The Brush Tiger of Derven Ch. 30-31

At the far end of the table, Franklin sits beside Sari, Lucas with them as well. The three of them are discussing the traditions of Derven.

But the most surprising is Irving and Rick; the two are behaving more amiably than she ever imagined possible. Rick is quietly filling in Irving on the current politics between the nations, Irving casually asking questions as they arise. From time to time, Mora sees Rick's eyes flickering towards her though she makes it a point to avoid catching his gaze. She is still too confused about her sudden pull to Irving, about Rick's quick to anger attitude to know what the right choice is. For once her mind and her heart are in agreement—both men have virtues, both men have faults. And, at the moment, both men make her knees weak.

After they finish eating, they file into the library for a quick nightcap. With a glass of wine in her hand, Mora sits on the window ledge that overlooks the orchard, remembering her conversation with her father. It was the last time they were alone before he died. Her heart is heavy; though he kept many things from her, she still loved him deeply and she misses him dearly.

"Namora?" Irving's soft voice draws her out of her thoughts. When she turns her head, she discovers that he is standing right next to Rick, both men looking at her expectantly. "Can we have a moment?"

She nods briefly, her eyes turning to Rick when he speaks, "Irving and I have been talking about the tensions between the countries; it has become clear that you believe in the possibility of Sceadu and Geofen forming an alliance."

Looking at Irving for a moment, she stiffens; though her heart still yearns for Rick, the way he spoke when they spent the night together, his actions and response towards Irving has made her doubt where his loyalty lies. Aside from her outburst, she wouldn't have dared speak ill of Sheyenne to him; she words it as carefully as she can, "Both Wallace and Sheyenne expressed a nervousness upon discovering that Derven was capable of fighting for itself."

His piercing gaze doesn't leave hers, "I would say that's an understatement. Even if I didn't know my mother before, after seeing the way she manipulated both you and I it would be obvious that she craves power and will do whatever is necessary to obtain it. The only thing that saved you was the secrecy of Derven; I imagine if she realized how formidable you truly are, she would have done whatever she could to see you removed from the equation. I realize now, when I expressed my apathy towards her political games to you, how you took that as meaning I didn't care what happened to our lands. I care deeply for many things, Mora. I would like Sceadu to thrive once more and I will earnestly admit that it isn't possible while my mother holds the crown. She and Wallace are from a different era, just like Irron and your father; they will do what they need to in order to assure their rule."

Mora studies his face; she sees the earnestness behind his confession, the sorrow in his eyes that his poor choices had damaged their relationship. Her heart aches and yearns to be back in his embrace, though her mind still has its reservations, "Do you think Wallace and Sheyenne pose a threat to Derven?"

"To Derven and to you, Mora. I wouldn't put anything past my mother, though she'd be a fool to send an assassin after you."

"And what of Alumenia?"

Rick glances to Irving, "I will honestly admit that I am still unnerved at how much Irving looks like Irron. There is still a lot left that he needs to learn but having him take over the throne is about the best option there is. And," he turns back to her, "I have the utmost confidence in you, Mora. If this is what you wish, I will support you in the matter."

She nods slightly, "Prince Varickan, would you give Irving and I a moment?"

Rick's eyes drop immediately, sensing her caution of him still, "Of course, Queen Namora." He offers a slight bow before retreating to join one of the other groups.

Irving watches him go before he turns back to her, casually sitting on the window sill, "Perhaps I have overstep my bounds, Namora."

Drawing in a deep breath, she replies, "Not at all, Irving. You were taking the initiative like a King would and that is commendable."

"You do not trust him, still? Prince Varickan? Is it because of his mother?" He asks her outright.

"I...I don't know, honestly, it isn't that I don't trust Rick, I am just wary of his behavior. In a way he still has to learn what it is like to become a King, just like you; I just fear that his desire to fill that position isn't what it should be."

"He admitted to me what he said to you. It sounded like he spoke and acted before he thought about it."

"I would agree with that statement," she mumbles before sipping her wine, "Why the sudden interest in Rick?"

