Queen of Swords - Chapters 1-2
Prolouge<br> They were at our heels, the gleam of their blades reflecting the moonlight. A stampede of leather-bound hooves rumbled across the soggy earth. It was our heads that they sought. My dearest Danika and I had roamed these wooded trails like clockwork, trying our best to deter visitors from wandering too closely to the heart of the forest. Not because we wished them ill or found humor in their confusion, but out of fear for their safety. The Skegg Bearers freely traipsed through the Midnight Forest daily, hunting for easy prey or a reckless Leshy that strayed from their assigned sector. Vicious and unforgiving, those creatures knew the meaning of “heartless monsters,” as they had coined the phrase. Terrors on two legs, they found pleasure in our pain. A soft whimper emanating from our only child urged us on faster. Her life was at stake, so we had to flee from the reign of horrors that the Skegg Bearers were sure to bring. Disobeying the Harvest meant immediate execution, unless they felt like torturing you first. No trials were offered, you were guilty, plain and simple. Our sweet Amethyst didn’t deserve a future of servitude to those foul beasts. She rested against my leschachikha’s chest with a swath of cloth securing her in a snug fit. Tufts of pink strands poked up like cottony clouds in a breeze. Danika concealed her fatigue, only letting it shine through her defenses briefly, yet she never faltered. Amethyst’s tiny fingers clinging to the edge of her mother’s clothes was motivation enough. I could hear the bubbling currents of the river becoming louder as we drew closer to the ridge at the edge of the forest. Skegg Bearer territory ran to its banks. Beyond that and they would incur the wrath of the fairies. Us, they didn’t mind so much. Crossing the treacherous waters would be our salvation.<br> 1<br> No one spoke, only a foreboding silence crept through the crowd. It was the time of The Harvest, and the frightened cries echoed like a billowing cloud of despair. At its completion, whether willing or not, a child would be whisked away to suffer a fate unknown to the masses. Fear of repercussions kept us in line as we dreaded the coming of our wintry hibernation. We had to muddle through the precursor before giving into the call of the frozen sleep, with the promise of a bountiful spring as reward. Punishment was only the beginning. Our humble community faced the threat of invasion by a demonic presence that could only be staved off by offering our children as what we presumed to be some sort of sacrifice. Our Revered Oak never revealed the full extent of the danger the demon posed. We were spared the gory details, not that anyone really wanted to hear them. Her guidance and attentiveness to our laws was without reproach, so we put our faith and trust in her steady hands, even when our hearts yearned to stray from what we were raised to believe. Skegg Bearers lined the edges of the clearing, their weapons drawn in warning. Failure to participate meant a swift execution, no questions asked. I clutched my wife Danika and infant daughter to my chest. Prayers to the great spirits in the sky fluttered off of my tongue in a rapid litany. Please don’t let my Amethyst be chosen. Her very existence was a miracle, so we couldn’t lose her. I don’t think my heart could take it. Dressed in a layered cloak, a loyal messenger carried a stone cauldron around to the congregated clans. I held the wooden disc that was inscribed with the symbol of our lineage, wishing to crumble it to pieces instead of depositing it into the collection with the rest. Even if I had wanted to, a protective barrier spun with dark magic would prevent any damage from outside forces. This token was a symbol of fear and despair, and for the unlucky it was a one way ticket to isolation. Once you left the Midnight Forest, there was no coming back. You belonged to them. Wild speculation only made the outcome even more unbearable. Your imagination could be one of your greatest assets, or it could be your undoing. The images that we conjured were of abusive slavery and violent torture. No one really knew for certain, it was just what we had always assumed. The Skegg Bearers kept us in the dark. Our ignorance meant unwavering abidance of the law. My hand wavered over the cauldron, not willing to release the disc. I was hesitant to add my family token to the pile. A stinging tap across my knuckles forced it from my grasp. “Don’t test the patience of the Revered Oak. You know the punishment for desecrating our laws,” a raspy feminine utterance chided my perceived insubordination. When you child’s life was at stake, it was no easy task to participate in the ceremony that could take her away. “I meant no disrespect,” my apology lacking in sincerity. Her darkened eyes narrowed