Tag: fantasy adventure

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39-Behind the Hedge

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

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

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

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

“Regent?” I asked. “Not the queen?”

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

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

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

“We figured they would have,” I agreed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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38-Reunion

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

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

“Well met!” cried Quill.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m here, Little Zare.”

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

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

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

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

“Those bastards,” I spat.

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

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

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

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

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

“Quilleran Rydderick,” said my father.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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37-Ride in the Dark

 

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

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

I nodded. “Thanks to Quill.”

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

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

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

“We should go,” said Quill.

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

Both men looked grim.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jemin stood waiting for us.

“Anything?” asked Quill.

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

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

They nodded.

“Lovely.”

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

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36-Capture

I shouldn’t have been looking over my shoulder; I should have been running. Those two horsemen had overcome our little roadblock faster than they were supposed to. My foot caught on a stone and I stumbled. Thinking a few choice words, I staggered and dove toward the side of the road. I just had to stay out of reach long enough to get to the river. I smashed blindly into the underbrush. The light from the soldiers’ lamps didn’t penetrate far into the woods, but I couldn’t wait for my eyes to adjust. I ran with my arms outstretched, hoping I wouldn’t hit a tree. “Don’t trip, don’t trip,” I panted to myself right before I rammed straight into a bush. I flailed to the side, trying to get around as the horsemen closed in noisily. As I struggled clear I could see more of the forest—but that was because the horsemen behind me carried lanterns. The golden light flashed on the trees and made me think of the long thin teeth of an angler fish closing on its prey.

A heavy weight hit me from behind and I pitched to the ground with a cry. Caught like a little fish. Hands grabbed my arms, pulling them roughly behind me while a knee crushed my torso into the earth. I struggled vainly as the soldier twisted rope around my wrists. I could barely breathe under his weight. Horrible thoughts chased themselves through my head; I thought of the fate of the circus girls, and then of the irony of my capture on a mission to free my family. There was no way they could engineer another rescue before Dalyn. I wondered if I would die, or worse, if I would live in captivity enduring who knows what horrors.

“Do you have her?” The other soldier was mounted still.

“I’ve got her,” grunted my captor as he finished tying. “Get up!” he commanded, lifting his weight off me and picking up the lantern he’d dropped in his efforts.

I pulled my knees up under me and rolled to a sitting position. Spitting dirt out of my mouth, I tossed my head and looked up at them defiantly.

Both soldiers stopped in surprise and stared at me for a moment. Then the mounted soldier said, “She must be related.”

My captor sent him a quick look then turned back to me and growled, “All the way up.”

Related? I stood, shaking the leaves and dirt off as I did. Had they spent a great deal of time looking at my sister, then? Anger stirred in me and quickly overwhelmed my fear. I flinched for my daggers, but they were out of reach.

“Who are you?” demanded my captor.

“I am Zare Caspian of Galhara, your last prisoner,” I snapped.

The mounted soldier whistled. “How many more of them are there?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I replied, “We are ghosts who walk the night carrying retribution for our city and doom for the Nether Queen. You cannot contain the Galhari. You cannot stop us.” What was I saying? Another time, I would have been frightened by the fire inside me, by the violence radiating from my soul. But I didn’t have time for that. It was all I could do to keep from flinging myself at the soldiers in some ill-conceived and useless manner.

My captor snorted and jerked me close. He pushed his face close to mine. I lifted my chin and met his gaze.

“You are a just a girl without land or title. Very much flesh and blood,” he whispered the last words with a leer and then pushed me away, turning to mount his horse.

Seething, and impotent, I watched the soldier tie my rope to his saddle. I must not remain their prisoner.

The soldier remounted and turned his horse back toward the road. “Now, walk,” he ordered.

Both soldiers nudged their horses forward and I walked as ordered. No point in getting dragged or trampled. I wished fervently that I had knives hidden in other places—a wrist sheath perhaps—so I would have had options. The soldier yanked on the rope and I stumbled, nearly falling into a bush. I shot a glare over my shoulder at him. He smiled wickedly.

There was crackling in the underbrush like a couple more horsemen were coming our way. Probably sent to aid their comrades. Not that they needed it. I snarled inwardly and tried to think of something, anything, I could do to get out of this mess.

