Category: strong heroine

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31-History

When I awoke the room was awash with soft sunlight. I wondered on which end of the day I was waking. I rolled to my feet and looked down at myself. If I had been civilized, I would have shed my dirty clothes before sleeping. I shed them now, and finding a basin and pitcher of water on the little table by the bed, washed up in the chilly water. There was a pair of dark billowy trousers and a pale blue shirt waiting at the end of the bed. The cloth was a good thick cotton and some simple embroidery adorned the waistband of the pants. Nothing too fancy but well-made and worlds above the rags I had been wearing, I pulled them on gratefully. The trousers were slim through the hips and upper leg, then plumed out before coming back to wide cuffs at the ankles. The cut was more typical of summer, but this fabric was definitely suited for winter and I liked the way it fell. My daggers belted on much better over this ensemble and I felt pretty—it was nice. I pulled my sad shoes on and ventured out into the hallway and headed back the way we’d come the night before.

Ironsides’s home was uncomplicated, and I had no difficulty finding the central room with the fireplace. The fire was going and I saw Quill and Ironsides standing by the mantle looking quite serious. I approached and discovered they were arguing.

“It is too soon. The sting of her victory is too fresh,” said Ironsides.

“Shouldn’t that make the people all the more willing to rebel? They still remember what it was like before the Nether Queen!” replied Quill. “Wouldn’t it be better to stop her before she gets even stronger?”

“She is already too strong,” Ironsides countered, frustration in his voice, “Or have you forgotten what happened to Dalyn’s armies?

Quill paused, “I have not forgotten.” Each word stood by itself like candles in the night.

Ironsides softened then. “Then keep doing what you’re doing—be a thorn in her side—be a wound that festers. Be hope.”

Just then Quill noticed me. He turned, “Lady Zare,” and their serious air dropped to the ground like a magician’s cape.

“Good morning,” I said, stepping closer and resting my hands on the back of a big chair. “It is morning, isn’t it?”

“It is, indeed,” Ironsides smiled kindly, “I am surprised to see you up, you are the first.”

“Thank you for the clothes,” I dipped in a little curtsy, lifting the flowy sides of my trousers.

“You’re welcome, they become you,” Ironsides bowed in return and then turned toward the kitchen door, “I will let them know we’ve got one more for breakfast.”

I looked at Quill. He was watching me closely–but with a neutral expression which would make diplomats envious.  “Ironsides doesn’t approve of Dalyn’s rebellion?” I asked, quietly.

Quill’s eyes sparked then, and he shifted, “You heard.”

I nodded. “What do you think?”

Quill met my gaze. His eyes were a deep brown and I was startled how unguarded they were. I felt like our souls were staring at each other. At first it was unsettling, but then I realized that I liked what I saw.

“Do you know how the wars started?” he asked, breaking the spell.

Of course I did, I was royalty. I recited, “Laird Wynn of Shyr Valla declared war on Narya Magnific of Hirhel because of repeated assassination attempts on the life of the crown princess, A’rora Wynn.”

“Do you also know how Shyr Valla fell? Or Dalyn?”

My heart jumped. Would he tell me? “Not really,” I said slowly, “Everything about battle is rumor: Convoluted tales told by spies and peddlers who insist that Shyr Valla is gone without a trace.”

Quill looked into the fire, “Dalyn, as you know, was Shyr Valla’s strongest ally. Due in large part to the engagement between our crown prince, Trinh Kegan, and A’rora Wynn. The day Shyr Valla fell Trinh Kegan was defending her with a large contingent of Dalyn’s army. My father was an officer among them.

“There was a mighty wind on the mountains that day, and then Narya Magnific and her army marched out of the hills and fell upon Dalyn. Dalyn, of course, was not so well defended as she ought to have been—with the bulk of her armies in the mountains. But the city also assumed that she was being attacked instead of Shyr Valla, and that Trinh Kegan would discover this and come to her aid. But days turned to weeks and no rescue came. Our fears grew wild and weakened the cities’ already tottering defenses so Dalyn fell to Narya’s horde. The king was executed, with many of his guard, and his younger son, Tar Kegan, who was only fourteen, was set up as a puppet king in his stead.” Quill paused.

