Augury Answered Read online

  Augury Answered

  PHILLIP MURRELL

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, and events are all work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, organizations, locations, or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 by Phillip Murrell

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing, 2019

  ISBN: 9781096096191

  This book is dedicated to my bonus parents, Jimmy and Rosie. Not to be confused with my in-laws, Jim and Rose, to whom this book is also dedicated.

  CHAPTER 1

  Ayoung girl chased a small frog as it hopped away from the threat she posed. The girl squealed with delight as she cornered the green amphibian alongside her home. The frog pressed against the sturdy brick wall of the large plantation home. With delicate caution, she moved her pale and freckled hands on each side of her prey. The frog had ceased moving and remained still as the child wrapped her small fingers and held it tight.

  “Murid! My sweet, where are you? Murid, it’s time!” a woman shouted from the doorway of the two-story, brick home.

  “Time to meet my prince,” Murid said to her new pet before releasing it. The frog hopped away with the eagerness expected of nature, now that Murid offered it a safe passage back to the swampland surrounding her home on this sunny afternoon.

  “Murid! Come here!” the woman shouted again.

  “Coming, Mother!” Murid replied.

  Murid smoothed the front of her dress. Her muddy appearance would likely displease her parents. A princess must always be presentable. They’d told her this many times in her life. She was seven-years-old! She didn’t need constant reminders like she was just a little kid.

  Murid sprinted around the corner and found her mother. Queen Colchi looked like an older version of Murid. The humid air surrounding their home in Soust, the capital of the kingdom, easily frazzled the full, red hair they both possessed. Each had beautiful eyes that people felt forced to comment about at every opportunity. Murid’s deepest hope was for the freckles on her face to fade and reveal the beautiful unblemished skin her mother had.

  Queen Colchi held out her arms as Murid ran into them. Mother and daughter laughed as Queen Colchi twirled the young princess.

  “It would be too much to ask that you kept your outfit clean,” Queen Colchi said.

  Murid glanced at the ground with only timid glances at her mother.

  “I’m sorry, Mother. I saw a frog, and—”

  “And you had to catch it?” Queen Colchi finished the statement for her daughter.

  Murid kept her face on the grass that lined the outside of her home. Behind her, she heard the many servants and guards that protected her family milling about as they completed their tasks.

  “I’m sorry, Mother,” Murid repeated.

  Queen Colchi sighed. “There’s nothing we can do about it now. You better hope your father is too busy showing off for our guests to notice.”

  Murid looked at her mother with hope. Queen Colchi winked at her.

  “I won’t tell him if you won’t,” the queen teased.

  Murid giggled with her mother and accepted her outstretched hand. Mother and daughter entered their luxurious home and closed the sturdy, wooden door behind them.

  Their home’s entrance had a grand foyer. Elegant flowers lined the rails that ran along both sides of an exquisite imperial staircase. Murid knew it was exquisite because her father made certain to boast about it to everyone brought inside their home. Between her parents and many teachers, Murid had learned an expansive vocabulary. It was important to show people how intelligent she was. That way they would never take advantage of her.

  Queen Colchi continued to grasp Murid’s hand as she whisked her toward her father’s private study. As they approached the room Murid seldom had access to, she heard the deep and commanding voice of her father.

  “Please calm down. As always, you’re overreacting, Viktor,” King Haymel said to his guest. “The Corlains have enough land and resources. They won’t continue to expand. We’re safe enough in this frontier to avoid their overbearing rules and regulations.”

  “I’m certain there are many Namerian tribes who would argue your willingness to appease the Corlains will lead to regret,” King Haymel’s guest answered.

  “We aren’t Namerians, Viktor. The Corlains want their stones and the secrets they hold. They don’t care about the rest of us out here,” King Haymel replied.

  “Wrong again. My apothecaries are constantly ransacked and destroyed by the Corlains.”

  “Why?”