in distaste. I didn’t except her to believe me. My hostility was on full display, and I wasn’t ashamed at all. The Revered Oak weaved back around to the outskirts of the clearing where a raised dais had been erected. She centered the cauldron on its smooth surface. Hopeful pleas lingered as she raised her arm to silence the bickering. We waited with hands intertwined. Danika pressed her tear stained face over the spot where my heart thrummed anxiously, staining strands of my hair a darker mossy shade. “Casimir,” the Revered Oak announced. My worst fear had come to pass. She wanted our daughter for the wicked purpose of satisfying a demon’s lust for blood, in exchange for leaving us in peace. “Clan of Casimir, you will relinquish your child at once.” She repeated once more. “Do something Cas. They can’t take Amethyst. I don’t know if I’ll be able to conceive again.” During a struggle with a Skegg Bearer that caught Danika too close to the river, her Birthstone was cracked. This precious stone was imbedded in our spines along with the other four, which regulated and maintained our main bodily functions. The Birthstone was what allowed us to have children. Any damage to it, and conception could prove to be difficult, if not impossible to achieve. “Casimir, I won’t say it again. You know the rules.” This time, the Revered Oak bellowed in annoyance. “Danika, listen to me carefully. When I say go, run as fast as you can to the river.” I whispered in a low voice. “Can we make it?” “I hope so, but if not, hopefully Amethyst will.” Danika wrapped our daughter in a blanket and tightened her sling. “GO!” We bolted past our fellow Leshy, their wide stares passing in a blur. “Seize them! And if they put up a fight, kill them. For their defiance, their lives are forfeit no matter how much they beg.” A trio of Skegg Bearers divided from their ranks and soon gave chase. Our head start would be dwindling, because despite their bulky torsos and massive limbs, Skegg Bearers were swift as galloping horses. Hooves bound with leather wrappings thundered through the Midnight Forest, the ground rumbling with tremors. We passed the valley where we gathered herbs for cooking and healing. I would miss the buttery taste of Golden Veined Mushrooms. They only grew in a grove beyond the Midnight Forest said to be protected by mystical forces. Such a petty desire could be easily forgotten if I knew my family was safe. The rocky shores of the Proprad River coming into view gave us hope. We had to make it across˗˗˗for freedom, and for our daughter’s future. I chanced a look over my shoulder, and saw three Skegg Bearers gaining ground on us. “I know you’re tired my dearest, but we need to move quicker.” She saw the reason for our rushed pace. “I’m running as fast as I can.” Her tired expression was determined. Amethyst gurgled against her chest. I reached over and took the sling and tied it to my chest. The Proprad River was mere feet away. We were going to make it. A throaty scream followed by splashing erased that cheerful thought. Blood seeping from Danika’s back filled my vision. A gaping wound ran from her neck to her lower back. The stillness of her body told me she was dead. I should have kept moving. My lapse in judgment would mean my life being snuffed out alongside hers. At least I had the forethought to take Amethyst and toss her into a nearby bush on the other side of the river. Our hearty Leshy anatomy would protect her. The Skegg Bearers waded into the water, giving us pause. Not that many of us ever tried to escape, but it was well known that they refrained from entering the river because their leg wrapping would constrict. I thought I was safe, until they surged forward blades raised. This was the end. I underestimated the Skegg Bearers willingness to finish the job. I felt one of their blades slice through my back as I took one last look at my daughter. She was alive, and that was all that mattered.<br> 2<br> “This place gives me the creeps.” Alone in a forest, I received no reply to my complaint. Well Julia, you’re the one that wanted to be an accomplished photographer, so you had no choice but to accept the assignments that were given. I worked for a magazine that specialized in nature documentaries and exposés on supernatural phenomenon that occurred within the natural world. Last week I was in Japan checking out the Aokigahara Forest. To some it was only referred to as the “Sea of Trees” and to the more curious, its more infamous name “The Suicide Forest” reeled them in. Whether because of financial troubles or depression, many came to live out their final moments surrounded by the stark beauty of the sprawling vegetation. That trip was the beginning of a series of articles that we were putting together that detailed Forests with a haunted or mythical past. Next on the list