Stones

by Lydia Kurnia

Lydia Kurnia lives in Sydney, Australia, with her husband and a budgie. When she doesn’t write stories, she spends her energy on music composition, animation and photography. She loves Speculative Fiction and spends a lot of her time in her favourite Online Writers' forum -- Fantasy-Writers.org. STONES was written for one of the forum's monthly contests and is Lydia’s first publication.

"What are the boundaries of love and sacrifice,
where does one draw the line between them?"
- Jude Ellis

P R O P H E C Y

Yvran limped through the fortress gates and started searching for her.  Two months Yvran had fought -- giving blood and steel for his king -- but now with his wound still oozing blood from beneath his armour, he needed only Sheera Har.

He found her at the refuge site, murmuring indecipherable words to one wounded warrior, then on to the next, healing. Her hair was tied back, beautiful raven curls shimmering in the sun, a striking contrast against her translucent pale skin. She looked exhausted yet determined, seizing the fate of the warriors with the power of her hands.

She was a Symron. Her duty was to save their souls.

Yvran’s attention was momentarily distracted as a nurse came to stitch and bandage his wounds. She was skilled but her ministrations were terse. He cursed at his clumsiness in the battlefield. When it was over, the nurse patted his hand lightly and walked away. Yvran looked up and found Sheera standing before him. Her emerald eyes glowed with relief as they gazed into his.

At that moment the world seemed to stop, the crowd disappear. As if in that desolate dirty courtyard, their wordless exchange would rescue them both.

She knelt beside him. "If you think the nurse was harsh, wait until you hear what I have to say to you."

"But I came back alive," he defended himself. "And I would have much preferred your gentle touch."

She raised one eyebrow, amused. "You don’t need to be on the wrong end of an axe to gain such a wish."

"Ah, I should have guarded my flank then." Humour danced in his eyes and he released a chuckle. It quickly changed into a series of bloody coughs.

"Don't speak," she said, reaching out her hand to administer her healing power. But he grabbed it and traced his lips gently across her knuckles. Her familiar scent tinted with remains of the war overwhelmed him. Yvran sighed and surrendered himself in it. He held her gaze in a silence while he examined every single evidence of longing on her beautiful face.

"You missed me," he whispered softly.

"I did." She ran her fingers along the rustles of his beard.

"There was no way to shave it in the war," he said sheepishly. "I hope that won’t stop me from gaining a kiss."

She hesitated, not wanting to risk a kiss in public; but Yvran gestured at the pillar behind which they were hidden and tried a persuasive look. With a gentle sigh, Sheera leaned forward to seal his lips with hers. She tasted of honey, and he savoured her hungrily. She pulled him close. For a moment they were lost in each other’s worlds, hearts beating faster, the scent of wanting thick in the air.

"Will you still love me when I am his?" she whispered, her voice filled with regret and sorrow.

He pulled her close and cupped her face with his hands. "You need an answer to that?"

She bit her lip, fighting the tears and failing. He wiped them with his thumbs. "You will be queen one day. That is your destiny."

"Destiny." She sighed. "No one ever asked me what I want."

For a moment he struggled to control his emotions. It had been written in the stones, and what the stones revealed, the world believed. She was a Symron, the last of her race; the only hope for the union of all the nations in Wyria and one who would bear the ruler of the new era.

She was not his; she belonged to Wyria and his king.

He leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead. "You cannot change your fate, my love, only the Gods can."

A tear rolled down her cheek she quickly wiped away. "Let me heal you," she said brusquely.

"I don't need healing, I need---" He stopped. To say more was to ask for what he should not. "You look exhausted," he said. "You need rest."

She cast her eyes away and Yvran knew it was a time for strength. "The king?" she asked.

"He lives." Yvran rose to his feet, wincing at the pain throbbing along his side and led her out into the open courtyard where the king, his liege and his truest friend, stood before them all.

"This calls for a celebration," king Taron roared. "This victory confirms that Beruth will be the one to rule all of Wyria! A shining star in these lands of strife and war." The king’s eyes roved around the yard to seek his Symron, eager to share his moment of triumph. When his eyes met hers, his face slowly blushed in sheer excitement that made him look almost boyish. "Soon," he said, "I am going to marry the most beautiful woman in all the lands. My Sheera..."

