THE HAUNTED KINGDOM 2 by Charles E.J. Moulton (amazing books to read .txt) 📖

talked the whole rest of the night through. In fact, lying there in his quarters, warmed by three large masonry heaters, naked and covered by warm sheets, they made themselves believe they were in the castle again. Alfred was in the next room and sleeping and they would go to sleep in each other’s arms and eat breakfast together the next day before riding to the poppy fields.
Belinda only stayed two weeks because Alexander was afraid that she would be in danger if battle started again. He was right, of course. Steven was angry at Alex for sending the light of his life away from him. Apparently, Belinda was at the other front in the west now, tending to the wounded. Then she would be back at Iuventus, praying. Alexander had stayed for another two weeks before leaving for the west himself. What had bothered him even more was that they had fought again. They had left as friends, but the quarrel had been quite disturbing for both of them. All those old feelings had come back. She had asked him if he believed now what she had spoken of, if he was still a skeptic. He had to admit that he believed that there was more to Lucinda than just hot air and empty promises.
What Steven had seen on the battle field, the vicious strategy and the bloody mindedness of these animals called Nocturanians, had slowly convinced him that he had been wrong to be a skeptic. H had then understood that it had been a defense mechanism against evil. Now when there was no way to uphold that illusion or no reason to uphold it, he was depressed beyond grief. The battle had started the next day after his wife’s departure and three-thousand-five-hundred men had been butchered
in three weeks. Now, since four days, it had been quiet.
Steven had horrible nightmares. He was starting to drink.
Tom was there and was trying to do undercover work, but not much could be helped.
He could only think of the useless attacks upon the Fraytollah harbor.
They were getting worse all the time, his headaches.
He picked up Belinda's shawl and smelled it. He could feel her perfume engraved in its texture, feeling the soft touch of her breasts against his skin, her caramel-tasting lipstick against his mouth, and her hair against his cheek. He could remember the engravings on the tree, their honeymoon in Urbania, their marriage and their child. Their jokes and laughter and love for each other. He knew how it felt to kiss her body, how it was to enter her. How it was to make love to her with the torches unlit by the light of the moon. He felt the love in every part of his soul.
He wanted to say that he was sorry he had yelled at her when they had parted.
And he felt love for his son and his laughter and his funny habit of leaving breadcrumbs behind him. Something Geena told him to stop doing in the house.
Oh, how he missed them. Melancholy came over him.
The rain trickled down the roof of the tent. The darkness outside was overpowering. Out of every bush a ghost seemed to crawl. He longed for home. Even the most horrid fight with Belinda, and they had had a few of those, was better than this loneliness. Eventually, Steven fell asleep and dreamt horrible things about bereavement, about Lucinda, about Nomed, and about perverse rituals.
He woke up around three by the sound of galloping horses outside his tent.
Soon enough, Steven was outside riding toward another battle.
Apparently, Tom had noticed undercover soldiers trying to outsmart their army.
He was right and soon enough Steven was punching them in the bellies and trying to squeeze out details from them and find out what and who they were.
That night, the night between March 31st and April 1st, it was Steven’s turn to turn into a monster just like Belinda had turned into a dragon during the trials with Nina Ray. So it was an unshaved, drunk, angry and lonely prince regent that tortured the spies that night, hoping that this war would soon be over.


Shushienae Valley, Friday, May 31st, 1426 A.D.

The entire region of Nocturania, Prosperania and Alliland was a battle zone and Steven was never at Iuventus. He was out in the field with Tom, the army and Ulfaas.
Almost ten percent of the Prosperanian population had died in this war.
By this month the Nocturanians had come almost to the Clurafar borders. The Shushienea-Valley was one of the largest valleys in all of Prosperania and its splendor had often amazed even the hardest townsfolk. Now it would be a war zone. Being very close to Clurafar and an important point on the Prosperanian map, it was obvious that the battle would have to be victorious or the consequences would be disastrous.
Steven had already received several scars on his body and on the first day of battle, Tom lost an eye and was left bleeding in his tent.
After a week, Tom decided to walk out of the tent with his weapon to fight by own initiative. Steven didn’t know about it. A young lieutenant named Gordon Lateras had taken it upon him to take care of Tom while Steven was handling the battle’s southern most activities. When he saw Tom leaving the tent and mounting his horse, he leapt upon his and rode after him.
“Colonel Barnes!”
Tom looked at him, startled, blood dropping from behind the eye patch.
“Whatever are you doing?”
The screams and wails were distant but growing nearer. Clanging of steel was getting louder.
“Joining the war” Tom spat, riding faster. They passed a few bodies from the last battle. Bodies that had not been cleared. One had its head cut off and there was blood clotted at the neck.
“The Prince-General had asked me to tell you not to leave the tent.”
“To hell with him.”
”You are sick” Gordon screamed. “You need special care.”
“I cannot see my country be torn up and not do anything about it” Tom shouted.
He galloped away and Gordon after him. The clanging was almost close by.
There was a fog nearby now and the two galloped into the battle before they knew it.
Clanging of steel. A man with a gilded helmet and a steel nose protector clanged down his sword and hit Tom, who reacted quick and held up his weapon.
The two riders started fighting and Gordon joined in, but what disturbed by another man with nose protector helmet. The two men realized that the soldiers all looked alike.
Being disturbed by his one lost eye, he lost coordination and suddenly felt a sword cutting into his shoulder. He screamed and looked to his side. He could see his shoulder bone.
He fell off the horse and hit his head.
Then he saw them, slowly riding through the mist. The battle was raging around him, but the sound was far away. Everything seemed to be moving slower.
Two women, one blond and one dark-haired, and two men, one dark blond and one black-haired, were galloping toward him.

