Arrival

by Charlotte McConaghy

  Terret saw it from a long way off. There was blood all over him that reminded him of his mother’s salty tears on his cheek.

  Terret would never be sure how the king knew what to do next. Accolon rode his horse quickly to the centre of the ring and jumped off. He leant to the ground and picked up a bow and one arrow that had been hidden under the sand.

  Then three things happened at once. Three arrows were shot.

  Accolon shot his single arrow high up into the crowd and watched it land in the chest of a man. Then, to the king’s obvious shock, another arrow landed in the ground at his feet, fired from a completely different spot in the stadium. One more arrow was let loose amongst the crowd of now panicked onlookers, but Terret had no idea who had shot it, or who had been shot, so dazed was he by his wound.

  ***

  He was known for his stealth and his secrecy, and that was why he died. He was an assassin, a good one, but he had had nothing to do with the assassination attempt. And yet, Blaise lay on the ground with an arrow deep in his chest.

  He could not hold his thoughts in place. Fern bent over him with an expression of such calm that it brought peace to him before he died.

  “My prince, my cousin,” Blaise whispered, “I left the Elf country and my true life as an Elf prince, for I believed in something. I tried to make you understand.” He stopped, trying to suck air into his lungs. He knew Fern would have heard the story, but he needed to speak it out loud. “My wife and my baby girl were attacked by sabre-tooths, but because they were in human territory, Liensenn refused to send aid. So riddled with bitterness over King Cornelius was she that my family were killed. I left my throne empty and despite everything, this was the wrong thing to do. I betrayed you all—and I dearly wish for forgiveness. But there is one thing I truly need you to understand.”

  “What is it, cousin?”

  “Please, I need you to understand why I left—there must be an alliance between Elves and humans. We will not survive if there isn’t. There will only be more bloodshed, more mistakes. You must...”

  Fern leant down and placed a tender kiss on Blaise’s brow, and then looking deep into his eyes, the prince said, “I understand. I will do everything in my power to make it so. You have never needed to be forgiven. Go in peace, Balyseren, lost prince of the Elves.”

  And, having heard his prince offer love to his true name, Blaise left the land of the living, knowing there was beauty and pleasure in the world, and that finally, at this last, he could be with his wife and daughter again.

  Chapter 32

  “No!” The cry was torn from her lips before Jane could stop it and she rushed towards Blaise. Fern was there before her, and crouched at Blaise’s side. The stadium was in confusion, but all Jane could see was the endless blood seeping out of his chest; it pooled on the ground around them.

  “What’s going on?” she yelled over the hundreds of screaming people. Everyone was trying desperately to scramble towards the exits. No one heard.

  Jane stared at Blaise’s lifeless body. She was frozen still, unable to move. Fern put his arms around her, and Jane saw tears in his eyes.

  Accolon had come into the stands and was standing over the body of the other man with an arrow in his chest.

  “What is going on, Accolon? Why is Blaise dead? And who is that?” Jane asked as they reached the body. Accolon ordered everybody to keep away from the body, but not to leave the stadium—the gates were blocked by soldiers.

  “There has been an attempt on my life,” he said gesturing to the dead competitor on the sand. The younger boy had been carried away.

  “After the first attempt failed, I assumed there would be another,” Accolon went on. “I buried an arrow in the sand just before the last game, and fired it at Blaise. I thought he was the assassin.” He paused to look down at the body of the young man in front of him. “I was wrong. This was the man that tried to kill me. His arrow missed me, landing in the sand at my feet instead.

  “If it had been Blaise doing the job, I would probably be dead,” Accolon said quietly.

  “So ... Blaise is dead because you made a mistake?” Jane stammered

  Accolon looked regretful, but he said, “He was destined to die—he assassinated Gaddemar, my father.” Perhaps the order in which he said that was important, but it was lost on them in that moment.

  “There were two arrows in your father’s chest when he was assassinated,” Fern said quietly.

  Accolon looked him straight in the eye and said, “What would you have me do, prince? I have a land to rule. You will one day too. Paid assassins must be executed.”

  “When I am king, I will not allow needless killing.”

  Accolon said, “You may find making decisions as king will not be as simple as you think. I am sorry you lost someone dear to you, but we have no time to grieve. We must put our minds to what is ahead, or we will lose more than one.” He let his eyes sweep briefly to Jane. Fern saw his gaze and nodded his head.

  “Now will you help me find who did this?” Accolon asked, gesturing to the unknown body below them.

  “Of course,” Fern said.

  No sooner had he spoken than another voice rang out.

  “I shot the arrow and killed this man.”

  “Emperor Liam!” Accolon exclaimed in surprise, as both he and Fern bowed to the warlord.

  “I saw him aim his arrow at you and thought I might try to stop him. Unfortunately, my clumsy hands were too slow to let loose my arrow in time. It was good fortune that he missed,” Liam said.

  “Where were you sitting?” Accolon asked.

  “In the second stand,” he replied.

  “An impossible shot,” Fern muttered.

  “We must go back to the castle and speak of how and why you are here,” Accolon said and turned to leave.

