There was a long moment of silence and Minion wasn’t entirely sure if Patrick had understood him, but finally he said, “Very well, take me to her.”
Patrick walked towards the little man, closing the distance between them.
Minion coughed discreetly and gestured at his nakedness. “Perhaps you should put this on first.” Minion took off his cloak and handed it to the Irishman.
Patrick’s face heated. “Of course. Thank you.”
#
“Why must I wait here?” Patrick asked. Minion had brought him to an abandoned well at the bottom of the crevasse that served as a moat. Above and not far away was the drawbridge.
Minion sighed. “The Lady Katherina is in a hurry to see you. If you enter Greensprings looking...like this, you will cause a ruckus. I will fetch her to you in this private place, and bring some fresh clothes.” With that, Minion scampered off between craggy rocks and thick brush.
Patrick pulled himself tiredly onto the edge of the well to sit. Dazed, he tried to make sense of it all. How long was he gone? Where had he been this whole time? What had he been doing? Why did Katherina suddenly want to see him? Was she sorry? How could he face Aimeé?
Eventually, he realized that it didn’t matter, because soon she would be here and see him wearing Minion’s little rough cloak about his waist, like a barbarian. He was going to have to face it all. In the meantime, he was afraid to let himself hope that their relationship would go back to the way it used to be.
More time passed, and still neither the princess nor the dwarf appeared, and dark thoughts started play across his mind. An elaborate joke. Minion wasn’t bringing Katherina; he was bringing Loki. Others would laugh at him.
But still
, he reasoned,
Minion had been wandering around the forest for no other apparent reason...
Before he could allow this thought to blossom into some new hope, he heard crashing in the brush and the little man burst at a dead run from around the craggy rocks. He passed Patrick.
“Oi, Minion what...”
Almost as an afterthought, Minion stopped suddenly and ran back to Patrick, whereupon he pushed him squarely in the chest. After that, he turned and ran again, not bothering to hear Patrick’s shocked cry or the splash he made at the bottom of the well.
#
King Mark entered the throne room and sat. He flung one leg over the arm cavalierly, but tiredly, and sighed.
It was only a matter of time before word was out that Loki had been forced from the isle. It was quite possible that Mark’s tenure at Greensprings was over with, and not just his stewardship. He would take total blame, as a good knight should. Sir Corbin would make an excellent steward, and he had an excellent staff of knights to support him.
Mark sighed again.
“Thinking about your decision?” Christianne approached the throne and took Mark’s outstretched hand. Hers was tiny in his, and his grasp was strong and the warmth of it always felt good.
He smiled tiredly. “Of course.”
“You did the right thing. Everyone knows it. Don’t torture yourself over the matter.”
“Oh, but I must,” Mark replied. “I am ‘King’ Mark, and must analyze and fret over every matter. Banishing Loki on top of the death of Jason, the breach in the keep defenses and the inquest will most likely cause me to be stripped of...everything. Perhaps it would be best to distance yourself from me.”
Christianne nuzzled and kissed his hand. “No, never.”
Mark pulled her down onto his lap and hugged her. “I was hoping you would say that. I had to try, you understand?”
Christianne giggled. “I know. And now I will do my duty as queen of morale, and shall cheer you up.”
She commenced to tickle him where she knew he was most vulnerable. Mark jerked and cried out. After moments of her attack he was laughing and all his problems seemed faded. He stood up with her and threw her over one of his shoulders, and began to tickle her while she was helpless.
“Stop,” she cried. “I can’t breathe!” They carried on for some time, then Mark let her down.
“What’s this?” she asked, bending over to pick something up from the floor next to the throne. It was a sort of jewelry box, on it was a small label that bore Mark’s name.
Mark looked puzzled.
“It seems that somebody is feeling sorry for you and wants to make you feel better,” she said.
“You didn’t have to do this for me, Christianne.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t. Honest.”
Mark took the package and looked it over. He shrugged himself and removed the wrappings. Inside was an ornate hinged wooden box. This he opened, and displayed the clear glass bauble inside. Christianne gasped at the sight of it.
