Category: beginning

 

It was only for a moment, however. Shouting broke out at one end of the square—then screams. The dancing turned into chaos and the music sputtered. Was it a bad dream? I stopped so suddenly I nearly knocked Balleck over. Firelight glinted on the all-too-familiar-helms of the Nether Queen’s soldiers as they plowed through the crowd. “Ayglos,” I choked and began casting about for my brother. Had they somehow found us?

The crowd was starting to flee the column of soldiers but I stood like a tree and mutely watched the column of glittering armor approach. I would have prayed, but after the fall of Galhara I wasn’t sure anymore Eloi would be listening. I needed to find Ayglos—where had he and Olena been when last I saw them dancing? Balleck was trying to talk to me; I realized that when he gave up and forcibly picked me up. I yelped and writhed free, sparing him an indignant look.

“We have to go,” he said firmly, grabbing my arm and towing me toward the edge of the square.

“But, Ayglos!” I protested.

“He’ll be going, too,” replied Balleck. He didn’t look back, just dragged me along with the crowd out of the square and down an alley. The column of soldiers marched straight through the square and out the other side with a purpose. They were gone. The crowd evaporated around us as all the Gillenfolk found other places to be.

Suddenly drained, I slumped against the alley wall. Balleck stood by watchfully. I was surprised and a little horrified at my panic. It wasn’t as if Narya the Nether Queen had no other enemies. She had other people to hunt besides people she thought were dead. People who only survived because she didn’t know our mother was a nymph and we could survive under water. Pulling myself together, I straightened and looked around, trying to figure out which way went back toward the circus.

Balleck touched my shoulder. “Are you ready to move on?” His tone was compassionate.

I nodded. I didn’t know how much he knew of my family, and how we’d come to join the circus. Though, it’s not like it would be a hard guess.

“This way.” He took my hand and led the way…the same direction the soldiers had gone.

I managed not to balk, and followed him with my head down. I still had my hat—somehow—it was a comfort to me even though it meant I couldn’t see worth a rat’s tail. Watching Balleck’s heels I focused on my other senses. I could hear the soldiers ahead of us, their captain shouting orders. I could smell the river behind the city smells of stone and refuse. As the smell of the river grew stronger, the shouting shifted from a sergeant’s rhythm to the din of battle. Then we turned a corner and came upon the bridge over the Tryber.

On the bridge, bathed in orange light, was a battle. A small group of men were making hard work for the Queen’s soldiers—who outnumbered them generously. The orange light was from a long building to our right which was burning like a hearth fire in winter.

I was transfixed. These were no peasant rebels, these were excellent soldiers and they fought like devils. They couldn’t be from Gillenwater, this city had been conquered years ago and her loyal garrison dismembered. I inched closer to the conflict. Three rebels climbed up on the bridge walls and nocked arrows. At some signal, the remaining rebels suddenly pulled back and fled across the bridge under the cover of their compatriots’ fire. As soon as the rebels were clear the archers leapt into the river. The Queen’s soldiers were quick to the bridge’s edge, sending a hail of barbs into the water from strange sideways little bows while others went after the larger group.

I wanted to run to the river’s edge to see what happened, but Balleck held me back. We hid in the shadow of a building while the remaining soldiers reorganized. I thought they took forever. They set to gathering their wounded and their fallen arrows and eventually moved off back through the city. I made myself wait until I was sure that they were well underway before I shook off Balleck’s hand and slunk to the river’s edge.

The Tryber’s banks were steep, and walled with stone. We crouched on the bank and looked into the dark water. At first I saw nothing. Then I heard a soft splashing. I squinted.

“There!” hissed Balleck, nearly clocking me in his haste to point.

I still didn’t see anything, but in a surge of purpose I pulled off my hat and cloak and dove into the river.

It was not a very nice river. Oh, the Tryber was kindly enough–but dirty, smelly, and rather more like a pigherder than a river. It occurred to me that perhaps I should have waited for Balleck to say what he saw before diving in.

