by J. S. Malcom
Revlen thinks for a moment, and then waggles her hand. “I guess fifty-fifty. It could go either way.”
She seems pretty relaxed about it, which I suppose might be a good sign. Then again, Revlen is used to facing danger. In her line of work, that must come with the territory.
“And if it goes bad, do they put us in prison or something?”
Revlen shakes her head. “Centaurs don't have prisons.”
Oh.
Revlen stretches out on the ground, elbows out, and with her hands behind her head. “It looks like it's going to be a long day,” she says. “If I were you, I'd get some sleep.”
With that, she checks out, leaving me still chewing on centaur bacon in a tree cage. I think about asking Majenic for a toothbrush, but decide against it. Instead, I just drink my cup of water and then stretch out on the ground. With any luck, I won’t wake up being tossed through the air.
*
That I actually do catch some sleep surprises me. But then, who the hell knows what time it was when I was plucked from my dreams and roped to a horse? On top of that, I was completely worn out by travel the day before. By the time I wake up, the sun is already starting to set.
Revlen sits with her back pressed against the bars of our shared cage. Never one to pull punches, she says, “Did you know you snore?”
Thanks for that. Best road trip ever.
I'm barely done stretching when Majenic shows up again. Apparently, she's been put in charge of our bathroom breaks, which makes me wonder if she's working off demerits or something. Or maybe she's the only woman centaur who can handle being around the stinky creatures who walk on two legs.
After a brief excursion into the woods, we're deposited back into our cage and fed again, basically the same meal we had before. At least Revlen is getting her share of netchkor. Day has turned to night, and it's just me and Revlen enjoying more quality time together again. Still, I figure I might as well take this opportunity to see what makes her tick. After all, the possibility exists that she'll be the last person I ever talk to.
I try to start with something that seems like a safe question. Nothing overly personal. “So, how long have you been with the rebel movement?”
“Since I was ten,” she says.
My eyes widen. No, I wasn’t exactly ready for that one. “Ten?”
Revlen nods, toying with a sprig she tore off of a branch behind her. I'm not sure it’s a good idea to piss off the tree cage, but I don't say anything.
“That's when the Seelie killed my brother. That’s when Vintain killed him, to be specific.”
So much for sticking to impersonal questions, but my eyes rivet upon her as my heart starts to beat faster. “Vintain killed your brother? I'm sorry.”
Revlen absently bends the sprig into a loop. “The queen came through town with her entourage, and my brother refused to kneel.”
The food in my stomach turns to lead. “That was all he did?”
Revlen pulls on the loop, tying it into a knot. “That’s all he did. If the queen rides past, you're supposed to kneel. My brother thought it was wrong to expect that from us. He felt that the Unseelie weren't her people. That she cared nothing about our kind, and that she only made our lives miserable. So, yes, he refused. And Vintain struck him down.”
I narrow my eyes as my vision starts to telescope with hate. “That bastard.” When I thought I couldn't hate Vintain any more, I feel my loathing suddenly triple.
Revlen turns her amber eye on me, her face set like stone, leaving no doubt that she feels exactly the same way. “It was just me and Tamor that day. We were walking home from the market. I was just a girl, and he was a teenager. I don't know, maybe he felt a real sense of conviction. Or maybe he was just showing off. Either way, he didn't think he'd be killed for it. Yelled at, maybe. Pushed around, possibly. But killed? No.”
I stare at the ground, my vision blurring even more as I fight back tears. I can’t allow myself to break down. Not now. I need to know as much as possible. I force myself to meet Revlen’s gaze again.
Revlen starts winding another knot in the sprig. “That's when this happened,” she says. She taps her eye patch. “Little ten year old me tried to retaliate. My efforts were met with the tip of Vintain’s blade.”
This time, my stomach twists with both rage and horror. I speak softly. “I'm so sorry I asked. I shouldn't have.”
Revlen shakes her head. “No, it's fine. Everyone else knows my story. Why shouldn’t you? You're one of us now.”
