Chapter 11

Luria could feel the poison like an acid in her veins. She shivered; trying to keep from whimpering as her stomach rebelled against the little bit of water she'd managed to drink and started to heave once more. She could hear the battle raging over the sound of her sickness and she cringed at every human scream.

"Any news," she gasped as she lay back against the covers, her hands going to the wound in her stomach.

"None," King Martane said, as he walked away from the window. He laid a cool hand on her forehead and she moaned at the relief she felt. "You shouldn't worry, Luria. I promised him that you would be well and we must expend all our strength at getting you there."

"What are we waiting for?" she whispered, accepting the glass he held and bringing it shakily to her lips. The cool water in the glass was as welcomed as his hand had been, and she held it there, before swallowing. Two sips were all she could handle before pushing it away.

"Nathalie is bringing the candle we need. She should be here soon, daughter, never fear."

Luria lay back against the pillows, smiling even through the pain. "It is so nice to be called daughter again. Thank you for that, Martane."

"I thank you for my son's life." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her burning palm. "I know this is not the first time you have saved him since he got you out of the black castle."

"Graeme seems to be telling tales," Luria gasped, rolling to her side as the pain grew fiercer. She clasped her hands over her stomach, her face turning even whiter as she saw herself in the mirror.

She'd seemed to age, looking older by the minute. Her blue eyes had lost their vibrancy, her hair was limp and dull. Wrinkles of pain and illness lay upon her face like road maps, crinkling skin that had lost its elasticity. She cringed back from the reflection, a single tear coming to her eyes to slide down her skin.

Even her tears had changed, seeming almost gray and drying against her skin to leave a fleck of some kind against her flesh.

She jumped when the door flew open and Nathalie rushed in, holding the necessary candle with both hands. "I found it," she said unnecessarily. "We must hurry; the black guard has broken through the first gate, if they break through the second..."

"We all know what happens then," Martane said.

"What of Balor?"

Nathalie hurried to the side of the bed, smiling down gently at the sick and injured girl. "He rides that great black horse of yours. Tristan's covered in beautiful silver, sparkling in any bit of light he finds. Balor sits upon him directing the men and fighting with them. That lion of yours, he's worth two legions of men. He's saved our men more than once this night. Now we must hurry and then you can go see for yourself."

"You have such faith in my mother that she will come, even when she didn't want me to begin with?" Luria said softly.

"You cannot believe that," Martane said, taking the candle from his wife. "She couldn't keep you. You were part of this land and part of the people. She is a goddess. If she'd tried to keep you, you'd have been killed by the other gods. You know this."

"No," she said softly, "I didn't know that. They'd have killed me because I was part human? What kind of gods are those?"

"Do not blaspheme the gods," Nathalie said in a hurry. "Not now, not when we need them on our side to win this war against Magnus."

"Come, Nathalie, we must make the circle, close it with salt."

"Yes, yes, I know how this is done. I showed you, remember?"

"I know, my love, I know. But it was well worth it for the gift they gave us was a wonderful one." Martane beamed down at his wife then waved her to go ahead of him.

They worked quickly; performing the rituals and adding the prerequisite gifts, closing the circle in salt so that no one but the god they wanted could come and take it. Then Nathalie performed the chant, making her marks in the salt without completely opening the circle. A bright golden light grew from the center and as Martane spoke her name in a reverent voice, Atana Potnia flickered into the circle and took shape.

"What is this?" she asked somewhat angrily, her white blonde hair that was so like her daughter's was curled around her. She held a lamb in her arms, while two others pranced about her feet. "Who are you and why have you summoned me?"

"Your daughter lies ill, ma'am," Martane said in his deep voice, reaching into the circle to take the lamb from the goddess's arms. "She needs your help." He nodded toward the bed where Luria lay, now still, her eyes closed.

"My daughter?" Atana Potnia asked, her eyes upon the still body. "That is my Luria?"

She stepped through the circle of salt, becoming more real looking with every step. "Yes, ma'am. She's been poisoned by the dagger of a black guardsman."

