by Bowes, K T
My hand strayed to my lips and I felt I might vomit. His fingers closed around the shoulder of my jacket and he tugged me towards the wooden door. One handed, he dragged away the ivy and tried the handle. It opened to his touch. “But what of these captives?” I whispered. “Am I to spend my life served by those who detest me?”
Limah sighed and he hauled the creaky door aside. The tunnel yawned before me, a void filled with earthy scents and an endless darkness. I dug the heels of my boots into the loose snow and his brow knitted. He didn’t try to force me into his lair, but his hand remained on my shoulder as a continual pressure. “Who are these people?” I gasped. “Who and what are they?”
His hand moved from my shoulder to my chin and he lifted my face, so our eyes met. “They are the remnant, Este. They are your colony.”
“No.” My nostrils flared and my eyes widened. Fear prickled inside my chest where Sonora’s bees once lodged in my heart. I pushed at his armoured stomach with weak, fluttering motions. “I don’t believe you.”
“They’re the members of her swarm she selected for you. They need their queen.”
“No,” I groaned. “They don’t want me.”
“Este!” His grip on my chin increased as his fingers curled around my face. “They don’t know what they want. Your mother chose them for a specific task. They don’t see their fitness for great things or their role in the founding of a dynasty to rival all others. Bitterness has consumed their hearts and minds and left no room for more noble aspirations. Instead of feeling valued and revered, they experience rejection and abandonment. Feelings are a deceptive leader, Estefania. Choose instead to rely on facts. A sheep penned alone by a shepherd for his prized competition piece does not consider its chosen status. It sees isolation and panics at the prospect of segregation and death.” He sighed. “A princess set apart for greatness cannot see the vision placed upon her shoulders. She views all through the filter of imprisonment and certain failure.”
CHAPTER FOUR
The Old Drone
I let him pull the door open for me, its base grinding against fallen leaves and a small drift of snow. He pushed me through ahead of him and I shuddered at the sense of constriction which settled on my shoulders.
Exhaustion showed in the lines of Limah’s face as I cast a glance over my shoulder. Unlike the night of my escape, the corridor shone with the eerie glow of torches hanging from the rock walls. He unhooked one, winding his sleeve around the wax on the wooden stake to protect his hands. The dancing flame lit his face from below, casting a shadow above his scar and giving him a ghoulish appearance. My steps slowed and I hungered for the chill air outside. When I dug my heels in, he walked into my back with a grunt and cursed as he almost set light to my cap. “What now, Este?” he demanded, a harshness to his tone. My eyes widened and I cowered against the rugged wall.
“I’m afraid!” I exclaimed, as though he should know. “Would you step willingly back into Galveston’s torture chamber?”
He sighed. “If I saw no other choice, yes. But nobody tortured you here. We confined you for your own safety.” He stepped past me and I heard him mutter under his breath, “Not that it did you much good.”
“What do you mean?” I demanded. “I found freedom beyond this dungeon. Here I found slave labour and stupefaction.”
Limah seized my chin and yanked my head upwards to take in the full force of his angry expression. His fingers felt unkind on my chapped skin and I tasted sage on his breath as it washed over me. “You are ungrateful, Estefania and I am ashamed. These people fed you and kept you safe. They invited you to join a common goal and take part in their activity, providing me with the metal for a machine to protect you.” He dropped his hand and in pulling my head away, I banged it on the wall and let out a yelp of pain. Limah lowered his voice to a hiss. “For days I searched for you, Estefania. Days. And when I find you, I’m insulted for my efforts and beaten by your enemy.”
“I made you my counselor,” I offered, as though it might stem his ire.
Limah’s eyes grew dark with danger. “Then take it back!” he spat. “I don’t need fancy titles to do the work given to me. Go!” He pointed to the door behind us and jabbed his finger in my face. “Leave, Estefania of the Melitto. I’ll tell Sonora her daughter baulked at the task and she must find another queen to rule the poor, lost souls whom she put aside for you!” He turned away, taking the torchlight and his company with him.
