by Sarah Dalton
“Out of my way, Brother Mikkel. I wish to see my brother.” I wish to see him dead. “Archers, your new target is the prodigal Prince Luca! Await my command. Nock!”
The men nocked their arrows and aimed towards the solitary figure climbing the hill. Stefan took a step forward, making sure to remain far enough away from Luca so that the arrows would not hit him in an attack.
“Stop!” Stefan bellowed. “That is quite close enough, brother.”
“Very well.” Luca stood.
Stefan hardly recognised the boy. He was taller, stronger, and tougher. His hair was short, his soft face hardened, and he was covered in mud. There was blood on his sword, and a glint in his eye that Stefan had never seen there before. The boy was a mess, yet jealousy arose from Stefan as he gazed upon his brother’s visage. Prince Luca had grown into a fighter. Stefan stood straighter. So be it; Stefan was a commander, and he had led his army into a victorious battle.
“Your men cannot win, brother. Are you here to surrender?” Stefan asked.
“I am here to surrender myself,” Luca replied. “Leave the camp alone and take me back to father. I know he wants me dead, and if that is the case, he can kill me himself.”
Stefan laughed. “It is not Father who wants you dead, brother. It is I.” Stefan took satisfaction in watching Luca’s eyes widen in surprise. How stupid was the boy?
Luca let out a sigh. “Of course. I do you a disservice, brother.” Luca’s voice was sharp, sarcastic. “After Matias died and I went into hiding you became heir to the throne. You would not want my living getting in the way of that.”
There was a squawk in the air. Both Stefan and Luca raised their heads to the sound. Stefan could have sworn that the sound was from a hawk, and yet it was strange that a hawk would fly over the foothills at night. Perhaps it was here for the dead already. Soon crows and wolves and mountain lions would fill their bellies with the dead. Stefan shuddered.
“So be it,” Luca said. He dropped his sword to the ground. “Execute me. I killed our brother, Matias. It was not intentional, but it happened and I deserve to die. But leave these people be. They have done nothing to the king.”
“Except train for battle while hiding like cowards. They are blasphemous to the Prince of Truth, Anios. They are sorcerers and deserve to die for their crimes. And tell me, brother, what kind of sorcerer are you? Are you a dragon, dear brother? Did you breathe fire on poor Matias and burn him to ashes?”
Luca hung his head. “No. I am no dragon.”
“A common fire wielder, then? Father always said they were common as coppers, but the dragon is a golden crown. Do you remember? He said a lot of things about the Menti. Do you remember what he used to say?”
“Yes.”
Stefan could not help but smile. “He would say that by using their powers of sorcery, the Menti damned their eternal souls. He said that the Menti were little more than animals to control and nothing like men at all. Their minds are defective. They cannot think like I can, or Brother Mikkel here, or even General Tyca. Poor, poor, Menti.” He pouted, enjoying himself. “When I kill you, your soul will shatter into a thousand pieces and you will cease to exist.”
“I do not care for my eternal soul. Just stop killing those people in the camp.”
“Execute him, good prince,” Mikkel interjected before Stefan could speak. “Now is the time.”
Stefan turned to glare at Mikkel. How dare he speak in such a way? How dare he undermine him? He rubbed at the soreness in his thumb, still throbbing from the bite, and now turned a slight purple colour. Overhead circled the hawk, squawking and flapping its wings like a mad thing.
“I mean it, brother. Stop the killing or I will be forced to stop you myself,” said Luca.
Stefan turned on him, striding towards his brother, not caring about the range for the archers. “You will not threaten me! Who do you think you are? You are no prince, that is for sure. You are a common murderer and a Menti. Father sent me here to rid the world of things like you, and that is what I intend to do. I will begin with you, and then I will slaughter your friends one by one.” Stefan drew his sword and approached Luca.
