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100 – The Road Ahead

At dusk, we laid the King of Dalyn to rest in an over grown walled garden beside the ruined house. The knights had slowly gathered stone rubble on their patrols throughout the day, and now we all helped raise a cairn over Tarr Kegan’s body. We had nothing to bury with him to indicate rank or honor besides the thin circlet he’d worn in the ballroom. We had no flowers. No tapestries. Not even a sword we could spare. Just broken stone. Hess watched us work from nearby, Tarryn in her arms and Naran clutching her skirt. The other four children clustered around her, watching solemnly as the cairn rose higher. I wondered if any of them had met the man assumed their sire. The man whose generosity and craftiness had backfired on them and torn them from their mothers. Would they hate him if they did understand?

Rock after misshapen rock passed from one calloused hand to another until Tarr’s form was entirely protected by the shattered pieces of Rhydderhall. Nothing but starlight and the glow from the rising moon illuminated Trinh as he climbed up our little mound and set a white piece of marble at the pinnacle. The marble was part of a carved frieze, but all that remained was a ship with three masts riding a wave. Trinh stepped back down and stood facing the cairn, his hands hanging at his sides. For a moment, I could almost see his thoughts: They swirled around him, condemning ghosts crushing him with the enormity of his defeat. It was as if he finally believed, for the first time, that his family had died six years ago and his beloved had not been seen or heard from since. He finally believed, and it would tear him apart.

Hesperide approached the cairn and sank to her knees, putting one hand on the stones. Naran, still at her side, did the same, bowing his little head. Her presence calmed the chaos radiating from Trinh with a leaden blanket of sorrow.

No one said anything.

After several long moments, Trinh put his hand on Hess’s shoulder. She looked up at him, then accepted his help up. Time to mourn was another thing we didn’t have to give Tarr.

We had miles to go tonight, to get as far as we could in different directions and fade into trade routes from different cities. Eventually, we’d all flee west. West, to bright Magadar. To lick our wounds, and to hide Tarr’s heirs. And for my brothers and me, to find our court.

Trinh led Hess back into the ruin where our carefully portioned packs and supplies waited. The rest followed one by one; knights, children, and my brothers each laying a hand on the cairn in farewell before filing back into the desolate villa. I heard one knight mutter, “May the immortal Breath bear you swiftly to Eloi in paradise.” Traditional words.

When it was only Quill and I left in the walled garden. I approached the cairn, stopping at the base and staring at it while I fingered my gold pendant with the sailing ships. How could this cold white pile of rocks contain the red tipped hair and burning blue eyes of that mad, brave, king?

I felt Quill stop beside me. The few hours we’d both been up had been busy dividing the supplies and the money from Tarr’s gifts between the four traveling groups. We’d talked just enough for me to learn that he had barely a scratch after last night’s battles, and that he and the doctor’s son were going with Hess and her children tonight. The children were divided among Trinh’s knights. The Galhirim would be entirely on our own for the first time in our lives. Strange to think we’d made it this far without experiencing that.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you we were staying to face the Huntsmen,” I said, eyes on the cairn, “I wanted to thank you for coming back for us.”

Quill nodded, “It’s what we do, come back for each other.”

I looked at him, then. The moon touched the angles of his face, and I found myself wanting to do the same as he gave me a small smile. I didn’t, but my answering smile felt like a promise. Even as I said, “You still owe me.”

He scoffed, “I don’t think the doctoring counts as many times as you think it does.” He plucked my sleeve right above my stiches. “And stop using your arm to block blades.”

My lips quirked. “I learned from the best.” I tugged his sleeve where he’d taken a sword in Gillenwater, so long ago.

His eyes sparked. Then he asked, “Which of you killed Khattmali?”

I drew a breath and let it out, “I did.”

A pause as satisfaction painted itself across every line of his face.

I continued, “She said she was the foremost of the Queen’s Huntsmen. That she had been rewarded the position in Dalyn to woo Tarr.”

“Huntsmen,” repeated Quill. “Ayglos mentioned them. Said they hunt without hounds.”

I thought of the golden woman who’d helped both Ayglos and I; who had undoubtedly been the one to keep Ayglos from being hit squarely in the spine when the Huntsmen first caught up with us. “I think they hunt,” I hesitated, “…by magic. And I don’t think we killed them all.”

Quill looked thoughtful. “I will find out more about them. Once Hess is safe.” He looked over his shoulder at the villa.

“You’re coming back?” I asked. No one had discussed coming back yet, and I feared he would say no. That he’d stay with Hess, wherever she holed up, and leave this fight for good. For me, the only road away from Dalyn curved right back to it.

Our eyes locked, the moon brightening his gaze with white fire. He was angry. I realized with some surprise that I’d never seen his anger before. Not like this. Quilleran Rhydderick was angry. Not at me, but at Narya Magnifique. Perhaps at himself, too. His voice was low, “We still have to be the ones to write the history.” To tell the real story of Tarr Kegan.

Something in me unfurled, like someone breathed on kindling at just the right moment to give life to fire, and I nodded. Then, crouching, I placed my hand on the stones. My fingers curling around a jagged edge as if I were holding Tarr’s hand. “We’re not done here,” I said half to Quill, half to the silent cairn and the man underneath. “We will be the ghosts who haunt the Nether Queen. The ones she could not catch. Could not kill. The light she could not smother.”

*

This is the end of The River Rebellion. Zare Caspian will return.

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99-Threads

 

Sunlight was streaming through the wall slits by the time Quill sat down in front of me at the table, the blonde woman coming to stand behind him. In the meager daylight, he looked haggard, and his dark clothes were discolored by dried blood. But his eyes were clear as he regarded me.

I was deliriously tired, but I gave him a small smile before asking, “Where are you hurt?”  The same question I’d asked each one of Trinh’s knights. I was also running low on supplies now, since most of Trinh’s men had had wounds to bandage. Nothing that wouldn’t heal. Nothing too horrific. Namal had been at my side the entire time. He’d kept the basin full of clean water and helped anytime I’d needed another hand. Even with the knights who’d needed stitches, though both of us had struggled not to retch through the entire process. I would never travel anywhere without a doctor in tow ever again.

“My soul,” Quill replied brightly, then leaned forward, “Which will heal eventually. But, my lady, it’s your turn for treatment.”

I blinked at him. Then looked down at my mauled armor and the blood long dried on my arm. I’d locked the pain behind some door and forgotten. As if it had been lying in wait for Quill’s cue, the lock shattered and my chest began to ache. My arm, which I had been using all evening, became leaden, and I too weak to lift it.  

“He’s right,” said my brother, his voice tender. “Let’s get that armor off.”

I tried to lift my arm so he could reach the buckles of the breastplate, but instead, a whine slipped out of me and my arm stayed in place on the table. Quill was on his feet immediately, gently picking up my arm and holding it out of Namal’s way. Then, when Namal had the breastplate free, Quill unbuckled the vambrace.

The blonde stepped forward, then, and got the other vambrace off. Then she growled at the two men, “Go tend the fire.”

I didn’t totally register why until she looked pointedly at my shirt. “Oh.” I swiveled toward the wall and reached with my good arm to start tugging at the hem. She helped pull the thick shirt over my head, peeling it off my arms. I whimpered as it tore from the dried blood. Even with my tolerance for cold, I shivered. The gold pendant with the sailing ships hung just below the massive purple bruise on my sternum.

The blonde inspected bruise. Her eyes flicked to mine, they were gray, I noticed, as she said, “Sorry,” and prodded the bruise.

