by Jenny McKane
But now, he was being forced to leave his home. Agnor wanted a complete change: he was re-structuring his forces in the Far North. He was very unhappy with the fact that the rebels all but controlled the region now. He was sending Everard north. Someone else would lead the meeting, who he wouldn’t name. Not yet, anyway.
And it was immediate. Everard had to pack tonight and head off at first light.
He sighed. He didn’t want to head north. It reminded him of that terrible time, when he had been found wandering in the snow with no memory. It reminded him of Vyheim Castle—burning to the ground. He didn’t want to travel into the viper’s nest, where the rebels were strong, but he must. He had his orders.
He re-filled his wine glass, thinking deeply. Agnor was right, of course. The rebels were moving further south, slowly but surely. The only reason that they hadn’t managed to take more of the country by now was thanks to Agnor’s genius: he had constructed a wall, which ran the entire length of the realm, dividing the south from the north. The High Wall, as it was called, had contained the rebels in the North.
So far. But there was always the chance that they would find a way, and if they did, then the city itself was vulnerable. And that was unacceptable.
Everard sighed, sipping his wine. The Outlying Zone was defeated—entirely. The animals had deserted it, fighting alongside the rebels. They were devoted to the Rebel Queen apparently. They clamored around her, day and night.
The Rebel Queen. Avalon Lund. The woman for whom he had supposedly betrayed the realm.
He still had no memory of her. And he hated her, more than he hated anyone. She had led him into disgrace; it was a miracle that he had been given this chance at redemption at all. And it was because of her that his beloved realm was in danger. She, and her general. The mighty Gwalen. Skyresh Sakr.
He still found it impossible to believe that he had forsaken everything for this woman. Oh, he had heard the stories of the Rebel Queen—about her beauty and her charm and about how she was the most fearsome woman warrior the Academy had ever seen—but it still didn’t seem enough reason for him to have turned traitor.
He drained his glass, feeling suddenly drowsy. He should go to bed; he had such an early start tomorrow. And it was a long journey to the Far North. Again, he felt his stomach knot in resistance at the thought.
***
Everard woke up, heart pounding. Sweat matted his hair to his face, and he was breathing heavily.
It was the second time this week that he had woken up in a complete panic. It was the same dream as the previous time, and it made no more sense this time than it had the last.
He was an old man. So old, that he had long, white hair. He lived in darkness; was it a cave, of some sort? He was always terrified; he could hear the growling of a creature all around him. He would try to get up and run, but it simply wasn’t possible. His legs were so thin and emaciated, they were useless to him.
In the dream, his hope was gone. Somehow, he knew that he had been in this space for years. He was never going to escape. The growl that he heard was just a background noise to his life, which went on and on. It was a never-ending prison.
And then, he would see her.
The woman. She would approach him, speaking softly, but he could never remember a single thing that she said. Leaning over him, she would gaze at him with huge brown eyes, full of pity. He saw her long, brown hair falling softly onto her shoulders. She was tall and slim, with an athletic physique.
She was beautiful.
He would try to speak to her, to get her to stay with him, but it never worked. His tongue was always frozen. She would stare at him, puzzled, and then she would slowly start to recede. He would try to call out to her, to plead with her to stay with him, but it was useless. He knew that this cave was his home—for eternity…
Everard ran his hands over his face. It was unfortunate that the dream had arrived now. He only had a few hours before the sun rose, and then he had to be on his journey north. Would he be able to get back to sleep?
His heart slowing, he lay back down. He closed his eyes, trying to force himself back to sleep.
And then he saw her again in his mind. The woman from his dream.
He tried to shake the image from his mind, but it was impossible. She was here to stay—for the moment anyway. Why did he keep dreaming of her? She didn’t look like anyone he had seen before. And he thought that he would remember a woman who was so beautiful.
Maybe that was it, he thought, sighing to himself. He was lonely. He did nothing except work. Other people at Headquarters went on dates, but he never did. And it wasn’t that he didn’t have offers. After he had been spurned, he had slowly gained people’s trust. They had learned to like him again. And then some women had flirted with him. If he had been receptive to them, he could have had a social life.
He might even have a wife. Someone to share this cold, dark house with. That would be nice, wouldn’t it?
So, why did he resist the idea? He wasn’t saving himself for anyone. He was devoted to his work, but he wasn’t averse to the thought of a girlfriend. Yet, something always stopped him whenever an attractive woman smiled at him. Something… or someone?
He shook his head, again. It was ridiculous! Was the woman from his dream stopping him? A woman, who only existed in his head and was obviously some kind of a fantasy? A nurse, of some kind, tending him as an old man?
He needed to get out more. As soon as he returned from the Far North, he would prioritize it. He was obviously lonely, and it would start to impact on his work if he ignored it.
Resolutely, he turned over and fell back into a deep slumber.
***
Everard could see the city falling behind him. He gazed back at it, one last time, before resolutely turning his horse to the front. He spurred it on. He had many miles to cover today, and it would start to get dark and cold earlier, especially the further that he travelled north.
