The Blacksmith Queen

by Aiken G. A.

  Mum was busy fighting off three soldiers on foot with her two swords.

  Coming up behind the men, Gemma beheaded one and disemboweled another. Her mother buried one of her blades into the third’s belly.

  Sheathing her swords, Gemma picked up one of the toddlers who she knew couldn’t keep up. She motioned to Beatrix to take the other, which she did but not before she rolled her eyes and sighed a bit.

  Gemma struggled to contain her annoyance, knowing this wasn’t the time or place.

  With the toddler in her arms, she started to run back toward the house. That’s when she saw Keran and Samuel.

  “Take them!” she ordered, handing the toddler to Samuel and motioning for Beatrix to give him the boy, not wanting to risk her dropping him. “Keran! Watch the younger ones! And move! Everyone move!”

  When they all ran toward the house, Gemma returned to the last three men she’d killed. She crouched by them and chanted the song of death, draining the land around her of its essence and putting it into the bodies of these men. They all stood and she pointed at the remaining soldiers battling the centaurs.

  The abominations ran toward the fight, their weapons drawn, and Gemma yelled out, “Laila! Get out of there!”

  Then, without waiting to see if the centaurs followed her order, Gemma raced after her family.

  * * *

  Keeley battered another man out of her way and took off around the house to get to her family. As she cleared the corner, she ran into more enemies. Startled, she immediately raised her hammer and yelled in rage. So did her enemy.

  Then they both stopped.

  “Gemma?”

  “Oh. It’s you.” Gemma lowered her sword. “Thank the gods.” Keeley stared at her sister. “You’re a War Monk?”

  “Is this really the time to discuss it?”

  “You’re right.” Keeley lifted her hammer again to strike her sister down.

  “Keeley Smythe!” her mother snapped. “You put that hammer down right this second!”

  “She’s a necromancer!”

  “She’s your sister,” her mother reminded her.

  And Keeley knew her mother was right. Despite whatever had set her sister on this path, they were still blood. And family was all.

  “Fine.” Keeley lowered the hammer. “Sorry,” she bit out.

  Gemma hissed and pushed past her.

  But before Keeley could rip her judgey little head off, her mother grabbed her by the back of the neck and whispered against her ear, “She’s your sister, you love her, and nothing will come between you two. Understand?” When Keeley didn’t answer quick enough, her mother squeezed. “Understand?”

  “Yes.”

  Her mother followed after the rest, but before Keeley could move, Beatrix caught her arm.

  “What’s going on?” her sister demanded.

  “Beatrix—”

  “Now,” she pushed.

  “Fine. You’re the future queen.”

  “Ahhh. I see,” Beatrix replied, her expression never changing. That reaction bothered Keeley but she didn’t have time to figure out why. “And the men attacking here today . . . ?”

  “Mercenaries of Straton the Devourer.”

  “Not the oldest, then?”

  A strange question, but... “No. I saw the crest. It’s the Devourer.”

  “Huh. Interesting.”

  Was it?

  Keeley took her sister’s hand. “Don’t worry. You know I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  Beatrix studied Keeley’s hand, then looked up into her face. She gave a small smile. “Of course you won’t.”

  * * *

  “Are you sure about this, Da?” Keeley asked her father, her hand pressed against his back.

  Caid wanted to give them more privacy but he stayed close. For their safety.

  “I’m sure. But I can’t do it myself.”

  “Don’t worry about that.” Keeley kissed her father’s cheek. “Go help Mum get on the horse. You know she hates riding.”

  Angus grunted and walked away from the small farmhouse he’d bought with every penny of the money he’d saved during his time as a soldier. A house his entire family had been living in for years. Once he’d disappeared behind the stables, Keeley glanced at her War Monk sister.

  “I can do it,” Caid offered.

  “No,” Keeley replied. “This is up to us.”

  She nocked an arrow, aimed the weapon, and waited.