was the Midnight Forest in Slovakia near the Predné Solisko mountain range. Here amongst the jagged peaks and dense tree lines, the legend of the Leshy was born. They were creatures of the forest that stories describe as having tangled green hair and long gangly beards. Combined with their sometimes bluish skin and blood, it made for a striking other-worldly appearance. And don’t even think of disrespecting the forest in any way, or risk being killed or cursed by a Leshy. If you’re lucky, the least they will do is startle you enough that you will leave the area. Ok, keep a low profile˗˗˗got it. Easy enough, all I had to do was snap a few pictures and go. One brochure suggested that I ask permission before entering the forest. I felt foolish doing it, but better safe than sorry. On the slim chance of actually meeting one, I would rather be on their good side. Crisp fall air and a rainy forecast gave my photos an eerie quality˗˗˗perfect for the next feature in As Nature Intended magazine. My eye for framing dramatic shots didn’t hurt either. I was the type that believed in good and bad omens, and in my book, rain was a sign of luck. I walked along one of the designated hiking trails, observing the landscape for a unique angle or distinguishing feature to capture. The roar of a river piqued my senses. I bet I could get an awesome long exposure shot where everything was in sharp focus, while the water was a smooth blur. Leaves and mud sloshed under my boots. The roaring got louder, as did a brassy whimpering. It would be arrogant to think that I was the only living creature out in the middle of a forest. That’s all it was, a native inhabitant going about their daily routine. If only that was the case. A tiny human-like hand reaching out from a bush shattered my rationale. My cautious approach confirmed that the tiny hand belonged to a baby. Anger swept over me. What kind of cruel parent would abandon their child like an unwanted toy? A woven blanket obscured most of the child’s features, except for a curled patch of magenta hair. The deep pink hue was unusual, and at first led me to conclude that someone had dyed the baby’s hair before leaving it out here. Soft and downy, the strands felt like silk in my hand˗˗˗and very natural. Stitched onto the blanket was some sort of insignia or family crest. Being from Ireland, I understood the importance of genealogical pride. A symbol of your heritage was just as special as your name. I would have to ask my friend Peyton to take a look at it when I got back. The flourishing lines surrounding a triangle had some sort of significance, but it was not an image I recognized. I set my camera down to lift the infant from the bushes. He or she˗˗˗I couldn’t tell which, didn’t make a sound as I unwound the blanket and sling that ensconced its petite form. There weren’t any marks, so I guess that ruled out abuse. What looked like blades of grass, were woven together as a nappy that covered the child’s lower half. I felt like a letch, but I checked and found that my unexpected discovery was a girl. She wouldn’t last very long out here exposed to the elements, so I bundled her back up and hiked back to my rental car. Back in my hotel room possible ways of getting her back to Ireland ran through my head. Entry and exit required all citizens,including infants to have a passport. Forget smuggling her in a carry on or checked bag˗˗˗that would make me a monster like whoever dumped her in the first place. What was I going to do? An amused gurgle from Kayla˗˗˗that’s what I decided to call her, was a welcome distraction. That bubbly melody went silent, just as a blue light surrounded her, blinding me with its brilliance. When the light subsided, sitting where Kayla had laid tucked in a pile of blankets, was a branch the same length as her body. I couldn’t help it, I drew the sign of the cross from my forehead to chest, and from shoulder to shoulder. Or in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen. I was raised an Irish Catholic, so the motion was second nature. I shook my head in disbelief. What had I witnessed? She was a baby one second and a tree branch the next. I could get on board with an unnatural hair color, but this was straight up witchcraft. And in the eyes of the Lord, it was a force that had no place in our world. I should leave and forget that I ever found Kayla. Strict upbringing or not, my beating heart felt a rising blow of devastation. For so long I had wanted a child of my own, but after one husband and many attempts, I had given up. The doctors told me my uterus hadn’t formed properly, and that conception would be near impossible. That discussion ended with divorce and nights of crying me eyes out. Perhaps this was a sign. I would finally have my wish granted. With Kayla, I could be the mother I always wanted to be.