Heart of a Kingdom Page 11

  Will O’Malley stepped in with, “That’s enough of that. Let’s see what you can do without your swords and shields.” He knew that they weren’t ready to be done yet, but that hand-to-hand sparring would lessen the likelihood of severe injury. Dy, the first to put down her weapon, never took her eyes off Kurtis but exercised care. The Weapons Master wouldn’t be forgiving of a lack of respect for their swords and shields.

  Kurtis was a good head taller than Dyanna, but just as winded. There was no way he was going to let himself be beat by a girl, even though he’d seen his Aunt Libby best Uncle Dale in the ring on more than one occasion. Dy was just as determined and competitive as their aunt.

  Connor Chaney shook his head. He was proud of his little girl. He was also worried. He knew how headstrong she was, a lot like her aunt, and he wouldn’t be around to protect her from herself. He shook that feeling off and started shouting instructions to her and cheering her on. No way his girl was going to lose to a boy, not even a fellow knight like Kurtis.

  Kendra was just as fired up as Connor, and they had a side wager going on which of their kids would come out on top.

  Libby could see what was going on from her office window but chose not to participate. She smiled. They were definitely her heirs, and struggling with the etiquette requirement, but doing reasonably well given their age and the unique situation they were in. Kurtis and Dyanna were evenly matched in their integrity, fighting skills, and healthy ambition. She was relieved she didn’t have to choose a successor yet. The forcefield was holding, and they were far too young for either to get married and assume the throne.

  “You know you’ll have to choose one, eventually,” came the deep voice behind her.

  Libby turned to see Michael sitting on the chair at her desk, swinging his little legs back and forth.

  She smiled. “Hello, Michael.”

  “Hi, Mom,” he replied. She’d never get used to hearing that. She’d desperately wanted to be a mother, and it had taken years to resign herself to the fact that would never happen. She’d made the best of it and doted on the young people in her life. But seeing Michael here made her healing heart swell.

  “Mom, I’ve been watching over you for a long time. Since the day I died.”

  Libby didn’t know what to say, so remained silent. Her heart hurt at the reminder.

  “I know how hard it was for you. How you blamed yourself. I also know that you shut off that part of your heart to protect yourself from the pain.”

  “Michael, how could you know that?”

  “I just do. And that’s what I want to talk to you about, because I see you doing it again, only this time there is too much at risk and I can’t let you.”

  “What are you talking about?” Libby knew he spoke the truth but didn’t want to rip open the old wound. It was so much easier to deny it than to feel the emotional pain that came from confronting it. Still, she didn’t want him to go.

  Michael climbed on to the desk and motioned for her to sit down so he could look her in the eye.

  “Mom, you have to know that my death wasn’t your fault. Neither was Dad’s. Back then, you still had a strong, healthy heart. And when you walled part of it off, the rest of your heart compensated. You don’t have that luxury now. Compartmentalizing any part of your half heart will kill you. But I can help you, if you’re willing to let me.”

  Michael stared into her eyes, searching for her answer. Libby knew she didn’t have a choice. She couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving her again.

  “I don’t suppose it can hurt worse than what I’ve already been dealing with,” she replied.

  “Well, it won’t hurt worse. Just different. But it will get better, I promise. Mom, you’re going to have to feel the feelings, even the ugly ones, and then let them go.” Michael climbed off the desk and into her lap. She wrapped her arms around him and the tears started to flow. The anger and sadness she’d denied herself to feel after he died came pouring out. Losing him had been unfair.

  “Good, Mom. Feel it all. And then you have to forgive.”

  “Forgive what?” she asked, sniffling.

  “Everything. Everyone. Forgive yourself for something that was beyond your control. Forgive Dad for not being there. Forgive the universe for not letting you have children. Forgive everyone else for having healthy children. Forgive. You have to forgive.”

  “How do I do that?”

  “Gratitude. Simplistic, I know, but effective. Find all the things you are grateful for about the experience. Say them aloud.”

