Empress Aurora Trilogy Quest For the Kingdom Parts I, II, and III Revised With Index (Quest For the Kingdom Set) (45 page)

Everyone fixed
their attention on the Thene, waiting for his response to Felix’s proposal. The
tension among the crowd was almost palpable, Marcus felt. He marveled at the
swift change in the mood from outrage at Felix’s challenge to anxiety lest he
be proved right, and Jytte’s sacred waters to be found less than divine.

Arvid stood
rigidly and spoke from tightly clenched lips.

“Proceed,” he
ordered spitting the word out between his teeth.

Felix
approached the stream and stepping carefully onto the slippery bank, knelt and
dipped the little bottle into the bubbling waters. He filled it quickly; then
turned back to Arvid, with an air of bewilderment.

“How stupid of
me,” he remarked with a shrug. “I need a drinking cup. Is there any near at
hand?”

There was none
to be found, but Ane volunteered once again to run to the kitchens and fetch
whatever Felix would require. Everyone followed her with their eyes and waited
impatiently for her return.

She swiftly
emerged back into view, holding a wooden mug aloft in triumph. There was a
murmur of approval and she bore the cup to Felix, her eyes shining and
expectant. Once again he thanked her, and bowed his head over her hand. She
shyly drew it back and melted into the crowd.

Holding the
mug with both hands, Felix returned to the stream and filled the mug. He held
it aloft and in a ceremonious manner gave it to Arvid.

“If the waters
be like that in my own land, they will be salt, not fresh,” Felix stated. “For
I believe it is something in the salt itself that relieves the ache of the
joints, the pain of old age. Will you taste it and say whether the water is
salt or fresh?”

Arvid took the
cup from Felix. He held it, and for a moment hesitated before tasting, as if
reluctant to have the outcome determined. Then he took a cautious sip.

Quickly he
spat it out.

“Salt!” he
choked, his features distorted in a grimace. “It is salt, not fresh.”

“Ah,” said
Felix. “It is as I thought. This stream is the same as the waters in my own
land. Therefore, they cannot be divine. They cannot be sacred to Jytte.”

A howl arose
from Ylva.

“You lie!” she
screamed. “How dare you insult Jytte! You deserve death! You
shall
die!”

Suddenly, a
strange transformation seemed to take place in Ylva. Her face narrowed, her
forehead appeared lower, and her tumbled mane of hair seemed to dominate her.
She whipped out a dagger from the sleeve of her robe, and leaped forward at
Felix with the speed and ferocity of a wolf. But she never reached him.

Without
warning, a crack was heard over their heads. An ice-covered limb from one of
the tallest trees had broken under its own weight and it descended with
astonishing rapidity, gaining speed as it fell to earth from its lofty height.

Straight for
Ylva it headed, and before she could move out of its path, its icy point
pierced her heart like a spear and impaled her to the ground. Her body jerked
once; then lay still and unmoving.

Stunned horror
fell on those who witnessed her death. Halvor alone kept his wits about him. He
fell on Ylva, lifting her body in his arms and rocked it, covering her face
with his tears. In his grief he swayed back and forth. But she did not respond.

At last he
looked up at Felix, who stood rooted to the ground, transfixed at the scene
before him.

“You,” Halvor
spat the words from his mouth, “shall pay for this!”

He leapt at
Felix, but Dag jumped at Halvor. Arvid stepped between them and both drew back.

“Tell me,”
Arvid whispered in a husky voice, “who you are. For all here can see that you
are divinely protected. For you should die for challenging Jytte, yet it is one
of her most ardent followers that lies dead at your feet!”

Felix took a
deep breath and composed himself, for the sudden death of Ylva had shaken him
more than anyone else present. He had no doubt that Dominio intervened to save
his life, yet the death of Ylva gave him no pleasure; for she had died
unrepentant, with all her sins upon her.

“As for who I
am, I am only Felix Lucius, a mere mortal,” he responded to Arvid. “But it is
Dominio, the all-powerful whom I serve, whose power you just witnessed, that
you should fear.”

“Why should I
fear your god?” asked Arvid. “He is merely another, and Jytte is Queen of them all.
It is she who makes the healing spring; and if, as you say, you have these
springs in your land also, then her power is even greater than we knew.”

