ELEMENTAL DESIRES
(Novel Preview)
By derrick Stahl
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“Kill him,” the king hissed, leaning back against silk pillows. His arms hung over the edges of his chair, allowing his hands to softly pet the concrete gryphons carved into the sides of his throne.
“Please, my lord,” Isaac began to protest, “may I ask what crimes I’ve done to deserve such punishment?”
Anger exploded as the king shot to his feet, his long cape flaring behind him. His ringed fingers balled into a fist, striking the begging man and sending him face first to the marble floor. “I am Menath Hue, king of Waas, ruler of all people and things living on my island! I will not be subjected to answering the motives behind my reasoning and judgments.”
Isaac looked up, his eyes filled with fear, his cheek stained with fresh blood. “My lord,” he said through swelling lips. But that was all he was able to get out before being struck again. Isaac’s head fell to the floor once more, blackness overtaking his sight.
King Menath walked back to his throne, glancing over at the seven officials sitting at their table across the room. Seaon, Master of the Guard, was the only soul brave enough to return the king’s stare.
Menath sat down, one hand pushed up against his forehead, the other rubbing war scars that lined his upright, pointed ears. A good-sized piece of flesh had been chipped away near the tip of his left ear. “Take him out of my sight,” he called out to the guards standing at the main entrance of the court. The two guardsmen started to walk toward the fallen Isaac but stopped when Seaon rose to his feet. King Menath looked over at him, puzzlement showing in his slightly raised eyebrows.
“If you will excuse my intrusion, my king, please allow me to personally escort this trash to the dungeon. I will see to it that arrangements are made for his execution tomorrow.” He saw that the king was not amused before adding: “I have some business to attend to down in those damp pits. It will make my trip twice worth the time.”
Menath closed his eyes, waving his hand to Seaon. Just be done with it, the waved hand suggested.
Seaon pushed in his oversized wooden chair and walked across the throne room. Past numerous columns, standing fifty times a man’s height, the Master of the Guard quietly walked across the tiled marble floor and helped Isaac to his feet. By this time the sentenced man was conscious again and was able to throw a heavy arm across the shoulders of his escort. The two men slowly made their way out of the courtroom and into one of the castle’s many hallways.
“I thought you would never come to my rescue,” Isaac whispered.
Seaon leaned close as the courtroom doors slammed shut behind them. “You are far from being a free man as of yet. I must sign you into the dungeon.”
Isaac started to pull away, his trust vanishing slightly.
“Listen to me, Isaac Mynn,” Seaon said, almost raising his voice. “In the countless years we have been friends, have I ever let any harm come to you?”
“No,” he replied, his pointed ears hanging limp on the sides of his face. “You have been faithful to Samantha and I, even before you wed the two of us together. I will listen.”
“Good. As I said,” Seaon continued, “I must sign you in. The king receives a report of all the names of new prisoners. If he does not see your name on that list tonight, I’m afraid my neck will be right beside yours on the cutting block.”
The two men rounded a corner in the hall, entered a bolt-covered metal door, and started to descend the spiraled stairs. Being alone now, Seaon was able to raise his voice a little. “But the list,” he said, “does not include why the prisoner was arrested or what their sentence was.”
“So you’ll sign me in and then send me home to my wife? I can’t thank you enough—”
Seaon started to laugh, trying to drown out the despair raging deep inside him. “I’m afraid it will not be that easy, my good friend. You see, I do not write the names. And I do not see a way that I can. So I’m afraid you will have to stay in the pits for a week or so.” He looked over at his long-time companion.
“I’m still listening …” Isaac was able to stutter.
“I will see to it that no ill treatment will come your way while you stay in the dungeons. You will receive warm meat and cold water two times a day and—”
“But what if the king wants to witness my execution tomorrow? What will we do then?”
“I shall simply tell Menath that you were killed early that morning. I’ll apologize for his not being able to see your demise and then move on with business. Once I tell him about the poor workmanship on the new swords being distributed to his guards, Menath will not think of you again.”
“It sounds like a decent plan. I pray that it will work.”
“Yes, my friend. Pray indeed.”
**
Menath Hue called the two guards away from the door a second time. They came close to his throne, bowing to their knees in submission. “You,” he said, pointing to the guard on his right. “I want you to take a message to the maid in charge of the living quarters for the queen and me.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Tell her to ready my wife for me and to have her waiting in the main bedroom of the west sector of the castle. Do you know how to get there?”
