by Jae Waller
He edged Hafelús from its sheath. “I said leave.”
“Nei. Shut up and listen.” I fought to hold Anwea still. She snorted, annoyed at her run being cut short. “Maika doesn’t want to do this without you. So you’re going back there with me right now to apologize to her. We’ve got bigger issues than your marital problems.”
“Just because Parr chose you as messenger does not mean you have a right to get involved. This is between my wife and me—”
“Then go talk to her instead of being such an aeldu-cursed coward!”
We faced each other down, leaf shadows playing across us. If it came to a fight, I had the advantage with the creek, but I’d never truly tested my water-calling against his fire.
Splashes and thudding hooves broke the silence. Gwmniwyr galloped down the shallows toward us. The gelding never spooked at anything.
“Hjalag!” Tiernan stepped into the creek. Gwmniwyr careened aside into deep water and slowed, tossing his mane. Tiernan grabbed his halter, speaking a rapid stream of foreign words.
Waves crashed up the banks. It looked like wind cleaving the surface, but I felt the anta-saidu streak toward us and wheel just past Gwmniwyr. It’d driven the horse here on purpose.
I peered northeast at the white light. “Oh, kaid.”
Tiernan followed my gaze. He swung onto Gwmniwyr and rode off at a gallop. I urged Anwea after them, clinging to her neck as she crashed through the underbrush, swerving trees and jumping logs.
Only a human could set off Tiernan’s warning runes, otherwise they’d light up every time there was a storm. I kept my sight fixed on Tiernan as we streaked along the bank. If he came face to face with a Corvittai in his home—
Anwea flinched as we passed through blinding light into Marijka’s yard. The paddock fence was splintered. I slid to the ground, the reins slithering out of my hand. Colourful spots danced across my vision. I squinted at the house through runes seared onto my eyes. The door hung wide open.
“Maika!” Tiernan sprinted up the dirt path.
I barrelled into him in the doorway. A sweet burnt smell filled my nose. Something crunched underfoot. I looked down and saw dried herbs ground into dust.
“No. No.” Tiernan’s voice was hollow. I peered past him into the kitchen.
Marijka was sprawled on the floor in a pool of blood, the front of her bodice stained dark. She stared wide-eyed at the wall.
Tiernan fell to his knees, collapsing on her body. The sound of his quiet sobbing filled me with an ache greater than I’d ever known.
I backed out of the house and ran. The white light faded. All I could hear was my ragged breath, feet thudding on moss and dirt, weapons clanking on my belt. I ran as far from the creek as possible. When my lungs felt clogged and pain shot through my sides, I grabbed a branch and swung up. I climbed higher and higher until I broke the canopy.
“Where are you, Suriel?” I shouted. A flock of birds rose shrieking into the air. “Come face me! The anta-saidu can’t stop you here!”
Silence. Stillness.
“You promised to take me instead! It’s not her fault! She didn’t do anything wrong!” I leaned into the sky, swaying on a branch. “Is this your way out? You promised you wouldn’t hurt her, so you sent a human? You fucking liar! Cheat!”
I screamed until my throat was raw and my voice grated into silence. Then I pulled together as much water as I could muster. Dark clouds churned into a seething mass. Rain poured down, drenching my clothes through to my skin, battering leaves until they tore.
No reply. Suriel was gone.
27.
WHITE WOMAN
I dragged myself back hours later. Tiernan lay next to Marijka, his fingers knotted into her pale hair. Evening light bathed them in a warm glow. Glass shards glittered around them like stars. The burnt scent lingered from a pot hung over glowing coals, twisting my stomach into nausea. I gestured as if beckoning the fire down. Water splashed onto it and hissed away into steam.
All I found near the house was a reddish smear on the grass. I sliced the turf and flipped it over, leaving a scar of dirt. I groomed the horses without being aware of the motions. I couldn’t figure out how to extinguish the runes, so I resigned myself to the glaring light that radiated into the sky like a beacon.
