“And so, the magic men and the advisors and the king gathered in this dark cave, and drew circles in the dirt with their blood, and chanted spells and incantations to open the door. They did this for seven days and seven nights. The king was about to despair—when lo!”
I jumped, then bit my cheek. I always jumped at that part…
Gar raised his hands, close together, then slowly spread them apart.
“The stone door in the back of the cave slid open, and a great dark chasm waited behind. None of the advisors or magic men dared to pass through, but the king burned to learn the secret, and so he stepped in.
‘There inside, he came face to face with Death—a towering black shadow clothed in night, leaning on an axe that bore the blood of every mortal who had ever died. The Badi king fell on his face.
‘Who are you?’ Death hissed, in a voice like a thousand snakes. ‘And why have you troubled me? For I am due to wander far and wide tonight, and take up five and twenty lives.’
‘I have come to learn the secret to eternal life,’ said the king. ‘I love my wealth and my life is pleasant, and I never wish to die.’
‘That secret has never been told to any man,’ said Death. ‘For no man has ever been able to match my price.’
‘I can surely match it,’ said the king. ‘For I am the greatest, mightiest ruler that ever lived, and can grant you any request.’
‘Very well,’ said Death. ‘Go home. A fortnight from now, I will come to you, and tell you what you must do.’
And so the king went home in high spirits. But his men and wives could not bear to look at him, for his face bore the look of the dead.”
“What exactly does that look like?” I wondered to Elb. “The look of the dead? How can he look dead and not be dead?”
“Shush!” he nudged me. I flicked his knee, but his attention never faltered from Gar. Gar’s serious eyes flickered with mischief for a moment, then he kept on.
“A fortnight passed, and the king slept well. But then, one night, Death appeared in his chamber. The king fell on his knees before Death, and held out his hands.
‘What must I do?’
‘First, you must pull down the forests—uproot the trees and lay waste to the woods. Life, my great enemy, has a foothold there, and this will be a mighty blow against him. Do as I say, and I will tell you the secret.’
And so the king went out and uprooted the trees. He pulled down the forests and burned them, and turned the woods into a rolling desert where the sun baked the land and the bones of animals came up and bleached white. Then, Death came to him and said:
‘You have done well. But it is not enough.’
‘What else must I do?’ the king asked.
‘You must conquer the great plains, where Life is at his grandest, and you must kill everyone who lives there and bring their heads back to my cave on spits. That is the sacrifice I require.’
And so the king went out and conquered the great plains, slaughtering all of its people, taking off their heads and bringing them to Death’s cave on spits. The rivers ran red with blood, and the Badi swords became dull with the carnage. When none were left alive, Death came to the king and said:
‘You have done well. Now I will tell you the secret: when you are old and full of years, I will come to you. I will wait at your door, and you will see me. Tell your sons to move fast—tell them to wrap you tight in linen and pour oils over you, then place you in an oaken box covered in your finest riches. Tell them to seal you within a chamber and wait for you for seven days. At the end of the seven days, you will rise from the dead as a young man, and you will never die.’
‘I will surely do as you say,’ the king said.
‘But remember,’ Death warned. ‘You must be sealed in the chamber before you breathe your last breath, or you will belong to me.’”
“Uh, oh,” I gave a wicked grin to Elb, who returned it.
“Shush,” Gar said this time. “Anyway…So the king lived to be very old, and when he lay on his death bed, he told his sons what to do. They did as he said, and carried him to the chamber.
“But they did not move quickly enough. The king let out his last breath as he entered the chamber, and the door sealed half a moment too late. Because he had not been burned, his spirit could not be released into the arms of Life. However, neither could he be swallowed by Death, for the bindings and sacred oils that covered his body. Death, in a rage at the imbalance, shook the chamber and collapsed it, killing the king’s sons and wives and children, and burying his wealth.”
I sat still, cold, staring at Gar. This part always chilled me to the bone…
“Now, even to this day,” Gar murmured. “The Badi king’s soul, caught between both Life and Death, is forced to wander for eternity over the desert he created, crying for his sons, for his lost wealth—searching for the gate to Death’s house to beg him to let him die. But Death, who holds a grudge, will not let him in.”
We all sat motionless for a long time. Then, I rubbed my hands up and down my arms.
“That scares me every time,” I admitted. “And on the walk home I have to remind myself that it isn’t true or I will have nightmares.”
“The Badi would tell you different,” Gar said, flicking a twig into the fire. I frowned at him.
“What do you mean?”
He looked at me.
“The Badi believe it’s true. And the search for immortality goes on. Why do you suppose they are so bent on killing everyone?” Gar’s voice lowered as his expression darkened. “Ask anyone and he will tell you it’s so. The Badi are the servants of Death.”
