The Savage War

by Esther Wallace

  Looking away, the princess sighed. “Father doesn’t believe that anything higher than a human exists, period, but I disagree. There’s an evil intent thrown against us, far more powerful than us. I can feel it. There are things out there—things beyond our sight. I can’t ignore them, and I’m scared, Arnacin. Terribly.”

  Gently, Arnacin reached across the table and squeezed her hand, whispering, “You needn’t be, Valoretta, when you know where to turn.”

  As the day of the wedding drew near, Valoretta grew increasingly apprehensive. Finally, the night before the wedding, she asked Sara to see if the king would speak privately with his daughter.

  After the king agreed to see her, Valoretta wasted no time in coming to her point. “Vemose only wishes to rob Mira of its wealth. Prince Harmin practically said it himself.”

  “Yes, I know.” Miro simply shrugged, putting aside his work to meet her distressed gaze. Before she could make any exclamation, he explained, “It’s the fact that they think to gain so much from this, that it’s at all possible.”

  “So, you’ve lied about the arrangements?” the princess asked disgustedly.

  “No—rather, they have. The proposal suggested that the marriage would give troops for gold with no fear of debt to one kingdom or the other. Our spies tell us they are struggling financially. We struggle with population, particularly young men.

  “What made them agree so readily, however, is that they think they can completely claim Mira and its vast riches as part of Vemose, come your marriage. Moreover, our agreement is so perfect because they also do not want Rosa to bear children, particularly not any sons. If so, your marriage is obsolete. The next king will be Miran. Therefore, there will be no outrage if they overhear that I have no intention of bonding with the girl.”

  “What happens when they realize I will never marry their prince and your lack of bonding means she won’t convince you of anything, either? Could they not demand war for the outrage to their princess?”

  “Anyone can declare war, Valoretta, but since they never set that as part of their agreement and they don’t want to interfere with their own plans for you to remain the heir, there is no actual obligation that we do otherwise. They would simply break their alliance and former peace treaty by so doing.”

  Nodding slowly, Valoretta compressed her lips. Yet as her father continued to watch her, she swallowed her disappointment, asking as if she completely agreed, “Was all this manipulation your idea or must I thank someone else?”

  “I have the strange feeling you want to know for other reasons than to thank everyone involved.”

  With an innocent smile, the princess stated off-handedly, “Only to make sure which councilors I should exile for being dangerously clever.”

  Smiling slightly, the king nodded. “I suppose I’ll need to guarantee I outlive Carpason.”

  “Indeed, if it wasn’t for the fact that I trust him.”

  “Then we have that settled. You must remember, Valoretta, that your duty to your kingdom comes first in everything. This had to be done, for Mira. There were no other options.”

  “I understand,” Valoretta truthfully replied.

  Throughout the day, visiting ships had dropped anchor in Mira’s harbor after braving the winter storms, all in the name of alliances. All the castle’s rooms were full to the point that Arnacin offered his room to be used for guests while he happily took blankets and a pillow to his ship. That night’s activities started early, first with the wedding ceremony and then, Arnacin supposed, with whatever usually happened after such an event. The islander himself, however, did not even watch the rite and, when the corridors became too busy with the hustling traffic of servants, he slipped into the empty, snow-lit courtyard.

  It was around midnight when he heard the soft swish of skirts over snow carpeting and turned to see Valoretta approaching him. Noticing her bare shoulders and white forearms, the islander shook his head, stating, “Valoretta, you’ll freeze out here.”

  “I couldn’t take any more of Prince Harman’s company and Sara would realize what I was up to if I tried to fetch my cloak, so I simply feigned dizziness and retired… to the courtyard.”

  As Arnacin began to loosen his cloak with a sigh, the princess shook her head. “I’m quite warm from all that dancing, at the moment.”

  Together, they turned between the branches of two large rose hedges, now barren except for the snow draping their many limbs.

  “So what have you been doing out here, Arnacin?”

