Chapter Ten
As the day comes to an end and I find myself standing before my tent being set up for the night, the placement of the King's tent has changed tonight. No longer is that massive gold and crimson tent pitched beside his lead warrior's, but beside his tracker and the very women he swore he would never allow to return home. Crossing my arms, I watch as the four men pitch my tent, a horse standing beside me with a cart containing the other objects in my tent like my chest and cot. As I look to my right, I see the King's men setting up his tent, identical to mine in shape, but twice the size of mine which is already big compared to the tents that the warriors share with multiple individuals. The King is walks towards his tent as I take a seat upon one of the rocks by the horse I am by, hands on my knees as I find my eyelids heavy. I just want a good night's sleep, to dream of nothing but going home and laying back in my own bed. Usually for nights like this where I find myself tired and having to stay up for a few more minutes, I would pull out my phone and play some game, but out here, in Iduna, it would be unrealistic to even have the technology of a Nokia phone.
"Lady Candice, getting set up for the night?" The King asks me, one of the few questions he has asked me since that incident in the woods where I found myself against a tree and being told he would never let me return home. He thinks my home to be some simple pack of wolves a month's travel away, but little does he know it is in another realm and tomorrow, perhaps all I need to do is say the right words and slip back into the mirror. Would I go back home tomorrow if I had enough of this world and gave up on my father? A small piece of me dares me to go back home, to forget about my father here, to go back to my home and greet those that I love with a smile as I have missed them. But I need to find my father, to know why he left years ago, to know why he killed a King, and to know why he never came back home. "Would you like to have a drink in my tent when it is done being pitched for the night?" It is asked as any question would be asked, but I know it is more of a demand than anything.
A demand I will not submit to. "I would, but perhaps another night. I am afraid I am lightheaded and need all the rest I can attain tonight," I reply kindly, looking back to the tent being pitched before me as I nervously tap my fingers along to some old 90′s tune. Rather than leave it be like I had hoped Kyril would, he walks over to me, crouching down for his eyes to meet mine as I can see his jaw is clenched, lips slightly parted as he is about to answer, but stops himself.
"You sure you do not need a drink? Something strong to cure that headache of yours?" He asks, making it clear to me that he will not back down from me going into his tent and having some conversation and drink with him. I cannot win here, seeing that he is stubborn. I remind myself that soon I will leave him, that I will find my exit and take it the first chance that I get.
Taking in a deep breath, I reluctantly nod my head. "Just one and nothing more. I need my sleep," I strong state, making sure he understands that I will not put up with him past that amount of time I will give him. As his tent is fully pitched and his men begin to unload the massive amount of crap he packed with him, he reminds me of my mother for a journey. How much stuff he has brought with him reminds me of her, how she over packs for every single trip, three suitcases for a weekend getaway. Looking back to the King who stands up back to his original height, I ask myself what will happen if the Temple holds nothing for me to be useful for and he decides to call the trip off and pulls me back with him to his palace. I am certain that the journal is within the walls of that Temple, but what if something happened and it is not there? My whole cause for going along on this trip will be gone and the King will make sure I never leave him. I should not concern myself with those thoughts before bed when I want a peaceful sleep but knowing that I must converse with the King first guarantees a stressful night.
"Lady Candice," he calls out, holding out his hand to me as I see that in the time my thoughts consumed me, the men have finished unloading and his royal tent is all ready for the night. I do not take his hand, rather getting onto my own two feet without any assistance as I keep my eyes trained on the tent and not the King who gives me a stern glare. Walking ahead of him, I enter the tent first, the ostentatious interior of the tent informing me that he does indeed like to travel in style. A cot that is more of a kind-sized bed than cot is placed in the center, a dark brown fur blanket with golden embroidery on the edges covering the bed with two silky pillows, two wooden nightstands on either side of the bed holding candles lit as well as a fancy bow with four arrows. All along the walls are extravagant tapestries of mountains and oceans, four trunks on one side with a King's armor placed upon one, a harp-like instrument on another, and the third opened to where cloaks made of expensive fur is on display. For the other side of the tent, bookshelves with ancient-looking and homemade books and journals as well as liquor to the max. "Take a seat," King Kyril adds to the silence of the night, motioning me towards a small sitting area right before the foot of the bed, comfy looking as I want to just lie there and sleep.
I do not upset the King, taking a seat on one of the chairs, hands clasped together as I find myself nervous in his tent. Am I afraid of him taking advantage of me, forcing me into something I do not wish to do? For some reason, I trust him, I believe that he will do nothing to force me into anything. I have no idea where this trust has come from, but I am not a fan of it. "What do you prefer to drink?"