This statement
confounded Felix, who had supposed that his proving the stream of healing to be
no greater than those of his own country would divest Jytte of any false claims
to divinity. He turned in consternation to Marcus for assistance.

But Marcus
remembered the words of Logos, written on the blade only the night before…

“Logos,
remember,” he mouthed silently to Felix, and Felix suddenly remembered, and
drew himself up to a height that made him seem divinely tall.

“Yet, I say
you
shall
fear my God!” Felix suddenly declared. “For Dominio is
greater, far greater than Jytte or any other of your gods whom you serve.”

He faced Arvid
and the assembled gathering.

“You worship
Jytte because you believe she heals you through these springs. Yet I say that
Dominio has the power to transform these springs, and turn salt water into
fresh!”

A ripple of
excitement ran through the onlookers. Kyrene turned on Felix a look both
questioning and appalled, but he merely smiled at her and nodded as if to say,
trust me.

Arvid once
again quelled the agitation of the crowd with an upraised hand.

“Show us your
proof!” he flung at Felix.

Felix held up
the cup of water. He gently laid one hand over the rim of it. He closed his
eyes for a moment, and then opened his mouth.

“O great
Dominio,” he prayed. “It is You who made all of creation. It is Your power
alone that sustains all of life. It is You who send forth the rivers of living
water to satisfy and refresh. Even now, O great Dominio, breathe on this water,
and turn salt into fresh!”

Felix removed
his hand, and lifted the cup upward. The sun, which for a moment had been
hidden by a cloud, suddenly reappeared and beamed with renewed intensity. Then
Felix lowered the cup and offered it to Arvid.

The Thene
hesitated, looking with trepidation at the mug. Then he drank. He took a tiny
sip, remembering the salt of his previous attempt. A look of wonder transformed
his craggy face. He sniffed the water, and then sipped it again. Then he drank
from it thirstily, draining the cup in one long swallow.

“It is fresh!”
he exclaimed. “And it is the best water I have ever tasted, so crisp and invigorating.
I feel as if my youth were restored!”

Amazement fell
on all gathered, and a mighty cheer arose. Cort and Dag embraced, as did Kyrene
and Elena. The Thene addressed Felix once more.

“Truly, you
were right. Your Dominio has power even over Jytte. I wish to know more of Him.
You are released, you and your companions, from your imprisonment. Yet I would
have you stay a while, to tell us more of your God, so that we may serve Him
also.”

No greater joy
could fill the heart of Marcus than that statement. How good, how faithful was
Dominio! In the general rejoicing he took no more notice of Felix who had
sidled closer to him. Feeling a nudge in his ribs, he glanced at Felix, who
looked down at his hand.

In it he held
the small bottle of water, stopped with the cork.

Puzzled,
Marcus looked questioningly at Felix.

“How,” he
started to ask, only to stop at Felix’s warning glance.

“I stopped it
up and hid it when all were distracted by Ane fetching the cup. Now you can
take a little of the Fountain of Youth back to Aurora!”

They stayed in
Jytte’s Land for the remainder of the winter, instructing them in the teachings
of Alexandros. Gunnar was of invaluable assistance. One of the joys of their
stay in Jytte’s Land was their acquaintance with Gunnar. He had been born and
bred in that country, and had believed in Jytte like all of his people. He also
had blindly given adoration to her, simply because he had known of no other
god.

But a few
years back a prisoner had shared the Good News with him the night before he
himself was executed. His story was a revelation to Gunnar, yet he was not
persuaded that it was true. It was only the courageous manner in which he went
to his death that convinced Gunnar that the man’s faith was genuine, and he had
given his heart to Alexandros as he watched the man’s execution, and pledged
himself to the service of Dominio. Since that time he had come to know and
experience the presence of Dominio, and was filled with His Spirit, and knew
that He was real.

Arvid was the
first to give his allegiance to Dominio, and pronounced that henceforth Jytte’s
Land would be known as Grete’s Land, Grete being the word for pearl in their
language. Arvid had been much captivated by the story of the Pearl, and how its
ownership cost all that one possessed. He ordered the sacred statue of Jytte
destroyed, and the worship of her abolished. Throughout the land they went,
cleansing it from the abomination of her idolatry, and dedicating the land to
Dominio and the advancement of His Kingdom.