I yelped and recoiled, slamming her hand away instinctively.

“Was that a blinding, ice pick like, stabbing pain?”

I hissed at her, covering my chest with my hand. “No. Just a sprawling, burning pain. A little warning next time.”

She pursed her lips. “Maybe cracked, definitely bruised.” Then she swirled her fingers in my pot of salve and, prying my hand away, applied the salve liberally to the bruise.

“We don’t have any more of that,” I objected through gritted teeth.

“Shush,” she ignored me and reached for a linen shirt she must’ve brought over with her. “Put this on so you don’t freeze.”

It was even worse when she cleaned the gash on my arm. She wasn’t exactly gentle, and I hissed and snapped at her. She hissed and snapped back. When she started threading a needle I leapt up from the chair, knocking it over with my haste.

The blonde rolled her eyes, “Don’t be a baby.”

“Baby?” I snapped, “You’re a butcher.”

“Sit down before you bleed out,” she retorted.

“I wouldn’t be bleeding again if you weren’t a brute.”

She spread her hands, “Do you want to die from gaping wounds?”

“I might!”

She snorted and resumed threading. Energy leached from me and I picked up the chair with my good hand and sank back into it. I felt Namal’s hands on my back as I set my arm on the table and then my forehead. I felt the prick of the needle, and then the pull of the thread through my flesh. Then the world pulled away into darkness. Later, I was vaguely aware of being set down in blankets among warm bodies.

*

Without opening my eyes, I could sense that the atmosphere in the cellar was entirely different. There were tiny voices laughing and little feet pounding around the room. Hew woofed. Above that, I could hear the murmur of men’s voices. Namal and Trinh. The cellar was filled with the smell of wood smoke and dog. I opened an eye. The princes were at the table deep in conversation. There were still several knights sleeping around me in the blanket nest. The children, however, appeared to all be awake and chasing Hew around the room.

I opened my other eye and pushed myself upright with my good arm. My muscles were stiff. The fire had died, or been put out, long ago, and the light seeping through the slits painted warm stripes along the ceiling. It must be late afternoon. Hesperide was sitting in the nest, her back against the wall, the baby nursing at her breast. She was looking at me now, a smile on her lips, though her eyes were rimmed with red and her cheeks were wet.

Without a thought, I crawled over the blankets and the legs of knight to wrap my arms around her and the baby. She freed a hand to grasp me and bury her face in my shoulder. We sat in silence, clutching each other until the baby started to wiggle in protest. I pulled away and peered at the infant. Hess sniffed and wiped her face. “Thank you for coming for us,” she said, her voice watery.

I touched the full head of dark hair on the baby. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save Tarr.” I replied, soul aching.

Hess shook her head. “You all are going to have to get over that.” Her eyes met mine, “Quill told me what you did for him, pulling him out of the ballroom. He’s the last of my family, you know. Thank you.”

Heat climbed my neck to my cheeks and I looked down. Then I said, “Have you named the baby?”

A real smiled bloomed on Hesperide’s face. “Tarryn Nelia Kegan.”

Tarryn for her father. Nelia for the ghost who’d inspired her father. Nelia—for me. I smiled, too. “She’s perfect.” Shifting, I set my back against the wall next to Hess. “How long have you been in the nest?”

“Hours. I got cold over there by myself,” she nodded at the walled off part of the cellar. “Athrynel and Quill stayed with me, but once I was cleaned up and had slept off the first edge of exhaustion we moved over here. Much warmer. More blankets.”

“Did you know Trinh’s knights…before?” I asked.

She nodded. “Not well—we were years apart in age. I looked up to them.”

Hew trotted past, the children giggling behind him.

“We’re leaving tonight,” said Hess softly, “Dividing the children up and making family units so we can blend in.”

“To Magadar?” I asked, feeling my heart twist at the thought of separation.

She nodded. “For now, at least.” Tarryn was asleep, and Hess gently removed her from her breast and settled her in her lap, shrugging her tunic back down. “I have never left Dalyn before, but I feel as though Magadar might not be far enough to keep them out of her reach. Trinh wanted to go to the Chancellor for sanctuary—but I have no interest in that—why would they harbor the mistress of a dead king? A mistress who stole his heirs?”

“You were his queen,” I said softly, “You know that. It’s not like you’re without a title if you told them who you really are.”

Hess touched her baby’s head. “My title was lost, my lands given to another. I am nothing and no one—except a mother with children to protect.”

I didn’t reply. My thoughts had turned to my own mother, who was likely in a tavern on the Market Road with my father and sister waiting for news of what happened at the Midwinter Ball. When word came of that utter disaster, they would proceed to Magadar themselves, trusting we would follow. They would seek out the shattered remains of our court in the circus. I didn’t know what father would do after that. Would he go to the Chancellor of Magadar? Or would we vanish into the circus forever? I turned the idea over and over in my head—like a little orb filled with bright tents and colorful people I could turn in my hand and watch them dance and spin. I tried to imagine myself inside the orb. Tried to imagine spinning fire with Balleck or exploring a new town with the acrobats. It didn’t fit, didn’t feel right. Not anymore.

Hew bounded onto the pile of blankets and shoved an exuberant face into mine. I barely got my hands up in time to ward off his tongue as the children chasing him threw themselves onto both of us. The other knights remaining in the nest stirred, the one I’d crawled over moaned. I startled, recognizing Quill’s voice. His arm snaked out from under the blankets and tackled two of the children, who shrieked with delight. Another knight groaned in protest.

Namal and Trinh stopped their conference at the table and turned to watch as the blankets full of people dissolved into a thrashing mess of arms, legs, squealing children and a barking hound. Hess sucked back into the wall, Tarryn tucked in close, watching with amusement. I laughed, fending off Hew and coming face to face with the blue eyes and red hair of Naran. I caught Naran and tickled his ribs, he howled before thrashing to freedom—only to be captured by Quill, who was much harder to escape. When Naran at last tumbled away, he was grinning ear to ear, eyes sparkling. Laughter ached, but it also renewed. I knew that I would not stay in Magadar.

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98-Rhydderhall

By the time we arrived at the ruins of Rhydderhall I had forgotten we had a destination at all. The tunnels let out north of the city, and near the Bandui. We’d crossed the river in the same little boat Trinh and his knights had used when they first returned in secret to Dalyn. The children were in cold stupors, and Quill was all but carrying Hesperide when we stumbled down the remote lane to Rhydderhall. Namal and Baldric were waiting for us in the desolate little garden outside the kitchen, presumably alerted to our approach by sentries. Their eyes went wide as we dragged ourselves in, the sky graying to dawn behind us.

Baldric took one look at Hesperide’s pinched face and darted forward to scoop her into his arms. She sagged against his hulking body as he turned and rushed her into the ruined house. We followed slowly, unable to muster any enthusiasm to cover that last few steps with anything resembling speed. Quill lifted Naran from my arms and I was too tired to protest that I could carry him.

Namal swept his gaze over us, taking in the extra tiny beings bundled in miscellaneous fabric and the blood frozen to our clothes. I could see him putting all the pieces together. We were alive, walking, and he knew exactly why we had so many children with us. He turned and gestured us to follow, “Come, there is water and a little food.”

“Did you have any trouble?” asked Trinh, his voice gravelly with exhaustion.

“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” replied Namal. “We set the horses loose well away from here and made good time over bare ground. The men are covering your trail from the main road. We should be able to rest the day, at least. If the cold masks our scent.”

