The Black Sword Trilogy: The Four Nations (36 page)

She let out a heavy sigh and looking at Kenner and Terri, her eyes softened.

              ‘I’m sorry about that.” She said to them.  “As you can see,” She said glaring at the youth again, “It’s a very sore subject.”

             
The room was uncomfortably quiet for a few moments, until a Morgril with brown fur began giggling under his breath.

             
“What?” The mother asked, glaring at him.

             
“I was just thinking about a question I was going to ask Terri.”

             
“What question is that?”

             
“Do the curtains match the drapes?”

The mother gasped and the others started laughing.

              “I just wanted to break the tension!” He cried out as his brothers started throwing food at him.

             
“You stop that all of you!” The Mother yelled.  “Stop that or I’ll make you all clean it up with your tongues!”

             
After the meal was finished, the Morgrils at the table began picking up the plates, bowls and cups and carrying them to the small door.  The one next to Kenner handed him an empty plate and Kenner didn’t seem to know what to do with it.

             
“Don’t be shy,” The Morgril said to him.  “It’s our tradition that everyone at the table helps clean up afterwards.  Yes, even guests.”

             
“Will your mother hit me with the spoon if I don’t?” Terri asked.

             
“Not with that spoon.  She’s got one that she carved out of a mace that she saves for hitting rude guests.”

             
Terri and Kenner followed them into a kitchen where everyone was busy washing pots, pans and cups.  Terri helped washing the plates and it reminded her of being back on the farm.  She remembered meals with her family and that everyone had a specific job to do after each.  Her and her mother washed dishes, her younger brothers swept floors and the older two went out to get firewood, no matter how cold it was or if it was raining or snowing.  Once again, she was reminded of home and she was glad of it.

             
Kenner was helping to sweep the floor of the dining room with the Morgril with the tan fur.  The mother was sitting in a chair and smoking a pipe.

             
“Why do you call him ‘The Father’?” He asked.

             
“Who,” The Morgril asked.

             
“The big guy on the pedestal?”

             
“Oh, you mean the Father?”

             
“Yes…him.  Why do you call him the Father?”

             
“Because he is the Father.”

             
“Oh…he’s the father of this family.”

             
“He’s the father of everyone in this city.” The mother spoke up.

             
“How so?”

She sighed and took a deep draw of her pipe.

              “How old do you think he might be?” She asked Kenner.

             
“Pretty old, I guess.”

             
“Try a number.”

Kenner t
hought for a moment.

             
“Seventy?  Seventy five?”

The woman laughed heartily.

              “You’re not even close.”

             
“A hundred?”

The Morgril with the tan fur laughed.

              “You’re still not in the same country.” He chuckled.

             
“How old is he, then?” Kenner asked.

“No one k
nows for sure.” The mother told him.  “The only thing we know of his age is that he hasn’t moved out of that chair for two hundred years.”

Kenner almost dropped his broom.

              “You’re kidding?” He exclaimed.

             
“I’m afraid not.”

             
“That’s interesting, but it still doesn’t tell me why you call him ‘The Father’.”

The Morgril woman lowered her head and then had a very sad look on her face.

              “Do you know anything about our history?” She asked Kenner.

             
“A Morgril named Saab told me you were once great thinkers and builders.”

Kenner then noticed the younger Morgril stop sweeping and an angry look cross his face.

              “Let it go.” The Mother said to the young Morgril.

He went back to his sweeping and Kenner almost asked what had happened, but the mother began talking agai
n.

             
“Yes we were,” She continued.  “We were the most advanced people in the known world.  At one time, we were the most populace as well.  We had hundreds of cities all over the land, some on the surface with great towers, buildings and statues, others like this one, built underground.  We helped your people a lot when you first started coming out of your caves, but eventually you began to envy us and fear us.  Your ancestors drove us from our farms and fields in Walechia and the Lords of Masallah started pushing us back from the mountains and hills we had terraced to support us there.  But it was never enough.  No matter how much we gave in for the sake of peace, your ancestors could never have enough.”

             
“What they feared the most was the possibility that we would use our knowledge to build weapons and fight back.  So the Kings of Walechia slaughtered our people, burned our cities and then drove us completely out.  The Lords of Masallah and the early kings began doing similar, but then one King decided it wasn’t enough to simply win one war or another.  He started systematically exterminating us.  To make a long story short, we were reduced to only one male and three females.  From those few, we began repopulating and moving back into the city you are in now.”

             
“That’s not the same story that Saab told me.” Kenner said.

             
“That’s because he’s a liar and a traitor!” The younger Morgril growled.

             
Just at that moment, a tall Morgril with black fur knocked at the door and entered.

             
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Madam.” He said to the woman.  “But the father says it’s time.”

