by C B Samet
It took a lot of self-coaxing to get out of bed. Lying back down and giving in to exhaustion was a far more inviting proposition. I wanted to pull the covers over my head and wait for the collapse of the kingdom to pass before emerging. But I finally stood. Walking to the bath, I slipped out of my clothes and into the tub of warm water.
I imagined for a moment that I was in the Ntik Eternal Springs west of the Ntajid Strait. The waters were warm and effervescent, but I had only been allowed in them once at the end of my chemistry studies. The spring had smelled like eucalyptus and aloe and was thick with salt.
The Ntajidians were a dark-skinned race with a strict hierarchy of classes—one had to earn his or her way higher. Students who went to study were part of their Ntraba or working class. I was only allowed to take spring water samples for chemistry study in exchange for working in the springs. It was hard servitude under a scorching sun with dry flat land and too few trees for shade.
At Ntajid, I worked six hours in the hot sun every day, fetching towels and providing refreshments to the half-dressed Ntajidians. It took another six hours to complete my studies after that. I gained a remarkable tan, but saw more naked bodies than I cared to see. Travelers from all over the world came to bathe in the springs and pits.
Jo, my supervisor, was a lanky fourteen-year-old boy who had worked in the springs since he was ten. He explained that there were hot water springs, cold water springs and mud pits.
“What is the spring at the far southwest corner?” I asked.
“You are not allowed there,” he stated the obvious.
I nodded, rolling my eyes and wiping sweat from my forehead, as we wheeled used towels across the long wooden deck back to the laundry.
“They are the Healing Springs,” he explained.
“What types of things can they heal?” I strained to push my wheelbarrow.
He shrugged. “Anything, I suppose.”
“Cuts, scrapes, broken bones?”
He nodded.
“Mortal wounds?”
“You mean someone who is dying?”
“Yeah.”
“I think so. I don’t work over there. You have to have many years’ experience. But I helped carry someone there who had severe burns over most of his body, and it healed him,” Jo explained.
“Think they’ll give me a water sample?”
“No.”
I frowned. Salt had cleansing and healing ability, which was probably the source of their mystery. Magical waters? Doubtful. Though I had thought of my chest and wondered if the waters could heal old scars.
But I was not soaking in magical waters now. This was a plain bath but at least the water was warm.
I washed and dried. Joshua had selected black leggings and a long, light-blue blue tunic. He knew what I liked to wear, what was comfort- able to me. I put the clothes on and enjoyed for a moment that he must have carried them close because they smelled like pine. After lacing my stolen boots, I exited the hotel.
I looked over the sullen group. The Queen stood beside Joshua not knowing her destination or fate, but accepting it with silent resignation. Joshua was forlorn with a sadness I’d never seen in him. He must have spent the last hour thinking of Paul’s tragic death. Nonetheless, he had gotten us three days’ of food and water and a wagon with driver who would take us within a half day’s walk to Aithos. For my own selfishness, I was happy to have Joshua join us.
After the first ten kilometers, traffic on the road thinned and the day grew quiet. We rode in the back of the well-shaded prairie schooner.
Not knowing how to interact with Joshua in the presence of the Queen, I mostly kept quiet.
“I’ve never been to Aithos, Abbey, but I’ve sure seen your eyes light up about it. What’s in store for us there?” Joshua asked.
I grimaced a little. Now the Queen knew where we were going. I had neglected to tell Joshua it was a secret. Well, it was the only place south of here other than the desert, so she would have known soon enough if she hadn’t figured it out already. Her face remained stoic.
I mustered a smile for Joshua. “It’s magnificent—with canyons so deep and red-orange like wildfire as far as the eye can see. Whole families live in the rocks around one hearth. Their greatest pride, aside from their homeland, are their horses—majestic creatures so adapted to the landscape they can safely navigate to the river at the canyon’s base.”
“It is remarkable,” the Queen agreed. She did not seem upset that the next destination had been announced.