As we entered the narrow stairwell down to the old wine cellar a woman’s groan floated up to greet us. Fantasies of curling up someplace warm to sleep for a few hours vanished like little puffs of breath on a cold wind. I should not have been surprised.

Trinh finished the stairs in two leaps—impressive with the pack on his back and the child in his arms. Namal and Rakov were right behind him, but Quill didn’t bother to rush. He knew already, of course. He’d been her walking stick for the last few hours. My feet were dragging as I closed the cellar door behind us and descended last.

“She’s in labor,” Baldric was standing in gap in the furniture wall that split the room, holding a steadying hand out to Trinh. The rightful king looked very much like he should be holding a giant sword in his fists instead of a heavily bundled child. He stared blankly at Baldric a moment before all the action drained out of him, leaving him with a dazed expression.

I had never been anywhere near a woman in labor—and though the cooks at Galhara were very educational human beings. I looked around the cellar. A few lit candles showed that it was as we’d left it. It was, while not warm exactly, warmer than it was outside. A couple of Trinh’s knights were standing on one side of the room, rumpled blankets on the floor behind them as if they’d been trying to rest before we arrived.

“I don’t think it will be long, now,” continued Baldric.

“Her labor started when running in the tunnels,” said Quill very quietly.

She hadn’t said a word or made a sound. Tears stung my eyes.

“We have to risk a fire,” I said, “We’ll need hot water.” Babies needed cleaning, if nothing else. We needed heat, too, and there were plenty of wounds which also needed attention if we were to survive long enough to escape.

Two of the knights sprang to action, darting past me and up the cellar stairs into the dawn.

I slung my pack off my shoulder, dropping it with a heavy thunk next to the lone table before opening it to fish out Boitumelo’s satchel. Satchel in hand, I headed behind the make shift wall. Hess was hunched over, back propped against the cold stone wall, her head in her hands. Her underthings were already in a pile next to her and her dress was hiked over her knees. A knight was crouched beside her, stroking her hair. I blinked in surprise when I realized the knight was a woman. She was dressed in warm clothes reinforced with leather armor. Her hair was restrained in a long dark braid. She turned to look at me when I entered, her chin dipped, “Your Highness.” She was a few years older than me. Her face was not delicate, but she had a fearsome sort of beauty with thin lips and large dark eyes.

My steps slowed as I approached. “I don’t remember you,” I said. Too tired, apparently, for manners.

She gave me a small smile, as if I’d revealed her greatest secret. “I am Athrynel Hasreda, the King’s Marksman.”

Pausing, I looked at her again, remembering the hail of arrows which held the Nether Queen’s soldiers back while Quill and I leapt into the river. I met her eyes, “You probably saved our lives.”

Her smiled broadened a little. “You’re welcome.”

I opened the satchel, surveying the contents as if I had any idea what I was looking for. Athrynel stood and came to look over my shoulder. “Do you know how to use this?” she asked, eyeing the kit.

“For wounds,” I replied, helplessly. “I grew up during a war.”

Hess moaned again and my eyes flew to her. She still had her head in her hands.

“Well, I wouldn’t expect you’d learn midwifery in peacetime either,” Athrynel clucked and crouched to sift through the satchel.

She pulled a couple bottles out, then pushed the rest of the satchel back to me. “Most of the men have one scratch or another, do what you can. I’ll stay with Hestria. You find me some blankets or something and hurry them up on that fire.”

“Do you know anything about midwifery?” I asked, picking up the satchel and gladly moving away.

“No,” Athrynel turned back to Hess. “But I helped a cow once, long ago. And someone will fetch Gyreon off patrol. He picked up some of his father’s physician trade before deciding war was easier.”

I didn’t know who Gyreon was and wasn’t sure how much help he’d be if he’d left doctoring because he preferred fighting. Perhaps still more helpful than me. I returned to rest of the cellar to find that Trinh had recovered somewhat from his shock. He and his knights were busy unwinding children from their individual bundles, chafing cold little hands back to warmth, and rearranging the clothes and blankets into a den where they could tuck all the children together for maximum warmth. I stole one of the blankets, and as an afterthought pulled the servant’s warm clothes out of my pack, carrying it all back to Athrynel and Hess. As I left them, a knight came barreling down the cellar stairs and straight past me to Hess. Gyreon, I guessed.

Ayglos was sitting at the table, his wounded arm hanging limp. I started pulling things out of the satchel. “Namal, help him take the uniform off.”

Namal joined us in the puddle of candlelight and helped Ayglos unfasten the buttons of the uniform and shrug it off his good shoulder. Ayglos leaned forward and just gritted his teeth as Namal peeled the blood stiff jacket off the wounded shoulder and down the arm. Domjoa would not be pleased we’d destroyed his expensive fake uniform. The shirt underneath was thoroughly dried to Ayglos’s skin, and after prying at it we decided to wait for water.

While we worked, the door opened again, and another knight came down the stairs. I was surprised to see another woman, this one with short, dirty blonde hair, wearing the same sort of clothes and armor as Athrynel. She carried a bundle of wood in her arms. She scanned the room till she found Trinh, and said, “We’ve got a little fire going, and I found a pot for boiling water. I think we should consider building a fire down here so the babes don’t catch their death.”

The knights had wrapped themselves in their cloaks and alighted around the bed of children like migratory birds. Hew was burrowed in the center of them, his nose and his tail just visible amongst the folds and mounds.

“There’s no chimney,” protested one of the knights.

“We could use the stairwell,” countered another.

“And leave poor Jasem and Rae’d stranded on patrol all day?” teased a third.

Trinh jumped in, “Jasem could jump over the fire—and Rae’d is very lucky, I’m sure he’d be fine.”

Gruff laughter rumbled through the flock of knights.

Laughter.

I dragged my eyes to Trinh, surprised to see a smile teasing at his mouth.

“The bigger problem is we’ll have to jump to get out,” someone said.

“Better rest up, then.” The blonde smiled and dumped her armload of wood right next to the stairs.

Quill emerged from the huddle to help the blonde set up a make shift hearth just a foot away from the stairs, and to prop the door at the top of the stairs so it stayed open wide enough to lure the smoke out.

While we waited, I laid out astringent, salve, and the few bandages we still had. Namal hunted down the pitcher and basin we’d used last time we were here. Then we sat shredding a sheet from the villa into long strips. Who knew cloth would become so precious to us?

And while we waited, Hess’s moans became cries.

Quill had just coaxed the flame to life when the blonde left again and returned carrying a steaming pot. She edged around the fledgling fire and brought the pot to the table, filling the pitcher and basin I’d set out. She took the pitcher and headed behind the furniture wall.

Then, like the bells of the Cathedral calling worshippers to prayer, the squalling of a baby filled the cellar, reverberating off the stone walls. We all stopped to listen. Relief blossomed so tangibly from the cluster in the blankets that I turned to look at them. Soft voices slowly soothed the crying behind the wall. Quill left the fire and went to stand hesitantly in the opening. Tarr should be here. Trinh was staring, obviously feeling responsible, but also uncertain what his role should be. Quill was family by blood. After a moment, Quill disappeared into the back.

I turned away and soaked a rag in the basin—the water was warm, but I doubted it had been boiled. I added a splash of astringent and set to work on Ayglos’s shoulder, wetting the shirt enough to peel it away, then off entirely. The throwing knife had left behind a fairly small slit, but it was deep. I cleaned the wound as gently as I could before pasting it with salve and awkwardly wrapping bandages around his entire shoulder and across his chest to get them to stay. Ayglos had a few other nicks and slashes, and I treated them all. He bore the sting with a few hisses, and Namal helped him re-dress with clothes Quill and I had brought from the apartment.