Kenner noticed that they were all looking at him and felt concern from Shela.  He knew that the Morgril was talking about him.

Chapter Forty One

             
“What do you mean the King won’t take his medicine?” Bleylock asked his servant from the fire.

Leyews, on his knees trembled before his master.

              “I’ve tried, Master.  He simply refuses to take it.  He has his guards in front of his bed and he’s given orders that no one is to bring him anything but wine and the wine has to be tasted.  He’s refusing to eat and won’t sleep.  The only one allowed within five steps of his bed is that girl.”

             
“The paranoia is expected,” Bleylock added.  “But his body should be desperate for the medicine at this point.  How long has it been?”

             
“Three days, Master.”

             
“Three days?  He must be in terrible pain.”

             
“Most terrible, Master.  He screams and howls throughout the day and night.  He weeps like a child…”

             
“I don’t care about the noises he makes.” Bleylock said sharply.  “I need him to be taking that medicine so that I can control him.  This is not a good time for him to suddenly become unpredictable.”

             
“But what if he dies?” Leyews asked in a hopeful voice.  “Then all of our problems would be solved.”

             
“If he dies the Congress will elect a new King; perhaps even a strong King and it will take years for me to gain control of him.  No, I need Melkur alive and under control.”

             
“But I don’t understand.”

             
“It is not your place to understand!” Bleylock shouted through the flames.  They flared out of the fireplace and Leyews was nearly burned by them.  The flames died down for a second while Bleylock thought.

             
“This development is unfortunate, but not fatal.” Bleylock continued.  “You must find a way to get him the potion, no matter what the obstacle.”

             
“But how, my Master?”

             
“Must I think of everything for you?”

Still trembling, the servant did not answer.

              “Very well,” Bleylock said.  “Every man has a price.  His guards may not be bought with money, but their time can be borrowed.  Go into the city and hire the most beautiful prostitutes you can find.”

             
“These are loyal guards, Master.  They will not leave their posts…”

             
“Do not interrupt me!”

The flames flared again.

              “Bring them into the Kings chamber with wine laced with a sleeping potion.  Once they have fallen asleep, give the King his medicine no matter what his objections.  Pour it down his throat if you have to.”

             
It did not take long for Leyews to find two beautiful, young prostitutes and with the silver he offered them and the promise of a night in the palace, they were more than willing.  After he brought them into the palace, he had to bribe every guard he came across in order to sneak them through to the King’s private chamber.  On a table outside the chamber door was a platter with a bottle of wine and two stone goblets.  Leyews poured the wine into the two goblets and then added drops of a potion from a glass vial.

             
When he entered the chamber, the two guards immediately snapped to attention and drew their swords.

             
“It is late, Doctor,” One of them said firmly.  “No one is allowed near the King at this hour.”

             
“I have brought you both some company.” He said smiling at them.

The two girls followed after him and smiled alluringly at the guards while each held a
goblet of wine in their hands.

             
“We will not leave our posts, conjurer.”

             
“I’m not asking you to leave your posts.  I know the nights can be long and boring and I brought you these ladies simply for some company and conversation.”

             
“Just so?”

             
“I swear it on my life.”

They looked at each other with suspicious looks and then sheathed their swords.

              “If that is so, it’s very kind of you, Doctor.”

             
The girls gave the wine to the guards and within moments they fell to the floor asleep.  Leyews told the girls to find empty rooms in the palace to sleep and he was then alone with the King, or so he thought.

             
With the cup full of potion in his hand, he pulled back the curtain surrounding the King’s bed.  Melkur was pale and sweaty.  His breathing and labored and he trembled all over.  Leyews tried to rouse the King by shaking him, but Melkur only mumbled something he couldn’t hear.  He resolved that what would have to do was pour the potion into the King’s open mouth and then hold his nose closed so that he would swallow it.

             
He leaned over Melkur’s body and placed the cup over the King’s face.  As he started to tip the cup so that the potion would pour into Melkur’s mouth, the girl in the bed suddenly awoke.

             
“What are you doing?” She said in a start.

             
“Be quiet girl.” Leyews tried whispering angrily at her, but she was soon shouting and struggling with Leyews.

             
“Guard!  Guard!” She yelled.  “He’s trying to poison the King!  He’s trying to poison the King!”

One of the guards heard this and dizzily began to wake up.  T
hrough bleary eyes, he saw a man standing over the bed and holding something in his raised hand.  By instinct, he drew his blade and stumbled out of the chair he’d fallen in to.  Using his sword almost like a cane he stood up again and plunged his sword into the back of the blurry figure.

              High up in a Blackwood tree, Kayla was cradled softly by branches and vines that intertwined to make her bed.  She was more than comfortable as even the normally hard wood had softened and conformed to her every curve and the leaves had formed a soft, down-like pillow.  But she could not sleep.