As darkness fell over Iyun Bel, I sat against the stable with my head on my arms. I couldn’t cry. Even the shoirdryge looked more real in those brief glimpses than Marijka’s lifeless figure. After they carried my parents back from the battlefield it’d been days before I cried.
Eventually the practical side of the situation sank in. I didn’t know Sverbian funeral rites. I didn’t even know where to dig a grave. But I couldn’t bring myself to rouse Tiernan.
“Kateiko.”
My head snapped up. Rhonos stepped out from the trees, longbow in hand.
I sagged against the wall. “Aeldu save me. Stop doing that.”
“I saw the light from the plain. What happened?”
I pointed at the house. In hindsight I should’ve said there was no danger, because he pulled a dagger from under his cloak and crept up the path. He stopped in the doorway, lowered his blade, and slumped against the doorframe.
Rhonos was the best person who could’ve come. He knelt next to Tiernan and spoke in a low voice, coaxing him to get up. Then he lifted Marijka with all the gentleness of a father carrying a child, set her in the bedroom, and asked me to bring a sheet to cover her.
“Her wedding ring is gone,” was all Tiernan said.
Rhonos gripped Tiernan’s shoulders. “We will have to send her off without it.”
I watched with confusion as Rhonos found leftover boards and nailed them together. He explained it was a raft to put Marijka on. Rin buried our dead, but I trusted him to know what Tiernan wanted.
He told me to get some rest, but between the hammering and harsh runelight, sleep was impossible. Instead, I lay in the garden between rows of curling beanstalks, damp soil chilling my bones, and cottonwood fluff tickling my skin. I stared into the sky until the sun rose.
We carried Marijka to the creek and laid her on the raft, her pale hands folded over the silver bodice of her wedding gown. I whispered the Rin death rites and scattered white petals over her body. Tiernan built a pyre of rioden branches above her, set them alight, and pushed the raft into the current. He sang a haunting Sverbian elegy as she drifted toward the ocean. His voice hung in the air long after he finished.
•
The runelight faded by mid-afternoon. Rhonos told me not to go off alone, even to gather food, so we picked vegetables from the garden. I couldn’t eat without thinking how they’d grown under Marijka’s gentle care.
I set to cleaning the kitchen. Her decorative plates with pictures of Nyhemur lay shattered. Mangled leaves covered the floor, mixed with dirt, broken glass, and dried herbs. As I swept, I found sparkling grey fragments by the fireplace. Tiernan’s stone wolf makiri.
No matter how hard I scrubbed, the dark stain wouldn’t wash out of the floorboards. I finally slammed my flail into it, tore up the splintered wood until my hands bled, and burned the fragments outside. Marijka deserved the peace of having her blood return to the earth.
Rhonos repaired the paddock fence and tended to Anwea and Gwmniwyr. He didn’t have Tiernan’s natural ease with horses, but he had a quiet confidence that made them listen to him. I went back to washing vegetables after he noticed me watching. By evening, we ran out of chores and wound up on the grass in front of the house. Long shadows fell across the yard. Clouds of mosquitoes came out, their drone filling the warm air. I swatted at them a few times before giving up.
Rhonos was the first to speak. “I found tracks. One person heading east on foot. The trail stops at a pond a quarter of a league into the forest.”
“I didn’t see any tracks.”
“Then you did not se
arch hard enough.”
“We’re not all as skilled as you,” I muttered, and shrank back as he gave me a look that could wilt a rioden.
No doubt the tracks ended because the Corvittai left on a kinaru. That’d be why the anta-saidu bothered to get our attention. It didn’t care about humans entering its territory, but knew a kinaru meant Suriel.
Rhonos laced his fingers together. “Tiernan told me you asked Marijka to help Suriel. What happened while he was away?”
“I don’t know.” My voice sounded hollow.
“Maika must have contacted Suriel, then changed her mind.” Tiernan appeared behind us. His gaze was fixed far away as if he was looking through the surface of the world. “That is why the Corvittai took her wedding ring. A message of what will happen to me if I refuse again.”
“Hardly anyone knows you were married.” Rhonos eyed me. “Only those who were at the wedding.”
