Arrival

by Charlotte McConaghy

  “Not even a Bright One?” she asked.

  Cries of wonder rang out from the crowd. Clearly, the people of Gaddemar’s court had not known how many Strangers had crossed over at once. The king’s eyes snapped over to Harry, Anna and Luca. His composure lapsed for a moment. Then his face hardened. “No. Not even a Bright One.”

  “What do you mean?” Satine cried. “He is one of the Six, you fool! No position could be as important as his.” Satine had always believed in the prophecy, but perhaps she had gone too far in speaking so to the high king.

  The corners of his mouth twitched with fury, and he said, “This is treason. You know the penalty for treason, Satine.” And with a wave of his hand, two soldiers came forward to take hold of her. But Satine was ready.

  The first guard to reach her was dealt with quickly—a sharp blow to the head knocked him out. The second guard drew his sword.

  Satine’s curved sabre was ready. Three more guards entered with drawn swords.

  She looked at the king from amongst the circle of men, “Think what you are doing, Gaddemar. It is unjust, after all I have done for you!” But he only shook his head and waved the men on.

  She had dealt with four men before, but not men that were supposed to be on her own side. The difficulty would be in trying to defeat them without killing them. Her battle fury was starting to come upon her though. She dreaded these moments when she had almost no control over her body. She was going to have to fight these men whilst fighting her own fury. She heard in the distance the King telling her to give up. She couldn’t though. She still had a war to fight. She was not going to die now, after surviving so much.

  As the guards rushed at her, Satine ducked and weaved, thrusting and slashing with her sword. The four men she had first faced were already down, and she now fought ten others. She could beat a hundred if needed. Her sword found flesh again and again. It twisted and turned, seeking movement. But then she saw Accolon through all the men, raising his sword to try and help her, and she faltered. She would not be the one to turn Accolon against his father. Satine looked him in the eyes and shook her head. But he did not back down. Moving forward to the circle of men, he was about to start slashing.

  Her sword clattered to the ground. There were fifteen men on the ground. They did not move. Accolon gazed at her as they carried her out, and from out of her sleeve she managed to slip the scrolls into his hand, whispering, “Use these properly, and look after the Strangers.” And then she was gone.

  ***

  After it all, Harry was able to think back and replay the events that had just occurred. But at the time it all happened so fast. He didn’t have a chance to understand that she was going to die.

  “What’s going to happen to her?” Harry heard Luca ask.

  “The penalty for treason is death by burning,” Accolon replied.

  Harry felt dazed. It had all been for him. Everything she had done had been for him.

  Harry looked at the king in horror.

  Then he turned to his friends. “We have to do something.” His words were aimed mainly at the prince, but Accolon was not listening. He was staring at his father with a look of fury.

  “Accolon. Accolon!” The prince finally looked over at Harry. “We have to do something.”

  “I know that,” Accolon snapped, “Come with me.” And so, with a heavy heart, Prince Accolon lead the three Strangers on what he knew to be a very desperate rescue mission for the spy of Burmia.

  Chapter 11

  It was a cold morning in the village of Torr when Ria finally realised that her life was to be devoted to song. She left the mother and father who had gone through so much to give her life, and went off to seek more. More of what, she didn’t know. Just more.

  She was young, just sixteen, but she had known much pain in her life. Born a girl in an era of men, her nights had been cold and unforgiving. Who would want a girl child in a time of hard labour and survival?

  Ria had been a hard worker and hadn’t given her parents any reason to regret the fact that she was a girl, but she had lived a childhood of loneliness.

  She didn’t do things like a girl. She played with the boys and dreamt of joining the king’s courageous army of fighting soldiers. The only thing that had set her apart was her voice. Her parents had noticed the quality of it from a very young age, and she had been singing at gatherings in the town all her life. It brought in good coin for the family, but it had made her susceptible to the lonely men in the town.

  She was one of the only young women in the town. So she had been forced to teach herself violent methods of defence. By the time she was fourteen, she could fight as savagely as any man in Torr, and this fact soon became known around the town, leaving her to her much sought-after solitude.

  Her last year in Torr was a peaceful one in that respect.

  But not in any other. The plague hit the edge of their beautiful grape-growing town. Ria’s family were spared, but those around them were left to perish, with huge boils and weeping sores on their skin. Her father owned a small vineyard from which they made ice wine, a rare delicacy. This should have brought them money, but her father grew old and his once sharp skills were fading. In the aftermath of the plague, there were not many people left to work for him, and trade slowly dropped. They began to live on only the bare necessities—bread and water. It was then that she realised she had to do something to save her family.

  On a cold morning in late winter, her prayers were answered. A company of musicians rolled in with the wind and back out again, with Ria as their singer.

  Mercuro, the leader of the band, was a hugely obese man, but held a kind heart in his bulky chest. He heard Ria singing in a tavern that night and demanded that she join his company, much to Ria’s absolute relief.