  Her sister placed her thumb and forefinger on the arrowhead and softly spoke a spell. A flame flared and Gemma stepped back to her sister’s side. Keeley’s gaze stayed on her the entire time until she said, “That’s completely normal.”

  Gemma’s jaw tensed and she snarled, “If what you’re asking is whether I am pure evil, I’m not. But should that change at any time”—she locked a vicious glare on Keeley—“trust me when I say that you will be the first to know.”

  Caid cringed a bit, worried that at some point he’d be preventing one of these sisters from killing the other.

  Keeley let the arrow fly and it went through the open door of the house. Their father had doused the lower floor in ale and the entire thing was covered in flames in less than a minute. He’d already set fire to all the crops and released the animals. Only the horses that hadn’t run too far from the stables would continue to be used by the family.

  Gemma stormed away from her sister and Keeley handed the bow back to him.

  “Thanks for that.”

  “Of course.”

  “I don’t know if there will be enough horses for all of us,” she said as they walked toward the stables. “Mind if I catch a ride?”

  Caid stopped walking, faced her. “Really?”

  She blinked up at him. “I’m . . . I’m sorry. I was just joking.”

  “That’s the kind of joke that makes some of my people very angry. Especially my sister. Don’t let her easy ways fool you. She has a bit of a temper.”

  “I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just . . . my heart is breaking because I know my father’s heart is breaking. And there’s nothing I can do to help him.”

  Realizing that she wasn’t mocking him or being cruel, Caid immediately felt bad. This was why he rarely dealt with people. Most greatly annoyed him and he wasn’t very good at hiding that annoyance. But Keeley, much like her father, didn’t annoy him much at all. There was something so earnest about her. So open. She didn’t seem to hide anything from anyone.

  “I don’t know your family well,” Caid carefully told her, “but I truly think the only thing your father cares about is that his children and wife are alive and well.”

  Keeley nodded. “I’m sure you’re right.”

  They began walking toward the stables again.

  “Who taught you to fight like that?” he asked, suddenly irritated by the abrupt silence between them. “Your mother or father?”

  “Both. My father was a soldier. For the Old King’s armies. Many years ago. He always said, ‘I know what soldiers do when they have free rein. I don’t want that for my daughters.’ And my mother was a firm believer that it’s a poor blacksmith who doesn’t know how to wield her own weapons.”

  “Well, they did a fine job with you and your sister.”

  “My parents taught Gemma how to wield weapons but that other shit...? She learned that from someone else.” Keeley rubbed her forehead but all she did was smear the blood around. “Do you know anything about War Monks?”

  Caid opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again . . . let out a long breath.

  Keeley raised her hands. “Forget I asked.”

  “No, it’s not that bad. It’s just—”

  “No. Don’t even bother. We both heard the screams of those mercenaries. Cold-blooded men who kill for sport and gold and yet my much-shorter sister sent them into a panic. I think that says all I need to know.”

  They neared the others, who were already mounted and ready to go. The smallest children being held by a si
bling or parent.

  “Where are we going?” she asked him.

  “That’s up to you. We need to take your family someplace safe.”

  “But I thought—”

  “The children can’t come.”

  Keeley stopped. “I will not leave Beatrix. Do you understand?”

  “Of course. But you don’t want your brothers and sisters around the Witches of Amhuinn. It’s simply not wise.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “But we should move. In case more of Straton’s men come.”

  Keeley started walking again but she was suddenly nudged forward; the gray mare stood behind her.

  She petted the head of her friend, whispered to her. “You poor thing. I don’t want to leave you.”

  “I don’t think you’re supposed to.”

  Keeley frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “She wants revenge. Not just on the ones who killed her son, but on those who destroyed her life. She thinks you can give that to her.” Caid glanced at the mare. “She’s offering her services. As your war mount.”

