Bound by Roses (The Bound Series Book 1) (6 page)

Wolves were responsible. Wolves grew in strength and number.

The Clans broken by Lord Red were reuniting.

Rumors and stories spread as wildfire does, quickly and without end. All the Market District talked of Wolves, by the time stalls opened. Even the servants of the palace spoke of Wolves, and what was by that point, diluted stories of bravery and heroism, and tertiary accounts so diluted from the source that it was more epic then truth.

Marguerite had slept restlessly and was awake before dawn. She stared out the windows of her quarters, which she was thankful did not face the burning sky, but it did not matter. For by late evening, she had to close the blinds fully to escape the glow the wrapped around the palace like fingers. She heard the horn upon the Captain’s return. And it was not long past daybreak that Kaniz appeared in the chambers. She carried with her several bright white linens, and copper jug that sloshed loudly in the quiet morning hours.

“Lady White, awake and dressed before Morning Bell?” The handmaiden stopped within the doorway, taken aback by Marguerite’s ready appearance. Copper jug almost fell from her hands.

“I slept poorly last evening,” Marguerite did not look at her handmaiden, “I have saved you the trouble this morning.” She leaned heavily upon the windowsill. The Winds blew steadily towards the sea and with it Marguerite could still make out the billowing black smoke from Zhan’ding.

“It is my duty, not a trouble, to attempt to rouse you,” Kaniz joined Marguerite near the window, “Just as it is my duty to inform you that Captain Iritis has returned, my lady.”

“Thank you, Kaniz. Send him and the Ministers to the Meeting Chamber. I will be there after Morning Bell,” Marguerite smiled. Without another word her handmaiden rushed out with barely a bow.

Four.

Captain Iritis waited before an immense circular grey stone table. It was divided into sixteen sections. Each section’s edge had carved deep within a depiction of the sixteen Gods that Ashok Orai worshiped throughout the Ages. A thin layer of sparkling liquid upon its surface rippled gently. A morning breeze blew in from windows high above the rounded room. Iritis was not alone; eight older gentlemen surrounded the table with him. All were clad in billowing, rose robes. Each man bore an ivory sash, upon which a white rose was embroidered. The rose was open and an eight-pointed sun rested in the middle. This was the ancient and mighty symbol of the House of White.

How the men wore their sashes dictated their rank and seniority over one another. The Captain did not care about their seniority. To him, they were all grey-haired semi-elected officials that looked all the same to him. How long they actually served for was beyond him, as he is pretty sure once they were elected, they were on the Minister’s Council for life. Even passing it along to their children if they deemed fit. They even sounded they same as they chatted away, waiting for Lady White to arrive. Iritis was pretty sure that some of the Minister’s are fourth, if not fifth or more to hold the position in their family. He scoffed and rolled his eyes at their apparent legacy. And each Minister eyed the young Captain with a contempt he did not understand. He pretended it was due to what he was sure the Ministers would call, a gross familiarity with Lady White; something both merely called a friendship. He chuckled, and continued to pace back and forth before the stone table. Iritis knew that the Minister’s were the source of many rumors that circulated amongst the city. He didn’t care. Captain Iritis’s hands touched the soft aged stone of the table.

Before it, a great wooden chair stood. It was carved with intricate figures depicting those animals that protected the House of White, most prominently was the immense stag and his massive antlers, which encompassed many of the other smaller creatures. Iritis loved staring at that chair. It gave him hope.

The men all chattered amongst themselves. Most took to gossiping about the burning night sky. The Captain paced back and forth almost impatiently, but with a heavy anticipation, across from the empty wooden chair. His armor clanked. Sword banged upon his hip.

A door opened above with a loud groan. All fell into a silent whisper, but none stopped chatting away. Nearly all eyes gazed upwards.