Halvor alone
defied the Thene, and persisted in his worship of Jytte. When the word of it
was brought to Arvid, he ordered Halvor to be brought into his presence, where
he forbade him to ever worship Jytte again or face banishment from Grete’s
Land.

Halvor
defiantly chose banishment and cursed the luckless day that brought Marcus and
his friends to their land. They discovered that Halvor had been Ylva’s secret
lover, and she had influenced Halvor, who in turn planted seeds of doubt toward
any new faith in the Thene’s minister, who was a friend of Halvor’s and had
direct access to Arvid. Thus the web of deceit was spun, and at the death of
Ylva all within its grasp was released. All but Halvor, who still felt her
spell though she lay dead.

When Marcus
asked for Ylva’s history, he was told that little was known about her. She had
simply appeared in their midst one day about three years before, and said she
had been washed up on their shores after a mighty storm wrecked the ship on
which she was traveling. The storm scattered the remnants of the ship and its
crew, and Ylva alone was cast away on Jytte’s Land. When faced with the choice
of death or joining them, she chose to stay and avidly became a devotee and
soon had Halvor ensnared in her grasp, and spurred on others to remain loyal to
Jytte and serve her with fervent devotion.

Marcus
occasionally puzzled over the strange and eerie transformation he had beheld in
Ylva’s face just before she died. Upon encountering Kyrene taking a walk alone
one day, he asked her about it.

“Was Ylva one
of the Astra?” he asked abruptly, without preamble.

Kyrene,
accustomed by now to this son of a soldier and his imperative manner that
bordered on curtness at times, took no offense.

“I believe it
is possible,” she answered. “I am not certain if she was one of the Astra
themselves in human form, or if she had given herself to them so completely
that they could take over her form. But you saw how she called for our blood to
be spilled, even before we named Dominio as our God whom we serve. She knew who
we were, even as she watched us in the forest and stalked us as some game she
would gorge herself on. She understood Dag’s language, though she answered his
question in the Common Tongue, when no one else knew of our lands. And none
knew from whence she came, yet she exerted tremendous power over the people of
Jytte’s Land.”

Marcus
meditated on her answer.

“What of
Halvor? Was he one of them as well?” he asked.

Kyrene
considered the question, a small frown wrinkling her brow.

“I think not,”
she returned. “For you saw how passionate his grieving was as he held her body
in his arms. It is certain that he loved her, and the Astra are incapable of
love. Therefore, I think Halvor was merely a man, one of her dupes whom she
deceived in order to rule through them.”

Kyrene looked
Marcus fully in the face.

“Do not waste
any pity on Ylva, Marcus; for she in her evil set her own course long ago. She
lusted for bloodshed, and it was her own that was poured out. Pity instead poor
Halvor, and pray that the day comes when he can break free of her deception,
and turn to the Light and be saved.”

The long
winter was ending, and they must take leave of their new friends. They had
lingered until the ice over the ponds had snapped with the first thaw, and the
pine branches shook off their last dusting of snow. The robin had returned and
heralded in song the first warming rays of the sun. On a day in early April, when
the last of the snow on the river banks had melted into the water below, they
continued their journey.

It was with
genuine regret that they bade farewell to Gunnar. What a friend he had proved
to be; putting his own life at risk to save theirs. Over the winter he had
bonded with Dag as fellow Northerners, and it amused Marcus to watch them
together; Dag so stoic of expression and slow of speech, and Gunnar so animated
of face and quick to play a practical joke on his new friend.

Marcus
recalled with relish the morning when Gunnar, aware of Dag’s fondness for
honey, hid the pot that sat on the table where they broke their fast in the
morning. It was Dag’s custom to smear a liberal amount on his bread, and he was
extremely upset the day he found it missing. He searched in every corner of the
room where they dined, then stormed to the kitchen to confront Ane. She was
confounded and stammered that she had placed it on the table as usual that
morning.

A burst of
laughter from Gunnar alerted Dag that mischief was afoot. He turned on him and
demanded to know where the honey was. Gunnar could barely contain his
merriment.

“You must hunt
for it, and show us if you are as good a hunter as Cort says you are!” he
chuckled, unfazed by Dag’s scowl.

Dag was not
deterred, and he searched throughout the great hall, but no honey was to be
found.

“Where is it?”
he roared at Gunnar.

