Category: fiction

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The Nutcracker Sweet

*Special Christmas Edition – The Nutcracker Sweet*

By Abigail CR

December, 2013

It would be fun, the horse said.

Stop the evil rat, the horse said. Be the soldier. Save the toymaker’s livelihood. Save the toys. Become who you were made to be.

This is the last time that I am going to follow the advice of someone who has more scratches than the couch after the new kitten was done with it. How far had we fallen? I squinted up into the winter sun, trying to guess which window belonged to our apartment. It was the one with the string of colored Christmas lights, I finally found it. Our fight at the top of the stairs really hadn’t gone well.

“Major!”

I didn’t answer.

“Major!” The horse slide to a stop next to me and prodded me with his high quality cellulose acetate hoof. “Are you alright?” demanded the indefatigable equine.

I grunted.

“Good! Come on, he’s getting away!” The horse prodded me more urgently.

“Why do I listen to you, Red?” I demanded, rolling to my feet and checking myself for nicks and gashes. My paint job wasn’t too much the worse for wear. I looked again at the colored lights high above us and shuddered.

“Because you were made to be a hero, come on!” Red pranced.

“I was made to crack nuts,” I griped, climbing aboard my eager plastic mount.

“And so you shall!” Red leapt forward and it was all I could do to hold onto his mane. We clattered across the roofing tiles and jumped up onto the windowsill.  Sliding off Red, I struggled to pull the window open. It finally gave with a crackle of old paint; I got my shoulder under it and straightened to my full 12 inches and had a full view of the apartment building staircase. I could hear the rat scampering down the stairs. Our fall had actually put us ahead of him. Adrenaline suddenly coursed through me. “Hurry, Red!”

The horse came to my side and I remounted. Red heard the rat, too, and he took a tremendous leap off the sill down onto the stairs. We stumbled and nearly ended up in a pile of wood and plastic but Red kept his feet and staggered into a regal position. I drew my curving saber and waited.

In the few seconds that followed it occurred to me that we didn’t have a plan beyond “Stop the rat! Save Christmas for the toymaker!” and I realized that I didn’t care. What had come over me? What enchantment had my psychotic horse put on me? The rat rounded the corner of the stairwell and all time to reflect was gone.

It was the rat-king, for certain. Dark shiny fur, long wicked whiskers, beady black eyes and savage claws were all nothing to the gold circlet on his head and the slim wood box in his clutches. The toymaker’s toolkit. The rat-king and I locked eyes.

“You shall not escape,” I declared. Red stamped his feet for emphasis.

“I would like to see you try to stop me,” hissed the rat-king.

Inside, I thought the same thing.

The rat-king charged and Red dug in to the worn carpet. All at once the rat was upon us and my saber slashed against his claws. I smashed his knuckles with my hilt and with a shriek he dropped the tool box. With both paws free the rat tackled me off Red and we tumbled down the next flight of stairs hissing and spitting at each other. The rat tried to bite my face but got caught in my beard; I slugged him with my free hand.

I heard Red cheering above the din of our fight. The brazen plastic horse had followed us down and was dancing about kicking at the rat whenever he could. The rat-king was getting angry. With a horrible ratty-roar he smashed my face and lunged at Red. I lunged after him and…then…the fight was over.

Red stood, his eyes huge, the rat’s claws a hair’s breadth from his tender side.

My saber stood out between the rat-king’s shoulders.

“You saved me!” puffed Red. “You saved the toymaker’s tools!”

I stood up and dusted myself off. Both legs? Both arms? Some scratches and dings…I ran my fingers through my beard. All there in spite of the rat’s teeth.

“Let’s take the tools back!” Just like that Red was clambering up the stairs.

I stood over the vanquished rat-king trying to catch my breath. I still wasn’t sure that the horse was right about me being made to fight rats, but the saber sure wasn’t for cracking nuts. I retrieved my weapon and gingerly cleaned it off before starting the weary trek back up umpteen flights of stairs. Red was waiting for me on the landing where the toolkit had fallen. He, of course, had no hands. I used my saber to cut a long thread from the worn carpet and tied the toolkit to Red’s back. Together we climbed the stairs and made our way back to the toymaker’s apartment. There was a cluster of toys waiting anxiously for us by the door.

“We’re back!” neighed Red, cheerfully. “The Major slew the Rat-King! It was a mighty fight!”

The other toys cheered. The pretty marionette girl took the toolkit from Red’s back while he told the story and the toy bull used the marionette’s strings to hoist her to the top of the tool bench where the tools belong. The stuffed animals fawned to make sure that I was alright, and the wooden elephant helped me get back on the coffee table next to the walnuts. I looked around the toymaker’s little apartment as the toys scurried around restoring the order—or relative order—that the rat king had disturbed. I’d saved the day—though only with Red’s help. Perhaps I was meant to defend the apartment, just as I was meant to crack nuts.

Merry Christmas, I thought, my world enbiggened.

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Life as a Side Kick

Looking for Zare? Click here for Episode 44!

There are a lot of perks to being a sidekick: All the adventure you could want and almost none of the responsibility–it’s the hero’s job to save the day, you just have to help. Plus, you usually survive disasters, which I’ve always found appealing.

No, life as a sidekick wasn’t so bad, but it occasionally led to awkward surprises. Like a strange, freakishly beautiful woman being present when you wake up–in all your ruffled, untucked, possibly drooling glory.

“Who is she??” I demanded hotly, jolting awake and scrambling to my feet.