I did my best to clean out the cloth and Namal took away the basin to dump the water and refill it with clean water.

“Who’s next?” I asked the room.

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97-Stone

A figure loomed above me, black against the lamplight. I stiffened, then I recognized Ayglos and bleated in relief. I went limp as he grasped Khattmali’s shoulders with bloodied hands and pulled her off me. He crouched by my side, “Are you alright?”

“I don’t know,” I groaned. Since I wasn’t dead, I decided to try pushing my arms under me and sitting up. My right arm protested, and my chest seized a little…but I sat up.

His hands went to my arm, gleaming with blood, and then he gingerly touched the gash in my breastplate and whistled. “That blow would have felled a boar.”

Craning my head down, I could see the ravaged leather. And beneath…shining silver links caught the lamplight. The links were damaged, but not sundered. I touched the gash. I’d gotten used to the weight of my chain link armor and had forgotten about it. I drew a deep breath. Dear Heaven, breathing hurt. But it wasn’t the same sort of pain as the pain from my broken ribs. It was more radiating than stabbing. I turned to him. “What about you?”

He grimaced. “That fight was a long time coming. I’m fine.”

I looked him over; in the lamplight, I could see the blood slicking his shoulder, and over his armor. It didn’t appear to all be his—couldn’t all be his. “You look terrifying.”

“Thanks.”

I looked over at Khattmali, tumbled where Ayglos had left her. “Is she dead?”

Ayglos crawled forward and put his fingers to her neck. After a moment he said, “Yes,” and crawled back to me. The Ambassador who’d killed and imprisoned the nymphs of the Bandui was dead. The irrational, slinking, terror that had filled the passages was gone, leaving nothing but quiet in its wake.

We scooted to lean our backs against the wall, the space so narrow Ayglos’s knees bent to fit, and his feet propped against the opposite wall.

“I don’t like Huntsmen,” I said after a moment.

Ayglos coughed a laugh. “I’m sure they don’t like you either.”

In silence we took inventory of our bruises. It was a small victory. But it was a victory. I waited for pain, or joy, or perhaps sorrow…now that the deed was done, and the lightning had ebbed from my body. Instead of emotion, I became acutely aware that we were still in the palace and needed to get out. Now.

I grunted, “We should go,” and shifted to crawl across the passage and pick up Shiharr and Azzad from where they’d fallen. I wiped them clean before sheathing them on my back.

Ayglos was also moving carefully as he gathered his feet under him and walked to retrieve the lamp. When he reached the lamp, he froze, head cocked and one hand raised to signal a halt.

I was on my knees still but obeyed, holding my breath to listen. There were footsteps running toward us…from the direction our friends had gone. Ayglos doused the lamp and I bit back a curse as total darkness enveloped us. The footsteps slowed to a cautious pace and got very, very quiet.

Aching, I got to my feet. There was no light at all in these tunnels. I drew a knife from my thigh and edged along the wall, wincing when I came to the Huntsman’s corpse, his sword still wedged in the wall right at head height. I ducked under the sword, right at the crossroads, with Ayglos only steps away.

“Zare?”  The voice was right beside me.

I jumped straight up, and narrowly stopped my hand mid-strike. “Quill!”

“You’re alive!” his voice had the gasp of relief.

“You gave me a heart attack,” I replied, sheathing the knife. “Why are you back here?”

He snorted. “Needful heroism aside, Namal would kill me if I left you two behind. Even if you did try to get left behind.” The last few words had a bite that made me blink.

“Are you…angry with me?” I asked.

“Even if you were obvious about trying to sneak off, you should have said something.”

“Wouldn’t you have just tried to stop us?”

A match fizzed to life as Ayglos re-lit the lamp.

Golden light again illuminated our pale faces, Quill looking straight at me, eyes burning with fury. He’d certainly processed his relief quickly. “Holy heaven, no! I know what needed to be done. But you don’t leave without saying something. Even if–especially if–you think you’ll die.”

“You would have let us go?” I asked again, sharply. “You wouldn’t have argued or tried to go in my place?”

The fire in his eyes flickered, but he growled. “You don’t leave your unit ignorant they’ve lost their rear guard, you don’t leave your friends wondering what happened to you.”

Ayglos broke in, “You’re right, we’re sorry.” He looked between us, his expression firm. “I’m glad you came to get us.”

Then I noticed that Quill’s clothes were spattered with blood, and he was holding a long talon shaped knife that was dripping red.  “What happened?” I demanded, cold fear shooting through me.

“Met some soldiers on my way back to get you.”

Ayglos whistled. “That could have been more exciting than I would have liked. Again, thank you.”

Quill had the good grace to tip his head in acknowledgement before looking us over critically. He noted the jagged hole in my breastplate, and then looked at the corpses past us. “Is that…a woman?” he asked.

I glanced back, “Khattmali.”

Quill paused, obviously collecting all the questions he wanted to ask and putting them somewhere safe to bring out later. “We should go.” He turned to leave, offering his free hand to me. “You can douse the lamp again, I know the way and I would rather not broadcast our presence.”

I took Quill’s hand and offered my other to Ayglos. My brother again killed the light, finding my hand in the darkness as we already started to move. I could still feel Quill’s anger simmering off him as we moved through the tunnels. I wanted to talk to him, to explain, to justify, to argue. Then I thought of the blood covering all of us, and instead squeezed his hand in silent apology. His fingers tightened in response.

Quill led us quickly, and silently, stopping only once or twice to listen. The only noise we made was when we tripped over the bodies of the men he’d killed. I had no notion of where we were in the palace, and thought ruefully that Ayglos and I would never have found our way if Quill hadn’t come back for us. Eventually, Quill stopped and let go of my hand. I heard a clank and the sound of a heavy door swinging. Quill’s fingers closed around mine again and we stepped through the door, he turned back to close the door and I heard the grind of a lock. This passage was colder than the other and felt damp. Our breaths bounced off the walls and echoed back at us. Here, everything was stone. The floor dropped in a smooth, steep descent, that had us shuffling our feet for fear of slipping before it leveled off. I heard water dripping somewhere. The sounds bouncing around us changed, and I guessed that the passage had widened into a proper cavern. I couldn’t sense the walls close beside us any longer, and Quill moved more slowly.

Pausing, Quill crouched and tapped his knife on the rocks, the same little knocking pattern that opened the King’s secret door. I fully expected the rumble of moving rock, but instead there was an answering tap from somewhere ahead and to the left. Quill adjusted his course and I stumbled as my foot caught on the uneven floor. The tap sounded again, much closer this time. The walls were getting close, not because the cavern was shrinking but because we were heading into a small corner of it.

“Stop!” a voice hissed from the darkness ahead.

I froze, sensing Ayglos go rigid behind me, and Quill said, “Lord Rakov?”

“Quilleran, you return. Were you successful?”

“I have them.”

“Good, come ahead—careful, it’s narrow.”

Quill led us forward. He grunted in pain, “You aren’t kidding.”

“Sorry,” Rakov’s voice floated ahead of us, “The door is very heavy, we didn’t open it far.”

“Watch your feet,” muttered Quill. I felt him swivel ahead of me and I copied his movement best I could. I sensed stone at my back and leaned into it, shuffling gingerly until my boots bumped the threshold and I could step up and wiggle through the narrow opening. I would have been more graceful if my hands weren’t monopolized holding onto Quill and Ayglos. Once Ayglos cleared the door I heard Rakov say, “Watch yourselves.” Then a slow grind rumbled behind us and the distinct sound of a lock thunking into place. This space was significantly smaller than the cavern on the other side of the door. The air was colder and more fresh.

