PART ELEVEN:
A royal un-invitation:
"Do not be so vile and cruel, my comrade. For you know not who sends her." Said the second palace guard to his working partner. That one had just minutes ago shoved the peasant woman away from the gates as she moved closer, pleading yet ungroveling. She had come a long way. Infact she had travelled for three days to get to the palace. Two of those days had been on various animals. As fellow sojourners allowed her on their beast-drawn wagons. The last lap of her journey found her on foot however. But the mission for which she embarked spurred her on with fortification. A mission that was now a 'do or die' affair. A predicament that had caused indescribable pain and pressure. A path that undeniably presented the promise of perishing for all concerned. "No, I have not done cruelly enough. How does she dare to venture out of nowhere, seeking face with his majesty? A mere peasant, a human scrappling as such." The first guard defended himself brusquely, as he eyed the woman with unveiled condescension. "You cannot go before the throne." He stated finally to the woman. "I have no word of an invitation for you."
The first guard made to say something, but changed his mind when he saw a third palace guard walking towards them. "It is true indeed, that I have no word from the king. How can I have word if he knew not what he needs to know." The woman started speaking, her voice unwavering. Displaying a stubbornness that can only be born in the crucible of suffering. "But this promise I give you, the king would want to know what...." "What is going on here? Have you found sport to intrigue your eyes?" Shouted the approaching guard, who was about two levels in rank higher that the two standing at the gate. "No sir, we only seek to rid the doors of this peasant nuisance." Replied the first and aggressive guard. "Is it nuisance because it is peasant? Or peasant because it was nuisance?" Asked the superior now standing directly in front of the first surbodinate guard. When there was no reply, because none could suffice. He then turned to the woman who was watching them with the utmost intensity.
"What seek ye woman? What dared you to venture un-invited to his majesty's throne. Have you no sense or fear?" This was coming from the superior guard. Who though shorter than his surbordinates, had an unequivocal air of authority. "I do have sense sir. Indeed that alone has led me here." The woman began to answer. "The fear I possess to seek the king is kinder that the fear of what would happen if this matter is still not known." The superior guard was quiet for a moment, as he appeared to consider what the woman had just said. There was silence, as the three pair of eyes trained on him. "Okay then." The superior guard now turned to face the woman. "What is the nature of this imminent ruination that you speak off." The woman sniffed, though her eyes looked dry and then began her story. "A long time ago, a grave lie was told. A fabrication so wicked and iniquitous, it wounded and eventually destroyed lives." The woman paused, lowered her head and then blew her nose into the edge of her shawl. As the three men looked on with rapt interest, she continued. "If it had just destroyed lives, then maybe a hope for repairing and rebuilding would have been born. But the destruction lives and thrives on even now. And in its wake, it leaves behind a plethora of agony and anguish that plagues the guilty."
"So you seek from the king, an absolvment of the guilty then I presume?" The superior guard asked with a serious tone. Yet his gaze was quizzical and searching. "No, not at all sir. For the guilty already perish." The woman answered. "I seek....we seek to unravel and expose an insidious lie. A sinister plot that changed history and probably perverted it." She finished with a contrasting look of sorrow and determined resolve. "Now this history that you speak of, does it involve his majesty the king?" The superior guard asked the severity and intensity of his question unmistakable. "For this reason I have come sir. Indeed it does." The peasants voice was lifted in hope with the last statement.
Legally owned; By blood, adoption or sacrifice:
"Did you forsee this turn of events?" The new monitor gently queried Heinus. "We do not see into the future stupid!" The head monitor was flushed with rage and a nagging reminder of incompetency at the question. A question that high-lighted a failed mission of his. But he succeded in hiding it from his curious and lower counterpart. "I know it seems that way most times," he felt the need to explain. "But we intently study patterns, behaviours and outcomes. If the formula or equation does not change, you are most definitely assured of the same outcome." He felt more in control after this statement. "Unless of course HE interrupts with an occassional 'override' and/or 'overrule'." Heinus sounded suddenly disgusted. "Why do you suppose HE would do that?" Continued the still cluless fellow. "Did you really just ask me that question?" Heinus had just lost the patience he never had. "You ask me about HIS affairs? You ask darkness, how does the light glow? Who invited you to this crypt by the way?" Heinus had had enough. "Well I am interning....." That one tried to explain. "Then do just that!!" Yelled Heinus. The cat had been killed.
Periodically, promising 'dark knights' were sent from the eternally blazing hole to the crypt. They learned and helped with monitoring and manipulative tactics. But only six of the permanent and ruling monitors could sit in on 'the session'. Xitus ambled over to the now irate Heinus. "It looks like your day is going just like mine," he said to the head monitor. Heinus nodded his agreement as he sidled closer to the huge mirror and its swirling images. "Why did he not destroy the weapon after he hit her?" Asked Heinus as they both looked at the blood stained mallet-like object surrounded by six talking and ruling heads. Xitus sighed his answer into audibility. "Every now and then, believe it or not. I have to lead him by the hand like a blind toddler. He knows what to do, but often ommits to do it. As if he were running from his destiny." The revulsion in the monitor's voice was undeniable. "Quite interesting," began Heinus. "Seeing that he has no persons to distract nor hinder him like these humans so often do. No wife, no children, no parents." Xitus heaved and shook his head disappointedly. "Children. I have a quiver full of some very useless ones."
