Empress Aurora Trilogy Quest For the Kingdom Parts I, II, and III Revised With Index (Quest For the Kingdom Set) (44 page)

“Fountain of
Youth?” Gunnar puzzled over the phrase.

He was
thoughtful.

“Yes, I see,”
he said slowly. “Water that restores youth.”

“Exactly,”
Marcus said. “But why have you told us the secret? Are you not in danger
yourself simply by telling us what you have?”

Gunnar nodded
emphatically.

“Yes, I would
be if anyone knew. But you shall not tell, so I am safe.”

“Gunnar, why
are people executed simply for trespassing? One cannot help losing one’s way,
or passing through a country that is simply on one’s route. Why die because of
it?” Marcus asked.

“Why, it’s
because they hold this land to be sacred to Jytte, their Mother goddess. She it
is who provides the healing spring. And this is her holy ground. That is what
they believe, and they will do all within their power to protect the secret,”
Gunnar said with finality.

“‘They?’”
Felix raised an inquisitive eyebrow at Gunnar. “Why do you say ‘they‘? Are you
not a citizen of this country?”

“Oh, yes,
assuredly I am,” Gunnar nodded. “But I do not believe as they do. I serve only
the one true God, not this false goddess Jytte.”

Marcus blinked
his eyes, but kept calm.

“The one true
God?” he repeated. “And Whom do you hold to be the one true God?”

Gunnar came
closer still, and lowered his voice even further. Then he whispered:

“All may seek,
and all may buy, the great Pearl of price so rare, but it costs all you
possess, so let the buyer beware!”

Gunnar looked
at them, suddenly wary, as if waiting for their response.

Gasps of joy
escaped the lips of his listeners, and smiles lit all their faces with
gladness.

“You serve
Dominio! Why, so do we!” Felix exclaimed. “That makes you our brother!”

And he clasped
Gunnar on the shoulder. Gunnar clasped Felix’s as well.

“That is
good!” he cried out. “For I feared I must lead all of you to the one True Way
before you are executed, but now it will not be necessary.”

The smiles
were instantly erased from their faces as if by an unseen hand, for Gunnar’s
words reminded them of the dilemma yet to be solved.

He saw their
altered faces, and tried to make amends.

“That was
clumsy of me,” he blushed. “There is so little time and I wanted to be sure you
are prepared for eternity, was what I intended.”

He beamed his
apology, but no one smiled in return.

“I am certain
all will be well,” Gunnar soothed, after an awkward silence. “If there is one
thing I have learned, it is that Dominio works all things out for our good, and
for His glory.”

They slept
fitfully that night. The intense cold made sleep difficult, as did the
heaviness of their hearts. Cort cried out in his sleep, troubled by some
nightmare. Kyrene lay with eyes wide open, silently praying. And Marcus could
not sleep for pondering on the word Logos had given them…

When the
morning came it was Halvor, not Gunnar who opened the door to bring food and
water. He appeared pleased at the sight of their heavy eyes and pale faces.
Marcus wondered why the sight of their distress gave him such satisfaction.

“When you are
finished eating I am to take you to the Thene,” Halvor remarked as a grin split
his face. “You may want to savor your meal. It may be your last.”

A stifled sob
escaped Elena and Halvor turned to her.

“Not to worry,
my lady,” he jeered as he gave her a mocking bow. “Death will come quickly, I
assure you of that.”

Elena’s fear
turned to fury and she threw her mug of water at him, hitting him square on the
forehead. Halvor snarled at her and would have struck her had not Dag caught
his arm and wrenched it behind his back. Halvor screamed in pain, and Dag
released him, throwing him against the door.

Halvor rose to
his feet, and rubbing his injured arm he glared with venom at Dag and Elena. He
started to leap at Dag, then looked at the great man’s height and heavier build
and reconsidered.

“For that you
may die a slower death than is usually granted. I shall see to that!” he
shouted as he flung himself from the chamber.

Elena broke
down, and Marcus put a comforting arm about her. Kyrene stroked her arm and
whispered soothingly in her ear.

“Let us pray,”
Marcus said.

They drew into
a circle and sought comfort before facing the Thene.

The summons
came, as they had been warned it would. Halvor returned, and with many backward
smirking glances, led them to the chamber where the Thene sat waiting for them,
surrounded by his followers. Marcus searched his eyes for any sign of his
decision. The utter gravity of his face, the curtains of remoteness that seemed
to shutter his eyes said it all, even before the Thene spoke.