He had careful directions guiding him to the house where he must go. The Jarle no longer had obvious headquarters or outposts in the Far North. It was too risky; they left themselves open to attack, and the Stromel were so well indoctrinated by the rebels up there that to travel openly as a Jarle, or a Grey Guard, risked being killed. He was not wearing his uniform at the moment.
Agnor had been tight lipped about his plans. He had only told Everard where to go, and that he was sending his top operatives to convene and find a solution to the Northern problem. A radical solution. One that must crush them—once and for all.
Everard sighed, leaning back in the saddle. He understood how frustrated Agnor was. First, the Outlying Zone had been breached; it was no longer under Jarle control. The animals came back and forth from there freely; the prison walls had been broken down. Everard still didn’t understand completely how the animals had been kept in there to start with, but he had been assured that it had been necessary.
It was obviously true. Look at what had happened, the minute that the animals had been liberated. Chaos.
And secondly, the Far North was overcome now—ever since the siege at Vyheim Castle. People never admitted it during the endless meetings to solve the problem, but it was the truth, pure and simple. The rebels held the North.
And they would take over the South. They would invade the city. And then that would be the end of the realm, as they knew it.
Everard trembled in rage at the very thought. Not if he could help it. He would plot and plan and fight until the very last breath in his body. He would not let the rebels takeover the entire realm, and he would defeat them in the North.
Yes, it was his job to do it. He was a commander. But it wasn’t just professional.
It was personal.
These people had corrupted him long ago. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t remember it, or how he had become corrupted. It had happened. He had almost paid for it with his life.
And he didn’t intend to ever let that go.
They would pay.
He would make very sure of that.
Chapter Three
Avalon parted the curtains on the central tent, peering out at the day. Cold, as always, but the sky was pure blue. A good day to continue her journey to the outlying villages of the Far North.
She attached her sheathed sword around her waist, making sure that it was secure. The camp was full of activity; the people were like bees around a hive. She watched men and women sharpening their swords or counting their arrows. It had been a while since they had been attacked, but on this she was vigilant: they must always have their weapons prepared. They never knew what was around the corner; she didn’t underestimate Agnor and the Jarle. They were a formidable enemy.
People smiled at her and made the gesture of respect, as she passed by them. A woman offered her something to eat. Out of politeness, she stopped and accepted the bread that was passed to her, but she wasn’t hungry.
“Have you seen my wolf this morning?” she asked, as she forced herself to swallow the bread.
The woman frowned. “I think I saw her running over the hills,” said the woman. “But that was a while ago.”
Avalon nodded. She felt a small stab of worry, but she knew that it would pass. Hansa was safe. These were their people, and they would inform her straight away if anything happened to the wolf. It was still hard for her to let Hansa come and go as the wolf wanted to. The bond was so strong between them, and Avalon often felt like a mother toward her young, but Hansa was a wild animal. It was in her blood to wander the hills. Avalon had to respect that.
She thought of Aberfa. The new creature, who had been so loyal to her in the Outlying Zone and saved her life. She swallowed down her pain. Aberfa had died in the battle for Vyheim Castle, all those years ago, but Avalon still remembered her.
Aberfa had shown that the new creatures could be loyal, as loyal as the animals. Aberfa had been a gift.
She continued, stopping to talk to anyone who desired it. People often wanted her to arbitrate in disputes or make decisions for them. It still surprised her. It was part of being queen, she knew that, but it had been hard to get used to, the reverence they felt for her.
At last, she made it to where the horses were tethered. This was part of her morning ritual, to come and greet them. And one special one, who had bonded with her when they had first attacked the Jarle in the Far North. Her name was Sidsel, and she had become as precious to Avalon as Hansa was.
She walked up to her now. The white horse nickered in greeting, her brown eyes gazing on Avalon warmly. Avalon rested her head against the horse’s nose, humming in greeting.
Did you sleep well, my friend?
The horse whinnied, nodding her head up and down. Avalon looked her over. Sidsel was the most magnificent horse that she had ever seen. Pure white, she was taller than most others. She had come to Avalon like a vision out of the mists of a great fjord, riding up to her and falling onto her front legs in front of the woman.
You are my queen, the horse had said. I am here to serve you.
They had been inseparable ever since. She had ridden on Sidsel’s back into every battle, except when she was approaching from the air. Then, she would ride on the back of one of the winged creatures who had pledged allegiance to her.
She whispered to the horse now, nudging her gently with her face. Sometimes, it seemed that this was the closest that she came to affection anymore. With her animals. Oh, she knew that the people loved and respected her. She was their queen, but there was always a slight distance between them and her. They could never fully relax around her.
She stroked the horse’s white fur, gaining comfort from the motion, and that was when she saw them in the distance.
They were strolling away from the camp, towards the edge of the great fjord that they were camped near. A man and a woman. The man was tall and clothed in a brown tunic. He had a warm cloak draped around his shoulders. Avalon could see his brown hair falling loose over his shoulders. The woman gazed up at him, smiling. She was wearing a black cloak, and the hood had slipped slightly to reveal the bright auburn of her hair.