A shadow shifted in Yvran's eyes, but he could say nothing.

Taron gestured to his future wife and most loyal friend to join him. He drew her to his side and pressed a soft kiss on her forehead. She managed a wan smile while forcing herself not to seek her lover’s eyes.

The king turned to Yvran, his gaze was mixed with affection and worry. "How are you feeling, my friend?"

"We have our victory, I have few complaints," Yvran answered and smiled.

The king laughed and reached out to give him a comradely clap on the shoulder. Yvran winced at the rough treatment but chuckled with him. "You fought well, Yvran," Taron said. "I couldn't have done it without you."

The King pulled Sheera closer as if to claim her. "Come, my love, your job is done. Let me take you home."

Yvran followed them with his eyes, every cell of his being screamed in silent rebellion.

She belonged to the king. She always had.

L O Y A L T Y

"You will be loyal to me till the day I die," king Taron told Yvran as they hid against the rocks, waiting to ambush the sponsor army of Gorath.

Yvran frowned, uncertain at the sound in his tone. "My liege," he said, "for that, you shall have no doubt."

"Do you love her?"

Yvran raised his eyebrows, surprised, and finally realised where this conversation was going. But the king did not wait for his answer; instead he looked solemnly into the desert where the Goraths appeared from across the horizon. Yvran quickly signalled the other warriors to get ready.

"I can see it in your eyes when you look at her," the king continued, his voice custodial. "So I must hear it from you."

Yvran's heart wrenched, feeling remorse, but then he thought it absurd. He had not betrayed the king and he had not committed anything other than the sin of longing. He had stood by his friend when his love was given away three years ago, and since then he had not once allowed himself to be alone with her. She was his queen now; he had long relinquished any hope of anything else.

But he still loved her.

The silence in the air was deafening as Yvran struggled to choose his words. But the king seemed impatient. He reached for an arrow, placed it against his bow, and looked at his friend with a haughty raise of an eyebrow.

"Your silence is the answer to my question," the king said before he released his arrow.

It flew out into the air and gave away the ambush. Shouts rang out and the Goraths dispersed to form their defence. Yvran looked about, trying to assess the situation, but the king had already risen to his feet and was running out to face the enemy. Yvran sighed and gave his order. He would follow his king.

They all ran now, swords firm in their hands and flying sand bursting from beneath their boots. A Gorath sword struck Yvran's shield just as he reached the king's side and he wrestled violently to make the kill. A breath of wind brushed his neck, a flung dagger barely missing. He turned and two Goraths were charging.

Yvran roared and their swords collided. He spun around, stabbing them one by one with ease. He could hear the king bellow the battle cry beside him, encouraging all the warriors. Yvran stayed close, guarding the King’s flank as he had so many times in battles.

Three Goraths advanced towards them. Yvran threw his dagger to puncture one in the neck; and he saw Taron stabbing his sword through another. But the last one escaped, and Yvran's eyes widened. The enemy raised his axe to behead the king. Yvran launched himself forward and grabbed the Gorath by the waist. They landed in the dirt on their stomachs with a force that could dampen thunder. The Gorath grunted and kicked. Yvran felt his shoulders burn as if a lightning had stroked him. He crawled up onto the enemy's back, and with all his might, thrust his sword through his neck.

Yvran fell to the ground, he could sense Taron's eyes glaring at him in momentary shock; but there were more attacking. He pushed himself back to his feet and continued to fight until finally the tide of battle turned in their favour and the enemy broke from the desert. Yvran seized his bow and shot arrows towards the fleeing enemies. The other warriors did the same.  Without waiting to see whether their aim was true, they moved to shoot another and another until no Goraths remained in sight.

It was finally over. The warriors fell onto the sand, panting, and blood-smeared. Yvran looked around to examine the state of his army and spotted two with broken arms but the rest seemed to have suffered only minor injuries. Yvran turned to the king. "What the hell was that?" he asked, breathless and exasperated.

"Victory," the king said, and then he stood and turned to address his warriors. There was no hint of remorse on his face. "We have put them to their heels," he shouted in triumph. "And by noon tomorrow, we will have conquered the eighth nation in Wyria!"