I said nothing. This might have been my story if Galhara had fallen without burning to the ground.

“Later, when things were more settled under Narya’s thumb, our new king secretly sent scouts to Shyr Valla to find out what had happened. Except there was no Shyr Valla to find.” A bitter edge crept into his voice, “The city is gone. Gone as if she had never been. And whatever horror befell her also befell her armies. There were no bones, no bodies, no scorched funeral pyres, no burial mounds. No hint of a great battle of any sort. Just an eerie feeling and grass.”

I stared at him. I had been around overblown rumors so long I wasn’t surprised by the story, and was accustomed to wondering if the rumors were real. I had no doubt that Quill was one of the scouts who’d gone to Shyr Valla, and that he was telling the truth. This forced me from the comfort of uncertainty into a terrifying reality. What devilry simply wiped a city and army out of existence?

Quill tore his gaze from the fire and looked at me again.

I swallowed. “So she is a sorceress.”

He nodded. “But, she has not used magic like that since Shyr Valla. Its rumor goes before her and makes all her other conquests easier. Some cities have surrendered upon receiving her declaration of war. Magic is costly to her, I think, and she uses it shrewdly.”

“Oh, that makes it much easier to cope with,” I said.

“It does,” Quill laughed and I smiled in spite of myself. “My lady, we have hope now. My king desires to throw off her yoke and avenge his kin, and I serve my king. The Nether Queen hasn’t conquered all yet.”

Before I could ask Quill what hope he was referring to, Ironsides came striding back into the room carrying a pitcher and three mugs. I guessed that story-time with Quill was over.

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30-Ironsides

 

My brothers and I followed Ironsides into the dim of the house, Vaudrin and Quill entered behind us. Sunshine from a window above our heads provided ample light for the entryway and central hallway of the manor. I looked around. The lower half of the walls was bare stone, the upper was coated in plaster. The entryway was wide, and there were two doors leading into rooms on either side. Iron Sides ignored these and led us down the hallway until it reached the great room. This room was lit by four windows at the moment, but there were also lamps hanging from the ceiling and a generous gray stone fireplace. An assortment of chairs draped in blankets and furs were grouped around the fireplace. In the middle of the room was the dinner table. It was at least twelve feet long and made of thick slabs of knobby olive wood which had been sanded until it was as smooth as glass. Two benches ran down either side and two large chairs sat on one end. Six hunting hounds were sprawled under the table, they leapt up and ran to greet us when we entered.

“Please, sit.” Ironsides gestured to the table. “I will call for food.” He left us to the wriggling of the hounds and went out a door at the back of the room.

Quill bowed slightly, “Take your rightful places, my lords, my lady.”

Namal and Ayglos bowed in return and walked to the table. There was more than one acceptable way to arrange seating, and normally such things would be determined in part by the nature of the visit and relationship with the host. Namal chose to sit on the right bench, and indicated that Ayglos sit on his right. I sat to Ayglos’s right, and Quill and Vaudrin sat across from Ayglos and I, respectively, leaving the seat across from Namal empty. Perhaps for Ironside’s lady, or if he had a chief warrior or advisor he would want in attendance.

Ayglos leaned in, “Does Iron Sides have a proper name?”

Quill and Vaudrin hesitated.

“Ironsides is his name,” said Vaudrin.

“I think the family name is Bairdwynder,” offered Quill with a shrug.

Iron Sides re-entered the room and to our surprise took the seat across from Namal rather than the seat at the head of the table. “Food is on its way,” he announced cheerfully. “Your people have been arrayed in the day laborer’s hall and will also taste my cook’s wizardly food. She is a miracle worker in this times when spices are hard to come by. Now, I have only one question for you: Are these women with you by their own will?” He leveled a stern glare around the table, but especially at Quill and Vaudrin.

“Yes. We rescued them from the garrison at”—Quill began.

“Stop,” Ironsides held up his hand, “That will suffice. I haven’t decided yet if I want to know what Dalyn’s royal guards are doing this far afield.” He pointed at me and my brothers, “Or who they are.”

“Fair enough,” Quill leaned back. “May we spend the night here? We have traveled hard these past several days. Even your barn would be a welcome refuge.”