“This is no mere gift,” she said. “I’ve never seen such a thing. Surely it is a treasure.”
They gazed at the object.
“Curious thing, isn’t it?”
It appeared to be a glass orb filled with fluid. Inside was a diorama, a tiny graveyard with a dead tree and crosses.
“Oh, look,” Christianne said, gently taking the thing. She shook it lightly and white flakes began to move about in the fluid like snow. Mark grunted in surprise. He took it back and shook it even harder. When he held it still in his hand to watch the miniature snow storm go into effect, however, his eyes grew big when the object levitated above his palm and jumped to the floor.
Before the gasps were out of their mouths, the bauble exploded in a silent flash that engulfed the entire keep. It spread from the throne room at the center of Greensprings to its furthest walls in a heartbeat, forming a brilliant shell of white light that pushed air before it, sending a shock wave that bent every tree and shrub in its path. A storm of dust, loose branches, and dead leaves exploded outward from the keep as if a rock had been dropped in a pond, ripples spreading in every direction.
Unlike such a splash, however, the shell of light did not collapse in on itself and dissipate, but rather solidified, becoming more distinct in shape, and darkening in color. It became a tangible object that encased the fortress under a dome.
Wispy clouds coalesced over this dome. First in barely discernible mist, then in thick cottony clouds that darkened in hue like the dome itself, from gray to angry purple, then to black. These grew in mass and began to swirl in a clockwise motion, gaining momentum. Lighting flashed in their bowels, revealing every hue of midnight. Bolts licked out in every direction, but most kissed the surface of the dome, which by now was just as dark and opaque as the clouds. Wind blew fiercely ahead of the clouds, and the clouds snuffed out the last sunlight.
As the dome lurched forward, it grew and engulfed more land. Its surface, though black, was now as scintillating as the surface of a jewel, or a star-filled winter’s night. With its growth, it became more spherical, as if a ball were rising from the earth, holding Greensprings captive at its center.
As the storm raged outside of the sphere, its inside was a different story.
It was calm. Almost completely silent.
It was snowing inside the sphere, and oddly, snowing even inside the buildings. What wasn’t covered with snow was sheathed in ice and frost, and a ghostly light illuminated everything like starlight reflecting off of snow. The only sound was the faintly raspy sound of snowflakes gathering.
Not a soul stirred, as every occupant of Greensprings was frozen in place like a statue—walking, sitting, working, or playing.
In the throne room, Mark was still reaching for a falling globe that was no longer there. Christianne stood behind him with hands to mouth. Both had looks of shock in their frost-covered faces.
#
“What on earth is happening?” Katherina said, rubbing her shoulders in the cold wind. Loki gazed at the gathering clouds in the sky over Greensprings, the hint of a smile on his face, but he said nothing.
Katherina fidgeted in the cold. “Do you have blanket or something?”
Loki seemed in a daze, but said distantly, “Yes, yes of course. In the carriage on the passenger seat.”
As she moved to the carriage, Loki spied Minion jogging down the road to the chapel, brow glistening with sweat and wet spots ringing his neck and underarms.
“Master, I did it!” he cried in between gasps.
The Viscount gazed at the approaching storm clouds. “It would appear so. You left it in the throne room?”
Minion, bent over on knees catching his breath, nodded.
“Splendid, then Greensprings is now an anchor point. How poetic. That surpasses my wildest hopes. I’m delighted the globe exploded in the keep and not while being jostled in your pack. I honestly didn’t expect you to survive the journey.”
Minion blinked, but shook off the statement. “I also took care of something else that was troubling you.”
Loki raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“The Irishman, I pushed him in a well, and if he didn’t break his neck from the fall he...”
Loki caught movement from the corner of his eye and knew the Lady Katherina was exiting the carriage. He tried to gesture for his servant to drop the subject, but it was too late.
“The Irishman? What of Sir Gawain? Did he turn up finally?” she asked. Minion fidgeted. The storm was almost on top of them, turning day into night. “Well, answer me.”