  Libby stared at him, mouth agape. How could there be anything about losing him that she could be grateful for? She was horrified at the thought but was suddenly desperate for his company.

  “I’m grateful for you,” she began quietly. “I’m grateful I got to love you and know you existed. I’m grateful I got to see your spirit so that I could recognize you when the Spirit Council convened.” She stumbled. “I’m grateful I get to have you now, even though it’s only because Dale died.”

  She was openly sobbing now. “I’m grateful my sisters have healthy kids. I love them and I’m grateful to have Kurtis and Dyanna in my life. And Fynn, too. None of them were you, but I love them as if they were.”

  Michael let her cry it out. When her sobs quieted, he put his hands on her face and smiled. “You did good, Mom. Gotta go now. I love you. I need you to love yourself, too.”

  Libby closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, she was alone in her office.

  Chapter

  Memories

  Michie arrived shortly after Libby fell asleep, like she often did. “Hello, Mago-chan,” she greeted Libby with a slight bow.

  “Hello, Grandmother. What lesson do you have for me today?”

  “One you already know well, and we’re going to cheat. After all your hard work, we finally have a shortcut available to us. Do you remember all the dream memories you had as a child? Riding my horse into battle? Wielding my sword and my bow?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Well, it’s time to start your training again while you’re awake. You’re still weak, but I’m going to run you through the dream memories while you are asleep each night. While you are awake, it will simply be a matter of letting your body and brain remember it and building up your stamina.”

  “Finally,” Libby laughed, “something easy.”

  “Not easy,” corrected Michie, “but hopefully a way to make up lost time. Are you ready?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Okay, just sleep and dream. I will be there but will not participate unless needed. Remember, these are my dream memories, not yours. This is just for your brain and body to remember battle skills. Nothing more.”

  “Thank you, Grandmother.”

  “Good luck, Aisling. Good luck, my dreamer.”

  The dreams were like they always were when she was a child. Libby dreamt her ancestor’s memories like they were her own. She was fierce and fearless, and she was a master. She could feel the weight of the katana in her hand. She felt herself wield it in battle, on foot or on horseback, but without the pain her body felt during the waking hours. She fought and hunted with her bow. The dreams were a lot more detailed now that she was an adult and could process things differently. She could see and hear the pennant blowing in the wind in front of them, a white dragon on a black field. She remembered how to balance arrows, and dream-learned how to restring her bow and make her own arrows. She learned how to bear the weight of her armor, and the difference it made in battle. She fought battle after battle, trained hour after hour, all in her sleep, until the motions were ingrained in her. Her muscles would remember them without her having to consciously will them.

  Michie left her alone but was always close by. When Libby saw her husband take an arrow, she felt the anguish and pain at the same time she heard Michie’s voice next to her telling her it was just a dream. That it wasn’t Dale, it was Ryunosuke, to keep going. Many times, this was
enough for Libby to pull the panic back in. When it wasn’t, Michie would yell for her to wake up. Those nights looked the same to the LIWs, who assumed she’d awoken sobbing from another nightmare. The grief was almost unbearable. To be forced to carry both hers and Michie’s was cruel, but it was the only way.

  Michie, like the other spirits, no longer held the emotions of that memory. She knew there was more than this physical life. It pained her to see her granddaughter suffer. She wished there was another way, but they had no other options. She thought back to when she was alive. Time didn’t have the same power it did in the living world, especially without the added weight of emotions. She remembered the day clearly. She and Ryunosuke had fallen in love despite being in an arranged marriage. It was unusual and it was envied. They were stronger because of it.

