Nexus Prologue to Chapter 1

PROLOGUE





As the drums beat, Marika walked through the doorway.  Her simple white satin dress embroidered with white sash at the hems fit her like a second skin.  The neckline was low enough to show uplifted roundness of her bosoms.  A sparkling veil covered her face. Her auburn hair sun-kissed with gold hung loosely down her back.  King John, her father, walked on her right as her future husband, Gilson, walked on her left.  He was all in black and wore a cloak with a deep cowl that shadowed his face well.  She could not see his face and so could not see his expression as he turned to look at her.  Why the cloak? She thought quietly. Again, he has gone against the tradition of the royalties. The groom wore their uniform and a sash around their waist. This man is certainly odd.  Together the three turned and walked down between the rows of people clapping their hands to the beat of the drums. 

Down the aisle, ancient statues of the forgotten God and Goddess stood and before them stood a long deep marble vessel filled with holy water.  Tall white candles stood on each side of the vessel. Marika, the king, and Scar, came to stand before the altar.  A priest and a priestess walked from each side of the altar and stood before them.  Both wore elaborate white robes.  The room grew quiet.

“Marika, is it true that you come of you own fee will?” asked the priest in a deep booming voice.

“Yes it is.” She replied stoutly.

“With whom you come and whose blessings accompany you?”

“She comes with me, her father, and is accompanied by all of her family’s blessings” her father replied proudly and stepped back to join his wife in the crowd.  The priestess stepped forward.

“Marika, please face Gilson and hold his hands, palm up, so you may see the gift they are to you.”  The couple faced each other and did as she bade.  The priest asked Marika to repeat a vow.

“I, Marika, in the name of the of the spirit of God and Goddess that resides within us all, by the life that courses within my blood, and the love that resides within my heart, take thee, Gilson, to my hand, my heart, and my spirit to be my chosen one. To desire and be desired by three, to possess three, and be possessed by three, without sin or shame, for naught can exist in the purity of my love for thee.  I promise to love three wholly and completely without restraint, in sickness and in health, in plenty and in poverty, in life and beyond, where we shall meet, remember, and love again.  I shall not seek to change three in any way.  I shall respect thee, they beliefs, they people, and they ways as I respect myself.”

The priestess turned to Gilson, “Gilson, please hold Marika’s hands, palms up, where you may see the gift that they are to you.”  And so they reversed their positions and she asked Gilson to repeat the same vows. 

“Lovely Goddess, bless the hands that you see before you this day.  May they always be held by one another.  Give them the strength to go on during the storms of stress and the dark of illusionment. Keep them tender and gentle as they nurture each other in their love.  Help these hands to continue building a relationship founded in your grace, rich in caring, and devoted to reaching for your perfection. May Marika and Gilson see their four hands as healer, protector, shelter, and guide.” The priest and priestess intoned as one.

Then the priest stepped forward. “By the power vested in me by God and Goddess, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

A cheer exploded.  The drums and clapping resumed with great enthusiasm.





         









CHAPTER ONE







Marika startled awake.  There was a sense of foreboding in the air.  Something was not right.  She had been feeling trepidation and a knowledge that something has already happened.  Of course, things have been strange since the day of her wedding.  That was only a week ago and still it seemed like yesterday. She had never met her husband-to-be until she stood by him at the altar.  He was dressed with a black, cloaked and hooded.  She couldn’t see his face and still had yet to see it.  Marika looked around at her surroundings.  The night was quiet with everyone asleep except for a few guards outside.  Her husband was not with her in the pavilion.  He had not slept by her since the wedding and they have yet to consummate the marriage as Gilson and his father were in a hurry to return home.  Marika sighed.  In a way, she was glad that they have yet to share intimacy.  Each night that they camped by the road, he would go into his own pavilion, leaving her to contemplate her future, and the mystery her husband continued to bring. 

Her husband. 