“Sam, this is Shaya,” explained Declan (the hero, in case you couldn’t tell from his name), “Shaya this is Sam.” Nothing ruffled Declan, so anyone listening to our introduction might have thought we were in a cocktail lounge rather than a lifeboat. Of course, even sunburnt and scruffy, Declan would have made any cocktail lounge proud–even if he would have stood out like a sore, super sexy, thumb.

The lifeboat, I might add, was adrift in the ocean alone when I went to sleep. As it happens, it was still adrift in the ocean alone. Perhaps I had underestimated Declan’s ability to attract women…I stuffed my shirt into my pants and finger-combed my hair in a quick swipe–not that it really mattered. “What a pleasure to meet you,” I pasted on my biggest smile and held out my hand.

She looked at me with a cautious and slightly confused smile of her own.

“A handshake is a gesture of greeting,” piped Declan, seeing her hesitation. He grabbed my hand and pumped it a couple times. “See?” He handed my hand to her, and she imitated his movement with significantly less bone crushing.

“A pleasure to meet you, too, Sam,” she said. She sounded like she was from an Ivy League school. Interesting.

“Don’t take this personally,” I said–might as well ask, Declan could get us out of whatever huff I got us into, “but how the heck did you get on this boat? And did you bring food?”

“I came for help,” she answered.

Of course, because that explains it.

“The leviathan that sank our ship has lost its mind and is rampaging on the ocean floor,” said Declan.

“I’m sorry?” I offered, figuring that was close to the right answer.

“Shaya has come to ask for our help putting it out of its misery,” he finished, his blue eyes sparkling at the prospect of an adventure. “And of course saving her homeland.”

Naturally. I nodded. Just when I thought I was used to all the crazy stuff heroes assume is normal, Declan finds something totally new to throw at me. But I’m a sidekick, and I know how to roll with the punches. I got this.

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December

Looking for Zare? Click here for Episode 44!

It’s December! Zare is taking a break for the month of December, time to soak in the light and joy of Christmas celebrations.

To tide you over, I’ll be sharing some of the results of writing prompt games I’ve played with some of my writer friends. These appeared on my other blog, http://www.theravenslanding.com over a year ago.

I hope your holidays are lovely, we’ll see you in the new year.

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43-Thrilling Gossip

“Rydderhall?” I demanded. “Any relation to Quilleran Rydderick?”

Jemin followed my gaze. “I will tell you, my lady, if you will come back inside the villa.”

Fair enough. I followed him back through the doorway and as he kept going over the pile of pillars and down one of the hallways that was still reasonably intact. We stopped at a circular room lined with windows that looked out at a tiny walled garden. “You know your way around this house, too,” I accused, taking a seat on a windowsill.

“Yes, I do,” confessed Jemin, settling in the next window. “Vaudrin does, also.”

“It belongs to Quill, doesn’t it?”

“By rights, it is his. But the Nether Queen forbade it from being rebuilt—there are many in the city who support her reign, she would find out if she were defied. Add that Quill’s survival was very likely an oversight, and you can see why it remains a ruin.”

I waved my hand, “That part isn’t a mystery. Who are the Rydderick’s that they garnered such treatment?”

“Quill told you that when you arrived,” replied Jemin, “Lord Rydderick was a formidable officer in the war, and the rumors say he came close to reaching the queen herself in a battle.”

I was unsatisfied, and apparently looked it because Jemin added, “You can ask Quill yourself if you want more details about his past. It’s not my place to tell his secrets.”

He was right, of course. “Alright, then, tell me about you.”

Jemin opened his mouth to object, then closed it. “Alright, your highness,” he used my proper title to show his displeasure. It made me feel delightfully at home. “I’m the lesser son of a lesser lord with a small holding. I joined the guard the same time Quill and Vaudrin did, and we became friends.”

“That wasn’t too terribly hard,” I replied. I wanted to ask him more but decided to press my luck in other ways. “Now,” I said, “Tell me about that gossip you mentioned earlier.”

Jemin leaned back and rubbed his hand through his beard, as if this wasn’t really an improvement in topics.

“Oh, come now,” I exclaimed, “It can’t be more scandalous than anything I heard while I was princess in Galhara.”

“No,” Jemin shifted again and took a deep breath. “I was going to have to tell anyway, I expect. You, well…you have made quite an impression on a number of soldiers between here and the garrison in Gillenwater.”

I stared at him, “What do you mean?”

He continued, “Soldiers love to talk even more than court ladies. When we went down to the taverns in the city everyone was talking about a girl—perhaps a ghost or a sorceress—who was attacking soldiers and freeing prisoners. They say she spoke of judgement and vengeance at each turn. Of course, there are those who believe she is flesh and blood, but most of the stories agree that she is undead or magical somehow—because how else could a mere girl wreak such havoc among the queen’s armies?”

I laughed. “Really?” There must be a downside to this, but at the moment I was entertained.

“Really. If they didn’t believe initially, they may have convinced themselves thusly to save their own hides.”  Jemin shook his head. “There are stories I recognize from our mission in Gillenwater and the rescue by the Cymerie. But it seems that every strange happening or failed duty is turning into a ‘I saw her also!’ story.”

“Incredible.”

“Indeed.”

“Is it useful, you think?”

“Maybe. The king thinks it might be.”

“King Tarr? You have spoken with him?” I asked, leaning forward. Tarr Kegan was seventeen or eighteen now, but had been crowned five years ago when Dalyn was conquered. A mere lad, he’d been set up as a puppet—the rightful heir, so harder to argue with—but really controlled by the Queen and her ambassadors. I wondered what he was like.