“Death,” he
pronounced. Then he relented, with a look of compassion. “I am sorry, but it
must be so.”

“But why, may
I ask?” Marcus demanded. “It is against all the laws of hospitality, indeed, of
human decency, to execute someone merely for traveling innocently through a
country! If this be your law, then why not build a barrier around your borders,
to bar passage to the unwary, and save the lives of the innocent!”

The Thene
looked gravely at Marcus, one long slender finger stroking his chin. Marcus
stood his ground, holding himself defiantly erect, every inch the son of
Valerius Maximus, head of the Imperial Army.

Arvid shook
his head ruefully, then answered Marcus’ question.

“Young man, I
admire courage, and therefore regret what must be done,” he said in a voice
that resonated through the chamber. “However, I have a sacred trust to uphold.
It was given me by my father, and to him by his father, and so on back to our
first father who came to this land many lives of men ago.

“The first man
to enter Jytte’s Land came seeking new territory, a place where his people
could expand, for they had grown too numerous in their native country, and many
were the quarrels over borders and possession, and there was not enough pasture
to feed their flocks. He came with his family, and soon sent for others to join
them. In time a thriving community was founded, and all lived in harmony in
their land of plenty.   

“And then one
day, the true treasure of Jytte’s Land was revealed and made known to him, and
he knew that he was entrusted to guard this land and keep its sanctity. And
thus it has been handed down from generation to generation. We may not permit
any to leave who have walked through this land, lest they betray our secret.”

“But we have
not seen anything that would appear secret,” Marcus argued, careful not to
betray the confidence of Gunnar.

“You may
unwittingly say something that would betray it to someone more knowledgeable
than you,” Arvid said. “And the curious would invade our country, and defile
Jytte’s holy ground.”

“Who is this
Jytte?” Marcus demanded to know. “And why is this ground sacred to her? I
insist you tell me, if we are to lose our lives because of her.”

Arvid
considered a moment as he looked steadily at Marcus; then nodded his head
slowly.

“Fair enough,”
he said. “Jytte is the greatest of the Old Ones, the ones who were here before
man. It is said that she birthed
all
of the Old Ones, and they crowned
her their Queen. She gives life to all that breathe, and she is our Mother. It
is our sacred duty to protect her land from defilement and keep it pure.”

Marcus snorted
and tossed back his head.

“A Mother, you
say?” he challenged, not even attempting to keep the disgust he felt out of his
voice. “Well, it is a strange mother indeed who would order her children to
kill her other children out of fear that they may pollute her land, when in
truth they have done nothing of the kind. If they had torn down her temple, or
destroyed her image, that would perhaps be a punishable matter. But merely for
taking a walk through her country? Why, Thene, I held you to be a man of sense,
not superstition!”

There was a
collective gasp from those gathered about the Thene. A chuckle escaped Felix
before he could stifle it. Arvid himself stared at Marcus with blinking eyes
and an open mouth. For a moment he said nothing. At last he collected himself
and spoke.

“Of a truth,
you are a bold young man!” he exclaimed. “I would that you were a warrior of
mine! Truly you are your father’s son, and I have heard he is a great man
indeed.”

Marcus felt a
surge of pride course through him; then firmly quenched it. It was the Spirit
of Dominio who gave him courage; it was not from himself. He must remember
that.

Arvid nodded
his head again, gazing at Marcus with eyes shining in admiration.

“There is
another option I may offer you,” he said to Marcus. “You may not leave this
land alive, but you may remain here, at the pleasure of the Thene. It has been
done a few times, but not often. If you wish, you and your companions may
remain, for I do admire your spirit.”

Marcus turned
to face his companions, for this was not his decision alone to make. He must
continue his journey in order to fulfill the task assigned to him; but the
others might wish to remain just to live. He studied their faces.

Cort glanced
up hopefully at Dag, whose stoic face remained impassive. Kyrene shook her head
no; Elena watched the faces of the others, but made no comment. Felix, however,
looked at Marcus, then at the Thene and jerked his head in the direction of the
outdoors. Marcus could not at first fathom what Felix was trying to convey, but
realized his friend had a plan. Marcus nodded at him.

Felix stepped
forward and approached the Thene.

“May I address
a question to you, most excellent Thene?” Felix asked with a low bow to Arvid.

Arvid raised
an eyebrow but said nothing. He nodded permission for Felix to speak.

