Queens (The Wielders of Arantha Book 2)

by Patrick Hodges

  Kelia's shoulders slumped, and she nodded. “It does. But … that would mean that Arantha, or whatever being our world has called Arantha since our civilization dawned …” Her lip trembled, and her hands began to shake.

  Maeve placed her hand on top of Kelia's, steadying them. “Yes. It would mean that Arantha is Eth. Just like Banikar. Hell, Arantha could be Banikar.”

  The shaking didn't stop; in fact, they spread to Kelia's shoulders. Tremors wracked her body, and she squeezed her eyes shut as a stifled sob emerged from her throat.

  “Hey,” Maeve said firmly, squeezing both of Kelia's wrists. “It's going to be okay.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized how inadequate they were. Not for the first time, she felt in way over her head. But what else could she do?

  Kelia, her breath now coming in short, ragged gasps, lowered her head upon Maeve's hands, caressing them with her cheeks. Maeve felt simultaneously unnerved and heartened by the gesture, which only lasted a moment. When they locked eyes again, Kelia's face showed nothing but contentment.

  “I believe you,” she whispered between pants. “It would seem Creation has many gods, and Arantha is but one. If she truly is Eth, she is probably known by thousands of names, as she has existed since the dawn of time. Whatever her true name is, she has protected us since the days of Soraya, and she is still trying to protect us today. The fact that she has sent you to join our struggle is proof of that.”

  Maeve nodded, squeezing Kelia's hands again. “So … what does this mean for the Ixtrayu?”

  She retracted her hands from Maeve's grasp, patting her cheeks and dabbing her eyes. “It means exactly what it's always meant. We will continue to follow the path she sets for us, wherever it leads.”

  “Are you sure? What of these horrible visions, these nightmares you've been having? If this is Arantha's way of helping us, it seems a pretty callous way to do it. Just look at the effect they've had on you.”

  Kelia smiled, and Maeve found herself doing the same. “It is fortunate that I have you to draw strength from,” she said. “These visions are but one more thing I must endure for the good of my people, and endure them I will.”

  “So are we going to evacuate the village or not?”

  “I will discuss it with the Council at the first opportunity. Such an evacuation will involve moving nearly a hundred and fifty Ixtrayu a distance too great to walk, so we'll have to use the chavas. It will be a massive undertaking.”

  Maeve nodded, leaning back in her chair.

  Kelia pushed her plate to one side and folded her arms on the table. “May I ask you something?”

  The question sounded somewhat tentative coming out of her friend's mouth. Kelia, normally very solid in her convictions, only ever held back if she was worried about offending Maeve. After their previous disagreement—which she'd thought at the time had ended their friendship for good—they'd reconciled with regard to their different world views. There just wasn't time to deal with such things while preparing to battle for their very survival.

  She wasn't sure what Kelia wanted to ask, but she had a feeling she wasn't going to like it. Still, she nodded.

  “It's about … your husband.”

  “What about him?” she snapped, her tone catching both women off guard.

  Kelia met her gaze, her sharp brown eyes boring into hers. “I know what he said hurt you. I see it on your face every day. It … distresses me to see you in such pain.”

  Maeve remembered her first meeting with Kelia, in the mountains. When she discovered she could Wield, Kelia postulated that she was chosen by Arantha for a special purpose. It was too difficult for her to accept on top of the responsibility of fulfilling a mission whose success or failure would affect what was left of the human race. Maeve broke down emotionally, and with one embrace, Kelia helped her heart heal. She still had yet to figure out how that happened. Maeve could heal, true, but healing emotional pain wasn't the same thing as healing physical pain.

  “I'm fine,” Maeve said, rather more harshly than she intended. She took a moment to rein in her emotions. “This is my problem, and I'll deal with it. And besides, pain can sometimes be a good thing.”

  “I know. But too much can debilitate you.”

  Maeve sat up straight. “Do I look debilitated?”

  “No,” Kelia conceded, keeping her voice even. “It occurs to me, however, that by being here, by helping us, you're doing exactly as your husband instructed.”