  “Wait!” Jane cried. “There are three men dead—you cannot leave them here.”

  “Burying men is a mark of honour. These three were men who killed others for a living, no matter the reason. Do you think that deserves honour?” Accolon asked her and his resolve was strong against her anger.

  “But...” Jane stared at them, her voice failing her. She looked down at Blaise, his skin already pale and clammy like wax.

  “They will be buried properly,” Fern said softly, his tone forbidding argument. “They were men of this kingdom. We should be setting our sights to finding who ordered this assassination. Clearly, it was meant to be foolproof, as there were two assassins employed to do the one job.”

  “I already know who ordered this,” Accolon said quietly. He turned and walked away before any of them could ask.

  Jane, Fern and Liam followed the king out of the stadium. A litter carried them up the cobbled streets to the castle where they found Accolon hunched in a deep chair in the entrance hall. The two chancellors entered and Accolon silently motioned for them to sit by him. Fern and Liam also sat down, but Jane chose to stand and wait for an answer. Accolon looked up at her and sighed. But he didn’t speak.

  “Why aren’t you doing something?” she asked desperately.

  “I need time to think,” he replied.

  “What is to think about? Arrest whoever is responsible!” she said.

  “The penalty for treason is execution,” he said quietly.

  Jane shook her head and rubbed her eyes.

  “I must do it,” Accolon said, looking at the floor.

  “Then why aren’t you?” Jane asked exasperated.

  He looked up then, and stared straight into her eyes. “Because the traitor is my mother.”

  Silence reigned in the huge hall. Vezzet moved uncomfortably in his seat.

  “I’m sorry—I did not realise,” she whispered, a hand to her mouth. “Why would she want to have her own son killed?”

  “She is in league with Leostrial.”

  Then he stood and addressed the guards at the door. “Arrest Columba for her treason. Prepare for the execution outside the city. The people need know noth
ing except that the traitor is caught. I shall be the only one to witness it.” He paused and then said, “Although maybe I do not deserve to be spared the shame.”

  Liam shook his head. “Accolon, you must know that none of us will blame you. Your mother made this terrible choice; nothing you could have done would have prevented it.”

  “Then she was the one responsible for poisoning our ship captain!” Jane exclaimed.

  Fern nodded. “It’s most likely.”

  Tomasso and Vezzet stood to leave. Accolon raised a hand. “Oh no, my friend,” he whispered. “I have not even started with you.”

  The two men turned around slowly, neither one sure whom the king was addressing.

  More El~ariah guards had silently moved to stand in front of the door. Accolon turned back to the others in the room. “Columba did not act alone when she betrayed us.” A strange grin came upon the king’s face. “Our second traitor is none other than our head chancellor, Tomasso.”

  The colour drained from Tomasso’s face. His expression did not change, but he was so white he looked as though he might collapse. “These are lies, my lord.”

  “Your assistant has proof that you are in contact with Leostrial. You shall be beheaded on the morrow,” said Accolon flatly.

  ***

  Jane warmed herself in front of the fire, watching as the flames burned and crackled. A cool breeze drifted in from the open window and blew the hair off her face. Moving from the fire, she stood in front of the window and stared at the two moons; one pale blue, the other a red-orange colour. A peace moon and a war moon.

  Her door opened and she turned to see Fern enter. Jane turned back to the window.

  “Is she dead yet?” Jane asked without looking up.

  “Tomorrow,” he spoke quietly.

  After a long silence, she asked, “Why does the red moon not shine more brightly than the blue? We’re about to go to war.”

  “They are only symbolic. They are too far away to take notice of our dealings.” He paused and then murmured sadly, “It may yet be all right, Jane.”

  “What are their names?” she whispered, and started to cry. Jane wept for Blaise, and for the others who had died that day. She wept for the boy who had tried to save his king, and she wept for those who had died in the battle in the valley. She wept for her family, for Elixia, and the burden that she would have to carry, and for Satine who was all alone in a dangerous place. She wept for Mia and Jack, still lost. She wept for the weight of her task, but most of all she wept because she did not know the names of the two moons in the sky.

  ***

  Fern saw the tears, and he moved forward to wrap his arms around Jane and whispered the names of the two moons into her hair. “Lindel and Jael.”

  Her brown eyes were huge, and looked golden in the candlelight. Somehow, he thought, she looked more beautiful than she ever had, a sad, sorrowful beauty that almost hurt him to look upon.

  “I’ve made your shirt all wet” Jane sniffed.

  “It will dry. Are you all right?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I love you.”

  She looked up at him again then. “Does that matter now? Will it save everybody?”

  “Maybe not,” he replied slowly, “but it can save us.”

  “And why do we deserve to be saved?” she asked.

  “Some are more fortunate than others. Some people never find love. Some die and some live. We must not give up yet, Jane.”

  “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered. “I have no idea.” Jane’s voice was raw and Fern hugged her close so she wouldn’t see his face darken.

  He knew what she meant. But there was more. Someone had died that day. Kin of his, and blood calls for blood.

  Blood calls for blood.

