by Sally Green
Geratan really has to learn to be quiet!
But then Tash realized the noise wasn’t coming from behind her. The demons seemed to have heard the sound too and their singing stopped. Some demons were pointing to one of the lowest terraces and then they all began to move, touching each other to communicate. And all the time the regular chime grew louder and louder.
The demons were all watching one of the entrances to the lower terrace.
The noise was now echoing around the great cavern. Tash covered her ears but she heard a voice in her head. What’s happening? Geratan had dropped back by Tash’s side.
They got their answer. From out of a tunnel on a lower terrace came a column of soldiers, marching quickly with small steps, and with each step every soldier was banging the hilt of his short sword on the small round shield held at his chest.
Brigantines!
How did they find their way here? What are they doing here? Tash wondered.
But the answer was the same as it always was with Brigantine soldiers. They were here to fight. And the fight had already begun. The demons ran at the invaders, and launched wildly at them, ripping into them, screaming horrific noises. A man’s helmeted head was thrown through the air into the central hole. Some demons fell and some picked up swords from fallen soldiers. But more soldiers came. Red and purple smoke from the dead demons hid some of what was happening, but the noise continued to grow and Tash had to block her ears with her fingers.
The smoke swirled away and into the central well, revealing that the demons were pushing the soldiers back into the tunnel.
The demons are winning, Tash thought.
Geratan glanced at her. I’m not so sure.
And more soldiers appeared through tunnels higher up, throwing spears on to the demons below, and again red smoke swirled around as soldiers swarmed down the terraces like an army of ants. Some soldiers died, brutally ripped apart or thrown into the air, but there were more soldiers than demons.
The Brigantines are well organized, observed Geratan. They aren’t surprised by the demons at all.
Indeed, they seemed to relish the fight; they had come prepared for it. The demons retreated across the cavern and up the terraces, some coming Tash’s way, and drawing the soldiers up. She looked to the side and realized some soldiers were already on her terrace.
Quick. Get out of sight! Tash scrambled back into the tunnel, pulling Geratan with her. They retreated past a curve in the tunnel so they were hidden from the entrance. That was close. Do you think they saw us?
Not sure. Geratan drew his dagger and short sword.
We should keep going back.
No. This is a good spot. Let me deal with this, Tash.
So you think they did see us?
Listen.
The clanging sounds of the demons and soldiers were distant, but there was another, higher, sound and it was getting louder. Chink. Chink. Chink.
A regular beat. A regular step! And it was getting faster now as a Brigantine soldier appeared in the tunnel and came at them. Tash moved back but Geratan ran to meet the soldier, and then he pushed off the wall and leaped high to land behind the man, who was still coming at Tash, but also looking behind for Geratan and swiping wildly with his short sword. The soldier was too slow. He was already mortally wounded and his knees buckled, Geratan’s dagger in the base of his neck.
The man fell on his stomach, blood seeping out of him. Geratan retrieved his dagger and came to Tash, taking her hand to ask, Are you all right?
Yes. Course. It’s just another dead person.
Tash?
Don’t “Tash” me! Just tell me what to do now.
I need to see what the Brigantines are doing. You wait here.
No way! I’m not waiting with a dead body in a demon tunnel on my own.
They headed back to the terrace.
It’s gone quiet. Is the battle over? Tash wondered as she peered down into the cavern.
Most of the demons had disappeared, apart from a few on the terraces on the opposite side of the cavern to the Brigantines. They seemed to be watching what the Brigantines were doing, just as Tash and Geratan were. The Brigantines had established themselves on the lower terraces. But at the very bottom, among the soldiers, someone new caught Tash’s eye. Someone small and slim. She touched Geratan’s arm and pointed. There’s a girl down there with them.
A soldier was standing over the girl. But there was something about her—the way she stood with her legs a little apart and looked ahead without any concern. She didn’t act like a prisoner. She didn’t seem afraid at all.
Two soldiers ran to the girl and the soldier with her. They stopped in front of them and held out their bare arms. The girl touched the bare arm of the man next to her and then let go of him and he touched the two men, who then ran off down two separate tunnels.
She’s communicating with them, Geratan thought.
It’s as if she’s telling them what to do.
No. The soldier with her is the most senior. He’s in charge.
So what’s she doing? Tash asked.
I don’t know. I think she might be giving them advice. What else could it be?
Advice on the tunnels or the demons?
Maybe both?
Tash was surprised and irritated. She’d thought she’d be the girl to learn about the demon tunnels, but it seemed someone else knew about them first.
Then out of one of the tunnels some Brigantine soldiers pulled a handcart laden with dead bodies. The dead bodies of Pitorian soldiers—all with blue hair. These were the prince’s men.
This place had seemed dangerous and mysterious before, but now it was turning into some kind of hell.
Another cart appeared. The carts were more like large barrows, each pulled by two men and laden with four or five bodies. They were trundled along the terraces, and all of a sudden it made sense. Geratan was the one who voiced it first. They’re going to throw the bodies into the hole. They’re going to make more demons.
Tash finished his thought. But they don’t want the demons. They want the purple smoke!