"Know thy enemy," Irving says, before shaking his head at her surprised look, "I'm not saying I have any enemies...yet. But I am not naïve, I realize that with the Alumenian crown comes a whole caravan of complications. While you and I might be on the same page and can ensure peace between our nations, I am afraid the same cannot be said about Sceadu and Geofen. And if Queen Sheyenne is as both you and Rick say, then I imagine she won't give up her thirst for power so easily after I become King."

Mora suddenly feels guilty that she thrust all of this upon Irving, "If Rick thinks that it is a possibility for Sheyenne to send an assassin after me, then no doubt your life will be at risk."

"Then we better train more tomorrow afternoon," Irving says, sipping back his brandy, "I'd be appreciative for any Derven you'd be able to spare as a guard for me while in Geofen and afterwards."

She smiles slightly, "Well, I will be with you in Geofen and Laren will remain at your side for a while; I dare say that we are the best guard you could hope for. None the less, I will have Franklin recruit some men for you."

Irving turns to her, his eyes wandering over her face, lingering for a moment on her lips before he speaks, "I wouldn't be opposed to you by my side after Geofen, Namora." When she looks away, he continues, "I realize that I'm being forward, I just want to make my sentiments clear to you now."

"You have, Irving," she says softly, her eyes flickering over to Rick.

"If you tell me you have no interest in me in that way, I will never speak of it again," he adds, with a somewhat dejected tone in his voice.

She turns to him, hesitating, "It isn't that I don't, Irving, it is just...not that simple."

When he looks at her again, she sees the look in his eyes that Rick gives her, the yearning, the adoration, the need to be with her and it makes her heart ache. 

CHAPTER 31: SOVEREIGN

None of them are able to stifle their yawns and soon Mora rises and heads for the door; everyone follows her without question as they too are all ready for a full night's sleep. In the hallway, Mora informs Irving of the large book on Alumenian policy that Laren left him, "I had it sent to your room. I am sure it is just what you need in order to ensure that you fall asleep quickly and get a good night's rest."

He smiles brilliantly at her, "I will give it my full attention, Namora." With little regard to those still around them, he takes her hand and gently kisses the back of it, "Good night, my Queen." With a quaint bow he departs ways.

Mora ignores the looks she gets, instead taking Amyee's arm in hers as they lead the procession down the hall. While the others break off towards their rooms, Rick hesitates in front of them; it is clear, he wishes to speak to Mora alone but as she has ensured her friend's presence, he is unable to.

Raising both hands, he offers her the jar of healing salve, "In case you still have injuries that are bothering you, my lady." His tone is just as sad as his eyes, his regret and yearning for her clear.

She takes the salve, nodding her head—her heart aches at his pain, though she is still uncertain about him, about them, about everything, "Thank you, Prince Varickan. Good night."

"Good night, Queen Namora," he says longingly before parting ways.

Amyee has the courtesy to wait until they are in her room before she speaks to Mora, "Are you ever going to tell me what is going on between you and the Prince?"

Mora sighs, unlacing the ties at the back of her dress so she can shed it and relax in her shift. Amyee does the same, pulling a brush out of her bag; she sits on the edge of the bed and combs through her hair while Mora speaks, divulging every detail of the time since she first left for Alumenia, though she leaves out anything regarding the immortals or the unknown mysteries left by her mother.

Amyee silently listens over the next few hours, her attention never wavering. When Mora finally finishes, her friend draws in a deep breath, "That is...an impossible choice. While Prince Varickan was the first to capture your heart, there is so much more that you don't know about him. And Irving, he is so kind, so thoughtful. I am sorry, Mora. What are you going to do?"

Mora rubs her face, joining Amyee in bed as the two lie back and stare at the velvet folds above them, "I haven't the slightest clue."

It isn't much longer before both women start to nod off, Amyee the first to succumb to slumber. While Mora feels the pull, she forces herself up and out of the bed. Carefully grabbing her dress and the jar of salve, she locates the hidden panel and navigates back to her room in the darkness of the small hallways.

Once there, she takes the time to rub the salve into her ribs and her hand, sighing as the cooling concoction offers her relief of her physical pain. Though she is tired, she feels suffocated by her bed chambers, discovering the antechamber does nothing more than draw her mind to the mysteries left behind by her mother. Sighing in exasperation, she pulls on a deep red robe, securing the belt around her waist before slipping her boots back on and escaping the castle through the hidden passages.