“Quill spoke with the king,” corrected Jemin. “Once the doctor is finished I am to speak with your father about the next steps.”

“Are we to go into the city?”

“That is ultimately for your father to decide.”

“If we did, would we have to sneak in as peasants? Or would we pose as visiting nobles to make it easier to move about the court? With better tack Hook and Sinker would fit that part well enough.”

Jemin shifted, “I’m not certain. Some of that depends on what your father decides. But also, you could not all come openly—your parents are too recognizable, and the soldiers from Gillenwater are still in the city. We could not risk them seeing your parents or sister. Possibly not even you.”

“I suppose that means Ayglos and Namal will get their chance for daring deeds.”

“That’s possible.”

I wrinkled my nose. I tried not to be too disappointed as I thought of weeks closeted in hiding somewhere waiting for things to happen. It would be restful. Restful was good.

Jemin laughed. “You are the most unusual princess I have ever had the pleasure to fight beside.”

“What?” I tried not to grin. Pleasure to fight beside.

“You look like a puppy being left behind by its master at the mere thought of being out of the action.”

“I want to help.” My protest sounded thin, even to me.

Jemin stood to his feet, his eyes sparkling, and offered me a hand up, “Shall we go check to see if the doctor is through?”

“Jemin,” I accepted his hand and then swept down the hall as regally as I could, “Is Quill the Captain of the Guard?”

“Yes.”

“How on earth did he get away for so long?”

“It was a holiday.”

I stopped, “What an awful holiday. How does he explain his wounds?”

“Hunting trip,” Jemin grinned. “He will not be hunting with that neighbor again.”

“How is he Captain of the Guard when his family was so singled out by the Nether Queen?”

“You are full of questions.”

“Yes, but this hardly qualifies as prying into his past.” We were climbing over the rubble before the great hall now, where my brothers were wrestling and the horses loitering.

“He took a different last name when he joined the guard,” explained the big man. “He goes by Quilleran Silver.”

“Huh,” we crossed the great hall and headed for the kitchen. “I don’t think I like it so well as a Rydderick.”

“I don’t think he does, either.”

Click here for Episode 44!

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42- Rydderhall

 

Nadine and I sprang to our feet and darted away from the window opening. “Blast it, Hook,” I hissed. The riders were approaching quickly and if they hadn’t been headed to the villa already they certainly would be now. One hand on my daggers I started moving toward the kitchen, Nadine followed. I could hear the horses turning in to the little court yard before the back door. Stopping by a hole, I peered through the wall at the two men dismounting on the other side. I grinned when I recognized the burly form of Jemin. “It’s alright!” I cried, as Ayglos and Namal came running from the great hall. “It’s Jemin!”

My brothers heard me, but kept their hands on their weapons as they reached the door and stepped out to meet the arrivals.

Jemin came to meet them with a grin and a bow, “How have you fared, my lords?”

“We are well,” replied Namal, inclining his head in princely acknowledgement, and then turning his gaze to the stranger with Jemin. “Who is your companion?”

“I have brought a doctor.” Jemin gestured, “This is Rawyn Drayk, one of the finest doctors in all of Daiesen.”

Rawyn Drayk stepped forward, saddle bags slung over his shoulder, and bowed. He was old, but wiry and radiating energy. He had close trimmed white hair and beard, and his dark clothes were both well-made and unassuming. “I have been told that there is a wounded creature here who needs my help,” said the doctor.

Namal bowed slightly and moved aside, “Please, come in, and welcome.”

Namal led the doctor inside, and Jemin and Ayglos followed with the horses. Nadine was gliding to meet them even before they were in the entryway. “Doctor,” she stretched out her hand, “Thank you for coming.”

The doctor took her hand and bowed, touching it to his forehead. “My lady,” he replied.

Watching the exchange, it was easy to forget that there was no roof on this place and the walls were blackened and crumbling around us. I wondered how much the doctor had been told about us, and how much he would know once he saw our father.

“Please, follow me.” Nadine turned and the doctor followed her down the hallway toward our cellar.

The rest of us lingered in the entryway. Helping Boitumelo with Remko had been hard enough, I didn’t want to have to help with my own father. My brothers were likely entertaining similar thoughts, because Ayglos said, “Let’s see to the horses, shall we?”

The four of us led the horses to the great hall where Hook and Sinker were already grazing. As we walked, Jemin explained their cover, “We’re expected back in the city before nightfall. I have ridden with the good doctor in escort on a visit to one of the nearby villas—the caretaker is old and much loved by the family; he has been ill and the family wanted him checked on. Rawyn Drayk is one of the best physicians in Dalyn. He is a kind soul who only wants to heal, he will not betray your secrets.”

We tied the horses to the water fountain with enough line to let them graze a little. Hook and Sinker investigated the newcomers and settled into grazing nearby.

“Well,” I said, “I was going to explore the villa.”

“Don’t wander far,” Namal replied. He was already moving off to a spot clear of the horses and taking off his sword belt. “Ayglos and I will be here wrestling for a while yet.”

“Jemin?” I asked, “Would you like to join us?”

Jemin hesitated.

“If you’re worried about me getting into trouble, then you should come along, because I am going to explore.” I was quite experienced with persuading reluctant companions.

The burly man grimaced. “I will accompany you.”

“Excellent.” I turned and headed toward the front of the villa this time. The past two days we’d stayed at the back of the villa, Nadine and I had started at the back and hadn’t gotten far, so I wanted to start someplace new.

