“Well, we at least are sure we need to pass into Ondar first.” Kitlyn wiped her hands of crumbs and repacked her satchel. “Finding our way to the border is as easy as following the road. Once we’re there, we should encounter no shortage of tales among the people warning us where not to go.”
Oona stood and attached her provisions bag to her saddle. “Oh, that sounds dreadfully reckless. Ask people where we shouldn’t go, then proceed to rush straight there.”
“True, though tales like that are meant to frighten village children away from danger.”
“Kit.” Oona pulled herself back up upon Cloud. “Some would still consider us children, and I do happen to be from a village.”
She sighed. “Only the elderly consider us children. It’s not as if we’re still fifteen.”
“Oh, yes.” Oona exaggerated a nod. “From child to adult at the stroke of midnight.”
“In terms of law, that is true.” Kitlyn laughed.
After a few hours traveling along the road northwest from Cimril, they passed a sign indicating a branching road to the right led to the city of Imric. Oona had spent enough time over the past four years staring longingly at maps of the kingdom while confined to the castle to know that they would be making camp in the meadow tonight. The route they followed led to Gwynaben. Oona’s official estate sat an hour west of the city in the foothills, though she had not yet visited it. Upon the former king granting her that land and title, a trickle of money began to flow to the property, supporting a small staff to tend the house and grounds.
She spent a while trying to decide if she wanted to holiday there during the winter or wait for the spring. No, that far north, it would be unwise to go there in the winter. We’d be snowed in. Regardless of the season, she should at least spend a week or two getting to know the place she owned. She would be unlikely to take up permanent residence what with being the queen consort, unless something dreadful happened.
They chatted about the Na’vir, the wretched queen, Evie’s lessons, as well as Oona’s desire to have the youngest maids also educated enough to read, and other minutiae. Kitlyn appeared to be avoiding talk of the sorcerer beyond repeating that she much preferred the idea of sneaking in and out.
When darkness fell, they steered their horses into the grass beside the road, unburdened them of saddles and gear, and set up a little camp near a burbling stream. The sky had a hint of overcast, so Kitlyn drew a mass of roots up from the meadow, weaving them together into a dome in case of rain.
“Oh, you are cheating.” Oona tickled her. “That’s far simpler than figuring out how to assemble a tent.”
Giggling, Kitlyn grabbed the poking finger jabbing her in the side. “We didn’t even bring a tent!”
“So unprepared we are.” Oona folded her arms in mock scolding. “How do you expect to challenge an undead sorcerer when we can’t even remember to pack properly?”
Kitlyn stuck out her tongue.
They fell seated together beside the dome, laughing, eventually making a meal of hard cheese and bread. Kitlyn showed no sign of objecting to the basic rations, but Oona had to force herself to eat enough to feel full. She already missed the fine dinners prepared in the castle. Though, more to the point, she wanted hot food as a stronger chill came with the darkness.
“It is quiet and peaceful.” Kitlyn leaned her head against Oona’s shoulder.
“Yes. I don’t mind it as much as I thought I would.”
“What’s that?”
Oona played with Kitlyn’s hair. “Being out here. Sleeping in the meadow instead of our enormous bed. The smell of the grass and flowers.”
“Serene.”
“Yes.”
Kitlyn traced a finger under Oona’s jaw and gently tugged her chin into a kiss. “I could let myself forget all about our being queens for a while and enjoy the simplicity of it.”
“I think I may like that.” Oona initiated a second kiss. “It is nice to pretend we have no worries or responsibilities.”
“Let us run off to a village and raise chickens in obscurity.”
Oona giggled. “I know you speak in jest.”
Kitlyn brushed a hand over Oona’s chest. “This armor is not made for being romantic.”
“It stops a gentle caress as well as a blade.”
“’Tis leather with some chain. It doesn’t really stop blades. At least not well-aimed ones.”
“Then I shall endeavor to duck.” Oona tapped a finger to Kitlyn’s nose.
