Intimus Sanctum

Déorah began to stir from the depth of sleep which was filled with darkened shadows and lurking terrors. She pulled herself to the edge of reality to escape the horrid scenes of death and suffering. Suddenly, her eyes opened, her breath almost stolen as she struggled to remember where she was. Memories of the long journey through the ancient forest began to flood her mind. She could again see the pain in her king's eyes as he looked at his son for the last time.

The young queen continued to check the foreign surroundings. Her sleeping chamber, warmed by the fire that still danced with a gentle breeze, was greeted by the morning sun. Golden rays filtered through a small window high in the stone wall.

In the far corner, a shadow caught Déorah's eye. She gasped.

"M' Lady, I'm sorry to startle you," said an elderly woman with wizened eyes. "I have watched over you during the night. I am Lithuen."

Lithuen rose to her feet as one who's only seen twenty years. Déorah could see kindness in Lithuen's wrinkled face as she approached the bed. There was something about this woman that put Déorah at ease. She felt safe.

"Water to wash your face, M' Lady?" Lithuen asked as she helped Déorah out of bed. "And breakfast is ready." The elder woman hustled about laying out clothes good enough for a queen. "One of the young maidens gave of her milk to KBehrszhen early this morning," she continued, "but I am sure the child will eagerly drink from his mother. He has quite a good appetite. Almost nothing left for Swana's daughter. After breakfast, she will bring him to you." Lithuen's eyes twinkled as she patted Déorah's hand with the assurance of a mother.

Just then, the door creaked open and a young girl peered around the wooden edge. A procession of young maidens, carrying jars of warmed water and food, followed her inside. They all bowed respectfully. Déorah smiled as she remembered a time when she served the important visitors who had come to her village to meet with her father, grandfather, and the elders.

Lithuen ushered the girls out, gently closing the door as she walked on behind them. As Déorah refreshed her body with food and wash, she thought of the task ahead and the promise she made to a reluctant Trondar.

"To ask help from your people is unfathomable," he told her. "It was I who commanded my soldiers to burn your village and carry away your women, children and cattle."

Though she flinched at the memory, she reminded him that her people were the best horsemen and archers in the kingdom. He paced, shook his head with his chin resting between his forefinger and thumb.

"Many good men died that day," he whispered. "Why would they help now?" He was certain they would not.

Déorah stood in the path of his pacing and took his hands in hers. She held them to her lips and softly kissed them. Looking in his eyes she assured him that she would make her father and the elders listen to her.

She finished dressing in time for Swana's arrival with KBehrszhen. Déorah held her child close to her bosom and whispered to him, "Son of a king, grandson of a mighty warrior, great grandson of a sage. You will be safe here." She lovingly gazed into his dark eyes, she felt his love, his growing strength, she knew his destiny. How she ached to bring him with her. To be without him for even a moment was a thought she could not bear. As she caressed his head of silky black hair, she pushed away her agony. Déorah revealed and then quickly covered the royal birthmark behind his left ear with his curls. Her journey was fraught with too much peril. He would need to stay in Berothai.

With KBehrszhen fed, Déorah searched for the elder of the guardians. Rothsweld would prepare her for the hard journey back to Legraeux; a strong horse for her travels, food, water, gold coins for the inn keeper, a sword, dagger, bow and a quiver full of arrows for protection. Her brothers had taught her how to ride. Déorah was as good a rider as any of them, and near as good with a bow.

Perhaps it was the echo of her boots clicking on the cold stone floor that brought Lithuen out of her room just as Déorah came abreast the door. Or maybe Lithuen had the same gift as her grandfather, always appearing when you needed his wisdom and guidance. As if knowing her intent, Lithuen ushered Déorah down the hall to the large room with the great stone hearth she remembered from the night before. There at a grand beech-wood table sat several noble men.

An elderly, very ancient looking, white-haired man rose to greet her. "Queen Déorah. Welcome" he said as he walked across the room toward her. "I am Rothsweld, at your service to the king." Looking at the child in her arms he asked, "May I hold the young lord?" Déorah placed the child into his arms, noting the awe in his gaze. He looked behind KBehrszhen's left ear. For a moment he studied the birthmark then returned the boy to his mother. He sighed.

Déorah asked Rothsweld if he knew of her mission. His face grew serious.

"Yes m' Lady. I'd like for you to meet Destar. He will be your companion on the journey."

Destar had risen from the table as Déorah had entered the room. At the mention of his name, he bowed his head.

Déorah's face clouded with confusion. "I believed it was Jthan who would accompany me."

"Jthan left last night on a mission much like your own. He must convince your king's brother to join him on the battlefield." Noticing the look of distress on Déorah's face, the wise elder assured her, "Destar is a great warrior. Alone he is a company of men".

Déorah smiled reassuringly at Destar. "I am honored to be in your care, Destar." "And you, Lord Rothsweld are much like my grandfather, a man of great wisdom and knowledge. I trust you with all my heart. Tell me then, is Jthan's life in danger. I fear his undertaking is far more difficult than my own."

"You are quite right m' Lady."

Rothsweld's answer disturbed her soul.

"But do not worry. Your own journey will prove hard enough. Now, I understand you are an exceptional rider. We have chosen a fine mare for you and prepared ample supplies."

Déorah nodded with approval. "I am ready." she said with a sigh. "And who will care for KBehrszhen in my absence?"

Rothsweld turned to Lithuen who gracefully stepped forward. Déorah held her child tightly to her bosom for a long moment, and then surrendered him into Lithuen's arms. Leaning over she whispered into his ear, "My son, I will return to you soon. Hold me in your heart until then." She kissed his head, lingering for just awhile longer, taking him in one last time. She took a deep breath and then turned to Destar. "We must go."

Destar put his hand over his heart and bowed his head. Then he led the young queen toward the stables. A light rain began to fall.

*****

Chapter 5 was written by Susan Skommesa, edited by Debby Alten
copyright, 2010, Susan Skommesa
Published with permission

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4