“My question
is this: if our choice is to remain in this land or die, I think it only fair
for my companions and myself to know what this mysterious secret may be. It
would seem that our true choice is to live but to serve this Jytte of whom you
speak, or to die without ever knowing whether she was truly worthy of our
worship, or just someone whom you serve blindly, without any evidence that she,
in fact, actually exists.”

A murmur broke
out in the chamber at the audacity of these words. The murmur rose to a steady
hum, then a clamor. No voices were louder than those of Halvor and Ylva, whom
Marcus was displeased to see, had joined the spectators in the chamber.

From her
throat rose a rallying cry.

“He insults
Jytte, our great Mother!” she shrieked. “For that the penalty is death. Kill
him! Kill them all!”

The voices
rose to a crescendo, and the spectators rose as one from their seats. But the
Thene was on his feet.

“Silence!” he
bellowed, with an upraised hand.

The commotion
died at once. Ylva’s face was contorted in ugly rage at Felix, who shot her a
look of scorn. The Thene paused a moment or so; then addressed Felix.

“A fair
question, a fair question, indeed,” Arvid pronounced. “I perceive you are a
young man of intelligence. You do not follow the gods blindly, but must be
certain of what you worship. I honor that kind of reasoning, for surely once
you are convinced you will be steadfast in your devotion. So, I have a proposal
to make.”

The ears of
everyone in the chamber picked up when the Thene made this announcement. Why
Felix was not dead already astounded all who were present.

The Thene
continued.

“Allow me to
prove to you that Jytte is real, she does exist, and is worthy of your
worship,” Arvid said. “Then perhaps you will choose to make your home in this
land and serve her all your days. But if you do not so choose, you will surely
die.”

Felix did not
hesitate for a moment, but sought to take advantage of the Thene’s unexpected
leniency.

“That is fair,
most excellent Thene,” he bowed. “I am eager to see your evidence. For surely
when a man’s life hangs in the balance he is anxious to have it resolved with
all speed.”

Arvid chuckled
his appreciation.

“I do like
your spirit,” he muttered. “Oh yes, I
do
like your spirit.”

He rose from
his seat and ordered everyone to prepare to go outdoors. All hastened to don
their furs and cloaks, and they descended the staircases to the lower hall. In
the hall they assembled themselves, and streamed out the rear doors in an
orderly procession.

Two guards
strode before Arvid, then two more before Arvid’s council members, to be
followed by two more guards. Halvor strode ahead of Marcus and the others, with
guards on each side of them and one following behind. After that came the
spectators, led by Ylva, who followed eagerly, yet with anger permeating from
every fiber of her being.

Outside the
sun shone brightly, illuminating the glittering snow-covered landscape. Their
feet disturbed a fresh dusting of snow that had fallen in the night, sending a
white powder upward. Here and there the ice-covered pools shone with renewed
luster under a sky of pale blue.

All in all,
thought Marcus, it was surely a day too lovely in which to die. He breathed a
silent prayer, and hoped whatever plan Felix had would work. He glanced at his
friends and knew by Kyrene’s fixed stare ahead that she also was praying. Dag
smiled tenderly at Cort, who returned it through tear-filled eyes. Elena’s eyes
darted here and there as though looking for an escape route. But Felix whistled
cheerfully as if he had not a care in the world.

The procession
stopped at the Thene’s order in front of one of the skrells. Some tall pines
that surrounded it offered some protection from the occasional breeze that
penetrated their furs and cloaks. Then Arvid directed them to follow a stream
from which the skrell erupted. This led into a little grove of ice-bound trees
and snowy pines that sheltered them completely. Here no wind stirred, and it
was as hushed as a temple of worship. The stream flowed over pristine rocks and
a steam rose from it.

“You wished
for evidence that our great Jytte exists, and evidence you shall have. Berit,
come forth and prepare the sacred rites.”

An old woman
came out of the crowd. She was surprisingly erect for one of her years, which
must be about seventy winters Marcus reckoned. Her gentle face was crowned by a
mane of silver hair which fell in a single plait down her back. Her eyes were
clear, undimmed by age. She walked with the grace of a much younger woman to the
side of the stream.

Arvid
addressed an elderly man in the group of spectators.

“Torger, son
of Torster, come forth.”

The old man
hobbled forward, clutching the arm of a youth who might have been his grandson,
judging by his solicitous care of the older man. Torger and the youth walked to
where Berit waited at the side of the stream, the youth slowing his steps to
the unsteady gait of the old man. He looked questioningly at Arvid.

