The Kingdom Pt. 02

Staggering forward as if falling, the King surprises his opponent with another attack, ignoring his wounded leg. His blade knocks the Duke's aside and pierces his shoulder. The maneuver, however, lands him on the ground as his leg gives way. Immediately, he rolls to the side to avoid a counterattack, but the Duke reacts quickly, his blade biting into the bottom of the King's upper arm.

Coming to his feet, the King holds his sword out with his one good arm while the other hangs loose, covered in blood. Likewise, the Duke grips his sword with his one good hand, the other useless thanks to his ruined shoulder.

One man limping, and one man bent over from a wounded gut, they lock gazes and try to catch their breath, each more determined than they were before. Each assesses their strategy, seeking an advantage over his opponent, while trying to prevent the other from exploiting their own weakness.

The Deceiver, making his own assessments and predictions, lurks nearby, his form present but insubstantial.

It all comes down to each man's mobility and the weight of their blade. The Duke, while nursing a moderately bad wound to his stomach, is more agile and is wielding a lighter sword.

His attack, while not particularly graceful at this point, is quick and relentless, able to work its way past the King's heavier blade, then straight through the right side of his chest. The sound of the King's sword hitting the floor sends a chill of panic down my spine as the man himself stumbles into the Duke.

As the King looks painfully into the Duke's eyes, he opens his mouth and tries to speak, likely to warn him about the crown and the Deceiver, but he can't seem to take a deep enough breath to make any sound. Instead, I hear the Duke speak.

"You see?" he sneers at the King. "I am worthy."

A warning bell goes off in my head, letting me know I need to make it to the crown first. But the Deceiver is already there standing behind the King, wearing a look of triumph and anticipation, waiting for the King to breathe his final breath.

I must stop him! I must stop them both!

But when I try to pass through the archway, I am prevented by some invisible barrier. I desperately try to push my way through, but to no avail. Helplessly I watch as the King's life pools on the floor below him.

The Duke grins in victory at what he sees as his greatest achievement in life, but then the cruel smile leaves his face, replaced by a look of shock and disbelief.

He looks down at something near his left side, but I'm unable to see what it is because the King's body, still holding on to the Duke, is blocking my view.

In seemingly one motion, the King falls to his knees with the Duke's sword still buried in his chest and protruding grotesquely from his back, while the Duke slumps to the floor, landing on his side, his cold, dead eyes staring at nothing. From his left side protrudes a dagger, precisely driven into his heart by the King.

The King remains on his knees another minute or two, as if communing with some higher power, before collapsing to the floor. His face is earnest and his lips move, silently pleading, as he locks gazes with me. I can only nod at him mutely, but it seems to be enough. A look of contentment washes over him before he breathes his last and leaves his burden behind.

The barrier vanishes and I fall through the archway, landing hard on my hands and knees. As I gain my feet, I can see already that I'm not going to reach the crown before the Deceiver. He's already bending over to pick it up.

In a desperate move, I pull out one of my throwing knives and let it fly. It hits the Deceiver in the neck, except it doesn't, passing right through him instead.

He turns to look at me, annoyance and murder in his eyes. His essence solidifies and the edges of his form clarify the moment before he picks up the crown and places it on his head.

An overwhelming feeling of defeat floods through me.

"You!" he shouts, reaching for the dagger impaled in the Duke's side, his intent clear.

Then I see movement beyond him, a small form dashes from behind the throne and reaches him in the space of two heartbeats.

It's Micaelah.

She thrusts something into his hip as she runs past him and towards me at full speed.

Unfazed, the Deceiver straightens up, now wielding the bloody dagger, and yells, "Come back here you little bitch!"

He begins to pursue her, but stops. Then I watch in horror as he plants his foot and throws the dagger.

I sprint towards Micaelah in a desperate attempt to reach her first. She's so close. I reach out to grab her so I can push her out of the way, but she stumbles, falling sideways into my arms instead. One of her arms gets trapped between us while the other closes around my neck.

"Micaelah!" I cry, looking down at her face. She looks up at me with tears in her eyes, but she's smiling.

As I hold her, I feel wetness where my hand is on her lower back. Lifting it up, I see it's covered in blood. A sob escapes my lips and I hear myself repeating, "No. No. No. No. No..."

"Shhhh..." she tells me. "It's going to be okay Quill." She places her free hand on my cheek and kisses me gently.

All I can do is stare at her dumbly, my heart silently pleading.

She smiles back at me. "Do you know why it's going to be okay?" She asks.

I shake my head, not understanding how such a thing could be true.

"Because I love you," she answers, her voice weak.

"I love you Micaelah," I sob.

"I know you do." More of her tears fall. "But there are others that we both love, others who love you too. So you need to finish this," she tells me, bringing her hand up from between our bodies.

