Disclaimer: Diadem: Worlds of Magic does NOT belong to me. It belongs to Peel and his publishers, currently Llewellyn Worldwide. I highly respect his work and am making no profit from this, nor do I intend for this piece of fan fiction to interfere with his profits.
Author's Note: Takes place sometime after Book of Nightmares and before Book of War
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Diadem: Book of Thoughts
CHAPTER 10: “Prodigal Daughter”
by Luna
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Helaine was roughly led to the castle, her hands bound and her belongings apprehended. She was without sword or dagger. They had even removed her pouch of jewels! Although she could probably work some magic on this world without them, it would be nothing that could enable her to escape.
At the castle gates, Helaine’s eyes filled with tears. The moat was tinged red with the blood of battle. Catapults had bombarded the outer defense walls leaving rubble and stone. Her father’s once proud banner was gone, and in its place flew the insignia of the Border Lords.
The further inside she was led, the heavier her heart sank. In the courtyard was a burial pyre of bodies pilled on each other haphazardly. They were her father’s men, slain in battle. The Border Lords soldiers were still pilling the dead as she was pushed forward. To her horror she recognized one of the newly pilled bodies.
It was Borigen. More than just her fighting instructor, he was the only true friend she had on this world. He had kept her male disguise a secret all the years she lived in the castle and taught her the skills of battle. He had been the warm father figure she always found lacking in her biological one. His death hit her hard and she found herself on her knees, shaking. To her disgust and pain she noticed that she was leaving a trail of blood from her wound. Untreated, she stood a likely chance of bleeding to death.
“Up on your feet, wench!”, yelled one of Ilreid’s men, yanking her up when she refused to move.
Her captors led her to her father’s old throne room. His banners and tapestries had been torn down. The hall was full of the stench of death, no longer the lively place of feasts and talks she once knew.
Sitting in her father’s old throne was a tall, heavy set man in his late forties. His dark beard was striped on either side of his cheek with grey.
Helaine was pushed to her knees as the rest of the men bowed in respect.
“What do you bring me, Ilreid?”
Ilreid stood and told his lord how Helaine had suspiciously appeared outside the castle grounds wearing the Votrin ring, and how upon questioning had fought, killing two of his men and seriously injuring five others.
“She refuses to tell us anything, my Lord Cuthar. I am most perplexed.”
“What have we here? A woman who fights like a man?” Cuthar rose from his throne, rubbing his chin in thought. He approached Helaine, moving around her like a predatory cat circling its targeted prey.
Helaine held her head high, but refused to look the man in the face. “Such a pretty face for a warrior,” Cuthar said as he grabbed Helaine’s face and forced her to look at him. Outraged, Helaine spat directly in his eye.
The hall went deathly silent. Cuthar turned to his vassals, wiping away the spittle with his left hand. His voice filled with overconfidence and triumph.
“Ha! This is no ordinary wench, but the legendary Lady Helaine Votrin, come home at last!” Cuthar’s eyes gleamed sinisterly as he addressed his people. “She is the noble-born who flaunted the laws of society, who disguised herself as a boy under Votrin’s own nose, then bested his top warriors in fair combat!”
At Helaine’s surprised look of shock he continued, “Don’t look so shocked, my lady”. Cuthar spoke her rightful title as if it were an insult. “You didn’t think your blasphemy could remain secret for long? I had sent out some of my best men to kidnap you and prevent the alliance your father had in plan. Instead, you defeated my men in combat and fled, leaving poor old Votrin to believe we had murdered you.” He smiled menacingly. “Without you, Votrin would have accomplished his alliances for peace. I am in your debt; this war and my resultant victory couldn’t be without you.”
Helaine was in shock. She never imagined that she could wreck such harm. She had started dressing as a male around the castle as a game, nothing more. Her warrior training under Borigen was a result she hadn’t planned on, though it came to be her greatest passion. All she had ever wanted was to be treated as an equal and seen as something of worth by her father, a right she was denied in her feudal patriarchal society.
“Anything to add, my lady?”
“Where is my lord father, you pig!” was the only response she gave.
Cuthar smiled a vicious canine grin. He summoned a servant to him and whispered some instructions Helaine couldn’t hear. The servant returned, looking rather pale and carrying a blood soaked satchel.
Cuthar took the bag from the boy, his smile never wavering.
“Meet your father, Lord Votrin!” Out of the sack Cuthar pulled forth a severed head. Its dark beard was smeared with blood and the dead eyes stared darkly, as if piercing into her very soul. A single involuntary tear trickled down her right cheek.
“I must say, Morphos really out did himself with this illusion.”
Abruptly Oracle stood before Helaine, blocking her view from the grotesque sight.
“What did you say?” croaked Helaine, wondering if she had truly gone mad, while at the same time too afraid to believe Oracle’s words.
“Can an illusion cause pain, sir?” Demanded Cuthar. “The lass you speak to bleeds from wounds in battle, battle in which two of my men were slain!”
Helaine winced, reminded of the physical pain of her injury. It all seemed so real, how could it be nothing more than a mind trick?
Oracle ignored him, speaking to Helaine as if no one else in the room existed.
“Contact Pixel, Helaine. He will confirm it.”
“I can’t. My pouch --”
Oracle shock his head. “Just contact Pixel. The pouch is still on your person. Morphos is only making you believe that you don’t have it.”
Helaine closed her eyes, trying to forget the world around her. Oracle’s advice had always been true before. She imagined that her agate was still in her pocket and focused her power through it.
*Helaine?* asked Pixel’s clear voice in her head.
*Pixel! Is Oracle right, is this all an illusion?*
*Yes. Now contact Score, we need to break out of this trap!*
Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 |