“Yes, my lord,” he said, still keeping his head bowed. “I have worked in this castle for many years.”
Menath picked up his wine goblet, swirling the red liquid around. He brought up his arm and then stopped, the rim of the glass resting on his bottom lip. “Then go,” he said, the steam of his words frosting the edges of his goblet.
The soldier got to his feet immediately. “It would be my pleasure.”
**
“But why does the king want to kill me in the first place?” Isaac asked as they rounded the last corner that led to the dungeon pits.
“King Hue feels that his power is slowly slipping away from the eyes of his people. Your execution is a way to reassure himself that he still has power over his subjects.”
“I don’t quite understand,” Isaac returned.
“You’ve done nothing wrong, especially something deserving death,” Seaon assured. “Menath does things like this because he can. Because he’s—”
“Crazy?”
“In simple terms,” Seaon answered, “yes.”
“That’s far enough,” a voice said from down the passage. The two men stopped.
“I bring a prisoner. Sign him in and then let me escort him home for his last rights.”
Isaac looked over in surprise. “To see my wife?” he asked. “Sir, I thank you with all of my—”
“Silence, you dog!” Seaon snapped. He brought his fist around Isaac in a flash of skin and cloth. His closed fingers caught the prisoner in the ribs, stopping before causing any serious pain. Isaac fell to the rock-paved floor, coughing and holding his stomach.
The three soldiers down the hall watched in amazement. “… such speed,” one of them was able to stammer out.
“If you speak out of turn again,” Seaon continued, “I may just have to change my mind about the whole ordeal. And if you do have a wife at home, I think she would like to see you once more before you die.” He looked down at him, pity filling his eyes. Isaac lay on the floor, released a mocking cough of pain and then looked back up to Seaon, a tiny smile spread over his lips. “Now sign him in, quickly,” Seaon said, looking back up at the guards. “I haven’t got all day to wait for you!”
“Yes, sir,” one of them responded, turning toward a table with an open book upon it. “What is the prisoner’s name?” the guard asked.
Before Isaac could take a breath, Seaon gave him a fake kick to the chest and barked: “Speak when a guard asks you a question!”
The prisoner pushed his acting talents to their limits with a coughing gasp for air. “Yes … sir,” he said. He looked at the guard down the hall and called out: “My name is …” he choked up on his words, wheezing and holding a palm to his breast. Seaon rolled his eyes; his friend was a terrible actor of pain. “… is Isaac Mynn,” he finally said.
The three guards turned and started to walk toward Seaon and Isaac. “I’m sure you know the rules,” the guard on the right said. “Two fully armed soldiers must accompany any prisoner during their last rights.”
“Even during the sweet parts,” the guard on the left sneered. That brought a small laugh to them all, save Seaon and Isaac.
“Tell me where the prisoner lives and I will escort him home,” the guard in the middle said.
“I think not,” Seaon responded quickly. “He is my prisoner and I will take him. If any of you have a problem with that, you may talk to my supervisor about it.”
“And who might that be?” the middle soldier asked. “Unless it’s the king himself, I’m afraid you can’t take this prisoner home by yourself. We have strict rules about—”
“You think I don’t know the rules?” Seaon yelled. “I wrote half of them!”
The guards stopped in their tracks, still a few yards away from the two men. “Seaon, sir … is that you?” the guard on the right asked. “It’s been so long since you’ve paid the dungeon a visit, we all have forgotten your voice and face.”
“It is none other,” he said, holding his position.
“Forgive us, sir. We didn’t know that you—”
“Nonsense!” the guard in the middle yelled. “I don’t care who you are! Even if you wrote the rule, I still can’t let you break it without higher authority.” He stared at Seaon; dirty sweat from working down here in the pits fell from his stubble-covered cheeks. “I’m curious as to who this ‘Supervisor’ of yours is, old man.”
Seaon smiled, holding back most of the laughter that bubbled up in his throat. He pulled back the right side of his gray cloak, revealing a three-foot long broadsword hanging from a sheath on his belt. “I present this old man’s supervisor,” he said. “His name is Bruce and he has a terrible doubled edged temper.”
The middle guard reared his head back in defiant laughter, the sweat flying off in all directions. The remaining two guards blinked, missing Seaon’s reaction. The laughing stopped abruptly. The middle guard let his head flop forward until it rested on the shining blade that stuck out of his neck.
Seaon looked over to the guard on the right. “‘Such speed,’ I believe you called it earlier,” he said, retracting his weapon from the dead man’s throat. “Do I still need two escorts to take this prisoner home?”