Just then a draft horse burst into the circle of lamplight and slammed straight into the soldiers’ mounts. I gasped as I recognized Sinker, with Jemin on his back, sword in hand.

I was yanked forward as the horses churned—but not before I caught a glimpse of Hook and Quill barreling in. Swords flashed as Quill and Jemin engaged the soldiers. The horses pranced and turned while I ran and dodged to keep up. If the soldier’s horse bolted I was going to die gruesomely at the base of a tree. The thought moved me to action. I flopped on my rear and tucked my hands under my legs to move my bound hands in front; then I jumped sloppily to my feet. Darting between horses and blows I reached the side of the soldier who had the other end of my rope. He saw me a moment too late. I caught his elbow and pulled savagely, throwing my body weight to the ground. He twisted out of the saddle with a yelp of pain. His horse shied as he fell and then it bolted forward. I had no chance to react as the horse hit the end of the rope and kept running, wrenching me off the soldier and dragging me after it. I tumbled on the end of the rope like a fishing lure in the wind. I was vaguely aware of Quill shouting after me as bracken flew in my face and I bumped along pondering the irony of the situation. I supposed dying from the very bolt I was trying to avoid was a little better than dying in the prison I’d rescued my family from.

Then I slid to a stop and was lying face first on the dark forest floor. This was it, then. I hadn’t noticed hitting a tree so it must’ve been quite a thorough bashing. So far death wasn’t too bad. I wondered if the stories were true about a tunnel with the light of Eloi at the end.

“Zare!” Quill’s voice was right above me, and a second later I felt his hands on my shoulders and back. “Zare, are you alright?” his voice was thick with concern.

At his touch, I startled and opened my eyes. I could see the faint outlines of vegetation in the darkness. I realized my hands were stretched out before me, still, and there was no tree. I wasn’t dead. I pulled my arms in carefully, they ached but weren’t broken.

“Are you alright?” asked Quill again, gently supporting my shoulders as I pushed myself up and turned slowly to a sitting position.

“I think so,” I said. The shakiness of my voice surprised me.

He whipped out a small knife and started cutting the rope off my wrists. “Is anything broken? Can you stand up?”

I took inventory while he worked. Fingers and toes responded on command, I didn’t appear to have any gaping holes anywhere. As soon my wrists were free I touched them and winced. Rope burn. “I’m ok. I think I can stand,” I said.

In the dark, I couldn’t see his face, but I sensed the relief flow out of him and for some reason I wanted to cry because of it.  “Come on, we need to keep moving.” Quill stood and reached down to help me to my feet.

The world spun as I rose and I leaned heavily into him. Quill hooked one arm around my waist and I dropped my head on his shoulder, struggling to regain control while he fussed with the horses. Horses. I picked up my head. I could make out the soldier’s mount standing docilely next to Hook.

“You stopped the horse,” I said stupidly.

“It was absconding with my princess,” replied Quill. “I couldn’t allow that.”

He’d saved my life. I was seized with a wild desire to kiss him. But I didn’t. He shifted me around to Hook’s side and boosted me into the saddle with such care I could been snuggling into bed.

“Now we go help Jemin,” he said, mounting the other horse and turning back the way we’d come.

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35-At the Cymerie

As the sun drew closer to the horizon we saddled Hook and Sinker with old tack from Ironsides’ storage shed then, Namal and Ayglos mounted and set out at a swift pace. I traveled behind, on foot with Quill and his men, cutting through the orchards at a quick jog. I was pleased that all the foot travel over the past week had made this pace quite reasonable. Our packs were freshly loaded with food but I had traded Quill the heavy crossbow from Gillenwater for his bow, and we were both happier for it. We were heading cross country to hit the main road where it crossed the Cymerie, an angry little tributary of the Bandui River. Quill had sent two men to track the progress of the prisoner transport and to slow them down if necessary so we could reach the Cymerie and prepare for them. I had never met the Cymerie, but knew it was smaller river, swift and scored with rapids and gorges. The Cymerie wasn’t the wide and deep trade conduit that the Bandui River was. In fact, it was mostly in the way. Which was perfect for us. Ayglos and Namal would reach her before we did, and were tasked with securing the river’s help.

