The Brush Tiger of Derven Ch. 24-25

He squeezes her, not wanting to let go, "Then come back to me," he replies with a shaky voice.

Forcing herself to let go, she turns away from him and rushes through the door. Todd stands outside with Greystar, tying a satchel onto his saddle. The horse paws at the ground, waiting impatiently. Though she doesn't need it, Todd gives her a boost up. The horse takes off immediately not needing direction.

As they fly through the town, Mora looks over her shoulder, trying to get one last glimpse of Rick-but she can't make anything out through her tears.

CHAPTER 25: LOSS

The ride through the forest seems to take forever though she doesn't recall any bit of it. The early morning gloom of the sun behind the clouds fades quickly once she reaches the public road to Derven. Despite the tremendous amount of darkness around her heart, the bright and beautiful day serves as a picturesque reminder of her old, unhappy life. Mora hardly notices anything, counting on Greystar to take her directly to the castle. A million thoughts, regrets and guilts race through her head. She is off of the horse and running through the halls in the castle before she even realizes that she is home.

Taking the twisting and turning hallways at full speed, she almost slips and falls twice on her way to her father's bedroom. With a great heave she crashes through the doors. The royal doctor and Laren stand next to his bed. Mora runs over, grasping her father's hand, "Father? Father! I'm here now," she exclaims breathlessly.

He painfully turns his head towards her; his usually tan face seems deathly pale. She briefly notices the bandage on his chest, covered with blood. The dullness of his eyes tells her that he doesn't have much time left.

"Out," he tells the doctor and Laren. They bow, leaving quickly. Mora gets up, sitting on the edge of her father's bed so she can stroke his face.

He smiles at her, "I've missed you, Namora."

"Don't talk," she begs through her tears.

He shakes his head at her, "There is something I need to tell you," he says, "I don't have much time so please listen carefully."

She tries to stifle her sobs when her father squeezes her hand.

"Your mother didn't die, she killed herself," he says with no more conviction than talking about the weather.

"What? I don't understand," Mora exclaims.

"A long time ago, when I was a little younger than you, I met the most beautiful woman. She fled here, from Sceadu. My father had arranged for me to be married to the oldest daughter of Geofen but when he caught me in the orchard saying goodbye to the woman from Sceadu he immediately called off my marriage because he knew that I loved her. That is how I came to marry your mother."

"I thought my mother was from Derven?" Mora wonders if her father is losing his mind along with his life.

"No. Years we spent together, deeply in love. I began to grow old but she-she did not; she kept her beauty as perfectly as the day that we met. It was maybe ten years, when she was pregnant with you that she told me her secret."

"Secret?"

"Your mother was an immortal," he coughs painfully.

Tears stream down from her face, she looks at her father like he is crazy, "Please father, don't talk," she begs.

He shakes his head again, catching his breath and continues, "No one knows why it happens but it just does. Some people are born who don't age or die like everyone else. Your mother was one hundred and ninety-seven years old when we met; I know child, I found it hard to believe too. Then she told me why she fled from Sceadu."

"Why?" Even though a majority of her mind does not believe him, a small flicker of curiosity gets the better of her.

"King Irron."

"The previous one?"

"No, they are one in the same. Your mother was the oldest immortal-the second oldest was born just a few years after her. That child grew to be an evil man who became a King. Irron hunted down all the other immortals and killed them."

"But why?" The wheels of her mind begin turning.

"Because it is a very difficult thing to kill an immortal and only the immortals have the strength and knowledge to do so. He was after your mother so she fled her long time home in the dark forests to come to Derven. When she became pregnant with you, her heart grew very sad. She knew that he wouldn't quit until she was dead but she didn't think herself strong enough to stop him. Your mother did what she thought was right and killed herself so that you and I would be safe."

"No," Mora says firmly with disbelief.

Her father points to a box on the night stand, her mother's box. Mora hands it to him.

"An immortal's bones are different from a human's; the outside of them is covered with metal. This metal is found nowhere else and the only thing that is strong enough to pierce that metal is itself." His voice begins to grow weaker.

She thinks of the day Irron told her he wore a metal vest to protect himself; she was only able to injure him because she cut through his muscle, where there was no bone.