Luca snatched his sword from the ground and the two blades met. Stefan attempted to knock Luca off balance with his blow, but he was surprised to discover that Luca was far stronger than he ever had been back in Nesra’s Keep. In fact, it was Stefan who found himself stumbling back up the steep slope, blocking Luca’s blows as best he could. His brother came at him from every possible angle, forcing Stefan to fight defensively, dodging and ducking and parrying until sweat formed along his forehead. Enraged, he threw himself as his brother, knocking him onto the hill. He lifted his sword, ready to force it down through Luca’s throat, when Luca punched him hard on the chin, throwing him back. Stefan leapt to his feet, but Luca was one step ahead. He grasped Stefan from behind and placed the dirty blade of his sword against his throat.
“Stop the fighting and I will come with you to Nesra’s Keep,” Luca said.
“Kill him!” Stefan commanded. “Loose!”
“No,” General Tyca commanded. “It is too dangerous, Your Highness. The arrows will hit you.”
In the fray, Luca and Stefan had been turned around to face the other men. That was when Stefan realised Brother Mikkel was not with the rest of his men. He is behind us, Stefan thought. He will end this once and for all.
“I do not wish to kill you, brother,” Luca said. “Despite everything you are still my brother and we were raised together as children. I have never wished harm on you. But I must protect those people in the camp. They do not deserve to be slaughtered like animals. Menti are not animals—we are men, women, and children, with the same thoughts and minds as men. Our powers are not evil, I have learned that now—”
Luca’s prattling was interrupted by a cry and the beating of wings. Luca’s grip loosened on Stefan, giving Stefan the opportunity to break free. General Tyca was immediately at his side with his sword drawn. Behind Luca, Stefan saw the great hawk clawing at Mikkel, whose dirk had fallen to the ground.
“You meant to stab me in the back,” Luca said. His voice was breathless with surprise. “You knew he was behind me, Stefan, and you would let me die a dishonourable death.”
“It is the death that befits a sorcerer.”
Stefan attacked with his general, running at Luca while his back was turned. Luca spun on his heel to face them, and in that brief moment, Stefan saw a hardness in his brother’s eyes that almost forced him to feel pity. He saw the betrayal of his actions etched into Luca’s face. And then Luca lifted his hand, and the world went white.
Intense heat burned at his face and chest. A high-pitched scream ripped through the air. It all happened in the space of a heartbeat, but at first Stefan thought the scream came from him. Then he realised it did not. The scream came from General Tyca as he perished in the flames. Stefan, though burned, was not perishing. He was changing.
The sensation was almost a relief, as though his body had been waiting for this moment for his entire life. It felt natural and unnatural all at once. He could feel his bones moving beneath his skin, slipping and sliding into place. His arms extended, further and further until they were no longer arms but great wings reaching out to the sky. His skin hardened under the flames from Luca’s hand. When he looked down at his body, he saw the scales. His breath was deeper and raspier, and his feet were more like great scaled paws with sharp talons.
Luca stumbled away, tripping over his heels, his face slack with shock. Stefan opened his mouth and roared. And as he roared, a great plume of fire was expelled from his jaws. He saw Mikkel take cover behind a rock, and Luca narrowly missed the flames by sprinting away. Stefan stopped his great roar of flames, and turned to follow Luca. He flapped his wings, but he could not get enough traction to fly. He did not know how to fly. He followed Luca on foot, with his great clawed feet pounding the ground. He was taller now, towering over the men below. He saw many standing in awe, pointing in
his direction. Bow to me, he thought.
And then he saw Luca, with a girl now, the one with the water. Another Menti joined them, the one with the air. Flames burst from Luca’s hands, hitting Stefan in the chest. His scales protected him, but the fire still burned and he roared in pain. He reciprocated by roaring fire, but this time the girl with the water powers let loose a plume of water, cooling his flames, along with a gust of wind from the other, which blew the rest of his fire-breath away.
Stefan felt suddenly exhausted and afraid. He had never transformed into a beast before, and he did not understand the extent of his powers or how to utilise them. When another stream of fire hit and burned his wing, Stefan turned and began to run away. He ran with great lolloping strides away from his burned men. He ran up the next foothill and down the slope on the other side, all the time attempting to flap his wings and failing.