"Where is the guardsman?" A'Potnia asked, anger thick in her voice.

"He lies there," Nathalie said, waving her arm gracefully to where Nigel still laid, his body puddling the floor with its black blood.

"Who killed him?" A'Potnia asked, stepping eagerly toward the bed.

"Your daughter did, ma'am. She stepped in front of my son when she saw the dagger, saving him and killing the guard with her sword. She's a very brave fighter, fierce at caring about those she loves."

"Where's your son now? He left her, after she was willing to give her life for him?" A'Potnia placed her hand upon her daughter's head, feeling the baking heat coming off of her. "He left her here while he what, went drinking and carousing?"

"No ma'am. My son entrusted us with her care while he went out to save his people and our home from Magnus's black guard."

"Magnus?" She went to the window, glancing out at the darkness, hearing the twang of bowstrings and the sound of metal on metal. "He's a demi-god. He won't be out there fighting with his legions. The way to be rid of Magnus is to face him in his own castle." She waved a hand in front of her face as if waving away the problem and then went back to Luria. "My poor darling," she cooed softly. Her soft fingers stroked over skin that was dry from fever. Luria moaned at the touch, her head turning to follow it.

"You can save her, can't you?" King Martane asked, watching as the beautiful goddess lowered herself to sit on the bed next to her daughter.

"I can, yes. But she must have the will to live. I cannot give her that."

"My son, Balor, he gives her that," Nathalie said, her hands clasped against her breast. "They love each other, you can see it in their eyes."

"But is he good for her?" Atana Potnia said, staring down at the girl that she'd given away as a baby to save her. She'd never had another child, still mourning for this one, the one she'd been forced to abandon. She'd never been able to forget her and had checked in on her from time to time.

"He is, he loves her and my son will do everything for those that he loves," Martane smiled down at the beautiful goddess. "Please, if a sacrifice is needed, one will be made, if it is money and gems that you wish, you shall have that as well. But please, her death will break our son's heart."

Balor saw one of the commanders of the three legions that were attacking them. He kicked Tristan, sending the huge horse galloping down a short incline outside the gates. With a roar of rage, he swung his sword and watched as the ugly beast's head fell from his shoulders, bouncing down and into his men. The body fell from the animal it was riding slowly, almost as if in slow motion. Then the animal reared, releasing a cry that almost sounded glad as it raced away from the castle and into the woods close by.

Balor held up his blood covered sword, daring those of the beast's guard to attack. One or two started toward him only to stop and shield their eyes, bowing low to the ground. Balor spun Tristan, wanting to see what was at his back. A golden glow was starting in the east up where the palace was located.

"What the... ?" Balor began, shielding his own eyes as the light got ever brighter. It bathed him in heat and a goodness that was surprising, sending the beasts around him skittering for cover. "Luria," he breathed, kicking Tristan into a gallop even as Rowan roared and headed toward the palace as well.

It seemed to take forever before he pulled his horse to a stop in front of the big doorway that was opened from the bailey. The light had faded by this time, but Rowan's angst hadn't. He growled at the closed door, scratching and battering at it with his paws and claws. Balor jumped down, not noticing the man who came forward to take the huge stallion from him. He took the stairs two at a time, pushing Rowan aside so that he could reach the door. Before he could open it, it was opened from the inside and a bit of that golden light seeped out, touching Rowan and making him back away, bowing low.

Balor wasn't sure what he'd expected, but it was certainly not to see Luria step out onto the steps, her hair almost seeming to glow in the moonlight. She was buckling on her sword, arguing with someone behind her. "I'm fine," she said finally, her hands on her hips.

"Are you sure about that?" Balor asked, swooping her up in his arms and spinning her around, his lips anxiously searching for hers, needing to assure himself that it was, indeed, his Luria. He kissed her until the fear that had been his constant companion since he'd had to leave her began to dissipate. "You're really all right?" he breathed against her mouth.