Jemin jogged to catch up with me. He was wearing an unremarkable gray cloak, but underneath was a dark blue uniform trimmed in gold. The golden river of Dalyn circled on his shoulder. I remembered back to the tavern in Gillenwater and marveled at how unlike the simple country workman he seemed now.

“So, what news from Dalyn?” I asked as we reached the end of the great hall.

“We all arrived safely back in our various ways,” replied Jemin, giving me a hand over some fallen pillars. “Dalyn is much as we left it. Though…” he paused and I looked at him with raised brows.

“Though?”

“Though the gossip is more thrilling than when we left,” he hopped off the pillars.

“I would imagine they have a lot to talk about.” I ignored the hallway crossing our path and moved into what must have been a beautiful foyer—the floor was scattered with rubble, but underneath I could see a mosaic depicting fields and trees. The walls had been faced with smooth white stone, though now only pieces remained in place. “I bet they had a skylight in here,” I commented, picking my way forward and gesturing toward the sky.

“Why?” asked Jemin.

“Because I would have,” I replied. There were alcoves off to either side of the foyer. I could see the remains of chairs tucked in them. The front door to the villa was a dark, heavy wood that was bowed and splintering as if it had tangled with a battering ram. It hung half open, its hinges partially ripped from the door posts. Hunting scenes were carved all over both sides of the door. I touched the door gently, tracing my fingertips over the horsemen and stags until they were obliterated by the bludgeoning. I felt as if I were touching the embodiment of loss.

“My lady,” Jemin’s protest came as I slipped through the front door and stepped onto the front stoop. There was even more debris out here. Once, carriages would have been able to pull right up to these stairs, but now the generous courtyard was full of weeds, smashed crockery and furniture…as if the Nether Queen had first had her men break things by hand before burning the place down. Thorough of her.

Jemin squeezed himself out the front door and I turned to greet him, but the words died in my mouth. Across the lintel was carved the word Rydderhall. This place must belong to Quill. 

 

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41-Sister Talk

Quill and Jemin left at dawn after showing us where the well was. “You will be safe here for the time being,” said Quill. “The road is that way,” he pointed, “stay away from it.” There was another hedge of happy cypress trees, and who knew how many fields, between us and the road, but we promised to stay away. “One of the men you know will come back in a day or so to bring you supplies—a doctor if I can manage it—and hopefully word about an audience for you with the king.”

They headed back the way we’d come yesterday. I was disappointed that I didn’t get the chance to corner Jemin before they left, but that was forgotten quickly enough. After checking on the horses I went back to bed and slept for several more hours. In fact, most of the family did. For the next two days we barely stirred from the hideaway, even when we were awake. Our most daring act was on the morning of the third day: we built a fire to warm bath water and toast waybread.

Then I convinced Nadine to come explore the villa with me while Ayglos and Namal were sparring in the old great hall. We hadn’t gone far down the destroyed hallway from the kitchen when Nadine pulled me into an alcove and down beside her on an old window seat. “Now,” she commanded, “We are alone. Tell me the whole story—from beginning to end.”

I told her more than I’d told anyone: Starting with the counsel in the leopards’ wagon, the taming of Hook for Quill to ride. Then about finding Quill’s men—and finding out he was their captain–going back to Gillenwater with Jemin and the Tryber showing me the way into the garrison.

“We were already gone,” she put in ruefully.

I told her about the soldiers leading me to the girls, my impulsive intervention, and the ensuing daring escape. Nadine gasped at all the right parts and urged me to keep going when I paused at the homecoming. “We walked for days and days,” I replied, waving my hand. “First to rejoin the men, then to get as far away as we could, then to rescue you. We left the girls with Gabe and Balleck at the house of a friend, they’ll be going to rejoin the circus as soon as they’ve rested.”

“I bet Ayglos and Namal were upset you didn’t leave them any heroics to do in Gillenwater,” laughed Nadine, tossing a look toward the old great hall.

I laughed, “Probably.”

“What about Balleck?” asked my sister.

“What about him?” My cheeks warmed. I didn’t want to talk about Balleck.

“What did he think?” Nadine arched a brow, well aware she’d hit on something.

“He was glad enough to have Olena safe,” I replied.

Nadine studied me, looking for the things I hadn’t said. “What did he think when he found out who you were? Since I assume that secret didn’t last long past that captain recognizing father.”

I bit my lip. “He didn’t know what to think. Especially once we were with Quill’s men and I started doing dangerous things.” I paused, then charged ahead—Nadine would drag it out of me eventually anyway.  “Before we left to stop your caravan he asked me to go with him when they went back to the circus.”

Nadine sat back, her blue eyes widening, “Go with him? Just to be safe, or forever?”

I shifted. Technically he hadn’t said, but, “Both. I think.”

“Oh, Zare, and you said no.”

“I couldn’t say yes; my place is here.” I looked out the window. There had been glass panes once, but the jagged pieces that remained were blackened from the fire. “I can’t leave you, and I can’t leave the fight.”

Nadine grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “Do you think…that ended it? Until those soldiers came I was really expecting him to ask father about courting you before the year was over.”

I thought about the conversation Balleck and I had in the barn. “Oh yes, the possibility of us is gone.” The thought made me sad, but not as sad as I would have expected. I turned to Nadine, realizing with some surprise the fullness of what she’d said, “You expected me to marry a circus performer? So soon?”

“Well,” defended Nadine, spreading her hands, “Galhara burned, we were hiding, our dethroning seemed rather permanent. The circus wasn’t a bad life, you and Ayglos in particular were quite at home there. It didn’t feel so farfetched at the time.”