“You’ve been?” I asked.
She nodded.
“And ridden the horses?”
She nodded again with a soft smile.
“But then they will recognize you.” Worry welled up inside me.
“Oh, that was many years ago. I am sure I appear quite different now. I had hoped to make an appearance there more recently and foster relations, but now it seems fortuitous that I did not accomplish that goal. I do not relish the thought of putting those harmonious people in danger. Though I suppose with the castle under siege, all of my lands are in danger.”
I thought about all of her kingdom—as far north as the icy Karnelik Mountains and as far south as the tropical Ntajid springs. They were such different races and all allowed their individual governing bodies and local ordinances, yet all united under Marrington and protected under the Queen. Now that she was deposed, no one was protected.
“Vast riches lie prey to siege,” I thought out loud. “The ores of the Ballik, the horses of Aithos, the springs of the Ntajid, the silver of Taxco, the knowledge of Oxville.”
“There must be a solution,” Joshua asserted.
“Have you someone working on a solution?” I asked.
The Queen replied solemnly, “Those capable of such contriving are captors of the Malanook.”
“So they’re behind all of this?” Joshua said with sudden clarity.
“The what?” I looked at him with bewilderment. The Queen had mentioned that name before, but it was in the context of the Scouters, and I was too busy envisioning demon birds to ask what Malanook meant.
“Ah, you wasted all those studies on science, and I know something you don’t know from mythology,” he teased.
I glowered at him.
With entirely too much satisfaction, he explained, “The Malanook are a conglomerate of evil beings wielded by Malos, their leader and enslaver. They were exiled a thousand years ago to an island deep in the Viger Sea after an attempted occupation of the Queen’s land. They’re sort of half-animal, half-demon beings.”
“You learned this in mythology, and it’s true.” I felt confused and disheartened.
I couldn’t decide which was more disconcerting, Joshua knowing so much about what was now in control of our kingdom or the fact that non-human, evil creatures did in fact control the kingdom. I looked at the Queen for some sort of reassurance.
She nodded. “About every one thousand years or so, they rise from the ashes of the Serpent Volcano.”
The Serpent Volcano. My heart sank. It was located on the island of Mulan, a desolate place shrouded in dense fog, which was so elusive it could never be pinpointed on a map. The island of Mulan was where my parents were speculated to have been shipwrecked.
“That explains the Swallowers you described,” Joshua added.
“What do they want?” I asked. And why was she opening up to Joshua, but hadn’t told any of this to me during these last few days we had spent together?
“Everything,” she replied ominously.
Joshua elaborated, “You already said it, Abbey. They want access to all the riches. With the silver they can buy a bigger army and brandish them with indestructible Ballik blades while making them invincible with the spring water. They’ll ride to victory on your beloved horses.”
“They don’t want to conquer just my kingdom,” the Queen added. “They want to conquer the world.”
They had achieved their earliest goals so easily. What did that m
ean for the rest of their plans?
I thought back to my college days and a particular banter with Joshua. I had walked through his dormitory into what had been his and Paul’s mutual kitchen. Joshua and some of his fellow shullby gurus were playing a card game.
“Abbey!” Joshua exploded merrily, waving at me as though I might join their game.
I stopped and turned to him.
“We were just discussing the pros and cons of Marrington Kingdom’s lack of an army.”
I was sure I had heard them talking about attractive university girls.
“The Queen unites the kingdom through equality and kindred spirit. She offers peace and free trade. An army is unnecessary,” I replied.
Throwing a card onto the table, Joshua shook his head. “She can’t offer peace. She can unite different cultures and encourage peace or hope for peace, but she cannot guarantee it. It is an illusion to think that you can claim to offer peace without an army to maintain peace.” He winked at his fellow card players who snickered.
I began incredulously, hands on my hips, “It is the very lack of an army that helps guarantee peace! Supporting an army supports a group of men and women paid solely to perform violence.”