She's holding something, but I'm too focused on her face to see what it is.

She opens her hand, and in a voice now barely above a whisper, she says, "You need to stop him."

I don't understand. How I can possibly defeat the Spirit of Evil who's wearing a crown that makes him invincible? Then she carefully places in my hand what she's been holding, and closes my fingers around it.

It's a narrow, metallic cylinder, perhaps eight inches long.

At the same time, I notice a figure looming over us, holding the King's massive sword above his head. As he brings it down in a powerful arc, guaranteed to sever Micaelah and I in two, the meaning behind Micaelah's words becomes clear.

The shadow of the blade falls across our faces and I want nothing more than to close my eyes and let it claim us together, but that's not what Micaelah would want me to do.

"Stop," I annunciate clearly, for her sake, though my heart isn't in it. She smiles up at me one last time before her eyes close and her body relaxes in my embrace.

Numb, I gently move a few rebellious strands of her beautiful red hair away from her face. She looks content, as if this was where she was always meant to be.

I hold her and I cry, because right now, there's nothing else I can bring myself to do.

§ 27 - Culmination

Everything seems meaningless now. Time seems merely a trick my mind has been playing on itself. Consequently, I have no idea know how long I sit on the floor cradling Micaelah's body before I become aware of others in the room.

Jolie crouches next to me and removes the dagger, throwing it as far from us as she can. Then she coaxes me to move out from under the blade, frozen in mid-swing, before wrapping her arms around both of us and adding her tears to mine.

Fiona comes next, crying, followed by Finn. Both apologize over and over for not being able to save her. I glance around and notice a dozen or more arrows scattered about the floor, most of them broken in half.

I also notice the room is unusually quiet considering the battle that was raging between the Carnelian soldiers and Knights of the Temple just a short time ago. Looking toward the doors, I see men from each side standing next to each other, their weapons littering the floor, forgotten, a few despairing over their own fallen comrades.

From amongst them, the rest of my companions emerge, walking towards us. When they've come half the distance, Lisbeth realizes what's happened and breaks into a run.

Jolie backs away to make room for Lisbeth, who drops to her knees and slides the last few feet. I allow her to take Micaelah into her arms. She wails in agony as she holds the lifeless body of her closest friend.

I somehow get to my feet and allow Teritha to embrace me, where I cry like a baby all over again. Jolie joins us, as do Corinne and Kendric, and we all stand together, mourning our mutual loss.

When finally we've no more tears to shed, temporarily at least, an overwhelming power suddenly surges through the Temple. Light seems to come from everywhere all at once, blinding everyone present.

As the radiance lessens, I open my eyes to see a figure sitting on the throne. It's the Spirit of Good, except she's no longer an old woman. She rises and walks towards us, her beauty and grace beyond comprehension.

"You have done well," she tells us. "Far beyond what any could have hoped for, yet costing more than you could have imagined." Her eyes shift to Micaelah, still being held by Lisbeth.

"While it may not lessen your own sorrow, know that I feel the pain even more than you," she confesses as she weeps openly. "But also know that Micaelah is not lost. Bring her to me."

I kneel down and gently take Micaelah's body from Lisbeth. Together we stand and carry her to the Spirit of Love, who places her hands on Micaelah and says something in a language I've never heard before, yet the meaning is still somehow clear.

Micaelah's body suddenly becomes light as a feather, then takes on an etherealness as it slowly disappears, then reappears as the Micaelah we all love next to the Spirit. Except she's even more beautiful than she was before, smiling at us, her face filled with immeasurable joy.

A sob escapes my lips, but Micaelah steps forward to place her finger on my lips, as gently as a warm summer breeze.

"Shhhh..." she tells me. "I told you it was going to be okay Quill." Her face fills with wonder. "Somehow my love for you is even greater now. For all of you," she says, looking at each of us in turn. "More complete. More real. I never imagined such a thing was possible."

"It will continue to grow," the Spirit adds. "And it will never end."

Micaelah hugs the Spirit tightly. "Thank you."

The Spirit hugs her back affectionately before saying, "Excuse me for a moment."

She walks to the King and gazes down at his limp form. "You fought the good fight. Now accept your reward." She kneels down to place her hands on him, and he too shimmers, disappears, then reforms, standing next to Micaelah.

His gratitude is so obvious and so immense, at first he is unable to speak. Instead, tears of joy, and grief, pour from his eyes.

"All is well," the Spirit assures him. "All has been forgiven."

The King, no - the man, whose name I don't even know, falls to his knees and wraps his arms around the Spirit. She holds his head fondly as he weeps.

Composing himself, he gets to his feet and turns to me. "Thank you," he says.

I'm not sure how to respond to that so I just nod.

"What about my father," Jolie asks, then looks at me and adds, "Our father."

