The Chains of Duty Chapter 8: Truth or Lie (part one and two)

She stood by herself. Not that she expected anyone to be there with her, but it felt lonely. She looked around. “Where is this?” she wondered aloud. No one answered. The room looked familiar. She could not quite place her finger on it.

Then she spotted it. The king-sized bed on one side of the room, exactly where she thought she had seen it in another room. But that was not possible. No two rooms had the same dimensions in the palace. So this was it? Her father’s bedchamber. The one he had shared with her mother while she was still alive.

The sunlight sifted through a crack in the between the two pieces of cloth curtaining the balcony from the chamber. It was only a step away from her. She had the sudden urge to brush aside the curtains and stand in the balcony. She reached out and stopped. The beam of light cut right through her palm as if nothing were there. She looked at her other hand. She could see the marble floor through her fingers.

“What is this?” she asked. And only now she noticed, her voice came out hollow. She could hear it, but only faintly, as if it were being muffled from outside.

The double doors that marked the entrance burst open, revealing a beauteous woman in obvious panic. She held a bundle of blankets to her bosom, her dark hair flailing in every which direction as she heaved labored breaths. A child of two clung to her, scuttling along on her tiny legs. The lady quickly bolted the doors from the inside.

“Quick, Nidara, hide in the closet,” the lady whispered to the toddler.

“In the…closet…?” the child asked, confused.

The woman turned to her, panting, and sunk to her knees. “Yes, Nidara. Hide in there. And do not come out, no matter what happens. Do not show yourself till your father comes to look for you. Do you understand?” she whispered in a hushed and hurried tone.

The child nodded slowly, still scared.”What about you, mother?” she asked.

The lady stroked the child’s face. “You need not worry about me, sweetheart.” Sadness lingered in her voice.

“And Novara?” the child now asked.

“I will make sure she is safe,” the woman said, and looked down at the bundle in her arms, which contained a newborn, “with my life if need be.”

They hurried to hide the two children. The toddler fit into the smallest compartment with room to spare. The woman placed a quick kiss on the child’s forehead before swinging the door shut. She then took to cocooning the baby on the bed. She was in the middle of wrapping a comforter around the baby when the double doors were banged from the outside. She gasped in shock, and then composed herself as best she could.

The next moment the door unbolted itself, and hissed open. In the doorway stood a man in a bellowing black cloak, an uncanny smile twisted his lips. The room was filled with a smell of burning wood.

The man strode toward the woman, Novara watched with growing anxiety. This was her mother before her death, perhaps her last moments. Why was she doing here? What was going on?

“Trying to hide something are we now, Queen Nusada?” the man said in taunting. His black eyes reminded one of an unending abyss. They lit up in a wicked sort of amusement.

The woman’s jaw clenched. Her hands fisted themselves in the skirt of her dress. “You will not harm my children, Hozoar. Not while I still breathe.” The words tumbled out of her mouth in a fury-filled hiss.

The man pouted. “But you are trying to hide something I very much need, Your Highness.”

“My children have nothing of worth to you!”

“Oh, but they do. Especially your newborn.” His eyes floated over to the bundle of blankets on the bed. The baby had been asleep even with all the commotion. But now, under scrutiny of the man’s gaze, she began to stir, and soon began to wail.

The lady looked from the man to her baby in horror. “What does Novara have that you so much need?” she asked incredulously.

“She has what I need to fulfill the prophecy.” He said eyeing the baby with obvious greed.

The lady spun around at his words. “The prophecy…?”

“Yes, my dear Queen.”

The lady seemed to lose her breath for a few moments. Then, she said, “Do not take her. I plead you. She is a mere child. What can she give you?”

“She can give me everything she has.” He said licking his lips.

“NO!” the lady screamed. “No. She cannot.” She took a longing look at the infant, then spared a fleeting glance toward the compartment of the closet where she hid Nidara, so as not to let Hozoar notice. “Take me in her stead. I can give you more. More than she ever can.”

Hozoar chuckled. “Clever you are, Queen Nusada. Trading your life for your child’s. Clever you are.”

“I beg of you. She will never do you any harm. None of Yawen will ever come in your way. Spare her.” Her breath came ragged. Her voice was on the edge of beggary. Her hands were clasped in earnest in front of her.

He brought a hand to his chin pretending to think. “Perhaps I could take you.”

“Yes! Let my Novara live.”

“But what of your very loving husband King Markoph?”

“We need not worry about him. He is an intelligent man. He will know not to pursue me.”

Hozoar thought some more. Then he said, “Very well then. You will serve the purpose you claim, or die trying.” He stepped closer and Nusada sunk to her knees, tears started to stream down her face in torrents.

He swished his cloak just as sobs began to rake her body, and in a flash they were gone. The baby Novara continued to wail. She struggled against her wrappings in vain. Soon, the king bolted in, the minister of defense, Rudolf trailing behind. The king looked as disheveled as Novara felt awed. There was a possibility that her mother was, if not well, then at least alive.

Markoph examined the situation in the chamber. He saw baby Novara wailing and thrashing her limbs in an attempt to throw away her wraps. He picked her up and cooed gently. “There, there, child. Fear not. The worst has passed.” He sighed. “Sadly, it has taken your mother with it.”

“Your Majesty,” said Rudolf, “where could Princess Nidara be?”

Markoph gasped. “I forgot about Nidara!”

A compartment door in the closet inched open, revealing a petrified two year old Nidara. She clambered down quickly and ran to embrace her father. He bent down and wrapped an arm around her. Tear tracks glistened on both their faces.

Novara made to step toward them but she felt herself being dragged back. The scenery around her began to become distant while starting to fade away. She was falling into a chasm, dark and dry and hollow. She jolted onto a solid surface, not too hard, not too soft, just enough to make one feel drowsy at once. And drowsy she felt. So drowsy that her eyelids refused to rise though she tried. So, she complied the urge to sleep.

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To be continued…