“Would you go back if you could?” I asked.

“To the circus?” Nadine thought about it. “I don’t know where else we’d go.”

“We could go anywhere.”

“Not really, we’d have to find a way to eat.”

I leaned against the wall and regarded her. “You would probably be married to what’s-his-name now if we hadn’t been besieged.” Even with the fear of the Nether Queen throwing all sorts of strange kinks into the chess game of marriage alliances, Nadine had been engaged. I didn’t think they’d been in love, but he was likeable prince from Charpolia, the city across the bay from Galhara.

Nadine looked out the window. “Yes,” she said slowly, “I probably would.”

“And I would be wading through suitors, complaining to you about the process,” I added.

This brought a smirk to my sister’s face, her eyes flicked back to me for a moment. “As entertaining as that would have been, I don’t mind missing that.”

“If this rebellion succeeds, we’ll be going back to that.”

Nadine turned back to me, “Would you rather have Balleck?” she asked.

I didn’t answer. Instead I turned back to the window and starred out at the overgrown lane and the cypress trees. I had already given up the circus, and I didn’t have a deep desire to go back. But I also wasn’t sure I wanted every aspect of royalty now that I’d tasted life away from it.

Just then two heads bobbed into view on horseback and I heard Hook whinny in greeting.

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40-Safehouse

 

“This is the back entrance,” explained Quilll, sounding apologetic as we filed in. “This passage leads to the main hall, and this to the left to the kitchens and larders. We can block the door behind us and turn the horses loose in the main hall—it’s grassy now and there is an old fountain we can fill for them from the well in the courtyard behind you.” He gestured broadly and led the way left toward the kitchen.

There was plenty of rubble around, and not much roof to cast shade even with the sun going down. But the hallway was passable and the six Galhari followed Quill while Jemin took the reins of the horses and headed for the main hall.

The house had been splendid once. Little bits of the carved trim remained on the walls, hinting at the taste and wealth of the former owners. The kitchen Quill led us to was huge and still had most of its ceiling. He kept going into what was clearly a sizeable pantry–sunken a few steps into the ground and lined with shelves that still held dusty jugs and jars. At first I thought he was looking for food, but he went straight to the back and pushed on a stone in the wall. With a soft clunk the wall swung open like a door on hinges, revealing another passageway leading down.

 “Follow me, we can rest in here,” Quill trotted down the steps familiarly and we followed.

“What better place for a secret room than with easy access to the pantry,” commented Ayglos when we’d reached the bottom.

“I believe the first lord intended it for a wine cellar,” Quill replied. “Then a later lord decided this one was far too small.”

“Too small?” I marveled. The room was plenty long, most of it was dark but there were slits in the walls near the ceiling that allowed daylight and fresh air inside. It appeared that the cellar had been used to store excess furniture, but only half-heartedly as the room was by no means full. There were chairs in stacks against one walls, a thin table, a bookshelf and a pair of wardrobes. Quill was rummaging in a corner and produced some candles and a lamp. Ayglos helped him light them while we looked for places to spread our beds.

“No one comes close to this villa, by order of the Nether Queen.” Quill hung the lamp from a hook on the inside wall. “But it is still safer down here than in the main house—warmer, also, and drier.”

“Why this villa?” I asked.

“The owner was one of her staunchest opponents during the war with Dalyn. They say that he killed one of her favorite commanders and nearly reached her in one of the last battles of the war. She didn’t forget. This place is an example of what happens to her enemies.” Quill’s voice sounded husky, but he turned back toward the stairs before I could ask more questions, “There are one or two others she destroyed to make a point, but this is the only one that she forbade to be rebuilt.”  Pausing at the foot of the stairs, he turned back and bowed, not meeting my eyes, “If you excuse me, I will see what I can do about water.”

I thought about following him to find out more; why did he know his place, to whom did it belong, had he truly been overcome with emotion just then? I decided that following would be too forward. I might ask Jemin, though.

Quill wasn’t gone long, but when he returned with Jemin we had quite a bit done. Ayglos and Namal had found eight serviceable chairs and set them around the thin little table. Nadine and I had spread the bedrolls deeper in the room, then with help dragged the wardrobes out a little to block view of the bedrolls from the stair—just a little more protection.

“You’ve been busy,” said Quill with a smile. He lofted a large, chipped, pitcher with one hand and pushed the hidden door closed with the other. Jemin was already lumbering down the stairs carrying a full bucket in one hand an empty basin in the other.

Ayglos and I met Jemin at the bottom of the stairs, Ayglos insisted on taking the bucket of water and I snatched the basin out of his other hand before he could protest.

“Thank you,” said Jemin, obviously feeling awkward.

I smiled at him, “You’ve done quite a lot for us, we’re grateful too.”

Quill reached the bottom of the stairs and Jemin reached out a hand for Quill’s pitcher, as if he wasn’t sure how to walk into the room without carrying something. Quill handed the pitcher over, and then I noticed that he had a sowers bag slung over his shoulder, and it was bulging and heavy.

“What do you have?” I asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

Quill grinned. “Come see.”

He led the way to the table, where Ayglos had already set down the bucket, and hoisted his bag onto the table. It thunked heavily. He reached in and fished out a glass jar full of something dark.

“Preserves!” exclaimed Nadine.

“Are they still good?” asked Namal.

“We’ll find out,” replied Quill, unloading the rest of the jars onto the table.

