to be a god, part 4

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Rising from her throne she walked towards the inert body of King Regglind.  He wasn’t dead, yet.  She knew that.  She hadn’t hit him with the full force of her might.  As she drew closer she said, “I have a rule in battle.  No mercy.  No survivors.  It has served me while on the path to my glory, to my ultimate purpose.  I’m tempted to send you home beaten and battered though, to dishearten your troops.  I think they might be easier to beat that way.  If I martyr you, they will likely fight against me with more energy, tooth and nail, to the very last man.”

Smoke drifted up from the burn marks on his body.  Slowly, he rolled over onto his back so he could look at her.  He said nothing but his eyes spoke volumes.  His piercing gaze was unafraid for himself, but furious for his people, furious for what was about to befall his kingdom.  His breathing was ragged and shallow.  His face white.

“A rule is a rule though, especially when it was made to myself.  Besides, there’s no telling what your people will decide to do when you do not return.”

She held his gaze as she spoke the single word of magic that would end his life.  The spark and fury went from his eyes in an instant. 

Turning to her advisor she said, “Kill his retinue waiting outside.  No mercy.  No survivors.”  Then she turned first to her throne, shook her head, and strode across the hall to the table where her maps were.  One of her generals was already there studying King Regglind’s kingdom anew.  The fool of a king had made a mistake in thinking she would hold to some code of honor.  Now they could capitalize on that and advance her plans that much quicker.

Soon the whole continent would be in her grasp.  Then she would build glorious yellow ships, the color of their star, and sail the seas to conquer the other continents.  Then she would rule the whole of the world.  Then she would be a god.

Smiling already, her smile broadened as her advisor returned to say the task had been completed.  “Summon a messenger.”

She would cast a spell of protection over the messenger and speed him along to King Regglind’s court, inviting all to attend the king’s funeral services in four days time.  They would be fools to come.  But their king had proved to be a fool so maybe she could catch some more of his warriors in a trap. 

Still smiling, she returned to studying the map.

to be a god, part 3

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

King Regglind, resplendent in purple and silver silks, but with a simple gold crown on his head and well-worn scabbard at his side, strode into her thrown room.  His steps were confident.  His head was high.  His eyes were a piercing blue.

The herald had to nearly shout to be heard over the King’s ringing bootfalls, “King Regglind, your majesty.”

She studied his approach, still trying to decode what his plan was, why he had decided to come in person and request this audience with her.  As he came to a halt a few paces away she said, “Welcome, King Regglind.  What can I do for you on this fine day?”

Before answering he studied his surroundings, taking in the various courtesans and advisors, generals and other members of court scattered about the large throne room.  Then he let his left hand rest on the hilt of his sword while sweeping the room with his right.  “I was surprised they let me in to see you with my sword.  I see you are well protected, now, though.”

The sarcasm in his voice was not lost on her but she chose to ignore it.  Let him think she wasn’t well protected.  Let him think she needed the people around her.

“I will admit,” she said a moment later, “ that I was surprised by your visit.”

“Yes, well,” he half grunted, half growled, “I never send someone to do a job like this.  It’s unpleasant.  It could be messy.  And it’s got to be done right.”

“And what job is that?” She arched her eyebrows as she asked, glad they weren’t wasiting time on pleasantries and getting straight to the reason for his visit.

“If you attempt to invade my kingdom again, you will lose everything.”

She nearly laughed.  This threat couldn’t possibly be all he had come for.  He had to have more.

“King Regglind, I do believe you are mistaken.  When I next breach your borders I will conquer your kingdom and it will be you who loses everything.”

He attempted to draw his sword but scowled and swore as he found his hand unable to left the blade form the scabbard.  It was a simple enough charm she had placed upon the throne room years before.  No weapons could be unsheathed in the room. 

“In fact, she continued, I’m fairly certain you are about to lose everything right now.  You were a fool to come here.”

“You wouldn’t dare attack me like this,” he spat.  “It breaks all the rules of honor.”