As we jogged, my mind turned back to the morning’s counsels. There were thirty men escorting the barred carriage, which made any attempt at open battle on the road foolish. Neither could we wait for help inside Dalyn.

“The city is not ours yet,” Quill had explained, “The Nether Queen has many agents in the king’s court, and her ambassador is formidable. I cannot speak for my King to promise you a rescue within its walls. Such an event might destroy the rebellion before it has really commenced.”

So we had to be clever.

I grimaced and focused on keeping my footing in the less cultivated terrain. I hoped we were clever enough. Those of us on foot made good time cutting over the gentle land and I caught scent of the turbulent Cymerie long before we heard its roar. It was dark when the trees stopped and the silhouette of an arching stone bridge stood against the sky. Quill’s men scouted the area quickly and returned with Ayglos and Namal to announce that the road was clear in both directions and the Cymerie was, if not delighted to help, willing enough.  We set to work with the yards and yards of thin cloth. At every moment I expected to hear the prisoner caravan on the road, but we finished our preparations without so much as a bat swooping overhead.

I took my place in the center of the road on Dalyn’s side, just far enough that you had to be quite across the bridge before your lantern would show my presence. Wide strips of the thin white cloth crisscrossed the road like the masterpiece of an ambitious spider. Perhaps several ambitious spiders. I stood in the midst of the cloth web, a swath wrapped around my shoulders and head like a hooded cape. My mind was oddly quiet as I waited, listening to the river and the sounds of the night.

I could not be sure how long it was before I heard horses and the jangling of harnesses. Then the lanterns carried by the caravan swung into view, moving at a good pace. As reported, there were mounted men riding ahead, and behind the barred carriage. The first of the horsemen reached the bridge and the clatter of hooves on stone sounded deafening to me after the stillness of waiting. The din only got louder as the carriage hit the rocks. The lead horsemen reached my side of the bridge and pulled up sharply when the light of their lanterns glanced off the gauzy web across the road. Their cries of “Halt!” traveled back over the vanguard and the whole company came to an abrupt stop.

The horses skittered about unhappily as the leaders dismounted and approached the web with their swords drawn and their lanterns held aloft. Before they got too close, I took a step. They startled, seeing me for the first time, “Who goes there?” they demanded.

I took another drifting step, “Have you seen him?” I asked mournfully.

“What?” asked the man on the right.

“Have you seen him?” I asked again, “He rode to the underworld, and I seek him.”

I felt the shudder of uncertainty rush through them, and then be replaced by impatient anger. “What are you talking about, woman? Clear the road, we are on the Queen’s business.”

I turned to face them and raise my arms. “The Queen of the Underworld?” I demand. “You took him! You slaves of darkness!” On cue, two crossbow quarrels flew through the air and the men dropped to the ground, their lanterns spun to the ground, casting bizarre shadows as they went. The other men in the column had been watching and they cried out, spurring their horses forward. I dashed forward for the lanterns. They were the same orbs dangling from polls that the patrols in Gillenwater used. I leapt back into the web as the first line of horsemen bore down. I needed to lure more away from the carriage.

“Can you tell me where to find Maten?” I bark at the soldiers, hoping they knew their legends like Quill did. “Speak now and I may spare your lives!”

They couldn’t reach me in the web, not mounted. Swords drawn, three men jumped down as others rode up. I raised the lanterns, illuminating our little circle of road for my bowmen. “I gave you a chance.”

The quarrels flew, but the third man ducked into the web and charged at me. I swung the lanterns, deflecting his sword. He came again and I dodged backwards, bouncing off a swath of cloth right before he sliced through it. How long did it take to reload a crossbow? “Know the wrath of Nelia!” I cried and he dropped to the ground with a gasp of surprise. Not long.

More horsemen were gathering and dismounting. I couldn’t stay here. Even if I could dodge them, sooner or later one of them would produce a crossbow of his own. I lifted the lanterns again, they were sputtering now after being swung about—I guessed there were eight men coming for me, with five down, that meant only a little over half still close to the carriage. Those were better odds than we started with. Dropping the lanterns, I tossed aside my white trappings and ran.