Before I could regret my dive too much I saw him. One of the archers was struggling quietly in the water. I could hear him gasping—which he seemed to be trying to do very quietly. I swam closer and had an unstrung arrow in my face far before I expected to be heard.

“Shh! I’m here to help you!” startled, I backpedaled from the shiny point.

He didn’t take long to decide. “Then help,” he sputtered, struggling to keep his head out of the water.

I grabbed his collar. “Relax, I’ll tow you.”

There was the little matter of which shore. I had left Balleck on the city side, but we all needed to be on the far side. I opted for the far side. I could always tow Balleck across next—or he could very likely take the bridge without a single thing to fear.

I picked the far side and in moments was bumping up against the slimy walled bank of the Tryber. “Can you climb?” I asked, grasping the stone wall with one hand and holding up the archer with the other.

The archer slung one hand out of the water hooked his fingers over the top of the wall. With some effort he dragged his bow out with the other hand set it on the top of the wall. He turned his head to look at me, “Since you’re here, I’d appreciate help with the next part. Climb out.”

Since you’re here? Taken aback, I grabbed the wall and heaved myself out of the clingy river with effort. Dripping, I turned to help the archer. Happily the burning building was on the other side of the bridge from us and cast a long, dark, shadow and a nice solid roar—to hide the awkward, painful and not silent act of hauling the archer up. Once he was safe he rolled onto his stomach and allowed himself the luxury of a groan. I could have sworn I heard him mutter, “Some rescue.”

“You’re welcome.” I huffed. “That river was gross, you know, I didn’t have to get in there for you.” I thought I saw him smile. I also saw why he’d needed rescuing. A dart stuck out of his calf. My annoyance evaporated faster than I wanted it to. Turning, I peered across the river to look for Balleck. If I could avoid getting in and out of the water again, I would. I couldn’t see him and wasn’t sure if that meant he was gone or that he was well hidden.

“We need to get out of here before the soldiers come back.” Balleck’s voice came at my shoulder and I whirled—my fist snaked out in a reflex I thought I’d forgotten and cracked across Balleck’s jaw before I knew what had happened.

*

I had faced men sent to kill me and I had killed in return. Unusual for a girl of my age. But life was different now: Performing riding stunts for an easy-to-please crowd was not the same thing as facing an army.

It was much, much worse.

Before battle, I remembered deadly calm, before every single performance, my guts would wring into knots and put me in danger of falling off the horses.

I closed my eyes and tried to focus on breathing. Ten months. You’d think it would be easier by now.

The horses under my feet stamped eagerly; they were listening to the musicians who sat just to the right of the gate—and they could tell our cue was getting close. My gut shuddered again. It wasn’t even a long act. We were just buying time for the acrobats to change costumes for the finale.

There was a crescendo in the music and then the suck of expectant silence. I felt the horses sink back on their haunches for a beat, and then with the percussion of the drum solo they charged into the circus ring, bringing me with them. I opened my eyes and waved to the crowd in the shadowy reaches behind the torches lighting the arena. The crowd gasped and cheered as we circled the ring at breakneck speed—two dappled horses with a wild-haired girl dressed in leaves and leather standing one foot on each.

After three trips around the ring a second drum joined the first and two big tribesmen dashed into the arena and lifted a huge flaming ring on standards between them. My mounts passed underneath the ring and I leapt through—making much of my safe landing—the crowd clapped. We circled back around and I jumped through the fire again, praying none of my leaves would catch. They had once, three months ago at a performance near Tasielyn. Half-nymph cooked at circus: The town gossips would be delighted if they knew. I pushed the thought aside and jumped through a third time.

I sniffed. Safe. I waved to the crowd, they rewarded me with applause.

The horses thundered on and the tribesmen ran in a tight circle with their ring of fire—the dizzying spin hid that they were making the ring bigger as they ran. They stopped and lowered the burning ring to just two feet off the ground. I looked at the fire and covered my face in mock dismay. My audience got silent—I could almost hear them measuring the height with their eyes as the tribesmen began to raise the ring slowly. By the time the horses and I reached it, the flames licked at four feet—leaving just a narrow gap for us—my grays leapt while I ducked and the three of us cleared the burning loop to cheers.