“I am sorry to have kept you waiting,” Marguerite descended the spiral staircase that encircled the room, towards all those waiting. Bronze dress fluttered behind her as she wandered down. Three nearly transparent, but glittering straps clung to each shoulder. They overlapped one another, just as the sashes upon the Minister’s overlapped. A silver circlet with chips of three precious stones, blue, red, and green, rested upon her ebony hair. Rolling around her chest on a golden chain, a blood red jewel that was clasped by a golden talon shaped like a Raven’s claw. The glistening jewel was bright against her pale skin.

Marguerite took a seat within the empty chair. Resting her fingers over the edge of the chair, she bore, for all to see, the enormous golden ring of her father. Etched upon an ebony stone, then painted over with silver, was the House of White crest. Each Minister bowed their heads slightly to Marguerite. None said a word or salutation of greetings.

“I am glad all were able to attend this meeting,” Marguerite began.

“You act as though we had a choice?” Minister Andara chirped.

Marguerite leaned upon her arm, “Everyone has a choice, Minister Andara. I am just happy you made the correct one.”

“We have heard many rumors circulating this morning, Lady White,” Minister Andara chattered with a smirk, “matters need to be discussed.”

“I agree!” Marguerite smiled wide, “We have no reason to dawdle.”

All the Ministers talked at once. Just as the merchants that entered for daily trading at market, the Minister’s too talked of Wolves. All fell silent when Marguerite’s hand flew into the air.

“Please, Ministers. First things first, Captain Iritis.”

The Captain removed a dull lime-green crystal shard from his chest armor. The crystal sparkled and shimmered in the torchlight as Iritis held it between two fingers.

“A memory crystal?” Minister Olan gaffed at the sight, “Point of order, Lady White. They are not reliable for, much.”

“Yet they are more reliable than eyes alone, Minister,” Marguerite stated, hands folded before her lap delicately. Minister Olan shuffled back in line with three others. Each snickered and murmured to oneself.

“What of Zhan’ding?” Marguerite ignored the Ministers as she gazed deeply into the young Captain.

Iritis repositioned the crystal with a faint click into an indentation on the top of the table’s rim. The torches that lit the room, dimmed to mere embers glow. The tables shimmering light intensified, and the once clear surface now showed what was left of the dying city. One or two Ministers gasped. Fires raged. Thick black smoke overtook the sky. All that Iritis had seen while in Zhan’ding they now saw within the table’s water.

“The city is in shambles, Lady White,” Captain Iritis started. All eyes fixated on the burned buildings, dead soldiers, and rivers of blood that ran through the streets.

“Is that your professional opinion or analysis?” Minister Vani asked rather harshly, his own eyes never left the table as he did. Heavy and plump frame leaned upon the sturdy stone table. Iritis felt the man could have easily tipped it over, had the table been made of wood.

“They were taken completely by surprise,” Iritis leaned upon the table and stared directly at Minister Vani, “and that one, is my
personal
analysis, Minister.”

“Our fears?” Marguerite leaned forward heavily in her chair. Hands gripped the edges tight. Ring dug deep into the wood.

Captain Iritis nodded and paused before speaking. He inhaled, and dreaded to say the word that all thought, “Wolves.”

The Captain’s words barely had time to escape his mouth, before the Ministers demanded individual attention. Every Minister tried to speak louder than the one next to him, each to be over heard.

Marguerite leaned into her hand heavily, “Ministers! I cannot understand you, if you talk at once! Let the Captain finish please,” they fell reluctantly silent, “Thank you.”

Attention was turned to the shimmering pool of water. Soldiers of both great cities piled the dead husks of Wolves high before setting them ablaze. Blood splashed boots and armor. Fires already underway burned others. Blood, turned brown and crusted, splattered about. But yet in certain areas it still pooled like stale water. Children cried next to loved ones. Loved ones with throats ripped open. Limbs torn. Flesh gorged upon. Not all the dead were Zhan’ding soldiers. Citizens were brought from homes, or laid already in the streets.

“What of Rose Red?” Marguerite wondered ready to cry. Iritis shot a single finger into the air, though she did not have long to wait.