Risking a glance over my shoulder, I saw chaos on the road. A couple of the soldiers had stopped to see to their comrades, and others were hacking madly at the cloth to clear the way for the carriage. Two of them jumped their horses over the tumbling web and thundered after me.  Behind that, on the bridge, men were climbing over the sides of the bridge from where they’d hidden—dangling off the side like fish at a fish market.  The bulk of Quill’s men, and my brothers, gathered at the carriage. They cut the horses free and while some held back the rearguard—taking advantage of the very narrow space—the rest heaved the carriage over the side of the bridge and into the turbulent Cymerie.

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34-Kindling

 

Balleck had carried his poi—chains with the weighted ends tightly wrapped wicking–with him all the way from the circus caravan. “You never know when you might need a diversion,” he winked, holding the poi while I used the flint from my daggers to light them. He had soaked them in kerosene from a lamp in the day laborers’ hall and the poi sprang to life with a gentle froosh. Most of the circus women, and the girls from Gillenwater, had followed us from the hall to watch.

Picking up the slender chains Balleck spun the weights till the fire looked like golden wheels. The wheels danced, interlaced, twisted and came apart again. I could see the world falling away from him; he seemed to forget about me as he moved with the fire, bending and turning and leaping like a flame himself. The rest of the circus people trickled out of the hall.  Olena came to stand beside me, I put an arm around her shoulders. Balleck spun the flames in a fury of motion, between his hands like a potter’s pot, then arching around himself until it looked like he would be consumed.

Balleck ended with a backflip, the fire trailing from his hands stilled and, as if waking from a stupor, he noticed just how large his audience had gotten. He bowed deeply while his colleagues clapped.  Seeing Olena with me, he came over and offered Olena the poi.

Hesitantly, Olena accepted them. With Balleck’s encouragement, she stepped out and gave the poi a test spin. The weights performed. She spun the other poi, then took another step or two and sunk into a deep lunge. Now the poi swept up in an arc and the red haired Olena followed them into a leap. The other circus women gave hoots of delight as Olena, too, threw herself into the fire dance. All her considerable skill came out as the poi danced at her bidding, as she danced, too. I stole a look at Balleck and noticed tears in his eyes as he watched his cousin. I wondered if he felt as I did—torn by a thousand emotions. Our parting, Olena’s ordeal, and even this bright moment of restoration all threatened to overwhelm. Balleck caught me looking at him—my ears turned red and he reached out and squeezed my hand. I quickly looked away before tears could escape my eyes, too.

Olena finished with her back to us, the poi spinning slower and slower until they stilled. The circus women cheered. I could feel the hope in their cheer—Olena had found herself again, so there was hope for each of them. Olena drew a deep breath and then faced us. She dipped her head shyly, like a child who has been caught singing when she was alone. Balleck walked out to her and folded her into his arms.

The crowd dissolved, some went back into the laborers’ hall, others lingered in clusters outside—a few started stretching. I imagined they were testing themselves, to see if they still were who they remembered.

That would suffice for my fire spinning lesson. Turning to go, I smiled my goodbyes to the few who noticed my departure and hurried off to find my brothers. There were preparations to be made, not the least of which finding something along the lines of armor. Our plan was on the wilder side, but at least this time there was a plan.

I hadn’t gone far down the lane when Jemin fell in step beside me. I looked at him in surprise, “Jemin! Hasn’t Quill got you busy?”

The bearded soldier laughed, “He has, he told me to watch over you.”

“Oh, of course,” I felt silly. Naturally. “Well, it’s good to see you again.”

“Thank you, milady,” replied Jemin, still smiling.

“Do you know where they are?” I asked, gesturing vaguely at the little dirt road and the surrounding fields and trees.

“I have an idea.” Jemin picked up the pace and I followed him at a trot along the dirt path until we came a large barn which had an entire side open to the air. Inside were huge wooden crates, stacked neatly. Also inside were ten of Quill’s men, along with Quill and my brothers. My brothers were outfitted with whatever bits of armor Quill’s men had spare, and were openly wearing their swords. They had one of the crates open and were pulling swaths of gauzy white material out of it.