At this, the warriors cheered. The king laughed and looked at his friend with a smirk on his face.

Yvran, still panting, rose to his feet. Was Taron insane? Had the triumph over seven nations in the past three years delusioned him as to his own invincibility? His army's? It was indisputable that Taron was a great leader, but his methods were erratic. Yvran sighed in surrendered acquiescence.

"Well, that was foolish and dangerous," he said, shaking his head. And then he grinned. "But entirely worth it."

Taron laughed heartily. "I quite enjoyed the element of surprise."

"Well, you're the king," Yvran answered, glancing at him, glad that they were both still alive.

The king fell silent for a moment as he gazed onto the desert. "I'm glad you're still quick to defend me," he said finally.

"Did you doubt my dexterity, king? Surely I have not aged that much." Yvran brushed the remnants of Goraths off his neck, feeling suddenly sick to his stomach.

Taron looked at his friend. When he spoke, his voice turned cold. "No, just your loyalty."

Yvran shot him a sharp glance, scandalized. "What do you mean by that? I will never betray you."

The king sighed and looked at him squarely. Something shifted in Taron's eyes, something that stirred discomfort: a challenge. "Let the blood of the Goraths be the seal to your oath."

Without hesitation, Yvran picked up a gory stone and presented it to his king. "With this stone and blood of Goraths, I pledge my eternal loyalty to you, my liege."

Taron seemed satisfied for he grinned in response, looking more like himself now. He did not take the stone, but walked away.

Yvran shifted nervously. He knew exactly what the king had meant. The test was about to begin for he had been summoned to the queen's chamber tonight ... alone.

S A C R I F I C E S

Yvran saw her waiting for him on the balcony of her bedchamber; she did not sleep in the same bed as the king. Yvran closed the door behind him and stood still, watching her.

She had her back to him, her raven curls floating in the wind. Wrapped in an alluring autumn-coloured gown, Sheera looked absolutely divine. He could see the silhouette of her body underneath the sheer material, a shadow of grace glowing invitingly in the silver moonlight.

It was a long time since he had been alone with her. And there had been moments when he felt close to losing his composure. He felt it now, fluttering violently just at the folds of his heart.

"My queen," he said, placing his hands behind him, his posture formal, carefully distant.

Sheera turned around, smiled and walked to him. "Yvran, cease with that 'my queen' nonsense, we are in the presence of none other."

That was precisely why he had to keep her title.

He felt her arms around him. He cringed and she awkwardly pulled away. "You need not be so cold," she said, her gaze accusing.

"I apologise, my q..." He stopped. "Sheera." He corrected. "I didn't mean to be."

A wry smile formed on her lips as she led him to the balcony. For a moment they just stood side by side in silence, watching the stars scattered across the black cloudless sky. He could feel her warmth and struggled to keep peace with his desires. The closeness was torture. Suddenly all the memories of their love swarmed into his mind, and for a moment he had to hold his breath to maintain his calm.

"I wish the wars would be over soon," she said, opening a conversation.

Yvran smiled ruefully. "Everyone does. Even with your power, we are starting to tire of these battles."

He looked out onto the desert. "But the real fight is the one at the next council meeting where the king will negotiate peace with the two remaining nations. Let us hope that Taron will be convincing enough to win the treaties and end this once and for all." He sighed and lowered his head. "I am tired, Sheera. I feel the burden of my men on my shoulders... I hope... that tomorrow's battle will be our last."

He felt her hand on his temple. Her touch was light yet the force it sent through him was staggering; and she had not even begun to use her power. He jerked slightly, so she pulled away. Their eyes met and for a moment they were lost in each other's longing, but neither dared make a move.

"I... miss you," she whispered, her eyes glossy with anguish.

"Sheera..." he started, looking away for fear that he might ravish her there and then.

She took his face between her palms, gently caressing his cheeks. This time, it was business. She closed her eyes and murmured her words. Yvran felt a warm surge of calmness overwhelm his mind and the agitation quickly melted away. Her power never ceased to amaze him. He began to understand why a Symron could help strengthen an army. It was all in the soul; that was the way to conquer the world.