“One other person knew.” Tiernan crumpled onto the grass. “You were right, Rhonos. Someone threw me under the cart.”
“Who?” Rhonos shook his shoulder. “Tiernan. Who was it?”
“Antoch Parr.”
I clamped a hand over my mouth. I suddenly felt like throwing up.
Rhonos was silent for a long moment. “Are you sure?”
Tiernan jerked his head at me. “She told him about our marriage. Parr must have told Suriel to take the ring.”
“He wouldn’t do that,” I said before I could stop myself.
Rhonos raised an eyebrow. “What would you know about Councillor Parr?”
My cheeks grew hot. “Nothing. But Suriel wouldn’t take orders from anyone.”
“Suriel has never shown any trace of love, loyalty, or emotion,” Tiernan said. “I am not sure saidu can even comprehend what motivates humans.”
He didn’t know Suriel spared his life solely because I loved him. He’d never know. I stumbled to the creek, stepped into knee-deep water and threw up, silently apologizing to the anta-saidu.
•
I lay by the creek that night, listening to the burble of water and chirp of crickets. A few days ago, I hadn’t been sure I’d ever return here, yet now my words seemed more important than ever. I’ll always come back. I promise.
For once I heard Rhonos’s soft footfalls. He settled next to me and gazed at the creek glittering in the moonlight. The cottonwood branches were a roof sheltering us from the night. Rhonos was far from my first choice of confidant, but he was all I had right now.
“I have to tell you something.” I kept my eyes fixed on the branches so I didn’t see his disapproving look. “I arranged the meeting with Suriel.”
After I explained, Rhonos said, “Give me one good reason not to put an arrow in your heart.”
“I didn’t mean for this to happen—”
“Yet it did, and you went behind Tiernan’s back.”
“He wasn’t here! How long were we supposed to wait? Months, while a war goes on around us?”
“You could have gotten help,” he snapped. “Marijka did trust other people.”
I glared at him. “Like you? Where have you been since their wedding?”
“Not getting our mutual friends killed through adolescent stupidity.”
“You’re barely older than me!”
“Far less naïve though.”
“Aeldu save me — you’re so fucking—” I tore up a handful of grass. “Look, I messed up. I admit that. But I’m asking for your help now, so help me. We need to figure all this out. Tiernan could be in danger.”
Rhonos drew an arrow from his quiver and notched it with his dagger. “This is marked for you. Consider your death on standby.”
“Fine. Whatever.” I edged away. “Do you think Tiernan’s right? It’s a message?”
“No. I think Corvittai came to fetch Marijka and she resisted, simple as that.”
“Why bother taking her wedding ring?”
“Petty theft. They are mercenaries, not paid well enough for war. The real question is how they knew she was the mage you told Suriel about. Did anyone see you at the logging camp?”
“Nei. No one was there.”
“No one in human form.”
I threw grass at him. “Don’t start. I’ve heard the military reports — not a single viirelei has been found among the Corvittai.”
Rhonos shrugged.
“What if they checked Eremur’s mage registry and narrowed it down to Maika?”
“The registry is restricted. Only government officials can access it.”
My stomach twisted again, though there was nothing left in it. “You don’t think Parr . . .”
“No. He and Tiernan have had their disagreements, but everyone has limits. Parr never got over his own wife’s death. He would not risk putting a close friend through the same grief.”
“Then you have to convince Tiernan. Before he goes after Parr for revenge.”
“Tiernan is not easily convinced.” Rhonos lay back, his long dark hair splaying across the grass, and folded his hands over his chest. “He never forgets I am a decade younger than him. He trusted Jorumgard far more.”
“He asked you to be his stjolvind at his wedding.”
“Marijka asked you to be her stjolvehl. Yet we failed them both.”
I dug my fingernails into the dirt. The evil spirits we were meant to protect them from didn’t feel like a myth anymore.
Rhonos looked over at me. His anger seemed to have burned through. “I want to look into Marijka’s death. It will be easier for me than you to get near the Corvittai. You must keep Tiernan here where Suriel cannot reach him.”