“That, I can provide,” replied Ironsides, shedding his stern looks and allowing a smile. “Some of you can even have beds—though I can’t sleep forty in the house! And I am still well situated so I can bolster your provisions a bit for wherever you’re headed.”

“We would be grateful,” put in Namal. “Our path has taken unexpected turns, and we did not prepare for so many mouths to feed.”

“Sounds like a marriage,” laughed Ironsides.

Before anyone could react to Ironsides’s joke, the door to the kitchen opened and a pair of maidservants came in carrying platters of food –two each—and two boys around the age of ten scuttled in behind them carrying plates and silverware. Immediately the delightful smell of roast lamb and garlic filled the room. My mouth started to water and I breathed deeply, it had been a lifetime since I’d had roast lamb. The maidservants skillfully placed the platters in the center of the table and the boys breathlessly plunked the plates and silverware in front of each of us.

As the boys turned to scurry away Ironsides reached out and caught the boys by their britches and tugged them back to him. The boys dissolved into giggles as Ironsides’ arms closed around them. “Friends, these are my sons: Alam and Wyck.” The lads squirmed, laughed, then straightened and stared at us with bright eyed curiosity. “They were supposed to stay in the kitchen, little rascals.” He growled gently at them, and they giggled.

“We were helping!” announced the taller one.

“We’re sorry, sir, we told them to stay behind,” one of the maidservants paused close to Ironsides and scowled at the boys.

“I thought as much,” Ironsides turned the boys around to face him, “There now, you’ve seen the strangers, head back to the kitchen and eat your supper.”

The boys had evidently been hoping for a different verdict and their shoulders drooped. “Yes, sir,” they replied. Their unison that much more impressive considering their gloomy tone.

The boys both kissed their father on the cheek before heading back to the kitchen, this time the maids shooed them along before them. I caught snatches of soft scolding as they exited and the door closed behind them. I looked after them wistfully. Ayglos and I had once haunted the kitchens of Galhara. Cooks are very good friends to have–although they will make you earn your handouts. Or at least ours did. There were times when all four of us would loiter in the kitchens and she would task us with preparing herbs–we would race to see who could strip the most rosemary or lavender.

Ironsides’ voice brought me back to the present. “My apologies,” he said, a smile lingering on his face. “I had thought it would be better to keep my lads out from underfoot—considering the times and not knowing what errand you’ve been about. They are good boys, but like all children have a nose for secrets.”

“Sadly a wise choice, I’m afraid,” replied Namal.

“Say no more,” grunted Ironsides, “Let us eat and be grateful for peace tonight.”

I was certainly grateful—the roasted lamb was as perfect as it smelled; moist and laced with garlic. There was also a spinach pastry drowned in butter, and flat bread with tomatoes, hummus and a bowl of pesto. I ate as if I’d never had food before—and I ate too much. No one talked much during dinner. Ironsides occasionally commented about farming or the weather, but most of us were happy enough to commune with the food. After we finished, the maids came back in and Ironsides asked them to show us to rooms, since we were clearly tired.

My limbs were heavy and I felt like a round decanter brimming dangerously full as I followed one of the maids down a hallway and into a modest little room with a bed. She showed me also where the wash house was, and where the lamps were. I thanked her through my food-stupor, and as soon as she left I kicked off my shoes, collapsed on the bed, and burrowed under the blankets. I was awake just long enough to coo over the touch of a real mattress and then I slept without dreams.

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29-A very long walk

When I woke up it was dark and I felt a bit better, though my limbs were sore in places from all the swimming. I found Quill and made him change places with me—it was his turn to look weary and not argue. Over the next few days we stopped only for short rests, eating handfuls of road food and passing around water skins while we walked. We had to outdistance any hunt from Gillenwater, and we still hoped to rescue my family. Quill assured us we would find refuge and help in Dalyn, so we set as blistering a pace as we could manage. I wondered, too, if perhaps our family had been sent to Dalyn to take the river to Hirhel instead of going overland.

Though Dalyn had been conquered five years ago, her puppet king was of the rightful line and clearly the city’s spirit was not broken. What with her royal guard marauding around area cities to harass the Nether Queen and all. As with the Nether Queen’s other conquests, the toppling of Dalyn was shrouded in rumor and wild stories. I quickly learned that one contributing factor to the rumors was that none of Quill’s men—who had all lived through the conquest as children—were willing to talk about it. The first day or two, if one of the men wandered close I would ask him what happened and generally their reply was, “Dalyn fell,” spoken with finality as if there were no other variables.