They greeted me as I approached.

“Ironsides has taken his sons and gone to survey his fields and orchards,” said Namal, “Most of his servants have been given the day off or instructed to teach the circus women some tasks around the grounds so he can explain their presence if he has to.”

“That explains why I haven’t seen hardly anyone around.” I stepped closer to the crate to finger the cloth, though it was so thin it scarcely deserved the word.

“It’s for protecting fruit trees from pests,” explained Quill, sensing my question.

“It’s perfect,” I replied.

“Zare, try these on,” Ayglos tossed me a handful of hard leather.

Catching the bundle, I examined it, finding a pair of bracers, boots, leather breeches, and a leather jerkin that looked as though it had been folded for a very long time and just recently oiled. “Thank you.”

“I think the jerkin belonged to Ironsides when he was a boy,” said Ayglos apologetically. “Do you want to go back to the house to try them on?”

“I can just go around the crates to that corner,” I pointed with my chin. Months of living on the road had done much to change my sensibilities. Ayglos didn’t argue and I ducked around the corner between some crates and began shucking my shoes and trousers. I slipped into the leather breeches with some difficulty. They were newly oiled, but still a touch stiff with age like the jerkin. They fit well enough, and I was grateful to have them. Next were the boots. They were a little too big so I stuffed grass in the toes. The jerkin and bracers I applied over my blue shirt and it took a bit of fussing to get everything arranged properly. The final touch was belting on my daggers again. I twisted and kicked, testing out the motion of my new garb. That would do. I felt a smile. It was not as nice an ensemble as I’d had in Galhara, but it was closer than I’d been in a long while. The leather gear would offer more protection than the cotton, and every little bit helped. Gathering up my trousers and shoes I headed back to join the men.

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I looked for you

This is an art piece I did for my novel–it’s set in the same world as Zare. In fact it’s about Shyr Valla–the first city Narya Magnific conquered, the one Quill says was wiped off the land as if it had never been.

The novel isn’t finished, but Zare is helping. She’s the best.

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33-Balleck

 

For the rest of the morning no one entered or left the great hall at Ironsides’ manor. It wasn’t until well after lunchtime, when we had finished our plotting and Vaudrin went to check the kitchen that even servants entered the room. They came in with Vaudrin, carrying trays of food for lunch. After serving they quickly bustled away—even though by that point we were quite done talking and more interested in eating.

After our late lunch, I went in search of Balleck and Olena.

I found Balleck in one of the barns, hanging by his legs from a stall wall and doing sit ups. Even the dim light of the barn caught the red in his blond hair and skimmed his muscles with an artist’s grace. I approached quietly and had to clear my throat he was so engrossed in his work. Balleck startled, then flipped himself to the ground. “My lady,” he said, dusting himself off.

I hopped up on a couple bales of straw. He came and leaned next to me, waiting for me to say something. “It’s been a wild two weeks,” I offered.

Balleck grimaced. “I’d say so. Zare,” he began, then hesitated. “Lady Zare.”

I grimaced.

He began again, “Our part in this fight is over—such as it was. Gabe and I need to help the girls get back to the circus. We’ve discussed it with Ironsides and our plan is to rest here for a week and then take the southern road to Magadar.”

I drew a deep breath and let it out; what had I expected him to say? “That is sensible.”

He looked at me, “You could come with us. Your brothers and the soldiers can handle things here.”

I had definitely not expected that. I turned to him in surprise, “What do you mean?”

“You’re hunted in this land, come with us to a place we’re regular folk again,” said Balleck earnestly, “It’s dangerous here, Zare.”

“I’m dangerous,” I retorted.

“I know—I’ve heard the girls talk about what you did to save them. But you shouldn’t have had to—we were all close by waiting to go in and rescue them. You didn’t need to take that kind of risk where we couldn’t protect you.” Balleck leaned closer, “It turned out alright—everyone is safe now. But it might not have—we might easily have lost you—I could have lost you.” He picked up my hand and sought my eyes pleadingly, “You should come with me to Magadar, your family will follow.”