I hung back against the rough wall long after Limah’s footsteps disappeared along the corridor and made the turn out of sight. My damp clothing clung to my skin and the airless tunnel did nothing to dry it. In desperation, I let tiny steps take me to the nearest torch and I stood beneath it, letting the small flame warm my fingers. “I can’t do this,” I breathed, inspecting my ragged nails and the peeling skin on my hands from the constant cold and wet conditions. “There’s no authority left in me. These last days have knocked it out.” I blew on my fingers and allowed self-pity to consume me. It made a comfortable shroud for hiding beneath.
“Perhaps circumstance has knocked it back in,” a voice said. I jumped and banged the handle of the torch nearest my face. Hot melted wax spilled onto my jacket sleeve and flicked against my cheek. I wiped at it, feeling it harden at the contact with my cold skin and leave a layer of tingling crust. The old drone stood before me as though he’d materialised from fresh air. His eyes searched the darkness, sightless and moving for the sake of it. My heart clenched.
“Go away,” I said, putting my customary haughtiness into the delivery of the command.
He laughed. “Good girl. That’s the spirit.”
Turning, I sent my reluctant feet back towards the entrance, feeling the chill wind blow around my ankles and seep through the holes in my breeches. I heard the drone’s boot soles scrape on the floor behind me and halted. He raised a hand to detain me, feeble, shaking fingers stretching in my direction. “I didn’t thank you for saving my life at the taverna,” he said. “It was remiss of me.”
I let out a snort and my eyes narrowed. “Remiss?” I turned to face him, seeing his head turn as he listened for my approach. My mouth opened to rebuke him, but I paused as another thought rose instead. “I fancied you saw me through the wall when Limah sneaked me away from Kuiti.” I inhaled, tiredness and shame nipping at the edges of my resolve. “But your blindness means you saw nothing and I maligned you in my thoughts.”
“I see in my bee form.” He sounded upbeat as though the thought gave him pleasure. “There is a respite from the darkness there. And I know your scent from Sonora’s hive and can track it.” He spread his hands either side of him. “You won’t tell anyone my secret? They coddle me like an invalid and I enjoy it.”
I shook my head. “Who would I tell? I’m leaving. Nobody cares outside in the snow.” The door creaked beneath my fingers and the wood felt rough and splintered in places. I glanced at him as he ran his palm along the wall, seeking direction. Another question burned in my breast, eager for answer. “How do you change your shape?”
He inhaled and his chest filled with air and something which glowed like pride in his face. “Queen Sonora gifted me the ability for services rendered.” His lips parted to reveal toothless gums.
I recoiled in horror. “She took you as a lover?”
His laugh echoed around the corridor, repeating over and over as a dull reverberation until it reached the end and died. “As a counselor, Estefania Melitto. Just a counselor.”
“I don't wish to live as a creature with a head, thorax and abdomen.” The words spewed forth and I halted, hearing them as though spoken by another. Here lay the crux of it and the rest gushed forward like water released from a dam. “I like this body and this world. The thought of disconnecting from it and morphing into a bee gives me a physical pain.” I pressed my fingers against my chest. “And yet, being away from the hive gives me the same discomfort.” I shook my head. “I have no ready answer and anyway, I'm leaving.”
&nb
sp; “So, you’ve made your choice.” He said it as a statement, not a question. “Even though you see I can live as both.”
I sighed, the dilemma overwhelming in the forefront of my mind. It obscured my ability to think straight. The shrug of my shoulders betrayed hopelessness. “I’m unable to stay, yet at the same time unable to stay away.”
The drone's fingers nibbled at a groove in the rock wall and he nodded, his eyes flicking in their sockets without sight or direction. He smiled. “How do you see me, Queen Estefania?”
I screwed up my face at his question and the breeze from beyond the door curled around my ankles, pulling me towards it. “I don't understand the question.” In my mind, I pictured my boots tramping towards the exit and stepping over the threshold.
“Am I Apis or am I a man?” he asked, his voice soft.
I shrugged, bored of the game. Having made my decision, I should act on it. “I don't know,” I replied. “I’ve seen you as both. Perhaps the question is less about how I see you and more about how you see yourself.”