In that moment, I realize she's right. If I had any doubts about that before, I no longer do. Her cause is now my cause, and if we don’t die here, I’ll die by her side to see it through. Revlen is right, we all have stakes in this game. And mine, as much as they mean to me, are no more important than hers.
“Thank you,” I say.
Revlen nods, as if she’s known all along that I’d reach this point. But, then again, in her experience those around her must eventually all realize they’re in it together.
“I recovered well enough,” she says. “Physically, that is. Psychologically, everything changed that day. In my heart, I became a rebel, and I knew nothing would ever change that back again. Nothing ever will. I'll keep fighting until things change, or until I die trying.”
That part, I already sensed in her. Everything about her speaks of resolve and commitment. “What about Esras? How long has he been involved?”
“Since he was seventeen,” Revlen says. “That was when he brought us some half-blood strays. He captured them after they’d wandered into Seelie territory. They feared the worst, of course, but Esras took them for their own good. He delivered them to us and we got them out again. If he’d been caught, he would have been executed, his family disgraced. That didn't stop him. He's been working with us since.”
When I wondered before about how much Esras was willing to risk, I now have the answer. He’s remained willing to risk everything.
“And Cade?” I say.
Revlen smiles fondly. Apparently, she finds Cade cute too. “We got word of Cade's special skills. So, we enlisted him to procure a few items helpful to the cause. And, of course, it's a good idea to occasionally remind the Seelie that they're not impervious. Breaching their security measures, and wandering through their homes, is a good way of delivering that message.”
“I get the feeling that, these days, that’s primarily why Cade steals,” I say. “Well, that and to pay for beer in Silvermist.”
Revlen laughs. “Cade has personal reasons for being involved, of course. But, often, it's those personal reasons that make for the strongest commitment.”
It's the same for all three of them, I realize. For Revlen, what happened to her brother. For Esras, his sister. And for Cade, his future with the woman he loves. Their commitment might be ideologically driven, but it's grounded in personal loss.
“What about the other half-bloods? They seem a little on the fence.”
Revlen ties another knot in her sprig. “Definitely mixed opinions, from what we hear. Some hate the Seelie. Others, believe it or not, are actually proud of their Seelie heritage. Despite how it came about, they view it as something linking them to royalty. Of course, there are others who just—”
Revlen stops at the sound of hoofbeats pounding the earth. We go to the front of our cage and peer out, as a group of centaurs gallops past. They’re heading away from camp. In the distance, we see what looks like the light of torches approaching.
“If I was to guess,” Revlen says. “I'd say that the clan elder may have arrived earlier than expected.”
CHAPTER 14
They leave us waiting until they feel good and ready. Maybe it's an hour, but it might as well be a week, as we wait to face our judgement. As Majenic appears, uttering a centaur incantation to part the living bars of our cage, Revlen mutters, “At least they didn't make us wait all night.”
She definitely has a point. There's no way we would have managed to get more sleep any
way, and spending the night anticipating this moment would have been torture.
The camp, left dark before, is now alight with torches. They blaze in rows lining the path we walk as a group, the four of us together again. We’re taken to where the torches ring their way around a cleared out cul-de-sac. Within that circle, the centaurs stand gathered facing the one who must be their elder. We’re taken to the front to face him too.
He doesn’t appear half as old as I imagined. Although his face is creased, and his hair and beard both gray, his arms and chest bulge with muscle. The bronze skin of his upper body glistens as he stands before a fire burning between him and us.
“I am Rontauk,” he says, regarding us with a fierce gaze. “My people received a bird warning them of your imminent crossing through our land.”
Bird? Did I hear that right?
Seeing my expression, Cade whispers, “Lingualawk. Messenger bird.”
I imagine something like a carrier pigeon, but that notion is soon dispelled.
“The bird specified that he’d flown in over your party,” Rontauk says. “He confirmed that there was indeed a Seelie noble traveling with you.”
Okay, yeah. That’s a pretty advanced bird. Definitely a Faerie thing.