"After you were born, your mother," the King continues with great sorrow, "locked herself in the throne room. I can still remember the screams," he begins to cry. "She cut through her chest and broke off one of her ribs so that she could stab herself in the heart," he opens the box, pulling out a wicked looking curved knife, "before she died she made me promise that when you were old enough and strong enough I would give this to you, so that you could kill Irron and put an end to his cruelty." He hands her the knife.

It is only when Mora turns it in her hands that she realizes the hilt is made from broken bone and that the blade, a sharp, dark metal, is the size and shape of a rib. She drops it onto the bed in disbelief.

Her father's breathing becomes labored, "One more thing, quickly child," he reaches out to her, squeezing her hands in his with the last bit of his strength, "An immortal's blood is infectious; anyone who drinks it becomes a mindless being who only does what the immortal demands. I have suspected for years that all of Irron's army has been infected. Since you are half immortal, I don't think it will have any effect on you but you must beware of any of the Sceadu that try to drink Alumenian blood. The only way to break that curse will be to kill Irron."

Dark, beady eyes of the Alumenian soldiers. His special wine. Blood. Drinking blood...The wine, from the tree in the cave. "Father," she says quickly, "I have been drinking Sceaduian wine since I was captured!"

He smiles faintly, "Your mother was a great healer in our lands, though none knew what the secret ingredient in her tonics were."

"I think I can heal you," she grabs her mother's dagger and holds it to her arm only to be stopped by her father. She looks sadly into his fading eyes, "But why?" she chokes out.

"It is your time now," he smiles.

His grip begins to loosen. Slowly, the smile fades from his face. The light soon vanishes from his eyes. Mora bursts into tears. She leans over his body, stifling her sobs against his skin.

She doesn't know how long she sat there with her father-minutes? Hours? Days? Time no longer holds any perspective for her. She forces her tears to stop, her body to quit shaking. She makes herself look away from the empty vessel that was once her father. She rises to her feet and her body unconsciously does the rest. Her arms move without direction, pulling open the door. In the hallway, the sun shines brightly through the windows, the day continuing on without her father. She holds the bone knife tightly to her chest. When her feet stop, she forces herself to look around. The doctor rushes past her into the bedroom. Mora's eyes stop on Laren. Locking the pain down deep inside, she puts it away for a time when she has the luxury of dealing with it. Her voice comes out blank, all of the emotion drained out of her, "The King is dead. Sound the bells."

Her body carries her over to the bench where Laren is; he stands quickly and signals for a guard to follow her orders. Mora can feel her body defaulting into the perfect posture and she sees her hands folded neatly in her lap around the knife. Laren takes a knee in front of her, placing his fist over his heart.

"What are your orders, Queen Namora?"

She looks at her old friend. Queen Namora...yes, her father is dead, which means that she is now the Queen. She is not prepared for the responsibility but she doesn't have the leisure to find her courage; death waits for no one. She breathes deeply. Laren looks at her seriously, knowing what she is about to say. She doesn't recognize the voice that comes out of her mouth, "I declare war against Alumenia. We need to leave tonight—I have suspicions that King Irron isn't honorable enough to wait the week he said he would." Her body stands and starts walking down the hall, "I should address the townsfolk now."

"Perhaps," Laren rises to his feet, his calming voice stops her, "a change of clothing would be suitable, your Majesty?"

She looks down, remembering that the pants and revealing shirt she grew to know over the past few weeks isn't exactly proper attire for a Queen, "Yes, that is a very good idea."

"I'll let the handmaidens know. I will also have the guards announce your upcoming inauguration," he bows before walking away.

Mora turns and her body leads her towards her bedroom. When she reaches it, it seems like a place she hasn't visited in years. Without thinking, she changes into an underdress, putting her Sceduian clothing on the bed. Just as she sits down in front of a mirror, there is a soft rap on the door. Eunice enters, carrying a dark wooden box with hair items in it. She bows as best as her old back will let her. Mora smiles automatically, even though inside she is still sad, "It is nice to see you again, Eunice. I'm sorry to say you'll find my hair a mess."

"Not a problem, your Highness. Shall we do something fancy?"

She shakes her head, looking at her pale face in the mirror, "That won't be necessary. Something quick and simple will be fine."

