Return of the Crown (6 page)

She peered into the mirror. Lareina floated
about in a grey fog, unable to see or hear. Trapped in time. Bryant
slipped in and out of view. “By the Darkness, I hate you, both of
you. You took everything from me. But, I’ve taken it back,” she
gloated, running a blood red nail along her sister’s angelic face.
“And, I’m prepared to take more, like your darling little brat.
Today is the anniversary of her birth. I’m going to find her, I’m
going to kill her, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.” She
chuckled deep in her throat.

She strode to her workroom, her sanctuary of
the Dark Arts. The dream continued nagging her, and she clutched
her skull in desperation. In the dead center of the chamber, she
traced out a spell in black sand. She cast her head back pleading
to the Darkness, “Show me how to find the girl. Her blood is to be
your sacrifice. Help me. I beseech you.” Emptying a vial of blood
into her scrying bowl, she searched the breadth of Aigerach for
traces of magic out of the ordinary. She shrieked coming up empty
handed. She slammed her arm against the bowl, sending it off the
table. It shattered on the hard stone floor. She stared at the dark
red pool, cocking her head as the blood oozed into a pattern
resembling a map.

She raced to the library, bare feet slapping
against the cold stones. Throwing the doors wide, she sprinted
across the threadbare carpet. As she cast about the shelves, she
noticed a vacant spot. Lareina’s book was missing. Bony arms
reached to the sky as she let out a triumphant laugh. Her eyes lit
with the fires of malice.

She pulled a dusty map tube from the shelves,
pulling out a map of the known world. She spread it before her,
chanting an incantation that grated across her tongue. Slowly an
inky black line flowed from Veris out across Aigerach. It spread
northwest across the sea, stopping in the ocean. She closed her
eyes, focusing on the black trail. In her mind’s eye, she followed
the ebony thread across the countryside, over the ocean, to a
little island. At the beach, she discovered a well-worn trail
leading up to a cozy little tree house. Peering through the window,
she saw the young woman from her cursed dreams. She spat onto the
map, thin lips curling in a feral grin.

Rowan finished working the balsa wood into
uniform logs, while Ravyn sat cross-legged in the sand weaving
vines into rope. Rowan secured a log to the center of the raft as a
mast. He then rummaged around in his storage shed, finally bringing
out some sturdy cloth to make a sail. Wiping the sweat from his
brow, he then sat in the shade with some shears, a needle, and
heavy thread.

Ravyn coiled the woven ropes, setting them
beside the raft that was taking shape. She picked up several
hollowed out gourds, heading to the spring to fill them with
sparkling cool water. With that task completed, she climbed up the
rope ladder to the tree house.

The air soon filled with the aroma of
biscuits baking, and she inhaled the warm scent with a smile. She
raided her larder, filling bags with dried meat and fish. She
packed more bags with nuts and roots and fruit.

Before the sun set on the third day after her
birthday, she was ready to set sail. The raft was loaded with
supplies, and the shushing of the sea beckoned her to go. Ravyn
turned away from the sea and put a trembling hand on Rowan’s
shoulder.

“Will you share one last meal with me before
I go? Now that the time has come, I’m afraid to go. I know nothing
about the world beyond this shore. Are there things I should avoid?
Will I be strong enough to confront my aunt? Will I find my
way?”

Rowan leaned back, brows furrowing, “I cannot
believe my ears. Have I not been teaching you all these years how
to care for yourself? Aye, there will be things new to your eyes,
but most of the plants growing on Aigerach are here on this island,
and you know them all. The critters, well, use your common sense
with that. You’ve learned to track and trap.” He folded his arms
across his chest, “I just can’t believe you’re worried. Your aunt
is the one who should be worried. I wish I could go with you.
This’ll be an adventure the bards will sing of for years to come,
the return of the crown.”

Ravyn smiled, tears glistening in the corners
of her eyes, “Thank you, Rowan; you know just what to say to a
silly girl.”

“Well, now that you’ve come to your senses,
let’s get a bite to eat. I’m half-starved. Just look at me wasting
away,” he patted his belly.