"Can you believe the foolish intern asked me, if I had foreseen that the girl would escape unscathed. Howbeit with a bruised lip." It seemed the more Heinus thought about Reinah's escape, his blood boiled over. It was a touchy topic for him and he fumed that it was being revisited by a foolish and impressionable intern. "Truth be told, of which we won't be telling any. The plan seemed so easy and the girl quite gullible...." The head monitor was pensive as he spoke, never taking his eye off the mirror screen. "It was and she was. But you forget she is not ordinary nor is she alone." Xitus interjected. "Yes I know," agreed the head monitor. "So what now is the next plan?" Asked Xitus in high anticipation really wanting to know. "I do not know yet." Replied Heinus crumpling his entire scalp in an attempt to raise his brows. "The master himself metes out destructive plans for her. She is an insurmountable and futuristic threat and he is pulling no punches." His face was deeply serious as he spoke. "But I do know this, he definitely has more vicious and deceptive people lined up ahead for her unsuspecting soul." This he said with a maliciously laced smile.
"One more question though," piped up Xitus as his comrade got up and made to leave. "What is the next move with the self-absorbed priestess?" "Isn't that your call?" Heinus was surprised that he had asked. "What lying-promise or retractable-gift had you given her?" The head monitor inquired further. "You know the usual," Xitus shrugged feigning innocence and seriousness simultaneously. "That she would have and rule the world." This last statement precipated a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. The bellowing laughter that ensued from both creatures, filled the atmosphere with startling and unnerving tremors.
The Prelude. (A poignant page from the past):
Cows mooed in considerably low and tapered tones. Most of them were dying off, since their grazing fields had all but withered. It was amazing, natures ability to redefine itself when and if it pleased. A once luscious and green pasture, had now been reduced to scant and hues of brown. The onset of famine had spread fear and panic across the land. The reality of a subsequent war had killed any lingering expectations of survival. The sunkenness of the herbivores' faces now matched the deflated hopes of their keeper and owner. As he looked over the vast acre of his once fertile and productive plantation, he hung his head in painful silence. They would let this season clear out its terror and destruction, then they would start all over again. He and his fellow land owners had agreed on this much. They would not let devastation have the last laugh.
His wife watched him from the door of their large cottage. She had needed him to move a heavy basket for her and he was no where to be found. Then she remembered the one place he had now made his permanent mourning abode. Since the season of draught and then war, he had all but slept in the field with the cows. And she was getting tired of the moping and reminiscing. Infact she was getting tired of everything around this place. This no longer suited her dreams and expectations. Coming from generations of squalor, servitude and shame-mongers herself. She knew she wanted and had to have the rich land owner when she heard of him. Her very lacking and nameless history did not afford her the luxury of waiting on love's timing, selection and wings. Now here he was, wallowing in the vacancy of ruined crops. "How long must you stare at the fields, before you find another way to fix this mess?" She had walked up to her husband from behind, jostling him from a regret-filled reverie.
"What other way is there? We have to wait out the harsh winds, overturn the soil and then re-vegetate." He was tired of her complaining and depreciation. He had given her a life and honor she could never have dreamed of. She had floated in coyly with a set plan, before he had a chance to remember her name. Now she loathed all that he had become and let him know it whenever she had the chance. Her selfishness and unkindness towards him, made him realize it was never him as a person she had wanted. She never saw beyond what she wanted and what he had to offer her. "All that waiting, might take years and we do not have time for that," came her callous reply. "I have small children and I am not sure what to tell them." She finished sneering. "My children are fed and clothed, living under my own roof. Of what foolishness do you speak, if not your very own greed." The man looked at her as if at a stranger, as hurt danced in his eyes. "Well," continued the woman as if he never spoke. "I know someone who can help us out of this mess and quickly too....."
The sorcerer fidgeted with the red cloth and fought the urge to scratch his itching paint-circled eye, while eyeing the man. The landowner seemed somewhat yet understandably uncomfortable with his surrounding, and what he was hearing. His wife they already knew all too well. But it was her job to convince her husband not theirs. "I do not want to put my children in harms way, for any reason whatsoever." The man sounded dejected and tired. "You will not be putting them in harms way. You will only be using at least one of them as collateral. They will still live with you, be called yours. That is until the call of duty arises." The sorcerer's attempt at persuaion, fell flatly even in his own ears. So he looked to the landowner's wife for continuation. "It really is no big deal," she chimed in nonchalantly. "It will be over before we know it." Her smile made his heart sink. To think that the fear of never welcoming children had landed him with her. Now here she was, making the pawning of the children of no big a deal.
The boy shivered as the cold water rolled down his lean body. It did not help that the white loose trousers were now plastered to his lower body. He put his two arms on his chest, criss-crossing them as if to trap any warmth that there might be. He looked side ways towards his mother, as she merely mouthed words of consolation. Though her eyes glistened with tears, she did not move towards him nor demand the ordeal stop. He shuddered even further as the man with the black robe moved towards him. He was closely followed by a woman who also wore a black robe and had a huge cape covering her head and most of her face. They stepped forward with unwavering and determined purpose. As they got to him, they placed what looked like a wreath made out of dead and dried leaves on his head. He had been loosedly tied to a wooden pole the whole time and he made no effort to untie himself. He looked past the approaching duo to see his mother simply straining her neck to peer around them.