“We’re doing this, aren’t we?”
“Yes.”
“Out here alone again.”
Oona snuggled closer. “We are, but we’re not running away this time.”
“Do you yet understand why we needed to travel alone?”
“No, only that people would die if we didn’t.”
“There is too much death.”
Oona yawned. “I agree.”
“We can’t run away.”
“I didn’t suggest that in seriousness.” Again, Oona tried to tickle her. Alas, leather armor protected rather well against probing fingers.
Kitlyn wriggled, bit her lip, and thrust a finger up into Oona’s armpit, bypassing the armor.
“Eep!” squealed Oona, before clutching her arm tight to her side and falling against Kitlyn, laughing. “Without the war hanging over us, life in the castle is quite pleasant… but we should allow ourselves the occasional break.”
“Agreed.”
A droplet of rain landed on Oona’s head. “Oh. The skies are about to render their opinion.”
Kitlyn groaned and sat up, pressing her hand into the earth. Green light surrounded her arm and distant roots sprang up from the ground forming a shelter for the horses. Cloud startled at the sudden growth, while Apples gave the new structure a blasé glance. Soon after the root shelter stopped becoming larger, the horses meandered under it.
Oona crawled into the dome and unrolled her sleeping mat. Kitlyn slipped in and grew roots shut over the opening before removing her sword belt, boots, and armor. For comfort, Oona decided to follow suit and they curled up together, wearing light tunics in place of nightgowns. She summoned a tiny orb of blue that gave off more heat than light.
In the coziness of their small shelter, Oona huddled close to Kitlyn, finding the patter of rain on the roots above them comforting. Between the warmth and the soft, regular breathing of her love, she fell asleep in minutes.
By afternoon the next day, they reached a river which Oona suspected to be the one that ran southeast to Lake Orien. Fortunately, the road they followed had a bridge. They stopped briefly at a small village on the other side to buy some dried meat, bread, and cheese. None of the townspeople recognized them as anything more than a pair of young travelers. One old woman even called them ‘adventurers.’
Around early evening, Oona steered Cloud onto a dirt road leading somewhat to the left that she figured went to Valor Pass, the border between Lucernia and Ondar.
“Are we doing something wrong?” asked Kitlyn.
“How do you mean?” Oona glanced over at her.
“Well. We aren’t ordinary people anymore.”
Oona chuckled. “I don’t think we ever were ‘ordinary.’”
“That’s not what I mean.” Kitlyn playfully swatted at her. “I mean we’re the queens of Lucernia.”
“You are the queen. I am your wife.”
Kitlyn sighed. “As far as I am concerned, we are of the same station.”
“I do not object, but it is not me you need to convince of that.” Oona reached forward to straighten Cloud’s gossamer white mane. “You are referring to us riding into Ondar unannounced?”
“Yes. Are we required to have a great procession of guards and attendants, fancy gowns, and whatnot to enter a different kingdom?”
“It is probably a breach of etiquette, yes. However, we’re not making an official visit and while I am not suggesting we lie, we should probably not go out of our way to announce our identities
.”
“Do you expect trouble?” Kitlyn squinted ahead into the breeze, surveying the increasingly hilly terrain.
“Not from the Ondari nation as a whole. They have been friendly to us for many years. Attracting too much attention and fanfare would slow us down. Not to mention what thieves or brigands might believe they can do with two innocent, defenseless young girls of high station.”
Kitlyn let her head loll to the left, staring at Oona from under flat eyebrows. “Defenseless?”
“Your face!” Oona giggled. “I tease. But they would not know that until they attempted to accost us. And I would much rather avoid conflict.”
“As would I. We should—”
“Look out!” yelled Oona, her voice echoing.
Kitlyn whirled to face forward and found herself only a few feet from a canyon of pale beige rock. She pulled back on the reins, but didn’t really have to. Apples stopped on his own. The soft roar of a moving river came from below. A bridge of heavy wooden planks and thick rope spanned a gap of about thirty feet. It appeared sturdy enough for horses, despite swaying in the wind.
