The Royals

Chapter 36

Alone in the deserted mountain pass, the unconscious Notti shouted, 'No, that's not how it happened! There was no dwarf.' His cries echoed down the hillside and no one answered him.

Inside the One's tent, Tabor and Theron, eyes taped wide, were bound and gagged in a corner.

The elfwitch muttered quiet words that rang harsh in Goatboy's ears. He gritted his teeth and reminded himself he had already failed to escape.

She slit the dwarf's throat without seeming to notice the falling body as she caught the thin blood in a basin.

Goatboy watched the life drain from the dwarf's face and felt a part of himself waning too. How could he simply stand by? Behind him, the brothers let out muffled screams.

The witch ignored them all as she told one of her sentinels, Clean up the dwarf. Be sure the bones are scrubbed free of all flesh. Whoever did the last ones left strings of meat attached.'

'Yes, mistress. It will not happen again.'

'No, it won't.'

The assistant cleared away the body, his own face nearly as grey as the dwarf's had been.

Goatboy's stomach lurched again, but still he remained rooted to his spot. He was achingly aware of everything that went on around him, including the large motionless elf who stood at the entrance with his sword drawn.

No one would leave without the elfqueen's permission.

This, too, was all wrong. The ceremony had been outside for everyone to see.

She waved her hand again and Tabor and Theron were brought forward and dropped at the elfwitch's feet. Unlike the dwarf, they had not been tortured and starved beforehand. It did not matter. The d**g drained their will to struggle.

The witch's words grew louder, though they made no sense to Goatboy. She poured the blood in a complicated circular pattern that made him dizzy.

The effect on the elves was nearly immediate. They writhed in pain on the floor. Goatboy stared as they changed shape from the familiar long-boned elves to bulky men-things he barely recognized.

She waited impatiently until the transformation was complete. 'Rise now.'

Intelligence peeked out of their eyes, but confusion dominated their expressions.

'Stand!' the elfwitch shouted.

Too slowly they attempted to reach their feet. The One held out her hand and her guard slapped the handle of a whip into it. She cracked the whip once on the face of each. Blood trickled down the surprised creatures.

'You will find I am not a lenient master.' She raised the whip again. 'Stand.'

This time, they moved more quickly and managed to regain their feet.

She nodded to the guard. He will show you what to do.'

The three shambled out.

The elfwitch smiled at Goatboy. 'Never disappoint me.'

The goatboy who was and wasn't Notti nodded. When she said nothing more, he ran from the tent, hand over his mouth. Closer to her than he would have liked he lost control and heaved.

It was a long while before he stopped. He could have sworn he heard the elfwitch laughing through most of it.

Goatboy sat back from the mess and closed his eyes. A steady snick-snick-snick brought him back to the world. Not ten steps away, an elf sat cleaning a large animal.

The man smiled. He tossed a small bone to Goatboy.

They say these are good luck.'

Thank you,' the young elf managed to get out through dry lips. He reached to pick up the bone and examine it. A stray bit of meat reminded him of the elfwitch's words. In horror he dropped the thing. 'Th-that's a f-finger!'

'Was indeed not too long ago.' He pointed his knife at the bone on the ground. 'Go on, take it. You look like you could use some good luck."

Goatboy tried to stall. 'W-won't th-the One be angry wh-when she f-finds out?'

The man spat into the tall grass beside him. 'Ah, the One won't know. She's not keeping tally. 'Sides, she's got plenty of the little ones.'

Goatboy's empty stomach gave another lurch. 'H-how many?'

'Fingers, toes, ribs, spines?' He shrugged. 'Don't know. I just clean 'em. I don't count 'em.'

'D-don't you m-mind?'

'Mind what, boy?'

'Y-you know.'

The elf stopped his work. He held up the partially skinned bone in one hand and the knife in the other. 'No different from cleaning fish - or goats. Once they're dead, there's nothing I can do to bring 'em back.' He returned to his chore.

Each snick of the knife as it scraped away flesh seemed a small stab in Goatboy's gut. 'Well, no, b-but...'

'First time, huh, kid?'

The elf assumed he meant observing a transformation. 'N-no, n-not exactly.'

'No?' He looked up in surprise, then understanding dawned. 'Oh, you mean that furry creature she turned into a man a while back. Sisters' truth, that don't amount to the same thing.' He laughed, dismissing the dragon. 'He wasn't no elf. Come to think of it, neither was this guy.' He took up his scraping once again.

'Listen here,' he said into the remains but addressing the boy. The man's voice held no rancor. 'You've got to forget about it. Sometimes it's hard when you knew the guy, but-' He shrugged again. 'Getting upset isn't going to change a thing. She's more powerful than all of us joined together, so might as well learn to do her bidding and enjoy it. Better that than... He let the thought trail away.

Goatboy didn't need a reminder of the options. He'd seen most of them first-hand ...

Far away, a frostbitten boy raved at his nightmare vision, 'But that never happened! I was already gone. I swear by the Seven I had nothing to do with that dwarf!'

Wanton Tom had a strange dream that night. He dreamed of a time he couldn't have seen, but somehow knew in his bones...

Ginni was birthed harsh and cold with no one to attend Roslin - whether by Roslin's choice he didn't know. The labor was long and hard. The mage seemed to resent every moment of it. She had no tolerance for weaknesses in anyone, including herself, and this seemed the ultimate betrayal of her body.

The delivery would have shaken Tom by itself. There were some things men weren't meant to see. b****y death they understood, but not b****y birth. Birth should be clean and easy, not a struggle more dangerous than war.

But the delivery was only part of the dream. After Roslin wrapped the child in a sacred cloth, the vision took a darker turn back to the cave where Ginni had found the bones. The infant child was crawling through the refuse, playing with the hallowed bones and transforming slowly from one creature to another. She was herself; she was a stableboy; a barmaid. She was Roslin, an elf, a dwarf, a troll, a dragon...

It was the last which woke him in a cold sweat. She held to some semblance of her true shape with all the others, but the dragon resembled a human not at all.