The Death of the Lake (4)

Only temporarily here on Substack. A dark romantic fantasy.

Chapter 4: The councillor’s kindness

Merush took one of the castle’s blackwood boats and sat with the servants rowing it. Luckily the weather was fine and sunny; still a cold wind was blowing across the lake. The young councillor wrapped into his thick cloak. Now he was to serve as a delivery boy! Pathetic! Merush hated nearly every minute he had to work for Lord Morten. Work? Ha! He was more of a slave to his master. His attire was fine and he lived in the most luxurious castle ever seen, but it didn’t make his work any more honorable - he was a servant, a slut just like the girls from the court. Merush did everything his master commanded, no matter what it was. Today he had to deliver a letter. It was the third time he went to the same house with the same request. Well, maybe not exactly the same. This last letter was different than the previous two. Merush knew what it said. Lord Morten had dictated it for him to write down. The old pervert had desired a young girl of an Autumnian descent to join his court. Her mother was an Autumnian High-born, she had eloped with a Thilian tradesman, now they lived in Thilia. It’s their sixteen-year-old daughter Lord Morten had heard about from his spies. She was said to be a girl of an unseen beauty.

Merush pitied the girl already. If she would’ve come to the court when first summoned, the girl may have survived. After her father hid the girl, and ignored Lord Morten’s invitation, the old scumbag got furious. Now, not only did he wish to get the girl, but he wanted to destroy her and the parents, and to celebrate his victory for everyone to see. When attending his son’s wedding yesterday, Lord Morten made an offer of marriage - he demanded young Ulise as his bride. Her father was hesitant. Reluctantly he agreed, but Lord Morten would still send him a letter to make it official. Lord Hadrian of Thilia was also informed. Morten had threatened with harsh consequences for the whole island, if the girl is not sent to Autumna soon.

And that was not all. Merush knew his master wished for a legitimate heir. He hated young Herki, only the Foreverold knows why! Merush hadn’t spoken to the young master much these two years, but he seemed to be a sensible man, unlike his mad father. Morten had killed his previous three wives, who were all pure Autumnians, by wanting to produce an heir. Could a half-Autumnian survive? Merush did not believe so. He had come to deliver a death sentence to the girl, and what a shameful death it shall be!

The young Snakeling gave the letter to the girl’s father. Merush saw the girl, as she walked out of the drawing room to let her father speak to his guest. Beautiful she was indeed. What a waste!

“I’m very sorry!” Merush said after her father read the letter.

“I was instructed to wait for your reply,” he added. The man frowned, leaning heavily on his desk.

“What can I reply? Am I to send my child for that monster to devour?!”

“She will be an honourable wife of a Lord,”

“You know very well she will not be honored, but disgraced!”

Merush frowned, he had no answer for the desperate man. After some minutes in awkward silence, Merush spoke,

“You shall serve your own Lord by submitting to my master’s request. Thilia island would be in danger otherwise,”

“You! You’re a councillor, aren’t you?! Can you talk your master out of it? He has plenty of girls surrounding him. And he can have any other woman in Autumna. Why her?!” The father grabbed Merush by the collar of his shirt, begging him.

“I cannot change his mind! The Lord of the Lake is worse than you can imagine! I can’t help you. I’m just a servant,” Merush withstood the man’s outburst of despair. He straightened his collar.

“My Lord will wait for your answer, but he shall not wait long,” the councillor bowed and swiftly went to the door. Obviously, the girl listening behind it, did not expect him to leave so abruptly. Ulise jumped back as he exited. Merush looked at the girl sympathetically - he could do nothing to help her. The poor thing appeared to be devastated already - her eyes were red and swollen, she had been crying. Silently he turned away and left.

The innocent look in her eyes, as well as the notion of the night she spent crying, reminded Merush of somebody. He gritted his teeth and picked up the pace, listening to the sound of his own footsteps on the cobblestone, observing the sights of white-and-blue coloured Thilian houses, breathing in the scents of the busy town. Anything to occupy his mind; he mustn’t think of the one with the innocent eyes. She was summoned to Lord Morten’s court a year ago, instead of Ulise. When Merush first saw this girl with deep, dark Autumnian eyes, but the purest expression in them, something broke inside of him - the councillor knew what future laid ahead of her. A slut. That’s all she’ll ever be. After the master had enough playing with them and they showed the first signs of ageing, he sent them away. The lucky ones were taken back by their families and never spoken of in public, the others ended up in Autumnian brothels.