“They can be paid to keep peace,” he interjected, sipping moon juice.
“Mother Moon!” I swore. “Through the use of violence! An employed army need only change or lose loyalties and become paid mercenaries. How many times in how many cultures across the world has an army turned against the very people they were sworn to protect?”
My blood was boiling.
He turned to me and surveyed my state of infuriation with satisfaction. “No army, no peace-keeping,” he replied, turning back to his card game.
His companions chuckled.
Flustered, I looked around the room. I had forgotten the reason for my intrusion, so I left the dormitory.
Now, an army seemed like a necessary thing. I felt so disgusted and utterly heartbroken that I withdrew from the conversation. Joshua and the Queen talked about the Malanook, and he ascertained which parts of the myths were true and which were indeed mythical. They spoke of the acclaimed writer of the mythology of the Malanook, Sebastian Slade.
I slumped in a corner of the carriage and tried not to listen any longer. My mind swirled around images of my parents stranded on Mulan, the volcano island, being eaten by Swallowers. It was replaced by equally devastating images of Malos’s evil army marching across the continent, leaving a wake of death and destruction.
We stopped for a fire and rest when night fell. In the presence of the driver, Buck, the conversation became more congenial—family, the weather, usual routes of travel. It was dismally calm given the nightmare we were facing. After making sure the Queen had food and comfort, I separated myself from the group.
Joshua had tried to coax me over, but I refused with the wave of a hand. I couldn’t eat, and sleep was not the refuge from reality for which I was hoping. I buried my body under a blanket and dreamt of the Malanook ruling over a sea of bare bones, a burning volcano in the distance.
The next day I didn’t join them in the carriage but walked the first several kilometers beside the shaggy bison pulling it. The ground was level, the sky broad, and a steady breeze kept the temperature comfort- able. I dismissed Joshua’s invites to rest until I was too exhausted to continue. I crawled under the wagon shade. Without looking at any- one, I curled into a ball and slept.
That night, Joshua cooked a pork roast, the smell of which was so mouthwatering that I could no longer ignore my hunger. Sitting beside him, I enjoyed the warm fire and ate his delightful roast. To my relief, there was little conversation.
After dinner, the Queen retired to her bed within the wagon, out of sight of potential Scouters. Joshua placed an arm over my shoulder. I was suddenly reminded of the comfort of his embrace, and I surrendered my fears. We lay back on a blanket as I curled into his arms. Thankfully, he held me quietly, reassuringly. I slept soundly.
I awoke at sunrise the next day. Joshua lay within reach, peacefully sleeping on his side. Resisting an odd urge to wriggle close to him, I quietly rolled away and tried to refresh myself with water and hot tea provided by Buck. After finishing mine, I fixed a cup for the Queen and entered the back of the schooner. She was just rising, hair tousled. I was certain I was one of the few people to see her disheveled. Bidding her good morning I handed her a cup of tea and a napkin of nuts for breakfast and left her to find Joshua.
When I exited the wagon, Joshua was standing outside, stretching away morning stiffness, probably from sleeping on the hard ground.
He looked at the wagon and back at me. “No tea for me?”
“I am not your servant,” I scoffed.
He nodded, walking to the kettle and pouring himself a cup. “Indeed you are not. It’s hard to believe you’re anyone’s servant.”
I stared at him.
“Well, you’re independent and outspoken,” he explained. I continued to stare at him, feeling a familiar burning irritation in my throat when he began to goad me.
“And opinionated and outright stubborn,” he continued, his voice rising in the end.
“Only because you provoke me into all of those things,” I countered.
His jaw hardened, but his voice remained calm. “I was trying to pay you a compliment.”
“That I am too disobedient and domineering to be a servant? You may want to work on your definition of compliment,” I retorted, struggling to keep my tone even.
“No. My point was that you are neither submissive nor servile. So it’s difficult to imagine you are in a service job that you enjoy.”
I was silent for a moment. I fiddled with rinsing out the teacups.
