Lost & Found

Xenik had been plagued for months now by the demoness that had once saved his life. Countless physicians had been called to assess his claims of madness, even though his father was convinced that his ravings were a ploy to put off the inevitable. Each one tried to assure him that he was perfectly healthy and that maenads weren’t real. They were creatures of myths and legends from the southern kingdoms. Mere ghost stories, used to scare people out of trying to traverse through the treacherous Cithaeron Wilds. The dense woods held enough dangers without needing wild women roaming through them like demonic sprits that hunted and killed all those that would dare trespass into their home. But they weren’t just stories to him, not anymore. Every time he closed his eyes she was there. Unnaturally red curls that swirled around her face like flames that refused to burn her flesh and glowing green eyes that rivaled the mischief of a cat’s, haunted his thoughts and dreams. She didn’t have the rows of sharp teeth or monstrous talons like stories claimed. But she did have strange blue markings that covered her body in intricate patterns, patterns that he found himself trying to draw on parchment any time his mind wandered while he held a quill. And she could handle a weapon better than most of the soldiers he knew. Now his obsession was spilling over into the waking world. His heart was beating so fast he thought it might burst out of his chest. If he’d been smart, his feet would’ve rooted him in place until he came to his senses. But the t****l of the spell she’d weave into his soul would not let him ignore the possibility that she was here. It’d just been a flash of red among the throng of people bustling about the great hall, but it had to be her. It was just his luck that he’d returned home from his misadventure in time to attend the Quinquennial Harmony Accords. The six month long celebration of peace among the kingdoms of the continent for the last two hundred years was what all these eligible young noblemen and women had waited the last five years for. This was the best time to make business deals and find exceptional candidates for marriage. His bad luck continued when his father decided that he had to choose a bride among this mob of delicate, mild mannered, thoroughbreds attending or have one chosen for him. None of them would do, not when he was descending into the madness the maenad had infected him with. Not when she was hovering just out of reach. He stumbled across the room searching for another flash of color to pull him in the right direction. The sea of people milling about blocked his path and tried to distract me. Several ladys tried to grasp his attention as he pushed through the crowd, and just as soon as he thought he caught a glimpse of her, she was gone again. He swore a small string of profanity under his breath causing the ladys around him to blush and hide their faces behind their hands or fans. None of them could cure him, and he’d make a terrible match for them. He apologized, pushing his way back the way he’d come to escape their flirtations and stares. “Xenik!” his head swung back around to find the familiar voice that called his name. It wasn’t hard to spot Malchom pushing his way thru the crowd. He stood over a foot taller than most of the ladies and almost a head taller than most of the other lords. Xenik pushed the consuming thoughts of madness to the back of his mind and put on a smile for his old friend, “Mal! I see you couldn’t escape this season either?” His broad smile helped to distract Xenik’s wandering mind as he made his way to him, laughing, “Don’t look so glum Nik; it’s supposed to be a celebration.” He looked about the crowed room and leaned in closer so no one else could hear him, “Looks like all the kingdoms of the continent sent their best stock this year, I’ve already suffered whiplash a handful of times just trying to get to you.” He laughed heartily and took another appraising look around the room. “I heard there was even a delegation from Anatolia, this year.” He looked around excitedly as if trying to find them. Xenik’s heart stopped cold. That kingdom rarely came to the Quinquennials, and they never hosted the event. The Anatolians were reclusive; in fact, most people never met an Anatolian in their lifetime as the country was protected by the Caucasian Mountains and the Cithaeron Wilds. The only safe way in or out was by sea. Had they sent a delegation because of his unexpected visit to their capital when his maenad delivered him back to civilization instead of killing him? It would have been better if she’d killed him. But maybe that was their secret. They drove you mad until you couldn’t take it anymore and you killed yourself. Then and only then they’d materialize from the shadows to finally devour you. Had she traveled with the delegation to torment him further? “Gods, Nik, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. It can’t be that hard to find at least one jewel to adorn your mantle and entertain you among this glittering sea,” he elbowed me in the ribs, chuckling. “Come now, we can narrow your choices in half. Do want to start with a dark or fair haired beauty first? I heard that Borussaians are quite lively.” Xenik groaned looking back out over the growing crowd, “It won’t matter in the end.” Malchom gave him a harsh look. “No games for me this time I’m afraid. My father actually expects me to be wed by the end of the year.” He gasped in horror, “You’re barely to turn twenty-four this year. Surely he knows that this is the time to sow your wild oats, not settle down and breed.” He wiggled his eyebrows at the ladys around them that gasped in shock at his crude language. A few looked like they might even feint. Xenik clapped him on the shoulder, “You’ll have to sow without me, as his majesty will not withdraw or waiver. He’s of a mind that I should’ve had heirs a plenty running around already,” he let out a heavy sigh. He didn’t want any of these perfectly primped and coifed women, not when one still held his mind captive. He needed to find that enchantress and make her break her spell or one of them had to die this time. He turned away from the crowded hall and stared out the window to look out at the carriages still arriving. He couldn’t chance catching sight of her again while Mal was sure to follow after him if he gave chase. “He can’t make you choose…” Malchom was intent on seeing how many ladies they could try to seduce as usual. “He can and I must, or he will choose one for me.” The horror on his face was real this time. “I see why you look so glum. This is not a celebration but your funeral.” Xenik nodded in agreement. She should’ve killed him. He wished she’d killed him. Why hadn’t she killed him?