Soon enough the girl was sent to Merush’s chamber to please him. The other girls had told her about the councillor’s kindness. Still she came into his chamber shyly, lowering her sight. Merush smirked - she had been Lord Morten’s mistress for over two months, no need to pretend to be a virtuous maiden. He invited the girl to have some tea. When their eyes met, he saw the girl’s sight still held the beautiful notion of innocence in it, and she also had been crying. Although her flesh was tainted, her pure spirit was still intact. Mari. Mariani was her name. They had tea, then talked for a while, then she slept in his bed, while Merush sat by the desk doing some paperwork for the kingdom, as usual. His Lord never bothered to engage in such boring business. Needless to say, the young councillor didn’t get much work done. He couldn’t help but stare at the girl sleeping. There was something about her, maybe her ability to keep her spirit pure from all the dirt she was forced to go through. As time passed, she didn’t change. Merush enjoyed her company more than he dared to admit. They talked, their smiles grew warmer each time she visited. Merush began to long for these visits whole-heartedly. He despised his lord even more than before. But the work had to be done - Merush was sent to Autumna to fulfill an important task. The Snakelings did not offer their wisdom out of kindness. They observed the other peoples around them, especially the Autumnians. The councillors gathered useful information and gave it to Snakelings. Merush put up with Lord Morten only because he comprehended the gravity of his task. He did not plan to fall in love. How can a flower bloom in harsh autumn winds? And still there are some that can. Though Merush never confessed, Mari knew his heart.

Merush got into the blackwood boat. Now there was nothing much to draw his attention, just the lake. He could not hold back the memories.

The last time Mari visited him, she held his hand tight and that would have been enough - the poor councillor melted from ecstasy to feel her touch. But she did more - pressed his hand to her heart and said,

“It beats for you. Otherwise I would’ve stopped it. My life is worthless. I live for you.”

Merush closed his eyes overwhelmed. Her heartbeat was fast. Still he would hold his restraint, hating himself for it. His task was far too important. His upbringing strict. These feelings would just get in his way. It could never work - he is to serve his people, then go back to the Snakeling island and marry a Snakeling woman. There was no other way. But Mari was a hot-blooded Autumnian and would not understand that. She leaned closer, listening to his heartbeat. Her body felt warm; never before had Merush been so close to a woman. Snakelings were cold, both in spirit and flesh, not easy to seduce at all. But he would have given anything to stay standing like this forever.

“Promise you’ll take me away from here one day!”

“I cannot promise you anything,”

“Can I still pretend you’ve promised? It would give me hope that someday this nightmare will end. I’ll smile each morning when I wake, remembering the promise,” she whispered.

“You may pretend,”

Mari shook crying quietly. Merush would’ve cried with her, but he couldn’t. Snakelings were unable to cry, just like snakes.

A splash of water hit his face, waking the councillor from the daydream; a high wave had clashed against the blackwood boat. Merush glanced around. He saw a small boat following them. The sharp Snakeling eyes recognized his Lord’s spies. When they caught up with the blackwood boat, the news they brought were grim ones - the young Lord Herkian’s wife was murdered and he had been accused of her death.

***

Herki woke up lying face down in a puddle of wine. Tiny glass shards stung his face. The fire had tortured him long into the night until he fainted on the floor powerless. No strength was left within him. It was still early, grey dawn crept into the cellar with the sound of the waves clashing on the lake shore - a storm was coming.

The guards brought their prisoner his last meal. They went out hurriedly; the rumours about the deadly nature of the Dragonling had spread, and he still was the son of the Autumna wizard with the power to makes one’s blood flow backward. Herki didn’t touch the food.

Workers hammered a wooden board platform on the nearby meadow - the rushed execution was to take place there. A lonely wooden block waited for a head to be placed upon it, just before the swing of the axe would detach it from the prisoner’ s neck.

The whole island was buzzing. The bells would ring, streams of people flowed to the meadow; nobody wanted to miss such a spectacle, because Thilia island hadn’t witnessed an execution for many centuries.

The cart with the convict laying in it, rattled through the cobblestone streets. Lord Hadrian and his soldiers rode before it. They dragged Herki onto the platform and left him kneeling; the miserable young man voluntarily put his head on the wooden block embracing it like a pillow. A hefty man wearing a mask stepped on the platform with a sharp axe in his hands.

Nearly every islander had come to see the execution. Tradesmen and blacksmiths, bakers and carpenters, servants and maids abandoned their work, because their masters were also here, staring at the black-haired boy kneeling helpless before them.

Lord Hadrian stood near him and made his speech.

“My fellow Thilians! A horrible cause has made us gather here on this cold and stormy day. A crime of unthinkable cruelty has been committed on our sunny island. An innocent life is taken. My daughter…” the Lord paused, gritting his teeth not to break down in tears, “My dearest Ariadne is dead. And this man is to blame! Is it not just, to take a villain’s life for the life of the innocent, that he has taken?”

He looked around waiting for the approval of his people, but none followed. Thilians stared at Herki in silence.

