The Inquisitor - Epilogue

"Shush, my King... do no try to speak." She whispered. "You have been under a spell, and it will take quite some time before you are strong again."

"Then the deed is done?" he asked. His voice sounded rough, sand against glass.

"Yes, my liege." said the princess, bowing her head to him. "Her reign is over."

To her surprise, a tear welled up in his eye, rolling down his check, disappearing into his wild beard.

"T'was my doing. T'was my greed which introduced her to the darkness that consumed her." He said, his voice low as a whisper.

"Do not think on it, my King." soothed the princess. "Steer your thoughts to regaining your strength for now. There will be time for grieving soon enough." She covered his still hardened sex with the bucklers, moving around the bed to his head and neck.

"Do you think you can sit up, my liege?" she asked, her hands under his shoulders, helping him rise up until he sat woozily on the worn out pallet which served for his bed.

"Help me to my feet, my new Queen." said he, slowly outstretching an arm, heavily sliding his legs from under the old bear skin.

They fell from the bed one at a time with a clunk. She slid under his arm and brought him up onto his booted feet. She moved slightly away, letting him test his legs. He stood, only for a moment, before the weight of the armour took over, sending him crashing to the floor in a heap. A growl of frustration escaped his lips as the princess rushed to him. She laboured to push him over, until he lay on his back, breathing hard.

"Your arms and legs have been still for a very long time, my King. They will not work properly right away." said the princess, loosening the heavy breastplate.

She slipped the knots and laid the old armour with its dragon crest aside. He took in a great breath, fresh air filling his lungs. His chainmail shirt lay underneath the plate, covering his chest and arms. It jingled as he moved. With the help of the princess, they at last pulled the mail over his head.

The King moved very slowly, and his lack of control over his own appendages seemed to vex him greatly.

"Patience, my King." soothed the princess, helping him peel away the tattered remains of what the princess could only guess was once a tunic of linen or perhaps burlap. Time immeasurable had dissolved the fabric in many places, leaving only the hint of what the garment once was.

"I have been confined here for many, many seasons." spoke the King. "Yet I have felt every sun rise, and heard every cricket chirp. So much time... so long." His words trailed off.

The princess saw his despair. "Come, my King." She said quickly, hooking her arms under his arms, locking them across his chest. "Let's get you to your feet." She hoisted him back up, surprised at her own strength.

He stood unsteadily, but without the weight of his upper armour, he remained upright. His body rocked back and forth slightly as the queen loosened his belt, laying it aside. She removed the skirt of studded bucklers, laying them next to the jeweled belt and scabbard. She had to surpass a giggle as she looked on him before her, standing naked but for his heavy boots.

She marveled at how quickly the effects of the spell were slipping away. Already his beard and hair were much more vibrant and dark, much of the whites and greys darkening before her eyes. His frame, which at first sight has seemed withered and old, had fleshed out, his chest broad and sturdy, his arms stronger by the minute. No more was he an ancient old man, his back grew straighter as he stood before her. He did not seem to mind his own nakedness. His eyes took on an impish glimmer as he noticed the princess sneaking a peek at his sex, which still stood out against a thick patch of fur.

The princess saw his amusement, and her face colored. With her help, they returned to the old pallet which had been his prison. He sat down heavily, and his brow furrowed at his body's weakness.

The princess knelt down and removed the heavy boots, one and then the other. She stood back, again marveling at how much he had changed in such a short time. His beard and hair seemed shorter, fuller, though still quite long and wild.

At last, he stood, this time under his own power, holding up a hand as the princess tried to assist him.

"No, my love. Too long have I been upon this bed." He said, at last gaining his feet. His knees and arms and back creaked and popped as he stood tall. He stood naked before her, and she recognized the body of the man she had come to know as master and lover.

She came close to him. "T'was you all along, wasn't it, my love?" she asked.

"In a way." he said.

He touched her face softly, his hand sliding along her jaw, wrapping behind her head. Her hair felt soft and luxuriant around his hand. He pulled her face to his, and they shared a long, heartfelt kiss. A part of the princess found it strange to be kissing a man she had actually never met. But her heart knew his, though just hours before it had been composed of only sand and magick, in the form of another. Now she stood in the presence of her true master, her lover all along, and she wept to find him. His arms wrapped 'round her, and they stood together in the darkened room as the High Moon set.

-- -

"Come, my King..." she said. "Let us get you out of this dark place."

