Chapter
35
Brythia cried the entire way back to
their horses. The briars tore at her in
the darkness as she crawled over the cold ground. She paid them no attention. Occasionally, behind her, she heard curses
from Delorick or Pagyrus, but they barely registered on her consciousness. Her hopes were crushed. There was no way to get to her beloved. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else would ever matter. Despondency and despair began to strangle out
all other emotions in her soul. Her love
lost forever. Tolian, she sobbed,
Tolian.
Kiliordes was surprised how well he
was progressing through the thorny underbrush with no light to guide him. It was clear that this time in the wilds was
bringing the skills he had learned as Kilfrie to the forefront of his
mind. Mostly, though, he worried about
poor Brythia, and, of course, Tolian.
What a crushing blow it must have been for the druidess to hear that her
wife was beyond her reach. What could he
possibly say to console her? She could
never be consoled. There would always be
a gigantic hole in her heart. The love
magick would eventually cause her to waste away and to pine for Tolian
throughout all eternity. He felt a pang
of sorrow at the knowledge of the sad fate that would befall her. How long would it take before the druidess
took her own life? Kiliordes was
determined to prevent that from happening at all costs.
He was glad enough when the narrow,
overgrown trail from the Blue Hole gave way to the wider, sandy pathway marking
their entrance point. He heard the neigh
of a horse and rose to his feet. A short
distance more and they had arrived at their waiting steeds.
A torch was lit behind him and
illuminated the scene. Kiliordes turned to
see Delorick carrying the flame. He
looked at Brythia. Gods, how miserable
she looked. He rushed to her side and
put an arm around her. She pressed
herself against him and sobbed quietly.
He squeezed her shoulders supportively.
“She’s lost to me, forever,
Kiliordes,” she whispered. “She’s
lost. Oh, my Tolian, lost.”
“There, there, dear,” he said
reassuringly. “Maybe you could join
Pagyrus and me with the Solar Pilgrimage Festival. Help you get your mind off things.”
He was almost surprised to hear
himself suggest it, but it was a good idea.
It would be good for her to be around the joyous pilgrims in their near
constant merry-making. She said nothing,
but buried her head in his chest and gripped him tightly. She was a strong girl, he realized.
The others stood around forlornly,
uncertain what to do next. No one knew
what to say. They milled around in
sympathy and discomfort.
Findelbres broke the silence.
“Horses approach. We’ve been followed,” he cried out.
Then chaos erupted. Before Kiliordes could figure out what was
going on, Delorick had drawn a sword and directed its point against Brythia’s
back.
“Drop your swords, all of you,”
commanded Delorick, Captain of the Royal Guard.
“In the name of the King of Lorm, I place you under arrest.”
Kiliordes turned himself and the
druidess in his arms, so that Delorick’s blade was directed into his flank, not
her back.
“This is preposterous,” he
exclaimed.
Brythia’s tear-streaked face wore a
look of shock.
“Delorick,” demanded Findelbres,
“What manner of joke is this?”
Pagyrus said nothing, but slowly and
quickly maneuvered himself closer.
“Hold there, Pilgrim,” cautioned the
Lormian. “I don’t want to hurt you, but
I’m not afraid to if I must. None of you
are a match for my sword.”
“Do not do this, Delorick,” warned
Findelbres. “This will not turn out well
for you.”
“Brave words, my friend,” retorted
Delorick, “but I do not fear you. Let
her go, Kiliordes. I have no quarrel
with you.”
The sound of many hooves pounding
over sandy trails, though somewhat muffled, was growing louder in Kiliordes’
ears. He held Brythia even more tightly.
“Delorick, please,” Kiliordes
implored him. “Stop this madness and we
can still be away.”
Brythia suddenly broke free from
Kiliordes’ grip.
“How dare you,” she yelled at
Delorick, walking right up to the point of his sword. “You, who were Tolian’s best friend. She would have done anything for you. You traitorous swine. You can kill me if you like. Why not?
You betrayed Tolian and now me.
You’ve already destroyed my reason to live; you might as well end my
suffering now. But first, tell me why
you ruined our lives and betrayed your rightful liege. What exactly did Kelvris promise you? Tell me that much before you kill me.”
“This is all your fault, witch. All of it,” answered Delorick. “If you hadn’t ensnared Tolian’s heart and
reduced him to that mockery of existence—as a mere female. How can Lorm have a Woman-King? How can the bravest warriors of the entire
world be ruled by a woman’s whim? A
woman who is merely a puppet of you druids.
Do you think we Lormians are that stupid? We are not.”
“Oh, no, not stupid. Ignorant, backstabbing, chauvinistic
traitors. But not stupid,” she snapped.
Kiliordes could not but marvel at
her bravery.
“So, that’s it?” she asked with
venom. “You betrayed your best friend,
who has saved your life innumerable times, I might add, your princess, your
King, your honor, for nothing but ridiculous rhetoric. You are a fool then. Kelvris’ lap dog, no more.”
She spat in his face. He scowled and wiped the spit off his cheek.
“Before you die, you will know what
I was promised. I was promised a Lorm
returned to its glory, and a bride, untarnished—Myrthis.”
“But you already won the right as
Jarrels’ Champion,” protested Kiliordes in astonishment.
“I will not be wed into
disgrace. My wife will not be the
concubine of a woman’s child. What sort
of marriage would that truly be? Kelvris
has promised me that once Tolian is removed, he will deal with the infant. Myrthis will be all mine. And with the might of Dowbreth’s Faerie army
at our side, none shall stand against the power of Lorm.”
Brythia shook her head in disgust.
Kiliordes could hear the voices of
the approaching Lormians. There was
little time. No doubt, they could see
Delorick’s torch and had hastened their approach. He had to do something. He was certainly not going to sit back and
watch Brythia be killed. But the raging
hate that burned in the warrior’s eyes showed there were only seconds left to
act. Acting without thinking, Kiliordes
leaped forward, shoved Brythia roughly to the ground, and made a desperate grab
for Delorick’s sword arm. The warrior
easily blocked his attack and hit Kiliordes in the head with the bottom of the
torch. He pulled his sword back to
strike at him. Kiliordes watched
helplessly as Delorick’s blade came down toward his head.
Pagryus screamed, “No.” The pilgrim
rushed over and stabbed his long dagger into Delorick’s back. The warrior turned and stabbed the pilgrim
through the heart. Both collapsed to the
ground.
Then the Lormians were upon them.
“No one move,” shouted Kelvris as
his troop of horsemen surrounded them.
Copyright 2004, 2015 Diana Hignutt
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