“Furthermore, we must make sure our maidens are safe from this murderer! Thilian daughters shall not fear for their lives on our island!” He paused. Still no one dared to break the silence, except the rumbling thunder above them and the howling wind.

“Lord Herkian of Autumna, son of Mortenian, I sentence you to death by beheading! Any last words?”

Finally, Herki raised his weary sight to the crowd.

“Luke! Where are you?”

“Do speak up boy!”

“Luke! You are my brother no matter what! Take care of my love, Luke! Please, take care of Ulise!” Herki shouted, then collapsed back on the wooden block. No answer. No sign of Luke. Lord Hadrian gestured to the executioner.

“You aren’t going to make my blood flow backward, are you lad?” he asked with the axe trembling in his large hands. Herki shook his head. He knew the man - it was indeed one of the Thilian butchers.

“Don’t worry, it’s good and sharp. You won’t feel any pain,” the man said sympathetically. Herki nodded. No drum sounds accompanied the execution, just the thunder from the east. The executioner gently adjusted Herki’s head and neck on the block, and brushed the boy’s long black hair from his neck, then raised his axe.

“Wait! Wait!” Luke’s melodious voice resounded behind the crowd, but nobody heard him, for another noise arose high above their heads - with a deafening rumble of the thunderstorm a giant crimson beast emerged from the dark clouds; Lord Morten had arrived for the one he wanted to take back with him.

Pondering deep into the night Luke dozed off only an hour before the dawn. He woke up from the bells ringing, embracing his sword. After staring at the ceiling for a while he suddenly comprehended - the bells summoned the islanders to the execution. Luke grabbed the sword and ran, pushing through the crowded streets.

The dragon circled above the island once more, before it landed on the meadow. Its enormous wings flapping created winds stronger than the storm. The terrified Thilians screamed and shrieked. Lord Mortenian got off the richly trimmed cart fastened onto the dragon’s back. He was accompanied only by the councillor, who was the one holding the reigns of the dragon. The Wizard of Autumna didn’t need any soldiers protecting him; the power of controlling the blood flow of others was frightening enough.

Elegantly attired, Lord Morten leisurely paced toward the wooden platform. The poor executioner drooped his axe and ran into the crowd.

“Well, I have always deemed the Thilians as fairly sensible people, but now I am forced to think otherwise,” Lord Morten glanced over his son and the crowd surrounding him.

“Your son has committed an unforgivable crime!” Lord Hadrian stood up straight opposed him. Both men were the same height, the Autumnian undoubtedly appeared younger and his presence had more weight to it.

“You and your folk have assaulted my kin - that’s unforgivable! Which death do you prefer - from fire or water? Should I make the lake wipe the island clean from Thilians or maybe you choose being roasted alive? Kitty here wouldn’t mind a second breakfast as well. What will it be?” Lord Morten smiled with flames flickering in his eyes.

The Thilians were horrified, they didn’t dare to move or even breath.

“But I am a generous Lord! I shall give you a chance to save your pathetic lives. You have something I want to take with me. Give it to me, and I’ll spare the Thilians,”

“Take your offspring and be gone!” Lord Hadrian retorted.

“No, no, no, it’s not that simple! I made an offer of marriage to one of the Thilian daughters, and I expect it to be accepted right now,”

“Thilians shall not sacrifice one of their own!” Lord Hadrian responded, he indeed was a brave man.

“Well then, I guess this is farewell, Thilia island!” Lord Morten raised his hand to Kitty the dragon, she would spit fire on his command.

“I accept! I accept the offer!” a girl stepped onto the platform from the crowd. She took off the maid’ s cloak - Ulise had sneaked out of her house disguised, begging the maids to help her. Now she stood in the wind, her hair torn by the raging storm, her blue eyes burning with determination. Ulise’s father cried “no!” in the crowd, but it was too late. Herki sat up with his eyes wide open.

“You indeed are a rare beauty! And a sensible creature as well. How fortunate!” Lord Morten paced to her and caressed Ulise’s cheek.

“Please, don’t hurt the Thilians, my Lord!” Ulise begged and bowed her head.

“And such excellent manners! You’ll make a lovely bride. Come, my dear! Let’s not waste any more time - we have an engagement feast waiting for us. The wedding shall take place in two weeks, and, of course, the Thilians are welcome to witness our union,” He grinned at them. Herki tried to stand up, he shook his head in disbelieve. Ulise gave him one last desperate look before giving her hand to the Lord of the Lake.

Morten led Ulise to the dragon. Merush glanced at her sympathetically, his eyes caught up with Herki’s stare.

“But my Lord! What about your son?” the confused councillor murmured.

“What about him? I got what I came for. The bastard can make his way home himself. Sadly, he usually does,” The Lord shrugged. Both him and Ulise sat in the cart, Merush directed the dragon to fly back to Autumna and they soared into the wind-shredded clouds.