Rakov moved around us, I felt him brush against my shoulder in the cramped space. “The others are this way, a little closer to the cave mouth.”

Ten more steps, then we stopped again, and I noticed new smells: dirt, straw, and possibly animal scat.

“They’re back,” said Rakov.

Movement, shifting clothes and the faint clink of armor. Trinh’s voice came from the left, and low, “Good. We should get moving. Only a few hours before dawn.”

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96-Blood and Blade

 

I felt her presence only a heartbeat before her voice slivered through the darkness, “Well, well, well. Look who we have here.”

I turned, fighting the irrational terror that assaulted my senses. Lamplight was already brushing her clothing as she approached, and I shifted my grip on my knives. I didn’t dare look over my shoulder where I could hear the clang and shuffle of Ayglos’s fight still going. Seconds, only seconds had passed since the fight started.

“Ambassador,” I said.

She stopped just as the light illuminated her eyes. She was dressed in leather armor, not the gown and layers of jewels that I’d expected. Her dark hair was pulled back in a braid and she carried two wicked fighting knives. My skin crawled at her aura even as thoughts of revenge thrilled through me.

“Regent, now,” corrected Khattmali. “I confess I’m surprised to see you here, Analie Meredithe…or should I say Zare Caspian.”

So, Bel had told her. The brooch felt like it might burn a hole through my armor.

“Is that betrayal I see in those eyes?” She laughed softly, “All my warnings about the charms of men, and you don’t heed a single one. Valredes is exceptional, isn’t he?”

I forced my lips to tip knowingly. Inside, I hated her for talking about him that way, and hated myself for caring.

She continued, “…and I almost didn’t believe Valredes when he told me.  After all this time I’d started to think Gillenwater had been lying about their catch, despite our problems with rabble rousers.” A measured glance behind me at the Huntsman slumped against the wall, dying. At the fight still going on beyond that. “How many are you?”

I didn’t answer.

Her eyes returned to me, coldly taking in the Galharan albatross emblazoned across my breastplate.  “Did Kegan know who you really were?”

“You don’t know? That must gall you,” I purred.

Khattmali’s lip curled, “To think I had a Galharim drugged and helpless in my control. You certainly convinced Valredes you were a harmless doe when that sap sent you back to your lover.” She struck, quick as a viper, but I dodged.

“Just Valredes?” I crooned back to her, throwing a strike of my own.

Khattmali blocked and countered.

“When did you sleep?” Khattmali asked, following up her strike with another which I barely parried, “Out all night causing trouble, then a king to please, and then making appearances around the palace—though,” she tipped her head, “Is that why we never saw Kegan’s little lover at court? Why you never bothered to politic?” Her dark eyes glinted, “How did you stomach sleeping with him after he ordered all those nymphs—your people—killed?”

Your order. “You’re just jealous,” I replied, trying a quick one-two attack, managing to rip her sleeve.  “Do Regents usually prowl around doing their own dirty work?” I asked, “Or are you in trouble for failing to control the King?”

“I was first of the Huntsmen and awarded my assignment here; It was a privilege to manage the wayward oaf of Dalyn, to rule in his place,” she moved closer again, “I would have seduced him eventually, but you interfered, and my Queen was done waiting. I was done waiting.”

My gut tightened at her inference that it was my fault they’d resorted to killing Tarr Kegan. “You’ll pay for what you did to him,” my voice was low as I again saw the light wink out of Tarr’s eyes.

“Unlikely,” Khattmali shrugged, her lips turning up at anger in my face. And then she struck so quickly I didn’t dodge fast enough. Her blade bit into my arm as I tripped over the fallen Huntsman. I pushed off the wall and ducked to strike low. Khattmali dodged easily and slashed back. She taunted, “How did it feel to watch your king die?”

It felt like hell, thanks for asking. Snarling I caught her knife with Azzad and slipped Shiharr though her defenses to leave a bleeding tear across her right arm. I would finish this. Blood trickled down from the gash above my bracers, I ignored it.

She spared her arm a glance and advanced on me again. A cruel sneer curled her lips, “You cared for him.”

We met in storm of blows, steel ringing with every strike until I feinted high with my knives and aimed a kick at her knee. Khattmali cried out as her knee cracked and buckled under the blow. Her guard waivered and I struck again, landing a hit on her good leg before realizing the trap. Her bared teeth were the only warning before her knife slammed into my chest, the force of the blow knocking my breath from me.

I stumbled back, stunned, and gasping down at the knife sticking out of my breastplate.

Khattmali watched me reel, then she straightened and took a step toward me on her smashed knee.

Holy Heaven. That shouldn’t be possible. I gaped, struggling for air like a fish on land.

Our eyes met, she said, “You won’t die. Yet. I have so many questions for you, we’ll spend a lot of time together these coming weeks.”

Shiharr and Azzad slipped from my fingers and I grasped the hilt of the knife in my chest. Gritting my teeth, I tried to yank it out but Khattmali launched herself at me, slamming my body against the wall. I couldn’t help the strangled cry as we both toppled to the floor with Khattmali on top. The knife in my chest was slammed aside by her weight. Instinctively, I wrapped my legs and arms around her before she could pull back and stab me again. I would not be staked to the floor until her minions came to help her. I would die here or not at all. Lessons from Quill in the squat little house in the garden came flooding back as Khattmali struggled to escape my grasp. I didn’t feel pain as I trapped one of her arms with both hands and shifted my legs, using her attempts to pull back to shift until I was controlling her shoulders and head in a vice. A vice that closed slowly, crushing Khattmali’s neck against her own shoulder until she stopped trying to free her hand and clawed at my legs trying to free her head. I laid both my hands on her hair and pulled down. Her fingers on her free hand fumbled with the knives strapped to my thighs. I let her.

I breathed slowly, surprised at the calm pulsing through my veins as I focused every last ounce of energy into holding her in place. Moments passed, her struggling subsided and her body sagged, but I kept holding. I needed to be sure.  Breathing hurt. My chest hurt. My energy began to fizzle out like kindling on wet wood. I wanted to sleep. I didn’t dare let go in case Khattmali was pretending. Or in case she wake up when I let go. I would not let go. I would hold until the world faded for me, too.

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95-Fox and Hunter

 

I stepped into the passage and Ayglos closed the door behind us. I could still feel that nightmarish presence despite the utter lack of blood or ash in sight.  Extreme fatigue from the night’s events must be messing with my senses. I was so afraid of running into the Queen in the palace that I was imaging her—or her demon—everywhere. I reached to scratch Hew’s head as he paced beside me. There was nothing here; Hew would be howling if there was. We had no reason to think anyone was in these passages and we hadn’t seen a soul since leaving the guards at the room. My heart was just starting to calm when a woman shrieked, “Look out!” and Ayglos stumbled hard.

I whirled, catching a glimmer of gold out of the corner of my eye.

Ayglos leaned against the wall, grasping at his left shoulder. He looked back and cursed so colorfully I blinked. We weren’t far from the alcove yet and could see figures in the now open entryway behind us. The crawling sensation of being stalked by your worst thoughts grew stronger as the figures entered the passage and merged with the darkness to block out the alcove doorway.

These must be the Huntsmen.

“Run!” hissed Ayglos, pulling away from the wall and starting toward me, “Run!” he said again, loud enough for the others to hear. We obeyed.

