1.5
“And so, with family heirloom in hand, he struck down the mighty stag and became king of the vast green land.” – ‘Ode to King Brenson’
Royal Villa (Terramere)
Orlo Brenson felt the steam rising from the woman’s eyes, and with a flash of his hand the spinning fan above the room turned faster. Terramere was incredibly hot this time of year – the Landing and its surrounding countryside was even hotter.
He had learned why once … something to do with the weakening of the atmosphere above the great space port. Most of what he had learned in the Colony had been buried within a superfluous hole in his mind that had long since been filled in. He had been the King for almost forty years; he knew all that he had need to know.
The woman kneeling before him continued to mock him with her fiery green eyes. Stealing and burning someone’s crops if he remembered right. Casually, he glanced towards Magenta who shook her head in disgust. His wife knew all too well when he had lost interest in the courtroom. He had even moved his seat to his spacious villa just outside the Landing to help focus; yet, he was often distracted.
“The usual punishment for your crimes is penance to the man you owe,” Brenson began rather flatly. He waited for his scribe and the other members of his court to regain composure – apparently, he had been deliberating for quite some time.
Some of the nobles would cite his use of admintive, but he hadn’t even begun to drink for the day. It was early still. News could come at any time that his men had captured the white stag. It would be unwise to journey to the Kingswood under the influence of the drug.
“But I honestly don’t like the look in your eye,” the King continued. “It’s the look of hunger, the look of more to come. Am I mistaken?”
The woman frowned, and her eyes narrowed further. “I have done nothing wrong.”
Brenson shrugged and withheld a sigh. Sometimes he wondered why he even tried to help the commoners. “That, my dear, was a chance to assure me that you were only a well abiding citizen who had come upon hard times. That this crime against Terramere was certainly the last you would ever commit.”
He paused and looked at the untouched drink next to him. Why wouldn’t she stop looking at him like he had just slaughtered her family? More importantly, why did it unnerve him? She was just a stupid farm girl.
“That was another, my dear.” This time, he did sigh. “Tell me what is your name? Who is responsible for your actions?”
He realized the woman wasn’t blinking in her apparent rage. “Kathryn Edgewood.” She grunted as a guard’s spear connected with her gut. “… my King.”
Of course she would be an Edgewood. Undoubtedly, she was related to the men who had tried to trade with the savages. Those eyes didn’t warrant an apology. Perhaps it was time to make an example to discourage any further Edgewood mischief.
“And you will not defend yourself any further Miss Edgewood?”
The woman continued to glare at him. She said nothing.
Brenson frowned but waved off another blow from his guard. This woman had picked the wrong day to be disrespectful to her King. He stood slowly from his Kingstree carved throne and met the woman’s heated stare.
“For your crimes against the planet Terramere…” And your rotten attitude. “I sentence you to life at the Rim Station.”
The woman’s face turned ghostly white, the fire suddenly absent from her eyes.
Brenson withheld his smile, but he wondered why he was satisfied. She was only a common farm girl. She meant nothing. “Take her away.”
The King watched as his men dragged the limp girl from his sight. With a snap of his fingers, a burly man appeared beside him with a vile of light green powder. Brenson held up his goblet of red wine and allowed the man to mix in the admintive.
As he sipped, the world slowed.
The seconds began to tick more leisurely – and far more pleasantly. It was as if he had all the time in the universe. The powdered drug always brought on the feeling that he had miraculously evaded all duties and responsibilities. The appearance of the white stag became the furthest thing from his mind. His worry over a potential new king was beyond even that. Taking a deep breath, he finished the drink.
“Yes?” he asked as his auburn-haired wife approached the regal wooden throne. The admintive seemed to bring out her full lips and breasts. It made her appear thinner and somehow younger. She was the most beautiful woman he had found upon his return from the Colony. The admintive nearly returned her to that perfect state.
“You sent her to the Rim?” Magenta said with a sweet tone. “An Edgewood?”
Brenson laughed at her sarcastic words. “What are they going to do about it?”
His wife only smiled.
“Besides … I gave her the change to apologize and she refused.”
The woman took his hand and pulled him out of the carved throne. “She does not deserve such a fate, my love. No one does. She was too young.”
The King shrugged. “I’ve sentenced younger to death.”
Leaning close, she whispered a string of words seductively into his ear. The woman had been slow to understand how to take advantage of the admintive, but, once it had started, she had learned quickly. Lately, Brenson had found more and more that she had gotten her way. That she won every argument.
Were he not on admintive the fact may have unnerved him.
Perhaps I do have a problem, he nearly realized. But how could he have any problems with the drug inside of him? It refused the very notion of such treacherous thoughts.
“I decide what people deserve,” he growled defiantly. “I am the King.” He allowed her to lead him through a set of beautiful doors and into their private chambers.
“The King?” Magenta smirked devilishly. “That must be why you make so…” She kissed him ferociously and threw him onto the plush, oversized bed. With a smooth flash of her hands she became completely undressed.
Brenson couldn’t help but grin like a boy. She certainly wanted something and had just been waiting for the chance. Why does she even care about the Edgewoods anyway? he suddenly wondered. And why haven’t I had a report on the progress of the hunt! Those idiots have already had a week to catch it…
The admintive allowed him to put those thoughts to rest easily. There was a strong feeling within his chest that everything would work out. How could it not?
“And what do I deserve, my King?” Magenta playfully fell to a knee. There was a familiar fire in her deep brown eyes.
“I believe you already know.”