"I'll send him somewhere... appropriate," the Spirit answers. "He will finally receive exactly what he wanted, but I don't think he's going to like it." With a wave of her hand, the Duke's body vanishes into mist and dissipates.

"There's one more thing left to do," the Spirit says, glancing toward the Deceiver, still frozen in mid-swing like a statue depicting some ancient battle. "He cannot remain here in the Temple. And neither can that crown or that rod you hold."

"But what can I do?" I ask. "Should I send him to the top of a mountain and command him to stay there?"

"No. He will remain permanently substantial now until he is slain. Someone may find him and kill him, for he will be vulnerable should someone challenge him. If you aren't there to control the victor with that rod, they would be free to wreak havoc upon the world."

"Then he and the crown need to be imprisoned somewhere no one can find them," I conclude.

"Yes," she agrees.

Together, my companions and I suggest different ideas.

Toss him in the ocean. But even if the Deceiver drowns, the crown might wash up on a beach somewhere.

Have him jump into a volcano. Even though we've heard of them, none of us actually know where one is, or if they actually even exist. Besides, you can't command the crown wearer to commit suicide.

Fiona actually comes up with the only practical solution. "If it were up to me, I'd send him down to the middle of that cavern and tell him to stand still until those monsters each claim half. It's unlikely anyone would find what's left of him down there."

So that's what I do. Fiona goes with to keep me company while I make sure the deed is done. The rest remain behind to say their goodbyes to Micaelah.

Although I know Jolie cares about Micaelah too, I think her and Finn would also have come with Fiona and I if Jolie wasn't so hesitant about being underground so far again.

First, I tell the Deceiver to never speak to another human again, just in case. Then we make our way back down into the depths of the earth.

Fiona and I only go as far as the end of the tunnel where it collapsed into the cavern. From there, I command the Deceiver to make as little noise as possible as he carries two lit torches, two hundred feet towards the middle of the gargantuan space, before extinguishing them and crowing like a rooster.

It doesn't take long.

His scream is brief, but satisfying.

While we're gone, Jolie, with Finn's help, sent the entire Carnelian army home after explaining to them how her father had been tricked and lied to by his spymaster, not only about her alleged treason, but also that the Duchy of Jasper and the Duchy of Beryl were never their enemies, and never had any intention of attacking the Temple.

Then, through well-fabricated tears, she shared the sad news of his death at the hands of the Temple's guardian.

Most of the Troops looked relieved. A few grumbled about the forced march and the meager rations, but soon enough they all gratefully turned around and headed home.

The Knights of the Temple all awoke as if from a dream, not remembering how they got there. The Spirit said the Deceiver had the power to sway the hearts of some men completely, so she wasn't surprised.

To the man, and a few women, they gratefully accepted the Spirit's offer to remain in service to the Temple, especially after hearing about some of the benefits that came with their loyalty.

Fiona and I walked back to the Temple in silence. At some point, she took my hand in hers, as if to assure me I wasn't alone. It reminded me so much of something Micaelah would have done, that I cried, then smiled, then realized that Micaelah was right. Things are going to be okay, even if it might take a while.

By the time we reach the others again, afternoon is fading into evening. The Spirit advises us to remain for the night so we'll be well-rested on our journey home. We too, graciously accept her offer.

§ 28 - Consolation

I lay in a huge bed, in the room provided to me, alone with my thoughts. I can't help but reminisce, trying to remember every moment I had with Micaelah. Every word. Every motion. The way she smelled. The way she tasted. The feeling of her holding me after my nightmare. The way she felt in my arms.

As if my thoughts alone summoned her, she appears, sitting cross-legged on the foot of my bed, wearing the robe and slippers Teritha gave her for her birthday.

"I already miss you so much," I whisper.

"I know Quill. You'll think of me often, and you'll miss me every single moment you do. And that's okay. But I don't want you to be alone. You have so much love to give. Teritha, Lisbeth and Jolie are your sisters and they all love you so much. Corinne & Kendric too."

"I know, but I wish I could hold you one more time."

As she smiles at me fondly, she cocks her head slightly as if listening to the voice of some unseen speaker, then tells me, "I've been given permission. Would you like me to stay with you tonight, Quill?"

Choking up, I nod, thinking she means to stay sitting where she is and watch over me while I sleep, but then I feel the bed move as she crawls forward and into my arms. After giving me a long, sweet kiss, she snuggles into my arms where I hold her until I eventually fall asleep.

When I wake up the next morning, sunlight is streaming through the small window in the wall above my head, and she's still in my arms. It feels so perfect, so right, that I never want to let her go.

Sensing that I'm awake, she stirs and turns her face to look up at mine.

"Good morning Quill," she greets me quietly, almost questioning.

I meet her gaze, smile, then bequeath her a soft peck on her forehead, then on her lips. "Good morning Fiona."

The End