The Captain’s recording soon came across the courtyard. Two Ashok Orai soldiers were in the process of removing Saledii’s broken, blood covered body from Gozan’s arms. Bones broke through pale skin. Dried blood crusted down her arms spiraled around like rose vines. Covering a gasp with both hands, a tear ran down Marguerite’s face, as her eyes closed. She bit her upper lip so tight, she could taste the blood sting her tongue.

“Lady White’s innocent eyes have seen enough!”  Minster Tanba pounded the stone table with a thick fist. He disturbed the images played slightly. They wobbled and danced with the waves of the pool. He pounded again with the hope to dislodge the crystal.

Iritis waved a hand over the crystal. The images upon the rippling waves froze in their place. The crystal itself turned bright blue. “I apologize to Lady White’s innocent eyes.”

“As you should!” Minister Sliven screamed, “You foolish boy!”

“A warning is in order should something so graphic appear a second time!” Minister Emon bellowed. The other Minister’s agreed with grumbled voices. Iritis rolled his eyes.

“I am all right, Ministers,” Marguerite sniffled back tears. A deep breath, and she cleared her eyes of the mist that formed.

“Lady White will want to see what is next, Ministers,” Captain Iritis said. Marguerite nodded. Iritis waved his hand over the crystal again. Its blue color disappeared. The images unfroze and began to move again.

Her eyes locked upon the pool. It showed what was of such interest to her and all concerned. The Captain stood before a wounded grey Wolf. The beast huffed heavily, most of his bleeding had stopped hours ago, but his fur glistened still.  Specks began to harden and grow dirty.

“Who has done this? What Clan do you belong?”
Captain Iritis’ voice rang like a bell chime. The pools surface vibrated with his voice. Each vibration produced waves of a bright aqua. They stopped at the table’s edge. No wave made a sound.

“None… and… all…”

The Wolf tried to laugh, but only coughed up blood. Blood that splattered across the chard grey stone before it. The creature wheezed in and out terribly,

“I serve… The true Queen… The
only
Queen,”

The Wolves breaths grew heavier, deeper, and harder to take. With each breath, more blood poured from his snout and lips, coughs longer than the previous. His voice garbled as lungs filled with blood.

“Our Queen has returned. She has begun… reuniting—the Vucari shall rise!”
The Grey Wolf continued to laugh and cough until the last breath of life was exhaled from his lungs. Body convulsed horribly. Neck strained outwards. The creature’s body fell limp to the ground. Iritis nodded his head to the closest soldier who took a torch to the beast.

Iritis removed the crystal from the stone table. The image of the burning Wolf faded from the waters surface like sand in the wind. The pool returned to its dull, lightless color, surface smooth as a mirror. The fires returned light to the darkened room. The Ministers stood speechless. They too had their eyes locked upon the pool. Marguerite’s eyes were locked upon the Captain as he placed the lime green crystal back into his armor. She was thinking, comprehending. Lost in thought until Minister Sliven slammed his fist onto the thick edge of the table. The water did not move as it had done before,

“Wolf Queen? That’s impossible!”

“Nothing is impossible Minister,” Marguerite responded, hand upon her chin as she thought and registered all that she had seen.

“All the work Lord White did to eradicate the Wolf vermin and now this,” Minister Emon dressed down in deeper lilac robes than the others, with ivory sash wrapped around his equally plump frame, which hung off his left shoulder three times, declared loudly.

“All in vain!” Another Minister screamed immediately after the last. Marguerite could not tell whom, nor did she care to know. She breathed deeply to calm her racing mind.

“Ministers, please!” Marguerite placed her hands upon the tables rim and leaned close to the Ministers.

“We are fortunate Lord White is unable to see the current state of affairs,” Minister Emon held his head low and tisked with his teeth three times, “though we can not blame ourselves, Ministers.”

Minister Emon shook his head, but his beady eyes stared directly into Marguerite. She watched many of the others shake their heads in agreement. Her lip twitched, but she merely smiled as she leaned forward,