When she opened her eyes, Yvran could sense that something was wrong. His awareness was always heightened after the healing. He took her hands. "You're bothered," he said.

She sighed. "I will not join you in tomorrow's battle." She paused and was silent for a long time. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely audible. "Yvran, I'm pregnant."

Yvran raised his eyebrows, surprised. "Congratulations." He knew that was not what she wanted to hear from him, and cursed himself for not knowing what else to say. So this was it. The prophecy had truly taken its course. Wyria would be united and a Symron king would rule the new era of success. She had fulfilled her role dutifully.

"I have done all they wanted from me: I let them snatch me away from my family, marry me off to the man I do not love; I helped Beruth conquer the seven nations in Wyria, and soon I will give birth to the heir who will rule the new era." She snorted. "I feel... imprisoned, bound by obligation, and denied my love. Once the child is born, I will go to the council of twelve and request my freedom." She looked up to meet his eyes. "Are you with me ... still?"

Yvran was silent, torn between what he wanted and what was right. He reached to touch her face. "I am with you always," he said. "But I must ask you to reconsider this request. Tell me, Sheera, does he pain you so? Does the king not treat you well?"

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Taron is ... a great king; he knows how to lead his people," she answered. "But he cannot give me what I need."

She sighed then walked across to the bed and looked away. Yvran felt the pain as he watched her tears roll down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I will not ask what you cannot give."

"I cannot betray my liege and my duty," he said. "But I can give you my love, my pledge. I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe." He paused. "Sheera, the council of twelve will not take kindly to your request. The king's wedlock is eternally binding.  If you---"

"I know very well what will happen!" she snapped.

"Then I beg you to not take that route."

Slowly, he removed the stone that had symbolised his pledge of loyalty to the king, and placed it on the table by the bedside. "My place is with my liege, but my heart is always yours," he said. "If you leave him, it will give the council means to sentence you with heresy; they were already bitter about a Symron taking the title of the queen. Surely you must see that it will not end peacefully."

"I am disappearing!" Rage started to burn in her eyes. "I cannot bear this life! I must leave and claim what is rightly mine," she turned to him, and added, "with or without you."

Yvran opened his mouth, but she raised her hand to him. "Leave me," she said softly.

He stood still for a moment, not knowing how to respond. Then he walked to her and bent down to kiss the top of her head. But Sheera turned around and kissed his lips instead.

"I love you," she whispered softly.

Yvran sighed and she looked away. He could not give her what she wanted, not when he, himself, was bound by duty. There was nothing left to say, so he turned to walk out of the chamber.

He did not notice the two maids staring at them in nervous shock from behind the curtains.

C O N D E M N A T I O N

The news about the queen's pregnancy sent Beruth to another string of celebratory days. But it was not long before the rumour about the child's validity started to taint the kingdom.

The king was angered. He excommunicated his queen away in the tower until the child was born. Yvran began to worry for her but agreed with Taron that in many ways, it was better for Sheera. She would be safe in her solitude, away from the torment of the nation. But it was clear that the situation was getting out of hand.

A few months later, when the child was born, the council of twelve ordered the queen arrested for an alleged crime of adultery.

Every night, Yvran came to visit her in the cell and every night she turned more and more solemn. He wanted to save her but she refused his attempts. When he offered to take her place, she threatened to kill herself. Yvran felt helpless as he watched her gradually withering into defeat at her fate.

As the trial day drew closer, she asked to be left alone. Yvran could do nothing but grant her wish in grave compliance. But never once did he fail to visit her even if it was only to stay by the entrance of the prison.

The night before the trial, Yvran found the door of the cell already ajar. He could see Taron through the gap and the king glanced at him before nodding to acknowledge his presence. There was a shadow of rage flickering in the king's eyes as he told Yvran to wait outside.

For a moment there was silence. Yvran peered through the door and saw Sheera shift in the corner. When she came into the moonlight, he could see a flash of hope in her face, but it swiftly disappeared when she saw who it was. Yvran felt his heart wrench. The king must have seen it too.

"Is it Yvran's?" Taron asked without preliminaries.

"Don't you dare make such accusations!" she hissed at him. Yvran wanted to rush in -- to save her -- but remained still.