"Water," I reply, finding myself craving the tasteless substance as I just want to have that in my system and no alcohol.
"I doubt water is what you need for that headache of yours," Kyril comments, going to his shelf of liquor as he takes out a fancy glass and pours me some lavender-colored drink. "I think you'll take a liking in this one." I have had many alcoholic drinks due to cliché high school parties and have come to know my liquor names well, but I have no idea what this is or how my body will react to it. Never take drinks from strangers, but right now, I have not too much of a choice due to my weird trusting him. "Drink." Handing me the glass, I thank the King, looking to the liquid inside as it smells like what I would expect a bachelorette party to smell like. As the King pours the same drink for himself, he walks back over to me, sitting across from me as he raises his glass, toasting. "To a successful day tomorrow," he toasts, watching as I raise my glass as well.
"To a successful day tomorrow," I reply, cheering with him as we both take a drink, the taste of the liquid filling my mouth as it is like a bitter cinnamon with rum. It is good to say the least. A good flavor for alcohol.
Within ten minutes our drinks are down, the two of us more relaxed as I find that I am no longer lightheaded. With barely any words spoken between the two of us, I decide to make the move, knowing that I just want to curl up on my cot and sleep. "Well, my King, thank you for the drink, but I am off to bed now."
The King's eyebrows knit together, his lips forming a thin line as he shakes his head. "Even if I order it, you still have the guts to call me your King rather than my own name."
He's back on this again. "I find it unnecessary seeing that I am simply someone you have hired to track this human."
Silence. Something is off. The King raises an eyebrow at me, not looking mad or annoyed, but shocked, a questioning look crossing his face as he tilts his head to the side. Getting to his feet, the King clasps his hands behind his back, looking down to me as he can't seem to understand something. "You studied under this man, correct?" he asks as I nod for my reply. "Did he teach you the ways of his people? Anything else about some Pressendent that ruled his land?"
"President," I correct, wondering how he know about the title of President. Did my father try and teach Kyril about the human realm? "He said that his ruler was elected by the people. He said that the President once came to him to see magic." I need to seem like I have a small idea about the government of my country. "Why does this concern you?" I ask, rising to my feet as the King bites his lip, heading for the books he brought with him.
The King seems to be onto something. I have no idea if I should be worried for my cover here as a werewolf. "You see, Heka, when he came to the palace for the first time, he told my father of a realm that he came from, saying that it was one beyond our own realm's years. He told us about these carriages that used no horses, about ships that sailed in the sky, and of his race. He said that they called what he did magic because they had no other word for it. Spells, potions, and powers were fictional in his world. My father allowed Heka to teach me things of his world, and being just a child then, I was obsessed with the way he realm worked, wanting to go there one day, but he told me that his realm was filled with monsters of the darkness." My father said that? Monsters of the darkness? I find that hard to believe seeing that the supernatural are just some strange belief that people have back home, but then again, my reality has been flipped upside down ever since I discovered another realm outside my own. "What did he tell you of his home?"
This is where I choose my words wisely, where I decide where there is too much information and where there is too little. "It was so longer ago that I met him," I begin, trying to make him understand that I would not know too much because it was supposedly years ago that Heka came to my village and killed my made-up mother. "He talked of many things, of states that were many feet high and buildings that seemed to reach the clouds. He described his home as something beyond what the gods could create, of lakes made by man, of a source of light that never seemed to run out, and of boxes that showed stories."
The King nods, grabbing more of the drink as he offers me some more as well. Nodding my head, he pours me another glass of the unknown substance, telling me that his father was in awe of Heka, that his father thought of Heka as some demigod. To think my father was seen as this to the man he would later slay. "My father trusted that monster...in the end his trust landed him with three arrows in his chest and my mother went insane. I was just a child then, a child who saw his teacher slaughter his father and drive his mother insane until her long anticipated death. Mother was kept an eye on every second, my father's elders afraid of her taking her own life." Is my father the bad guy? "She was on her death bed when she took my hand and told me she wished Heka had struck her down, so she would not wake up every day without her soulmate by her side. She said Heka made life become a bitter taste in her mouth that you just want to spit out."
I cannot let his testimony destroy what I have always thought of my father to be, but, I have only known my father from few memories, what my mother would say of him, and what the media would portray him as. In my memories, he loved me and would give me the world if I asked, to my mother, he was the man she fell head over heels for and gave her a life worth living, and for the media, my father was a man who was always mysterious, his private life unknown, but he know how to make women swoon and elites appraise him. But hearing this, hearing how my father supposedly destroyed this King's family and life, it is like I did not know my father at all.