I am worth a golden crown, he thought. I am a dragon. Yet I cannot even win as one.
Reva
It was the first time Reva had seen the destructive nature of fire. Lottie had set fire to the straw inside the storehouse, and soon the barn was completely alight, forcing the Sisters and guards to scurry through the courtyard carrying pails of water. Half the water slopped over the edge of the bucket onto the stones. Thick black smoke plumed out from the barn and disappeared into the dark sky above. Orange and red flames danced, and loud bangs and pops sounded from the fire as the contents exploded from the heat. Reva felt the strong heat on her skin as she directed the prisoners through the courtyard.
Many of them held hands as they moved, which was what Reva had instructed them to do. With the difficulty of movement from the chains, it only took a mere trip to send any number of them tumbling to the ground. But if they held each other, they could balance more easily and not lose anyone in the process.
The courtyard gate loomed ahead, made from tall, thick wood. Lottie had the keys from the guard, which was a stroke of luck and made the plan even easier. Reva held the knife from the kitchen, gripping it hard with her sweating palm. Karine was next to her, carrying the heavy ladle. Reva hated to admit it, but she was afraid now—more afraid than ever. But it was not for her own life; at least, not just for her own life. It was the lives of the girls around her that concerned her. She had instigated this mad scheme to escape from the prison. She had asked Lottie to set fire to the barn. She had hidden the stolen items from the Sisters and tied up Rosa to stop her running to Sister Valeria. They were looking to her for leadership, but the truth was, she was not exactly sure what to do next.
The plan was to get through the gate and get out of the prison. But what if they were seen? It was night, but the fire was so bright that they were easily visible in the courtyard. Yes, the Sisters and the guards were busy putting out the fire, but they would still stop the prisoners from escaping.
And then she had a thought.
Instead of heading straight to the gate, Reva veered left towards a small shed of gardening and farming equipment kept in the courtyard. Karine bashed the old lock with her ladle and the shed door swung open with ease. The Sisters were not concerned with a shed when their prisoners were locked away and their guards kept watch every night from the garrison.
“Pick up anything you find that might be a weapon,” Reva said to the girls and women behind her.
One woman retrieved a pitchfork. Another took a heavy trowel. Reva smiled to herself when she saw Oona take the shovel Reva had used to clean out the pigsty every morning. Yes. Now the prisoners had the chance to fight their captors with the tools they were forced to work with every day of their imprisonment.
They hurried out from the shed after most of the women had found a tool with which to defend themselves, and made their way to the gate. Reva led the women around the perimeter. The storehouse lay to the west of the prison, so they stuck to the shadows in the east of the enclosure, keeping themselves as flat against the wall as they could. Reva passed the sty as they came closer to the gate, and thought of the little pig that liked to nip at her toes every day. She thought of the filthy footwraps she wore daily and the filthy tunics they could rarely exchange or wash. She thought of the freezing cold water that was poured over them as a sorry excuse for a bath, and the nights they lay shivering and wet, trying to get enough sleep for the day of hard labour to come. She thought of the guard sitting with the Sisters eating fresh grapes, flatbread, and olives, while they survived on thin broth and hard bread. But most of all, she thought of Ammie bleeding into the forest floor while Sister Valeria stood over her.
Reva had to force herself to get to the gate. She longed to run towards the flames, to find Sister Valeria and drag her into the fire so she could watch her burn. But she had a responsibility to the women. She had to open the gate. She nodded to Lottie, who had the key to the lock. Then, she and Karine lifted the heavy bar that blocked the wooden gate. That was the easy part. The next gate, on the outskirts of the animal enclosures, was a heavy portcullis that had to be hoisted up. They had been lucky so far, but the guards still resided on the look-outs next to the portcullis, and that was the one part of her plan that had kept Reva awake at night. She had been watching as they had crossed the courtyard and she had not seen anyone leave or enter the courtyard via the main gate, which meant the guards flanking the portcullis would still be there.
They opened the gate wide enough to let through the women two at a time, but not so wide that it attracted attention. As the prisoners filtered through, Reva passed the knife to Karine.