(On this day, Lucinda told me about the Four Apocalyptic Riders.)

They were approaching him with torches in their hands.

(Patricia stood up and smiled coyly. Tom grinned. She shook her head. “Still got that gap, huh?”
He laughed. “Trademark. Hey, Patsy. Nice to see you.”
”And you … Sit down.”)

Gordon looked up and saw them as well. Time stood still and would not move.
Simultaneously, two Nocturanian soldiers buried their swords in the two young men’s hearts.
Steven learned about their demise that afternoon, spent the afternoon bleeding and crying.


Thursday, June 13th, 1426 A.D.

The Nocturanian armies were gone away from the capital, but a third of the Prosperanian territorial army was gone and maybe and seventh of the population in the country was dead.
Tom had received a special grave in the memorial chapel beyond the palace church.
Belinda cried during the ceremony and did not want to speak to anyone.
She felt guilty for blaming him for the abduction of 1411 and she felt guilty for screaming at him at the landing after Steven’s drunken night in the brothel. Most of all, she felt bad about not having said good bye to Tom or at least sending him a message that he may want to take care of himself in the battle field. That night, she took a candle and walked to the chapel and wept.
When Henricus died, killed by an anonymous attacker, Ariana and Lisa galloped to the castle to search for help, but were killed right outside the Iuventus gates by an unnamed aggressor. They received a proper burial and their graves rested in the garden behind the memorial chapel.

Saturday, August 17th, 1426 A.D.

The princess that one day was entitled to become queen of the empire tossed and turned in her bed. The marital chamber felt lonely these days. Her husband was never at home and the times she saw him, she saw him rushing to a strategy conference with Zedrick or Alexander.
Alfred was a joy. One boy, however, could only take so much pressure. Rolf and Geena tried their best to live up to the expectations of being perfect babysitters and mood lifters. The fact that Alfred was in his mothers bed at this very moment made it even harder for Belinda to sleep. This little creature was counting on her and she couldn’t even count on her father.
Belinda kept seeing Steven at war, sword in hand and screaming. She kept seeing Tom pierced by a lance and the enemy conquering the land and turning gold to mud. She had seen so many wounded that eventually she had to admit to herself that taking care of the wounded civilians was not the answer, no matter how good a girl she wanted to be. She had given it up today. She heard her son’s snore next to her and decided that if she had to choose between her son and the country – she would choose her son any time of the millennium.
Her father was quiet. He kept his mouth shut and sat on his throne brooding.
He paced the hallways and cried. Steven was gone and Belinda was depressed.
That day Belinda had decided to kill herself. She failed. The rope wouldn’t hold.
So she told no one, not even her son.
She spent the night holding Alfred, wondering where the father of her child was.

Sunday, September 22nd, 1426 A.D.

It was shortly after mass and Belinda was walking restlessly around the palace.
Steven was on leave from the war. It was something resembling a truce.
Everyone knew that it was not going to last.
At least, for a week or two there could be normality to life.
Mass had been quiet and Belinda had been hectic.
Her hands were shaking and sweat was running down her brow.
The church service had been short and there had been a few hymns. What was strange was that, this time, mass had not clamed her down. It had only made her more upset. She couldn’t bring herself to tell anyone how she was feeling. She knew that Steven would understand. That was not really the point. Alexander would listen. Her father always listened.
The point was, however, that what she had feared for years now was reality.
Lucinda had arrived and cursed the palace. Nay, she had cursed the country.
“Look at this country” she whispered, talking to herself as she was wandering down