The Brigantines would be able to get as much purple smoke as they liked if they threw in all those bodies. Purple demons would soon come out and they’d immediately be killed and their powerful smoke collected.
Tash clung to Geratan’s hand, and she told him the horrifying truth that they’d both realized. They’re farming the smoke.
CATHERINE
DONNAFON, NORTHERN PITORIA
At each social engagement have a purpose—to find a piece of information, a connection, a love, a hate, a motive. Only the weak socialize for pleasure.
The King, Nicolas Montell
CATHERINE HAD been busy since her arrival in Donnafon three days earlier. She’d written a formal letter to Prince Thelonius explaining the situation, and also a letter to his ambassador in Tornia. She’d been swamped with offers of money, aid, and food as soon as it was known she would be queen, and the stream of people had grown each day. The worst thing of all was that she had to arrange the funeral of the king.
And now she was preparing for her first formal dinner with Donnell and all the lords who were stationed at the front. It would be interesting to see who would turn up. Would Farrow appear? Catherine knew she had to be at her best and most alert, but she was exhausted. She’d hardly slept, each night the worry about her position tormenting her. She’d not seen Ambrose at all since she’d declared she was married. Rafyon had told her, “He’s tired, Your Highness. The trek has exhausted him.” Tanya had confirmed that she’d heard he was in his bed, in his room at the opposite end of the guest house.
As Tanya massaged oil into Catherine’s still-sore feet after her bath, Catherine asked, “Any news of Sir Ambrose? Will he escort me to dinner this evening?”
“I’m not sure if he’s recover
ed.”
“Recovered from his ‘illness’ or recovered from the shock of my marriage?”
Tanya rubbed harder and Catherine yelped. “I should tell you that the first night we were here Ambrose asked me about the marriage. Asked me to confirm if it was true or not.”
“And you confirmed it? Just as I told you to?”
“Yes, of course. And he believed me.”
“So why didn’t you tell me until now?”
Tanya replied in a voice barely above a whisper, “Emotions were running high. All our lives are in the balance. Sir Ambrose didn’t seem himself. And I didn’t want you to worry. I think it’s better for the moment that you don’t see each other—better that he stays in his sickbed. He won’t die of a broken heart, but we will all die if he reveals the lie.”
“He has a broken heart?” Catherine had been so fearful that people wouldn’t believe her. Now she feared for Ambrose.
“It’ll mend.”
“He’s been hurt so much, though. He’s lost all his family. He’s alone here, as am I.”
“And he puts us all at risk if he shows you affection. You are the wife of the prince. You will be crowned queen if the prince is returned alive. You were too close to Ambrose on the Northern Plateau, and you can’t afford for your affection for him to be seen by anyone here. If you say you’re the prince’s wife, you have to act like it. You have to act like a queen.”
Catherine knew Tanya was right—those were the sort of sentiments her mother, queen of Brigant, would have had. Wise words but painful to act on. She had to stay strong, though. She had claimed the title of Queen Apparent, meaning she’d be crowned only if and when Prince Tzsayn was returned and was crowned king. And for now Queen Apparent was the most senior position in the land—she was above all the lords, and the purple-hairs and blue-hairs reported to her. At least that was the official line, though the reality was much more complex.
The army generals had come up with a range of excuses not to see her, and wouldn’t be able to attend tonight’s dinner. Davyon said that they were struggling to come to terms with having a woman as head of the army. So she had decided to help them come to terms with it by planning a surprise visit to her troops at the front tomorrow.
Meanwhile Catherine was sure that Farrow would be drawing as many lords to him as possible—though she’d learn more this evening.
“Tell me something to cheer me up. Is there any good news?”
“There’s lots of talk about you in the kitchens.”
“Is that good?”
Tanya carried on massaging Catherine’s feet. “The younger kitchen maids are very excited that a woman can lead troops, the older maids laugh or merely shrug, and the men say the army is doomed.”
“It’ll be interesting to hear what the prince’s generals think.”
“Are you going to meet them? I thought we might be heading south, to Tornia, away from the war.”
Catherine was sure that Tanya knew what her answer would be. “The real power is here in the north for the moment. All of the blue-hairs are at the front—though they’re much depleted in number after Rossarb. They are my real force. The purple-hairs will only follow the king when he’s crowned—so for the moment they are waiting to see what happens and most remain in Tornia and in the coastal defenses.”
“So many different hair colors! I think I should dye mine. But do I choose blue, purple, or white to show my allegiance to you?”
Catherine smiled. “White is still my color. I’m not going to change that.” But that gave her another thought. “Though perhaps it’s best only to take blue-hairs with me when I see my army tomorrow.”
“Will you wear a uniform?”
Tanya was teasing again, but Catherine thought it was a good question. “Do you think I could wear trousers? A man’s jacket?”
“Why not? You’re queen. You set the fashion.”
“I need to decide what I should wear this evening first,” she replied. Tanya had had the clothes from the plateau burned, and Lady Donnell had sent some of her dresses. Tanya had made an excellent job of adjusting them, as Lady Donnell was rather large and not a close follower of the Tornia fashions, though the color and the quality of the silk were excellent.