LLL
As the afternoon of the festival deepened and the sunset lit up the sky, flute music and laughing filled the air, as did the smoke of party fires and the aroma of cooking food. Out on the grassy slope in front of the royal house, the entire population of Hilrigard had gathered, dressed in their finest and brightest, to celebrate the first day of spring. The fore part of the lawn was arranged as a dancing glen, and beyond that stood dozens of long tables for the feast. I watched the bustling crowds by my sister’s side, atop the highest step of the royal house. Aeleth was dressed in a pearl-colored gown with beads embroidered into the bodice. Her hair was done up, and white buds surrounded the small silver crown on her head. Her white cheeks were flushed and her blue eyes vibrant. She looked like a new blossom next to my proud-headed mother who, wearing scarlet with her rippling hair draping down to her waist, and bearing a taller silver crown, looked like a rose in full bloom. My mother’s features were sharper, stronger than those of my sister and me. She always carried herself so proudly—a queen without effort. And her sapphire eyes saw everything.
I was wearing the simple blue dress Aeleth had worn earlier to pick berries. It was pretty enough for my taste, and my hair hung down simply, with no adornment except for my own crown, which was just a silver circlet. The only weapon I wore was a long knife in my boot.
The fresh breeze blew through our hair and skirts, bringing the scent of roasting game hen, flowers and incense to me. I took a deep breath and smiled. Horns sounded, and then a flute, lyre and group of singers broke into song, singing a lively spring madrigal. Mother descended the stairs, Aeleth behind, and me last.
We stepped down to the grass yard and into the crowd, and they put out their hands so that Mother and Aeleth would touch them. All of them smiled, and many of them handed my mother and sister flowers. One little girl pressed a posy into my hand, but most of my people just inclined their heads to me. I smiled back, and kept close behind my sister, as always. I caught sight of Elb, since he was so tall, and Gar beside him. I gave them a small wave. They returned it with big waves. I grinned.
We trailed through the people as they called my mother’s name and shouted springtime greetings to their queen. We approached the long table, overhung by an arbor of blooming roses and decked out with silver platters full of fruit and meat. We came around and took our places behind our chairs—Aeleth
beside my mother, and I beside Aeleth.
The brilliant sunset just above a hill before us—gold, orange and red—shone in my eyes, and glittered off the silver goblet my mother raised into the air. At that sign, all the hundreds of people gathered grew silent, and turned toward us.
My mother, her face aglow, smiled and cast her gaze over all of them.
“Friends,” she called, her voice carrying easily over the crowd. “Welcome to Hilrigard! My daughters and I thank you from the depths of our hearts for coming down from the mountains to our home to help us celebrate the long-awaited arrival of spring!”
All of the town cheered, clapped, and tossed flowers high over their heads. I beamed as white petals showered down like snow—they looked pink in this light.
The musicians began to play—it was a lively dancing tune that we all knew. My sister clapped, and I hid a smile as my mother commanded that the dancing begin.
All the young people paired off, and the children and elders backed away, making a circle around the dancing lawn. The partners faced each other, bowed to each other, and then began the dance.
I sat down in a tall wooden chair, as did Aeleth and Mother. I always loved watching the dancing—I was fairly good in practice, but no one ever asked me to be his partner. Elb and Gar had flatly declared dancing to be silly. It was still enjoyable to watch the high leaps of the others—how they spun, and stepped around each other, one arm high, the other lowered, their hands graceful—how they shot stunning smiles at each other, and how the ladies’ skirts and hair streamed out behind them.
My sister kept clapping in time with the dizzying music, and I just smiled, happy to feel the evening breeze, and to smell of the flowers and food on the table.
A young man approached us, coming up to my mother. He was tall, with light brown hair and a short beard, and wore simple but lightly-worn green trousers and tunic. He bowed low to my mother, but glanced up at my sister. I hid behind the vase of flowers to conceal my smirk. This was William.
“My queen,” William said, his head still bowed. “May I have the honor of dancing with your daughter?”
I could feel my mother’s disapproval ripple down the table, but as my sister was not engaged with anyone else, and she clearly wished to join in the dancing, mother sighed, and simply nodded.
Aeleth got up, beaming, and swept around the table, offering her hand to William, who glowed at the sight of her. He led her right into the dance, and soon they were leaping and spinning with the best of them. I sat back in my chair, tapping my fingertips on my armrest, pondering the fact that my mother had not asked William to clarify which daughter he wished to dance with. But then, she never did.
The dance ended, mother and I clapped, and the dancers laughed and bowed to each other. My mother rose to her feet again, and by the look on her face, I knew what was coming. She was about to call the tune—the famous tune beloved by all of us: the springtime welcome my father had written before he went to war a year ago.
The crowd quieted. Aeleth and William stayed side by side, hands clasped, faces flushed. I folded my hands on the table and looked to my mother.
“I have never seen such splendid dancing,” my mother declared, and everyone chuckled. She lifted her bright head and went on.
“I hope to see more as the evening goes on—but I wish all of you would do your best with this one, for it was written by my beloved husband, King Peliar—”
“King Peliar, may he live forever,” all of us echoed.
“—and if he were here, I know he would take particular pleasure in seeing…” My mother trailed off. Her eyes flickered. The smiles faded from the people’s faces. Silence fell.
And then I heard it. Rather, I felt it. The table beneath my hands began to vibrate, ever so slightly—and so did the earth beneath my feet. I stood up.
Now, the sound reached us. It was a low rumble, like distant thunder, or waves upon an unseen shore.