I stared at him. His blue eyes were pale with pain and I was too stunned to know what to say. I was suddenly aware that the danger which permeated my life was as familiar to me as the morning dew…and that the circus was already part of my past. I squeezed Balleck’s hand and said gently, “I have to stay.”

Balleck nodded, his face resigned. “I thought you would say that.”

“Do you understand why?” I asked, desperately wishing he did.

“Maybe.” A sad smile spread tipped his mouth and he lifted his free hand to my face, tracing my cheek with his fingers. “I lost you the day everyone was kidnapped.”

At his touch every single fire spinning memory sprang to mind and exploded with fireworks of desire and regret. In another life, I could have been a fire spinner: I could have traveled all over the world performing riding stunts with the circus. Married Balleck and had little wild haired children running around with flaming batons and impeccably trained dancing ponies.

But that was before I fished a mysterious wounded archer out of the Tryber River. Before I found out about a rebellion and found hope to defeat the sorceress.  Before my family was stolen. I dropped my eyes because I couldn’t gaze into Balleck’s soul any longer. He traced my face a moment longer and then let his hand fall, too.

We were quiet, listening to the sound of what wouldn’t be, then Balleck broke the spell, “I had a lovely time dancing with you at the harvest festival. Before…you know…everything fell apart forever.”

I choked out a laugh, “Yes…I enjoyed dancing with you, too. It was a lovely night up until the soldiers came. And even after that it wasn’t so bad since we got out alright.”

Balleck grunted, “It was the beginning of our troubles. Back when I thought you were a former duchess or something.”

“Well,” I scooted off the bale of straw, still holding his hand. “We have a little bit of time before,” I hesitated, “I have to be going again.”

He straightened to follow me, “I won’t ask,” he assured a little tiredly.

“Would you be willing to give one last lesson in fire spinning?” I bit my lip as I looked back at him.

“Of course, my lady,” Balleck bowed, the filtered light catching his smile and pressing it into my memory like a signet ring in wax.

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32- Tears and Breakfast

“It’s a good thing I kept those extra nanny goats last year!” announced Ironsides, setting the pitcher and mugs on the table and beginning to pour. “Otherwise we’d only be sharing thimbles of their milk instead of cups,” he smiled and Quill and I moved over to the table to receive our mugs. “Milda will be in shortly with the rest of breakfast.” Ironsides settled himself on a bench, and we sat across from him sipping our milk.

“It’s good,” I said, just to say something.

“Thank you,” replied Ironsides.

After that no one said anything, just sat drinking goat’s milk and observing the shape of the room. I wanted to ask more about Narya’s sorcery, Quill’s father, the new king, and everything else. But I wasn’t sure I should with Ironsides there. Finally, Milda came in with breakfast—a warm porridge with bacon and quince on the side. Then at least we had the food to discuss, even if it was in short bursts. I felt as if the reality of the Nether Queen’s sorcery was sitting at the table with us—silent, imposing, and superior. Was Ironsides right when he said she was already too strong…and if so, did that matter? To what hope did Quill refer?  These questions took spots on the long benches also, and the room began to feel quite crowded to me. If Nadine were here conversation would have flowed easily in spite of all this. Or so I imagined. I hadn’t had the chance to discover if Nadine’s silver tongue had any effect on Quill’s stubbornness, but Ironsides at least would have talked. The princessly skill of table conversation was invaluable for diplomacy and information gathering—it was a tool I had to consciously pick up to use, whereas it was a part of Nadine. I wondered where my sister was, what she was doing, and if she were alright. Were they treating my family as valuable prisoners, protecting them as they should? Though nothing good could come of their imprisonment.

The porridge caught in my throat as grief from the past two weeks crashed down on me. A little food and sleep and suddenly I had energy to think about my problems again. My stomach turned over and I set down my spoon.

Quill and Ironsides both stopped to look at me. “Are you alright, my lady?” asked Quill.

I nodded. If by “alright” you mean “not choking to death,” then absolutely.

“What’s the matter, child?” asked Ironsides, setting his own spoon down, too.

