Picture prompts are some of my favorite. Like I mentioned way back when, I like picture prompts because two people can look at the same picture and see very different things.
I can't wait to see what everyone else comes up with! :-)
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My response:
It took all the self control I had not to glance back as I turned the corner, leaving the party behind and stepping onto the dark walkway that surrounded the estate. It was imperative that no one follow me. Hopefully, no one noticed my leaving, but if they did and they saw me glancing back, it would look suspicious. At least, that's what Lemak had told me, and he was the expert.
The moss grew thick on the gray stones, dulling the sound of my footsteps and wetting my thin slippers. The moist air was almost heavy on my shoulders. I paused a few steps in and studied a colorful bunch of flowers hanging down from the ceiling.
I waited, counting slowly in my mind. I'd never mastered counting precisely with the clock, so I counted six measures, instead of the five Lemak insisted on. Better wait too long than too little. A bee darted through the air and disappeared into a lily. The harp and the murmuring of polite conversation continued behind me. I was still alone.
It wasn't easy to get a good grip on my silk skirt with my gloves on, but I hiked it up the best I could and hurried down the walkway. As the pathway curved, I spied the figure waiting in the shadows. I slowed my pace. A bead of sweat ran down my back. My bones tingled with anticipation. I had dreamed of this as long as I could remember, but until Lemak, I never really thought it possible.
I gauged my steps and stopped in a patch of darkness, three arms lengths from the figure. He was dressed in linen trousers, a white shirt, and a vest. His leather boots were as silent as my slippers on the rocks as he stepped forward.
"You know who I am?" I asked.
He nodded.
"You know what I'm asking you to do?"
"Paying me to do," he corrected, his voice low.
"Yes." I pursed my lips. I didn't like when servants spoke back. "Paying. But to be sure there are no misunderstandings, I want you to tell me what you're going to do."
"I'm to take the morning catch to the kitchens tomorrow, like as I always do, and when the cook's back is turned, I take the keys off the hook. Then I use those to come back tomorrow night, slip up to her Majesty's room, and ..." Apparently even murderers struggle with their conscience at times. He slid his finger across his throat.
That wasn't enough. If he couldn't say it, how could I trust him to do it? "And what?"
"I kill her."
"Whom?"
He sighed. "The Princess, Evelyn Marie Antoinette."
"And if you get caught?"
He stepped into the light, leveling a vicious gaze at me. "I do not get caught."
I raised my chin. "If you get caught, and you allow yourself to be taken alive, you will not live long enough to give my name to anyone. I've made arrangements to be sure of that."
"I don't doubt you have, my lady." His eyes glinted in the darkness, and I could see I'd earned a measure of respect. Then he continued. "But see, miss, you made one mistake." He stepped forward.
My heart leaped in my chest. What did he know that I didn't?! My brain raced as I tried to keep my composure. Likely he didn't know anything; he was just trying to scare me.
He cocked his head, looking over my shoulder. My blood ran cold, and I repressed a shiver. What kind of trick was he trying to play? He'd come close enough now that if I turned to glance over my shoulder, he could close the gap between us before I could stop him. I didn't want to fall for his feint ... but what if there really was something there.
I didn't have to wonder long.
A voice came from behind me, so close that I felt his hot breath on my neck. "Your mistake was in believing that your father hired me to protect you. He knew it was Evelyn who needed protecting."
Lemak. Lemak who had carried me home when I'd fallen off my horse, who had brought me wildflowers from the mountain fields, and who had dreamed with me of the day I'd be Queen, when my sister was gone.
I could feel the press of his blade through the thin fabric of my dress. With his free hand he reached up and snatched my satchel from my wrist, tossing it to the outlaw. "You are free to go. Now." The man touched his forehead in farewell, then turned and trotted away.
Lemak wrapped his left arm around my waist and pulled me closer. I felt the bodice of my dress loosen as the knife cut through it. My skin was next. I had to think quickly. Even if he'd been planning on betraying me, Lemak had taught me alot in the past months. I had an advantage; I just had to figure out what it was.
Then it came to me. Carefully, I worked my fingers at the fabric of my skirt, pulling it higher. The silk rustled, so I spoke to buy some time and cover. "And what makes you think I didn't know about the whole scheme in the first place? That maybe I was going along with it so I could be there to protect her, when I thought you were going to kill her with or without my help?"
It was a flimsy excuse. I knew it. But if I could make him pause, just for a moment ...
"I was afraid of you. I didn't dare tell you no." I couldn't tell him I'd gone to my father. If they'd been working together, he'd know I was lying. I had to think fast.
Now the silk slipped above the knife on my left thy. I felt the handle, warm with my bodyheat. I was better with my right, but I didn't have time, and thanks to the little trick I'd come up with myself, I didn't have to worry about accuracy.
"I told Uncle Viz. I told him everything. He was going to help me stop you."
I knew immediately Lemak believed me. He relaxed his grip, grabbed my shoulder, and whipped me around to face him.
I didn't even have to strike. I felt the resistance in my left hand as the knife caught on his leg, slitting the fabric of his pants.
His dark eyes flashed with anger. He caught my wrist in his hand. My bones grated together, and I cried out, dropping my knife. It thudded softly against the moss.
"Did you really think ..." He stopped, blinked twice, and swayed on his feet. His eyes found mine, and I could see the realization dawn in them. "You didn't ... you ... thought ..."
His body dropped to the ground, spasmed once, then lay still.
I bent and retrieved my knife, returning it back to the sheath. Lemak had laughed when I suggested I coat my blade in poison. He teased me for having a wild imagination. I sighed and allowed myself one last glance at his fallen body. We could have been so good together.