Taron sighed impatiently and started to circle around the small prison with his fingers massaging the temple. He was angry and Yvran knew his friend could not structure his thoughts in such cloud.

The king stopped and knelt down before her. "Why do they think the child might not be mine? Do you know what you have done?" Taron asked in exasperation. "If you are sentenced with adultery, we will kill you and your death will not be merciful."

They all knew. As per the ancient law, the punishment for adultery was lapidation; and as the queen of Wyria, Sheera would be stripped bare and displayed in public before slowly being tortured to death. Beruth had won all the battles against the nations and finalised the treaty with the last two. The heir who would rule the new era of success had been born, safely tucked away in the king's chamber. Sheera had given all that Wyria needed from her; her life was no longer sacred.

Yvran heard her unravel slowly into painful sobs. This was anguish. He shifted outside the cell, playing with the hilt of his sword in helpless agitation.

He saw the king pull Sheera into his embrace, gently stroking her hair. "By the Gods, Sheera, let us hope this will pass," he whispered into her hair. "How do you expect me to survive seeing you like this?" Yvran felt a pang of pain in his heart. Taron was just as tormented as he was, and this knowledge did not make it any easier to bear.

The king and his queen sat huddled for a long time: her sobbing, and him cursing. There must be a way to save her, but the only way was the truth that would be revealed by the Oracle.

* * *

The council of twelve gathered in the big chamber hall. It had been agreed that the queen's trial would be held confidentially. The king chose the witnesses carefully.

Yvran was not one of them.

Queen Sheera was summoned into the hall. She walked with her head held high, despite her ragged look after spending five nights in prison. The council addressed her formally and then requested her oath to the honest truth before the Oracle and the Gods. She complied.

"Queen Sheera, do you know why you are here?" the chief justice of the council spoke. He was an elderly man with a stern face; one who had served the Oracle for many years and upheld the ancient laws of justice.

Sheera nodded in response. So the chief justice continued, "What is your plea?"

"I plead not guilty," the queen answered bravely.

There were murmurs in the hall and Taron shifted in his chair, suddenly apprehensive. He feared for her and knew somehow that this would not end well.

"We have reasons to believe that you have betrayed your king, in marriage and in faith. What have you to say about that?"

She held her gaze at the chief justice. "I have always been faithful to my husband. I serve by him and his people. Whatever reasons you have against my fidelity, I deny them," she answered, her voice solemn, as if she had practiced her speech many times before.

"A few people have witnessed a young man come in your chamber when the king was not present. Do you deny that?"

Silence, and then she sighed. "No," she answered, and the king sighed in response. "But he has come because...."

"So you don't deny that you entertained a visitor in your bed chamber, alone, without the presence of the king?"

"I needed to..."

"Did you know that betraying your king constituted an act of desecration?"

"I did not betray him!"

"Then how do you explain this?"

Darkness veiled the hall, and the Oracle shone in the middle of the altar, glowing bright crimson. The air felt gradually heavier and the queen was lifted into the air. Taron sat up in his chair and watched as a ghost in a shape of a hand floated trough her and forced her to reveal... everything.

She screamed: her anguished dreams, her plan to escape, her request for freedom, her hatred towards injustice at being taken away from her family, and her love... her love for the man who was not the king.

Finally the Oracle released her and she fell to the ground, sobbing and scandalised. It was a mournful sight, and for a moment the hall was gripped with silence.

Then murmurs started to vibrate across the room, acrid with disgust and condemnation. All eyes turned to the king who was staring at his wife with a look of pain that quickly changed to hatred and then anger. It was clear to him that she was damaged; but somewhere deep inside him laid the evil of satisfaction at this knowledge, now that he had learnt each strand of the truth that marked her betrayal.

Taron rose to his feet and the hall went abruptly silent. He strode to her, knelt by her side and grabbed her by the hair. "You will die by the only punishment that is just for your betrayal!" he said, hatred thick in his voice. "Such is the law we abide by."

She glanced up at him, her body bent awkwardly with her hair in his grasp. "It is no crime to love another," she defended herself. "I served you well, I have no regrets."

"You do not speak to me of regrets, woman!" Taron roared and he shook her fiercely. "You are condemned! Who is this man? Who is this man whom you love more than your husband?" He wanted her to say his name, just once, so he could claim the satisfaction of condemning them both.