Greystar snorts in excitement upon seeing her, he immediately presses his weight against the stall door, trying to get out. She gently tugs on his ear to calm the beast before leading him from the stable and mounting him bareback, not bothering with a bridle or even giving the horse directions. He quietly trots through the landscape to the lone tree in the meadow, halting just beneath its barren branches. As soon as Mora dismounts, the horse drops down onto his knees before settling back; she eases herself down to the earth and tucks in against his side, feeling the warmth of him permeate into her. Breathing the fresh, crisp air, her gaze turns upwards to the waning moon, the dark night sky offering her comfort. Slowly, her body relaxes and she finds the sleep that evaded her.

Mora gets a few peaceful, uninterrupted hours before something wakes her; she takes care to remain still, though her heart is pounding. Peaking from behind her eyelids, she scans the tree line beyond the meadow, the hair on the back of her neck standing up as if she can feel someone watching her. Deep within the shadows, she can barely make out the glowing of green eyes focused on her being. Before she can respond, she hears the quiet rustling of paws crunching through dead leaves. The green eyes disappear and light, almost silent footsteps carry the large frame through the dark forest.

Slowly, she turns her head and gazes out into the trees until she spots the familiar shimmer of moonlight on the almost blonde fur of the tiger that followed her all those nights ago. Swiftly, she rises to her feet, drawing her hunting knife from her boot before she flies down the hill and into the forest. A smirk crosses her face as she comes up silently behind his large, crouched form; Eric is too focused on the tiger to notice her until she carefully places her cold blade under his chin.

"It is not a man's place to kill a brush tiger, Warden," she whispers into his ear. He huffs, holding up his hands in surrender. Mora chuckles and withdraws her knife, "May I ask why you are hiding in the woods in the middle of the night?"

Nervously, Eric glances back at the disappearing form of the tiger, "You aren't frightened for your own safety, Mora? It seems unnecessarily risky for the Queen of Derven to sleep under the stars while wild animals lurk in the woods beyond."

She sighs and turns, slowly walking with him at her side, "That tiger will not harm me. In fact, none of them will, I don't know what it is but they do not wish me dead."

"On the contrary, Franklin mentioned you were attacked in the woods when you went to retrieve Irving," he replies, begrudgingly sheathing his knife when she does the same.

"No, I was not," she says as they exit into the meadow and start the trek to her sleeping horse, "the tiger made a move on Irving, not me."

Mora settles her back against Greystar, nodding to the ground. Eric lowers his large frame before stretching out onto his back to stare up at the stars, "It is a bit unnerving to know that," he admits. He stares off into the night for a while before he clears his throat slightly, "Prince Varickan is sorry, you know."

She eyes him, "Of all people, I never imagined you to come to his defense, Warden."

He snorts, "I'm just as surprised as you are, Mora. Honestly, part of me always hoped he would fail, so that I would be there to take his place. But I know that you are not destined to be mine," he says with a tinge of sadness to his voice. "You deserve a great man, Mora. I am not entirely positive if Rick is a great man, but I do know that he is a much better one than me."

Drawing in a deep breath, Mora contemplates his sentiments, "It is not that simple, Eric. It never is. What I want, what is right for Derven and what will happen are not always the same thing."

"Spoken like a true ruler," he says. After a brief pause, he adds, "I see the way he looks at you. Irving. An alliance with Alumenia would be a huge strategic advantage, way more so than Sceadu."

"I am not looking for an advantage, Warden," she snips quietly, "I am simply trying to prevent the downfall of our society—short of marrying myself off to the bigger threat I feel like I am not in control of a single situation in my life." Her voice is bitter.

"I cannot imagine the weight on your shoulders, Mora," Eric replies. "I will be here for you, whatever you need."

"Thank you, Eric," she says softly. As the silence sinks in around them, she feels her eyelids grow heavy and she gives in to her urge to sleep.

The woods are dark. There are no stars in the sky, just the moon sulking in its loneliness. She knows, deep in her bones, that there are but a few more hours until the sun rises with its tentacles reaching rudely through the tree tops to touch every blade of grass, every particle of dirt, every fiber of her being.