Everyone took turns cleaning up with the pitcher and basin while Quill and Jemin gathered our food supplies and set about opening the jars. Jemin announced his success cheerfully, “Raspberry preserves!” He sniffed the contents and grinned. “Still as wonderful as the day they were jarred.”

Raspberry preserves improve almost everything they touch—even waybread. We crunched on our sweetened fare while the sun set and darkness enfolded the ruin and our hiding place. We swapped stories about the past two weeks and I lent Nadine and Mother Boitumelo’s satchel to treat Father’s injuries. Or try to. Then, finally, we slept. For the first time in two long, harrowing weeks, we were together and safe.

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39-Behind the Hedge

Nadine and I walked together leading the horses, father on Hook and mother on Sinker. Jemin walked next to Hook, unobtrusively ready to catch our father if he fell as we picked our way up and down hills. Our brothers walked ahead with Quill and a few of the men, the rest were behind, or scouting. We’d spent so much time sneaking through the woods in these past days that I wasn’t sure I could be loud if I tried.

Nadine leaned close to me, “Ayglos said that you were able to rescue the girls from the circus who were taken when we were, I am glad.” She kept her voice low enough that I doubted even our parents could hear us.

I nodded. “Jemin and I found them and got them out—I was looking for you, too, but you weren’t there.”

Nadine grimaced. “No, the officer who found us knew father and mother on sight, and guessed about me well enough. He took us straight to the Regent of Gillenwater.”

“Regent?” I asked. “Not the queen?”

“The queen!” scoffed my sister, “Don’t you remember? Queen Glykeria is only twelve, and I got the impression she spends most of her time at Hirhel. Prisoner or protégé, who can tell? We wouldn’t even have learned where she was had father not demanded to see her. No, Gillenwater is ruled by the Regent, a weasel of a man named Fotios.”

I glance at Nadine, her voice carried a bite I wasn’t used to hearing.

She continued, “He immediately packed us into a carriage and set us on the road to Hirhel. I believe he sent ravens ahead of us, so when we do not arrive we will be missed.”

“We figured they would have,” I agreed.

“I have never been more grateful for the steep slopes of the Magron Mountains,” said Nadine, “They prevented us from going straight to Hirhel, but sent us the long way to take the Bandui. We were plagued with wagon trouble, which meant little to us except that the guards were ill tempered and some were rough with us before their commanding officers could intervene. The officers were determined to bring us to the Nether Queen in tact, for her to have the full privilege of taking us apart, I guess.”

“But it made all the difference. We were able to catch up,” I pointed out, looking at my sister and trying to fathom just how close we’d come to missing them. The mercy of Eloi manifest in a few bad wheels.

We walked in silence for a time until Ayglos came back to walk with us. He addressed our father, who was looking pale under his copper tipped beard. “Quill has suggested a hiding spot outside the city walls: This side of the river is lined with villas and summer homes. Some of these have been abandoned since the conquest. They are much closer to us than the city walls, and we could rest there until he can get us a secret audience with the king.” Ayglos eyed the king with concern.  “With your permission, father, he would take us there rather than make you travel further in your condition.”

Zam the Great nodded. “That sounds wise,” he replied, further confirming to his worried offspring that he was in dire condition.

Ayglos bowed slightly, nodded to Nadine and I, and returned to the front of the column to bring word to Quill and Namal. After another hour’s walking, Vaudrin and the few other men at the front came trotting past us and on back down the line. Then, to my surprise, the whole column split off and headed to the left, leaving us with only Quill and Jemin. Ahead of us the forest ended at a low rock wall. Beyond the wall spread a well-groomed lawn and flower gardens.

Quill turned right and led the way alongside the kept estates—keeping well under the cover of the trees. We passed so many hedges, orderly rows of Cypress trees, and walled gardens that I had no idea where one holding ended and another began. Occasionally there was a flock of sheep or goats and once or twice I saw the peak of a house in the distance.

The sun was just starting to sink when we came to some fields where the grass was overgrown and the cypress trees had gotten woolly without a gardener’s love. Here, the rock wall, which had run largely unbroken along the edge of the forest, had been knocked down and scattered. Quill led us over the rubble and through the overgrown meadow. Another overgrown meadow awaited on the other side of the wild cypress, and yet another beyond that. These meadows weren’t just lawns gone wild, but fields left fallow that now grew a varied assortment of grains and weeds. I noticed a lane running along the edge of the meadows to the left, but Quill led us diagonally across the lumpy, overgrown land as if he knew exactly where he was going.

Quill’s shortcut finally led us out onto another lane which in turn came to a tall but crumbling rock wall. The wall was shrouded by gangly climbing roses which were clearly enjoying their freedom. I was admiring their late fall blooms when the wall ended and Quill turned right abruptly.

We followed, and before us, rising out of the weeds and bedecked with ivy like a naiad of song, was all that remained of the villa. What had clearly once been a multi-story structure was now a burned out shell. The limestone facing for the first floor had survived, but was battered beneath nature’s adornment. A few blackened wood beams stuck out against the sky like ribs on a carcass.

Quill was standing in a huge arching doorway—though the door itself was in splinters on the ground nearby. “Please,” he bowed, “come in.”

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38-Reunion

It was past noon when the land dipped down again, the Cymerie flashed into view between the trees on our left. She was wide here, and inviting. Idly, I watched the sun glinting on her waves as we rode. The ridge swept up in front of us and before we could climb it a voice hailed us from the top. “Milady, Captain!”

We looked up and saw the familiar frame of Vaudrin silhouetted against the sky.

“Well met!” cried Quill.