  “Sick people are easier to control. If you heal those with ailments, then you become a savior. The Corlains lack many traits, but cunning isn’t one of them. They will take what you have. We must fight them first.”

  King Haymel scoffed. He was about to respond to his guest’s bold claim when Queen Colchi and Princess Murid entered his study.

  “We’ll continue this discussion later,” King Haymel said. “Princess!”

  Murid scampered away from Queen Colchi and thrust herself into her father’s arms. He picked her up in a powerful bear hug and held her tight to his chest. King Haymel wasn’t a physically intimidating man. He was only average height and build, but his mind was sharp. Murid breathed in his musky scent that consistently comforted her. She knew her father would always keep her safe.

  As King Haymel placed Murid down, she looked at the other two men in the room. First was the speaker from the previous discussion, King Viktor from the northern country of Vikisoteland. King Viktor, like many of his countrymen, was a barrel-chested giant among men. He had a thick, brown beard and hard features. The only parts of him that one might label soft were his brown eyes. The brown was so deep they reminded Murid of mud in the fields outside her home after a thunderstorm.

  The second person was a boy but significantly older than Murid. He was lean and tall but not nearly as tall as either king. A small mustache lined his upper lip, and the teenager constantly rubbed it with his right index finger. His name was Hafoca, Prince Hafoca. He was the man she would marry. Her mother had told her as much this morning.

  “Come now, Hafoca, introduce yourself to your betrothed,” King Viktor commanded.

  Hafoca sighed. He seemed to want to keep his disinterest to himself, but the glances that King Viktor and her parents gave indicated he failed. Hafoca stood and rubbed his tunic. His outfit was clean; the soiled green gown that Murid wore stood out in comparison.

  Hafoca stepped forward. Murid felt her father’s hand nudge her forward to meet the man who would be the father of her own children. Not the silly dolls she played with as a child but real children. She’d asked once how to get real children. Her parents laughed whenever they remembered the question to this day.

  Murid curtseyed before Hafoca. He accepted her small hand and kissed it after offering a slight bow.

  “Princess Murid, it gives me immense pleasure to meet you today. I look forward to the day when we become one in the eyes of the gods. Mount Heilagt will rejoice in our union and welcome our children into their banquet hall,” Hafoca said.

  Murid easily kept herself from giggling. The Vikisotes believed in many gods, not just one. It felt odd to her, but her parents told her it was her duty to believe in them too. Even though there was only one God. Apparently, the Vikisotes didn’t understand that yet. Her parents told her it was also her duty to try and get these people to let go of the old ways. It all seemed quite silly.

/>   “Thank you, Prince Hafoca. I am honored that you will have me. I . . . I um.”

  “I will give you strong sons,” Queen Colchi said to remind Murid of her rehearsed line. Murid knew her parents would have words with her later. She came late, dirty, and forgetful. Not even her mother would spare her a harsh scolding.

  “Thank you,” Murid said. “I will give you strong sons and obedient daughters.”

  Murid winced at the last line. Sons and daughters should be both strong and obedient. It made little sense to pick only one attribute for each gender.

  The two kings and queen clapped as Hafoca placed a quick kiss on Murid’s cheek. She felt happy, but only briefly, because she saw Hafoca nonchalantly wipe his mouth after the kiss.

  “Splendid,” King Viktor said. “What a beautiful fiancée. Don’t you agree, Hafoca?”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “Look at those piercing blue eyes. Red hair and blue eyes aren’t something I’ve ever seen. Your wife will be the envy of all men.”

  Always the blue eyes. Her mother’s eyes were a royal jade color, but other women had red hair and green eyes. More than one person had described his or her envy of the rare combination that Murid had.

  “Yes, her eyes are lovely,” Hafoca said.