Rowan clambered up the ladder to the tree
house. Ravyn followed, eyes wide open as she tried to soak in every
detail, absorbing the view from the window. She studied Rowan’s
wizened face, imprinting his smile deep in her mind. She handed
Rowan a bowl of stew that had been simmering over the fire all
afternoon. The comforting scent of vegetables and meat wrapped
around her, soothing her nerves. She passed Rowan a buttery
scone.

They ate in silence, staring out the door to
the sea. The waves rolled in and out, taking time with them. Ravyn
swallowed her last sip of water, hesitating to put the cup
down.

Rowan stood, shaking scone crumbs off his
trousers. He looked down at Ravyn, then out to the sea. “The tide
is going out.”

Ravyn rose to her feet, setting her empty cup
on the windowsill. She walked to the door, never looking back. She
descended the ladder, the worn rungs smooth against her palms. As
they headed down the sandy path, she inhaled the sultry jungle
scents mixed with salty sea air. Tears threatened to spill down her
cheeks. “Princesses do not cry,” she whispered to the wind. The
roar of the waves snarled at her, and the waiting raft looked like
a floating prison cell. Shaky legs drew her onward.

Awkward silence hung in the humid tropical
air. Rowan kicked at the sand with his feet, then cleared his
throat, “I’ll shove your raft into the water. You pole out past the
reef, and then set the sail. Head southeast. Remember all I’ve
taught you, and you’ll be just fine.”

“Thank you, Rowan, thank you for everything.
When all this is over, I’ll return to see you. I promise.” She
leaned down giving him a fierce hug, kissing him on the cheek. It
felt inadequate for all the years of love and care he’d given
her.

Rowan returned the embrace, squeezing her
tight. “You’ve got everything? You’ve got enough water, food,
clothes? Ah, course you do.” He pulled back, looking fiercely into
her eyes, “You take back your future, Ravyn; take back the
crown.”

She couldn’t speak. Her mouth felt dry, and
all the fluid in her body seemed to be slipping unheeded from her
blue eyes. She squeezed his hand and then turning away from him,
she climbed aboard the sturdy raft. The raft seemed small compared
to the vast ocean before her, but at once she felt secure. The love
Rowan had put into the little craft emanated all about her. It no
longer felt like a jail; it was as if Rowan rocked her in his arms,
keeping the nightmares at bay as he had when she was little.

Grunting, Rowan leaned his weight into the
raft, shoving it across the sand. It splashed into the surf, the
spray dancing across her cheeks. Tossing her shoulders back, she
grabbed the pole, pushing away from safety and security into the
great fearful unknown.

When the raft crossed the rocky reef, she set
the pole down. She unfolded the sail, clipping it to the rope
swinging from the mast. The sail snapped taut, filling with the
light breeze as she tied the last knot off. She stared at the
island, the sun slinking below the horizon painting the skies in
glorious red hues. Rowan stood in the surf waving, his heart
flowing away from him as the wind swept her out to sea. The island
shrank to a speck then winked out disappearing from the
horizon.

Alone. She felt utterly alone. A little chill
ran across her skin causing the hair on her arms to stand wildly
erect. She hugged herself, sniffling.

She ran a sleeve across her eyes, dabbing at
the runaway tears. Her parents weren’t dead. Connor would teach her
to manipulate the Light. And, Blade was coming to help her. No, she
was not alone.

The bright pink sky faded to dusky purple.
Eventually all color dulled into a deepening blue. She relaxed as
the warm tropical air caressed her skin. She lay on her back, head
in her hands, marveling at the heavens above. Stars covered the sky
in a twinkling blanket. Her eyelids grew heavy, and she drifted off
to sleep.

High in a tower at the Castle of Veris, the
Empress Zelera watched the raft journey out to sea. Her fingers
drummed rhythmically against the sides of the scrying bowl, her
nails clicking against the bowl ever faster. Thoughts raced through
her wicked mind. What was the best way to kill her niece?

She released the bowl and turned to the long
dressing mirror. “Lareina, Bryant, how do you fare this evening?”
She cocked her head as if waiting for a reply.

“I’m so glad you asked,” she crooned to the
mirror, “I am ever so excited. I will take care of that brat Ravyn
soon. I’m still working out the details.”