"I'm fine," she giggled. Her arms were around his neck and she was very happy to be in his arms. "You're well?"

"Gods, Luria," he growled. He kissed her again, this time hard. "I can't go through that again."

She laughed as he turned and sank down onto the step with her cradled in his lap. "Yes, I should be more in tune with what you're going through," she said. "Let me up, I have someone I want you to meet."

He stood her up and then got up behind her, stumbling a bit as relief bit at his control. Balor grabbed her hand, unwilling to let go of her, as if afraid she wasn't anything but a dream. His eyes were locked upon her face, searching for even the slightest bit of weakness from the bite of the knife and the poison that had covered it. There was nothing, not even a hint of a shadow under the beautiful blue of her eyes.

Relief rushed over him and he began to shake. Luria turned, feeling his hand tremble in hers. "Balor?"

"I thought I'd lost you," he breathed. His hand reached out, touching the tender skin of her cheek, cupping it in his palm. Luria turned her head, pressing a kiss into his palm.

"You didn't lose me," she whispered, her own hand coming up to wipe away the tear that fell from his amber eye. "I'm right here."

"I know," he whispered, pulling her once more in his arms and just holding her tight, unable to let her go. They were both almost knocked off their feet as Rowan pushed against them, wanting to see his mistress as well.

"You big baby," Luria giggled as Rowan's tongue lashed across her face. "Stop that." She scratched his ears.

"You are, indeed, my daughter." The feminine voice came from above them on the steps and Luria jumped up, going to the woman's side to bring her forward.

"Balor," she said. "This is my mother, Atana Potnia. Mother, my husband, Prince Balor of the Seventh Kingdom."

Balor bowed, taking the goddess's hand in his own and letting his lips brush her knuckle. "It is an honor."

A'Potnia stared up into his eyes. She said nothing for a moment, just kept staring as if she could see into him. Finally, she smiled. "It is true, what she says, you would lay your life down for her?"

"Yes," Balor said without hesitation. "She is my life."

"Then it is indeed a true match. You have my blessings, both as her mother and as a goddess." A'Potnia reached out, touching his forehead with her fingers. A small golden glow arose from the place she'd touched and she leaned forward, kissing the spot. "A small gift," she said to the startled prince.

A'Potnia pulled her daughter closer, hugging her to her side. "I am glad that I got to see the match you made, my daughter. I hope you'll allow me to see my grandchildren as well."

Luria glanced back at Balor before nodding. "We'd love to have you, Mother," she said almost formally.

"Good, now, I must go and you have a war to win. You need to remember one thing, Luria. Magnus is no more powerful than you. He is a demi-god and a lazy one. He will always want others to fight his battles so that he might keep his hands clean. Go to him, it will be the only way for the two of you to win this war and rid yourself of Magnus once and for all." She kissed Luria on the cheek and then disappeared, almost like a golden bubble popping out of existence.

"Face him in his castle?" Martane asked, coming to stand next to Luria. "That would be madness. He is stronger there. He feeds off the dark energy of those that he has captured."

"So then I guess we need to free them," Luria said as Balor came up to put his arm around her as if unable to stop touching her.

"That would be my thinking as well," Balor said.

Rowan roared and Balor gasped, his hand going to his head.

"What is it son?" Martane yelped reaching for his son's shoulder.

"D-did he just ask what we were waiting for?" Balor asked Luria, a smile beginning on his handsome face.

"Yes," she smiled, laughing when he spun her into his arms.

Isobel stared in horror at the dark lord. His eyes were full of malevolence, his face ruddy with excitement and lust. There was no sign of mercy in the man. "Please," she whimpered. "I am a virgin."

Magnus grinned. "I'm so glad you saved that tasty treat for me, Isobel, but the virginal whining is getting on my nerves. If you don't wish to undress for me, I'm sure I could find someone who would be willing to help you." He glanced around the room, spotting two of the younger men who worked in the kitchen. Raising his hand, he motioned them to come to him.