His laughter echoed around me like fluttering wings and he leaned back against the wall, shaking his head and revealing his gums. “You’re wiser than I believed, my Queen. That is indeed the question.”
“Glad to oblige.” My fingers stroked the wall as I walked towards a daunting future, pressing myself between the door and its frame to avoid the creak. Hunger filled my belly with grumbling and I placed a hand over it to still its complaint. Freezing air snatched away my breath as I stepped into the snow.
“Apis,” the old man called from behind him. I glanced through the gap to see him smooth his gnarled hand from head to waist, a gentle smile on his lips. He curled his fingers into a fist and placed them against his breast. “You see a man, but I am Apis through and through, Queen Estefania. What are you?”
“A girl.” For the first time in days, the memory of my simile pushed to the fore and I gripped my chest in an agony of grief. I spoke through gritted teeth. “Always a girl.”
The old drone nodded and took a few shuffling steps forward. Creases lined his aged brow and his face grew sad. “I was there,” he whispered. “She fought well. Her wings shimmered beneath the sun and her glory made them fall on their faces.”
“Wings?” My voice croaked and I examined her in my memory. I ached as the fade of time already blurred her features. “She had no wings.”
“Ah, but she did.” He closed his eyes and I saw them still shift beneath the lids. “What we are on the inside is what we reflect.” He patted his sunken chest. “I am as broken on the inner as I am on the outside and it’s self-inflicted. What are you, Estefania Melitto? Does your appearance reflect your soul? If it does, we’re doomed.”
“I’m tired!” I spat. “I don’t understand what Limah wants from me.” The last weeks flooded through my mind, a stark contrast to my life of privilege and ease on the island. “And I’m tired of unpicking my life piece by rotten piece to reveal yet another fistful of lies. Who and what am I? A drifting branch in a fast-moving stream with no parents, no kingdom and no friends. I’m a walking, talking enigma of perpetual misery.” My fingers caressed the ragged lapels of my jacket. Emptiness roiled inside me, my empty stomach complimenting my empty soul. No hive. No simile. Nothing.
The heaviness remained, bearing down on me as I faced the snow-laden forest. Abandoned by the birds, only silence returned to me in the urgent rustle of the overhead branches. I heard the drone sigh. “Then we are indeed ruined.”
CHAPTER FIVE
The Machine
I don't know why I stayed. Perhaps if I fully understood my actions, I could trace the motive behind. It's possible the old man's statement set a challenge in my stubborn heart. Or maybe the gale which blew into the valley and whipped up the snow discouraged me from another cold night outside. Running without a fixed destination hadn't worked out well so far. The drone looked pleased as he heard my feet scrape against the tunnel floor and his face lit with enthusiasm. “I will take you to the Master,” he gushed, beckoning with eager fingers and latching onto my wrist with a deceptively firm grip.
“Is he with the machine?” I asked, feeling the vibration rumble through the ground as we approached the first bend. It seemed an age since I spied through the rough door at Limah's frustration.
The old man paused and shifted his feet, cocking his head like a bird. “Nay,” he said with certainty, hauling me past the door and continuing forward. I recognised the familiar movements as he tried to sense Limah's presence in the mess of corridors and caverns. Deeper into the labyrinth he led me, running his other hand along the wall to keep his bearings. He hardly faltered, leading me past rooms filled with the sound of voices and the clattering of work. My heart sank as I registered dreaded landmarks of protruding rocks in the walls. They resembled shapes and faces and I hated them. Memories of my days in the wash room seemed hazy, not least because of the stupor the women fixed over me. But I remembered the path back to my room even though the route there was clouded by a mist of drugged confusion.
The old man's grip never failed and no amount of pulling on my wrist freed it from his grasp. I submitted and allowed him to lead me to the last place I wanted to go. He released me only long enough to give a sharp rap on the door and turn the knob. The dreaded wash room opened out before me and my heart clenched in an unhealthy jolt which disturbed its rhythm. The room opened out before me, candle lit and gloomy. I dug my heels into the soil floor and refused to cross over the threshold, gasping as the drone gave a superhuman yank and dragged me face first into the interior.