  Chapter 33

  Satine pressed herself against the horse’s neck and urged it over the barren land of her country. It didn’t take her long to reach the small town of Marat. She was a stranger to the town, so she walked her horse slowly through the main street several times. Lining it were taverns and shops, and further back from the street were houses. It was quiet. A man came out of a shop doorway, saw her, and collapsed onto the ground in obeisance.

  “You may rise,” she said kindly and the man did so slowly. “Where might I find Sulla?” she asked.

  The man pointed west and said, “She is at the far side of the town—a large house with a red roof and much land—you will see it from the road.” He bowed again and Satine waved to him as she rode off. She reached the edge of the town and started on the rougher road, the large farmhouse in the distance.

  It was not at all what she had been expecting. She had thought that Sulla might be the only one at the farmhouse, and maybe the child too. But as she drew nearer, she could see about twenty young boys running around the paddock. Satine slowed her horse and as she entered the grounds of the house and passed the gate, the boys stopped and stared wide-eyed at the stranger. They looked to be between five and ten years old, and Satine couldn’t help but wonder if her own son was amongst them. Her stomach clenched with nerves.

  Satine dismounted and tethered her horse. She knocked on the door and was greeted by a tall woman with long blonde hair and eyes of bright blue. An Amazon. The woman looked at her suspiciously.

  “I am Satine,” she said, and the woman’s eyes warmed a little.

  “Highness,” she said respectfully. “I am Marna. You are here to speak with Sulla?”

  “I am,” Satine said and let herself be led into the large house, through several rooms before coming to a vast decking at the back that overlooked the playing children. An older woman was sitting in a chair next to the table, watching the boys calmly. She looked up at Satine as Marna showed her to another seat.

  “Greetings, Satine,” Sulla said.

  Satine sat down and waited for Marna to leave before replying.

  “Greetings.”

  “You are here for the boy?” the old woman asked. Her face was lined with wrinkles, but the eyes were cool and intelligent.

  “Yes,” Satine replied. “My mother said I would find him here. Is that true?”

  Sulla nodded. “You would like to see him?”

  “Yes. And I would like to take him home.”

  “We want only what is best for the child,” the older woman replied.

  Satine frowned. “I understand. You have no need to fear that I will harm him, or not love him.”

  Sulla only shrugged.

  “What is this place?” Satine asked, watching the boys cartwheel and kick a ball crazily.

  “It is a home for orphaned boys.”

  Satine bit her lip, suddenly feeling the urge to cry. “My son is not an orphan,” she said softly. “I would have raised him myself, but ... my mother...”

  “She has come to visit Altor every year since he was brought here,” Sulla said.

  “Altor? That’s his name?” Satine asked, a catch to her voice.

  “Liessen named him Altor. She said you would have liked that.”

  “I do,” she whispered. “I do like it. Altor is perfect.”

  One of the boys fell and cried out, but then jumped up and continued to run.

  “Can I see him?” Satine asked.

  “Come with me,” Sulla rose and threw a formidable glance at the boys who looked at her and grinned at each other at the prospect of unsupervised fun. Satine followed her back inside and down another hallway. She stopped in front of a door and turned to the princess.

  “He is training at the moment—Altor has shown a very great interest in combat of all kinds since he has been old enough to walk, talk, and hold a sword.”

  “He is only seven years old!”

  The woman nodded. “His interest has turned to talent.”

  They entered the room. It was the largest room in the house, covered in soft mattresses and filled with training equipment. Then she saw Altor at the far end and felt her eyes grow hot. He was beautiful. More beautiful than
she could ever have imagined.

  He swung a sword from hand to hand, twirling it through the air. He turned as the door opened and saw the women—one he had spent his life with, and the other, who was tall and young, and crying.

  Satine stared at the boy, who seemed to realise that something was wrong, for he had stopped playing with the sword and stared back at her. He had milky skin like her own, and a shock of black hair that matched his sooty eyes and dark eyelashes.

  “Hello,” she said, wiping away her tears and walking over to him. He nodded in greeting and looked at Sulla for direction.

  “Altor, this is Satine,” she said and Altor nodded again.

  “How are you?” Satine asked.

  “Well, thank you,” the boy replied. “And you?”

  “I’m very glad to finally meet you, Altor,” she said.

  He frowned. “Have you been waiting?” he asked.

  “Ever since you were born.”

  “Who are you?” Altor asked.

  “I’m...” Satine took a deep breath. “I’m your mother,” she said gently. And watched as his eyes widened and he took half a step forward before stopping.

  There was a long moment as she held her breath, waiting for him to say something. “Why didn’t you come before now?” he asked, his voice small.

  “Oh, I wanted to so much, but I never knew where you were. I’m here now. Can you forgive me?”

  He looked at her for a long time, then at Sulla, then back at Satine. And he smiled.

  Incredible relief floated through her at the sight of his handsome little face lit up in happiness. Tears spilt onto her cheeks.

  “Of course,” he said. “If you promise to stay with me from now on. Why are you crying?” he asked.

  “I’m happy,” she laughed. Then, after a moment, “Would you like to come home with me?”

  “To your house?”

  “Yes, to my house.”

  “And my father?” he asked, and she didn’t miss the desperate hope in the words.