By this time
everyone gathered in the hall was in gales of mirth at Dag’s determination to
find the honey. Even the usually sober Elena was giggling uncontrollably, and
she clung to Kyrene’s arm, so weak was she from laughter.

“I will find
it; you may be sure, yah!” Dag threatened in all seriousness.

This threat
was the undoing of Kyrene, who dissolved into a heap of hysterics on the floor,
and had to be pulled to her feet by Elena, who nearly fell with her while
clasping her arm.

“You are
wasting time looking in here,” Gunnar advised Dag.

“It is not in
the house?” Dag questioned, and he headed for the door at the rear of the hall.

Without even
stopping to don his
kapake
he burst through the door and searched anew.
He looked first in the bushes that grew near the door, but turned up nothing.

He turned over
empty flower pots waiting for their spring flowers in the adjacent garden. They
were empty. Nor did the stones that bordered the garden reveal anything when he
looked behind them.

Suddenly,
Elena’s laughter was cut off and a scream erupted from her lips. All turned in
the direction of her gaze.

At the foot of
an elm tree only a few yards from where they gathered, a large brown bear was
reared on its hind legs, attempting to reach something in the fork of the
trunk.

On hearing the
scream, the bear turned its attention from the tree and toward the assembled
group, now closer to the bear than they were the safety of the house. It
charged them as they stood frozen in place. Without any hesitation Dag picked
up one of the heavy stones that ringed the garden, and running at the charging
bear, flung it at the head of the great beast.

They heard a
loud thud, and the bear fell to one side, its skull crushed. Dag did not stop
to examine his kill, but headed straight for the tree. He peered up into its
branches, and picked up a limb that had snapped off and fallen to the ground.
He raised it over his head and grappled for something in the tree.

Down fell the
honey pot, and a beaming Dag bore it back to the others, who were still frozen
in place, stunned by their near brush with death.

“I found it!”
Dag triumphed to Gunnar, who stared at his friend, his mouth opened wide in
amazement.

“And as you
can see,” Felix said, pointing to the dead bear, “he
is
as good a hunter
as Cort said he is.”

Now they were
carried once more on the River Zoe. She carried them southward for a day or two;
then her course veered sharply eastward. Along the banks they saw willow trees
draping their branches, clad in the pale green of spring. Small yellow birds
similar to finches flitted along the shore and warbled cheerfully. Here and
there they spotted tall white birds with long legs wading out in the middle of
the stream, ducking their heads below the surface to snatch an unwary fish for
its meal.

Overhead the
sun rode the sky and warmed them in its soothing glow. Gratefully they lifted
their faces to its kiss, savoring the beaming rays after the long harsh winter
of Grete’s Land.

A sense of laziness
descended on all of them. One by one they closed their eyes and nodded off,
lulled by the warmth of the sun, and the gentle rhythm of the river’s current.
Content to let Zoe carry them along they succumbed to slumber and drifted away
on the tide of sleep.

A thud and a
sudden stop shook them out of their sleep. The boat had come to rest in an
inland cove. Stupid with sleep they took several moments to become fully awake
and take stock of their surroundings.

Zoe had
narrowed to a small rivulet too tiny to navigate. They debarked from the boat
onto a bank dotted with willows such as they had seen earlier in the day. They
spied a footpath in the new grass and decided to follow it. Since this was
where Zoe stopped it must be where they were meant to go.

A shock lay in
store for them, however. During the hours they dozed in the sun they had been
unaware of the course Zoe had taken. It was an astonishing revelation to them
when the path led them uphill over a grassy bank and they found themselves
peering through the willow branches and looking downward at a lake surrounded
by mountain peaks. Zoe had carried them upward into a mountain range.

And what
unusual peaks they were to be sure! High and straight they rose in triangular
peaks like the great teeth of some mythological creature. Like gray granite,
hard and glittering, yet capped with pristine snow. Reflected in the clear
waters of the lake they seemed to capture them between their jaws like some
beast that was loathed to let them go. They saw in the distance peak after
peak, and still more beyond.

It was late
afternoon, and Marcus decided they must hurry to find some shelter in which to
pass the night. The landscape looked foreboding and unfriendly, though he would
not admit that to himself.

Where, he
wondered, had Zoe led them now? And whether the inhabitants of this strange
land would prove to be as hostile as the terrain which they found facing them.