We urged our horses up the steep embankment. Vaudrin was waiting for us at the top with several of Quill’s men.

“We were worried that you hadn’t made it out,” said Vaudrin, “We were setting out to find you.”’

“We ran into some trouble,” replied Quill, dismounting and clasping Vaudrin’s hand in greeting. “Did you get the royal family?”

“Yes,” Vaudrin nodded. “I will take you to them.” Vaudrin turned to me and offered me a hand down. I didn’t exactly need one, but I accepted the gesture and slipped off Hook.

“They’re here?” I asked him, breathless.

Vaudrin nodded again, “Yes, milady, follow me.” Jemin took Hook’s reins and followed behind Quill and I as Vaudrin led the way through the woods. The men fell in behind the horses. Vaudrin was talking, mostly to Quill, “The men are covered in cuts and bruises, but mercifully no broken bones or deep wounds. We’re drying out well enough.” He lowered his voice, “The king may have cracked ribs, though, and appears to have been beaten some before we got to the river.”

I was desperately eager to see my family, and suddenly afraid that they would not be as I remembered them. My heart quickened as we came to more of Quill’s men and then the rest of the camp opened up before us in a small clearing. I found them immediately: Off to the side, my mother and sister were sitting next to a prone figure and my brothers were hovering nearby. I choked and ran forward, leaving Hook’s reins dangling in the breeze.

My mother was on her feet in an instant and caught me in her arms. I felt Nadine put her arms around us also and we blubbered words of greeting, breathing in each other’s scent and holding on. After a few heartbeats my mother held me at arm’s length. “Zare, my darling girl, safe and sound and so beautiful!”

I could say the same about her. Silver twisted through the dark hair that waved about her face, loose and unruly from her troubles, but breathtaking anyway.

“You’re leaner than a whippet, has there been no food?” she asked, some concern edging into her face as she looked me up and down.

“We’ve been running a lot,” I said. Reaching out I clasped Nadine by the hand and returned the inspection. They were both thinner than before, too, it showed especially in their faces. But they were happy. Tears brimmed out of my soul and escaped down my cheeks. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“Oh, Zare!” Nadine pulled me out of Mother’s grasp and squeezed me close. “You must tell me everything. Ayglos and Namal have started, but it seems you’ve had the most excitement! I want to hear all!”

I nodded, “But only after you’ve told me what happened to you! And where is Father?”

“I’m here, Little Zare.”

My mother and Nadine stepped aside and I dropped to my knees next to my father. Zam the Great was sitting up, and Namal had just finished positioning a blanket between him and the tree. “Are you alright, father?” I choked.

His beard was longer now, and underneath he was pale, but smiling. “You should see the other,” he lifted his right arm and I ducked under it for a hug. “Remko and I were a bit outnumbered,” he squeezed me close. “I’ll be alright now.”

“These wounds are from two weeks ago?” I sat up. “How badly are you hurt?”

He grimaced. “A few well-placed kicks will do plenty to keep them from healing. The tumble in the carriage didn’t help, either.”

“Those bastards,” I spat.

“Zare!” my mother chided, but it was reflexive. She wasn’t the least bit scandalized—not after a siege and a year of living in the circus.

“How is Remko?” asked Nadine, breaking in.

At her question, my brothers and I looked at one another and wilted. It fell to Namal to explain, “He was alive when we left him with Boitumelo…” his voice trailed off into the silence of vain hope.

Nadine bowed her head and our mother put her arm around her shoulders. I touched the hilt of Shiharr. Shiharr and Azzad, Remko’s spectacular gifts. I was so accustomed to the weight of the daggers now I had almost forgotten about them snugged to the small of my back. I traced the pommel with affection. Even if Remko had not survived his wounds, I had no doubt that he had gone to God.

“Your majesties,” Quill bowed, “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

“Quilleran Rydderick,” said my father.

Quill paled a little. “Your majesty,” he bowed again.

My father regarded him sternly and I shifted back a little. He wasn’t really going to yell at Quill for this whole mess, was he? It wasn’t his fault we’d hidden in a circus that just happened to be at Gillenwater the night they struck.

“According to my sons, we owe our lives to you and your men,” continued my father gravely.

Quill blinked, evidently as unprepared for that statement as I had been. “As I owe my life to your family,” he managed finally. “I would likely have drowned or been captured if your daughter had not intervened, and later prevented me from dying of my wounds.” He gestured to me, and then to Ayglos and Namal.

“Nevertheless, I am eternally grateful,” my father inclined his head. Every inch a king in his rags and scraggy beard. I was proud. “Now, what were you interrupting about?”

Quill swallowed, “Your Highness, we need to keep moving. If possible. There is still the chance that we were pursued from the road. We will have to sneak you into the city—we’d like to do so tonight if possible. My men and I have already been gone too long.”

“How have you explained your absence?” asked the king.

“For most, we were a large hunting party—our three best hunters did indeed stay behind to hunt so we will have something to show on our return. Others were on leave or feigning illness,” explained Quill. “We will slip you into the city tonight if we can, and ourselves make a public return tomorrow with our game.”

My father nodded. “Very well.” He looked up at Ayglos and Namal, “Come, help me up.”

I scooted out of the way as my brothers stepped forward and helped my father get gingerly to his feet. Nadine picked up the blankets and folded them.

“Do you think you can ride?” Ayglos asked.

My father grimaced. “Movement of any sort sounds difficult,” he replied. “But we would certainly move faster if I rode.”