There was really nothing she knew of him other than that his name is Gilson and the son of Duke Luthio of Diala City.  The man came to her home with his father requesting her father for her hand in marriage and that it proceed quickly.  Father and son, both, were adamant that the marriage to her takes place. Her father had argued of this inappropriate request.  They have argued against a marriage to her sister insisting that marriage with Princess Kala was not adequate even though she was the eldest and only a year younger than Gilson as apposed to Marika’s ten years his junior.  It would have made more sense that he would take the advantage of the benefits that marrying the eldest daughter of the King would provide. Despite the fact that for as long as her sister does not marry, he would become the next King for he is now the elder “son” of King John. At least until the Sanguis Ferrum chose its successor.  Marika did not care for the mystery the father-son team was presenting.  On the night before her wedding she had overheard her father commenting how odd these two men were behaving and how not once he had any communications from the Duke since his former wife had died after answering a call for help. He had no idea why or how she died.  King John only knew that it was urgent that she went because she was one of the powerful Spellcaster throughout his kingdom.  Marika could not sleep and gave up trying.  She lay awake staring at the ceiling of the pavilion thinking of the odd events since their wedding day. 

On the morn of the wedding, King John had shut himself with the two gentlemen for hours.  He had come out looking grim and angry.  Marika had pelted her father with questions regarding this meeting.  He only stayed tight-lipped and ordered her to get ready.  It angered her that he would not confide in her, as he was wont to do. To her shock and that of her family, her father had presented The Sanguis Ferrum to Gilson.  This legendary sword, unremarkable in appearance, was supposed to bequeath down through the bloodlines of Kavanagh and the eldest son; in this case Mikee, her baby brother. Gilson had no claims to such bloodline.  She did notice, however, that her father was reluctant to hand over The Sanguis Ferrum and wondered what caused the decision to give her husband the sword.  Her brother who was going on thirteen within a month was red faced with anger, but had not voiced his objection to the loss of his inheritance, his legacy. 

To her frustration, Gilson would not answer any of her pointed questions and he avoided her as best he could.  He rode in front of the company with his father while she rode in the center surrounded by their men.  In fact, no one would speak to her.  She felt alone and frustrated.  If anything, she felt like a sacrificial virgin on her way to the ceremony.  She groaned, rising out of her cot.  There was no way she will get any sleep this night.  She might as well do something to useful for the time being.   

A shout broke into the night.  She quickly put on her robe and exited her pavilion.  A lone boy no older than twelve rode into the camp, yelling incomprehensively.  She recognized the young man as one of the squires.  She moved forward, when a strong hand clasped her arm.  Marika turned to glare at Gilson.  Damn him!  She could not see his face for he still wore that damn cloak and hooded.  Lord Luthio came to stand by his son. 

“Let him through.  I know the boy.” She ordered through clenched teeth.  When her husband made no move, she turned to Lord Luthio.  He studied her face and after several seconds motioned for the boy to come through the guards.  The squire rode through and stopped in front of her. She was alarmed at how disheveled he looked.  His clothes were torn and covered in blood and soot. He was weary with travel and looked to be ready to fall. 

“Your highness, please, you must come back.  The palace has been under attacked!” the boy blurted out before he could pass out.  Marika gasped and moved quickly forward to grab the boy before he hit the ground. 

She gasped again as pain shot through her temples.  Somehow, despite having her mental shields erected, the boy penetrated her mind.  She felt his pain as if it was her own.  She realized that she had to sever the contact.  The boy was exhausted and near death trying to reach her.  Tried as she might, she couldn’t undo it.  He had too strong a hold on her.  If she did not break it soon she too will die along with the boy.  Grayness surrounded her vision accompanied by rainbows of colors.  Pain pressed from behind her eyes.  She clenched her teeth against the pain.  Someone grabbed her arms and shouted her name.  The voice sounded so far away.  Her eyes rolled up into her head and blackness finally engulfed her. 







The palace had erupted into chaos.  Camron ran to find his superiors, but couldn’t find the Swordmaster.  A fellow squire ran past him.  Camron grabbed his arm before he could get too far. 

“Natal, What’s going on?” He asked

The boy’s wild eyes went over Camron’s young face.  “Don’t you know?  Can’t you hear all that screaming outside?”  Camron could only shake his head.  The noise inside the palace drowned any noise coming from outside.  “We’re being attacked Cam!” Natal blurted out anxiously.

“What? By who?” asked the bewildered young squire.

“I don’t know.  The city’s on fire.  There are strange monsters out there killing everything on sight.”  The other boy pulled his arm out of Camron’s grasp and ran down the corridor.  “These creatures are demons, Cam, I swear.  They shouldn’t exist!”  Natal called out over his shoulder. 