  Murid’s head snapped to face Hafoca. His words were polite, but his own eyes lingered on her nose and cheeks. Exactly where her dense patches of freckles lived. It didn’t matter how beautiful her hair, eyes, or mother were. People would voice their appreciation of these features while thinking about how ugly her face was with so many freckles. Murid felt the hot burn of tears forming. She willed them away.

  Queen Colchi placed her hands on Murid’s shoulders and moved her closer to Hafoca, who had backed away again.

  “How about these two new lovers enjoy a leisurely walk around the estate?” she asked. “I’m certain Queen Katrin has recovered from her nap. I’ll leave you two gentlemen to your discussion.”

  “Excellent idea,” King Haymel said. “Don’t get any ideas before your wedding night.”

  Prince Hafoca looked disgusted. Murid was unsure why.

  King Viktor chuckled. “Yes, Princess Murid, would you please show my son where you practice your archery? Prince Hafoca has become quite adept at handling a bow and arrow.”

  Hafoca begrudgingly offered the crook of his left elbow. Murid accepted it but only because three sets of eyes were on her with hope and expectance. Hafoca led Murid out of the study, through the home, and into the open air.

  The two walked in silence as Hafoca led her to where the targets waited. Murid had intended on being a thoughtful guide, but the teenager’s long strides made it impossible for her to keep up without running. Murid took a few deep breaths as Hafoca examined the expensive bows laid before him by King Haymel’s servants.

  Hafoca observed the walls surrounding the ten acres protected inside.

  “How many warriors do you have?” Hafoca asked.

  Murid scrunched her face. “Warriors? Do you mean guards?”

  “Where I come from, we don’t have guards. Every man is a warrior first and ready to defend Vikisoteland from any invader.”

  “What about the women?” Murid asked.

  Hafoca smirked. “We have shield maidens as well. Naturally, they’re also prepared to sacrifice their lives. Until they become mothers, of course.”

  “That’s exciting. Will I be trained as a brave shield maiden when I move to your country?” Murid asked with hope.

  “Absolutely not!”

  Murid looked down in embarrassment. Some sting seemed to leave Hafoca’s voice as he spoke again.

  “That is to say, you won’t have to. You’ll be a princess of two kingdoms, eventually a queen. No Vikisote queen should have to go into battle when she has heirs to raise.”

  “I suppose not,” Murid said with downcast eyes.

  “Hey, would you like to see something impressive?” Hafoca asked.

  “Yes, please.”

  Hafoca posed in front of Murid with a devilish grin and an oak bow straddled across his lap. Murid stared at him and waited. Nothing happened.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” Murid eventually admitted.

  Hafoca snorted laughter. “I thought you hailed from an intelligent family? I’m the impressive thing.”

  Hafoca posed again. Murid finally understood, though she would have used a word like arrogant versus impressive.

  “Brilliant,” Murid said with a flat voice and rolled eyes.

  “No sense of humor, huh? Perhaps all those freckles stole the ability.”

  Hafoca laughed profusely at his own joke. Murid felt heat rush to her face. This time she had to blink repeatedly to keep the tears secured behind her eyes.

  “Relax, Princess Murid. I’m only joking. You really do have beautiful eyes. I’m positive full hips will follow them. Now, watch this.”

  Before Murid could take offense again, Hafoca quickly fired three arrows into the target one hundred meters down range. Each arrow struck true in the center of the target.

  Murid stood with her mouth open. She looked at Hafoca with complete wonder. She’d never seen anyone fire so accurately. Perhaps he did have a reason to boast.

  “That was amazing!” Murid exclaimed.

  “It was. I’m glad you agree.”

  “Will you teach me?”

  “Why? I’m told you already know the basics.”

  Murid beamed with pride.

  “I’m actually pretty good. Not as good as you, but my father says I’m better than he was at his age.”

  “Why don’t you show me?” Hafoca asked.