As Eunice gets to work brushing out and twisting Mora's long hair, her mind wanders far away from her castle and back to the tavern in Sceadu. She fears for what Queen Sheynne will do to Rick for letting her go. Hopefully when she sees Mora and the Derven army arrive at the Meadow she will forgive him. She hopes she will see Rick again before the war. Her heart, broken from the death of her father, desperately needs something to love. She thinks of all that she has put everyone through over the past few weeks—her father, Laren, Franklin, Rick. A gentle squeeze on her shoulder brings her back to the task at hand.

"Will this be satisfactory?"

Mora stares at the mirror, unsure of the woman who looks back at her. With a pale face, dark eyes and brown hair swept up, she is sure that it isn't her when she sees the tall, delicate copper crown. Her hand hesitantly reaches up her own head, the woman in the mirror doing the same. It isn't the delicate, small copper crown with blue and red gems of the Princess but the tall, slightly tarnished crown with dangling rubies of the Queen. When she touches the cold metal, reality starts to sink in and she knows that the woman she sees before her is her reflection.

"Yes, thank you Eunice."

"Shall I help you dress?"

"That would be nice."

As Mora rises, she sees Eunice hold out a dark red dress; with its high cut neckline, tight fitting sleeves and long, billowing train. She slips easily into it and as Eunice laces up the back, Mora finds that it fits her like a glove. In the mirror, her reflection shows a woman that stands tall and confident with the elegant grace of a Queen, while Mora feels sick with worry and regret that she will do the wrong thing.

"You remind me of your mother, Namora," Eunice chokes out.

Mora smiles at her, thanking her with a quick hug. She walks out into the hallway, surprised at how the dress gives her the freedom of pants. Laren waits out there for her. A sincere smile crosses his old face when he sees Mora dressed as the Queen, his look affirming Eunice's compliment. He bows deeply, his hand floating down the hallway to the open balcony that looks over the city square, "Your kingdom awaits your Majesty."

Mora nods at him, walking towards the balcony. Without hesitation, she takes the stairs that lead down and out the front doors of the castle instead. Finally gaining a grip on herself, she feels that what she has to tell everyone—to ask of them—is too personal to announce from the lofty position above. She needs them to know that she is asking them to go to war as a citizen of Derven, not as their Queen.

Laren and the guards scramble to follow her, none dare asking why she is going out the doors. When Mora reaches the front steps and sees the town square, her breath is taken away. All of the people are dressed in red to show their support of their Queen. Having never lived when her mother was alive, it is a sight she has never seen. They all drop down to a knee, even the women and the children and with their hands on their hearts they look up at her for guidance.

She takes a deep breath and with the most confidence she can muster, she speaks to her people, for the first time as their Queen, "Citizens of Derven; it is with a heavy heart that I greet you as your Queen. King Nathanial is dead. Last night, an assassin from Alumenia tried and ultimately succeeded in taking his life," she pauses as the crowd whispers amongst themselves. When the chatter dies down, she continues, "As I am sure you all know, I have been stranded in Sceadu for the past few weeks. When I left you to go to Alumenia for my engagement party, a tree that had fallen across the road prevented us from getting to our destination. My escorts, Captain Franklin, Officer Jackson and Officer Gregory protected me as best as they could and for that I am grateful. After Officer Gregory sacrificed his life for me—it broke my heart. No matter who I am, no life is worth any more or less than mine. That is why I agreed to stay in Sceadu, so that no one else would have to die for me," she takes a deep breath, hoping she is saying the right things, "It was during my time there that I discovered King Irron had that tree cut down in hopes that I would die at the hand of Sceadu," the crowd gasps at the information, "Accompanied by Queen Sheynne and her son Prince Varickan, I met King Irron at the southern Meadow. He was displeased that the wedding had been called off and even more displeased that I discovered the truth. That is when he declared war against Sceadu."

Mora clasps her hands in front of her, looking down at the ground for a moment, "It saddens me that my first act as your Queen would be to declare war when it is against our way of being. That is why I will not," she looks up at the crowd's confused expression, "Tonight, I will ride back to Sceadu to help them in their fight against Alumenia. I will not make anyone join me but if there are any of you who wish to, you are most welcome." She waits patiently for the unorthodox news to sink in.