I could see Hesperide just ahead of us with the lantern, Trinh and Rakov on her heels, arms full of small lives. They were running, but it was a labored pace set by a pregnant woman whose lantern swung with the force of her efforts. It was a bad dream in which we fled swiftly but covered no ground. I could feel the Huntsmen gaining on us, but slowly. As if they weren’t putting a lot of effort into their own pace. They were not worried about losing us. And why should they be? They could see the lantern as well as I could. I scrunched up my eyes. Eloi. We would not be caught. We would escape. It would not end this way. Eloi wouldn’t allow that, would he?

I heard a clatter behind me.

“Damn it,” said Ayglos.

I looked back to see him twisting to look at his left shoulder, there was a small hilt protruding from his bicep. He caught my look, “Second throw missed,” he jerked his chin at the wound, “This was the first throw.”

“They’ll pick us off like geese,” I said, falling back and yanking the knife out of Ayglos’s bicep. He yelped and cursed again.

It was a tiny, savage, throwing knife. I tried not to look at the blood slicking the tip.

“Lose the lantern,” said Ayglos through gritted teeth.

I nodded, picking up pace to pass the word up the line. I didn’t look Quill in the eye as I did for fear he’d see the plan growing in my mind and argue. But I did give Naran an assuring pat as I pressed Hew’s leash into his little hand. A few moments later, the lantern rose above our heads and stopped. Illuminating a little junction with a passage was twice as wide as the one we’d traveled down. Hesperide and the others disappeared into the darkness beyond.

Without needing to consult, Ayglos and I stopped just past the circle of light. I unclasped my cloak and let it fall to the ground, it would only be in the way for this. Ayglos did the same, drawing his fighting knives.

I waited, holding the bloodied throwing knife at the ready.

The seconds stretched into eternities as we listened to the sounds of our party retreating. My skin crawled as I felt, more than I heard, the faint footsteps of our pursuers. They slowed to stop well short of the glow of the stationary lantern.

One of them laughed. A low, cold sound. “We can sense you, Fox,” said one. “Are you treed at last?”

“Did you steal eggs from the henhouse?” asked another.

“I’ve been wanting to meet you,” breathed Ayglos, his voice soft, resonant, and unmistakably deadly in the darkness. “Come closer.”

Laughter replied. “It speaks!”

They edged forward.

It was game. Which of us would enter the light first.

“We want the children back,” said the first voice.

“That’s a pity,” replied Ayglos. “I’d wanted us to be friends.” He was projecting his voice, he sounded closer to the light. When had he learned to do that? Had he spent time with the singers in the circus that I hadn’t known about?

I felt them. So close now…their presence was oppressive. I felt them so clearly that I could see them. Three men, if they were still men, stalked closer in a v formation. Two carried short swords that leeched blackness, and I saw crossbows slung on their backs. The third, the leader, carried his crossbow at the ready, waiting to shoot us down if we made the first move. Lightning coursed through me, driving away the creeping terror of the Huntsmen. Without hesitation, I hurled the throwing knife at the leader. The knife struck his neck, and the Huntsmen hissed in surprise. The leader released the crossbow and lifted his hand to his neck, gagging.

I reached back for Shiharr and Azzad, a snarl on my lips as the other two charged, spitting with fury.  Ayglos and I leapt to meet them. They wore leather breastplates and vambraces, but their attire was made more for speed and silence than combat. Getting around it would be easier than fighting the armored guards on the walls had been. Or would be, if they weren’t also superior fighters to the guards on the wall. If the space wasn’t so cramped.

Armor, blades, walls…dive, parry, strike, block. Repeat. We hissed and grunted, snarling like cats, but none of us cried out.

Ayglos wasn’t using his left arm well, otherwise I thought his fight might be over already. We dodged and bounced off walls, hurling blows. I could feel myself growing angry. These creatures hunted my family. Hunted my friends. I would not let them hunt any longer. I fell back a step, as if dazed, baiting my foe. The Huntsman saw the opening and lunged, bringing his sword down toward my head. I was ready, slamming my forearm recklessly under the hilt of his sword as I ducked forward, my other hand bringing Azzad up under his breastplate.

He slammed my back against the wall, his momentum driving the dagger deep inside him as the tip his own blade wedged with alarming force into the wood above my head. He didn’t move to pull it out, just froze there. I straightened slowly until we stood face to face. His pain had drained the cruelty from his face for a moment…but then his eyes focused on my face. “You…the ghost of Nelia…” His breathing became labored even as his face turned ugly, “No ghost at all. Just a girl.”

I withdrew Azzad, the curving blade covered in blood.

“Just a girl,” he said again, sagging.

“And you’re just a man,” I replied, stepping away.

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94-Shadow

“Eloi,” muttered Trinh.

I just stared back at the children who were staring mutely at us. Dark cloaked strangers carrying weapons filled the doorway and they did not move or cry out. Naran was the eldest at six years, the others were clearly younger, two were only just toddlers. I wondered if they could see the blood staining our gear or knew the violence that had swept through the palace. Poor things.

Hess peeled back from Quill, and wiped her eyes, “What are you doing here?” Then, noticing his blood-spattered clothes and weapons, “How did you get in?”

“We’re here to rescue you,” replied Quill.

“Did Tarr send you? They told me he…” she trailed off. Quill said nothing, but his face must have conveyed the truth. Hess bowed her head, her grip tightening on Quill’s biceps till her knuckles turned white.

Quill squeezed her shoulders, “He was brave.”

“He died thinking of you and Naran,” I offered quietly from the doorway.

Hess’s eyes flicked to the door, noticing Trinh and me for the first time. “You’re alive, too,” she managed a weak smile, her eyes bright with tears. “He would be glad.”

“Did they hurt you?” asked Quill.

Hess shook her head. “No,” her lips gave a bitter twist and she laid a hand on her belly, “Too valuable. But these poor babies would be here alone if it weren’t for this child.”

Trinh took a step forward, “We have to go now.”

One of the children on the bed whimpered. Hess looked over and quickly went to them, reaching assuring hands to caress each, “It’s alright, little ones, these are friends.”

“I want momma,” sniffled one child, a little girl with wispy blonde hair.

“No, baby, I’m sorry.” Hess reached out and pulled the little girl close. “I can’t bring you to momma.”  She raised her eyes to Trinh, “I can’t leave them to her.”

Trinh hesitated, then he walked to the bed and sat on the edge. He opened his arms invitingly, addressing the little girl with a tenderness I found surprising from the taciturn prince, “You’re alright, I’ll keep you safe.”

The child looked into his eyes, and then, ignoring the blood on his clothing, reached for him. Trinh picked her up and snuggled her close. He looked at Hess, “There are five of us: We’ll carry them all out.”

One of the other children crawled toward Trinh, reaching to be picked up too. I turned to the closet as Trinh shifted the girl to one arm and scooped up the other child. These babies were not dressed for the cold outside, and if we got out of the palace they were in for a long night and a long cold day. After that, if we were still alive, who knew how far we’d go before sleeping indoors. The closet was about the size of Bel’s, and about as well stocked. Probably belonged to one of Khattmali’s entourage. I managed to find one fur lined cloak and three fine winter weight dresses. When I emerged, Rakov had joined the group in the bedroom. Hesperide had wrapped two of the children in the blanket from the bed, and these were in Rakov’s arms. There had been another blanket on the couch, and this was now wrapped around the children Trinh carried.

“Where is the nearest entrance to the servant’s passages?” asked Trinh as Hess finished tucking the blanket around his charges.

“The Ambassador’s rooms,” replied Hess, “But the next is in an alcove down the hall.”