But at least he'd shown me that my dreams weren't so far fetched. I hurried back the way I'd come, leaning against the stone wall and letting the branches catch the fine fabric of my dress, tearing it further. I'd cause quit the stir when I got back to the party.
The paved walkway beneath her feet was broken in places and caused her to stumble, but she didn’t slow her pace. Asyndra clutched the small bundle in her fist and peered ahead through the cluster of leaning stone houses. Light from the full moon barely penetrated the gloom of the Dead City, sheltered as it was by the tall, crumbling wall and vines that swung from ancient trees, but it was no matter. She knew the way. The one who still held her heart was here, sleeping in a secret grave no one knew of but she.
ReplyDeleteLife stirred inside her, and Asyndra paused for a moment, caressing her swollen belly. “Sleep, little one,” she whispered. “He shall return to us. He told me how.”
The rotting wood of the covered bridge swayed and creaked in protest as she crossed. A current of air rustled the leaves of the flowering vines as she passed, and the honeyed scent floated around her. Asyndra could have sworn she heard voices whispering, pleading: Go back. Go back, before it is too late.
She paid them no mind. And in a moment the monument of the Weeping Sentinel stood before her. He was here, her beloved, shut inside a house for the dead meant for the family of his enemies. This was where she had paid the men to carry him in secret. Kneeling in the dirt before the tall marble doors, Asyndra placed her bundle onto the ground while silent tears poured down her cheeks. She saw it all once more in her heart: the battle from which so few had returned, the men who carried him to her, so covered in blood she barely recognized him. Only he knew the secret incantation that would allow him to return; and he had whispered the words to her while she sobbed in anguish as she watched the spark in his eyes grow dim until it finally faded to nothing.
I promised I would come for you. She spoke the words in her mind. It has cost me much, my love, but I have done it all for you. Come back to me.
Opening the bundle, she scattered its contents to the wind. Bone dust and pollen, elements of life, along with strands of her beloved’s hair. And blood. Dried drops on bits of linen, crimson remnants of the men who had carried her love to his resting place. They had not known that they could not be allowed to live. It had pained Asyndra to cause their deaths, but to return one to this world from the Underworld, sacrifice must be made. The Gods had so decreed.
Her duty done, she spoke the words aloud, her voice rising to sail away on currents of air that arose with a sudden summer storm. Leaves and fragrant blossoms whirled about her.
ReplyDeleteGreat God of the Underworld, hear me.
I have made you an offering.
I have given you many servants, in the place of one.
You are bound by my sacrifice.
Return my beloved to me.
A loud crack resounded and the earth shook around her. Asyndra fell to her knees. The doors of the monument crept open. A form took shape, seeming to solidify from the darkness inside the tomb until it somehow became an even thicker darkness, blacker than the ocean at midnight, colder than the longest night of winter.
“You have done well,” a deep voice intoned. It was a voice of the grave, the sound of angry water rushing over stones, harsh and cold.
Asyndra stood and took a faltering step back. “But…who are you?” she asked, trembling from head to toe. This was not her beloved.
“I have accepted your offering, but I will not return your husband to you. I have chosen to come in his stead. I am your new Beloved.”
The figure stepped away from the doors of the tomb, and a shaft of moonlight fell upon his features. It was the face of her dead husband, yet it was not. Instead of the steady gleam of mirth that used to glow from eyes the color of burnt caramel, this being’s eyes were black, cold and dull. The being smiled; but to Asyndra it was a grimace, a cruel caricature of what used to be the face of her love. She couldn’t suppress a small whimper of fear as she took another step back and held her hands over her stomach in a protective gesture.
“Do I not please you? I can take another form if you choose.”
Asyndra! Run! She heard his voice. His true voice; that of her beloved. Asyndra whirled and fled, tearing through vines and tangling brambles, catching her skin and clothing on sharp thorns.
The cold voice followed her, echoing all about her, seeming the fill the still night.
It is too late. You cannot escape me. I will find you, my dear, and together we will rule the Underworld. Your son shall be mine, and he shall inherit the deepest regions of @#!*% .
“No!” she cried as she fled. Horror filled her mind even as rage filled her heart. She had been tricked. The Gods were supposed to hold to their bargains; but this one had not. A tiny hope flared and spurred her onward. She moved as fast as her swollen belly would allow toward the hidden doorway in the outer wall. Dawn approached, and even the God of the Underworld could not hold power when the rays of the Sun Goddess spilled across the land. If she managed the proper incantation, she would have a reprieve, at least until darkness fell once more.
Gasping for breath, she nearly missed it. There! With bursting lungs and legs on fire, Asyndra reached the doorway and plunged through, seizing a handful of the blood red blossoms of the Rosewick that grew from the rotting wood trellis surrounding the opening. Scattering them behind her, she breathed out the word: “Sanctuario Solaris!”
A flare of crimson light illuminated the small doorway at the very moment a dark figure reached it. It reared back and screamed, then seemed to shrink, losing some of its imposing height. Soon, a being that had the appearance of a large wolf howled and turned away, scuttling back into the darkness of the Dead City. A single trill of a nightingale sounded from somewhere overhead, and the first rays of the sun began to spill light over the world. Asyndra stood, trembling all over from fatigue and fear. She was safe, for the moment.
This is not over. The Sun Goddes can only protect you while her star spills light over your land. When the realm of night returns, so shall I.
“And I shall be ready,” Asyndra whispered, feeling the truth of the words as she spoke them. She had been betrayed. If there was a way to fight a God, she would find it.
Oh my goodness! I used the "h, e, double toothpicks" word in the story where the God of the Underworld talks about his realm, and it was automatically changed to: @#!*%. :-) As long as no one thinks it was a different word...
ReplyDeleteI can't believe it auto corrected! I guess my little spiel in the rules about keeping it clean was unnecessary - Blogger does it for us!
ReplyDelete