  She was with that company for the best part of two years until she turned eighteen, and its people (mostly men) had become like a second family to her. It was with them that Ria first sang in the royal palace for King Cornelius and his celebrated son. After a week in Sitadel, the capital city of Cynis Witron, Ria saw where the true loyalty of the kingdom lay. The young prince, half Elf, commanded his armies with trust and affection. It was clear that he loved his people and had a fierce pride in his country that demanded love for him in return. He excelled in everything he did—sports, dancing, speaking and not least of all fighting—only making him more loved. After a week of her company’s stay in the city, and several royal performances, Fern had personally professed his admiration for her work, and quickly became one of Ria’s closest friends.

  Their first performance on the night of their arrival took place in front of the whole city, including the prince and his father. It was talked about for years after, and their songs became the most famous in the country. The group was regularly invited to Sitadel to perform at the palace, and every time they visited, the prince sought her out. She did not, however, kid herself that his affection was anything more than it seemed—everyone knew he flirted outrageously with every woman he came across.

  By this time, her name was known all over the country. Ria continued to send money to her parents but had never been back. It was at the end of those two years that she decided it was time for her to tour on her own.

  She travelled the country for over a year, and then finally she headed home. It was in a large, popular tavern in Luglio, a town by the ocean where she had stopped overnight, that things began to change in her life, for something was made terribly clear.

  The people of Luglio were renowned for their music and their arrogance. The Luglians said that the only good musicians (with few exceptions) came from their town, and this was precisely the reason for Ria’s presence. She would dearly love to show them that this was not so, for she was not without a definite streak of her own pride.

  She was sitting at a popular table towards the back of the room with a group of new friends. They were all drinking large quantities of Amalian ale.

  After a long argument on the usual t
opic of conversation—the quality of music in different cities —a man called Stevan said, “I will wager that Luglians are truly the best singers. I am sick of always talking about it.”

  This was exactly what Ria had been waiting for. Wagers were bound to break out if a subject was argued about for long enough.

  “And how do you propose to prove something like that?” another man asked.

  “With a challenge, of course!” Stevan replied with a grin, “I’ll sing against our little Torran friend here in a contest. Then we shall see whether Luglians really are better singers than Torrans.”

  Ria smiled graciously. She hadn’t been setting herself up this whole time for nothing. She had been in Luglio for five days now, but hadn’t yet offered to sing. She had been unnoticed by most of the men there, so they were surprised when Stevan challenged her.

  “How would you know if I can sing at all? I might be misrepresenting my town.” she said.

  “Well, I don’t know. It’s up to you.” He smiled charmingly.

  Ria snorted with laughter. “What will you bet?”

  After a moment’s thought he replied softly, “Fifty silver pieces.” There was a chorus of gasps around them. Fifty silver pieces was a lot of money. More than Ria had. But this was the wager she had been hoping for. “You have a deal.”

  Everyone within earshot cheered. This was what the people of Luglio loved.

  A man next to Ria stood up on the table and blew a horn. The barman looked over at them and scowled at the commotion. The man ignored him, and in a huge voice called, “Attention! There has been a challenge!” He had to pause for a moment to wait for the roar of approval to die down. “Stevan del Luglio has stated that Luglians are the best singers in the country. Not an unusual comment, no?” he conceded and there was a trickle of laughter. “He has therefore challenged Ceridwen del Torr to defend the honour of her city, to prove his statement false, and sing in a contest against Stevan. One song each, any instrument allowed. The winner will receive fifty silver pieces from the loser!”

  The people were ecstatic! It was well known that Stevan was a very good musician with a warm tenor voice. They wondered who this stranger from Torr was. There was a definite favourite, and wagers were made around the room hurriedly.

  “After you, my lord.” Ria gestured to the lone stool that had been set up in the middle of the room. The tavern was packed. People crowded up on the balcony, peering down eagerly, and the people in the upstairs rooms had all come out to listen. Stevan had to push through bodies to get to the stool, and there was silence as they watched him take out his lute.

  He was very good. There was no denying it, but he had chosen a song not suited to his voice. It was a Luglian song of lost love—the same as any other Luglian love song. When he finished, the crowd went wild, knowing the song had been sung well, and they were bursting with pride for their local boy who was going to prove they were the best.

  Stevan walked back to Ria. He had a smirk on his face, and this was what brought the laugh to her lips before she could hold it back. Steven looked confused for a moment, and then he sat down heavily. Ria was briefly regretful at having to do this to him—in all fairness he was good, and she hoped she wasn’t going to be ruining his career. She had also liked him when he hadn’t been talking about music. But, after all, fifty silver pieces was a lot of money.

  So Ria—who the Luglians thought to be Ceridwen—pulled out her harp and made her way to the stool. Harps were very rare. They had been used in ancient times, and had long been out of fashion. But Ria loved hers. She was well known for her harp playing, and she knew it might be a give away, but she needed its help tonight. Its name was Collinia, and was treasured above all else, having been a gift from the prince after her first performance at the royal palace.

  She plucked a few strings and listened to the pure notes float up. Then she began. She started with only the harp to lead her in. Then she lifted her voice to sing a lament to the dead. Some might have said that a night like this, cheerful and happy, was not meant for such a deeply sorrowful song. But in the end, not one of the people listening complained for the lost joviality.