“I’m not happy about it,” I admitted. “It’s just a job, just to earn enough to finish my degree.” I hesitated. “Well, it was just a job. Now I don’t know what it is. A responsibility, I suppose.”
“Okay,” he replied, though there was a resignation in his voice that made the word feel more like “I’m sorry.”
He helped me by drying the teacups, and we packed the blanket.
The Queen signaled to us when she was ready and we boarded the schooner. I opted to walk again, and this time Joshua walked as well. I made sure we were on opposite sides of the wagon, not because I was angry with him, which was a strange thing to admit, but because some illogical part of me wanted to be close to him. Stubbornly, I was not going to let that part of me dictate my actions.
During lunch, we silently passed the time back aboard the schooner, listening to the wheels roll across the road, the crunching of dirt beneath us and the slight squeaking of the axles. I looked up from a sip of water and met Joshua’s eyes. He didn’t turn away. I arched an eyebrow expectantly. Instead of speaking, he smiled, leaned back and took a nap.
We would soon be wagon-less as per our prior agreement. Buck dropped us as far south as he was willing to travel, the border of the Caballus’ lands. Aithos was less than five kilometers away. The land was flat and expansive with golden grass atop rich red soil. So close to paradise, I felt my heart lift with each step.
In the distance, horsemen approached. Four glistening auburn steeds carried four male riders. They would be either a hunting party or surveillance guards. We had reached the outskirts of Aithos by the time they flanked us. It seemed apparent that we had no weapons and were hardly a group that posed a threat.
One of the taller men dismounted, his red cloak swirling around him. “Greetings,” he began.
I stepped forward and outstretched crossed hands to exchange a greeting in the way of the Caballus. He raised his eyebrows in surprise and took my hands.
“I am Abigail Cross, and this is—”
“Abigail the Horse Lover?” he interjected.
I thought perhaps I recognized him. “Yes,” I stammered. I hadn’t been called that since my visit here.
“Welcome back,” he said cordially. “I am Tanlos the Tall.”
; It was fitting, I thought, for I had to arch my neck back to make eye contact. He was even taller than Joshua, whom I noticed took no concern in this. Some men straightened and stretched themselves in the presence of taller men, but Joshua remained at ease.
“This is Madame Q and Joshua Colt,” I concluded. I really had not made an effort to invent a better covert name for her.
The Queen and Joshua took a moment to nod and greet Tanlos with crossed hands.
“Is Laos First Clan Leader available for consultation?” I asked.
Tanlos nodded, but said, “We will see.”
In the standard gracious fashion of the Caballus, three of them offered their horses for us to ride into Aithos and would not hear of any refusal. They escorted us politely and quietly into their village. I sat astride the horse with a simple leather, lightweight saddle beneath me. Though I hadn’t ridden in some time, I felt comfort and calm in the task.
We rode past the horse pastures and stables and into the center of town. Single-story circular red buildings of sand and clay stood open for shopping and dining. There was one tailor shop, one blacksmith shop (mostly for horseshoes), one butcher shop (mostly of antelope; they never ate horse), one tanner shop, one produce store and two diners. We passed all of these and dismounted at the entrance to the dining hall—an enormous rounded, arched building, also of sand and clay, where community meals and meetings were held.
An aging man dressed in a lightweight, vibrant red cloak came to greet us. He must have been informed of visitors only moments before our arrival.
We joined crossed hands in the usual Caballus greeting.
“Abigail the Horse Lover,” began Laos, leader of the First Clan, “I was not aware that your studies would bring you back to Aithos again.”
“They have not,” I explained. “I am here visiting with friends.” We both looked at the Queen and Joshua. “I arrive unannounced and without proper invitation. Do you have room for uninvited guests?”
“Certainly,” he said with a bow.
I returned the bow, grateful for his hospitality. I introduced my companions, Joshua and Madame Q, and he welcomed them with a customary crossed handshake.
