The Art Of Queens

MAGNUS

MAGNUS

The night was the longest Magnus had come to know, and the first that he prayed for to end. From his window he watched the first light powdering the night away from the cold and bluing void as the frozen morning sea breeze goosed his skin. He could not sleep after he left the Surranathayne girl with the pigs, and his conscience fatigued him. Today the ten clan heads would meet his grandfather here to witness the burning of the phoenix by midday, for the king they all sought help and power from commanded that all his clan heads of old Castraland should bear witness to the beginning of the greatest era the world will ever know, the era of the black kings. There was something about that inside Magnus’ head that sounded so painful. He was old enough to know that no man could overthrow the world without massive murders and great suffering, and Evvan Rushayde appeared to be enjoying that.
Convincing all the clan heads to keep the Surranathayne girl alive was impossible in truth and Magnus accepted that, but he might be able to convince his grandfather if he constructed his point well. If there was one good thing about this everlasting night, it was the eternity it granted him to think long and deep of what to do. Applying common knowledge from his thirteen years of experience here with the islanders, the knowledge of history and monarchy he acquired from his rabbi and his understanding of what people wanted here, were just enough for him to devise a plan.
The light from today’s sun turned yellow in the east and somewhere on its horizon were four ships coming up. They looked so tiny, like bugs, but if the winds were kept for much longer, they would soon be anchored in the distance towering over them like great castles. Merkon’s eight ships had been gone for so long that rumors were started that they were taken by the Vanishing Sea, but of course this was not true, for not even the greatest fool would sail anywhere near those waters.
Magnus dressed himself quickly in a grey woolen suit and left his chamber to find his rabbi Avron before the ships arrived. He was still asleep when Magnus arrived at his hut, wrapped from head to toe in brown goatskin like a baby. Magnus entered the hut to wake him peacefully since his voice was not enough to do the trick. Something caught his eyes on the stone floor before he made his first step. It was a necklace made from horse hairs and the fangs of pythons, and Magnus knew exactly who it belonged to. It was a very good explanation as to why he was not yet awake.
“Rabbi.” Magnus shook him gently at first, and he still did not budge. It was as if he was dead. Magnus shook him harder and harder until his bulbous eye peaked from under their lids ridden with sleep.
“Rabbi…”
Avron looked upon Magnus barely awake and with no choice he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
“I need your help.” Magnus told him as he savored a long and hard yawn.
“Before morning?” Avron asked as he unwrapped himself before Magnus.
A long and rounded belly hung before him like that of a pregnant woman, and Magnus wondered how could a thing like that happen to a man. Avron found some garment from one corner of the hut and began dressing himself as Magnus watched the floor trying to avoid seeing his disgusting and distracting body.
“How important is it Magnus?”
“Oh, my apologies for coming here so…early.” Magnus regained his focus and glanced at Avron hoping he was done clothing himself.
“Are the clan heads here yet?”
“Am not sure, I don’t think so though…but that is a part of why I am here.”
Avron found a water pouch from somewhere and swallowed a few mouthfuls.
“This is about the girl…the last phoenix?”
“Yes you follow well rabbi.”
“I have been following my whole life.”
“Your good at it…I have been told that my grandfather will burn the innocent girl today at midday when the other clan heads get here…”
“And you disapprove.” Avron assumed as he found a comfortable seat on where he slept.
“Of course I disapprove rabbi, I know you will understand this is not the way of civilized people, for many years you taught me the proper way, the right, not this barbarism. What good could come of burning an innocent child?” Magnus asked. Avron raised a weary brow and looked away from him.
“She is no ordinary child, and far from innocent based on what I hear.”
“Still does not make burning her alive any less wrong.” Magnus told him.
“What can you do about it Magnus? Nothing, no one here will listen to you, you are a Grithansas. When these people come into this world to suffer, and they see what we have to sacrifice, the pain we have to face and the blood we must bleed just to see another fish on our plates while the others in the world live far easier, how do you think they feel? And to know that long ago, their lives were just as easy but your forefather took that away from them. Do you think anyone on any of the Thirty-two Mountain Isle really want to see you here alive?” Avron asked. He was not entirely angry, and he was not angry with Magnus either. Mag could tell he was just educating him subliminally, but it was more direct to Mag’s eyes.
“No.” He replied meekly.
“It is the same way they see her, the only difference between you and her is that you are the grandchild of Merkon Kekkeh by his choice and she is not. She will burn today Magnus Grithansas, and there is nothing you can do to stop that…and remember if you try to stop them, she probably will not be the only one.” Avron told him and turned the water pouch at his head again.
“They will never listen to me, but they will listen to you Avron.” Magnus replied calmly.
Avron emptied the pouch, belched and looked at Magnus with a wonder on his face. Mag was sure he wanted to hear now.