And then a figure appeared on the top of the hill, silhouetted by the stunning orb of the setting sun. It was a man. And he was running as fast as he could.
Cries of alarm rose up as the people turned to see him. The men pulled their women closer. I reached down in my boot and slid out my knife, and set it on the table. He was following the road that none but soldiers ever took—the road that led down to the valley and the Black Steps.
“Aeleth, come here,” Mother commanded, never taking her eyes from the approaching man. Aeleth broke from William and came around the table, eyes wide. I grabbed her arm and put her behind me, keeping hold of her wrist. The rumbling grew stronger.
“Make way!” the stranger shouted, his voice strained with gasping. The crowd parted for him, and he broke through them, staggered, and fell to his knees before our table. I sucked in my breath.
He was bleeding from his blonde head, and his clothes were torn and dirty. But I could still recognize that he wore the leather uniform of one of our father’s soldiers.
“Who are you?” my mother demanded, fire and ice at the same time. The young man lifted his head. His face was streaked with sweat, and his eyes were glazed over. He could barely speak because every breath rasped in his throat.
“My queen, we are undone,” he managed. My mother stilled for just one instant. Then, she narrowed her eyes.
“Speak plainly.”
“I am, my lady,” he swayed forward, but caught himself. “We received word that the army was taken by surprise by Niro, king of the Badi, on the plains of Seshem. They surrounded them and routed them, and drove them east. From there, they were pursued by his son, Prince Rajak, as Niro left off to fight the plains kingdom. It was not ten miles hence that King Peliar was shot with five arrows.”
I went cold.
Father…
A shudder ran through me, and I would have sat down if Aeleth had not clamped down on my arm with all her force.
My mother went ash white. But she spoke.
“Who survives?”
“Only I do, my lady,” the soldier fell forward onto his hands. “I managed to escape so that I could come here…and tell you to flee.”
“What of the garrisons at the Black Steps?” my mother snapped. “What of the watchtowers of the Twin Hills and in the—”
The man was already shaking his head.
“Overwhelmed, my queen. That is where I was stationed. Rajak’s army is all on horseback, with siege engines that can demolish our watchtowers with a single blow. We tried to muster in time to meet them, but they came so quickly…like lightning…”
“How could Niro’s army overwhelm five-thousand men?”my mother demanded—but she was leaning on the table now, too. I felt distant, as if I was watching myself from above. The runner gathered himself, shaking his head again.
“They captured the water, and would not let our army near it,” he said. “And they are all deadly with a bow—Rajak most of all. They shot down anyone who tried to take word to you.”
Faraway cries came over the hills—cries urging horses forward. I swallowed. I recognized the sound, now: horse hooves. Thousands of them.
“And my lady,” the messenger sighed, his brow furrowing, his eyes tired. “They say that Prince Rajak is steps away from finding the key.”
I had no idea what he meant. But my mother did—I could see it in her frame. My sister trembled behind me, and did not let me go. My mother lifted her eyes to the top of the hill, to the blazing sun: the place where the Badi army would appear.
“And now they are going to kill us all,” Mother murmured. The runner did not answer. My mother’s jaw tightened.
“We will not flee only to be shot in the back. If that animal that likes to call himself a prince wishes to slaughter us, he will look us in the eyes.”
Mother stepped around the table and passed the runner, her train whispering over the grass. I stayed where I was, my gut twisting as if I had been stabbed there.
“Oh, Linnet,” Aeleth whimpered just behind me. “Father—” Her throat sh
ut, and I felt her lean her forehead against the back of my hair. My lower lip trembled. I kept my eyes fixed on my mother.
The men closed in behind their queen, and she stopped in the middle of the crowd, facing the west. I held my breath.
The top of a spear appeared, rising up over the edge of the nearby hill, and with it came the figure of a man on horseback, black against the blaze of the sun. Beside him came another, and another, until the entire horizon was lined with horsemen. And then they poured over the hill, like a slow, inky flood, the thunder of their hooves shaking the stones.
They spread out, covering the road and then some, gravel crunching beneath. They passed the border of the town—spilled between the blacksmith, the baker and the tanner’s buildings like lava between stones.
As they neared, and came out of the shadow, I could see their forms better. I had never seen the Badi—I had only been left to imagine. But what I beheld was worse than even my nightmares.
They all rode sleek, black, armored horses, and wore black clothes and leather breastplates, bore gleaming bronze shields and shining black helmets with red plumes. Long, curved swords hung from their belts, bows rested across their shoulders, and they also carried long, spiked spears. The skin of their faces and hands was dark, tanned, and their eyes like night.
The two men at the front of the company drew my attention. They both wore black, high-collared, long-sleeved tunics and black trousers and boots like the others, but one had a scarlet stripe across his chest, and the other…
The other’s horse was decked in gold, and he jingled with every step. The man’s tunic was embroidered with swirling red patterns, and his helmet bore red jewels and hammered gold atop the black metal. I could not see his face, but I knew who he had to be.
Prince Rajak.
The first man, the one with the scarlet stripe, lifted a hand, and the vast army drew to a halt. Horses snorted and stamped, and tossed their heads. Harnesses jangled. My people stood still.
Linnet and the Prince Page 2