“No, sir,” they both responded with a small salute. “But if he doesn’t return within a day,” the right guard said, “we are not able to stop a search party from going out after him.” He took a breath and then added: “And for you as well.” He jumped back, waiting for another swing from Seaon’s blade. None came.
“I understand.” Seaon wiped his blade off on the fallen man’s clothes and then sheathed it. He looked down at Isaac. Small spatters of the guard’s blood covered the top of his head, making tiny red dots in his white hair. “Come along,” he ordered.
**
King Menath swung open one of the large double doors of his bedchamber. The heavy studded oak door hit the wall with a soft thud, shaking the elaborate portraits of his forefathers that hung there. They were all ugly—though the paintings were nicely done, the people in them were nothing to look at. Large and bulky men were the trait in the Hue lineage. “We can grow ‘em big and strong, but we can’t seem to put a hint of beauty in them,” Menath’s father had once told him. The thought brought a faint smile to him that never reached his lips.
“Pria told me that you wanted to see me,” a woman’s voice said, taking hold of Menath’s attention. Danielle sat on the bed, her back to the door. She was wearing a favorite sleeping gown of Menath’s—long, white, and see-through if the light shown just right. “By the way she stated the message, I guessed you wanted to try and conceive an heir again.”
Menath closed the door behind him, bolting it shut, and walked over to his wife. He stood behind her, waiting for her to turn … waiting for her to submit.
She did, slightly turning her neck and flicking orange-blonde hair off of her slender and long ears. He remembered the day he first saw her. She had worn her hair pulled back that day, her strong ears pointing toward the heavens, the tips of them almost towering above the top of her head. In her younger days, Danielle was beautiful. Most of those qualities still shown though the years of hardship and pains, but they were fading quickly with age. Menath ran his large fingers down the side of her left ear, remembering the love he once had for her.
The love he had!
“So many years and still no children,” he said in a low and frightening tone.
“Yes, my lord, I know.” She started to tremble. “But I think tonight may be the one we have been waiting for.”
Menath brought his hand down from her ear and across her face, leaving red marks behind on her light skin. “You are not here to think!” he yelled. “You are here for one reason only! And for years you have failed at the simple task that was given to you!” He raised his hand to strike her again.
“I’m sorry,” she begged. “My lord, tonight I will conceive your son!”
He looked down at her, lowering his arm, and untied his cape. “You had better do so,” he said. “Now get undressed.”
**
A knock at the front of the house brought Samantha Mynn running to the door. She swung it open, not caring about the wind and rain that stormed into her small home. Two men stood in the doorway and she threw her arms around them both, pulling them inside and out of the weather.
“I was worried you might be dead,” she yelled, kissing Isaac all over his face.
“No, my love, not yet anyway. Seaon still has a lot to work out before I’m home for good, I’m afraid.”
“What do you mean?” she said, taking a step back to look at the two men.
Seaon closed the door and bolted it against the wind. “Why don’t we have a seat by the fire and talk it over,” he said. And then added: “That is … if you don’t mind, Samantha.”
“Don’t be crazy,” she said with a smile. “Go have a seat and warm yourselves while I make you two some hot tea.”
“That would be wonderful,” Seaon said, kissing Samantha on the cheek. “It is good to see you again, my dear.” He took off his cloak, hung it on a wooden peg by the door and met Isaac by the fire.
The house wasn’t elaborate by any means. It was a nice and simple one-room home with a separated section for necessaries and a waist-high wall separating the bed from the rest of the house. Seaon walked through the kitchen area, across the main room, and then took a seat on the fireplace’s upraised hearth. Isaac sat on a padded couch with a wool blanket wrapped around his legs and feet. He was staring past Seaon and into the fire, a slightly disappointed look on his face. Seaon looked over, seeing that the wood was starting to dwindle down. He looked back at Isaac and said: “I’d like to help with that also, but I’m a water man myself.”
Isaac laughed. “I know. Perhaps I’ll have you fill the tub for me tonight … if I have enough time, that is. It would be a lot easier than trying to draw water from the well on a night like this.”
“I’m sure something like that could be worked out,” he said, nodding his head a little.
Seaon noticed the gratitude shining in the look from Isaac. He and Samantha were so compassionate, so loving. He was blessed to have friends like these, and he thanked God for them continually.
“Well,” Isaac said, “I won’t have you freeze as long as you stay in my house.” He lifted his arm, palm and fingers pointed toward the fire. His wrist made a slight twitch, making the flames by Seaon leap up and fill the fireplace again.