She lifted her chin and smiled ruefully. "You cannot choose whom you love. You just do," she answered. "And you're a fool if I should tell you."

At this humiliation, the king whirled and condemned her: she would be stoned to death when the sun was at its highest; and he would be the first to cast the stone upon her.

L O V E

When Yvran heard about the sentence, he rushed to meet the king but Taron did not wish to be disturbed. Yvran faced the council, the guards, the royal advisors, to be allowed his king's audience. He must talk to him, but the king would have no visitors.

Yvran remembered the back entrance. He knew about it because he had been one to help build it for him, in case the king should need to escape. It led to the king's bedchambers.

He found Taron, sitting by the bed with his head buried in his palms. The king's shoulders shook slightly, concurrent with the faint muffled sounds of his sobs. The sight was... devastating. Yvran had never seen the king so distraught and he had known him since childhood.

"My liege," he called him softly, falling to his knees with his head merged between his shoulders.

Taron seemed surprised and quickly wiped his tears before turning to face his friend. "How did you..." Then he smiled ruefully. "The escape door; how clever."

The king rose to his feet, poured himself some wine and drank it all in one gulp as if it was water. "Yvran," he said, "have you come to confess?"

Yvran swallowed. "No, my liege," he said. "I've come to request her pardon."

The king laughed as if finding this amusing. "And... why do you think I will grant you that?"

Yvran looked up to the king. "Because my oath to you was genuine," he said firmly. "And so she is innocent."

Taron glanced at him, his eyes glossy with anguish. Then he dropped onto his chair and sobbed like a boy. Yvran watched him, pain clawing at him like sharp nails. It did not take much to feel for the king; but he could not find words to soothe him, so he remained silent.

Taron grabbed his sword and walked towards Yvran. He unsheathed the blade and then pointed it at his throat. Yvran leaned back slightly, surprised; but then he stopped, looked up at the king and held his gaze.

"Do you love her?" the king asked.

Yvran's eyes did not waver. What could he say that would not end in sorrow?

"Do you love her?" the king repeated, louder this time.

"Yes," the warrior answered, his voice marked with fortitude. "I do with all my heart, and long before you did."

The response was silence, followed by the sound of the wind and the rustles of the trees outside. They stared at each other for what seemed like eternity before the king finally lowered his sword.

He fell to his knees, grabbed Yvran by the shoulders and shook him lightly. "You should've told me from the beginning," he said softly. Despite the nobility in his tone, it was clear that the king felt betrayed.

Yvran did not know how to respond. He did not have anything to say that would reverse everything that had passed. He could not have told him, not when the entire nation stood watch for the raven Symron to help win the wars. And he could not have told him because he loved him, his liege; and he was willing to sacrifice everything for the sake of his kingdom.

"The child..." the king said, his eyes fixed onto Yvran's.

"... is yours," Yvran answered without hesitation.

The king lowered his eyes, distraught. "Then I shall keep him," he said.

"My liege..."

"I am yours no more," Taron said and then rose to his feet and walked towards the balcony. But he stopped half way and reached into his pocket to reveal the stone that had marked their friendship, the one Yvran had left on Sheera’s bedchamber. Taron placed it carefully on the table and with that, relinquished everything that had been theirs.

"You are my most trusted warrior, my guardian... my friend," Taron said without turning to face him, his voice stricken with grief. "To lose you is like losing my life..." Yvran could see him roll his fingers into a fist as if to hit something, but instead it fell limply by his side.

"Leave this kingdom," Taron said after a long pause. He filled the goblet with more wine and drank it all. "Let us hope we will never see each other again."

Yvran tensed, then rose to his feet. There was no way he would leave this kingdom without saving her. So be it. He must act on his own.

"Keep the stone and know that I am forever yours," Yvran said. "But I shall do what I must."

The warrior turned and walked out of the chamber.

* * *

The gate burst open. Two guards dragged Sheera out of the prison, her feet trailing along the ground.

One day their queen, worthless the next.

Yvran heard the chanting. The nation had gathered once more, but this time to celebrate her death. The guards laughed as they offered her to the world like a slave, in tattered shreds of clothing and dismay. She had been whipped, and now she must suffer the stones. Yvran lifted himself onto his horse. He must hurry if he meant to save her.

