by R. J. Price
“We can if we wish to answer to Aren. I would be more than willing to tell Aren who I beat and why I beat them. If she believes I’ve crossed a line, then she can tell me.”
“With a pan to the side of your head.”
“That’s why we have healers with special skills,” Av said. “Show me to Telm. I need to be gone as soon as possible.”
“It’s a little late to start travelling now, isn’t it?” the healer asked.
“Only if I plan on sleeping,” Av said, watching the healer walk away from her desk.
He followed her down the hall to the last door. Of course they would tuck Telm away someplace that a person wandering about the hall wouldn’t think to look. The sign on the door said ‘supplies’ but all the doors had hooks for signs.
The healer opened the door and motioned Av inside.
It was not a supply closet at all, simply a sign on the door to keep prying eyes away. The room was dimly lit by an orb that gave off just enough light to see the dim form on the bed. Av stepped into the room and breathed in just enough to smell the air. No scent of sickness in the air, no putrid smell, which said to him that this was not an illness of the body but something else entirely.
Likely the healers knew that much.
“Telm,” he said, waiting as the form on the bed groaned and turned towards him, “tell me where she is.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Danya awoke in a panic. Sitting up in her bed, drenched in sweat, she huffed out, gasping in breaths as she tried to centre herself. She was in her room, in her home, in her village. She repeated the mantra as she slipped out of bed and stumbled towards the wardrobe. The whole world seemed out of focus.
As spring set in, so had Danya’s dread.
Fear was a powerful weapon, when wielded properly.
Rewel was also on edge, but not because he knew what the spring would bring. He was on edge because the world around them was blooming for the first time since Danya was ten. Flowers and trees, birds and even a bee the day before.
He didn’t understand how one queen could make such a change in only a few months. Danya understood to some extent, but she doubted the changes in the village had anything to do with Aren’s magic.
The queen had been more settled of late, her connection to the village coming and going as it seemed to be shifted to some place that Danya couldn’t quite name. There were times when Aren would look up at Danya and the healer swore there was no connection to the village at all, that what had once been there was simply no longer there.
Rewel hadn’t made comment on these changes. He was too focused on the world outside. Spring was early, so very early, leaving the ground wet and soggy. Yet, still, nature crept in. The garden plots beside the houses sprouted green items. The gardens hadn’t been planted in almost thirty years, when the last seeds had spoiled thanks to poor storage.
Leaving her home, Danya was surprised by warmth. The sun was shining, birds were singing and the cold was simply gone. She hadn’t realized until that moment just how cold she had been all her life. The world seemed inviting and alive.
“Are you all right?” Rewel asked from the steps of her porch.
She wanted to tell him to take a flying leap. The idea of violence occurred to her. Along with the warmth had come an irritable feeling, perhaps caused by the fear. Anytime she saw Rewel she wanted to shout and scream and throw things. Aren had chuckled at being told this, saying that she had always felt that way about Rewel.
Perhaps that was what the myths meant when they said that a queen could influence her people. Danya felt what Aren felt, a type of magic that could be used to control the common people. That same magic could also be used to warn the common people, to protect them from those who might hurt them. If Aren were in pain, surely the entire palace would know what had happened and on some instinctive level know who had caused the pain.
“I feel bothered,” Danya said.
“When a queen is mad, so, too, are her people,” Rewel said.
“What?” She had never heard him say those words before. It almost seemed as if he were repeating back something that he had been taught over time.
“It’s a saying from the palace,” Rewel said. “About how queens manipulate their people. I tried visiting her this morning to bring her food and she threw it at me. Let her go a few days without food and see if that improves her mood.”
All the months taking food and now Aren threw the bowl back at Rewel? There were only two options that Danya could come up with as to why Aren would refuse food. Either Av was nearby or Rewel had put something into the food.
“Give me a moment,” she said.
She went back into her home and closed the door behind her. As she did so one of the Others appeared before her, startling her. They weren’t supposed to jump about like that, but the longer Aren was in the village, the more they moved. The man had once been a healer, before Danya was born. He had been nothing more than a wisp when Aren arrived, but was now solid enough that she had thought him real and living.
“You frightened me,” she gasped out.
“Lavender and mint for a deep sleep in those ones as taken by the queen rank,” the man growled at her.
“Yes, that’s what the book says,” Danya responded, moving around the man.
“Add a drop of holly juice and cause a queen to walk with the spirits,” the man said as Danya moved to her herb cupboard.
“There are no holly plants around,” Danya said.
“That you know of.”
Danya spun on the Other, but the man was gone. He had just answered her directly, created a new sentence in order to what? Warn her? And what did it mean to walk with the spirits?
She turned back to her cupboard and opened the doors. Lavender and mint were items that she carried. The bottles were right where she had placed them, as she had placed them.
But the bottles around them were coated in dust, because Danya rarely touched her herbs. Besides a cough, what else had any of them taken ill with over the years?
Danya closed the cupboard and turned to her empty home. Nothing stirred.