"What of Geofen?" A question comes from the back.

"I was able to convince Prince Philip, with my actions during the meeting with King Irron, that Sceadu was the just side to fight on."

"How did you do that, my Queen?" The familiar voice of Officer Jackson drifts up from the crowd.

Mora pauses a moment, discerning if it is right to tell the whole truth to her people. She decides that it is, "After King Irron directly threatened my life, I severed the muscles to his right arm with a dagger."

There is some cheering from the crowd before another voice floats above them, "What will we do if you do not return?"

"If I do not return, Advisor Laren will lead you until a suitable replacement can be found. I know that this is a very unusual way of doing things, but I have a debt to repay."

"What debt?"

"Prince Varickan saved my life and he also was the one who set me free so that I could return to you in this time of need," she waits a moment for more questions, but when there are none she finishes her speech, "I ride at sunset for any who wish to join me. For those who aren't able to get ready on such short notice, Advisor Laren will ride at dawn. Thank you, citizens of Derven, for your support."

She turns and goes back into the castle, letting a long breath exhale from her lungs. She isn't sure what to do for the next few hours but finds that her body leads her to the throne room. At the very back of the room, she takes a seat upon the lone chair at the top of several steps. Carved with painstaking detail, the single throne depicts images of all that is true to Derven. Sinking back into the soft blue cushions for the first time, she smiles when she sees the addition that her father had added; on the right arm of the chair is a face carved into the wood, bearing the likeness of her mother. After her death, the Queen's throne was removed from the room, placed carefully in storage until Namora would take her father's place. She wonders what carvings her mother had added to it.

When one of the attendants comes to check on her, she has him bring the satchel from Greystar. Opening the bag carefully, it is with a very sad heart that she finds a bottle of wine that Todd packed for her, along with her old hunting knife that Eric must have dropped off. She uncorks the wine and without bothering over the pomp and circumstance of a glass, she sips directly from the bottle, staring at the portrait of her mother, wondering what other secrets she never knew.

About an hour later, Laren enters the room. He stops before her and takes a knee while bowing his head slightly. Rising, he slowly walks up the steps, carefully reaching for Mora's wine bottle. Smelling its contents, he holds it at arm's length, "Whatever are you drinking, your Highness?"

She smiles, taking it back. After a long swig she speaks quietly, "While the Sceadu seem like a very rough kingdom of people, they have found a soft spot in my heart."

He shakes his head, sitting casually on the steps below her, "Shall I call for some dinner?"

"No, thank you. It will not be necessary."

The silence between them grows. Though she knows he watches her, she stares blankly at the bottle in her hands. She can see his shoulders slump; Laren interrupts the silence with his soft voice, "What has happened to the brush tiger of Derven."

"I am afraid I am not in the mood for poetry tonight, Laren," she sighs, her heart aching with unease.

"Then in plain words?"

She sips slowly, "I have fallen in love."

"Prince Varickan?" He says, more of a statement than a question as the answer is obvious.

She nods.

"You looked like you wanted to kill him that day in the woods," he points out.

"I did. The heart is a strange creature," she looks up to see him smile.

"Did you really stab King Irron?"

This time it is her who smirks, "Well not quite. I threw the knife at him. He did deserve it."

"You'll get no argument from me," he winks. Looking her over, he adds "If you are going to war, you will need to change."

Mora agrees, "I refuse to wear a dress into battle. Perhaps my hunting pants will do."

"The Queen has a set of armor," he replies, "I will send in Eunice to help you—she is the only one who knows how to put the damned thing on. Her mother helped your great great great grandmother do so." Laren rises, knowing that she wants to be alone; respecting her wishes, he bows before leaving the room.

She discovers another secret, not ever knowing that there was a set of armor for the Queen, just like she didn't know immortals existed or that her mother was one. With her eyes finally open to the world, she now sees that it has lost its glossy, pristine shine, instead it is tarnished with lies and enigmas. She holds no animosity to anyone—Mora doubts that before the arduous quest she would have been ready to handle all that has now been dumped on her. She drains the last of the wine from the bottle, setting it next to the throne. Briefly dozing off, she is awakened when Eunice arrives, accompanied by two soldiers carrying a large chest.