“What would you have me tell them?” He asked.
“Not them, they won’t listen to everything you have to say, just my grandfather. You will back me in what I will tell him, give me your strongest support and let him see that you are certain that what I say is the best option for everyone especially his people.” Magnus explained.
“What will I be backing if I agreed?” Avron asked. This was progress to Magnus.
“King Evvan Rushayde is the king of Bezaly, and nearing to becoming the king of Aspyra. He aspires to become the king of everywhere, of every land. He will not want any other man of the Hungry Sea or anywhere else to rule with him.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Because of what he did to his brother’s family, his own family.” Magnus reminded him and Avron’s eyes said point taken.
“Whatever Evvan promises any man here, is horse shit. He wants the girl dead to ensure that no one in her bloodline will ever threaten his reign over Bezaly and you and I both know that a country will never turn their backs on the rightful heir to their kingdom as long as she lives. Evvan is just using us. We may never hear from him again after she is dead, and where will we be? Here still in pain, suffering, bleeding and making sacrifices for the next fish on our plates.” Magnus told him.
“That is a great problem, if it were true of course which it may well not be. You look as if you have a solution, do you?” Avron asked. His face was overly impressed this morning and it was all the better, a great sign of hope and Magnus smiled confidently.
“We keep her alive and well, treat her just as good as you have treated me and put her back on her father’s throne. She will be grateful, and all our people can move there for a better life.”
“The same reason your grandfather had you made? You give him claim to the land of Grithantis yet we are still here on Isle Twenty-one.” Avron told him. It was as if he had something to counteract every idea Magnus shared and will continue to.
“This is different. My forefathers were slave masters, everyone in Grithantis hated them, but this girl’s forefathers ruled Bezaly since the dawn of the phoenix and the first sun, her people loves her, and they want her back. They will support her if she reaches out to them I know they will.” Magnus told him. Avron tossed his water pouch to the corner where he found it and sighed heavily thinking about this.
“Our people will never support a white, especially not a woman. It has never and will never happen. That is just the way it is, learn to live with it.” Avron told him.
“Rabbi please you must listen to me, hear my words.” Magnus fell to his knees and pleaded on Avron’s hand.
“Your years of reading gave you quite the imagination Magnus, but I cannot support your theories.”
“Please Avron I beg of you, I swear on my life to the black god that I will forever be in your debt.” Magnus pleaded and looked up at Avron who rose to his feet.
“I am sorry.” He nodded.
A tear ran down Mag’s cheek and his heart shivered from broken hopes falling from the highest inside him. He reached into his pocket and clenched the necklace so tight that it pierced his hand.
“You will help me willingly, or otherwise rabbi.” Magnus showed it to him.
Avron’s bulbous eyes grew even bigger and his mouth grew as wordless and empty as a new born babe’s.
“You know I know who will come looking for this rabbi.”
“Why did you bring that here? To show me?” Avron asked after he wiped the surprise from his sweating face, and suddenly Zibah came hurrying through the doorway of the hut. Avron was doomed now, for Zibah had tossed a question inside just a moment before she realized Avron had company.
“My necklace.” The words fell from her lips and shattered like glass at her feet.
Avron looked at her, she looked at the necklace in Magnus’s hand, and Magnus studied them both as he slowly shoved it back into his pocket. Zibah began to cry and Avron’s face grew bitter. Never before had Magnus seen him like this.
“You say nothing to no one.” He stated.
“I don’t want to.” Mag replied.
“Magnus…” Zibah whispered. Her eyes already rinsed with salted tears. She was never good at hiding anything, and Magnus expected better from his rabbi.
“I will do as you ask Magnus Grithansas, and you will do as I ask.”
“Aye…I will, you won’t have anything to worry about. I have known of your relations for some time now and I never once whispered it to myself.” Magnus assured him.
He knew they had a deal now, he was certain of this for he and the rabbi both knew that the burning of the phoenix could very well change for the worst. Avron came upon crying Zibah with open arms. When he held her, she grew so weak yet calm. Avron’s whispers were of the most comforting words she could hear right now…
Magnus then saw that he was not using her for his pleasures alone, but he may very well love her as much as she appeared to love him. Mag dipped into his pocket, pulled the necklace out and placed it in Avron’s hand.
“Prepare for my grandfather rabbi.” He said, then he left to ready himself.
He was playing with fire now, a small one…but that is how they all start; he thought. Walking back to his place inside the house of the Kekkeh’s, he remained sharp on the lookout for the coming ships. They were a bit nearer than before, but still a far way out. On the flat isle where the bonfires burned at nights, were men setting up chairs for the coming clan heads, while women and children rebuilt the bonfire for the Surranathayne girl. He bit his teeth and looked away forbidding that thought and right there by his doorway stood his grandfather all dressed in fine black leather, golden chains with rubies in his buttons, boasting the finest leather boots Magnus had ever seen. For a moment he was unrecognizable. It was of most importance for him to look the part today when the others came, and Magnus expected they too would be in similar attire. Merkon’s head was freshly shaved and his ashy beard was even more puffy than the usual. Indeed he was ready to meet his guests.