“There are not rules between mortals and immortals,” she replied calmly.  “For what I’m after, there is no room for honor.”  Then turning to her advisor she said, “And yet another advantage of killing all our advisories, there is no one left alive to take back the information that I’m a magic user.”

“Very wise, “Ma’am,” her advisor returned.

Pointing her right hand at King she spoke the words to her second favorite spell.  Lightning raced from her finger tips and slashed into the King.  His body went flying backwards in a tumbling heap of limbs and clothes. His crown skittered across the floor to come to a stop near the entrance.

to be a god, part 2

Continuing on with one of the song lyric prompts I wrote in November, this month I’m sharing a bit more I’ve written for it. Enjoy!

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

“Ma’am?”

“Yes?”

“King Regglind is requesting an audience.”

She looked up from the battle maps she’d been studying in surprise.  “He’s here?”

Her advisor nodded once.

Pushing back from the table she closed her eyes in thought.  Was this a trap?  Was King Regglind foolish enough to actually come in person, to so easily get within her grasp?  Could he possibly have a bargaining chip that would allow him safe passage back to his kingdom?  She didn’t have great answers to any of these questions.

For months she had been attacking his borders hoping to provoke him to come out and face her.  The King hadn’t taken the bait, though.  Disappointed but not deterred from her purpose, she had pulled back her troops to squash a smaller nearby kingdom.  One of the few small kingdoms still free of her control.  She had stormed their borders and easily wiped aside the small force that had been raised to stand against her.  Soon the rest would fall and then only her own growing kingdom and Regglind’s would remain on the continent.  Once she had full control, then she could look across the seas.

“Ma’am?”

But why had Regglind come in person.  To try and talk her out of her plans?  To ask for mercy?  Her lips twitched at the thought.  There would be no mercy if that’s what he was after.  That felt wrong though.  King Regglind was a strong and honorable leader.  His people loved him.  He would not hand them over.  He would not give up his kingdom without some kind of fight.  That was her guess.  She was very confident in it.  So what was his play today?  Why come in person?

He must have some kind of leverage.  What could that be, though?  She had no personal attachments.  She had no secret past that could be exploited.  Her people knew who she was, who she had always been, and what her ultimate purpose was.

“Ma’am?”

Sighing, she opened her eyes and addressed her advisor.  “Show him in.  Let’s hear what he thinks he has up his sleeves.”

the raven

This week’s post is based on lyrics from the song Love Minus Zero / No Limits by Bob Dylan.

“The wind howls like a hammer,

The night blows cold and rainy,

My love she’s like some raven,

At my window with a broken wing.”

….

Photo by Tom Swinnen on Pexels.com

The wind slammed against the side of the house and sucked at the eaves, whistling and pounding in equal measure.  He nudged the blinds enough to see out into the darkness beyond his window.  There was nothing out there but the wind driven leaves sailing in torrents away from the oak tree that stood prominently in his front yard.  Nothing should be out there.  It was too nasty, too wild.

She was, though, out in the weather.  She was on one of her adventures, reveling in the power of nature, walking the dark streets, soaking it all in.  She loved evenings like these.  He didn’t think he’d ever understand why even if, as he hoped, they were together for the rest of their lives.

He released the blinds and turned away from the window.  His thoughts swirled through the beautiful chaos of their two years of dating.  Things had been rocky at first.  She’d been so different from anyone he’d ever known, let alone attempted to date.  He’d nearly called things off very early on but there had been something about her, too, that had made him want to be patient and see what happened next.  Their dates weren’t always exciting, but she was and her stories were, and her passion for life was infectious.  As the dates progressed he’d learned to just ride the storm, as he’d come to think of it. 

The beat of the wind changed and rain began to pummel the roof in torrents.  He flicked aside the blinds again but his view was obscured by the water running down the glass.  Sighing, he turned away once more.

After the first couple dates, he’d learned pretty quickly to let her be.  She wasn’t playing the normal dating games, she wasn’t on her best behavior, she wasn’t trying to be anybody other than who she was.  It was refreshing, even if it was terrifying at times.  He’d never known anyone so wild, so free, so in love with living, so comfortable in their own skin.  At some point, also fairly early on, he’d realized that she would very likely walk away one day and that would be the end.  He was too different from her, with his need for routine, and his overall conformity.

