The Malicarn #5
Without the cart and horse Glenn moved slower, cutting himself on thorns and tripping once over a stone.
He hit the ground hard and skinned his leg.
He hobbled forward, until he emerged from the forest into an open plain at the southern spur of the mountain.
The castle was a mile ahead, the high tower peering out above the grass.
He ran. Jules might have beaten him there, but perhaps he and Prion had not left yet.
At the castle gate the guard looked at him with concern. “Good sir Gregorian, are you all right? Where is your horse? Let me find you some help.”
“No need. Where is the king? I must speak with him.”
“Oh, the king left with a messenger. You just missed them. There was a matter of some urgency.”
“Damnit. Do you have a horse? Please, I need to follow them.”
“Yes, sir. Stay here, I’ll find the stablemaster.”
The guard shuffled off, and Glenn sat on a ledge, inspecting the rivulets of blood pouring down his leg.
“Gregorian! Gregorian!”
He looked up. One of the nursemaids from the castle ran out to him, waving her hands.
“Oh, Gregorian! I’m glad you’ve come! Please, quick, come this way!”
“I am waiting on a horse, I have urgent business with the king.”
“No, no! The queen! It is too soon. Please, my good sir!”
Glenn’s heart fluttered and he followed the woman into the castle and up a flight of stairs to the queen’s chambers. Evangeline was lying on her back in a large bed, several women attending to her. She was sweating.
“Oh, Gregorian,” she said. “It hurts. It hurts so much.”
“When—” Glenn stammered, looking down at the young girl. “When did this start? Does the king know?”
“No,” said the nurse. “The birthing pains began only after he left.” The nurse moved toward him, her voice in a low whisper. “It is too early for the child, Gregorian. You must delay it.”
“I don’t—I don’t know how.” He walked up beside Evangeline and held her hand. “How were you feeling this morning?”
“I was fine. I could feel the baby kicking.”
“Did you … eat anything? Maybe you ate some spoiled food?”
“She has eaten nothing poor, my lord,” said the nurse. “She was about to dine with the king just now when a messenger arrived.”
“But I did not eat,” Evangeline said, breathing heavily. “Just a little bit of wine, that is all. With the king when he was here.”
“Who prepared the wine?” Glenn asked. “Was it the messenger?”
“I do not know,” the nurse said. “I suppose so, why?”
“That man … he was the Necromancer.” There was a long pause, and Evangeline yelled. “I cannot help her. I do not have the magic. But I can find the king and bring him here.”
“The Necromancer!” The nurse shook her head. “I might have known. These are dark times.”
“You can take care of her?” Glenn asked. “I will find more help, but you must take care of her.”
“Of course.”
Glenn knelt beside Evangeline, his face level with her eyes. “My queen, I am off to find your husband. He will come and you will be safe. Do you understand?”
“Yes. Please hurry, Gregorian. It hurts so much.”
“I will be back soon. Just rest. All will be fine.”
A horse waited for him outside. Glenn told the guard to close the gate and let no one else inside. Then he rode off.
Glenn was not a strong rider and had not spent nearly enough of his time in the Malicarn practicing.
As the horse bounded over the hill Glenn did his best to grip onto the reins, accidentally pulling too hard when he meant merely to adjust himself.
The horse slowed but then Glenn dug his heels into its side and it sprang forward again.
It was a bumpy, jerky ride, but at least the path was clear.
Sector three was a series of hills and cliffs that overlooked the sea.
They were about as far south from the castle as the castle was from the village, just on the edge of the set’s territory and never used in story.
Characters did not travel there due to legends of monsters, but those legends were fake.
Not far beyond were a hotel and the main road to Funchal.
It was well past noon when Glenn reached the foot of the cliffs.
He followed echoing booms all the way down toward the river.
The sounds grew louder and clearer. They were groans, animalistic.
Roars. Glenn followed a dirt path next to the river, and was turning around a bend when he finally saw the source of the noise, the device Jules had bragged about. A dragon.
The dragon was built of metal, though it still looked very lifelike.
It had a wingspan of thirty feet, red and black scales up its body and long neck.