Our time was up; I waved farewell to the crowd as my eager little showmen galloped out as fast as they could. We slid to a stop in the cramped space between the musicians and the next act and I jumped off.

The horses snorted and shook their manes, clearly proud of themselves. I patted their necks. “Natural show offs.”

“That makes three of you,” my older brother, Ayglos, slid halters onto the horses and smiled at me.

I scoffed and punched his arm. His hair was lighter than mine, but his eyes were darker and he was annoyingly taller. He’d already changed from his scanty, shimmering spear-dancer outfit. Can’t say that I blamed him. He was freshly nineteen, my senior by two years, and I was fairly certain every girl in the circus loved him—as had every girl in the royal court not too long ago. He, of course, had no idea.

“Nice, Zare,” the acrobats clapped me on the back as they hurried past to start the finale.

I grinned. If the lead in was worse, the afterglow of performance was worlds better than the effects of battle.

I helped Ayglos lead the horses out of the tent and away to the little corral set up a short distance from the big tent. The circus was a small town on wheels, dragging its own corrals and tents everywhere it went. Most of the cities surrounding Daisen Bay had tournament or festival grounds outside the city limits; we usually took up the entire grounds and sometimes overflowed into surrounding farms or forest. Gillenwater had one of the few festival grounds with a fence enclosing the property. The fence was wood, painted red, and had no gate, just a giant gap which the road passed through.

Remko, bare muscles glistening, was waiting for us at the corral. “Let me see to the horses.”

Ayglos shook his head. “No need for that anymore, Remko. We’re all the same now.”

Remko growled softly. He’d been the captain of our guard. Now he destroyed things with swords before handing the weapons off to be swallowed by the sword swallower. While most of us didn’t routinely go around armed anymore, Remko still carried a pair of curving daggers hidden in the small of his back. Even when he was performing. I loved this about him.

We led the horses past and Remko contented himself managing the gate.

“Machlah says to tell you that the Circus Master wants to move west tomorrow,” Remko leaned on the fence and watched us rub down the horses. “He plans to go to Magadar—I think he hopes for better crowds there.”

“We had a crowd tonight,” I said.

Ayglos grimaced. “A ragged crowd—The Circus Master must’ve lowered the prices quite a bit to get so many. Times are hard.”

I said nothing and finished grooming my gray. We turned the horses loose and Remko let us out through the gate. Rather than dwell on the probability of actually leaving Daisen Bay, I turned to Ayglos: “Olena, Balleck, and I are going to see the end of the festival in town tonight. You should come with us, Ayglos.”

Ayglos hesitated and I saw Remko’s shoulders stiffen.

I hadn’t told Remko about this plan, before now, and I already knew his objections. I preempted: “Gillenwater is not so close to either Galhara or Hirhel that we need to worry overmuch about being recognized.”

“There is a large garrison in Gillenwater,” replied Remko, “And the Nether Queen’s forges.”

“Then we shall wear disguises.” Problem solved.

Remko looked unconvinced but Ayglos was satisfied. I smirked to myself—doubtless the promise of Olena’s presence made him easier to persuade. “I need to change,” I held up my leafy skirt, “We’re meeting by the entrance.”

“I guess I’ll find us disguises,” Ayglos tipped his head.

I saw Remko frown at him as I turned and headed to our family’s little tent to lose my wild-tree-girl attire and restrain my wild dark hair. Our tent was empty—I lit a lamp and changed clothes hurriedly. Everyone else would be working still—Remko, Ayglos and I were performers, now; our work was done for the night. My parents and my other siblings, Nadine and Namal, would have at least another hour of work after the show finished. I tugged a homespun tunic over my slim trousers and wrapped a leather belt around my waist. I fussed with the sleeves and wrinkled my nose at the shapeless attire. Truthfully, I didn’t mind the circus part of our new life, but I wasn’t hugely fond of the clothes.

*