The King’s Fury

The river ran backwards on the day the Queen vanished. The sky turned crimson, and the livestock dropped dead. The earth shook as the King’s fury grew, creating fissures throughout the nation. Every citizen, poor and rich, feared it was their Judgment Day.

“Go!” the King yelled at his knights. “Find her! Or it will be your heads that next disappear!”

And so, seven search parties were formed and sent to the seven duchies of the kingdom to track down the lost Queen. They were not expected to return for weeks, even months, and only if they were to be successful in finding the Queen. Some of their loved ones expected to never see the knights again.

That fact did nothing to ease the King’s anger. All around him, his kingdom was dying. As each day passed, another village reported a flash flood or wilting crops. Unseasonable lightning storms sparked uncontrollable forest fires, and the reversing of the river took all the fish back out to sea.

The King’s advisors tried to calm their majesty, but their words only made him more irate. By the thirteenth day after the search parties had been sent, three of the seven advisors had lost their heads. The remaining four minded their tongues and stayed out of the King’s way, for fear of being next.

On the thirtieth day, the King stood at a window in his throne room watching his latest lightning storm as it struck the straw rooftops of the buildings surrounding his own castle.

“Sire,” one of the remaining advisors said in a shaking voice, “we must do something. The whole village will burn down, along with the castle, if we do not!“

“Let it!” the King hissed through clenched teeth. “None of it means anything without Queen Persephone.”

A second advisor, his hands trembling, stepped forward.

“Sire, please, your subjects—”

“Mean nothing!”

The King glared back at the third advisor, as though daring him to speak, but he merely swallowed against the knot in his throat. The King then looked around for his fourth surviving advisor, but she was nowhere to be found. He returned his gaze to the storm as a bolt of lightning hit a stable, frightening the horses and causing them to gallop into the streets.

“Just leave me,” the King said, his voice dangerously low.

The three advisors froze, unsure of how to act. As they were just about to obey the King’s wishes, the grand double doors swung open to reveal the fourth advisor accompanied by a limping young knight. The knight clutched a scroll close to his chest.

“Your Highness!” the fourth advisor called. “We have news of Queen Persephone!”

The King’s shoulders stiffened, and he immediately turned on his heel to face the fourth advisor.

“Well?” he spat. “What is it? Where is she?”

The fourth advisor glanced at the young knight and nudged him gently. The knight limped forward and bowed to the King before presenting the scroll to him.

“She’s been kidnapped, Your Highness,” he said, “by the Avarian Kingdom.”

The King snatched the scroll from the knight’s hand and unrolled it. His eyes ran over it once, twice, thrice—narrowing further and further with each passing line.

“What-what is it, Sire?” asked the first advisor.

The King’s nostrils flared, and the earth shook.

“Those lowlife Avarians to the East have taken Queen Persephone, and they want me to surrender my crown to them if I ever want to see her again,” the King growled. He directed his narrowed eyes at the knight. “You! Boy! Where is the rest of your search party?”

The knight swallowed.

“We were ambushed, Your Highness,” the knight said, his eyes to the ground, “by the Avarians. They only let me live so that I could deliver that message to you.”

The King stared at the knight for what felt like an eternity, then turned towards the windows facing the East. He crumbled the scroll in his fist.

“Well, if they want my crown, they will have to tear it off my head,” the King declared, shaking his fist with the scroll in the air.

“What-what of Queen Persephone?” the first advisor stammered uncertainly.

Silence fell across the throne room. Every muscle in the King’s body tightened. Everyone watched as he cracked his neck first to the left and then to the right, taking deep, even breaths.

“We will get her back,” the King finally said after several minutes.

“How?” the second advisor said, almost inaudibly.

“We have an army,” the King said, “we have sorcerers, and we have me. They will be no match for us in war.”

“War?” the third advisor said. “Sire, that might be a bit—”

The King’s head snapped to the third advisor, and the man instantly shut his mouth.

“We are going to war,” the King declared.

The four advisors nodded their heads.

“Yes, Sire,” they said in unison.

“We will meet to discuss details tomorrow after the noon meal,” the King continued. “For now, you are dismissed.”

The advisors nodded again and scurried out of the throne room. The fourth advisor was the last to leave, escorting the limping knight.

As soon as they made it down the hall, the knight pulled the fourth advisor into a shadowy nook and held out his hand.

“I did what you wanted. Give me my pay,” he whispered.

The fourth advisor pulled a pouch of gold coins from the oversized sleeve of her black robe and placed it in the knight’s hand.

“Just make sure that you tell no one about this,” she replied.

The knight nodded as he opened the pouch and fingered the coins.

“Are you sure you know what you are doing?” he asked.

The fourth advisor pulled her head back, as if struck.

“How dare you speak to me that way! Of course I know what I am doing,” she said.

“What if Queen Persephone returns?”

The fourth advisor’s crimson lips curled into a wicked smile.

“Oh, do not worry. She will not.”