Camron couldn’t believe his ears.  He shook his head again in denial.  The young squire searched around and ran down the corridor in the opposite direction. He slid around corners as he ran for the closest public balcony.  He held fast before he could fall over the terrace.  His jaw dropped as he saw the massacre beyond the palace walls. 

Everything was on fire.  Black smoke rose high into the sky blocking out the afternoon sun.  Black clouds formed and lightly ignited the dark sky.  A silhouette of a giant bird circled the city.  Camron gasped as he realized it wasn’t a giant bird.  It had wings of a bat and its body was that of a wild feline.  “It can’t be!” he whispered harshly to himself.  The creature swooped down and breathed fire onto the city.  A dragon! He thought wildly.  They don’t exist!  They can’t!  Screams could be heard from far into the city. 

Within the palace grounds, he could see soldiers fighting black cloaked creature. Monsters, hideous, monsters roared and easily trampled eight men at once. Camron couldn’t move. His feet were rooted in the same spot for long moments.  This cannot me happening! His mind kept babbling. His gaze slowly turned to the Great Steps.  Other creatures ran through the splintered heavy doors. 

They have penetrated the palace itself.

The thought seemed to unparalyze the young squire.  He ran back inside.  He had to fight with his friends.  He did not have to go far before he encountered the first of the creatures. One of the black cloaked one.  It had grabbed a screaming servant girl.  It put its draped arms around her muffling her screams.  The boy could hear a sickening sucking sound and suddenly the muffled screams stopped.  It opened its arms again, turning to the squire.  He stared.  Where was the girl!  He stumbled back searching wildly for something he might use to fight this thing. There was nothing he could find to use and he turned around only to run right into another of this black cloaked thing.  Its arms already open as if in welcome.  His hands went up in protest but to his horror, his hand sank right into its being.  It was like sticking his hand into an ice cold mud only he couldn’t pull his hands back out.  The cold travelled up his arm and down his body.  He could barely move due to the freezing sensation this thing was causing him.  He wanted to scream but no sound would come out.  He tried again to move his hand out to no avail. It slowly closed in on him and he sank deeper and deeper into its frozen body. His mind screamed NO! over and over until consciousness slipped away. 



Slowly, but groggily, Camron work up, groaning.  I must have drunk too much last night. He thought as his head pounded with ferocity. He opened his eyed and sat up so fast he was dizzy.  He was in the dungeons and remembered all that transpired all too clearly.  He heard weeping in the small cell.

“He-Hello?” He called to the weeper. He inched closer to the man. He could see that it was a noble by his clothing.

“They are gone! My whole city and palace destroyed!” wept the man.  It didn’t take much to let the young squire know that this man was the King.

“Your Majesty!” He cried.  He grabbed the king shaking the man, “Please, we must find a way out.”

“No way out.  Those monsters.  Did you see?  They destroyed everything. Killed my Kala, my Benita!,” The old man turned and grabbed the boy by the shirt, “Snapped their necks like twigs!” the weeping resumed.  Young Camron was now beyond help. 

The cell door opened and one the ugly monster stuck its massive head inside.  He grunted and with its meaty hand motioned for them to come outside.  Camron grabbed the king by the arm dragging the older man as best he could to the door.  The old man came without protest, weeping consistently.  Camron couldn’t help but stare at the monster.  His green skin glistened with sweat and the scent of death wafted toward Camron. The young squired tried not to gag.  The green thing growled its thick lips set in a perpetual snarl, showing off his sharp teeth.  Saliva dripped down his chin.  His yellow eyes glared menacing at the boy.  He wanted to cower, but stood his full height holding the King up.  Behind them, a Black Cloak stood waiting.  Camron stood terrified. The green monster growled and pushed them forward as the Black Cloak glided backwards.  They almost stumbled from the brute force of the push, but followed the cloaked figure.  Camron realized they were being escorted to the throne room. 

The king was thrown in front of an imposing woman, Camron forgotten.  The young squire at first couldn’t take his eyes off the woman.  She was breathtaking beautiful.  Long black hair hung down her back.  Her dress was slit down her right leg showing off slender calf.  She had no jewelry on.  Everything about her seemed sensual and soft. 