Arvid nodded
at him.

Torger removed
first his warm furs, then his woolen robes, leaving only an undergarment to
cover his lower body from the hips to mid thigh. His body was gnarled with age;
his joints at knee and elbow were knobby and red, his hands swollen, the
fingers so twisted that Marcus wondered how he could possibly have any use of
them.

Torger
shivered in the cold. Berit then beckoned him. She removed her own cape of fur,
revealing long robes that covered her from neck to ankle. She removed the
fur-lined shoes that covered her feet, and strode into the stream, hoisting her
robe to above her knees. Her knees bore no sign of age, but were as smooth as
those of a young maiden.

Torger
followed her into the stream, assisted by the youth. He faced Berit, who looked
into his face and solemnly addressed him.

“Torger, son
of Torster, do you worship the great goddess Jytte? Do you love and honor her?”

“Yes, I do,”
Torger croaked in a voice made feeble by his years.

“Then receive
the healing that Jytte alone may bestow!”

With these
words the youth dipped Torger into the stream and held him under its flowing
waters for what seemed a very long moment. Marcus held his breath, expecting
the old man to either drown or be scalded by the steamy water. Suddenly, Torger
rose from the stream, sending rivulets of water cascading from his body. He was
not scalded, nor even short of breath. He let out a shout, and everyone there
saw this hands were open, the fingers no longer twisted; his knees were
straightened, the knobbiness visibly reduced. Torger gave a leap that sent the
stream splashing upward, drenching those who stood nearby.

Berit smiled
and lifted her face upward, her hands raised with palms outward in veneration.
Arvid and the onlookers cried out in triumph and broke into loud shouts of
praise.

During the
moment of celebration, Felix moved closer to Marcus and whispered in his ear.

“Remember the
word of Logos!”

Marcus looked
a question at him, but Felix merely grinned and did not reply.

Arvid calmly waited
for the shouts of excitement from the bystanders to cease, then commanded Felix
to come forward.

“Well, young
man, what further evidence do you require? Surely you have witnessed a miracle
of healing, done by the hand of Jytte herself, whose spring this is, and which
we guard as her sacred dwelling.”

Felix appeared
unaffected by this triumph of Jytte, and calmly returned the gaze of Arvid with
an unblinking eye and a solemn countenance.

“It is a
seeming miracle, to be sure,” he admitted. “However, we have waters in my own
land that also bring soothing to the complaints of old age. Indeed, we pipe
them into our city bath houses, that all may enjoy their beneficial cures.”

A cry of
protest arose from the onlookers. Felix faced them and smiled into their midst.

“May I put it
to the test, most excellent Thene?” he asked. “It would be simple to prove that
these waters and those in my country are one and the same.”

Arvid glanced
nervously at the angry crowd, then warily at Felix.

“Very well,
one test!” he warned. “Then you must choose. Be wise in your choice, for you
will not get another chance!”

This show of
strength mollified the crowd, who would not suffer any insult to their Mother
goddess. Felix spun around to them and turned on his most engaging smile.

“Please, good
friends,” he exhorted, “I intend no insult. But when a man’s life is at stake
surely he can be indulged for what may seem like folly to those who surely know
better than he.”

The mood
shifted from outrage to bewilderment as the crowd puzzled over the meaning of
Felix’s words. Marcus smothered a grin of amusement. Only Felix, he mused,
could talk his way out of an assassination by an angry mob!

Felix
continued.

“If I may have
the loan of a receptacle of some kind, I should like to test whether these
waters are the same as those in my own land. Has any one a small vial or bottle
of some sort?” he enquired in a silky voice.

No one had
such a receptacle, but a young girl, whose name was Ane, and worked in the
kitchens, volunteered the use of one if she could return to the kitchens and
fetch it. Arvid granted permission, and she ran swiftly back to the great hall.

In a very
short time, (for she was fleet of foot indeed) she returned with a small empty
bottle that held a cork for a stopper. This she presented to Felix with a
blushing smile. He thanked her graciously with a twinkling eye, which made her
blush deepen. She dropped her eyes and returned to the crowd, with one backward
look at Felix who winked one eye at her, to her flustered consternation.

Slowly, with a
ponderous air, Felix turned to face Arvid.

“Most
excellent Thene,” he intoned solemnly, “I propose to fill this vial with some
water from the stream so that I may taste it. For if it be the same as the
waters of my country it shall taste the same; and then I shall know for certain
whether these waters be sacred or not.”