Rontauk turns to Revlen, possibly because he recognizes her as being Unseelie. Or, because she’s super hot. It’s impossible to say, but for some reason he singles her out as being the voice for our group. “How can you explain this?”
Revlen swallows, but keeps her gaze fixed on Rontauk. “The Seelie noble is aiding our cause against the crown. We’re travelling together to Longmeadow.”
Rontauk’s face remains rigid. “Why?”
Revlen hesitates, but then gestures toward me. “We seek safe haven for this woman.”
Rontauk’s eyes barely flick my way before he addresses Revlen again. “Why?”
Revlen considers for a couple of moments. “She has abilities we hope to use against the Seelie. They’ve learned of her presence.”
Rontauk shifts his gaze to me again, studying me more closely this time. “She’s a half-blood. Why doesn’t she return to her own realm?”
Revlen doesn’t argue Rontauk’s determination that I’m a half-blood. Which I guess makes sense. Why open that door? “She chose not to. She’s working with us and her commitment to the cause compels her to stay.”
Rontauk nods. “I see.”
He looks past her, and just barely nods toward someone behind us. Ozenor trots forward to meet him. They speak in whispers, using their own language for a couple of minutes. I watch their expressions and gestures, which remain relaxed. The conversation seems casual, not particularly charged. Hopefully, Revlen spelled things out well enough and we’ll be okay.
Finally, Ozenor nods and trots back to where he stood before. This time Rontauk fixes his gaze on Esras. “We find it difficult to believe that a Seelie noble such as yourself would protect a half-blood, regardless of her supposed abilities. We also find it difficult to believe that you would work against your own people. Not one of you has for hundreds of years, even as our lands have continued to wither. Can you prove you are, indeed, working for the Unseelie cause?”
It’s an impossible request. How can Esras possibly prove such a thing? Amazingly, he retains his composure. He keeps his gaze fixed on Rontauk. “I can offer no proof,” he says. “We can only offer our word.”
Rontauk nods, but the stillness of his expression makes my stomach sink. It’s one of those moments when I just know. I’m soon proven correct.
“Then we find your group guilty of altering nature. Your execution will be carried out after the ceremony of ghosts.”
Rontauk says nothing more. Immediately, hands clamp around my upper arms. One of the centaurs behind me holds me in a vise-like grip. I struggle, but it’s no use. I desperately look around, my head whipping back and forth, but it’s the same for the rest of us. Even Esras’s physical strength is no match. This time, our captors don’t let go of any one of us as we’re delivered back to our cages.
CHAPTER 15
Revlen sits with her legs crossed and her eye closed as the minutes pass. She’s remained this way since we’ve been isolated again. Her breathing, rapid at first, now rises and falls evenly as she appears to have reached a point of inner calm. I’m not sure what she’s doing, but I also feel sure I should wait to speak. Eventually, she takes one long deep breath, and then opens her eye again.
“Are you okay?” she says.
She delivers the question so calmly that I’m not sure how to react. That she appears so relaxed, after what we’ve just been told, reminds me once more that I’m not in my realm. I’m nowhere near it. I start pacing back and forth again, as I’ve been doing since she went into some sort of meditative coma. “No, I’m not okay! Are you freaking serious?”
Again, Revlen speaks softly. “I’m sorry. I thought you’d be making peace. We don’t have much time left.”
“Wait, you’re a rebel leader. Aren’t you going to fight?”
Revlen cocks her head. “How?”
It’s a great question. It’s also one for which I have no answer. “I don’t know. Shit!”
Again, Revlen nods. “I understand your fear and frustration. Our situation appears to be hopeless.”
Yeah, we’re on the same page now for sure. Before I voice that thought, Revlen continues. “I’ll die knowing my fellow rebels will continue the cause. I’ve sent my thoughts their way, to let them know I’ll be leaving.”
“Wait. Can they hear you?”
“Maybe not consciously, but we believe we’re all connected. They’ll feel my departure on a deeper level.”
Okay, perfect. Just what I was hoping to hear, that the fae have a woo-woo side. Which doesn't seem all that important right now. So I finally get to ask the question that's been on my mind. “What’s the ceremony of ghosts?”