“Tiernan won’t listen to me. He’ll fire that arrow himself once he knows I dealt with Suriel.”
“Do not tell him yet. Only that the creek spirit will keep Suriel away.”
“You just lectured me for hiding things—”
“That was when Marijka was alive. You must stay with Tiernan now. No one else has a way of communicating with the creek spirit. Do you understand? I will help you confess when I return.”
“Fine.” I rolled over, curling into a ball so my head was near Rhonos’s chest. My skull felt too full of mush to care what he thought. I just wanted to be near someone. “I’m so fucking tired.”
“Here.” Rhonos unfolded a bundle and draped a blanket over me.
“Thank you,” I murmured. My eyes watered. I could barely keep them open. The last thing I said before giving into darkness was, “When will you be back?”
“As soon as possible.”
•
Rhonos left the next morning. Too late I realized I should’ve suggested he track down Iannah. Not that it probably mattered — if she figured out who the Corvittai captain was, she could send Airedain to look for me.
I stood in the bedroom doorway, holding a folded cloth full of vegetables. Tiernan was slumped against the wall as if he’d given up on making it into bed. “Tiernan. You need to eat.” I knelt and touched his arm. “Tiernan.”
No response. No indication he knew I was there.
He was like a person asleep. Like his spirit walked in another world. It occurred to me maybe our bodies didn’t have to die for our spirits to cross over. Maybe death was a place in our minds we sometimes found before our bodies were ready.
After a day of cooking in Marijka’s kitchen, with a hole in the floorboards and dried herbs ground into every corner, I decided it wasn’t necessary to stay in her house. We just had to be in the anta-saidu’s territory. I felt it drift through the rainforest sometimes, maintaining ponds and brooks around the creek. I tacked a note to the door for Rhonos, built a stone cairn pointing north just in case, packed supplies onto the horses, and half-led, half-dragged Tiernan to his old cabin.
Days slid past. I slept in the clearing, huddled with my fir blanket, too
worn out to be afraid. Nhys brought rye bread and salted goat from the Blackened Oak, saying Rhonos sent him. The Sverbian cleric who officiated Tiernan and Marijka’s wedding came by and read from a book labelled with the nine-branched tree. Friends of theirs stayed a night or two and helped with the chores. Tiernan barely noticed them. I visited the spot where we sent Marijka down the creek and found fresh yellow flowers bundled with thread.
Still I didn’t cry. I wondered if there was something wrong with me. Maybe my spirit had detached from my body, leaving me stuck repeating the same motions day after day. I wondered if that was better or worse than ending up like Tiernan.
I passed time between chores by reading my folklore book. When I knew the short stories by heart, I moved on to longer ones. The pages creased with use. I was reading by firelight in the clearing when I found a story I’d started in winter and given up on. I squinted at the pages, determined to finish.
A wise woman knew the ways of healing, so people came from all over begging her to mend their wounds and cure their sicknesses. She healed everyone who asked, but when she fell ill no one knew how to cure her. After death, her spirit walked the earth and helped those who spoke her name. People said she always appeared in the moonlight clad in a white dress.
I shut the book. I threw water on the fire and searched the sky until I found the constellation of Orebo, breaker of moon and maker of stars. Was Marijka up there, a fragment of the moon where she belonged? Would she return to this world if I called her? Would I be able to face her if she did?
There was no happy ending to Marijka’s story. No constellations named after her. But I had to believe she was out there somewhere. If not on earth or in the sky, if not across the ocean in Thaerijmur or just out of reach in Aeldu-yan, her spirit would live on in my mind. I’d tell stories about the wise woman who helped everyone she met, whose blood I put in the ground.
Finally, finally, I cried.
28.
TO LOVE A SOLDIER
I smelled a storm one day and put the horses in the stable while dark clouds rolled over. I stood in the cabin doorway watching rain thrash the clearing and lightning streak the sky. Gusts spattered drops on my bare legs. It was a normal midsummer storm, the kind that shows up in late afternoon long enough to cool the air.