  In the ancient Japanese tradition, any king who didn’t have sons would marry his daughter off to a respectable second or third son of a good family, and legally adopt him to carry on the family name and be the figurehead of the Kingdom. Michie had been groomed to run the Kingdom her whole life. Battle strategy, weapons, finance, law, and anything else her father deemed necessary. As a Japanese woman she was also trained in the feminine arts of flower arranging, diplomacy, household finance, kimono, art, and music. She could have run the Kingdom as both King and Queen if societal norms would have allowed it. She resented being forced to marry, and no one was more surprised than she was when she fell in love with Ryunosuke after the heart graft. He was a good man, a loving husband, and a fair king. He was her equal and respected her as such.

  Unlike Dale and Libby who, with knights and LIWs, took turns facing threats to the Kingdom, Ryunosuke and Michie always rode into battle together with only a minimal escort. On this day, they’d set out for the border to deal with an oni, an ogre, who was threatening a small village. They didn’t know that the oni had been allowed in by Tanaka, a samurai who’d been one of the many suitors for Michie’s hand. When Michie’s father had chosen Ryunosuke, Tanaka was furious. He was power hungry, and the only way to gain the throne was by marrying Michie. He didn’t know about the heart graft. Nor was he aware that if Ryunosuke died, Michie would likely follow and the Kingdom would cease to exist. He’d plotted for years, and on this day, he succeeded in part of it. While Michie and Ryunosuke were battling the oni, Tanaka fired an arrow that pierced Ryunosuke’s armor, lodging in his abdomen.

  Michie and her bodyguard had time to get Ryunosuke back on his horse and ride hard back to the palace. Through sheer will, Michie kept the force field alive while the wizards tried to figure out a solution to keep Ryunosuke alive as long as possible. She’d dispatched the knights to finish off Tanaka and the oni. She forced her feelings down. She was a queen. And she was Japanese. It was inappropriate to demonstrate emotions in front of others, but she was screaming on the inside.

  Against the odds, her knights destroyed the oni, but not before he cast a dying curse. Michie and Ryunosuke would not be reunited in the spirit realm, until a queen managed to tame a black dragon. Michie had been too distracted with surviving the loss of Ryunosuke and regrowing her heart to pay much attention to the oni’s curse. At least until she herself crossed over into the spirit realm and couldn’t find him. Fortunately, her wizards had chronicled everything. Despite thousands of years of fires, floods, and wars, a single scroll survived to end up in the royal archives of the Kingdom of the Talking Trees. The scroll that Awen had found.

  Michie looked over at her sleeping granddaughter. Maybe that’s why she and Libby were linked, why Libby experienced Michie’s memories as her own. Their lives were on a parallel path that somehow overlapped across the centuries. Maybe Libby would be the one to break the curse and reunite Michie with her beloved. All this time Michie had assumed Ryunosuke had moved on to another plane of existence. When Michie first saw Jasper she’d felt a glimmer of hope. Perhaps the oni spoke truth that day.

  After weeks of Michie’s dream memories, Libby finally began to incorporate archery and sword training into her waking routine. It was moderate since she still got winded easily, and she remained on oxygen at night and between trainings. The first day back in the ring was emotional. It was the first time she’d put on her armor and weapons since Dale had been injured. Each buckle and tie brought back a flood of memories of the morning he’d left to face Skarra. Libby paused when she got to her sword. It had been her father’s. Kokichi had retained the katana after his retirement from the throne, but after his death Libby had replaced hers with his. She slowly unsheathed the sword to examine it more closely. The katana was flawless, lightweight and perfectly balanced. It still had his crest on the tsuba[2], and every time she held it in her hand, she remembered his lessons. Now, after training with Michie’s dream memories, she wasn’t quite sure who was wielding the blade.

  She finished dressing and headed out to meet her friend Will in the training ring, hand on her hilt. Will O’Malley was responsible for the bulk of her weapons training, but as she regained her strength, she’d spar with each of the knights and LIWs to keep sharp. She’d always loved training with the wiry Weapons Master. He made her laugh, which made the ass-kicking she usually got a little more tolerable. This was the first time they’d entered the practice ring since Dale’s death and the Queen struggled to keep going. A simple parry that she should have been able to do in her sleep, saw her lose her balance and end up on her hands and knees. Will didn’t cut her any slack, and she loved him all the more for it. He was able to show her how to rebalance her sword and shield to accommodate her weakened physical condition.