  “Avoiding the general mayhem,” the islander shrugged. “I probably would be out on my ship, but the sailors of all those ships are having their own party on the pier and, well… it’s best to stay far away from that one.”

  Laughing, Valoretta joked, “You mean you haven’t ever joined them? From a sailor himself! My, my, how noble… You should have joined us instead, then.”

  Returning her grin, Arnacin said, “Only if I wished to make a fool of your kingdom by tripping over myself and everyone else.”

  “Don’t you know how to dance, Arnacin?” the princess asked in surprise.

  “Not your dances. I’ve watched them. They’re unlike any dance I know. Furthermore, I don’t know how well I could do the island’s either, by now.”

  “I’m sure the knowledge is still in there somewhere.” When the islander did not reply, Valoretta wondered, “What are your dances? Are they very different, or only slightly?”

  Giving her a sly grin, Arnacin teased, “Oh, you know how it is with a dance. One can never explain them. If you don’t know, you don’t know and you leave it there.”

  “Is that so?” Valoretta asked coyly, holding out her hands. “Then you shall simply teach me.”

  “I shall?” the islander repeated, teasingly stressing the order.

  “I command it.” The princess nodded, a laugh escaping her mock regality.

  “Then I refuse,” Arnacin flatly replied, turning away impishly.

  Continuing with the game, the princess caught his hand, imploring, “Then I humbly beg you, as a meek friend, to teach me something beyond stiff court dances.”

  Arnacin’s eyes glinted merrily as he nodded. “Ah, if it is for the sake of rejecting political games, I shall oblige you, My Lady.”

  With that, he took her hands, starting their dance at arm’s length as they concentrated on the steps. Princess Valoretta, trained in grace, lightness and dance, learned quickly—as fast as Arnacin’s memory supplied. Then, when he could remember nothing more of his own dances, they moved to the Miran common dances, whirling through the snow-dusted paths, seemingly forever.

  Unexpected laughter emitting from the frozen courtyard roused Miro’s attention as he made his escape from his new bride. Opening one of the doors to the courtyard’s upper walkways, the king paused. It was easy in the relatively dead courtyard to make out Valoretta, her hair falling out from its elaborate coiffure, strands hanging over Arnacin’s arm about her waist, and a broad uncommon smile brightening her face. Smiling himself, Miro shut the door behind him and leaned against one of the pillars, unseen by either as he watched them dance.

  They continued to host ambassadors throughout the winter, which demanded most of Miro’s and his daughter’s time. Although winter was always busy with the other kingdoms’ business, this year was particularly bad, considering all the treaties with Mira’s new allies.

  This also meant that large dances were held almost every other night, during which Valoretta never was given a pause from one dance to the next. Too many foreign men wished her as their partner and the only slight break she received was when a Miran guessed her hidden distress and took a turn with her. As the heir, unlike earlier Miran princesses, her presence was required for the treaties, as it was for trials.

  When Sara would wake her every morning—extra early to make sure she was correctly dressed in the appropriate exquisite manner—Valoretta never felt refreshed and would slide out of bed as if ancient. To make matters worse, that lon
g process of clothing and hairdressing, which could take over an hour, would often need repeating before dinner. Sara simply ignored Valoretta’s threats that she would cut her own hair off if the nurse did not leave her alone in the evenings, and also ignored the occasional hysterical wrath that arose from the princess’ exhaustion.

  It was rare to be able to retreat to the library, cool and quiet, and settle down by the islander who spent most of his time there. It was on one of those occasions that the princess fell asleep on her book while Arnacin was painstakingly drawing a map on parchment—a map of what he would not say.

  When Valoretta woke, it was to Sara’s frustrated shaking. Arnacin, and any trace that he had been there, had long disappeared, other than a blanket now tucked around her shoulders. Not that the nurse would see the islander in that sign. Sighing as though she had not really heard Sara’s complaints, the princess followed her nurse to change once again for the evening.