“Well my King?” her voice had sexual undertones but was hard and low.  Camron shuddered.  He knew he had to get out.  Slowly, painfully slow, he backed out away from the mass of green creatures huddled around the throne and the King.  Camron knew there was a secret tunnel that led miles away north of the palace.  He could sneak out, find a horse, and seek Princess Marika out.  He was able to find the secret panel without problem and without detection with obvious relief.  It took him two hours to get through the secret passageway without a hitch.  He dropped with exhaustion.



Marika woke with a headache.  Wincing in pain, she put her hand to her head.  Her husband sat by her and offered a cup of herbal tea.  She looked around.  They were in her pavilion.  Sunlight poured through the flap.  From the angle of the light, Marika judged it late morning. 

“Camron?”  He shook his head.  She stared at the cup and tears streamed down her cheeks.  Gilson put his arm around her.  She shrugged it off, and looked up at him.



“Why don't you show your face?” her voice croaked. He shook his head, “I'd like to know why they call you Scar.”  He turned away.  Duke Luthio walked through the flap, glanced at her then turned to look at his son expectantly then quietly spoke, “Boy, you can't hide that face forever.”  Gilson turned his back away from them both.  Marika could hear him take a deep breath. 

Then Gilson turned back to Marika, his raspy voice came out from under the hood. “How do you know what they call me?”

Marika shrugged, “I hear things.” She wondered if he was stalling for time.

“Indeed,” he responded dryly, pulling back the hood.  Marika bit her lip from gasping.  She slowly closed her eyes, took a deep breath and opened them again.  His face was scared severely.  His nose was flat and stretched.  His leathery skin formed a series of sloughs all over.  She wondered how he could have been burned so badly in his life. She then remembered her Dream.  The city engulfed by fire and a dragon in the sky, breathing fire.  And I thought dragons were only myths.  Not able to suppress the shutter, Marika looked away.  Never had she seen such horror.  She forced herself to look at him again.  Looked right into his eyes...Oh god his eyes!  She couldn't help but stare at his baby blue eyes dark with sorrow.  Those piercing eyes stared at her and she couldn’t help but feel as if he was delving right into her soul.  She suppressed a shudder, but held his gaze.  Finally, he pulled the hood back up. 

“How did that happen?” She asked slowly.

“Not for anyone to know.”

“Oh really?” a tint of anger in her voice, “Not even your wife?”  She got up, putting her hands on her waist, “The wife you avoided since the day we left home?  The woman that you and you damn father so insisted that you marry?! ” He looked at her for a minute, looked at his father.  They seemed to communicate silently with their minds.  She was tempted to touch their minds, but it would be unethical of her.  He looked backed at her thoughtfully.

“Lady, it would not be advisable for me to tell you.”

“Advisable? Why not?”

“Because Lady,” he shot back angrily and blurted, “it is a rather painful memory of your mother’s death.”  He swore after he realized what he had said.  That was a shock, especially for Marika.

“You knew my mother.”  It was more statement then question, and she stared at him in disbelief.  She watched him leave her pavilion followed quietly by his father.  The older man paused and seemed to want to say something but thought better and left.  She sat numb for only a few seconds and then as if moved by an unseen hand, quickly dressed and went out in search of him.  She found him grooming his black mare and walked slowly to him, trying to search his face for the truth.  “What happened to my mother?”  He didn't say anything. “What happened?”

“It is not for me to say La-“

“Oh, don't Lady me!” she spat back.  She huffed out a breath as she left him and looked for her mount.  After saddling it and mounting it, she turned her horse and headed south, back to her home.

“Where are you going?” came a harsh, loud voice.

“Back home, my Lord Scar.”  She bit of the last sarcastically as she turned in her saddle and looked at him expressionlessly.  Gilson strode toward her, staring at her in anger.

“Are you mad, woman!?”

“Mad?” she looked toward south.  “My family's dead! But my father and brother may still be alive for all we know.” Marika nudged the horse to move.



“It's too dangerous for you!”  Marika kept on riding, ignoring him. “You can be killed out there!” 

“I can take care of myself.  I know how to fight,” she called over her shoulder, “besides who are you to tell me what to do?” A hand grabbed the halter, roughly.  Her mount shied away.  Marika turned, glaring at Gilson, and daring him to do something.  She waited. 

“You don't know what may still be there.” Gilson said softly, ignoring her question.

