Warrior

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Eire

7653 B.C.

“My Queen, tis the only way,” the high advisor said, stepping forward in a pleading gesture.

The young queen held her hand up and the large room where she and eight others were gathered fell deathly silent. Her expression was a pained one, her eyes old and tired, lines marring her normally beautifully smooth face, two tracks of tears running down each cheek.

Aislinn gulped, then spoke softly, but with the conviction of one who had suffered much. “I will not leave my people, and after so great a defeat.”

“But, my lady—I cannot believe that you fully grasp the gravity of this situation and yet you would persist in—”

One of the tall, powerful warriors who stood in the back of the hall stepped forward, and his mere movement was enough to silence the man speaking.

“My queen has spoken; you will speak no more of these magics, you ken?”

“What know you of this affair?” the advisor sneered. “You’re but a warrior, trained to do simple things—” The man stopped when he realized there was a blade pressed to his skin, that the young warrior had moved so swiftly that none had really seen him, to hold the cold metal where it was.

“I know the burdens Queen Aislinn bears. You will bother her no more. You ken?” he asked again.

The advisor held up both hands in surrender, and the warrior slowly let the blade fall, making no mistake in his message that the advisor lived only because he willed it.

“Teirgan, what say you?” the queen asked.

The warrior took a slight step away from the advisor and spoke in a calm voice that echoed its deep tones off the stone walls. “I do not like this thing they beg of you, my lady. It reeks of black magics best left alone.”

The huge ornate doors at the far end were suddenly thrown open by four guardsmen, and in rushed three pages, all supporting a bloody messenger. Aislinn’s stomach churned as the sight of the blood burned into her eyes and the smell assailed her nostrils.

“My Queen…” the messenger choked. The pain he was obviously in beaconed to her, begging her for comfort, but the blood kept her on her throne, silent. “The outer wall…has fallen… No time…you must—” He started choking on his own blood. When a huge ball of blood issued from his mouth into a sickening mess on the floor, Aislinn covered her mouth to cover her gasp.

The messenger died, right there in the pages’ arms.

Around her, a flurry of activity exploded. One of the advisors called for reinforcements and aid to go to those near the outer wall, an order was given to begin bringing people within the deep keep, but she could hear none of it.

Her eyes were focused on the dead messenger, left alone on the floor in a slumped, painful looking position. Tears glistened anew and trailed down her face.

“This is the first time you’ve seen death?” the quite voice that asked the question was close to her ear. She turned slightly. Teirgan wrapped a supportive arm around her shoulder and she turned into the shelter he offered.

“It is,” she barely managed to mumble the words.

“My Queen, you must leave now, they’ve nearly arrived. My Queen!” One of the advisors called frantically at her, but she could not stir herself.

“This sleep…this death they speak of,” she said, lifting her head slightly to gaze into Teirgan’s eyes. “If I agree, would you go with me?”

His look was solemn and tender at the same time as he wiped tears away with his thumbs. “My love, I would follow you anywhere you called me.”

“My Queen, the time is now—come quickly!”

There was a huge boom and crack noise, like one of the great old timbres that held up her castle had been shattered. The entire place shook, stirring dust and breaking apart brick and sand.

“It’s quite a desperate situation,” she said, unnecessarily.

He said nothing, but instead kissed her. For a mere second she thought herself lost, but then another blast similar to the first and the screams around her shook her out of his embrace.

Her head advisor stood close by, waiting with a pained and hurried look about him.

She stood. “Work your magics, my lord, but know my warrior goes with me.”

He nodded and quickly led them away, fleeing through the hall amid more blasts and suffocating dust and debris until they were outside in the stables, mounting up on horses and riding away from her country’s capital as it was razed.

Copyrighted © 2008 Arden Ashart