There was only one person who could have moved her items. As strong as the Others became, none of them could move things, let alone dust a few bottles off to draw suspicion down on Rewel. She wondered if she could ask about holly without alerting Rewel to the fact that she had just been warned by the old healer.
She left her home, to find Rewel still on her porch.
“Is there a problem?” he asked her.
“I had hoped I had something to put in a tea to rouse her appetite,” Danya said. “It seems I’ve forgotten the old teas. I will need to read up on them.
“Ah, well—” Rewel frowned suddenly. The man turned towards the road, then back to Danya, still frowning.
“What is it, Rewel?” Danya asked.
“Stay here,” Rewel commanded.
Rewel left the porch and ran to his home, disappearing inside. Danya frowned, wondering what was so important that he would run. She didn’t feel as if there was danger present; even her fear had vanished.
When she heard the clop of a horse on the road, the fear returned very quickly.
Av, the warrior, was there. That was the only explanation. How had he arrived so quickly? Why was the horse travelling slowly?
Danya sat on her steps for fear of her legs going out from under her. Eyes on the road, she caught sight of the horse first. A white horse with grey on its legs, plodding along slowly. Atop it sat a man the likes of which Danya had never seen before.
Which wasn’t saying much, she knew, yet she still hardly believed her eyes. His grey eyes roved over the landscape, over the village, as he came into view, yet didn’t seem to see her sitting on her porch, watching him. He had a strong jaw, which was set and determined. Danya thought him handsome, but she had little comparison.
Just outside the common area, the man stopped and hopped off the horse, unshouldering the pack on his back.
> She heard him muttering something to himself as he set the pack at the feet of the horse. The man jabbed a finger at the horse, then at the ground as if that would make it stay. Knowing that he was a rank, she tried to feel it, to see the difference between a warrior and a commoner, but Av appeared ordinary.
The man was dishevelled and dirty from travelling, his clothing wrinkled and in an obvious need of a wash. There looked to be gravy stains or possibly dried blood on the front of the shirt.
Rewel came out of his home with an axe in his hand, approaching Av cautiously. Of the pair ,Rewel was older by a few years. With the way Aren had spoken of Av, Danya had always assumed he was a young warrior. He wasn’t, though. He was old enough to have years of experience in fights. Av was also larger than Rewel, not much taller but a great deal more muscle.
Rewel gave Av some ground, but not as much as a commoner should have. Av met Rewel’s eyes and frowned ever so slightly.
“This your village?” Av asked.
“Yes, it is,” Rewel said with authority.
A few normal folk had stumbled into the village before, back when things had first happened. Danya didn’t recall those visits. A person—a real, outside person—was standing in her village, within calling distance. All she had to do was raise her voice and Av would hear her.
The warrior shifted his head, but not his body, towards Danya. The fear prickled through her as those eyes roved over her, then returned to Rewel. Av was dismissing her, deciding Rewel was more dangerous than a healer with little magic of her own. While she could have reached for Aren, at least she thought she could, that would only draw Av’s ire on her. Surely the warrior would recognize the feel of the magic of the woman he claimed.
“I’m looking for a wayward woman,” Av said with a slow grin. “I’ve come to take her home.”
“No women have been through here. It’s just me and my mate,” Rewel said.
“If she’s your mate, then my woman’s actually a man,” Av said. “That’s an unclaimed woman and this here is land filled with queen’s magic. Let’s try this again. My name’s Av, I’m here for Aren, queen who sits the throne. You’d best be getting on with telling me where she is, before I burn your pretty little village to the ground.”
“Queen who sits the throne?” Rewel asked, looking at Danya.
She could only stare back at Rewel, mute. What could she say in response? That she had known all along? Rewel had suspected something was different about Aren, Danya had passed it off as the queen being linked to others like herself. She had said that Aren was strong enough to sit the throne, but she had directed him away from the fact that Aren might actually sit it.
“Didn’t know that?” Av asked, still focused on Rewel. “Is she supposed to know? Or were you so eager to chain a queen that you forgot to ask?”
“There’s no queen here,” Rewel protested, raising his axe.
“There’s at least one queen here,” Av said, not moving at all.
Rewel had challenged Av, but the young man didn’t see it as a challenge at all. He thought nothing more of Rewel than he did the mud under his feet. As Rewel lunged forward, Danya looked away.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Av ignored the woman and sniffed the air. Everything was suddenly so clear, so crisp. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. Everything smelled of blood, but underneath it all he felt the magic tugging at him.
He remembered the dream from so long ago. Aren screaming, her voice coming from the ground. He followed the thought, looking over the village. There was only one place where a set of steps might come up, he decided, and walked towards it.
Sure enough, there were steps there. He followed them down into the darkness and stepped into a chamber as something lunged at him. Av snarled and batted it away. He was here for Aren, not anything else.
Sniffing the air again, he turned this way and that. The only one in the room was the crumpled form, struggling to get to its feet. Up it came and he looked it over. Little more than a stick, dirty and grimy, touched by the place in nasty ways.