  “It's not quite that simple. I'm helping you because I care. Because I don't want to see you, your family, or your people destroyed.” Her shoulders slumped. “So many people I loved died because I couldn't protect them. I can't let that happen again.”

  “So this is about redemption.”

  Maeve averted her eyes but nodded.

  Kelia stood up and moved toward the door. “Follow me.”

  She led Maeve down the path leading to the village's north entrance. After passing through it, she ascended a narrow, spiraling stone staircase that let up to the top of the Ixtrayan Plateau. They reached the top quickly, and Maeve stood beside Kelia as she stared out over the croplands and orchards below. Just under a mile away, the tree line marking the edge of the forest stretched from one end of the horizon to the other.

  Kelia stood, still as a statue, surveying her domain, her hands folded into the sleeves of her tunic. Maeve waited for her to speak, to tell her the reason she'd brought them here, but the Elystran woman remained silent.

  Maeve, too, watched as several Ixtrayu tended the holm grain, juva-berries and riverfruit below. All seemed so normal, like there wasn't a cloud of imminent death approaching.

  “It's beautiful.” The words were inadequate, but Maeve was at a loss as to what else to say.

  “Yes, it is.” Kelia's voice suddenly sounded much older than before. “I wanted you to see this.”

  “Why?”

  “All my life, it has been my destiny to be Protectress. To protect this land and its people from harm, no matter where it might come from. I have embraced this destiny as the will of Arantha. Even though our cause may be hopeless, I retain my faith that she will see us through it.”

  “And if she doesn't?”

  “Then I accept her judgment. I will die with my people, protecting our lands and our way of life, and then I will kneel before her at the gates to the Great Veil and thank her for allowing my people eight centuries of freedom.”

  Maeve bowed her head. “I wish I had your faith.”

  Kelia moved close to Maeve until they were chest-to-chest. She put a hand under Maeve's chin, lifting her head until their eyes met. Then she moved her hand to Maeve's cheek, caressing it. “So do I.”

  Maeve had no response to this. This was too far out of her realm of expertise. Battle training and military tactics she could handle. Gods and prophecies and destiny, that was something else entirely. It was too tough a concept for her to wrap her head around.

  When I was a young girl, I had faith, a faith I shared with my parents and grandparents. When exactly did I lose it?

  Why can't I get it back?

  Maeve stepped away and turned to face the Ixtrayu farmlands, her eyes widening as she noticed Davin below. He, Sarja, and another Ixtrayu girl she didn't know were walking down the path from the forest to the plateau. She locked eyes with her son, and she knew immediately that he'd seen her. With Kelia. Touching each other.

  Just like that, a wave of embarrassed guilt crashed over her. He'd only just learned of the awful truth of his father. Maeve wasn't sure what he would think about the possibility of her and Kelia in a serious relationship. For that matter, she wasn't even sure what she thought. This was all so new.

  Before she could formulate her next move, Davin smiled at her. It only lasted a moment before he returned to whatever conversation he was having with the girls walking alongside him.

  A fresh surge of embarrassment reddened Maeve's face.

  I am WAY overthinking this.

&nbs
p; Maeve descended the stairs several steps behind Kelia, lost in thought. With all that was going on, she'd had so little time to spend with her son. What brief respites they'd had were spent in an uncomfortable silence. The subject of her husband hadn't come up at all, and this worried her. Davin seemed to have outwardly recovered from his initial shock, but she knew this was just a front he was putting up. They needed to have a real talk. Soon.

  At the bottom of the stairs, both women stopped when two girls approached them, bowing their heads. One had short, close-cropped brown hair, rosy cheeks and bright, twinkly blue eyes. Maeve recognized her as Zarina, the chava-keeper's daughter. The other, clad in huntress's garb, was several inches taller, with straight, dark hair and long, muscular legs. She guessed both girls to be around nineteen in age.

  “Protectress,” Zarina said. “Sorry to disturb you.” She cast a sidelong glance at the huntress, whose eyes held a pleading look.

  “We have a request,” the huntress said. “If you're not too busy.”