“I don’t think this is Valor Pass.” Oona let out a nervous laugh and slid from the saddle. She approached the end of the bridge and peered over the side. A modest-sized river ran at the base of the ravine some forty feet down, the walls dotted here and there with little shrubs and beautiful azure flowers. The sight of the drop stirred a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach and made her light-headed. She bit back her worry, leaned away from the edge, and forced a smile at Kitlyn. “It might not be a bad idea to cross here. We would avoid scrutiny at the border garrison.”
“Aren’t you afraid of heights? And must we sneak about like a pair of fugitives?”
Oona closed her eyes and shivered, trying not to think about the ravine’s depth. “I am… quite unhappy with heights. But I do not want either the garrison commander on our side to insist on sending soldiers with us or the military on the Ondari side to insist we travel directly to Bellsford and have an audience with the king. Especially not in these clothes.” Oona blushed. “I’d sooner meet King Lanwick with nothing on than dressed like a highway brigand.”
“Oh, you most certainly would not.” Kitlyn grinned.
“I would at that!” said Oona, almost shouting despite a nervous smile.
“You’re being dramatic again. I do not for one instant believe you are more embarrassed at wearing un-fancy armor and pants than you would be impersonating a dryad.”
Oona let go of her joke long enough to consider it as a real question. “Well, yes, you’re right. Perhaps, then, I am not a proper Lucernian noble. Lady Harrington would refuse to wear common clothes even if it meant streaking the city.”
Kitlyn laughed, and faced the bridge.
“Would you be more frightened of crossing that dreadful bridge or running like a dryad across Cimril?” Oona flashed an impish smile, picturing that.
“Both frighten me. Though permanently destroying my dignity would not kill me.”
“So you’d rather…” Oona raised an eyebrow.
“Only if you joined me.” Kitlyn winked and stepped out onto the bridge.
Oona gasped into a giggle. “We would scandalize the kingdom for centuries.”
“Precisely why we will not be doing that.”
A wave of relief swept over her. She’s not serious. And, now that she’s gotten me thoroughly terrified of being bare in public, the bridge doesn’t seem too bad. Oona gathered Cloud’s reins.
“Wait on the horses. I want to check the bridge first. We probably shouldn’t bring both horses over this at the same time.”
“Oh.” Oona let go of the reins, watching the bridge bob and sway. Her stomach clenched and relaxed in response. Fear rooted her to the ground but love pulled her forward. Once Kitlyn reached about a third of the way across, she rushed out onto the swaying suspension bridge. Her rapid stride made the planks buck up and down like rough seas.
Kitlyn grabbed the main rope on the left, as thick as her forearm.
Despite not looking down, the unstable footing blinded Oona with fear. She sprinted into a collision with Kitlyn, clamping her arms around tight.
“Gah! What are you doing?”
“Umm. I know what you tried to do with talking about going outside naked, but it didn’t quite work. I’m still scared. I can’t manage this bridge alone.”
“We could go back and find the actual pass.”
“We could,” said Oona.
Apples snorted at the bridge and trotted off. Cloud flicked his ears, looked at the departing warhorse, then followed him.
“Hey!” shouted Oona. “Come back here!”
Neither horse paid her any mind, continuing to trot off out of sight.
The bridge lurched downward.
Oona screamed, peering around Kitlyn (who also screamed) at the far side. One of the main poles supporting the giant ropes had tilted forward, pulling up from the ground. She froze in terrified horror as the smaller base rope unraveled. Two planks slipped free from the right side and dangled by one end.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” whispered Oona.
“Grab the big rope on this side. We can climb it.”
Oona, shivering, forced herself to let go of Kitlyn and clung to the massive rope. She couldn’t bear to pull herself up on top of it as that felt too much like trying to jump off the side.
A clump of earth in front of the left pole behind them fell out from the cliff face. The rope they both held dipped down.