But the months passed, the dates began to last longer and become more elaborate, he went on some of her adventures, and she moved in.  She must have seen something in him she felt was worth sticking around for because she always came back.   

The wind slammed against the side of the house, shaking the walls and rattling the rain splashed windows.  He instinctively pushed aside the blinds, searching the darkness for any sign of her.  He knew it was childish.  He knew she’d be fine out there.  But he couldn’t help it.  He was happy when she was happy, but that didn’t keep him from worrying.

The gust subsided and the sound of the rain dominated again.  He let the blinds fall back into place but didn’t turn away.  He could picture her dancing, literally dancing, through the puddles, waltzing with the wind, the trees bowing and clapping as she swirled by.  She wasn’t a leaf, though.  She wasn’t beholden to the wind.  No, she was like a raven, a dark haired beauty, wild and free, working with the storm to get to where she needed to be.  Sometimes that was an adventure.  Sometimes that was home. 

The door opened, startling him from his thoughts, and she stepped through the entryway, easing the door shut slowly, letting that last bit of the storm swirl around her and into the room.  She was radiant.  She was amazing.  He rose from the couch to take her coat and ask her all about the storm.  The smile in her eyes told him she had some great stories. 

cheyenne

This week’s post is based on the following lyrics from Beaches of Cheyenne by Garth Brooks:

“Nobody can explain it, some say she’s still alive.  They’d even claim they’ve seen her on the shoreline at night.”

…..

Photo by Franko on Pexels.com

His glass slipped on the counter ever so slightly, drifting in the pool of condensation as the humidity and cold glass worked their science.  He caught it before it could slide to the edge and moved it to a coaster.  With a heavy sigh he leaned away from the bar and closed his eyes.  Tired.  That’s all it was.  He rubbed his eyes and then leaned forward to cradle his glass for a moment before downing its contents in two large gulps.

Sam came over and replaced the beer with a fresh one.  “You look more haggardly than normal, everything okay?”

“I saw her again,” he mumbled in response, his eyes lost in the swirls of the amber liquid.

He’d told Sam about the woman before.  He’d seen her a few times, late at night while working the docks, walking along the shore, walking on the surface of the water, and had mentioned it to Sam after he’d had a few drinks one night after his shift.  He’d expected to be laughed at but had felt compelled to share the story anyway.  Perhaps he’d thought that getting it out In the open and having it be ridiculed would help him shake it from his mind.  It hadn’t worked.

Sam had believed him and had heard about the woman from other workers before.  Plus, he kept seeing her.  Kept watching her walk along the shoreline, impossibly striding across the breakers, only to disappear.  It proved impossible to doubt it.  He knew what he was seeing was real.  It was some kind of real he didn’t understand but real all the same.

Sam placed his elbows on the bar and leaned close so they could confer without being heard.  “She see you?”

“Nah.  She’s too far away to take any notice of me.”

“Some of the stories I’ve heard say that she’ll talk to you if she keeps letting herself be seen.”

“How can that be, Sam?”

“Some say she’s still alive, somehow.  Whatever she is.  She can do impossible things.”

He took a drink, not wanting to go down this rabbit hole of a conversation again.  It let to too many damn questions.  Who was she?  Why was she out there?  How could she do what she did?  Why was he able to see her when so many others couldn’t or didn’t?  And what did it all mean?  No.  He’d climbed down into that hole of unanswerable questions before and had no interest in doing so again.

Though, taking another drink, he found himself wondering what her voice sounded like.

Cursing under his breath, he set his glass back on the bar and frowned at Sam.  The bartender laughed and walked away to refresh another glass.

For the next hour he pushed the woman from his thoughts.  Then he paid his tab and started for home.  Instead of walking the direct route he took a detour down towards the ocean.  He didn’t think he’s see her again but he felt compelled to walk that way anyway.  Maybe he would.  Maybe he’d see her again on his next shift on the docks.  Maybe she’d walk across the water to talk to him.  Really, would that be so bad?