  “What is this request?” Kelia asked, looking maternally at both girls.

  “Well …” Zarina fidgeted, and seemed unable to continue when the huntress grasped her firmly by the hand, giving her a warm smile. “As you know, Bika and I have chosen each other –”

  “Yes, I know,” Kelia interrupted, her face morphing into a smile. “You've not exactly gone out of your way to keep your affections a secret. I think even the chavas are aware.”

  Both girls blushed.

  “Erm, yes,” Bika said. “Perhaps we do get carried away sometimes, but it's only because we love each other so much. That's what we wanted to talk to you about.”

  “You see,” Zarina continued, “We were hoping to have our bonding ceremony at the start of harvest season …”

  “Which is many days distant,” Bika said. “And with … all that's happening now, the danger and all that …”

  Kelia held her hands up. “You wish to be bonded now.”

  Both girls vigorously nodded. “If we are to journey to the Great Veil soon …” Bika shot a loving gaze at Zarina, “Then we want to make that journey as companions.”

  Maeve lifted her hand to cover her mouth as a sob rose to the surface. In the face of destruction, these two want to get married? That's crazy. That's insane. That's …

  Perfect.

  “What do your mothers say?” Kelia asked.

  “They have given us their blessing,” Zarina said.

  “So … could you perform the ceremony?” Bika asked.

  Kelia stepped forward, enfolding both girls in a warm hug. “It would be my honor, my sisters.”

  It was all Maeve could do to restrain herself from joining the group embrace. She limited herself to a heartfelt “Congratulations” to the two girls as they stepped back from Kelia.

  “Thank you,” Zarina replied, smiling at Maeve.

  “And thank you, Protectress,” Bika added.

  Kelia nodded. “I will inform the Council. We will have the ceremony tomorrow, before the evening meal, at the Circle of Union. Make sure you prepare yourselves.”

  “Yes, Protectress,” they said together, bowing again. Their hands still joined, they ran down the path and across the bridge.

  Maeve took a step forward, standing at Kelia's side as they watched the young lovers disappear from sight. “So,” Maeve said, nudging Kelia's shoulder. “Looks like there's going to be a wedding.”

  “Yes.” Kelia's smile still hadn't vanished.

  “And you'll be presiding?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you done this before?”

  Kelia turned to face her. “Many times. It's truly a beautiful ceremony. I hope you and Davin will attend.”

  Maeve's emotions slammed together like waves on a roiling sea. It was time to prepare for battle, not indulge in the silliness of teenagers' dreams of a future they might not live to enjoy.

  On the other hand, there was something undeniably innocent and loving in their eyes. An innocence she frequently worried Davin had lost during their years spent in hiding. Perhaps Kelia understood something Maeve had forgotten; amidst chaos, it was still possible, even necessary, to search for something good and pure. Something that allowed hope to endure.

  Maeve's smile matched Kelia's in radiance. “We'd love to.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Vaxi remained silent as she followed Warran through a series of courtyards until they reached the main gate. She cast a look backward, half-expecting to see Mizar, come to prevent her unauthorized egress. She saw nothing, and her sense of unease increased with every step as she ventured into the unknown with this man—this prince—she'd just met.

  “Where are we going?” He maintained a quick pace, and she had to hurry to keep up. Not at all an easy task, as she had to use both hands to hike up the folds of her infernal dress.

  He flashed her a cryptic smile. “You'll see.”

  After passing through the main gate and several bowing guards, he turned to the right, leading her down a gentle slope. A large open field spread out before them. Hundreds of men occupied the area; some sparred with swords, others engaged in friendly wrestling matches, while still others were drilled by shouting men to perform some kind of physical regimen; a training ground. Her mind immediately harked back to Runa's tracking and archery lessons, the years she'd spent under the tall huntress's tutelage. A pang of homesickness welled up in her.

  Warran strode through the throng of men, giving cursory nods to those who acknowledged him. A few greeted him with warm familiarity, and he responded by calling them by name. It was obvious to Vaxi these men respected him, so she hoped she could too.

