Gambit of the Gods

by Ashley, Angela

  “If you send your animals against my warriors again, I will beat Artan until he dies,” he promises, his eyes intent on mine. “Are the other Elders worth the price of your dear brother’s life?”

  I shake my head, knowing I can do no more. He gestures, and they begin to drag me away. Glancing behind me once, I see him standing in front of the next Elder, his knife at his throat. Unwillingly, the Elder begins to unbutton his shirt. Artan is surrounded by men with clubs held at the ready above his head.

  Reaching out once more to my animal friends, I again set my mind-voice to be heard by as many as I can.

  Let the other men through, both the ones fleeing ahead and all those chasing them behind, I tell them, my mind picturing them moving away deliberately to let both pass. Showing them an image of my brother being struck and the men who threaten his life, I explain, I must choose the life of my brother over the others. Please help me save him.

  They send back their understanding and reassurance. I sag briefly in my captors’ arms in relief. My brother will live to see tomorrow, at least. But the cost is so great.

  I crane my head over my shoulder for one last look at Spark, willing him to look at me. But he has retaken his seat and is staring at nothing. How can he just sit there and let this happen? Why did he betray us? And who isthis ‘Lady’?

  Chapter 22: Malyse

  Today is the day; the day I will bait my trap. Staring out the window, I glimpse a butterfly floating past the glass. Those wings carry with them memories of my childhood. I sigh and pause, remembering.

  In the animal kingdom, there are weaker species and stronger species. There are predators and prey. The cycle of life and death is very natural, assuring food for all.

  Among the species called humans, there are also predators and prey. That, too, is natural, and, I would argue, just as necessary. Not everyone can rule. Most are too feeble in mind, body or spirit to do so. Those special few of us who were born to rule know it from a young age. My parents always told me I was special, but I never needed them to tell me. I already knew.

  The first time I remember knowing I was special was the day my baby brother died. I was six summers old, and had just torn the wings off a butterfly to tickle his little nose with for my own amusement. Walking into our manse that day and up the stairs to the nursery, I heard the voices of my parents behind the closed door and paused to listen.

  "She doesn't realize her own strength, Mya," Daddy reasoned, his voice quiet so as not to wake little Mandyn.

  The brat woke us at all hours, demanding mother's milk, to be held, to be sung to, to be fed again. My mother's eyes were always glassy and bloodshot now. She barely saw me as she paced up and down the hallway, whispering silly endearments and rocking my baby brother desperately in her arms as he wailed, hour after hour.

  "The nurse says she always finds little bruises on his arms after Malyse visits him, and one time she saw her pinching him. We must confront her, Talin. Perhaps even send her away, just for a while."

  I had my father wrapped around my littlest finger even then. I was his charming, engaging and highly intelligent firstborn. He doted on me.

  "Oh no, dear, Malyse would never do such a thing, I'm sure of that. It's the nurse who is doing the pinching, don't you see? She’s shifting the blame to an innocent girl of six! I always sensed there was something not right about her. We must bring her to the Peacemakers for questioning, and once she's gone, the bruises will stop."

  "But Talin, I found our daughter tearing the leg off a frog just yesterday. She giggled as it tried to jump away one-legged. When I asked her why she would do something like that, she said merely, 'Because I wanted to see what would happen.' That's not normal."

  "Of course it is, darling. I used to do things like that all the time when I was a youngling, and so did my friends. It's harmless. She adores her baby brother, Mya. She says so all the time. She loves making funny faces just to make him laugh. Trust me, dear, Malyse would never hurt Mandyn. I'm certain it's the nurse. I'll go talk to the Peacemakers about it right now and see what they say."

  I darted around the corner into the darkness of the adjacent room just before the door opened. I heard my mother say as they descended the stairs, "If you're sure, dear. I do trust you. And you know, I never liked the nurse either…"

  As soon as they were gone, I crept into the nursery. Little Mandyn was sleeping, his chubby fist over his tiny mouth. If I tickled him with the butterfly wings or pinched him now, he would surely wake, probably begin screaming, and they would find me here. So I stuffed the wings in my pocket and just stood looking down at him.