“A centaur ritual for those about to be executed,” Revlen says. “They call upon the spirits of their ancestors to guide the newly freed souls into the afterlife.”
I shake my head briskly, trying to make sense of that. “Their ancestors! What about our ancestors?”
Revlen quirks an eyebrow, which I suspect is usually her version of shrugging. “They don't know our ancestors. How could they call on them?”
The logic in this place kills me. I pace back and forth a few more times. “Let me be sure I've got this right. They kill us, but then call out the welcome wagon.”
“Opposite order, really, but that's the general idea. It's a unique tradition.”
“Yeah, I'd be really touched if I wasn't going to die soon.’’ I don't mention the veil witch temporary immortality thing for a couple of reasons. First, because no one seems to know the shelf-life of that particular supernatural perk. It's like we're kept in the game until we're not needed anymore. Then, well, apparently we're not needed anymore. The other reason—and this is the one really freaking me out—is that I have no idea if it even applies if I’m in a different realm.
“I'm hardly an expert on centaur rituals,” Revlen says, “but I’d imagine they're fine with us calling on our own spiritual ancestors. All I know is that the ceremony is intended for our comfort. As we mentioned before, the centaurs aren't a cruel people. Before the magical blight, they rarely resorted to violence of any kind.”
“But now they kill you for trespassing. That's quite the shift in policy.”
Revlen considers that for a moment. “Well, to be fair, the Seelie practices did devastate their lands. And we were traveling with a Seelie noble.”
I see her point, but she also seems overly centered for a time like this. I start pacing again. “But we're going to make a break for it, right? We're not going down without a fight, are we?”
Revlen studies me calmly again. “If an opportunity presents itself, we'll definitely act. I assure you.”
“Okay, good.” Damn, for a minute there I thought she was giving up.
“But I highly doubt t
here’ll be an opportunity. The centaurs are known to be very organized and highly observant. So, it might be best to make your peace while there's still time.”
Apparently, Revlen decides this conversation has gotten us as far as it’s going to go. She closes her eye again, and then goes back to that even breathing thing. Meanwhile, I go back to pacing. Maybe it's part of being a rebel warrior that allows her to remain this calm in the face of death. And, I suppose, in a way it might even be admirable. But I don't have a team of trained insurgents who are going to carry out my cause. If I don't rescue Julia, she doesn't get rescued.
*
I'm still pacing, my heart pounding a million miles a minute, when suddenly a drum starts beating. Once, twice, a third time. And it keeps on beating in that same steady rhythm. Shit. This can't be good.
“I guess it's time,” Revlen says.
I feel like screaming, “How the fuck can you stay this calm!?” But I don't. It won't do any good, and I don't want being totally freaked out to be my final act. Then again, I’m totally freaking out.
Hooves rapidly approach, the magical cage door parts, and four centaurs enter. All of them are male this time. Maybe Majenic grew fond of us, or maybe she's only working prisoner potty breaks this month, but in the time it takes me to get in a couple of desperate swings I find myself pinned. Soon my wrists are bound behind my back. It's the same for Revlen, who didn't waste her time making a fool of herself by putting up a pointless struggle. Okay, yeah, I get it. She's a realist. We're in the middle of nowhere, unarmed, without magic, and surrounded by centaurs. We're not going anywhere unless they want us to.
We're marched outside as the drum keeps beating. Well, Revlen is marched, while I'm lifted off the ground and carried since I refuse to move my feet. No, I'm not a realist, and it looks like I'm going out that way.
Then I see Esras and Cade, both bound as well, but also upholding their dignity by refusing to carry on. Cade does look frightened, and I can tell he’s trying to keep it together. Esras walks with his back straight and his head held high. Nothing in his bearing signals that he’s guilty of anything other than being of noble birth. I know him well enough now to understand that he’s carried the guilt of his privileged status for his entire life. His eyes meet mine and, within them, I see a gentle regret. I know instinctively that it’s regret for us not having had more time together.