The Kingswood (Terramere)
“I’m just saying, Tym,” Gael whispered. A thick coating of underbrush separated them from the silent meadow they had staked out. “If you consider me a brother –”
Tym frowned. “It’s not like we came from the same womb.”
“We’re a family. We may have different parents, but we are brothers.”
“I get what you’re saying,” Tym interrupted. “It’s just not going to change my mind.”
Taking a deep breath, he looked at the grassy expanse in front of him. No animal had dared this path and it was almost dark. Were they not hidden well enough? It had already been three days since they crossed the Red River, and they hadn’t found a single noteworthy track.
“Let’s go,” Tym said as he stood. “We want to find somewhere to sleep before the wolves show up.” The packs had been howling uncontrollably at night. That most likely meant they were hungry.
Perhaps they weren’t the only ones who couldn’t find something to kill.
The uppermost leaves of the bush parted as Gael’s head peered into the diminishing daylight. He tossed his bow clear of the underbrush and hopped into the clearing, drawing the knife that rested at his belt. In a few valiant strokes, the boy had slain the invisible enemy that had nearly stumbled upon them.
Tym found himself laughing.
“Don’t you dare,” Gael smiled. “I just saved your life.”
Suddenly, Tym put a finger to his mouth and nocked an arrow. He had heard something at the far edge of the clearing. Gael narrowed his brow in question, and Tym pointed again. This time Gael heard it too. In a heartbeat, the two boys stood overlooking the small creek that had, thus far, been unable to produce any leads.
A small doe stood near the crystal-clear water with its eyes lifted in the opposite direction. The boys sighed and put away their arrows. Killing a young doe would only earn them the scorn of the Elders.
Just as the deer began to drink, its head reared again in alert. Its legs had barely taken a step before a pair of arrows plunged into its chest. Tym gasped as Gael’s hands threw him forcefully back into the underbrush. The only sound was his quickly beating heart.
A moment later, two tall men garbed in greens and browns that seamlessly blended in with the forest came into view at the other end of the creek. Their faces were covered in mud, obscuring any chance at identification. The man behind them, however, was merely garbed in a green cloak. His face was red with rage.
“All this way!” he shouted angrily. With a finger he pointed to the fallen doe as if he were scolding a young child. “All this way for that. What kind of trackers are you? Let me answer that for you – the ones who won’t be becoming rich anytime soon. How many hours did you just waste of my time?”
“Sorry, sir,” one of the camouflaged men responded. “The white stag could be at any stage in its lifecycle. We didn’t want to take a chance and not follow the only sure tracks we’ve seen for two days.”
The other man walked slowly over to the fallen animal and kicked it in the chest with his thick boot. His brown hair was cut short above his ears, and his dark eyes echoed his anger. A sword hung sheathed at his hip. The rage in his face made what was otherwise a pale complexion a sunburnt one.
“It’s true, Lord Teague,” the other hunter said nervously, “the stag could be this small for all we know. This close to the Deepwood, it would be foolish to take any chances.”
The Lord kicked the dead deer again and allowed the rage to drain from his face. “Even so, you still killed it,” he said, somewhat calmer. “If that beast dies by any others hand than King Brenson … well there won’t be a new king. There will only be a furious old one and the man that he just killed.”
The hunters looked at each other before one took the doe’s head between his hands and snapped its neck. “It wasn’t dead, my Lord. Only very near it.”
“Still,” Lord Teague said with a hint of anger. “That won’t do. It needs to look alive.”
“As you say,” the two other men replied as one.
“Let’s go then,” Teague commanded. “I had hoped the stag wouldn’t be in the Deepwood, but we all bloody well knew it would be.” He met the two men’s eyes bluntly with his own. “Remember, there will be no gold to pay you if we do not find it.”
“Of course,” the hunters said. “This way.” With that, the three men vanished into the dense green growth.
Tym waited a few moments before rushing to the fallen deer. He fiddled with one of the arrows for a few frustrating seconds before finally pulling it free. It looked far deadlier than any of the ones he had made himself. A series of metal spikes had somehow been woven into the arrowhead. The shaft appeared unbreakable.
“Fools,” Gael shook his head as he examined the animal. “Why would they just leave it here after killing it? Even accidently. They should have taken it with them for food.”
“Because they’re hunting something far more valuable,” Tym grinned mischievously.
“Don’t even think about, Tym. You heard the Elders as well as I did.”
“But you heard those hunters as well. We aren’t the only trackers out here struggling to find prey. What if they can lead us to more in the Deepwood?” He paused as his excitement flooded into his words. “What if we could find the white stag?”
Gael hung his head. “I’d hate to think what they would do to us if they figured out we were following them. I think its best we head away from the Deepwood. They’re called Elders for a reason, Tym.”
“Where’s your sense of adventure?” Tym asked. “Why become men when we can become kings? Even if we don’t find it, think of the stories we could tell!”
The other boy sighed and placed his hand of Tym’s shoulder. “This isn’t just about adventures for you Tym. Can’t you just let her go?”
Tym frowned. Sometimes he hated that Gael could read him so easily. But what if the hunters could actually find the white stag? What if they could overtake the King’s men and kill the beast for themselves and the tribes of the Kingswood? He knew Gael had the same thirst for adventure inside of him. If only he could draw it out…
“I hate when you have that look in your eye,” Gael smiled after a silent moment. “Are you sure I can’t talk you out of it? You know I won’t let you go alone.”
They shared a knowing grin. “Let’s find it, Gael. Together.”