  He was drooling, I noted in disgust, his weak little lungs barely making his chest rise and fall. I saw the bruise on his wrist and glared at him as if he had told on me. I hated it when Mother stood there gazing at his perfect little hands and feet, smoothing his few wisps of hair down with infinite gentleness as if caressing something precious.

  Even Daddy gazed at him like that sometimes, calling him ‘my handsome little lad’ with such pride in his voice. But I’d always been his ‘beautiful little girl’, his ‘darling, special girl’. Surely I was far more special than this stupid, drooling, screaming brat?

  The blanket was in my hand; I found myself holding it over Mandyn's nose and mouth before I even realized what I was doing. He didn't even struggle, that's how feeble the stupid little thing was. Mother would be able to sleep through the night now and would pay more attention to me. Daddy would keep telling me how beautiful and special I was. And no one would ever talk about sending me away again.

  When Mother came to check on my baby brother later, I heard her wail from my room down the hall and couldn't help but smile to myself. I liked hurting animals and bugs, but in that moment I realized that being able to hurt people proved that I was better than them. From then on, hurting people became my favorite game.

  Mother and Daddy never even thought to ask me if I knew what had happened to Mandyn. I started crying as loudly as I could when they told me he was dead, watching them through my feigned tears as Daddy ran to me and scooped me up into his strong arms. He was crying too, but his weakness was just another proof that I was better than him, and everyone else.

  My first friend was the younger boy who lived next door. His name was Vonnor. He liked to follow me around and I allowed it because he always did whatever I told him to do. I liked to humiliate him sometimes, telling him to pee himself and then making him walk around for hours like that, shivering and wincing as his thighs rubbed uncomfortably against his urine-soaked trousers.

  As we grew older and I grew into a beautiful, vivacious girl who drew the eye of every boy who saw her, I found new ways to manipulate and humiliate Vonnor. He was in love with me, so I’d walk with him into the woods behind our houses and let him kiss me. Then the next day when he met me in the woods, I made sure another boy was kissing me and that Vonnor saw us together. I’d look up, acting surprised, and go after him when he walked away, telling him he was really the one I wanted.

  I played with his heart for years in this way—one day I’d tell him how much I loved him, the next he'd find me with this other boy or that other girl, who also thought I loved them. I never tired of making them all hurt and chase after me in the hope that I’d finally return their love.

  Then Daddy died, right after I turned eighteen. A few months later, I left town with one of my lovers and the money I got when the old manse sold. I didn't tell Vonnor or anyone else that I was going, and I never looked back. A year later, I heard that Vonnor had hung himself in the woods behind my old house.

  When I met Wilde several years later after studying under the foremost biologist in the Seven Cities, I knew he would be a challenge. Like me, he was highly intelligent and always turned heads, but he lacked my predatory instincts. He told me he loved me just like all the others, but didn't beg or plead when he found me with someone else. Once or twice I thought of moving on to my next plaything in frustration. But I like a challen
ge, and in the end, I always get what I want.

  Then the plague happened. It wasn't hard to use his need to feel something to get him to play my games using the unsuspecting Ladies and slaves of the Queensrealm. But unlike any of my other playthings, he left me instead of me leaving him. The memory of it still sends a shiver of rage up my spine.

  At last, it's time. Time to teach him a lesson he won’t ever forget. The Dark Lady isn’t the only one who shall have her revenge.

  Chapter 23: Spark

  Feeling numb, I walk away from the trial with my head down, hoping no one will try to talk to me. Thankfully, no one does. When I went to find my family after we got back to the Village, Swift Blaze caught me up on everything that had happened while I was away. He also showed me to my new hut, prepared just for me as one of The Three. I go there now, breathing a sigh of relief when I push back the flap and find no one there waiting for me. I just need time to think.