"That man was born with a silver tongue," Kyril adds to the silent, taking a swing at his drink as I stare at my own, as if having lost my urge for the alcohol. "Who knows how many other lives he has ruined with his toxic presence. He has ruined both of ours."
"Yes, he has," I mumble, deciding to chug the rest of my drink as I recall all the nights I watched my mother sit in my father's side of their closet, holding onto old shirts of his, trying to see if they still held the scent of him. I recall nights where I would walk past her door, hearing her cries in the dark as she called out his name. Some nights were filled with her sorrow as she could only sob...other nights were fueled by fire. I remember walking into the house on the day they would have celebrated their twenties wedding anniversary, my mother screaming profundities of my father as she threw old magazines with his face pastured over them into the lit fireplace. She hurled some of his works into the fire, works from some water cage, all his notes consumed in the flames. Her wedding dress even became part of the ash.
"He ruined my mother," I whisper, finding my eyes watering as I just want to forget the night my mother took a gun to her head and told me she wanted to do it so badly, that she was a coward because she could never pull the trigger. I had told her she had me in her life to live for... but she just smiled and shook her head. "My mother was a hardworking and sweet before Heka took her from me." I take in a shaky breath as the King takes a seat at the foot of his bed. "She fell for him, and in the end, he ripped her heart out and I just sat and watched like a fool." It is true, what happened, but my words are not literal. "He was like a father to me and now he is just a man whose demons are out to play."
A hand lands on my shoulder, gently rubbing it as I lean into the odd warmth and sparks, closing my eyes as I try and keep the tears in. Taking in a deep breath, I open my eyes and rise to my feet, setting the glass upon one of the small tables. "Thank you for the drink and the conversation, my King, but it is time I called it a night," I inform, bowing my head as the King shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"I have never told anyone about my mother, Candice, about her final words to me." My eyes meet his watery eyes, the once vibrant colors now dull as they do not even swirl. "About how she wanted to die with my father years ago. Heka destroyed the family I loved, and I will bring him to justice."
With his words, I leave.
Morning could not arrive sooner as I wake up to find the camp bursting with noise as the sun rises. Rolling onto my back, the cot beneath me is stiff, a small headache occurring as I recall the night before. After Kyril told me he would bring my father to justice, I came back and stared at the ceiling, recalling every memory I could about the man that raised me. About the man that took from my mother that happiness she had always deserved. About the man who took from me a childhood worth remembering as the memories that should be happy only leave a sour taste in my mouth and I want to call him a greedy bastard that only cared about what his magic could achieve rather than his own damn family. What was his plan in the end when this is all said and done? Does my father even have a goal here that once it is obtained, he would come home, because it has taken him many years. You would think he would have come back home into the arms of the woman who loves him and the daughter he never got to raise. Did he ever want to go back home? Mother knew what he was doing, that he was going into some place she had no idea what it was, but did she know what he would be doing here? The journal holds so much of what I must ask. The journal that I will hopefully be able to find today. I learned just this morning that it will be a mile hike to the temple, the horses cannot handle the steep and narrow pathway to the Temple.
Grabbing my clothes for the day, I change quick, trying to ignore the headache that is currently making me want to bang my head against someone's metal armor. Already for the day, I take in a deep breath, throwing my cloak over my shoulders as I exit my tent and welcome in the pale morning sky. It's colder today, the mountains having no mercy for the souls passing through them. Snow covers the ground as my boots sink into it, my fingers numb as Duke Gravon comes up to me, offering me a friendly smile as he does so. "My dear Lady Candice, are you ready for the adventure ahead?"
Looking to the path we will hike towards the Temple, I think of the cold weather ahead, of the possible things that the journal could hold. "I do hope so," I reply, looking over the Duke's shoulder to see King Kyril exiting his tent, shouting orders to a few of his trackers, telling them to be ready to leave within the next ten minutes.
"You carry no weapon on you, my Lady, do you not expect an attack?"
"An attack? From whom?" I ask, raising an eyebrow as the Duke causes worry to fuel my headache. When I arrived here, Soka was the one to greet me and no one else. I never saw any signs of threat except for the storm she was worried about. Is there a possibility of an attack?
Holding out a small object wrapped in leather, the Duke smiles to me, telling me he hopes we find a trace of the prey, and he walks off, leaving me with his small gift. I unwrap the object, the hold handles of a dagger falling into my hand as the blade runs sharp and thin, ready to sink into the flesh of any threat. It is a beautiful dagger, the weapon light, the handle carved with many engravings of some type of Hieroglyphics. This is weird. I have been able to read every form of language present in Iduna and yet this writing system I cannot read. My palms become sweaty as I worry that I may have overestimated how well I have been naturally able to read this realm's language. Is it from Iduna? It looks incredibly similar to Egyptian Hieroglyphics, but it cannot be. These people know nothing of my world, and if they do, only what my father has told them. My father's stage name is the Egyptian word for magic, but I highly doubt it that he brought a dagger with him and Duke Gravon got hold of it. But that is the only reasonable way I can think of me not being able to read the language.