My bucket sat in its place as though I had left it only moments ago. Sitting apart from the others of its kind, it screamed of my isolation and I baulked. “This is a mistake,” I breathed. “I don't want to stay.”
“Hush.” The drone gave an impatient tap of his feet and led me forward.
Limah stood over my bucket, his torso bare and his braces dangling either side of his hips. Sudsy water covered his arms to the elbows and his face held the darkness of deep concentration. I saw the remaining marks of Galveston's sword thrust and sensed the moment the drone saw them too. The old man’s body stiffened and his lips murmured a curse. Oblivious of our presence, Limah focussed on the piece of speckled metal in his fingers, swilling it in the water and then inspecting it in a peculiar loop of behaviour.
“Master.” The drone effected a deep bow, his fingers digging into my wrist. I defied his attempt to force me into a mirror of his deference, remaining upright and proud despite my exhaustion.
Limah looked up and raised himself from his squat, the muscles of his abdomen flexing into tight knots. He held up the piece of metal. “The raiding party recovered this from the smithy in the next town.” The fingers of his other hand moved to caress the pitted surface. “Acid has eaten into it, but a good repair might make it useful.”
“Is the machine not finished?” I asked, curiosity loosening my tongue. “It killed the birds.”
Limah shook his head. “It's designed to do more. Much more.” He rubbed a hand across his face and the metal left a smudge of oil on his forehead. I sighed and itched to take it from him and wash it in the way Hosta trained me.
“The brush.” I pointed to the tools lined up behind the bucket, laid out as I left them days ago. “It removes the residue.”
Limah peered at the objects and I watched his body sway with exhaustion. The drone released my wrist. “Eat, Master.” He took a step forward and his fingers moved in front of his face as though tasting the air. As Limah sighed, I watched the old man alter his direction just enough to realise he'd replaced his failed eyesight with sound and vibration. His fingers dug into Limah's shoulders and he gave him a rough shake. “You're no good to us if your health fails,” he whispered. “We need a keeper and a scientist, not another corpse to carry into the forest.”
Limah nodded and my eyes widened as he pressed a gentle palm to the old man's cheek. “I'll stop for today,” he promised. “But
tomorrow I must begin again.”
The drone gave a toothless smile and turned away, feeling the airwaves back to where he left me. I held my breath and made no sound, testing out his abilities as I stepped sideways five paces. A smirk lit his lips and dimples in his sunken cheeks betrayed the man he once might have been. “Do not test me, my lady,” he said. “You will lose.”
CHAPTER SIX
March of the Bees
Limah placed the precious shard of metal in the pocket of his breeches, his scarred fingers smoothing it there with exaggerated care. My brows knitted in frustration at the grease stain it left in its wake, for I knew I could have cleaned it better. He jerked his head towards me without looking at my face. “Take the lady to find refreshment,” he said, patting his pocket. “She drank only melted snow on our journey and ate nothing. It would be a shame to come this far and then lose her to starvation.”
The drone lay hold of my arm and I shook him off, feeling a dart of guilt as he swayed and opened his mouth in surprise. “No!” I said, pushing my nose into the air and narrowing my eyes to slits. The glare I gave Limah should have felled him on the spot. “Do not give me orders, Counselor. I no longer dance to your tune.” Folding my arms and channelling my old self, I saw the glimmer of amusement in Limah’s dark eyes. “I demand an explanation and you will give it.” The drone’s tentative fingers moved towards my wrist and my body tightened in anticipation of assault. “Touch me again and I will break your hand.” I said the words with calculated venom, my voice low and filled with icy determination. Weary of being treated as a counter on a board game I didn’t understand, I made my stand and seized the authority my mother gave me. I sought her, stretching out my will and yet still surprised when her wings fluttered inside my chest. Hope and maternal love blossomed, thawing the ice which formed there. I sensed her blessing and it brought with it courage and strength. The words slipped from my lips without my direction and I heard them as though spoken by another. “I am your queen.”
