Chapter Thirteen
"This land was one of beauty and great danger.
However, the people living there abused it,
then blamed it all on Elanora
when things went horribly wrong …"
—The Pasegean Scrolls
"Thankyou, Quadra. I shall return to Chail as soon as possible. I expect to return within a sevenday. Your information will help our cause immensely. Good day." With that, Chunia pulled the lever on her crystal, cutting the transmission to Alentio.
Goonads looked up from her writing. "My dear, what is the news from Alentio?"
Chunia smiled at her aunt. "Good, dear aunt. Remember the group I told you of—the ones who rescued the Princess and recaptured Syriana? Well, one of the ringleaders has been captured."
Goonads gasped. "You mean …?"
"Yes. We know their exact location. Apparently, a girl came forward. I cannot remember her name … something ‘Moore’, I believe."
"Very interesting, niece. What are you going to do with this hostage, now? Bargain?"
Chunia shook her head. "Never! Much, much too old-fashioned! Torture is a much preferable method these days. However, I have halted all actions against him until I return. He will be taken to Chail and placed in the dungeons there."
"He?" Goonads asked.
Chunia laughed. "I’m making assumptions, aunt. Of course, the only two from the actual ‘group’ I’ve seen were male, so it is more than likely. And," she continued, "Quadra informed me that the hostage was not the princess."
A scowl crept across Goonads’ scarred face. "Damn. I would have enjoyed to see that maid squeal! But, still, we will get our information—and our land. When do we leave?"
Chunia looked puzzled. "We? I will be travelling alone, aunt."
"Oh, I just thought … never mind." Goonads stood, signing her note with a flourish. She folded it, and walked to the doorway. "I’ll just go fetch some wax—Keori knows where Clyward is. Idle slave!"
Chunia waited a moment before creeping over to the table. She unfolded the parchment, and read it carefully.
Clyward,
You know your duties—keep an eye on my niece. I believe she knows the truth about her parents and their death. Follow her. She must not survive the next battle. If so, your life will be forfeit. Do not even think of double-crossing me, as I have friends in extremely low places—lower than yourself.
She suspects my hatred, and she shall know who signed her death warrant. I have hired an assassin, named Jenko. Meet her this afternoon near King Walston III statue in the town square. Fail to do so and that hour shall be your last.
Go now, and meet your fate, Clyward of Sonaro.
G.
Chunia refolded the letter, heart beating wildly. Sweat beaded on her brow, the realisation flooding through her body. She’s trying to kill me. Me, Queen Chunia of Chail! Anger coursed through her veins, and her blood boiled with hatred. She shall PAY for this! First she murders my parents, and now she’s trying to assassinate me! No one double-crosses a Chailan and gets away with it!
Footsteps clicked up the hallway as Chunia seated herself on the lounge, trembling with rage. Goonads entered, her pink from the physical ‘exertion’. Noticing Chunia’s condition, terror filled her mind. Could she … could she know of my plans? I have lost touch with her—her magic is too strong for me to read. She calmed her thoughts, and shifted a concerned façade into place. "My dear, you look positively sickly! Maybe you should get some rest, and postpone your journey for—"
"No!" Chunia’s eyes flashed angrily around the drawing room. Goonads saw them and imagined that their colour was that of blood—her blood. "I shall leave immediately. Send my bags along later. I’ll not waste a moment of my time on trivialities!"
Goonads’ heart was in her throat. She turned towards the window, nearly vomiting with the realisation. She read it. My letter. And, as a smirk replaced the previous face, And I’ll still have my way.
When she turned back to her niece, Chunia was gone.
Syrah wondered where everyone had gone.
She had rolled over and found no one. Dressing quickly, she rushed down the stairs. Empty. She searched through the other bedrooms, but could find none but Samandia, sitting by the window, growling at the rain. It hadn’t stopped raining since they’d arrived.
She looked for Alena, her friend … one whom she might confide in.
Of course! Jareth! Racing, hoping to find the one who always knew the location of either two dearest to her.
Vela was missing too. Her armour lay on her quilt, making strange patterns on the wall from the lantern on the ceiling. This room was dark.
As a last resort, she even tried for Catrin, hoping for at least a familiar face, if not a friendly one.
Where are they? Where’ve they gone? Why did they leave me all alone?! Lokath, my love … Alena, my confidant … Jareth, my friend … Vela, my prisoner … Catrin, my enemy … Why?
All she found was a note. It said: Which one is the closest? Which one is truly missing?
A man sat near a fountain, one morning.
His horse stood beside him.
He twined his fingers round its rein, as it nuzzled his hands.
He pushed his other hand underneath his seat; pushed parchment into a crack.
He stood; he mounted; he rode away.
A woman sat beside a fountain, one afternoon.
She came alone, sat alone.
She sat on all four seats in the courtyard.
She pulled parchment from the final seat.
She stood, and left alone.
Her story was only just beginning.
Copyright 2000 M. Lees