“It’s going to fall!” shouted Oona.
“Hurry. We have time. Walk!”
“I can’t.” Oona stared at her legs, which refused to move. That of course, let her see between the boards at the river forty feet straight down. “Oh, Lucen. I’m sorry for saying we should use this bridge.”
“Ugh!” yelled Kitlyn. “I am a fool.”
Oona looked up, confused at why she would feel in any way at fault here. The bridge dipped another few inches, making her scream again.
“The Churning Deep.” Kitlyn reached her right arm out toward the far side, extending her left the other way.
“This is not the Churn. It’s many times smaller.” Oona shivered, refusing to even think about the view from Omun’s shoulder while he walked them across the Arch of the Ancients.
“Exactly.”
Crackling and creaking arose from both sides. It took a moment for Oona to find the courage to open her eyes. Thick clusters of creeping roots grew out from the cliff wall, threading along the path of the bridge. When they reached her, Oona released her grip on the rope and resumed clinging to Kitlyn who stood unassisted in the middle of the planks, emerald light shrouding both her hands. Wood groaned in protest as the roots pulled tight, lifting the bridge back into place. She coiled more roots around the poles and added several layers to the bridge surface.
In about ten minutes, Kitlyn had essentially replaced the suspension bridge with a rigid one made of dozens of interwoven roots. Solid footing, even a bridge, reassured Oona enough to regain her composure. The bobbing and swaying had been too much.
“The rootcallers! That’s what you meant by the Churning Deep.”
Kitlyn took Oona’s hand, the last vestiges of magical light fading from around her fingers with a waft of strong herbal fragrance. “Are you all right?”
“Heart’s beating a bit fast, but yes.”
A horse nickered from the right.
Oona and Kitlyn turned to gaze across the bridge at Apples. Cloud meandered up behind him.
“How…” Oona blinked. “Where did they cross? How did they even know…?”
Shaking her head, Kitlyn hurried across the root bridge and patted Apples on the cheek. “You’re one smart horse. Took one look at that bridge and thought ‘no possible way.’”
Apples bared his gums, perhaps attempting to smile.
“I’d almost swear he understood you,” said Oona. “But animals don’t talk.”
Kitlyn shrugged. “Someone managed to teach Fauhurst how to walk on two legs.”
“Hah!” Oona cackled, her voice echoing down the ravine.
“Well… we’re in Ondar.” Kitlyn climbed back into the saddle. “The Titan Peaks are east from here. I think we’re still among the Dawnspire Mountains since we have not seen Valor Pass.”
Oona hugged Cloud before mounting. “I agree. We should travel east, and perhaps look for a town where we can find information, food, and lodging.”
“You are so wise. No wonder they made you queen.” Kitlyn winked.
Oona raspberried her.
28
The Lost Regiment
Kitlyn
The dark shadows of mountains offered an easy way to navigate eastward.
As long as Kitlyn could remember, people in Lucernia quibbled over the distinction between the Dawnspire Mountains and the Titan Peaks being the same. Some argued that Valor Pass made them into two separate ranges despite both following the same contour.
Sometimes, the names of rivers could change from one area to the next even though the water remained part of the same flow. She didn’t really care one way or the other if the gods intended the mountains that bordered Lucernia on the east and north to be one or two ranges. Giving it two names only helped people differentiate between north and west. Though both the Dawnspires and the Titan Peaks each spanned several hundred miles of hostile terrain, the ranges being considered separate spared them quite a bit of confusion when talking about location. Perhaps the Nimse Queen had not said ten years due to her vast lifespan making the time seem trivial to her, but instead implied that it may take them that long to find the sorcerer.
She glanced at Oona with pity. She couldn’t ask her love to spend so long roaming around the land. Her little sister, a girl who had started to feel somewhat like a daughter to Kitlyn, would be older than they were now after ten years. Selfish as it seemed, separating them for that long felt like a cruelty she couldn’t ask on behalf of the Nimse.
The Cursed Crown Page 27