  When I met the Lady for the first time and was welcomed into The Higher Path on the night before Little Squirrel left on her Quest, I felt so overjoyed, loved, as if I truly belonged. Because the Lady said I was special, everyone looked up to me, even my own older brother, whom I have looked up to my whole life. Walking through the Village the next day before Artan and I left, I felt like I was in on a very important secret. Every time I passed someone I recognized from The Higher Path, they gave me a little nod when Artan wasn’t looking or smiled a special smile just for me. I felt connected; a part of something big. It was an amazing feeling.

  Even more amazingly, the Lady visited me in my dreams every night after Artan and I left the Village. Her indescribable beauty, the feelings of love that flowed from her, and the praise she nightly showered me with made me want to shout with joy every morning when I woke up. But I never said anything, because the Lady had made it clear that Artan, and anyone else not specially invited to join The Higher Path, must not know of our existence until the time was right. Little did I know what that would mean—that I’d have to stand in judgment against my best friend, her brother, and the Elders of my People.

  But the Lady had been right, hadn’t she? She’d told me that Little Squirrel wasn’t Clan and never could be because of her foreign blood and foreign beliefs. The fact that she had Changed into a bird, of a kind only known in Civitas Dei rather than a Clan Animal, had proven that, hadn’t it? And the Elders HAD refused to bow to the Lady, so they had to be worshipping the Evil One instead. The Lady told me as much many times in my dreams, and the feelings of pure love coming from her were surely real. How could they not be?

  The door-flap rustles, and Fiery Grace’s head appears. “Can I join you for a moment, Spark?” she asks, her dark eyes twinkling in the firelight.

  Both dismayed and glad, I reply, “Yes, of course, Grace, come in.” I offer her a seat next to mine, and she takes it.

  “Your new hut is so large and well-decorated,” she says admiringly, looking around at the exquisite woven hangings on the walls, the fine, blanket-strewn furnishings, and the richly adorned clothing laid out for me on one of the beds. Each tunic has red and black ribbons at the shoulders, just like the one I’m wearing now. Fiery Grace’s tunic has the same ribbons, of course. The red and black paint she wears makes her somehow even more beautiful; almost fierce.

  “It’s much too large and fancy for me,” I say, embarrassed, but she just shakes her head and takes my hand.

  “You’re one of The Three, silly, and you must look the part. The Lady chose you and called you special for a reason, have you forgotten? And soon, you’ll take a mate and fill this hut with children,” she adds, squeezing my hand gently and smiling at me. I smile back, awed that this beautiful girl looks at me as if I’m an Elder, someone wise and wonderful. Someone she would be proud to become mated to…

  “But you must be exhausted from your travels, so I’ll let you get some rest. With Twitching Whisker leaving in the morning with the Outsider witches, you and Swift Blaze will have your hands full guiding us into our glorious future!” She gives my hand one last squeeze. I pull open the door flap for her.

  “I hope we can spend some time together tomorrow night; that is, if you want,” she says, glancing back at me hopefully.

  “I’d enjoy that very much,” I assure her. She gives me a radiant smile before stepping out into the darkness. I let the flap fall.

  “Our glorious future,” I muse, burying my head in my hands. But what kind of future will it be, without my best friend? And what kind of future will she have, if any?

  Little Squirrel’s face forms in my mind—her face on the day we first became friends. I had seen her before, of course. She’d arrived three turnings of the moon before with Thunder Echo, Miklos, and Artan. But she’d already become notorious among the Clans because of her Outsider blood, her pale coloring, and because of the young squirrel often seen riding her shoulder or with its tail clamped around her throat like a strange, furry necklace. She’d borne the stares and whispered comments behind her back with good grace, but that day, Snow Dove and Red Oak of the Fox Clan were waiting for her as she walked alone towards the Learning Meadow. It happened that I and my friends were several paces behind her, so we saw what happened next.