Skyresh and Minna. The sight of them together stabbed her heart, just as freshly as when she had first seen them together. Why didn’t it get any easier? It had been years now.
As if he felt her eyes on him, Skyresh turned. Their eyes locked together for a moment. His vivid blue eyes with her large brown ones.
Avalon blushed and turned away quickly, burying her face into Sidsel’s white coat. When she looked up again, they had disappeared.
Pain flooded through her, and tears sprang into her eyes. Sidsel sensed her distress and nudged her gently. Avalon took a deep breath, gazing at her beloved horse.
And then she saw Hansa bounding towards her. The great wolf leapt at her, knocking her to the ground and licking her frantically. Avalon laughed, pushing against the wolf’s head.
Hansa, she said, laughing. Enough.
She buried her head into the wolf’s fur, her heart overflowing with gratitude. It was enough that she had her animals. She didn’t need anything else.
Staring into the wolf’s yellow eyes, she offered up a prayer of thankfulness to the Goddess that she was not completely alone.
It had been harder being a queen than she had ever imagined. So many hard decisions that she had to make alone. She never completely knew whether she had done the right thing in so many ways.
***
Avalon took a deep breath and stared at the faces of the people seated around her.
It was a council meeting in her large tent.
These were the people who governed alongside her. Her most trusted allies. And yet, she always felt that they were watching her, waiting for her to slip up. Some still didn’t completely trust her. They remembered that she had been a Grey Guard, their mortal enemy. Even after two years of leading them, and even with the endorsement of the Mothers, they still saw her as separate.
A woman who had been born a Jarle. A woman who had led a life of privilege while the Stromel suffered. They wore their hardship like a badge of honor.
To her right sat Skyresh. He was gazing around, not looking at anyone in particular. Avalon knew that he suffered through these meetings; he was a man of action, not words. Arguing back and forth about strategy and logistics bored him.
On her left sat Mother Asta, the highest ranked Mother amongst the Northern Stromel. Avalon had first met her years ago when she was still a guardian of the realm and had been taken captive by the rebels. Of all the people sitting here, she was closest to this Mother. She would turn to her for advice, and the Mother would guide her. It was Mother Asta who had initiated her as an Anasta warrior and was her mentor.
Avalon felt tears spring into her eyes, as she remembered the other wise woman, who had guided her in the Outlying Zone—Mother Oda—who was lost to her now.
Next to Mother Asta sat Brunn, the large man who had been imprisoned alongside Skyresh. Brunn was tactical leader; he knew the terrain of the Far North like the back of his hand. Avalon trusted him, but she knew that he still hadn’t forgiven her for betraying the rebels.
They were a tight knit group, the old rebels. And she was still the outsider.
Her gaze fell on the other woman, Minna, who sat next to Skyresh. Minna was laughing at something Skyresh had said to her. Her green eyes flashed, and she tossed back her long, auburn hair. Then, as if sensing Avalon’s gaze on her, she turned her head and stared at the queen.
There was no affection in that green gaze. As always, there was a challenge. Even after all this time, Minna still thought that Avalon was a threat to her love for Skyresh.
Avalon sighed. She looked away, blinking rapidly. She didn’t care if Minna never liked her. The other woman had won, hadn’t she? What else did she want from Avalon?
Next to Minna sat Naved Escolen. The mayor of Blaimri, the small village that she and Everard had infiltrated as guardians. He was a flamboyant man, Escolen. Born a Jarle, he had been working secretly for the
rebels for years. He had insider knowledge of the Jarle, and what tactics they would employ. He could anticipate their countermoves and still had contacts in the South, who fed him information.
Avalon liked Escolen. He was almost like a father to her, although he didn’t trust her completely either. Would any of them…ever?
Her reverie was interrupted by Mother Asta, who had started pounding on the ground with her staff.
“The session is commencing,” said the old woman in her gravelly voice. “All rise for your queen.”
They rose to their feet, a bit reluctantly. Turning towards Avalon, they made the gesture of respect towards her. Skyresh pinned her with his blue eyes, gesturing slowly. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She had never gotten used to this mark of deference towards her. Maybe if she had been raised as a queen, it would have been different.
“Thank you,” she said, inclining her head. “You may all sit.”
They sat down. Avalon cleared her throat, and then she turned to Escolen.
“What are the latest reports from the South?” she asked.
Escolen smiled, baring his startlingly white teeth. “I have new information,” he said, speaking to the group. “Agnor had a top-secret meeting with his ministers and commanders last week. My source in the Palace has told me the gist of it.”
“What is happening?” asked Skyresh, leaning forward.
“They are sending their top brass north,” said Escolen. “To their safe house. From there, they are formulating a new plan of attack on us.”
“Have we located the safe house?” asked Avalon, staring at the group. “Brunn?”
Brunn shook his head slowly. “They keep changing it. We found the location of the previous one, but by the time we got there, they were gone.” He stared at Avalon. “I am working on it, my queen. I have eyes in every corner of the Far North, and they will inform me as soon as we know where they will all be heading.”
Avalon sat back, thinking. “What else was said in this meeting, Escolen? Did Agnor outline anything of what this new attack might look like?”