He saw her flinch as the sun hit her eyes like a cutlass; but it was the noise of the nation jeering that seemed to pain her. How dare they judge her, so eager to punish one who had sacrificed her life for the sake of their future? He felt burning anger building inside him. If this was the nation he had fought for, he no longer wished to be a part of it.

He rode forward. He could see her eyes scanning the crowd and her gaze stopped at the king. Taron had a stone in his hand but there was no longer hatred in his face, only sorrow. Yvran watched her look away and then with her head held high, she walked boldly towards the path of lapidation.

Yvran placed his arrow in his bow and shot. It flew into the air and landed in the middle of the path. The crowd stumbled away in a shocked flury, but the king stood still with his eyes fixed on Sheera.

The guards returned a volley at Yvran and one arrow managed to pierce through his arm, but he did not stop until he reached her side. Yvran slid off his steed and stood before her, protecting her from the judging crowd that began to murmur words of disbelief and disgust.

"No one shall cast a stone upon her!" Yvran bellowed. He struggled to remain calm, but the tension in his heart betrayed him as he heard his own voice quiver in anger. He raised his arms by his side, palms up in surrender. "Should there be lapidation today, let it be me."

"Yvran, no!" Sheera pleaded, grabbing him by the shoulders from behind; but he brushed her hands lightly, before turning to her.

"It will be alright," he murmured and turned to look at the king, challenging him to give them what they deserved. Taron's face was expressionless as he stared back at them without a hint of decision. The warrior shifted nervously but he held his gaze.

The crowd started to protest, some even began to throw stones onto the path in anger. They had come here to punish one who had humiliated their king; and they would not relent until justice was served. Yvran looked at them with disgust and felt Sheera shiver in fear as she pressed her body against his.

The king raised his hand and the crowd slowly fell into silence. When he walked towards Yvran, there was resignation in his eyes. The king would let them go. For everything they had done to the world, Yvran knew he would. The warrior stepped aside.

He watched as the king uncloaked himself and wrapped Sheera with it and his arms. "You cannot choose whom you love, you just do," Taron whispered into her hair, his voice quivered in anguish. "And if this is the cost of my love, I have paid the price dearly. But I do it willingly."

Sheera began to cry. Her arms moved to embrace the king. Yvran felt his heart wrench. He understood the strength of their devotion, each marked with the pain of their sacrifices. He watched as the king pulled away and cupped her face with his hands. For a long time, they just gazed into each other in silence. And then Taron smiled at her, his face shone in rueful surrender.

"You will take care of him," Sheera pleaded her last wish. Yvran knew that it pained her to never see her son again. But it was inevitable; it was either the child or her life. He could not win them both.

The king nodded once and turned to face the crowd. "I release them!" his voice thundered and the crowd responded with cries of disappointment. "I banish them from this kingdom; and if they return, their heads will adorn the walls of my chamber." Yvran saw the king nod at him: a mark of his blessing, his final gift to the two people who had betrayed and loved him all their lives.

Yvran took Sheera into his arms. It was not victory that he felt, only relief stained with sorrow. He lifted her up onto his steed, and then placed himself behind her. He nodded to Taron in gratitude, and the king stared at him boldly. Taron was the stronger man. With that, Yvran felt remorse as the years of all the memories they had shared flashed back on the walls of his mind.

Yvran pulled at his rein and rode towards the gate with Sheera in his arms. The feel of her against his chest brought him back to the present. He would take care of her and give her everything he had failed to give since the prophecy. But now, they would make their own destiny, live their own future.

"Where do we go from here?" he heard her whisper.

Just before they rode through the gate, he saw the guards glaring at him in reluctant discharge, the warriors who had fought with him in many battles, his men, his life. "I have no idea," he answered truthfully. "But I know that from now on, there will be only... us."

"Can you live with that?" she asked, her hands gripped his in desperate hope.

He smiled and leaned forward to kiss the back of her neck. "I can't imagine a better life." He could feel her body sink into his arms in relief.

Together, they left the life of obligation they had known into a world of new beginnings.

© 2008 Lydia Kurnia