Pink was the Donnell color, so for the evening Catherine dressed in a pale-pink silk dress rather than her white or pale gray, but in candlelight it looked beautifully luminescent. She still had her jewelry. But the diamond and gold necklace her father had given her didn’t sit well at the neck so Tanya sewed it onto the shoulder and it looked like it had been designed just for that purpose. Catherine put on her pearl earrings and pearl bracelets, while Tanya weaved wissun blossom into Catherine’s hair.
When the time came to go to dinner, Tanya called for the guard to escort Catherine and it was Ambrose who appeared in the doorway. Catherine was taken aback, though she managed a smile. “It’s good to see you, Sir Ambrose. I’m glad you’re recovered.”
But, although his clothes were clean and his boots shone with polish, his face was pale and expressionless. “It’s my duty to protect you.” His voice was flat and lacking even the emotion of a devoted soldier.
“Thank goodness it’s not your duty to be cheerful,” she replied as she set off for the hall.
“Thank goodness you’ve had time and energy to spend on your dress,” he muttered as he strode alongside her. “The wife of Prince Tzsayn must ensure she wears the height of fashion at all times. I wasn’t sure if you’d be wearing blue, or purple, or a sword and armor as you have so many new roles.”
“A sword and armor might be more appropriate for a conversation with you, Sir Ambrose! And a horse too, as you’re going so fast.” Catherine slowed—he was there to go at her pace, not she at his. He turned and waited, though didn’t meet her gaze.
She sauntered up to him. “So, what is the gossip in the soldiers’ quarters today? Are they looking forward to following a woman into battle?”
“The soldiers don’t gossip. But, in all seriousness, I think most people find it hard to imagine that a woman could head the army.”
“‘Most people’ being men.”
“‘Most people’ being most people.”
“And what do you think?”
“I think you have enough challenges without drawing more enemies.”
“But I need the army to protect me. You know this, Ambrose. You know I’m in danger.”
“Yes, I know, but don’t for one moment think that because you lead them they will follow or protect you. You must win them to you. Find the ones to trust.”
“I trust you. Above all others I trust you, Sir Ambrose. Am I wrong to do so?”
Ambrose moved closer to Catherine as he replied. “You didn’t trust me enough to tell me about your marriage. You let me learn of it with everyone else in a hall full of strangers. You haven’t called me to you since then to explain. You don’t tell me anything. Do you really trust me?”
Catherine wasn’t sure what she could say, but she had no time to reply as they had reached the dining hall, where Rafyon and Davyon were waiting.
Ambrose said, “If you don’t mind, Your Highness, I’ll not be dining with you. The castle’s layout is complex and there are many passages; I need to get to know them better.”
Catherine watched him stride away, and she knew it was wise to let him go. She needed to show her allegiance to Tzsayn and for that it would be easier to have General Davyon rather than Ambrose by her side.
Davyon’s hair was bright blue and he was as sharply dressed as the dresser general to a prince could be expected to be. He held his head high and his arm out as he said, “May I escort you in to dinner, Your Highness?”
Catherine was introduced to a number of lords who had come from the front. Farrow hadn’t come but had sent an excuse that he was busy—designed as an insult, no doubt. But all the o
ther lords who had been invited were there, though none of the blue-haired generals had managed to extricate themselves from other important matters.
She was seated at the end of a long table, Lord Donnell to her right and next to him was Davyon; Lady Donnell was to her left. She wasn’t going to get the chance to talk to the lords but it was enough that they had come. That showed they weren’t going to push for her arrest, that they’d accepted her marriage.
The conversation with Lord Donnell the night before had been a dull discussion of the town, the historic library, and the family lineage on Donnell’s part, and an account of what had happened in Rossarb on Catherine’s. She’d been forced to describe her wedding, and Davyon had helped by naming six other witnesses, all of whom were dead. Lord and Lady Donnell seemed to have no problem believing the story, so tonight Catherine was feeling more confident about discussing weddings.
Catherine began the conversation by saying, “Last night you mentioned that you don’t often leave here, Lord Donnell. Were you not invited to Tornia for my marriage to Prince Tzsayn?”
“Yes, Your Highness, we were honored to be invited and gladly made the journey, though it took several days of riding.”
“But, may I ask . . . were you in the banqueting hall when the assassins struck? It must have been terrifying.”
“Fortunately we’d retired early that evening. We were in our rooms at a distance from there.”
Lady Donnell added, “You know how huge that castle is, and we were rather to the rear of it.”
Lord Donnell nodded. “We’re considered somewhat unfashionable, being from the poor north, so we’re often given the quieter rooms.”
“Quieter, smaller, less prestigious. I’m talking about our rooms, of course.” Lady Donnell smiled at Catherine. “Actually, the rooms were northern too. We were so far to the north that we were almost home again.”
Catherine grinned at Lady Donnell’s sharpness. “Well, I’m relieved to hear you were safe.”
“Quite safe. No assassin ventured so far.”
Lord Donnell said, “They probably didn’t think anyone important could be in such a lowly part of the castle. And they’d be right. We are not influential at all.”