Magnus felt his chest weaken for a moment and his heart began to race. He thought at least four times before he spoke and held his words back out of fear. Merkon must have sensed the change somewhere in the wind, for he turned and looked directly into Magnus’ eyes making them even more nervous. His heart drummed harder and his mouth was conceived with words instantly.
“Ewy maldi.”
“Why are you not dressed” Merkon replied.
“I did not want to be too late, you should not burn the girl. She means more to you alive than you know.”
Merkon bulbous eyes glared at him, away to the sea with the breeze, then back. He appeared to be mulling a thought somewhere, but it may have slipped away causing him to wonder. It was as if he heard nothing Magnus said just now.
“Grandfather…”
“Hmm? Sorry, the wind, it blew horse shit in my ears. Why is it you are not dressed again?” Merkon asked. Magnus sighed and rubbed the itch on his bare head.
“Evvan Rushayde will not honor whatever he promises for her head.”
“You saw her?” Merkon questioned.
“Barely.” Mag hesitated.
“Enough for her to poison your mind.”
“She did not poison my mind grandfather.” Magnus’ anger boiled but simmered quick enough.
“She said nothing to me…how could you treat a person like that? Another human being, an innocent child. What has she done?” Emotions filled his eyes.
“Children and innocent people die all the time for the betterment of the world. Not because something is wrong means it will never happen.” Merkon approached his side, placed a hand on his shoulder and pointed across the crags of Isle Twenty-one.
“There by the fireside is where Evvan Rushayde earned his name, the Grey shark. When Castraland was a flourishing continent of black in all its former glory, all the greats would climb Mount Twenty one and be reborn on that very stone. There is where great things begin to happen, it has been so since forever began. It was made sanctified by the black god, and I only saw fit that you were conceived and born on that very stone. You may look like her kind, but you are of us more than it shows.” Merkon told him.
Mag could see everything happening in his mind as he listened, but it did not turn him from his good intentions.
“If I am of you, then why do you not ever hear what I have to say?”
Merkon hummed a laugh and looked to his boots then at his grandchild.
“I am listening.”
“You know I am no fool, and I would not have gathered the courage for this if I was uncertain.” Magnus began studying Merkon’s face.
“I know.”
“You are no fool either grandfather, you know better than to trust a man who brought brutal ends to his own brother’s family, his own blood because he wanted certainty that he would never be replaced by another of the Hungry Sea. This girl you chain with the pigs is the only one in the right to the throne of Bezaly, her name endangers Evvan and he will always be looking over his shoulders as long as she lives and that is why you must kill her, so he can keep her kingdom and offer your people a few acres to settle and farm. But you know better than to trust a man with his reputation grandfather. He will not play fair and make any of us lords or kings under his existence, but you can be if you support the girl you chain with the pigs.” Magnus explained.
Merkon was deep in thoughts Mag noted. He stood there gazing at nothing for a time and on his face a moment later was the uncertainty of what was best to do.
“You think about it, and don’t believe a thing because you want to. Open your eyes and think with your mind. Run this by your advisor if you must.” Magnus told him and turned away to leave.
“You tell him.” Merkon said. Mag looked over his shoulder at the puzzled old man.
“Tell Avron to see me in my quarters immediately.” He commanded.
And Magnus did just that...
Merkon’s best dancers entertained them all under the burning sun, moving to the vibrations of goatskin drums as they flowed to and fro with the salt breeze of Isle Twenty-one. Their nine heavily accompanied guests waited patiently for Merkon to greet them as Magnus watched them nervously from the red curtain shading his window. His grandfather was still inside his quarters with Avron discussing his opinion, and he prayed to every god there was to open the clan heads eyes and ears, the way a hopeless mother prayed from her knees in tears for her dying infant.
Magnus was familiar with a few names of the clan heads from all over the Hungry Sea, not with their faces, but the youngest of the lot was definitely Ricne Vergolyn of Isle Twenty, the newest clan head of the Thirty-two Mountain Isles. His father and older brothers died some months ago fighting for Evvan Rushayde in the battle of the shark and the phoenix. Magnus was certain that he especially would never be convinced to support the last phoenix now, for then his father and brothers would have died in vain, and his people would stop supporting him. The others all looked so cold and grim. Perhaps they grew tired of waiting for a man who was not above them, or the dancers were not doing their jobs well. Magnus did not mind waiting, as long as Avron was doing his part well enough, it will be worth it.