She caressed the frame. “Why do I hate you?
Why do I hate you? You really have to ask that?” She stared in the
depths of the mirror where Lareina and Bryant floated oblivious to
anything or anyone. “There are so many reasons to hate you. Let’s
see, you stole the man I loved away from me.”

She traced a finger along the image of
Bryant’s cheek. “What’s that, I didn’t love him you say? Well,
that’s true, but I might’ve grown to love him. That’s really a moot
point. I should be the ruler, not you. Because you charmed that oaf
over to you, I lost my right to rule the throne.”

She glared at the blonde face hovering
beneath the glass, “And I lost my mother because of you. She died
giving birth to you. You took her from me. And father, he never
gave me the time of day after you came along. It was always about
sweet little Lareina. Well, not anymore sister. It’s about me, the
way it always should have been.”

“Well now, I’d better get back to work. I do
have to give you credit for your last spell, Lareina. I have been
looking for a weak spot all morning, and I can’t find one. You wove
a very tight protective spell. I may not be able to harm her
directly from this distance with my magic, but there’s more than
one way to skin a cat. I just have to figure out the best way.”

Zelera looked out the window. A soft cloud
glided across the moon’s face. “I could send a storm: waves
crashing, rain splattering, lightning arcing across the skies.” She
sneered at Lareina’s image, then her smile faltered. “You are of
course correct. Storm’s are fickle, and your brat might weather
through it. That elven raft looks sturdy. No, that’s not the way to
take care of this. However, that gives me an idea about the elves.
I could use a few elves around here. They have so many useful
talents; I’ll have to look into acquiring some.” Zelera’s eyes
drifted back to the window and the sea in the distance.

She smirked, chuckling softly to herself. She
crossed the room to her wardrobe. Grabbing her velvet cloak from
the cabinet, she tossed it around her shoulders. As she headed
toward the door, she stopped short, looking into the mirror once
more. “I’ll say goodbye to Ravyn for you,” she hissed.

She flung open her doors; the drowsy knights
standing guard clanked to attention. She glared at them as she
swept down the stairs, and her entourage of dark knights clattered
close behind. The servants of the castle scurried away like rats as
she strode through the hallways. The grand front doors slammed wide
open as she headed out the front of the castle.

The royal carriage sat waiting, painted ebony
with the emblem of a blood red rose encased in a crown of prickly
thorns. The coachman ushered her up the steps, closing the door
behind her. The horses began clipping along the cobbled courtyard
and out into the city. The streets were dark and silent as a tomb.
Only thieves, drunkards, and other unsavory characters lingered in
the streets after dusk. She could hear the knights rattling armor
as they trotted behind the coach. It wasn’t necessary for them to
wear full armor, but she did so enjoy the discomfort of others. The
coach halted at the harbor, the knights clanging to a stop.

The coachman held up a hand to help her
dismount the carriage steps; she looked down her nose at him.
Sauntering regally to the end of the pier, she threw her arms up,
chanting an archaic spell of summoning. A large dorsal fin broke
the surface, and a sinister shark circled beneath the pier.

She chanted arcane words while envisioning
row upon row of iron teeth, wickedly sharp. She swathed it in
darkness stretching its natural form. It lengthened to forty feet,
and its girth filled out proportionally. Its sides erupted with
razor sharp projections, and she tinted its eyes the crimson of
freshly spilled blood. She drove an image of Ravyn on the raft deep
into the creature’s brain. Zelera threw her dark head back, and
maniacal laughter echoed over the sea as she sent it on its deadly
mission.

Inhaling the salty sea air, she spun about
striding back to the coach. She flounced up the steps, sitting
primly on the cushions. Once the doors of the coach fastened
tightly and she was alone, she let exhaustion claim her. Heavy
eyelids drooped and she sagged into the cushions. Throbbing erupted
along her temples as the darkness demanded retribution for a job
well done.

A steady breeze pushed the raft onward
towards its destination many miles to the southeast. Ravyn slept
peacefully through the night, but before the sun peeked over the
horizon, a familiar dream surfaced. Ominous black clouds filled the
sky, Zelera’s mocking face loomed above, and her parents
disappeared from the deck of a splintering ship into the menacing
blackness. She woke chilled, the breeze cooling the sweat beaded
across her back and neck.