  Keeley looked over her shoulder at Beatrix. Her sister sat sidesaddle on a small mare. Back straight, brown hair reaching past her hips, already looking the part of a royal. She wasn’t exactly what Caid would call “pretty.” And there was something off about her. Something he felt was missing.

  It didn’t matter, though, did it? She’d been chosen for a reason and, once she had the witches’ blessing, then war would come. There was no way around it. Not with the Old King’s sons fighting for that crown.

  Keeley placed her hands on the gray mare’s massive jaw and lifted her head. “Ride with me into battle and I will do my best to give you the revenge you seek. Fair enough?”

  The mare trotted over to the rest of the family, stopping in front of Keeley’s father.

  Confused, Keeley looked up at him.

  “Get your saddle,” Caid told her. “She’s waiting for you.”

  * * *

  Straton stared over the edge of the pit where a good number of his hired men and their horses had been burned alive.

  “What kind of people are these?” his general demanded.

  “Clearly not the kind we were expecting,” Straton remarked as he stepped away from the pit, unable to stand the smell another second.

  “I thought these were farmers,” the general snapped at one of his men.

  “They are.” Straton looked around at what remained of the family’s farm. “What annoys me is that I can’t even burn this place down out of spite. They’ve already done that.”

  His general came to his side. “Prince Straton, I promise—”

  “I don’t want to hear it,” Straton cut in. “Just find them. Now.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “What if they split up?” another soldier asked.

  “Track the girl,” he spit out. “We can kill her family at a later time. I need that girl dead. Don’t come back until she is.”

  CHAPTER 7

  The family traveled for three solid days, with Angus leading the way. Caid and his unit stayed in their natural forms and shadowed the family as they moved along.

  The plan, as far as Caid knew from his sister, was to take the family someplace they deemed safe and then to take Beatrix to the witches for the confirmation.

  Once she was consecrated as queen, the next steps would be decided by Beatrix herself. Until then, Laila was in charge. But she was letting the family believe otherwise. The situation was already tense. The first night had been hard, with the youngest children scared and crying. The older ones bickering and nervous, worried they were about to be attacked.

  They weren’t. But Caid was sure they were being tracked. The second night, though, Caid and Farlan handled the two trackers the Devourer had sent out, burying their bodies deep so the next set of trackers wouldn’t be able to find them.

  By the third night, they arrived at their destination: a castle complete with moat that was high on a hill with the sea at its back.

  “You have royal friends?” Caid asked Keeley, who’d been surprisingly quiet the entire trip unless she was attempting to soothe her young siblings.

  She laughed. The first he’d heard from her in days. “Hardly.”

  Angus rode until he reached the moat; the metal gate was closed against any intruders.

  “Oy!” he called up to the towers. “Archibald!”

  They waited but no one came. Not surprising to Caid. Who knew where inside that castle this Archibald was? He could be asleep in his bed or the kitchens in the back of the castle.

  “We could be here all night,” his sister complained to him.

  She was right. They could easily be here all night. Longer if this Archibald was actually dead.

  Angus glanced at his wife and, after a sigh, yelled out, “I know you see us, you bastard! Just open the fucking gate!”

  He came out of the darkness. A giant of a man. Bigger than Angus, it seemed. Long red hair in a braid that hung over his massive shoulder, a steel helm with horns on his very large head, and what Caid could only call insane blue eyes gazing down at them.

  “Good gods,” Laila muttered.

  “Why should I let you in, you fucking bastard!”

  “Because you owe me!”

  “I owe you shit!”

  Keeley and Gemma both rolled their eyes, and their heads fell back in irritation. For once, they looked alike; but they didn’t know it.

  “You open this fucking gate, or I’ll tear it down with my bare hands!”

  “Just try, you arrogant cunt!”

  “That is it!” Emma bellowed. Her horse took her close to her husband. “Both of you stop this! Please!” She looked up at the giant man. “Hello, Archibald.”

  “My dear sweet Emma?” The large man’s voice changed, and Caid cringed at the neediness in it. “Is that you?”