Not that there was much talking of any sort on this march.

Night and day traded places again and again, and still we walked or jogged south and west. Five to ten of Quill’s men were always scouting ahead or to the sides—steering us around hamlets, homes, and other travelers. Quill mostly rode Hook, but still walked for ever lengthening periods to stretch his legs. Having no other duties, I usually walked between the horses.

Our scouts did see hunting parties from Gillenwater’s garrison a few times, and worked hard to lay down misleading trails to confuse the trackers. It appeared to work, because none found us.

The women, even the girls from Gillenwater who were not accustomed to life on the road, were all in good spirits. A few were suffering from colds, but on the whole they were doing very well and keeping up with the soldiers. Sinker was indispensable—providing a mobile resting place for them. Gabe and Balleck, too, were quite busy helping any way they could. I wanted to talk with my circus people—particularly Olena, but there wasn’t really time. What talk was had was between her and Ayglos, for he stayed close to her.

On the fifth day we came to the orderly lanes of an orange orchard. One of the scouts came trotting back to find Quill.  The scout fell in step beside Hook and I sidled close to hear what he said. “Iron Sides says it is safe to come ahead.”

“Excellent. We shall have a warm supper tonight.”

The scout grinned and moved off again.

Quill looked down at me, “Iron Sides was once in the royal guard, now he lives here.” Quill gestured to the orange grove. “This estate belonged to his father, but when Dalyn fell it passed to him.”

“Was his father in the army?” I asked quietly.

Quill looked grim. “Not exactly. He was a priest and a seer, and the Nether Queen had him executed.”

“What?” I had not known that she executed priests—and no one executed seers. “Did she kill all the priests in Dalyn?”

“No,” Quill shook his head. “Just the one who was a seer.”

“Perhaps he foresaw her doom,” I said, bitterness creeping into my voice.

“Undoubtedly,” came Quill’s dark reply.

We fell silent and continued along the lanes of the orchard. Soon we started to catch glimpses of laborers and whiffs of cooking fires. Namal joined us and Quill explained about our plans to spend the night with Iron Sides. The peaks of a manor house appeared over the orchard trees, and then the lanes came to an end at a packed dirt yard before the house itself. A well-built man with chin length honey colored hair stood in the doorway to the house with his feet spread and his arms crossed. I guessed he was from Remko’s generation, and I liked him immediately because of the association. He watched the company spill out of the orchard and pool in his yard like an overflown spring, and then he smiled. The look so transformed his face I felt like I was looking at a different man. He stepped forward.

“Quilleran! How you’ve grown!”

“Iron Sides! Yet only one foot in the grave?” asked Quill, dismounting and moving forward to greet Iron Sides with manly back slapping.

“Just a toe,” replied Iron Sides with a grin before turning to Vaudrin. “Vaudrin Lakeside? The guard suits you, too.”  Iron Sides was the same height as Vaudrin, but his build was tighter knit and it gave the odd impression that he was a small man. Small and dangerous, like a crossbow quarrel, I thought. “Your men and women we can feed in day laborer’s hall,” Iron Sides was saying, “we’ve been preparing for them since your scouts told us of your approach.”

“Thank you,” said Quill, “And we have three for your hearth, also.” Quill gestured to my brothers and I. “They are allies.”

Iron Sides turned to us. “Come in, and welcome to my home,” he bowed and gestured for us to follow him inside.

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28-Underway Again

With a deep breath I began to sum up the exploration of the garrison. Telling the story made me feel like my actions were very reckless. I winced as I related my impulsive strike on the men in the girl’s room, and made sure to prominently mention Olena’s news that our family had already been moved. They already knew about the harrowing escape through the tunnel so I didn’t dwell there. My brothers could well remember the unpleasantness of such a project, and the others would never know anyway. I tried to gloss over the skirmish with the patrolmen at the river, and summed up as quickly as I could our getting over the wall and crawling to the woods. I was relieved when Jemin stepped in again to relate his side.