“When you get to the portcullis, climb the steps to the look-out platform on the wall and silence the guard. Have Lottie do the same on the other side. They will be watching the fire and not expect you. Are you strong enough to force the blade through a guard’s throat if you have to?”
“Yes, but—”
“Good. Then take his sword and get three women to work the hoist for the portcullis. Send another three to open up the cowshed, the stables, and the goat enclosure. The animals are worth more than we are. If the animals escape, the Sisters will round them up before they will chase us. Get as many of the women on horseback as you can. Three of us will fit on one horse, we are all light as a feather. Oona might need one to herself—”
“Why are you telling me all of this? You can do it yourself!” Karine’s eyes were glassy in the orange glow of the fire.
“I need to go after her. I need to make her pay.”
“Raina,” Karine said.
“Do not… That is not even my name.”
“I know that,” Karine said. “Do you take me for a fool? Of course your name isn’t Raina, and you’re not a merchant’s daughter. You’re the lady to a dead Lord and someone that the king or the prince is looking for. Don’t give me that look. I know you haven’t entrusted me with your name, but you have trusted me with your life, so you think something of me. Heed my words, my lady, going after her will bring you nothing. You will not be satisfied, you will not find justice—you will find nothing but emptiness and certain death. Come with us and live.”
The last of the prisoners slipped through the gates as Reva turned to face the burning storehouse. She could not see Valeria’s face, though she recognised many of the guards and Sisters as cruel and violent people. And yet, perhaps Karine was right. If Reva went to exact her revenge, would she even have an opportunity? Reva had lived her life by surviving. She had survived her parents’ murder. She had survived her unpleasant marriage and all her stillborn children. She had survived the raid on Unna Castle, and Prince Stefan’s men in Hareno. Now she must survive once more. She nodded to Karine, and they passed through the gate, pulling it closed.
They moved through the shadows towards the stables. As they moved, Reva whispered her plans to the prisoners. First, they would have two women slip into the stables and begin bridling the horses. Reva and Karine were to silence the guards. They chose five other prisoners to let out the cattle and goats after Reva and Karine both waved linens as a signal. Then, the horse
s would be brought out, and the portcullis would be opened. It was a lot to ask of her women and yet she had faith in them. She glanced at the faces of the women now, as they clutched their tools and weapons in tenacious fingers. They were strong women, all of them, brave in the face of real fear, real danger.
When they reached the stables, Reva nodded to the two women she had chosen, Angelica and Eloise. Both were familiar with the horses, as well as strong and capable. The Sisters might have fed the prisoners little more than what they needed to survive, but the farm work had strengthened them and made them hardy. Reva knew Angelica and Eloise would succeed. It took no more than a few attempts to open the stable door, and the two women slipped in quietly while the guards were preoccupied with the fire. Reva could see their faces turned to the fire, their flesh lit by the orange glow. Her stomach lurched at the thought of confronting the guards. She recognised them both. They were young, fit, and deadly. She swallowed dryly.
On went the prisoners in their solemn line. Next it was time for the women to slip across the other side of the enclosed space to where the cattle barn and goat herd were. Reva instructed all the women to press their bodies against the wall directly beneath the two guard towers. Then she ordered five women towards the enclosures, watching in the dark as their faint silhouettes melted into the shadows. She prayed that the commotion in the storehouse hid the sound of their chains. She could barely hear them herself.
Have they found the hall empty yet? Reva wondered. If they found them too soon, all their work would come crashing down. It could happen at any moment. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves.
“Karine,” she whispered.
The girl turned to her.
“Swap weapons with Oona.”
“Why, Raina?”
“Because you must take out your guard with one blow, and you need a bigger weapon to do it with. We will walk up the steps together. Count with me.” Reva counted with Karine until they established a rhythm. “One step per count,” Reva continued. “I counted the steps the last time I came to the fields. There are forty steps on each tower. One step per count. On the forty-first count, you hit the guard as hard as you can with the shovel so that he goes down. If he does not go down on the first hit, do it again and again, do you understand?”