  Finally, spring came, but before all the ambassadors had departed, word came to the capital that the savages had come, before the first real thaw, to pillage and burn some of the towns and farms closest to the woods. Because they had been spotted in the plains beforehand, no one had died, yet this was the best that could be said about the savages’ refusal to let the Mirans rest.

  With the first thaw, Miro sent six of his armies out to engage the enemy. Arnacin was not sent, for reasons many guessed, considering his disobedience on his last mission. He was there to see Carpason off, however, and to pass the lord a rolled parchment, its contents unknown by most. Without looking at it, the lord simply stowed it in his saddle bags.

  Without any regard for the whispers against him, the islander returned to working on his ship, where Valoretta happily joined him, free once again from the demands of entertaining ambassadors.

  “My Lady.” The soft call halted the princess on her way to the library one day. Seeing the queen, in truth a girl hardly any older than Valoretta herself, the princess nodded politely, though inwardly she groaned.

  A closer look at the fear in the girl’s eyes softened the princess’ heart, though, and relenting, she asked, “What may I do for you?”

  “I wished to know…” The new queen paused. Glancing down, she admitted, “I’m very lonely, My Lady. I had hoped, being a noble lady yourself, you would understand my need.”

  “I?” Valoretta repeated in pride, turning away, “I whom you apparently came to force into marriage to your glitter-eyed brother. I should think not.”

  “Wait, My Lady,” the queen pleaded. “That is only one of their wishes, but the other… the other they would feel it suicidal to admit. To be honest, My Lady, Vemose is on the edge of financial collapse. When Mira asked for a union, Vemose agreed in exchange for gold. The agreed-upon amount would seem as nothing to a kingdom of such riches as yours, though. They, of course, need more if they are to continue prospering, but I must tell you I did not marry even for those reasons.”

  Valoretta had frozen, still turned away, yet at the pause that followed, she looked back over her shoulder.

  The queen’s cheeks were bright pink, her delicate lashes lowered, yet, as if hearing the princess turn, her blue eyes flicked upward. Shy determination shone there. “Call me a complete romantic idealist if you will, but all my life, I’ve wanted what I see our commoners possess. Their ladies are not just pawns to be bartered away for money or power and, when they wed, something magical exists in those unions. I love my family, and I’m sure they love me—but I’m nothing. And here, despite all my absurd ideas of how a husband and wife would always learn to cherish each other eventually, I am unloved instead. Therefore, I pass from nothing to a lonely nothing, with the ridiculous title of ‘queen.’ I’ve seen it, My Lady. Mira only has one queen—the title will not be robbed from her, and you are she.”

  As the princess turned all the way around in surprise, the queen whispered, “The king married me for the men I would bring. Now, as far as he is concerned, I can be disregarded, for he will not even take the chance that a battle could ensue over your sovereignty. Am I Queen Rosa of Mira? The title only serves to mock me.”

  Shaking her head slightly, Valoretta stated, “I’m sorry, but if you feel sold, you sold yourself.”

  “Father would have made me if I refused.”

  “But you didn’t—you said so—and if he truly loved you, I hardly think he would actually have asked that you be dragged here, now would he?”

  “For the sake of his kingdom? Love must sometimes be sacrificed.”

  “Not slavery, Your Majesty…”

  “Rosa. I said the other name is a slander to me.”

  “As you wish. ‘Your Majesty’ or ‘Rosa,’ my point remains. Was it not your choice, for whatever reason, to marry? You already said it was.”

  Rosa looked down, twining her fingers in her skirt. “You are a queen fit to rule, Princess Valoretta, yet you do not fool me. If you had no like fears and thirsts, I should wonder at your open friendship with that sailor, a nobody your father apparently deems a temporary plaything given to keep you content. If it wasn’t for that, I would wonder that he didn’t object to it. ”

  Lifting her head, Valoretta retorted, “Arnacin is a friend of Mira. He is no mere sailor, and even were he…” She paused, pondering the truth of the charge, despite herself. “I, unlike you,” she finally compromised, “refuse to be dragged about on a chain. Arnacin is a friend. Nothing would make me act otherwise and I would only be a liar and coward to try hiding it.”