“Yes I do.” She looked at him, searching his face.  “I Saw the battle.  I Saw what had happened to the city and the palace.”  Her voice quivered at the last words and tears slid down her face.  He looked at her with sympathy.  His eyes showed her his understanding.

“You could have been kil-“

“As if I didn't know that.” Marika snapped angrily at him, nudging her Arlene to go. “I was taught the use and the dangers of my Gift.”

“Yet you still did so with the understanding that connecting minds with someone who's dying can also kill you?”  He asked quizzically.

“I had no choice,” she exclaimed, “He locked his mind with mine.  I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t severe the tie.” The last was said in a whisper.

“How can he?  He's not Gifted!” Gilson claimed wildly.

“He doesn't have to be!” Marika turned exasperated, “Oh, forget it!  I'm going, with or without you.”  She declared and nudged the horse to move on again.  Gilson didn't follow, which she was glad.  She felt as if The Goddess, herself, was laughing at her.

For hours she rode toward her home in the south, only a week away.  She would have to make time.  She rode fast, wanting to get home sooner than possible.  Night fell and still she rode, she didn't even stop at any villages to rest.  For two days, she kept this pace, stopping only to rest her horse, Arlene, for a while and eat.  She felt numb as she rested by a creek near a village, staring out into nothing, thinking only of her family and what she might find.

“What does that wretched woman want with my father?” 

“You could ask the wretched woman yourself,” a deep, scratchy voice sounded from behind.  She gasped.  An old man stood behind her, leaning against his ancient cane.  “Sorry to frighten you child, but I do suggest that you wait your husband.” Marika stared dumfounded.

“Wha-Who are you?” She looked around, finding her horse being led by a stable boy, “and where are you taking my horse?”  The boy jumped as if caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and then looked at the old man. 

“He's taking poor Arlene to the stables where she can rest.  And my name is Quin Nasser. Please to meet you Princess Marika.”  He bowed gracefully and mockingly.  Marika chuckled, shaking her head.  She studied him as he stood there waiting.  The old man looked to be in his nineties with a lined friendly face that smiled at her.  He wore the robes of the monks, brown with a rope tied about his waist.



“You're The Wise Man.  I have to admit, from what Katria said, I expected you to look a bit…younger.”

“I'm flattered that you thought that, my dear,” he turned slowly heading to the village, “Come let us talk of your crisis over dinner.  You must be hungry.” To her surprise, Marika realized that she was starving.  She really had not eaten that much in the past couple of days.

As they ate, Marika started telling her tale, from the day she married Gilson to the time she got to the lake.  Duncan listened with rapt attention.  When she finished she was very tired, and in need for sleep.  However, she had to wait to hear what he had to say.

“I'll tell you this, child,” he glanced at her, “you will need more help that only Gilson and Katria know how to get.”

“How will I find Katria?  I haven't seen her since father remarried and Gilson is impossible!” she exclaimed.  He held up his hand.

“Katria will find you in due time.” he looked up toward the entrance.  “Ahh, there's your husband now.  Greetings, Gilson.”

“Greetings, Quin.” he spoke roughly, and glared at Marika.  She was surprised at first to see that his hood did not cover his face but quickly glared back with more vehemence.

“Now, now, you two.  This is no time for you two to be so disagreeable.”  He motioned for Gilson to sit down and ordered food for him.  “Now, Gilson, you and your father had been scheming this ever since I told you of this girl.  That doesn't mean to keep her in the dark and have her do your will without her consent,” he sat thinking a little, “I think you should tell her, and let her decide.”  Gilson opened his mouth, but Quin cut him off.  “I'm sure she will go along.  After all she has just as much reasons as you do for your plans.”  Gilson thought for a while, at the same time, the serving girl laid down his food.  He looked speculatively at her shapely figure.  Marika narrowed her eyes. Quin cleared his voice.

“Keep your mind to this, young man.  Remember you have a wife now.” Gilson blushed a little, and gave Marika an apologetic look.  She was surprised.  She wondered about his true inner makeup.  He nodded at Quin.

“All right old man.  I'll explain everything to her.  But I think it would be best if we are alone.”  Quin smiled, nodding his head in agreement.