Jemin explained his diversion, that he had gone to the main road and—using those sad remaining sheaves of wheat—lit a fire in the street roughly the shape of a prancing horse, the old seal of Gillenwater.

Quill and Vaudrin were both nodding. “It is too early to involve Dalyn publicly, and under the circumstances implying Galhara’s involvement would be unwise also,” commented Vaudrin.

“Does anyone in Gillenwater actually oppose the Nether Queen?” I asked.

“None love her, but few would have the courage to stand up to her without some great aid,” replied Jemin. “Perhaps the burning horse will give them courage.”

“Perhaps,” said Quill, “But we should move on from this place immediately. If the garrison searches the countryside, we need to be farther than half a day’s walk.”

I felt despair rising in me as I realized there would be no rest. “But we have walked all night, I don’t think the women can keep going like this.” I couldn’t go on like this.

“They have to,” said Namal, looking at me compassionately, “But they can take turns riding Sinker—he can likely carry three at a time.”

A sigh escaped the depths of my being. “Very well. But I would like to change my clothes.” I picked up the hem of my very humble homespun, which was looking even worse after the night of abuse I had given it.

“It will take a little while to get ready to leave, so you have time to freshen up,” Quill looked to Vaudrin. “Have the men get ready, we leave within the hour.”

Vaudrin rose and immediately set about the business of recalling their scouts and sentries.

“Come on, Zare,” Ayglos stood and offered me his hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

I took the hand up gratefully, and Ayglos led me over to where our packs sat in a tidy pile at the base of a tree. He located mine and handed it to me. I deposited my crossbow and daggers on the ground to take the pack. I rummaged for a clean tunic, trousers, and a linen wash cloth, then ducked behind a larger tree to shed my filthy clothes and shoes. I scrubbed myself quickly, then with a shiver slipped into the dry clothes. I had forgotten what dry clothes felt like—and just how much warmer they were than damp! There was no help for the shoes, and damp shoes were better than nothing. Wadding up my rags I came back around the tree. Ayglos was waiting.

“At our next stop I want to burn these,” I held up my bundle. “They are not worth—nor likely to survive—the effort to scrub the blood out.” I stuffed my distasteful wad in the pack. I wished I could leave it under the tree, but if it was found then the Nether Queen’s soldiers would know they were headed in the right direction.

“How are you?” Ayglos asked, searching my face with his green-flecked eyes.

I shrugged. “Exhausted.” I picked up the leather belt and sheathed daggers and strapped them back around my waist. “And I already feel naked without these.”

“You’re not wounded?” he prodded, pulling out one of our cloaks and draping it around my shoulders. “Or otherwise scarred?”

“Not wounded. If you mean mentally scarred…I don’t know yet.” I sat down and pulled my knees up. “I think I’m fine, but I’m too tired to know for sure. I don’t think I killed them all—there are a couple that I just knocked out. Is that bad? Should I have killed them?”

My brother looked at me, tenderness radiated from him like heat from a hearth fire—a welcome refuge after being out in a storm. “Not necessarily—even if they recognized you, they might not want to own up to being so thoroughly trounced by a seventeen-year-old girl.”

I smirked. “Some girls my age are already ruling kingdoms or raising children, it’s not such an insult.” Though, not many girls my age were running around with knives and swords.

Ayglos smiled, then said, “I guess we always forget that you lived through the siege, too.”

I cocked an eye at him. “And that I fought by your side.”

“Yes, and that you fought by my side.”

“And survived just fine,” I added, “Valiantly. Better than you, even.”

Ayglos prodded me with his foot. “Don’t push it.”

I grinned and closed my eyes. “I wished for you often, never fear.”

Ayglos laughed.

He had beaten me in every single duel we had ever fought. Usually I pretended that wasn’t the case because it was more fun that way. “Wake me up when we’re leaving,” I said.

“Of course.” I heard him walking away as I gave myself to the dark of my eyelids

When Ayglos shook my shoulder I swore that no time had passed—and I was nearly right. It had only taken Quill’s men a half an hour to get ready. Even with finding cloaks for all the girls. It appeared that they simply existed in a state of being able to pick up and run at a moment’s notice. My horses, Sinker and Hook, were standing in the center of the glen, and Gabe was boosting women onto Sinker’s back. I smiled at the women but went straight to the horses and let them sniff my hands. They remembered me. They’d better. I scratched Hook’s neck, and he relaxed into my touch just as much as I into his.