He allowed her to wrap his naked form in the old bearskin that had long served as his blanket. As they were leaving, he stopped and returned to the opposite side of the old bed. Clutching the bear's pelt round his middle, he stooped and retrieved a small blue stone from a sconce low in the wall. His back gave a poppity-pop as he straightened up. The stone gave off a faint blue glow. The bear's pelt swished on the smooth stone floor as he returned to her, gathering up his boots as he went by them. The armour he left scattered about on the stones. Once more she wrapped his shoulders with the pelt, and with her arm 'round him, they left the room at the top of the dark tower.

-- -

Outside, the storm had broken, blowing itself out as the wicked Queen breathed her last. A strange calm fell upon the castle. The revelers from the courtyard, who had ground and writhed in passion's grip, had long since sheltered from the gathering storm. They had all retired to rooms to work themselves up again and again, until all lay spent and dreaming.

The princess hurried the King down the long spiraling staircase, hurried as much as his legs would allow. Winding down the tower, they passed windows and arrrowlets set into the outer walls. As they passed an arrowlet facing onto the courtyard, a freshening breeze whispered in, and the King stopped short.

Sniffing the wind he said, "The castle smells of lust." He sighed. "I have slept through far too many a High Moon, and have missed out on the Revels." He turned to the princess, a curious smile in his eyes, but he did not finish his thought. The princess took the cue, again guiding him downward, downward, downward to the hidden passageway. She brought them at last to the doorway outside her own chambers.

-- -

She retrieved the heavy iron key from between her ample breasts. It fit the lock and after a hasty check inside, she guided the King into her rooms. He collapsed into a chair, the effort of descending from the tower leaving him exhausted. He breathed hard in the chair, his brow furrowed in an intense glower.

The princess came to him, kneeling down beside his chair, taking his hand in hers.

"Do not be vexed, my King." said she. "Twill take some time to regain your strength."

"There was once a man in my village..." she began, wrapping a thick blanket 'round him. "who was struck by lightning in a storm, though he did not die."

"I was but a girl, but I remember it. He lay like dead upon his bower for many, many seasons. His wife thought him asleep forever, and took another man in his stead." She added. "But one day, he awoke, as if only a moment had passed, though it had been many, many seasons indeed. He too was surprised at how his body, once so very strong, had failed him, how his arms and legs could no longer move. It was another three seasons before he could even walk, and even then 'twas only with a strange, halting stride."

Turning to the King she said, "You have only been awake for but a few moments, my King, and see how much your own strength has returned." She flashed a beaming smile at him, and to his own surprise, his brow smoothed, his dark mood breaking at the sight of her.

"And what became of the wife?" he asked at last.

"My Lord?" she asked, puzzled by his question.

"The wife... in your tale. What became of her?" he explained.

"As it happened," she continued. "the moment he chose to wake, the wife was standing on the foot of his bed, retrieving some linens from a shelf above where he slept. She was so startled that she lost her footing, and fell, her neck across a chair back. It killed her that instant."

"That is a terrible story, my love." said the King with a chuckle.

"Yes, I know. Mothers of my village used the tale as warning for young ladies to be ever faithful." Her face clouded, her eyes troubled as if remembering. She shook it away and continued. "I only thought of it now because it applies to your own present discomfort. How your own body is so much further along than his, after such a short time."

"Ah..." said the King softly. "There was much more at work here besides a long sleep. I have lain in the grip of dark magick, and though it kept me prisoner, weak and frail, it kept my body from withering away completely."

"But you are right, of course." he went on. "My strength returns little by little, even as we speak... though I pray I do not have to battle with sword and mail any time soon." Again, the soft eyes and smile as he spoke.

The princess looked about her chamber. They remained in the bathing chamber, near the door they had come through from the tower. The princess frowned at the empty basin in the floor. The King needed a bath in the worst way.

As if catching her thoughts, the King spoke. "I must get clean. I have lain still too long, my body itches." The princess looked about the chamber, trying to recall how her maid had filled the tub the times she had watched her. Most times it was already prepared when she arrived, and now she silently scolded herself for not paying better attention.

But with a slight wave of his hand, a gurgling from beneath the stone floor, and water came splashing into the stone basin. Steam rose from it as the water began to fill it in.

She turned to the King. "My liege..." she asked, confounded by the strange occurrence, the water in the bath rushing in of its own accord. "Are you a sorcerer?