  “Of course.”

  “It’s been so long.”

  “Oh, please,” Angus growled out.

  Emma punched his shoulder before replying to Archibald, “Could you open the gate? For me? Please?”

  “What about him?” Archibald snarled. “Am I safe?”

  “No!” Angus snapped.

  “Yes!” Emma said over her husband. “You have my word.”

  Archibald took his time, but finally replied, “Fine.”

  When he disappeared into the darkness again, Emma turned in her saddle to say to her husband, “Could you please stop being a horse’s ass?”

  “He started it. He always starts it.”

  “I don’t care who started what. I just want our children safe. Remember them? Your little bastards?”

  “Of course I remember—”

  “Then give me your word.”

  “But—”

  “Angus, I swear by all that is unholy—”

  “Fine.” He cracked his neck and shoulders. “I will do my best not to remind him what a worthless cunt he is.”

  “That’s all I ask.”

  The drawbridge was slowly lowered and Caid couldn’t help but ask Keeley, “Is Archibald a royal?”

  “Hardly,” she repeated.

  “Then who is he?”

  “Our uncle. My father’s brother.”

  “They seem very angry at each other.”

  “They are. They both wanted the same thing, but only one could get it.”

  “Your mother?” he asked softly.

  “No,” Keeley answered. “The family axe.”

  “The . . . the family axe?”

  “Uncle Archie got the axe. Then my father got my mother. And they’ve never let each other forget it.”

  The drawbridge landed and the family rode across it, heading into the courtyard.

  Caid and Laila held back a bit, making sure there was no one behind them. When they felt it was safe enough, they followed.

  As they walked across, Caid said to his sister, “You know, the longer we know this family—”

&nb
sp; “Yes. It’s true. Our kin is not nearly as insane as our father insists we are.”

  * * *

  Before her mother could dismount from her horse, Uncle Archie was there—his fierce helm tossed aside—wrapping his hands around her waist and lifting her down.

  “My sweet, sweet Emma,” he growled, pulling her into his arms.

  Keeley jumped off the gray mare and ran—literally ran—to her father’s side and grabbed his arm. Gemma grabbed the other, and it was only the raw strength of a blacksmith and a knight that kept him from beating their uncle to death.

  Once Uncle Archie got their mum onto the ground, he moved his hand to her waist and led her toward the castle door.

  “Come, my sweet Emma,” Archie urged. “I have a lovely axe to show you.”

  That set their father into a tailspin of even more rage, but Keeley fought hard to keep him under control.

  “Please, Da,” she begged. “We need him.”

  “No, we don’t. I’ll kill him and this place will be ours as long as we like!”

  “Daddy, that’s a horrible thing to say.” Gemma placed her hands on his chest and pushed their father back a few feet. “You need to find a way to get along with Uncle Archie.”

  “I’d rather set us both on fire!”

  “That’s enough, Da!” Keeley stood beside Gemma. “You two are brothers. You shouldn’t be doing all this ridiculous bickering over nothing.”

  “She’s absolutely right, Daddy.”

  Her father stared at her, stared at her sister, and then said, “Are you two fucking kidding me?”

  * * *

  Caid walked into the castle. It was the kind of place humans liked to live in. Made of stone with high ceilings but no matter how high they were, it didn’t change the fact that they were still trapped inside. Trapped like rats in a hole in the wall.

  That was not for centaurs. They had tents. Some had yurts. They all had roofs, but they had roofs they could walk away from anytime they wanted. Anytime they needed. He couldn’t imagine living in one place without ever moving. Without ever venturing out far and wide.

  But for what they needed right now . . . this place would do.

  “Here it is,” Archibald was saying, pointing out an old, battered tree axe that was pinned to the stone wall above the big fireplace. “The family axe.”

  Laila came from behind the big stairs that led to the upper floors. “There’s no one here,” she whispered.