  Studying the princess, Rosa breathed, “So you will not sympathize with my plight? I thought we might possess something in common.”

  Once again softening slightly at the look of complete desolation, Valoretta admitted, “We might, yet I have nothing in common with weakness.” With that, she whirled around, practically striding away in anger due to her lack of answers to Rosa’s charges.

  Later that day, Arnacin and Hadwin stood in a less frequently used circular stairwell of a tower. The location allowed them more privacy and alerted them when someone approached, for the sound of feet echoed on the stairs. Although their low voices also echoed, they knew from previous testing that only tones could be made out.

  Therefore, they kept their conversation going even when the stairwell clomped with footsteps, swiftly switching topics without altering or breaking their tones to hide their true discussion. “If Miro doesn’t send us back out, we’ll have to think of some way to convince him to abandon Mira,” Arnacin said, tapping his palms against the stone behind him. The slit of a window beside them looked out on the southern mists rising from the kitchen vents. “Or we could just tell him every—” Light footsteps sounded on the stairs above them and, smoothly, Hadwin changed topics. “I never was a very good conversation starter. Girls just made my tongue stick to the top of my mouth.”

  Despite Arnacin’s growing smile, the knight continued as a page continued down the stairs. “Before I knew it, I was quite settled as a bachelor, and that’s tha—Arnacin, stop laughing.”

  “That’s what you thought of in a split second?” the islander exclaimed, covering his mouth to hide his laughter.

  “Stop wasting time. I have no intention of hiding in this stairwell all day.”

  Sighing, Arnacin remarked, “Hiding? If we were hiding, I know of better places. And no, I tried to talk to your king about the mountains. Your lord told me he also has spoken to Miro about it. I even told him I would be forced to resign. Nothing worked.

  “If we tell him all: that mediums are encouraging the hatred, that they don’t belong to any tribe but wander throughout the continent, and that it takes twenty years to apprentice new ones, I think the only thing—”

  Clomp, clomp, clomp. More feet sounded on the stairs.

  “I often wonder if those kitchen vents are actually safe,” Anacin continued, looking out the window. “I mean, poison can just as easily go in.”

  “Good luck finding the vents if you walk through that mist. They’re ma
ny and small. I recall hearing that there are over a million ant-sized vents in that kitchen to stop exactly that sort of attack. That was while studying siege warfare.”

  The footsteps left the tower and Arnacin finished, “Miro will just be furious that we’ve spied for so long. We have to find some way to dangle Mira’s potential victory before him or I fear speaking about it.”

  “Yet if we don’t speak and we’re not sent out,” Hadwin muttered, “How are we to convince them of anything?”

  Covering his face in his hands, the islander sighed. “I don’t know.” Then, thrusting his hands back to his sides, he admitted, “With or without our further action on the field, I think Miro needs to evacuate. I know why he will do almost anything not to, but it’s senseless.”

  “Even if we could convince him to turn this war strictly against the mediums?”

  “We’d have to kill them all at once or it would never work. Once they realized they were the target, they would vanish, and yes, peace would come, but in five years or so they would return, perhaps with greater hatred and strength. I don’t think Mira would have a chance, then.”

  Hadwin’s own gaze followed Arnacin’s out the window. With the strength of the sun, the mist took on a hard appearance, shooting the light back toward the coast.

  Slowly, the knight let his breath out. “Perhaps the mediums hold meetings, during which we could fall on them all at once. It’s our only hope, Arnacin.”

  Saying nothing, the islander nevertheless felt his eyebrows rise and Hadwin meet his questioning gaze with an apologetic shrug. “This is also my home, Arnacin. The prospect of leaving our nationality, friends and extended family, as well as our homes, is one that none of us desire.”

  “I understand that, but—”

  “Yes, you’ve left your own home, but I know how desolate you would feel if you knew you could never return.” It was an argument that caused Arnacin to shudder.