I extended the fur cloak to Hess, who caught my hand and squeezed it before taking the cloak. I met her eye only briefly, not knowing what to say on this terrible night of terrible things.

“We’ll go there, then,” said Trinh. “Get out of sight as quickly as we can.”

Turning away, I moved where Quill was crouched by Naran. The little boy had one arm around Hew and was listening seriously to whatever Quill was telling him. Naran smiled when he saw me, “Miss Meredithe,” his voice was watery from crying.

“Call me Zare,” I replied, kneeling to wrap the dresses around him. I used their sleeves to tie them around his waist and crisscrossing his chest. Hopefully they would keep him reasonably warm.

“Zare,” Naran tried the name on his tongue. “That’s a funny name.”

I smiled. “No funnier than yours.”

“My name isn’t funny.”

“Exactly,” I patted the bulky knots. It would do.

“Ready, Naran?” asked Quill.

The boy nodded, and Quill picked him up. I collected Hew’s leash and got to my feet. With a glance at the others I led the way out of the room. The door to the hallway was cracked open, letting a thin beam of light slice the room. I could see Ayglos’s shadow shift as we approached, and the door pushed open slowly.

“Are you ready?” asked my brother, without turning to look at us.

“We are,” I replied, pulling the door open just a little further.

“Come quickly, then.”

“Turn right,” said Hess from behind me.

I strode out with Hew, my fingertips brushing the knives on my thigh for comfort. The others followed, Trinh, Hess, Rakov and then Quill. I could imagine the double take as my brother noticed the number of children. Other than Hew’s panting and the occasional sniffle, we were surprisingly quiet. It felt as though we were all holding our breath, and we certainly weren’t moving as quickly as on our trip in. We passed the hallway we’d taken to get here, continuing straight for an excruciating time before Hess whispered, “See those alcoves ahead? Just before that junction? We want alcove on the right.”

I nodded and angled for it. My steps slowed as we got closer to the junction, my skin starting to crawl. It took a second to place the feeling, but it was the same I had felt in the Queen’s rooms when Quill and I had found the remnants of that evil rite. Lightning crackled through me. I scanned the halls, looking for any sign, expecting to see ash, blood, and black feathers. There was nothing. I couldn’t hear anything over Hew’s breathing and my own heartbeat. Gingerly, I approached the alcove and peered inside. It was empty. A couple chairs and a table framed a tapestry. Hess touched my elbow and I jumped, “Behind the tapestry,” she offered, kindly not commenting on my spook.

I stepped into the alcove, every breath expecting something to jump out. I drew a knife before approaching the tapestry and lifting it aside. The passageway was dark. I hooked the tapestry over a knob in the wall and stepped in enough to look for a lamp. There was one, just inside, hanging on a hook just within my reach. Lifting it down, I lit it with a match stored in the base.

The lamp cast yellow light on the wooden walls of the passage, showing it was empty and devoid of dark rituals. Comforted, I handed the lamp to Hess. “Do you know the way?” I asked.

“Yes,” she looked at Trinh, he nodded. Hess took the lead, the men filing in behind her, each heavy laden with wide eyed and silent children.

*

Special thanks to my Patrons! I am so grateful for your support!

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93-Doors

Behind us, I heard Trinh suck in a breath through his teeth, then command Hew in that language only he and the hound knew.  Hew hesitated, then skidded to a stop, looking pathetically over his shoulder at Trinh.

“We’re near the ambassador’s chambers,” explained Trinh quietly, catching up with Ayglos and me.

“Do you think they’re in her chambers?” I asked.

Trinh gave me a look, “Would you wish a frightened child in your rooms? No. But I imagine they are close.”

“We’ll have to check each room individually—”

“—dealing with whatever we find there—” cut in Ayglos.

“–or use Hew,” I finished.

Trinh looked down at the hound, who was looking down the hallway as if staring could transport him. “We can’t have him baying and bringing the whole army to investigate,” said Trinh “We check the rooms.”

Without a word, we split to different sides of the hallway. Trinh and Rakov slunk along one side, Quill and Ayglos along the other. I walked a little ahead, keeping a tight hold on Hew. The gentle swish of our cloaks mingled with Hew’s panting and the click of Hew’s nails.

The hound glanced from Trinh to me to the hallway over and over again as we walked. I got the impression that the hound’s distress wasn’t about the hunt any longer, it was about Naran being close by. I considered letting him off the leash to find Naran on his own, but a vision of him spitted by soldiers stopped me. The first door we came to was locked. Quill started pulling out lockpicking tools and I kept walking with Hew. As we neared the end of the hallway I slowed, listening. Hew whined. I put my hand on his head and found wet nose instead. There were voices coming from the right. I leaned against the wall, as if that would help me listen.

“…heard a dog…”

“…You’re a…”

“…not…”

“…doesn’t matter.”

I edged forward trying to get an eye around the corner. There were four guards standing in front of a door at the end of the hallway. I pulled back and looked over my shoulder, beckoning to the men. Ayglos was the first to join me. Then, with a glance back at the others, he stepped around the corner and strode toward the guards.

I peered after him, aware of the others approaching as quietly as they could.

The guards straightened, watching Ayglos’s approach with interest. “What is it?” asked one.

“Have you seen or heard anything unusual?” asked Ayglos when he was just steps away.

“I heard a dog,” replied one.

“He thinks he heard a dog,” said another.

Ayglos’s fist cracked across the jaw of the first guard and he dropped. I ran forward, but before Hew and I could reach the conflict it was over. Ayglos was even better than I remembered. He clearly had not been sitting on his hands these months. Ayglos stooped over the bodies and looked back at me, “Look for keys.”

By the time Quill, Trinh, and Rakov arrived I was handing Ayglos a key pulled from a dead man’s pocket. We all stood poised for action as Ayglos turned the key and gently eased open the door. The room beyond was dark. Hew whined when we didn’t go in immediately. I looked at him, then I took a few steps out of the torchlit hallway and into the dark of the room. Hew followed eagerly. To our left, the only light came from an orange glow seeping under the bottom of a door. Quill and Trinh moved in flanking us. We stood for a moment, listening.

When we heard nothing over Hew’s panting, Trinh spoke, “Find a lamp.”

There was carpet under my boots, and it swallowed my and Hew’s footfalls as we proceeded into the room using the light from the door. A lamp sprang to life to the right, casting a warm light around the room that grew in strength as Quill turned it up. This was a sitting room, well furnished with plush furniture. The fireplace to the right was cold, and there was no one else in the room.

Rakov and Ayglos dragged the bodies inside while Quill and Trinh silently walked through the room checking for anyone or anything dangerous. Hew was interested in the other door but I held him back.

Once the four guards were inside, Ayglos stepped out, mostly closing the door behind him.

Trinh and Quill approached the door with the light behind it. I joined them, gathering Hew’s leash in my left hand and drawing a knife from my thigh with my right. After a grim exchange of looks, Trinh turned the knob and gave the door a push. It swung open slowly, revealing a fourposter bed and a fireplace with a healthy fire.

“Who’s there?” a woman’s voice demanded.

Quill exhaled, “Hess!” and sheathing his blades he rushed into the room.

“Quill!” Hesperide rose from a chair by the fireplace and Quill engulfed her in an embrace. Her dark hair was a loose tumble as she buried her face in Quill’s shoulder. Quill curled around her, as if he could shield her from everything that had happened this night. A rock strangled my throat. I felt like an intruder as I stood in the door. I wondered if Trinh felt the same way, because he didn’t move to enter either. I dropped Hew’s leash and the hound bounded to the bed. He stood on his hind legs and thrust his nose into the face of the redheaded child sleeping on the pillows.