The Kekkehs and the Okrans greeted the clan heads, warmly exchanging hugs and words it appeared and all was going smooth. They took their places still enjoying the beat of the drums as their heads all turned to see by the crags to the bon. A man pulling a chain came into sight below from Mag’s window. The metal clanged and dinged as he stopped then yanked it hard for the amusement of the audience. The Surranathayne girl wearing a garment of pig crap was then attacked by flying rocks like knives. Somehow she managed to walk still as more made her acquaintance drawing blood. Magnus’ anger boiled in his gut like ore. Instantly he was out and shortly he was there shouting his grandfather’s name as he scanned the area for him.
They all stared at him whispering negatively among themselves as the clan heads watched with scornful eyes as the place grew as quiet as the winds. Magnus found The Surranathayne girl on her face in ashes and sand near the bon. He took off his gray woolen cloak and covered as much as he could of her as he tried to help her up.
A face of blood looked up at him, her eyes rinsing the red with tears yet she made no sound. His mouth grew wordless again and his skin grew cold with hate for everyone watching, he did not wish to see them anymore for they were the very wicked that they proclaimed the white race to be. Blurs of green looked up at him as she clung to his hand and whispered. “Kill me.”
Magnus knew not what to think anymore, and before he could mull the thought, a pair of aggressive hands threw him from her. It was his uncle Abben, the last living son of Merkon.
“What do you think you are doing Dead White?”
Magnus tried to stand but his uncle girthed his throat and threw him down again. Magnus’ anger flared and he found the heaviest rock near his hand to strike back when out of nowhere his grandfather grabbed his hand and shook him.
“Grandson!” He shook him harder.
Magnus was still in heat for blood with dread blue eyes aiming at his laughing uncle. Magnus hated him long ago and even more since now.
“Look at me!” Merkon shouted shocking him back to reality heavy out of breath from the rage of temper.
“You disappoint me now? Hmm…” He asked releasing him.
Magnus studied his face as Merkon showed him the solid stone he took from his hand.
“No grandfather, I am sorry.” His head weighed low.
“You disappoint me even more. A grown boy is all you have become.” Merkon told Abben.
His proudness disappeared as quickly as it came before he spoke.
“But Father…”
“Be somewhere else.”
Merkon’s anger flared but his disappointment in Magnus burned through him far worse.
“Balan take them away, until the meeting is over.” Merkon told his biggest guard and he acted instantly on the order.
The clan heads were following towards them except for one, the grim who oozed nothing but mystery with a face like poison. Magnus began explaining himself hoping to stay as he watched them dragging the Surranathayne girl to her death, but they took him away still.
He was taken to the other side of the isle where he could not see or hear anything but the sea. He was angry at the guard who pulled the Surranathayne to the bon, at his stupid uncle, and at himself for failing his grandfather. Merkon nor Avron answered him when he asked what he was to expect of them as the guard carried him away, and this trapped him in a fatiguing suspense. The guard ignored him in every way except when he tried to escape six failures ago. The crashing waves troubled his ears and no matter how hard he listened to hear a mere sound from the meeting, all he heard were the stupid seagulls squirming around the coast.
The sky was still bright and clear and no smoke rose thick enough to break his heart. Impatiently he watched and wondered pacing back and forth, scratching his scalp away as his heart skipped on his thoughts. Even though he hated everyone who enjoyed Layra’s humiliation, he still hoped they would support his grandfather if he made the right decision. Realizing he was now completely powerless, he found refuge and hope in the only ones who could help him truly. The gods.
After sometime, a thick cloud of black smoke began to rise through the sky. Magnus’ heart cracked and tears filled his eyes. He grew so weak from the knees on which he prayed for so long, and right then he knew the gods hated him, both the gods of black and white. The guard ignored him still and stood there like a rock at the only entrance and exit for who wished to walk away, and Magnus laid there in anger until someone else came. He cared not to see who it was, but it was a very unfamiliar voice.
“Bring Magnus now!” The voice demanded. Mag turned to see, it was Ricne Vergolyn the new leader head of Isle Twenty, and he did not look at ease. Blood brightly stained his silver sword and fine black leather. The guard placed a hand on his scythe.
“Does not sound like the meeting is over.”
Ricne looked up at him anxiously and stood down.
“The meeting is over, and they are dead.”
“Killed them yourself?” The guard asked sarcastically.
“Gargon Anikke did, and Magnus must come with me if he is to stay.”
“Stay where?” Mag asked confused.
“Alive.” Ricne replied.
“Is my grandfather really dead?” Magnus forced from his throat.
“They called him traitor to the black king of Bezaly for sparing the girls life, and for naming his half white grandson his heir.”
The guard mounted form to fight, welding his scythe to the air and struck hard and true.