  He smiled as he passed the bow to Murid. She accepted the weapon and nocked an arrow. Murid steadied her breathing as she aimed for the same target Hafoca had hit. The distance was much farther than she usually attempted, but she refused to let Hafoca show her up. Her tiny arms trembled as she pulled the string back as far as she dared. She let loose the arrow and watched it sail. The arrow hit the hay target with a satisfying thump. Unfortunately, the arrow was inside the black portion of the target, indicating the minimum number of points. Hafoca looked quite amused by this.

  He laughed briefly. “I’d hate to have seen your father at your age.”

  Hafoca laughed again. Murid threw the bow down and clenched her fists in rage. Hafoca only laughed harder. Murid closed the distance with him and swung a wide sweeping punch at her betrothed. Hafoca didn’t even try to defend himself. He laughed even harder as Murid pounded him with insignificant punches. Eventually, Hafoca grabbed both of her wrists and held her arms still. Tears poured down her face as her frustrations overtook her. Her emotion appeared to transform Hafoca into a decent human being.

  “I’m sorry,” Hafoca admitted. “I keep forgetting you’re still just a kid.”

  That label forced Murid to sniff. She was a child. She wanted to play, mostly about being a brave warrior, but adults kept telling her she wasn’t allowed to enjoy juvenile delights. Her destiny meant something more for her than the average child.

  “Do you forgive me?” Hafoca asked.

  He lifted her chin with his thumb and forefinger to force her to face him. His eyes held sympathy. Murid sniffed again and nodded.

  “Good,” Hafoca said. “You came at me like a wild crick.”

  “A crick? What’s a crick?” Murid asked.

  “I guess you don’t have those in this part of the world,” Hafoca said while rubbing his chin. “A crick is a beast from Vikisoteland. They stand two-and-a-half meters tall and weigh well over five hundred kilograms. They have hairy bodies with long, poisonous claws, but their heads are scaly with a forked tongue. They stretch hoods around their heads moments before spitting a caustic venom that’ll easily kill the healthiest of men.”

  Hafoca held out his hands as he detailed the beast. The description enamored Murid.

  “Have you ever seen one?” she asked.

  Hafoca put on his devilish smile again. “No
t only have I seen one, but I’ve hunted and killed one. The pelt lines the floor of my bedroom, but the real prize is the venom gland. That venom is priceless to any military. Our warriors use it in battle against the Corlains.”

  “You’ve fought the Corlains too?”

  Perhaps Prince Hafoca truly was a man worthy of her affection. She promised herself to give him the strong sons and daughters he would need to keep their future kingdom protected.

  Hafoca exploded with laughter again. All Murid’s respect for him evaporated with each hurtful chuckle.

  “You fell for it again! I can’t believe you’re the girl my children will have to call Mother. Run along and play dress up or something.”

  Hafoca turned his back and fired more arrows at the far target. Murid considered throwing a large rock at Hafoca’s back, but she knew it would lead to more trouble than it was worth. Hafoca’s shoulders continued to shake between shots. Murid screamed at his back and ran away.

  Murid sobbed as she rushed through the courtyard toward the stables. All her life, Murid had enjoyed the smell and comfort of the stables. After seeing how horrible Hafoca was, she needed the familiar neighs and fragrant hair of her companion, Willow.

  Willow was a chestnut mare. She was old by horse standards, but that suited Murid fine. Her age gave her experience, which meant it was safe for Murid to be around her, even when she had been a toddler.

  Servants mucked the stalls surrounding Willow, but her stall was untouched. Murid had taken it upon herself to see to her own animal’s needs. The servants were good people, but Willow was family. Murid grabbed a brush and stroked Willow’s mane. Willow pressed her head into Murid’s shoulder. Willow always seemed to know what to do to comfort the princess.

  “Oh, Willow, what am I going to do?”

  “Isn’t that the question for us all?” a middle-aged woman asked.

  Murid tensed at her voice. She looked back at the entrance. Gone were the handful of servants. None of them would likely have spoken to the princess without being asked a question first. Murid focused on the entryway.