Jemin was already leading Hook forward. The burly man knelt and offered his knee to help the king mount. Hook wasn’t a huge horse, but pain still emanated from my father as he stepped up and pulled himself on board. It was several long moments before he straightened even a little in the saddle. Quill’s men busied themselves getting ready to go, and we royal children tried not to stare with worry at our father.

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37-Ride in the Dark

 

Jemin had done just fine without us. When we found him, he was in the midst of tying the soldiers together. One of the lamps was still lit, sitting on the ground and casting a small pool of golden light. Jemin stopped and drew his sword when he heard the horses, but then relaxed when he saw Quill and me.

“You’re alright,” he said, openly relieved.

I nodded. “Thanks to Quill.”

Jemin sheathed his sword and knelt to finish tying the soldiers. The Nether Queen’s men were both banged up, but neither looked fatally wounded. They watched us sullenly while Jemin worked. One of them sneered, “You’re the rebels from the forges, aren’t you? Same dark armor.”

From behind them, Jemin’s eyes flicked up to Quill’s. What would happen if Dalyn was implicated too soon? I saw Jemin start reaching for his sword again.

“Galhara’s revenge is only beginning,” I addressed the soldiers, my voice low with authority. I sensed Quill’s and Jemin’s eyes on me, but I ignored them and looked down on the bound soldiers. “The Nether Queen will long rue the day she took my city.” I held their gaze coldly, letting them absorb that they were my prisoners now. As fear began to creep into their faces Jemin clubbed them with the pommel of his sword and they both slumped to the ground unconscious.

“We should go,” said Quill.

“Would you have killed them?” I asked, as Jemin mounted Sinker.

Both men looked grim.

“Will your father approve of Galhara’s role as instigator?” asked Quill after a pause.

“You needed one,” I retorted as he turned his mount and led the way into the dark forest.

We moved at a conservative pace, even once we grew accustomed to the dark. Aiming south and east we rejoined the Cymerie far enough downstream from the bridge that we couldn’t see torches or hear voices carried on the river’s roar. We stuck as close to the river as we could, but the banks were steep, and the land was rough. Frequently we had to retreat into the forest to get around steep or rocky hillocks. It was slow going, especially in the dark. Also, the further we traveled, the more I hurt. My face and arms ached worst, and exhaustion began to drag at my consciousness. I struggled to pay attention to the forest, and keep watch for sign of either the carriage or pursuing soldiers. There was, after all, a chance that soldiers from the road had had the presence of mind to chase the carriage from the river bank. But we didn’t know if they had because Quill and Jemin hadn’t stuck around to watch. They had rushed to save me; I could hardly hold that against them.

I didn’t argue when Quill called a halt. He and Jemin dismounted, and started spreading bedrolls by a huge fallen tree. I sat mutely on Hook trying to work up the strength to slide off. Quill came over and offered me a hand down. I took the bedroll he handed me and while he untacked Hook I spread the thick cloth between Quill’s and Jemin’s, the customary place for a noble with bodyguards.  Also, the warmest. Perhaps it was presumptuous, but I was too tired to care. I drifted to sleep almost as soon as I lay down.

When I awoke the forest was gray with dawn. Jemin was already strapping his bedroll to Sinker, and Quill was walking toward me as if to wake me.

He smiled when he saw me moving. “Glad to see you’re awake; we need to go.”

I got up stiffly and rolled up the bedroll. I was cold. Water and a little dried meat saw us on the move again. The sun rose higher turning gray dawn to gold morning. Eventually I started to feel awake and wonder why we hadn’t met the others yet. We had been riding a couple of hours when we came to a flat space on the river shore and saw the large silhouette of an overturned carriage. My heart leapt. I urged Hook into a canter.

“Wait!” Quill called, and I ignored him.

In a few short strides we reached the carriage and circled it. It was roughed up—the wheels smashed off, the axles and shaft were long gone. Gouges stood out pale against the dark sides. It was empty. My heart thundered in my chest. Jumping off Hook I turned to the river, “What have you done with them?” I demanded.

Quill and Jemin cantered up and dismounted. I was vaguely aware of Jemin stooping to inspect the ground while Quill followed me as I headed for the water. I reached the river and waded in just as Quill arrived and grabbed my elbow. “Zare, don’t do anything stupid.”

“Where is my family?” Angrily I spun to face him—uncertain if I was asking him or the Cymerie. The current was strong, and I could feel it tugging at my feet, even though I wasn’t even up to my knees.

Quill didn’t let go, “The carriage is empty but fairly intact, they probably got out here and moved on to a safer place.” His eyes flicked from mine to the water swirling around us. “Do not accuse the river of anything yet.”

At least not while I’m standing in it, is what he didn’t say. Being as it was an ill-tempered river. Reluctantly I yielded to Quill’s tugging and waded back to the shore. The water held onto us, like the river was loath to let us leave. I looked distrustfully at her, but Quill put his arm around my shoulders and steered me back to the carriage.

Jemin stood waiting for us.

“Anything?” asked Quill.

“There are tracks,” Jemin nodded downriver. “Lots of tracks all over this area, but a trail leaves following the river.”

I inspected the carriage again. While the outside was clearly pummeled, Quill was right; the inner body was pretty well preserved. I turned back to Quill and Jemin, “More riding?” I asked.

They nodded.

“Lovely.”

We remounted and Jemin took the lead. We plodded over the rough land while Jemin paused now and then to stare at the ground or bushes. I felt myself swinging between weariness, impatience, and indifference, and endeavored to contain my unruly emotions. We would find my family. Everyone was fine, and they were with Dalyn’s soldiers. We would find them.

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