"Nay, my Queen." He said, smiling and shaking his head. "I know only a little. I was apprenticed to a great magician long ago, but... you already know that, don't you? No, I possess some skill, but a true sorcerer, I am not."

With a flourish, he stood from the chair, whipping the old tattered bearskin and blanket away, his naked body pale, luminescent in the light of her chamber torches. She marveled at how his body had gained mass and muscle. No more was he withered and frail, but bright and masculine and strong.

He caught her eyes upon him, and allowed them to wander over his body, seeking out what they found appealing. At last, he smiled once more and entered the steaming water of the bathing tub.

An incredibly long sigh escaped him as the warmth of the water enveloped him. After a time he submerged himself, wild hair streaming about him in the water. When he came up for air, gone was the furrowed brow and heavy scowl.

He was quiet for many moments, breathing in the warm steam. He sat upon a recessed step, so that he was submerged up to his chest. He sat still in the water and absorbed the heat. At long last, he turned at the waist, resting his forearms on the lip of the basin, looking intently at the her.

"There is much to do..." He said at last. "Tell me, my dear... Are my kinsmen within the castle walls? I believe I heard their heartbeats as I awoke."

"Aye, my King." She said. "He accompanied the Champions from the tournament. Many of them chose to stay for the Revel, and the sun is not yet up. I imagine they are still within."

As she spoke, she marveled at all that had transpired in only a night's span. Her enemy destroyed, the spell broken, the King arisen; could all of this have truly happened in just one moon's rise and fall?

"Ah, that is good, my new Queen." said he, his voice low and solemn. "You must go and fetch him."

"I am sure Syr'Va'ahl the Wise foretold of what must occur during the High Moon. I have no doubt he witnessed the storm, and Tymrill will know something has happened. He will be expecting you, I think. Go at once, and bring him here , but be most careful. Let no one follow, only bring him to me... There is much to do."

She turned to go, but he called to her as she passed through her outer chamber toward the door. She returned to the bathing chamber.

"Do you still have the sharp blade your nurse used to shave you, my dear?" he asked, a sly smile dancing in his eyes.

Her face colored. She had forgotten this new man knew all her former master had seen. His eyes looked through the eyes of the man-thing of sand as he willed it along, the eyes of the Inquisitor. Her mind reeled as she remembered his touch, how life-like it had been. Not for one moment had she ever thought it unreal. She marveled at the magick of the King. He 'possessed some skill' indeed, she thought.

She fetched the bright blade, and brought it to him in the bath, and then turning back, brought a looking-glass as well. Before she left, she found a robe of heavy fur which seemed suitable for a man in her cupboard of clothes. He inclined his head in thanks, and she hurried off to find the kinsman of the King.

-- -

She hurried through the castle, leaving from her chambers and up through the Inquisitor's chamber of delights. She hurried up the great stair. As she went along searching for the chieftain, she encountered many of the castle's inhabitants. All of them were deep in sleep, spent from the thrustings and lust of the night's Revel. Here a large man and a splendid beauty lay curled under blankets, while nearby lay three women and two men naked to the world atop a great wooly pelt.

As she moved through the castle, she was wary of running across any minions of the Queen. Before the storm, and the demise of the former Queen, most of the ladies-in-waiting had been pumping and grinding away upon various men in the courtyard. She could still hear their moans and wails in her mind, and see their red and flaming bond-stones bouncing in time at their throats. Now she found no trace of them anywhere. Once, her eyes caught a quick movement, a huddled figure scurrying away, but then it was gone.

At long last she found Tymrill, the great chieftain of the outlanders. He lay atop a huge pile of furs. Curled in each of his powerful arms were two stunning maids, fast asleep against his broad chest. But Tymrill slept not, his eyes were bright in the darkness. He saw her approach and gently disentangled himself from the sleeping lasses.

She waited as he dressed himself. Her body and mind remembered his, but she forced the momentary arousal down deep. He pulled on his leggings and a loose tunic, donning his boots and lacing them. Once dressed, he came close to her and spoke in low tones.

"So it is true, then?" he asked softly. "The evil deed has been done, and He has returned to us?"

"Aye, my lord..." she whispered. "He lives! He is below, in my very chambers, even as we speak. He has sent me to find you... to bring you to him."

The big chieftain laughed, a low rumbling like an earthquake in the great barrel of his chest. "The old one was right! I would not have believed it... but here you are! Come, take me to him."

She led him back down to her chambers, and all the while he chuckled to himself.