Quill approached. “You should ride, my lady,” he said.

“I still have legs,” I countered, “You’re the one who needs to ride.”

“I will, later,” He stopped next to me. “Jemin and the red-head—Olena?—told me of your deeds. You have earned a ride.”

I was puzzled. “Didn’t I tell you my deeds?”

Quill smiled and arched his eyebrow, my heart flopped. “An abbreviated version, yes. Jemin expounded on your inventiveness, and Olena on your prowess—taking on three men with naught but your daggers and a broken bottle after swimming for two hours with barely a break.”

“Olena killed one of them,” I corrected.

“And playing a ghost to haunt the men on the wall,” his smile broadened to a grin. “I wish I could have seen it. Jemin said you gave him a bit of a turn himself.”

I looked down, then at Hook’s ears. My cheeks were warm from Quill’s praise and I didn’t know what to say. Princesses should know what to say, but my ingenuity was apparently spent for the time being.

“Did you know that this week should have been the Feast of Maten?”

“Maten?” I furrowed my brow. I had forgotten about that feast. The mountain cities observed this feast, it had to do with the man and woman—Maten and Nelia?—who lead the mountain cities to victory against a warlock. “Maten died,” I said slowly, “because he took the warlock personally to the gates of hell…and then didn’t make it back?”

“And after helping the cities rebuild, she disappeared. They say she left to find him, that she roams the earth to this day looking for him.” Quill’s eyes were sparkling. “She had dark hair like you, as the story goes.”

My ears couldn’t get redder as I discovered that the feeling of accidently achieving something incredible felt awfully similar to nearly falling off a cliff. I shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t know that.”

“Jemin also told me that you overrode him and kept him from sacrificing himself to cover your escape. I am grateful to you for preserving one of my best men. There aren’t many your age—man or woman—who would have performed so well. Were you not born with rank, I would gladly give you one,” Quill bowed at the waist, “Rest a little, and later I will ride. It’s not a short journey to Dalyn; you’ll get your chance to walk.”

If he was going to insist, I wasn’t going to argue. My spirits bolstered, I mustered enough energy to jump on Hook’s back—rather less gracefully than usual—and once we were underway I nodded off to the rhythm of his walk. Maybe Eloi hadn’t forgotten us.

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sketches – Hawkgirl

IMG_3771

Shayera, Hawkgirl…one of my favorite characters from the Justice League. There isn’t a lot of Hawkgirl memorabilia out there, so I thought I’d start working on some. I imagine more will turn up since she’s a character on a new live action show (Legends of Tomorrow), but I’m old school and like the old JLA Hawkgirl better.

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27-Small Victories

 

What remained of the night passed in a blur of olive and pine trees. I mostly remember the scent of the earth, and those horrible little vines which trail along the ground solely to trip unsuspecting travelers. I gave away my curtain to one of the smaller girls for whatever warmth it could offer. I remembered no color, and only a vague surprise when I realized I could see the trees I touched. The world crept into gray, then eventually grew brave and donned green, then all at once the sun covered the forest in brazen gold.

Even though I felt dead, I lifted my face to the sun’s touch and let myself smile a little. We’d been out of the city for hours and were still alive, and still free. I looked at the women, nine were my circus girls, three I didn’t know before last night. My girls were dirty, pale, one or two were sniffling after a cold night in damp clothes, but their eyes were bright with freedom.

“I have never been so glad to see the sun,” whispered Olena, pausing to look around. Her eyes fell on me and she reached for my hand. “Thank you.”

I squeezed her hand and said nothing. It was a miracle, I noted, that we’d gotten this far. I wasn’t about to take credit for that. We walked all morning without a rest. I think Jemin was afraid that if we stopped at all we would never start again. So while our pace dwindled and hunger began to rear its head, we kept on. It’s not as if we had any food anyway. I remembered mournfully the supplies we’d left at the little inn in Gillenwater…and my donkey! When I remembered Line I spun as if to go back for him before realizing it was impossible. I hoped the tavern keeper would be good to him.