  Ria sang from deep in her heart about the plague that had swooped in and killed so many, leaving their loved ones with images of suffering as their last memories of those who were lost. Her voice floated pure with sorrow and beauty, and it seemed, as it always did, that she left her body then. She hadn’t sung this song in public before. It was her first composition and it touched every person there.

  When Ria del Torr finished her song, the tavern was frozen in an unnatural silence.

  They looked at her strangely, and there was awe in their faces as she took Collinia and walked back to her seat.

  Stevan stared at her for a moment, then said quietly, though it carried to everyone, “That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. Who are you?”

  There was another silence, as she thought about what her answer would be, but it was broken for her.

  “It seems you have been fooled,” a voice came from next to the door. The crowd parted slightly and Fern, Prince of Cynis Witron, walked slowly into the room to stand next to the stool. He was a full head taller than the tallest man there. The silence ended amidst urgent whispers, and everyone sank to the floor in obeisance. He waved them up quickly but continued to look at Ria. People strained to see him, their beloved prince.

  Ria sighed. He was going to ruin her cover.

  “How so, my lord?” asked Stevan hesitantly after a few minutes.

  The prince looked at Ria and grinned. Then, in a voice pitched to carry, he said, “The woman you now know as Ceridwen is actually my good friend Ria del Torr. I’m sure you’ve all heard of her, and if you knew this fact, you would never have made a bet with her.” The room was alive with wonderment—it had all fallen into place. Ria was almost as loved as the prince himself. And they were both here in this tavern in Luglio!

  Ria said tiredly, “I am sorry for the deceit. Keep your money, Stevan.” She stood to leave, but was frozen to the spot as the whole tavern cried out for her to stay. So she did, and the prince too. And Stevan gave her half the money. He apologised profusely, and admitted it was only because he really didn’t have fifty silver pieces.

  “Why did you do that?” she asked the prince irritably. He grinned widely.

  “Because you don’t need that money as much as he does,” Fern replied cheerfully. “And I love to see you fume.”

  She felt like flinging him an insult, but you didn’t do that to a prince, no matter how close you were to him. “What are you doing here?” Ria snapped instead.

  He shrugged and took a gulp of wine. “Enjoying the music, the atmosphere.” She narrowed her eyes and he sighed. “Ria, I think you need to go home. There is something happening. I am on my way to the top of the mountain to see the wise man, but I don’t know what’s going to happen in the meantime.”

  “What are you going to see him for this time?”

  Fern gave a woeful sigh and then grinned. “Nothing important. My mother begs me to marry. I need to know if it’s the right time for me.”

  “And you can’t make that decision on your own?”

  Fern shrugged. “The man knows me. Indeed, he seems to know everything. In any case, you need to head home, and be careful about it.”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure ... Just go home, see your parents. Something is changing.”

  “Fern, I don’t understand—”

  “I don’t understand it myself, Ria. But try to trust me.”

  She nodded slowly. “All right. I was on my way home anyhow. When will I see you again?”

  “When the Gods deem you lucky,” he grinned and finished off his drink. Setting the cup down and kissing her on the cheek, the prince left the tavern, much to the disappointment of those around him.

  Ria watched him go and poured herself another glass of wine.

  There were too ma
ny layers in the world for her to hope to understand. You left the hard things for the people in charge, and you obeyed your prince. The rest was up to the Gods.

  ***

  “I wanted to ask you something, Mother,” Silven said. “After I spoke to Cornelius and we arranged the treaty he wanted to send an envoy to stay with us for a season as a sign of good faith. How would you feel about humans staying here with us for a while?”

  Liensenne stood next to the sending stone and peered in. “Yes. That’s fine,” she told her son.

  “Really?” Silven repeated, surprised. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” she replied distractedly, “You should not have doubted I would allow it.”

  “I have every reason to doubt, Mother,” he replied softly and she looked at him.

  “Too many times we have had this discussion, Silven. We cannot come to an agreement, but while I am queen, would you please see it as your duty to take my lead in such things?”

  He frowned and she saw his shoulders slump.

  “Our future lies in an alliance with the humans,” he said carefully, not wanting to back down just yet but knowing it was ground they had covered many times. She was their queen, and his mother, older than him, but he was not without a measure of his own wisdom and courage.

  “And I say it does not,” she replied.

  Eben said softly, “You know that the others agree with me. Silven and Fern. And they agreed with ... the lost prince. You have not forgotten why he left?”

  Her eyes flashed. “I forget nothing, least of all betrayal of my own kin.”

  He shrugged and continued. “Then you know what this can mean if we so choose. It might be different this time. The princes, united, have the power to overthrow you, Mother.”

  She froze, and a terrible sadness came into her eyes. “You would do this thing, would you?” she asked after a long time.

  “In the name of the mother goddess, do not make me do it!” he said desperately.

  She shook her head. “Perhaps we can talk about this later.” She looked back down at the stone and carefully placed her hands over it. There were ancient stones like these placed all over the world. Most humans thought them to be ornamental relics of a time long past, but to the Elvish people, they were communication devices. As she peered into its dark depths, the queen’s eyes widened. “The sending stone shines.”