I managed to meet his eyes. They were blue and kind, and if I looked too long I would cry.  “I’m sorry,” I stood up, “I was thinking of my family—thank you for breakfast!” I nearly ran out of the great room and down the hallway that led out of the house. The air was cool but the morning sun was warm as I picked a direction and kept going out of the front yard. I didn’t go back into the orange grove, but cut right and discovered the barns. Past those, in a rocky paddock full of goats, I found Sinker and Hook browsing happily. I went to them and after a quick greeting, leaned into Hook’s shoulder and cried. The horses continued to clip grass, though Hook occasionally reached back to nose me while I sobbed about everything that had happened in the past year. My tears so rarely come there is a backlog of things to cry over. I thought of everything from my favorite gown that burned with the palace, to embarrassing flubs at the circus, to the certain doom of my sister and parents. Not even the circus master’s broken boxes went unmourned. Finally, when my soul had run out of even the silliest memory to cry over, the tears stopped and I pulled away from Hook.

The black turned his head to nudge me, I patted him. “I should probably go get cleaned up,” I told him. He flicked an ear and nibbled my cuff. “Aww, thanks, I’m glad you don’t mind my face.” I sniffed and turned to go back to the house. I hoped I could sneak in—but there was no chance of that. Ayglos was leaning on the fence, waiting for me.

I walked toward him, embarrassed.

“You OK?” asked Ayglos as I slipped through the fence.

“Yes,” I let him pull me in for a hug, “I’m feeling better now.”

“Quill followed you here, then when Namal and I got up he told me where to find you,” explained my brother as we turned together for the house.

“Kind of him.”

“He’s a royal guard,” smiled Ayglos, “There was no way he was letting you disappear.”

“I meant to let me wail in peace—although I suppose our royal guard would have done that, too.” I desperately wanted to rub my face, but my hands were covered in horse-dirt and would only make matters worse. “I must look a sight.”

My brother snorted. “Any knight would leap to right the wrongs that caused your tears.”

I noticed that Ayglos had new clothes, too; fitted deep brown trousers and a shirt that was a dusky cherry tone. Like mine, they were good thick cloth, soft with wear. “You look nice,” I commented as we entered the yard.

“Ironsides is most generous,” replied my brother.

“Ayglos,” I stopped him before we could enter the house, “I was talking with Quill this morning—he said that Narya really is a sorceress—that Shyr Valla and her armies are truly gone without a trace.”

Ayglos turned back to look at me carefully. “He did?”

I nodded. “That is how Dalyn fell: Her armies were—disappeared—poof—and did not come to lift the siege. When no rescue came, the city fell.”

Ayglos considered this for a moment. Before he spoke I knew he had decided on skepticism. “There are any number of things that could have happened to that army,” he said at last. “Perhaps they joined her army,” He held up a hand to stop my protest, “Stranger things have happened. Though the city is a harder thing. Did Quill see it?”

I closed my mouth. Quill hadn’t said he’d seen it himself, technically, though I was sure he had.

Ayglos knew he had won his point. “There now, nothing is certain. There is no use worrying.” He led the way into the house, and had the good grace to take me to the hallway where all our rooms were rather than to the main hall.

He left me at my room and I washed my hands and splashed more water on my face. Not feeling quite ready yet to face the others, I also unbraided and combed my hair before twisting it back into braids and curling these into buns at the back of my head. When I was finished I took a deep breath and walked back to the main hall.

When I arrived my brothers were standing, staring at one of Quill’s men, who was sitting on a bench with a weary slump that implied a hard ride and a recent arrival.

“You’re sure?” asked Namal.

The man nodded. “It looks like they had wagon trouble. The wheels were mismatched like they’d had to get new ones on their way.”

“But you’re sure it’s them?” repeated Ayglos.

The man nodded again.

Just then Quill entered the room from the kitchen door, carrying a tray with a porridge bowl and a mug. His eyes met mine and he nodded to me before going to his man and setting the tray down before him. “Here you are, well earned.”

The scout, for he clearly was, gratefully fell upon the porridge. I walked up to the table and my brother’s noticed me for the first time.

“Zare,” Namal turned to me and held out an arm. I stepped in to his embrace. “Zare, they found our family.”

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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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