  He was also a history buff. Will’s chatter about the history of weapon design and how they were used and implemented in different parts of the world reminded her of Dale. She smiled as she remembered the two of them talking for hours between dodges and parries. The smile quickly turned to tears as she felt the sting of his absence. If Will noticed he was too much of a gentleman to mention it, instead saying he needed a break.

  Libby nodded gratefully and quickly turned away to the attention of her heirs. Will watched her walk off with concern. He knew the kind of pain she was suffering. Losing his wife to cancer almost broke him. Even now it still hurt, and he’d had years to get used to it. He wanted to hug her and tell her it was all going to be okay but knew that might be all it took for her to lose the composure she was fighting to keep in front of everyone. It was unfair for her to be saddled with this duel and responsible for the death of everyone on Earth. He admired her strength and resilience, but worried about her. They all did.

  He stood, absentmindedly stroking his bright white goatee, as he looked around at the group they’d assembled. Each of them had a personal relationship with the King and Queen. They were friends before they were knights and LIWs. They were a family brought together by bonds of love and loyalty. As he scanned those assembled, he made eye contact with Geoffrey. He knew Geoffrey was thinking the same thing. Libby’s sword work was impressive given the circumstances, but she was still weak and lacked stamina. They must continue, no matter how painful it was. After an almost imperceptible nod, Will picked up his sword and shield and shouted at Libby that he was done with his break if she was.

  Libby grunted quietly as she forced herself out of the chair. Oh my God, it still hurts to move. She was exhausted, but there was no way she was going to embarrass herself by quitting.

  “Bring it on, old man,” she challenged.

  Will laughed out loud and with his thick Belfast accent flipped back, “I intend to. Old man, eh? I hope those sassy pants you’re wearing protect your ass from the whooping you’re about to get.”

  Awen had an armful of scrolls when Maggie appeared behind her, tapping her on the shoulder. The scrolls flew out of her arms as Awen jumped, then scrambled to catch them before they fell to the ground.

  “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” the wizard screamed at Maggie. Communicating with spirit was Krystal’s talent, and Awen was still easily startled when one of the Cou
ncil made an appearance.

  “Apologies, wizard. We have some things to discuss.” Maggie motioned for Awen to close the door to her office.

  Awen dumped the scrolls on her desk and complied with the request. “What’s up, Maggie?”

  “Since you are going on the road with Libby, the burden of this task will fall to you.”

  “Great, this sounds fun, what kind of burden exactly?” Awen asked with a nervous feeling in her gut.

  “Libby is making progress physically, but she is still weak spiritually. In order for her to be ready to defeat a dragon, she will need to clear and balance her chakras.”

  “Okay? That seems reasonable enough and she’s been working hard at yoga and meditation.” Awen wasn’t sure where this was going.

  “All of her chakras. She will not object, except for one which will be an obstacle, because she doesn’t believe she deserves it.”

  Awen felt her heart sink as she quickly figured out what Maggie was trying to say. “Sweet Goddess, you’re telling me that I have to convince her to find the pleasures in life? Beyond what she’s already been doing?”

  Maggie nodded, “She has to remember what that joy is, and not shut it out or resent it. It’s possible she’ll reach it eventually, through good food and music, massage therapy, among other things. But that’s not guaranteed, and the quickest way to do that is for her to connect with a man. I don’t need to remind you that the clock is ticking.”

  Awen lost it. “Are you kidding me? Her husband just died! How the fuck am I supposed to even bring it up in a conversation? It’s beyond insensitive, it’s ridiculous! Why can’t you do it?” She demanded, grateful the door was closed since she was yelling.

  “I will set the stage, but you are the one that will find the opportunity to speak to her about it. And she doesn’t need to fall in love, just to remember and appreciate the joys of physical pleasure.”