Seaon backed away from the heat a little; it was almost too much. “Thank you,” he said. “That is much bet—”
A high-pitched whistle cut Seaon’s words off in mid sentence. Samantha quickly picked up a kettle off of the coal-burning stove and set it down beside her on the counter. She poured some of the water into three mugs and then brought them over to the men. She set them down on the short wooden table that sat in front of the couch and then dropped a small white pouch-like bag into each cup of water. “You’ll have to wait a few minutes for the water to absorb the tea pack,” she said, handing one of the mugs to Seaon first and then to her husband. She looked at Seaon and then went on to ask: “So Isaac can’t stay home … what’s going on?”
Seaon leaned back against the wall, the fire still at his side. “I had to sign Isaac into the list of new prisoners for the pits. If I didn’t, King Menath would have noticed his name missing and suspect foul play. If we—”
“So you signed him in? That means he can stay here,” Samantha interrupted. “I mean, the dungeons are big … who would notice he was missing?”
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” Isaac reassured. “Seaon was able to bring me here only as my last rights.”
Samantha gasped, almost dropping her tea.
“But I will be home for good in a week,” Isaac quickly said. “If Seaon and I don’t go back in the morning, the dungeon will send guards throughout the city until they find me.”
“And me, as well,” Seaon added.
“Why does he have to stay there a whole week?” Samantha asked. “It can’t be just a day or two?” She took a breath and then added: “Maybe only a few hours?”
Seaon cast his eyes to the floor. “I’m afraid not,” he said. “One week is the shortest I’m willing to risk. If he’s there for any time shorter than that, questions will be raised as to why he was even jailed. A week is the shortest dungeon time allotted in the court.”
Isaac gloomily nodded his head in agreement.
“But you’re coming home?” Samantha asked, softly rubbing the side of her husband’s neck.
“I promise you he will come home,” Seaon said. He then stood up, turning toward the door. “Isaac, if you wish to take a bath, I’ll need your help heating the water.”
“Of course,” he responded, getting to his feet.
They walked to the small room that held the tub. Seaon lifted his left hand, palm up, and whispered an old spell in the ancient Wasson language. A small pool of water materialized in his palm, slid between his fingers, and fell into the bathtub. He did this a second time, and then turned his hand over, letting the water fall out of his hand in a steady flow.
While Seaon was busy with that, Isaac balled his hands into fists and then heated them until they were engulfed with flame. He held his hands under the stream of water that was falling from Seaon’s palm, heating it as the tub was being filled.
After a few minutes, their task was complete. White steam softly swayed up into the air from the surface of the water. “We do a pretty good job when we combine our magic,” Isaac commented as they walked back out to the main room.
“As always,” Seaon agreed.
Isaac walked back across the room and stood behind his wife. They both looked back at Seaon simultaneously. “Thank you for the help you always give to us,” Samantha said. “Will you honor me in having another cup of tea?” She looked up at her husband’s face only to see him smiling back at her.
Seaon laughed slightly. “Although that offer is hard to refuse, I’ll let you two have some time alone. Isaac, I will be back to pick you up in the morning.”
Isaac and Samantha turned to say their thanks, but stopped when they saw no one else in the room. Seaon’s cloak was no longer hanging on the peg. Isaac noticed that the door was unbolted so he got up to lock it.
As he slid the iron latch back into place, he said to Samantha: “That man can sneak around, move quieter than a cat, and disappear without a trace …” He smiled. “But he can’t latch a door from the outside.”
She came up behind him, throwing loving arms around his shoulders, and held him for a short while. “When the guards came this morning,” she said, almost crying at the thought, “I didn’t think I would ever see you again.” She turned him around and kissed him on the lips. “But I should have known God would bring you back somehow.”
“And what better man could He have picked than Seaon to do the task?”
“We owe Seaon our lives many times over, you know that.”
Isaac sighed. “I only wish we could think of somehow to repay him. Nothing seems to be enough.”
“I guess the only thing we can do,” she said, “is be the best friends he has. That’s all we can do really.” Isaac agreed. “But for right now,” she said, lifting her top lip to playfully show her teeth, “why don’t you go get washed up?” She ran a finger down the side of his face, stopping when she got to his mouth. “Once you’re done with yours and Seaon’s magic water in there, I have some magic of my own to show you.”
These pages were taken from the beginning of
Elemental Desires
By derrick Stahl
www.ForgottenRose.com
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