Our pace was such that it was afternoon when we reached the dancing little stream that would lead us to the camp. We all knelt gratefully on the stream’s banks and drank our fill.

Jemin made us cross over to the other side before following it south. “In case they bring out their hunting hounds,” he explained.

I didn’t think they would if they hadn’t yet, but one never knew. We’d only been walking an hour or so more when one of Quill’s scouts hailed us. Another twenty minutes and we walked into the little camp by the gorge. The score of men loitering around the glen leapt to their feet at our approach. Everyone looked stunned.

The awkward silence was broken by Gabe—the circus strongman—who pushed several men out of his way and ran across the stream crying, “Adva! Adva!”

One of the acrobats threw out her arms and ran to meet him. “Gabreal!” When they met, Gabe scooped the slight acrobat into his arms and collapsed to his knees weeping. She wrapped her arms around his neck and cried, too.

Then suddenly my brothers and Balleck were splashing across the stream and I realized that I was still at the back of the group and Olena was with me.

Jemin realized it, too, and quickly held up his hands, “Lady Zare is here!”

I grabbed Olena’s arm and pulled her forward. The others made way and we met our kin next to Jemin in a gasping mess of suffocating embraces—family first, then friends. My brothers and Balleck, who had obviously been worried, were now alarmed that they had not been worried enough, but were giddy that we’d turned up anyway. In all the excitement even Balleck gave me a fierce embrace, and I was pretty sure that Ayglos kissed Olena. For several minutes there was nothing but hugs and exclamations as they greeted all the circus women—and even the girls they didn’t know—with warmth and rejoicing. Returning to Olena and I, they fell upon us again.

“Zare—what has happened?” demanded Ayglos, after my bothers had crushed me with a second round of affection. “Your clothes are damp—is that blood on them? Are you alright? How did you get the women back? And where are our parents and Nadine?”

I swallowed. “They were already gone.” I felt so very many things, but at this moment I felt more like crying than anything else. “May we have food and sit down?” I asked weakly.

This set off another flurry of activity as the rebel soldiers hurried to help the women across the water, make places for them to sit, and bring out cheese, dates and bread for us to eat. Namal guided me over to a spot near a large rock where I saw Quill standing squarely, his arms crossed. I sat down on the ground without waiting for a bedroll and curled my fingers into the scrubby grass. Sitting down: The only thing better would be laying down.

Namal sat down beside me.

“Welcome back, my lady,” said Quill, lowering himself to the ground.

“Thank you.” I watched him—he was favoring his wounded leg but making a real effort to use it. My eyes narrowed. “No one changed your bandage while I was gone.”

“And yet I still live,” returned Quill. “It appears that you had an eventful scouting mission.”

I nodded, I felt like a pound of sand was in my eyes. “I lost my donkey.”

Namal looked at me incredulously.

Quill’s face twisted as he tried to stifle a laugh.  “For a start, anyway,” coughed Quill as Ayglos, Jemin and Vaudrin joined us.

I felt a smile tug at my lips.

Jemin handed me food and I fell upon it without mercy. The others waited patiently as Jemin and I ate, and when we were done Namal said, “Report.”

I arched a brow at him, but Jemin began to relate the whole story—starting with our arrival in the city, the opinions of the people, and the plans we made to find out the lay of the garrison.

When he got to the water tunnel everyone looked sharply at me—but for different reasons. Quill and Vaudrin, at least, looked at my brothers also, with the revelation that they were also half-blooded. My brothers’ eyes bored into me and I could already guess their reproaches. Yet with our mother a prisoner, secrecy about our blood was almost certainly pointless. I returned their looks tartly, and then gave my attention to Jemin just in time to hear him say, “When Lady Zare returned she brought one of the kidnapped women back with her through the tunnel, and then spent the next two hours extracting all the others. I have not heard her portion of the tale.”

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25-Ghosts

Movement caught my eye and I spun. To my right, a ragged curtain fluttered from the second story of a rundown building. The curtain looked pale and mournful, a ghost of how things used to be in Gillenwater. A ghost. I paused and looked down at my homespun. Then I ran across the street to the building and began climbing its dilapidated side. When I reached the curtain I tangled my fingers in its shreds and tugged until it came loose with a dull crack. I slung the rags over my shoulder and climbed back down to the street. I took off toward the wall at a quick jog; I didn’t dare look back to see if anyone appeared at the window I’d defrocked. When I reached the end of the street I stopped. There wasn’t much to the curtain, but what there was I spread across my shoulders so it hung from my arms like robes.