Loki stepped between her and Minion. “My Lady, don’t worry about it. He is of no concern to you or me. As a matter of fact, nobody in Greensprings is.”
Katherina’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not convinced you really want to go back there. Trust me, you are meant for bigger and better things. Those people in Greensprings had no right to tell any of us how to act, how to behave. They shouldn’t be evicting anybody. They are the ones who deserve to be punished. Well, I took care of them all. Consider them...preoccupied.” Loki took her hands in his. “Permit me to take you away. Let me make you a queen
―
my queen.”
Katherina shook her hands free of the Viscount. “What do you mean ‘preoccupied’? Just because I thought that place silly, does not mean I meant them harm. And I already am queen.” She took a step back, as if seeing Loki for the first time, a hint of a scowl creasing her brow. “What is it with you men? You are like boy with toy.” She pushed past Loki and grabbed Minion about the collar. “What of Patrick, what did you do with him?”
Loki sighed deeply and bent down to the wooden box, the one that housed many bottles. As the princess interrogated the hapless servant, Loki selected a clear bottle, unstoppered it, and upended the bottle into a napkin.
“I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but I guess it was too much to expect everything to go according to plan.”
He approached Katherina from behind and covered her mouth with the moist cloth. She struggled violently, but he hung on tight, long white fingers clutched over her face. Eventually, her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she sagged into his arms. Loki handed her limp form over to Minion, who placed her inside the carriage.
“Oh dear,” Loki said, his attention suddenly drawn across the brook.
There, at the edge of the trees, stood the maidservant Aimeé. She started at the sight of Loki staring back at her and Minion putting the slack form of Katherina inside the black carriage. Then she bolted like a deer back in the direction of Greensprings.
“This is becoming absolutely ridiculous!” Loki shouted.
“What is, Master?”
Loki pointed angrily in the direction of the bounding Aimeé. Minion swallowed hard.
“She can’t do anything,” Minion pointed out. “She’s alone now.”
Loki shook his head. “I prefer to leave nothing to chance. We need as few loose ends as possible.” He reached behind the chauffeur’s seat and retrieved a crossbow and several bolts. These he shoved into Minion’s hands. “Finish her, quickly.”
Minion moaned. More running.
#
Patrick Gawain was in shock. Though from which the most, the cold water or the fact that the little bastard had pushed him in, he was not sure.
He floundered in the water and tried to orient himself in the narrow well before he drowned. He should have considered himself lucky: the well was old and abandoned but fortunately full of water. He regained his bearings and fought for the surface of the icy water.
Before he reached it, however, a bright light flashed across the surface, then the water became even colder, if that was even possible. Patrick shed the heavy cloak and swam harder.
Just when he thought he was going to break the surface of the water, his head struck an invisible barrier. Dazed, he reached out and moved his hands along a cold transparent ceiling. The more he beat on it, the more aware he became that it was a thick sheet of clear ice. He tried moving from one end of the well to the other to only find that it was completely capped.
His lung burned, and then seemed to cave in. His sight was growing dark and his vision was becoming tunneled. His senses were leaving him, moving out of reach into a din of panic.
His last blows to the ice propelled him downward and he didn’t have the energy to swim up again. He continued to drift as if he already were a waterlogged corpse. He had been dead for days already anyhow. He just hadn’t laid down yet.
A slight smile curled at his lips, for now he knew what it meant to have one’s life flash before one’s eyes. Everything, crystal clear. His mother’s worried eyes, David of York’s affable face, Marcus Ionus’ Avangardesque smile, Waylan’s good natured taunting. And Katherina. “
Patrick, no man is an island
.”
His heart beat loudly in his ears. The visions and his consciousness seemed to come in flashes that corresponded with each heartbeat, and when his heart slowed, and so, too, did the visions.
Patrick’s slight smile turned to sadness. Though he was content that all would soon be over with, he couldn’t help but feel that he had failed. Failed just about everything, and was tricked into an icy death by a little ugly servant.
End, just let it end
.
Patrick’s feet touched bottom as the first of the water began to trickle into his lungs.
#