Naran sat up with a cry and threw his arms around Hew’s neck.

I started when the bedcovers began to move, rising and falling like the coils of a sea serpent. Then, other heads popped up from the pillows, faces white with fear, eyes red from tears. There were more children here. The rock sank from my throat to my stomach as I looked at five little faces. The children Tarr supported. The Nether Queen was taking all of them.

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Mourning

I sketched this scene out with watercolors the other week, it’s such poignant moment for Zare. The first real loss you see her face beyond doubt. Her city, the old life, even the other people in her life she’s lost or left behind were all “off screen.” Most, also, were almost a year behind her at the start of our story.

Zare and T.jpg
An icy vigil.
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92-Into Danger

 

The next part was my idea. Trinh’s tunnel connected us to the warren of narrow passages the guard and the servants used to move about the palace, and there we divided. Rakov and Trinh went ahead to scout Naran and Hess’s quarters while the rest of us went to get Hew, Naran’s favorite hound, from the kennels. The palace was unnaturally quiet, as if all the inhabitants had disappeared into thin air. They had probably all done their very best to do just that rather than risk becoming a target of the Queen’s wrath. We didn’t pass close to anyone until we were entering the servant’s quarters with Hew in tow. A few men in servant’s gray, who had clearly been on their way somewhere, stopped moving when they saw Ayglos—who was walking in front wearing the black uniform of the Queen’s guard. They shrank against the wall, eyes averted, until we passed by in a swirl of dark cloaks and silence.

When we reached Hesperides’ door, Quill pushed it open without knocking. Rakov and Trinh were waiting inside, weapons drawn.

Putting away his sword, Trinh stepped forward and crouched in front of Hew. The hound, being only half bloodhound, was enormous and stood nose to nose with the crouching King. In the weeks I’d known Hew he’d already started to fit his long limbs far better than he had when we’d met. He’d come with me eagerly when I’d woken half the kennel to get him. Though I’d never taken him anywhere he followed with the trustful enthusiasm which made dogs so disarming. Sensing our urgency, he hadn’t made a sound for the entire trip, and had stayed so close to me that the leash seemed entirely unnecessary. It would be different once he was hunting.

Trinh held a bit of cloth out to the hound and Hew reached for it eagerly. My heart seized as I realized that it was a shirt. Was Naran really so small?

Trinh said something in a language I didn’t recognize but Hew did. The hound immediately dropped his nose to the ground and headed out the door. I had to trot to keep up and could hear the others fall in behind us.

Hew’s nails clicked on the polished wood floors, and I was grateful he didn’t bay as he darted down the hallways with unwavering fervor. We quickly left the servants quarters and entered the main palace, passing anti-chambers and ministerial rooms until we came face to face with a wall of black clad guards.

Hew would have plowed through the wall without stopping, but I checked him. Without missing a beat Ayglos strode past me and snarled at the guards, “Let us through, the hound is on a scent.”

“Who are you?” demanded one of the guards.

“We are the Queen’s Huntsmen,” replied Ayglos, stepping closer to the line of guards. “We are hunting an intruder.”

“No one is to be admitted to this wing by order of the Queen,” replied the guard.

“Fools, someone is already inside.”

“We have heard nothing.”

“Unsurprising,” snorted Ayglos.

The guard bristled.

We didn’t have time for this. In two strides I was holding a knife against the guard’s throat and stillness fell over the others. “Don’t risk the wrath of the Queen,” I purred.

He glared at me. “You Huntsmen,” he spat, “So high and mighty. You think you’re the only ones worthy to serve the Queen.”

So, there were Huntsmen. I thought Ayglos had been making things up.

The man continued, “No one has entered this wing, and even if they had, half the army is behind us. We can protect the Queen just as well as you.”

He wasn’t going to let us through. As tremulous and desperate as this plan was, it was our only plan. If we didn’t get Naran and Hesperide out tonight, there might not be another chance. We were too few, and she had too many and too much. For a single breath I considered the blade against the guard’s skin and thought of the blade in Tarr. My voice was thick as I asked, “Can you protect her from ghosts?” I stepped back and swung my free hand flat against his temple; senseless, he fell back into the other guards.

Startled cries and the sing of weapons filled the hallway. Hew backed up a step, his tail tucked. I dropped the leash to reach for Azzad.

A guard swung his sword at my head and I dodged, my knife sinking into him and my other hand clubbing his temple with Azzad. I was aware of the men tearing into the other guards without a word. The fight was over in moments, and we were five cloaked figures standing over a pile of black uniformed bodies.

“I guess it’s time to adjust the plan,” commented Ayglos, stooping to clean his knives.

“Well, they’ll know something is up,” replied Trinh drily.

“Do we leave them here?” I asked.

“Hide half of them,” said Quill. He opened a nearby door, revealing an empty anti-room.

The bodies were heavy and awkward, but we moved six bodies out of the hallway and scattered the others a little to obscure the streaks on the floor. Some were just unconscious, we tried to make sure these were in the room. Anything to add confusion and delay to any who hunted for us. Perhaps they would think they had traitors among them. It was gruesome work and I was as glad to leave as Hew, though perhaps for different reasons. Trinh offered the hound the shirt again, in case he’d forgotten because of the fight, and Hew barely looked at it before returning to the trail only he could find.

Ayglos kept pace with me, the other three fell in behind us like geese.

“How did you know she has Huntsmen?” I whispered.

My brother glanced at me, “They are why I was late getting back. They sensed me one night when I got close to the Queen’s camp. I spent the rest of the trip trying to stay ahead of them without running into the armies or patrols.”

“Sensed?”

“They never used hounds—at least that I saw—but they always seemed to find me. Or, to get close,” replied Ayglos, keeping his voice low. “I gathered from listening in at campfires that they are called Huntsmen, but not for hunting game. They hunt people, mostly. Special order of the Queen, and some serve as her personal guard. They are disliked and feared by the army.”

I frowned. “They sound more like…assassins?” Hew charged brazenly around a corner. When an empty hallway opened before us I asked, “How did you elude them?”

“I…” Ayglos hesitated, “…don’t…know…”

“You don’t know?” I was incredulous.

“There is a lot going on here that doesn’t make sense,” added Ayglos hurriedly, as if getting words out before he could change his mind, “I am good at remaining unseen and leaving no trail, but they would find me anyway—it was either the worst luck or magic because they nearly caught me dozens of times but…” he swallowed, “an apparition of a woman with golden-hair always warned me. I know it sounds crazy, but she stayed with me that whole scouting trip. I couldn’t always see her, but I know she was there and she saved my life on several occasions.”

My steps faltered. “You—” I stammered, “You saw her?”

Ayglos shot me a startled look: As if that had very much not been the response he’d expected. “You saw her?” he demanded.

“No,” I shook my head, “Not exactly…She slapped me—and she yelled at me—to wake me up when I was drugged—did you hear about that?”

“You were drugged?” asked Ayglos, then he shook his head, dismissing his own question. “We’ve hardly been in close conference these months. But I am comforted that I’m not alone in encountering her.”

“Assuming it’s the same spirit,” I replied. My mind was sprinting from one thought to the next, barely holding an idea long enough to draw conclusions I was so excited. Golden hair, though, ruled out Nelia. “Did you talk to her?”

Hew bayed, causing both of us to jump in a manner quite unbefitting our rank and costume. The hound lunged eagerly against the leash. We must be getting close.

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