Drawing a deep breath I drew myself up and stepped out into the lane between the houses and the city wall. All the dance lessons from my childhood and the days and days of practice with the circus served me now. I moved as lightly as laundry turning in the wind. My arms rose and floated out by my sides as if on their own, and I glided smoothly across the ground. It was easy enough to imagine myself a heartbroken ghost haunting the wall, and to make my expression one of vague sadness—I just had to remember how cold I was and how much further we had to go. Also that I had to keep the men on the wall from noticing thirteen people climb the stairs.

Suddenly afraid that no one on the wall would notice me, I let out a long moan—loudly.

I felt ridiculous.

An excruciatingly long moment passed and I hazarded turning my face toward the city wall.  To my relief my gaze met one of the inward-facing soldier’s. I didn’t flinch, but gave him a deep mournful look and slowed my floating walk.

He tapped the soldier nearest him and that soldier turned around to stare also. I slipped to a stop and faced the city wall and swayed in the night breeze as I imagined a ghost might. Out of the corner of my eye I saw another man turned around, then another.

I was also vaguely aware of Jemin at the edge of my periphery. He gained the top of the wall and choke the first soldier he reached. My heart quickened.  I wanted to watch Jemin but daren’t. Focusing on the soldiers before me, I raised one hand and moaned imploringly. The men on the wall looked thoroughly unsettled. I raised my other hand and moaned again.

I caught a glimpse of the girls darting to the stairs. This was the hardest part—and how was I supposed to get over? I grimaced inwardly; my father was right about my ability to get into trouble.

I lowered my hand to my side in a slow fluid movement—as if my arm were made of paper and drifting down as fast as it could go. Most of the men on this stretch of wall were watching me now. I moved back a step, and searched the faces of the soldiers as if despairing of help. They stared back at me, some looked nervous, some frightened, and one or two looked sad.

I was pretty sure the girls were up the stairs and hiding in the shadow thrown by the guard house.

I took another floating step backwards. Then, since I couldn’t afford to back into a wall and betray my solidity, I pivoted until I was pointed at an alley and started gliding down it. I kept up the drifting movement until I reached a cross street and could duck out of sight. Once around the corner I jerked off the ragged curtain and rolled it up. Tucking it under my arm I ran down the street and turned down the next alley toward the wall.

Some of the soldiers were staring searchingly at the alley I had disappeared down—others were talking amongst themselves. I darted across the open space and made the stairs without attracting attention. When I reached the top of the stairs I saw that the guard at the top leaned awkwardly on the guardhouse—unconscious, or dead. I crept past him and found Jemin crouched in the doorway. He gestured for me to enter the guardhouse.

The guardhouse had one torch flickering in a corner—though I saw sconces for more. There was a tall, thin window—probably only two feet across—facing the outside and Olena stood by it with six of our rescued women. This explained where Jemin had managed to hide so many people. I hadn’t thought of hiding inside the guardhouse. Jemin followed me inside and took up a position next to the doorway, ready to pounce on any soldier who happened by.

One end of Jemin’s stolen rope was tied to an empty sconce and the other disappeared out the window. I noticed three more inert soldiers in the corner. Olena gave me a grim smile as one of the other girls got started climbing down the rope. I felt a horrible weight in my stomach. So many to go—I had cut my ghost act too quickly. The first girl disappeared from view and immediately another hopped up on the ledge. She grabbed the rope ably and spun lightly into the darkness beyond. As soon as she was gone from view another took her place. Acrobats. The number of women in the guardhouse dwindled quickly as the circus performers took on something they knew how to handle—rope and heights.

Olena looked at me. “I sent the girls from town among the first—since they would need the most time.”

I smiled, a real smile, “Good thinking.”

When it was down to just Olena and I, Jemin stepped back from the entryway. Olena hopped up on the sill, grasped the rope and started a skilled descent. I stuffed my curtain down my tunic and jumped up behind her. I waited till Olena was halfway down, and then swung myself off the sill into the darkness.

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