The fire was dying.The wood crackled faintly and ashes scattered as the flames popped and flickered with their final breathes. The tower room was illuminated by a flash of jagged lightning that shattered the darkness outside and through the world into a clash of harsh light and heavy, threatening shadows. A small round box tumbled off the bed and onto the floor, rolling toward the fireplace where it came to a stop, its edges finding the stone of the mantel and tipping so that it fell onto its back on the floor.
Her pale, trembling hands clumsily stuffed long, flowing gowns into the cloth bag that was quickly filling much to her dismay. Tears were cascading like pale rivers from her bright green eyes and dampening her freckle sprinkled, flushed cheeks as she turned her head and pulled herself away from the bed and the gathered items to rush to the fireplace. She grasped the hem of her skirt and just as she bent to grasp the small box that had previously scampered away from her, the castle shuddered and she was sent sprawling to the floor, her body crashing against the legs of a small table and upsetting it; a lit candle toppled and fell catching a long, fluttering tapestry and setting it aflame.
The woman paid little heed to the burning cloth and pushed herself to her knees, snatching the box and standing to her feet. Stumbling over the hem of her long dress, she passed the foot of the bed and looked down from the window, seeing the torches below flickering like wicked stars in the stormy evening. The rain clanged like tiny stones against the armor of the mob outdoors, and she drew herself up, squaring her shoulders as one male, who sat atop an armored bay stallion tilted back his head and lifted his eyes to her.
Their gazes met for a terrible moment, and the man smiled.
She turned away from the window in a flurry of skirts and long, curling red hair. Her bare feet slid against the wooden floor that had been drenched from the heavy rains, and she stuffed the box into the bodice of her dress between her full breasts. A hand was lifted to her heart and the other to her full lips as they parted in a weak sob.
The door was forced open, and a young man with curling brown hair falling about his armored shoulders stepped inside, startling the female from her thoughts. “Hurry, Scarlette, there is no time.” His eyes found the tapestry as it was eaten alive by the flames from the single candle, which had begun to spread its fire to the damp wood of the floor.
“My King,” The female whimpered as she grabbed the straps of the sack she had filled. Slinging them over her shoulders, she rushed into his open arms, and they held each other for a moment until the castle again shuddered with the heavy thudding of the battering ram against the main gates.
The king took the woman’s hand in his and clutched it tightly as he led her down a spiraled stone staircase in a narrow hall that led down to a congested room where men and women alike were bustling about in an erratic, panicked fashion. The woman hesitated at the sight and her eyes seemed to darken with concern; the male said nothing, but with his companion in tow began to navigate through the teeming throng toward a pair of doors that stood against one of the side walls.
The doors opened into a more open room, with clay pots piled in a wooden trough that was half full of foaming water. Knives laid beside half cut fruits and within the stove a piglet’s motionless form slowly burned, its skin black and faintly smoking. A young man looking no older than the king himself stood at a small wooden door fidgeting. His hand was stiffly resting against the hilt of the sword that hung at his side and his black hair was swept back carelessly from his face. His blue eyes sharply lifted as the two entered and the doors behind them were closed.
He bowed, curving an arm about his waist. “Your Majesty, the enemy is advancing.” He lifted his eyes. “I am no longer sure we will be able to break through.”
“You have to, Gareth.” The king glanced to the woman at his side then back to the man before him. “You have to make sure she is not taken.”
Gareth’s eyes turned to the woman then back to his king in askance. The monarch’s own eyes narrowed faintly and he looked over his shoulder to the doors he and Scarlette had just entered through before he strode forward and released her hand. She turned to look at him, parting her lips. “My King,” Her voice shook and her hands moved to cup about his cheeks as she spoke. “August…, if you stay… August, if you stay you will die.”
August tilted up her face and his eyes met hers. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” She murmured just as their lips brushed together and they held each other for the last time.
“My lady, we must go.” Gareth reminded as he opened the small door by the smoking carcass of the piglet. “Now. Hurry.”
Scarlette pulled away, her hands lingering for a moment against the king’s cheeks before she was forced to turn and proceed Gareth through the door. When the door was closed behind them, the king turned himself and went the opposite direction, moving back through the empty kitchen into the overflowing hall. “Make ready!” He shouted, grasping the hilt of the sword at his side. The women- maidservants and cooks and maids and nurses- had vanished, leaving only wide eyed pages and a handful of knights.
King August Romaine took a steadying breath as he strode into the center of the ring of knights, who all drew their swords, and as the doors to the palace collapsed inward, they surged forward and met the charge of the enemy.
Outside amid the pouring rain, Scarlette had mounted her pale horse, and with Gareth riding at her side, rode from the stables down the steep hill upon which the castle stood, and toward the dark, ominous trees of the thick forest.
“Wait, Gareth!” The woman cried through the raging storm, laying a hand against her stomach as the fabric of her dress was tugged against the gentle curve of her bulging midsection. She turned in the saddle and lifted her free hand to receive the clawed talons of a dove. The bird coo-ed softly and hopped from her fingers to her shoulder, nestling just under her jaw on the upper exposed curve of the lady’s breasts.
“My lady, we have to go!”
Her eyes were frozen on the palace as the fire began to burst in quick, flickering spurts from the tower window like the tongue of a serpent. The enemy soldiers drained into the palace until only a few of the torches and the man on horseback remained outside in the storm. The bird at the woman’s breast coo-ed again and stretched one of her wings upward to brush against the underside of Scarlette’s jaw. Scarlette turned toward Gareth just as a black arrow buried itself into his chest.
Her scream was drowned out by the snapping of thunder above her head, and her horse reared as four more arrows struck the ground about its hoofed feet. Jerking against the reigns, the woman turned the horse toward the forest and urged it forward, glancing back once to see the man on horseback as he sped down the slope of the hill toward the edge of the woods.
The outstretched limbs of the trees tore at her hair and the wildly flapping fabric of her dress as she rode. The mare’s hooves thundered against the ground, kicking up clumps of mud and moss as it dodged the massive trunks of the trees and leapt over the sprawling and arching roots. The sack she had flung against her back was bouncing and repeatedly striking her shoulder blades and waist; her hair whipped about her face and obscured her vision. Taking one hand from the reigns, she brushed her hair aside and glanced over her shoulder, finding the way from whence she had come to be empty. The rain began to cease and a delicate fog drifted through the trees, veiling the forest in a curtain of white.
Raindrops hung suspended like tiny orbs on the arching branches of the trees and glistened like diamonds from the green backs of the leaves. As the first rays of moonlight reflected off the lingering droplets of rain and off the moisture collected in the fog, the woman and her horse vanished into the woods, leaving the burning palace and the screams of the dying far, far behind.
And within the mysterious depths of the forest, life stirred.