  Snow doves are noisy birds that scream at and attack any creature wandering too close to their nests, and as with many of the child-names the Elders gave the children of the Clans when they had five summers, it was very fitting. Snow Dove was quick to attack, and her mouth rarely stopped moving. She didn’t seem to consider her words before using them, either, but fortunately for her, her older brother, Red Oak, was always there to give a hard shove to anyone who didn’t like what she said. Red Oak was a bully, taller than most and strong for his age. My friends and I had learned to steer clear of him and his little sister. It was something that Little Squirrel had yet to learn.

  “Does that squirrel of yours hide nuts in your hair? Or is it hiding in there itself? Your hair is always so messy.”

  Little Squirrel stopped and listened to Snow Dove, barely even seeming to blink as she watched her. Fortunately Naira wasn’t with her that day. Snow Dove, unabashed, kept talking.

  “And why is your skin so pale? Don’t they ever go outside where you come from? Your face is pale like the moon, and just as blank-looking. And those eyes of yours—grey like stones. I want to pluck them out of your face and make them skip on the river!”

  They were drawing a crowd now.Some of the children snickered, which only encouraged Snow Dove.

  “They say your mother was a Lady from the Queensrealm. Maybe you’d like us all to bow to you? ‘Good fortune to you today, Great Lady Squirrel!’ Is that what you’re used to? I guess they don’t have combs where you come from. Or maybe they use squirrels to fix their hair. Here’s a nut, better hide it up in there so your squirrel can go to work!” She threw the nut at Little Squirrel’s face and it bounced off her cheek before falling to the ground.

  Most of the children were laughing now, including my friends. Little Squirrel put her hand up to her cheek, staring at the spot of blood on her finger from where the nut had struck her, then looked at Snow Dove, her grey eyes suddenly cold. Red Oak stepped forward to tower over her as if Little Squirrel had just uttered a threat, but Little Squirrel stood her ground, saying nothing.

  Her silence proved unsettling for Snow Dove, who reached for her biggest insult yet.

  “It must be embarrassing for Thunder Echo and the rest of his family,” she said, looking up at Red Oak, “having this messy-haired pale-face walking around with nuts hidden in her hair.” He laughed, and so did most of the other children. Emboldened, she continued. “I hear they kicked you out of their hut and you live with the other pale-faces now, at the edge of the Village.” She leaned in close to Little Squirrel and sniffed loudly. “You stink like a squirrel—maybe that was why?”

  Snow Dove was down on the ground before I could blink with Little Squirrel on top of her, pummeling her. Snow Dove started screaming, crying and kickin
g like a rabbit caught in a snare. Red Oak dragged Little Squirrel off his sister and before I knew it, I threw myself towards them. Red Oak drew back his big fist to punch her, and I stomped hard on his foot. He automatically let go of the little girl and I pulled her behind me, but just then Old Bramble came running, having heard Snow Dove’s cries.

  “What is going on here?” he demanded, though he was quite familiar with Snow Dove’s fast-flowing mouth and the way she used it, always counting on her big brother to intimidate her victims.

  “Little Squirrel attacked my sister!” Red Oak accused, with Snow Dove still sobbing pitifully and clinging to him.

  “Snow Dove started making fun of her and calling her names, then she threw a nut at her face and drew blood, so Little Squirrel defended herself,” I argued, turning to show our teacher the blood running down Little Squirrel’s cheek.

  Snow Dove wasn’t bleeding, but her face was starting to swell and darken around her right eye, I could see.

  “I want both of you girls to go to the spirit healer right now. Cloud Dancer,” (that was my child-name, because one time I snatched a burning brand from the fire and danced with it, the smoke wreathing me like clouds) “go with them and keep the peace. Red Oak, you will come with me.”

  Snow Dove, seeing that her tears weren’t garnering the sympathy she wanted, stopped crying and stomped off in the direction of the spirit healer’s hut by the river. Old Bramble and the rest of the littles left for the Learning Meadow, leaving Little Squirrel alone with me.

  Her face showed no emotion, which I was starting to see was her defense against the world, but she said quietly in the Common Tongue, “Thank you for helping me.”