Its eyes were large but black, teeth long and sharp, and the screech it let out was cold and piercing.
It could fly, like a large drone, and hovered in the air above the water.
It bent its neck down, a plume of smoke and flame spouting from his mouth.
Prion stood waist-deep in the river, a sword held over his head.
Mud caked his body and blood was trickling down his skull.
As the dragon dove toward him, he lunged and tried to slice at its neck, but missed.
He limped and nearly fell over but righted himself and prepared for another attack from the dragon.
“Prion!” Glenn yelled, and drove his horse forward. He heard a cackling laughter, and up atop the low cliff that flanked the river stood Jules, waving a remote control fashioned to look like a wand. He was guiding the dragon, controlling its dives and bursts of flame.
The horse stopped as it reached the edge of the water, and Glenn jumped off. He had no weapons, no tools at all except his staff.
“Prion!” he called again as he began wading into the river. Prion turned and saw him approaching, waving him off.
“Get back, Gregorian! The beast is too powerful!”
“No, Prion! It’s not a beast. You have to run.”
“No! It will destroy the entire Malicarn if I flee. You do not understand. This man, he is—”
“The Necromancer. I know.” He trudged through the water, close enough to Prion that he didn’t have to yell. The dragon rose up high, circling above them. He knew Jules was holding it back to allow for this conversation, but Glenn did not know where the microphones recording them must be hidden.
“How do you know that?” Prion asked. “Are you still in league with him?”
“Please, you must leave. The dragon is not real, and Evangeline is not well. Your child may be born tonight!”
Prion lowered his sword and looked at Glenn. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Then his eyes searched Glenn’s. He twitched nervously, like his brain did not know how to respond.
“I know I should say something, but I cannot think what it should be.”
“Say you’ll come back with me,” Glenn said. “Marvin, please.”
The dragon roared, turned, and began to fly down toward them. Prion snapped to attention, as if suddenly he remembered who he was.
“Glenn?” he asked, in Marvin Powell’s voice. “Please, make it stop.”
But it was too late. The dragon broke toward Prion and opened his mouth. A ball of flame shot out and surrounded him. He gave a great shout but the dragon flew directly into him.
Glenn pressed down on the trigger on his staff and pointed it at the dragon. Dozens of sparks shot out in a dazzling display. The dragon buckled and collapsed on the shore beside the river. There was no sign left of Marvin.
A cloud of steam rolled across the river and over Glenn, cloaking the shore in a haze. He stood there, silent and still, watching the spot where Marvin had stood only a moment before. He turned only when he heard the sound of someone else’s boots walking on the sandy riverbank behind him.
“Good idea to use the static,” Jules said.
“It had no effect, of course, but it looked cool. Dragon was almost out of power anyway, so you gave me a good excuse to set it down. The rest of it, I’m not sure.
Might take some clever editing. Maybe we can do a reshoot where I reveal myself to you or something earlier. ”
“You killed him.”
“Glenn, come on. We discussed this.”
“And you’re killing her.”
“Her?”
“The queen. She’s in labor. You poisoned her.”
“Wow, what a twist.” He smirked. “You know, it could be a good ending, assuming she lives. A dead king and a live baby.”
“She needs a doctor, a real doctor.”
“This is the middle ages, Glenn. Come on. She can’t have those things.”
“She could die. The baby could die!”
Jules sighed and took out his phone, punching in something. The dragon mechanically lifted and began to fold into a ball, packing itself up to nearly a quarter of its size.
“Don’t be so dramatic, Glenn,” he said, then dialed a number. “Hello? Bill? Can you arrange to come get the dragon? Yeah, right now. I’d like to beat the weather.” He hung up. “I have to go back to the Citadel. Lots of shit to clean up from your girlfriend.”
“What about the baby?”
“Jesus, Glenn. Go deliver it yourself. Don’t you see what we just did? We wrote our own blockbuster! We’re like Lucas and Spielberg. And with no interference from the suits. It’ll be like nothing else we’ve done before. Isn’t that exciting enough for you?”