"Candice, how did you sleep?" a familiar voice asks, causing me to jump as it tugs me away from my thoughts. Turning around, I greet the familiar pair of eyes that are always changing, the events from last night replaying in my head as he opened to me, and in return, I did as well, realizing the toxicity that my father placed in my life when he drew himself from it.
I lie. "Very well." Looking back to the passage through the mountains that we will be taking, my toes already numb as I worry that I will get frostbite. "But cold," I add, looking back to the King to find him staring at the dagger from Duke Gravon.
n"Do you plan on just holding that or putting it somewhere?" He asks, referring to the weapon as I open my cloak, looking at the inside lining to where I found a small pocket the other day. Wrapping it back up in the leather casing, I slide it into the small pouch of my cloak, looking back to the King as he simply holds out his gloved hand, a small glass bottle in his palm filled with a small silver substance. "A small potion to get rid of the cold. I know because you can't shift yet that you have no wolf to help warm you up." I nod, thanking the King as I take the small bottle, barely the size of my pinkie finger as I down the sweet-tasting liquid. Instantly I feel warmer, my toes regaining their sense of touch as I see the warriors and trackers are ready to head out, all loaded up for the small hike.
"Let us go."
Within the first five minutes of the hike, the camp has faded away in the mist of the mountains, snow still falling as we march through a small cavern where icy rocks line the walls. All warmed up from the King's potion, I find the cloak I wear unnecessary, wanting to throw it into the snow and leave it, but Duke Gravon's words haunt me, the topic of an attack. I keep on my cloak, the dagger tucked away inside as I feel reassurance having it. Do I expect someone here to attack me? No, I do not, but I fret that something else may. Perhaps an animal or some savage. I am surrounded by men heavily armed though, so why do I insist on having something to protect myself? It gives me a feeling I safety to know that I have a way to defend myself if things go wrong and if no one else can. The trail through the mountains is narrow, the fear of rocks dropping down on us making me only more uneasy. But I know we will soon be out of the danger of the mountains and seeing the Temple where so many of my questions can be answered.
"Lady Candice," King Kyril calls out, my eyes shifting from the high rocks above to the King. He walks in front of me, one of his trackers beside him as they have been talking for the past ten minutes about the Temple's architecture. "How well can you read Old Age Idunian?"
If I have been able to read Idunian already and can speak it very well, I should be able to. It all sounds and reads like English to me. "I trust that I can read it well," I reply, looking to the tracker beside the King who raises an eyebrow. He doubts me, meaning that this language must be very ancient. There is doubt and I am not sure if that is something I should accept as a challenge or know my limits of overestimating myself.
"Some like to think the Temple has a mind of its own," a voice comments from behind me, the familiar voice of Duke Gravon. "Stories have it that the Temple favors certain species more than others and if you're on its good side, then what you seek in those walls, you will find." The Temple never struck me as some magical place with a mind of its own, it only made an impact on me as a place where I landed in this realm.
"Why do they say that?" I ask, looking back to the Duke to see him opening an old journal.
"Elves are hated by the Temple. If an elf ventures in, then the elf will come out as if it's soul has been taken from its body. Vampires would often go missing in those walls, and when werewolves were sent in to find them, they could never even find a trace of them. Dragons love Temples built by the gods, but no dragon would dare fly close to this one."
"The Temple was built by a goddess five ages ago, a goddess who believed in different worlds beyond our own they could be reached if we wanted to," the tracker beside the King adds. "But it is a Temple forgotten by many, only remembered by old scholars and those who love a good puzzle."
"So, you think Heka has left clues in there?" I ask, looking beyond the path to see a small exit where trees stretch on for miles. "A trace of himself?"
The tracker nods. "The last activity in the Temple like this was reported when that thing first arrived in Iduna." The Temple's activity is of someone entering this realm. I was the person to cause the last activity, but no one needs to know this. "How do we know there could be a trace of him?"
The King stops, causing a whole chain reaction of his men stopping as well, everyone silent as they look to their King for his words. Turning around, his eyes lock with mine, his eyes swirling with dark shades of blue and green.
"That is what you are here for, correct, Lady Candice?" He asks, putting me on the spot as he seems cold to me suddenly.
I hold my head high. "Correct."