“What is better than your own bed tonight?  I ordered a room for you both.”  He chuckled as he got up.  “Well I'm to bed, children.  I advise you to do the same.”  Winking at Marika he walked away to his room.  Marika stared after him. She couldn't believe that he did that.  He had ordered a room for them behind their back.  A room for a couple.  She shook her head, astonished.  She looked at Gilson seeing that he, too, felt the same.

“Does he do this often?”



“Huh?  Ah, yeah. Though, I've never gotten used to it.” He smiled sheepishly.  She raised her brows.  “He makes me feel like some risqué teenager,” he explained, turning his attention back to his near empty plate.

“Oh, I see.”  She got up, waiting for him to finish, “So tell me.”  Gilson waved his hand impatiently.

“Once we are in the room,” He looked around, “This should be explained in private.” 

After he had eaten, they headed to their room. Gilson opened the door for her to get in.  He motioned her to sit while he closed the door.  Marika took her seat on the large bed, waiting for his story.

“I don't know where to begin,” he said thoughtfully, “Your mother came to Diala City, because my father had asked for her help.”  Marika kept quiet, not wishing to interrupt him.

“That was after the witches started to sacrifice many of my people, and that my mother had attempted to fight the witches.  She was very weak and sick, but went anyway to fight them.”  Tears started rolling down his cheeks.  Marika felt the urge to wipe them.  “She died immediately.  Father was enraged.  He blamed your mother for not coming at the first Call for help from my mother.  ‘Did you not receive such a Call from her?!’  He yelled at your mother, after she arrived from his Summoning.  She claimed she never got the Call.  Then she was in a rage for never having received such a Call. ‘All members of the Magi were to be Called!’ you mother had said.  But by then it was too late for her to Call for them.  She left to fight the witches.  I followed her secretly to watch the battle.  It was the most horrifying battle of Will I have ever seen.  All of the sudden she collapsed.  She never got back up.  A small dragon had come down swooping towards her and me. It breathed fire over her and continued to breathe until it turned to the sky.  I was in the line of fire.  I ran as fast as I could, but, never the less, I got caught in the flames.  I-I-I blacked out after that.  I-I do not remember what happened after that.  But they had ceased the sacrifice over the years until recently.”  Gilson stopped pacing after he had said the last words.  Dried tears showed on his cheeks.  His voice was hoarse from talking and from grief.

“When Quin came with news of you.  Father jumped at the chance. We couldn't get the Council of Magi together, for they said it was out of their league.  You were our only hope.  Father decided that I was to marry you.  I begged him to reconsider, to go about it differently.  He s-said that if we just came and asked for help, you would refuse.  So I went along with his scheme.” 

Marika looked at the scarred young man, a bit dazed at what he had told her.  She had never known how her mother had died and now she knew.  At first she felt bewildered and then angered that these two men had kept the most important thing from her, but that anger subsided quickly as she realized that they were afraid.  She wasn’t sure what she was feeling except that she would gladly help Gilson and his father.  But there was more that he was keeping to himself.  What is he hiding from me?



“I-I'm sorry we forced you into this.  If only he wou-” She cut him off, shaking her head.

“Your father didn't know, neither did you.”  Gilson kneeled at her feet.  “How could you?” she continued softly taking his hands in hers. “He was only doing what he thought was right.”  He looked at her, his eyes gleaming with tears.

“You know,” he said too softly that she had to lean forward to hear, “when I first saw you, I was totally taken by surprise.  You looked so much like your mother, only so much more beautiful.  I wanted so badly to tell you, but I was bound to my promise.”  Marika shook her head, a little confused.  She looked deeper into his eyes and saw what she thought she would never see in any man's eyes.

Love.

She didn't understand this.  She felt his love with her empathic gift through her weakened shield. But did she love him?  I hardly know him.  How can I love him? She wondered if it was love at first sight for him or if he gradually came to love her in the past week and a half.  I wonder if he knows that I have more than just telepathy or what my Gifts really are?

She raised her hand and smoothed it over his face.  She felt the scarred flesh and tears spilled down her pale cheeks.  Gilson squeezed his eyes shut and pressed her hand against his cheeks.           “I don’t know what to do or think.” She spoke quietly, “I’m confused by all this and angered.” Marika took a deep breath.  “I need time for all this to settle in me Scar.” He nodded in understanding and stood. 

         “Then you should sleep on it.  And tomorrow we will continue to your home.”