There was no hiding those brown eyes, though. When they locked onto Av, his knees went out from under him. Aren might have been filthy as could be, but she still had the same temper. The queen seemed to float towards him and set a hand on his neck.
For a moment Av was certain he was going to die, certain that he felt the cold of sharp steel against his throat, and then the moment was gone and there was a furious woman glaring down at him. Aren was upset, because he had taken too long. No, because she was dirty, or because she was hungry. Maybe she was angry because he had batted her away, but he hadn’t known it was her, he had to defend himself.
“Where is Danya?” Aren commanded.
Av shuddered at the strength in her voice. She sounded different—why did she sound different?
“Who?” he asked. “The woman?” The name could only belong to a woman, it was a woman’s name and there had only ever been two people in the village. The man and the woman, obviously.
“What did you do to her?” Aren demanded.
“Nothing, why would I attack a woman?” Av asked. “She was defenceless.”
“Then who are you wearing?” Aren asked, pulling her hand away from Av’s neck. She motioned up and down his form, causing Av to look down at himself. The queen plucked something off Av's shoulder between two fingers and dropped it to the side with a disgusted look.
He was covered in blood. “Well, that would explain why she started screaming the way she did.”
“What did you do?” Aren asked.
“I don’t know,” Av said. “The man lunged at me, then the woman started screaming. I smelled blood suddenly, but I also figured out where you were, so I came to you. Why aren’t you happy to see me?”
“I have other concerns,” Aren said sternly. “Like how long I can keep this up.”
“Keep what up?” Av asked as Aren moved to the steps and disappeared up them.
The cavern was dim, the stairs dark. Av followed Aren up the steps, slipping several times when he misjudged the distance. At the top of the steps the sun seemed far too bright. Aren stood shading her eyes and blinking. On her wrist was a black bracelet. It looked as if it had been created with old magic, the type of magic one might find from the enlightened time.
No wonder she had been contained for so long.
“You broke the chain?” Av asked, frowning when he didn’t see where the chain had attached.
“Something like that,” Aren said. “It’s not the first time something like that’s been created, you see. So you just have to mash it in with the others and keep it there until it’s all one lump.”
“That makes no sense,” Av said.
“It makes little sense to me, which I think is why it actually works.”
She marched off suddenly, leaving Av sputtering behind. He had arrived, he had come to save her, but she didn't thank him. She rushed off.
“Hero always gets a kiss,” Av growled at his feet, scuffing at the dirt.
Taking a breath, Av looked up and walked back to the village proper. Aren stood by a porch, her back to the common area. He approached her, realizing that there was someone else with her, a woman by the sound of the quiet sobs. The woman sounded frightened, causing Av to look around for a threat.
All he saw were the bloody remains scattered across the common area. A finger here, a foot over there. Intestines everywhere, as if they had been ripped from a body and tossed about, far flung from the centre of the destruction. There was a centre of destruction, bits all over the place, spreading out from the middle. The only identifiable piece was a head, sitting in the middle of it all.
Av looked down at his hands. A dreaded understanding throbbed through him.
The woman was crying because she had watched Av kill a man. Aren was standing to place herself between the destruction and the woman, as yet unaware of what he had done.
‘Kill’ may have been putting it lightly.
He had heard of warriors tipping off the edge into a momentary madness. His father called it blooding, said that those of rank tended to slip into the madness during their first kill. Not just warriors, but all ranks. It only took once and someone stumbling onto the body, or one witness, and a rank never had to lift a finger to follow through on a threat again.
Yet Av was terrified at what he had done. He was supposed to protect people, not rend them into tiny bits.
If his father were there, he would tell Av that a warrior's place wasn't to flinch away from violence. His duty was to face what was done and remain calm while the women wept and the men shit themselves from fear. Even though he wanted to hide from his own violence, Av forced himself into a calm.
He walked to the porch, looked over Aren, then over the woman.
She couldn't have been much older than Aren, and she was far too thin, and yet there was still beauty in those features. A rank—Av felt it, and then the rank was gone. Blue eyes stared up at Av, so different than the greys and browns he was used to seeing. The only other person he knew of who had blue eyes was Telm.
And the man Av had killed.
He shut down the shuddering revulsion that attempted to roil through him, refusing to allow his face to show the emotion. Suddenly, he recalled the man lunging at him, remembered that he had grabbed the man and flicked the axe away.
Scared the horse off.
Av frowned and looked to the common area. His pack was still there, but the horse was gone.
He swore loudly and turned back to the women, who were suddenly staring at him with wide eyes. The woman looked as if she were about to start crying at any moment. Aren was attempting to convey something to Av with her eyes alone, but he wasn't understanding the emotion.
“I lost the horse,” he said to Aren. “You'll have to walk to the next village. Which is a day's ride, so that makes it over a day of walking and you're a stick and she's a… Well, what is she?”
