The Golden Dynasty (Fantasyland 2)

Then another warrior pushed into the clearing. My eyes went to him and I saw it was Feetak.

“I wish to speak, my king!” he shouted.

“You will be heard!” Lahn returned.

Feetak didn’t delay. “My new bride Narinda also shares a bond with our queen. She tells me she too wishes to assist our queen in resurrecting the wife of Dortak’s spirit.”

I felt Diandra’s hand curl tight into my shoulder indicating she was gravely surprised at these proceedings and I was too, especially considering Narinda didn’t have near enough command of the Korwahk language to inform Feetak of this but somehow she’d either managed it or he’d assumed it and for her, or simply because he was a good man, he stepped forward.

I held tight to my throne as I stared and tried to control my rapid breaths.

Another warrior pushed forward. “I wish to speak, my king!”

And another, “I wish to speak, my king!”

I shiver slid over my skin.

Oh my God!

Diandra’s fingers squeezed so hard, they caused pain.

And then came another, “I wish to speak, my king!”

And another, “I wish to speak, my king!”

Three more came in simultaneously from three different sides. “I wish to speak, my king!”

Dortak’s arms dropped, he took a step back and his head swung around to take in his brothers, his face now distorted with rage.

His bride didn’t twitch.

More warriors came forward and shouted the same words.

“Enough!” Lahn boomed, I looked to him and saw he had his hand up.

He did not look at me.

I turned back to the clearing to see it now nearly filled with warriors, Dortak and his bowing bride in white.

The air pressed in as I and the silent crowd held our breath.

Finally, Lahn spoke. “Bride of Dortak, give your king your eyes.”

She didn’t hesitate to push up to sitting on her calves and her eyes lifted to Lahn. She was wearing a wide strip of gauze around her br**sts and a thin one was wrapped around the cut on her throat. Her face had been cleaned but her left eye was nearly swollen shut, purple and bruising.

I swallowed again.

“The warriors of Suh Tunak speak for you,” Lahn told her.

She lifted her chin.

“Their wives speak for you,” Lahn went on.

She lifted her chin again.

“Is it your wish for my queen and her women to resurrect your spirit?” Lahn asked and I held onto my throne as Diandra’s fingers clenched into my shoulder.

He was giving her an out!

She shook her head.

No!

I tensed to shoot out of my chair but Diandra’s hand held me down.

“You understand that judgment has been passed?” Lahn asked.

She lifted her chin.

“And you accept that judgment,” Lahn stated.

She lifted her chin again.

No!

I felt my lips tremble as my body shuddered with the effort to stay seated and unmoving.

I wanted to reach out to Lahn. I wanted him to tell her that it was his decision that she must allow me and the wives of Suh Tunak to resurrect her spirit. I sent this thought into the night and hoped it found his mind.

It didn’t.

I knew it when he said quietly, “Very well, my sister.”

My head snapped to the side and I saw his head turned away and he was lifting his chin at something. My eyes flew there and I saw The Eunuch come forward with a long, thin blade.

Lahn turned back to the woman and I did too, seeing her sitting on her calves, apparently calm. I looked at Dortak to see him smiling.

God, God, God but I f**king hated that man.

My fingers tightened so deeply into the horns I feared they’d break through as The Eunuch positioned behind her, bent forward, cupped her, what appeared to be strangely tenderly, under her jaw and held the blade to her throat.

Then he lifted his eyes to his king.

“Do you have words, sister?” Lahn asked softly.

The woman in white stared at him. Then, slowly, her eyes slid to me.

Then a small, tragic smile drifted across her mouth and she said one word.

“Rainbow.”

And then so fast it was almost as if I didn’t see it, her hands shot up, she grasped the knife, tearing it away from The Eunuch who shouted in surprise. She took it by the hilt, pointed it to her belly, shoved it in and drew it up.

Blood spewed from the wound, loud gasps, cries and exclamations could be heard all around but I shot to standing, my arms straight down, my head tilted back and I shrieked to the heavens.

“No!”

At the exact same time I cried, lightning rent the sky, a crack of thunder filled the air, the heavens opened and rain poured down.

“End her misery!” Lahn shouted.

Somehow I knew he was now standing but I didn’t look. My head tipped down to see she had fallen forward.

The Eunuch didn’t delay, he dropped to his knees, his hands went to Dortak’s bride, he pulled her back across his thighs and he tore the blade from her belly. Her pained eyes captured mine and I held them as he swiftly drew the blade across her throat, blood surged out, wetting the stone and I watched, my eyes locked to hers for the terrible, brief seconds it took the life to drain from her eyes.

The rain came down in sheets, already washing her blood in a dark river across the light stone.

“No,” I whispered as the tears filled my eyes, the rain beat against my skin, my hair, my clothing, all of it soaked within seconds.

Dortak roared in triumph, my eyes went to him and he pounded a fist in his chest then punched it in the air, turned and pushed his way roughly through the crowd.

Then I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. Two men and four women. The men were carrying something and one of the women had a huge wad of white material in her hands. They made it to the fallen woman and the women arranged the material flat on the wet stone as the men lifted her with care and then set her at one end. They moved away as the women gently rolled her lifeless body, wrapping her tight in her wet, white gauze shroud; the blood still seeping from her wounds staining it red.

Once she was wrapped, the men came forward, lifted her onto a stretcher and swiftly all of them moved out of the clearing.

“Kah Lahnahsahna,” Lahn called.

Fogged like I was in a dream, my head slowly turned to him and I saw his paint dissolving down his body as the rain beat into him.

His arm was extended to me.

I stared at him.

“Go to your king,” Diandra whispered in my ear, her hands at my waist, pushing. “Now, my love.”

I moved to my king, he took my hand, pulled me close, bent our arms and held my hand tucked close to his chest, me to his side and we stepped off the platform, walked down the rise, through the gathered throng that was standing, silent and unmoving (except to let us through) in the driving rain.