Glenn walked out of the river and approached Jules. “You killed him. He’s going to be a father, and you killed him.”
Jules shook his head and turned away. “Your horse wandered up to the road. I’m going to take it back, if you don’t mind? Mine’s dead, and I could use the ride. Regular writing meeting tomorrow, all right?”
Jules walked up the shoreline and away toward the road. He vanished behind the bend. Glenn looked over the river at the decommissioned dragon, thought of walking over and tearing it apart by hand, then remembered Evangeline, lying in her bed, waiting for Prion to return to her.
Glenn ran. He ran back to the road, following the cliffs north, and up through the hills and forests toward the castle. There was no sign of Jules. Glenn dropped his cloak and staff, sweat pouring through his shirt, and kept running. His legs burned and he didn’t slow down.
The gate of the castle was still closed when he arrived. “It’s Gregorian!” he shouted, banging loudly on the metal door. “Open up!”
The gate creaked open and the guard poked out his head.
“Gregorian? Where is the king?”
Glenn did not answer. He walked into the courtyard, passing the worried looks of court staff as he walked straight into the castle, hopping up the stairs and running into the queen’s chambers.
He was met with the sound of a crying infant. The nurse was holding her, a small child with a wisp of black hair, wrapped in a blanket. The nurse swayed back and forth and looked up at Glenn, tears on her cheeks.
“It is a girl,” she said, then glanced at the queen. “But there is too much blood.”
Evangeline was lying on her side, the bedsheets glistening red. She breathed slowly, her eyes locked on the small child in the nurse’s arms. Glenn walked over and leaned beside her.
“It is a princess,” Evangeline whispered. “A little princess.”
“That’s good,” Glenn said, placing his hand on her shoulder. “That’s good to hear.”
“Her name is Hannah,” she said. “Do you like it? It was my mother’s name.”
“It’s lovely.”
“Where is Prion?”
“He is coming. I saw his horse over the hill. He will be here soon.”
She closed her eyes and smiled. “He will be so proud of his daughter.”
“He’s proud of you, Evangeline.” The baby cried again.
“You will make sure they are safe?”
“The king is safe, my queen.”
“No.” She shook her head. “My little Hannah. Make sure she is safe.”
Glenn turned and looked at the nurse, who was bopping the child to calm her down.
Glenn had never seen a newborn baby before.
She was very small, with black hair and light brown skin.
She had dark almond eyes, like her mother.
She was alive where before she wasn’t alive, and her name was Hannah, which somehow wasn’t her name yesterday but today it was.
Glenn reached out and touched the child’s head but was overcome by an intense feeling of shame.
He pulled his hand away. He didn’t deserve to touch her.
The child was going to be an orphan and that was his fault, at least a little.
Maybe more than a little. Suddenly all Glenn wanted to do was talk to Lilly.
When he looked back at Evangeline, she was still.
“I did what I could,” the nurse said. “But the child was stuck. I think her leg might be hurt. And the queen … I could not stop the blood.”
“It’s not your fault,” Gregorian said.
“Where is the king?” the nurse asked.
“He is not coming.”
The nurse closed her eyes and cried fresh tears.
Glenn thought about what he would do. He would go to his apartment.
His phone was there. If he could get service, he could call Lilly, call someone, let them know what was happening.
Jules was killing people. Murder. And now there was a baby, and a dead woman, and they needed doctors, real doctors.
They had to do something, stop production.
Anything, he just had to get word out. Get word to Lilly. She would know what to do.
He tried to imagine where Lilly might be, if they had found her or if she was still hiding.
If she was on the island, or if she had gotten away.
Maybe she was safe, already somewhere far away.
Glenn tried to picture her, what she was wearing or what she was thinking.
But he couldn’t. He couldn’t think, couldn’t imagine.
Lilly was like a void, a distant object he could never comprehend.
That was the moment Glenn understood he would never do anything at all.
The baby cried. Glenn looked back down at her. Hannah, the little princess. No, the little queen. She was so very small. And with no one to protect her. Outside, it was storming. Rain pelted the windows. Winds thrashed tree branches against the castle’s stone walls. The hurricane had arrived.