Her body remains low to the ground as she runs almost silently through the forest, knowing the place she is searching for as it is the place she was born, the place they were all born, the place that gives life to the land and in turn life to all creatures. Her slender frame tenses and she uncoils her form, leaping high off of the ground and into a tree before bounding again up to the steep stone mountain that encases the land. She is barely able to catch the ledge, her muscles straining to pull her large body upwards, her back claws scratching into the stone for purchase.

She makes it, the cold autumn air burning in her lungs as she pants, yet her tiredness does not slow her down. Leaping, jumping from ledge to ledge she climbs higher and higher until she has almost reached the top of the cliff; hidden by a thicket of brush is an opening. She wiggles her lithe form into it, sliding past the vegetation to the large vast cavern just as the sun rises into the sky. Through holes in the stone high above, light trickles in, falling upon dark blue, almost black leaves that adorn the twisting and gnarled braches of a large, vast tree, revealing the richly colored red wood of its trunk. Surrounded by a dense thicket, hundreds of glowing eyes peer out to evaluate the newcomer.

Mora startles awake when Greystar shifts behind her and rises. Eric, tense, sits up quickly to look her over, "What is wrong, Mora?"

Her heart is racing in her chest; she shakes her head, trying to clear her scattered thoughts. It was just a dream, she tries to assure herself. When she realizes that she is shaking, she briskly rubs her arms, "Nothing, Warden. I am fine."

Eric isn't easily dissuaded, "Something is off...perhaps we should get you back to the castle."

Relenting, she nods and rises. They walk side by side in the silence of the early morning; no one has stirred yet, not even the sun. Eric accompanies her as she puts Greystar away, not satisfied until he walks her to her chamber doors.

As Mora pushes them open, she turns to Eric, her brow knitting together, "Eric, would you come in for a bit?"

He hesitates before tentatively replying, "If you wish it, yes."

She frowns, knowing that it is all untoward but cannot get her mind off of her dream, "There is something I need your help with."

Shutting the door behind him, she motions for him to follow her to the desk in the antechamber. Opening the wooden box upon it, she pulls out the large book of her mother's, turning it to the first page, "Advisor Laren thought this might be in ancient Sceaduian."

Eric's fingertips trace the parchment as his eyes skim over the words, "It is not," he says. He pauses for a moment, still examining it, "I don't think it is a language from any land but rather a cipher. If it was something of value that the owner meant to keep secret, that would be the most logical conclusion."

Mora sighs, "Of course, because there aren't enough mysteries as it is."

He snorts, a smirk on his face, "I am sorry I couldn't be of more help—" Immediately stopping, his eyes are glued on the open box, "Where did you get this?" He turns his furrowed, confused gaze to Mora.

She looks inside to see what has affected him so; pulling out the black wooden cylinder she turns to him, "Do you know what this is?"

"I don't know what it is, but I know what it is made out of," he gingerly takes it when she places it in his hands. "I can't imagine how this ended up in your possession but I have never seen this wood outside of the cave in which the tree that it comes from grows. That tree is viciously dangerous and nothing can cut through it."

"The cave of darkness," she whispers, looking at the object with new found wonderment once he gives it back, "you are certain?"

"Oh yes," he says. "Not many are allowed entry into that cave, only the royal family determines who has the privilege. I am one of five wardens who accompany the men to harvest the sap. It is a frightening place, even to the most steadfast." He shudders slightly at the memory of it. Mora looks at him curiously, knowing the place must truly be frightening if Eric has fear of it.

Silently, she looks at the cylinder in her hand and begins to piece the mysteries together, "Thank you for your help, Warden. Perhaps you would like to get some rest before midday meal?"

"Of course," he says, offering her a short bow before he turns to leave.

"Eric?"

"Yes?" He pauses at the door looking back at her.

"Please don't mention this to anyone," she feels her heart beating a shade faster, worried about the thoughts in her head.

"That goes without saying, Mora," he replies softly before leaving.

Alone again, she stares down at the cylinder in her hands. A fleeting thought crosses her mind; she leans down and draws her hunting knife from her boot. Carefully, she pricks her thumb with the tip of the knife, watching the bright red blood rush to the surface of her skin and collect into a large drop. Mora rotates the cylinder until she feels the intricate carving of a tree in the middle of it, then, she presses her thumb into the engraving, her blood smearing onto the wood.