  She also couldn't help but notice the complete absence of women. Although much of what her grandmother had told her had been erroneous, it appeared Susarra's statement that females were prohibited from training to fight in the Daradian army was correct.

  Her eyes lit up when a familiar sight came into view: an archery range. Several painted targets had been set up at various distances from where a group of bow-carrying men stood. As she watched, one man in a blue tunic drew an arrow from his quiver, nocked it into his bow, took aim at the nearest target and fired. The arrow sped through the air, striking the target close to the center. A round of applause went up from several spectators.

  They were very near now. The modest crowd parted to let Prince Warran through, and Vaxi dutifully followed. Her heart skipped a beat when another archer stepped forward to challenge the blue-clad man. There was no mistaking his red-and-white tunic, his arrogant swagger, and his condescending sneer: Prince Agedor.

  Vaxi stopped before the younger prince could see them. Warran finally broke stride, stopping at her side.

  “Is something the matter?” he asked.

  She found his ever-present smirk simultaneously charming and annoying. Did he have any other expression? As much as she would love to get some much-needed practice in, Mizar would doubtless punish her for doing so in front of an army of men. Running afoul of her most powerful ally was the last thing she wanted. “Why am I here?”

  As if he sensed her growing discomfort, he placed a hand on her arm. He motioned to Agedor, who had taken up a shooting stance. The onlookers fell silent as he drew back his arrow and let it fly. All heads turned to follow its flight. With a resounding thunk of metal upon wood, the arrow embedded itself in the dead center of the target.

  A few spectators gave what seemed to be grudging applause, far less enthusiastic than for the man who had shot first. Vaxi could see Agedor bristling at the lack of response. He shot several men in the crowd a venomous look, then raised his arms. A boisterous round of applause followed.

  A wicked grin spread across Agedor's vulpine features as he faced his opponent, who bowed his head. “Next time you decide to challenge me, make certain your aim is as sound as your judgment,” Agedor said in a mocking tone. “I could have beaten you blindfolded.”

  The man did not meet the prince's eyes. “Yes
, Your Highness,” he replied. Vaxi couldn't help but feel for him. His shot had been very good, just barely off target. Agedor had only won by half the length of her finger.

  She turned to face Warran, whose smile had vanished. “That is why you're here.”

  Vaxi knew instinctively what he meant, but part of her didn't want to believe it. “You want me to …”

  “Teach my brother a lesson in humility. As you can see, he's due for one.”

  She flashed back to the scene in the courtyard, where Agedor had berated Sen for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. How her friend had lain there on the dung-covered ground, unable to stand up for himself. How she'd wanted to rush to his aid, to tell Agedor off for his callousness, but she'd held back because she didn't want to draw attention to herself. And now Warran wanted her to do just that, in front of hundreds, for his own benefit.

  “I-I can't,” she stammered. “The High Mage would not approve and –”

  “You did say you were proficient with a bow, did you not?” Warran's voice was as soft and smooth as Imarian silk. She imagined he would be a skilled negotiator when he took over for Aridor as King.

  “Yes, Your Highness, but –”

  She was cut off by Agedor's shout. “Is this what my father's army has come to? Is there no man among you who can challenge me? Let us hope, should you ever do battle, you show more courage there than you do now!”

  Vaxi couldn't believe what she was hearing. Not only was the prince openly showing his disdain for an army of what she took to be seasoned soldiers, but not a single one of them was raising his voice to rebut Agedor's accusation. Much like her grandmother, Agedor used fear to command respect.

  Warran, apparently, had had enough as well. He stepped through the crowd, raising his voice for all to hear. “It is not a lack of courage that cows these men into silence, brother. It is fear of reprisal. You petitioned Father to have the last poor unfortunate who deigned to best you in an archery contest transferred to the outpost at Glacier Cliffs.”

  Agedor faced his brother with a scowl. He obviously hadn't noticed Warran observing the contest until now. “A petition he turned down,” he said. “And it wasn't because he defeated me, brother, it was because of the complete lack of respect he showed in victory.”