by Emily L K
“The Hearthians have gone east, as we intended.” A few cheers scattered through the crowd. Rowan’s idea, Cori thought sourly. “It’s time for us to move. We need to gain a lead on them before they think to come back and look for us.” He dipped his head to Cori. “Would you like to say anything, Karaliene?”
What did he expect from her? That she could motivate them? Stoke the fire to their bellies? She looked down at them and they back at her. She hated this part of being Karaliene most. The expectation that she pander to the masses. “We’ll leave within the hour,” she told them, then left the room before Tobin could ask any more of her.
SUNNY SHIFTED BENEATH her. She stroked his neck to calm him while her eyes remained trained on the closed gate of Bandar Utara. Orin sat astride a bay beside her, but his head was turned away as he spoke to his grandmother. A little way off Tobin patted his wife’s belly and bid her farewell. The courtyard was clamorous as soldiered hurried by, farewelling family and checking last minute duties. Horses whinnied to each other, their hooves clattering on the cobblestones as they pranced.
Cori smoothed a hand over the leather vest that topped Rowan’s grey woollen shirt. Jhanna had finally relented and designed something practical rather than fashionable though she had managed some gold filigree spiralled into the leather that marked Cori as a leader.
Lend me strength, Cori begged the universe. She wanted to go, to kill the Advisor and find Saasha and have it over and done with. The goodbyes around her grated on her nerves. Everywhere she looked there were fathers hugging children, wives kissing husbands, friends shaking hands. Her fingers tightened on the reins and she lowered her gaze to Sunny’s mane. She didn’t want to admit the reason she was so edgy was because she herself had no one to say goodbye to.
He’s still alive, she reminded herself sternly, studiously staring down at her horse. There was no need to say goodbye because he was going to come back. She couldn’t help herself. She unleashed her Hum. The Hiram fell into her awareness first, their emotions running high and heady. She briefly touched Jarrah, still in the north and aware of her searching, she even thought she might have found Daiyu - the real one that is - but that feeling was fleeting. She didn’t find Rowan. She came back to herself with a pained gasp.
“Are you all right?” Orin leaned towards her from his horse, hand partly outstretched as if he might grasp Sunny’s bridle.
“Fine,” she snapped. He averted his gaze, hurt. She didn’t bother to apologise.
The effort to use her Hum cost more than she cared to admit and it took every ounce of willpower to remain upright in the saddle. She‘d not gained back even a fraction of the energy she’d possessed before going into Hen Goeden. Just that morning she’d checked her eyes in a mirror before leaving. She’d hoped to see some sort of recovery there, but the gold in her eyes was still dark, like honey.
She tried to push her worry away, but it was harder now that their journey was beginning. In a mere few weeks they would be back in Lautan and Cori wasn’t sure she’d have enough magic for the fight she‘d promised Tobin and his people.
Speaking of Tobin... She reached out with her Hum once more and found his familiar presence. Though she lacked Rowan's finesse for this sort of thing, she’d been practising.
Enough, she said, it’s time to go.
“Enough!” Tobin abruptly said, head snapping forward to look at the gates. “It’s time to go!”
Someone’s child wailed, and a woman begged her husband to stay. Cori saw Jhanna’s eyes fill with tears. Guilt stabbed her; this was the last time the woman would see her husband before she gave birth, perhaps the last time she saw him at all. She averted her eyes as husband and wife shared one last kiss.
The men and women going to war mounted up and Cori was aware of her own contingent, around fifty Hiram fighters, forming into ranks around her. Tobin rode forward on his own horse - another bay - and the gates opened.
They trotted over the arching bridge; the hoof beats echoing off the stone and across the water. Cori held tight to Sunny’s mane and allowed the horse his head. She’d only just become accustomed to bareback riding and now they’d put her in a saddle which would take some adjusting.
The people of Bandar Utara lined the walls of the city, waving and calling farewells to their soldiers. The army gained the road on the far side of the bridge and continued south. The field previously occupied by Hearth had been run to bare dirt and Cori looked to the east, wondering how far away Wolfman’s crossing was. And it was lucky she did because far in the distance, she saw the glint of sun on steel.
“They’re coming back,” she warned and not a moment too soon. The head of the army had reached the forested section of the road and a contingent of Hearthian’s on foot burst from the trees, their arms swinging wildly, some with swords, in an attempt to throw the Resso soldiers from their horses.
Without thinking, Cori lifted her hands and pushed at the men ahead. Though she was too far away to aim properly, she toppled a tree over a handful of them. Pain stabbed at her temples and her vision swam. The two armies met with a clash of steel and the squealing of horses.
“Orin! Go!” Tobin thundered from somewhere on their left. Before Cori could do anything further, Orin grasped Sunny’s bridle and urged his own horse into a gallop. Sunny took off alongside the bay. Together they burst from the scrum and the chestnut took the lead, surging down the road and away from the fight.
Caught off guard, Cori scrabbled for the reins, holding tight to the horse with her knees. It took her three attempts to wrench the reins from their tangle in Sunny’s mane and she yanked on them. The stallion spun, tugging against the sudden bindings. Orin and his bay raced passed.
“Stop!” Cori called but her words were swept away in the wind. She caught hold of Orin’s mind with her Hum. Stop!
His body gave a strange jerk, and he pulled his horse to a halt. It had been too much for Cori though; her magic was fully depleted. Her vision blackened, and she fell from her horse.
Chapter Thirty-One
She lay on the road, breathing in the dust that had stirred when she’d hit the ground. Her head throbbed violently, her fingers and toes slow to regain feeling from the fall. Footsteps pounded towards her. Orin appeared above her.
“Are you all right?” He grasped the front of her vest and pulled her up. As she rose, she caught hold of his vest and once she was on her feet, she yanked him down so their noses almost touched.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed. “I could have helped them!”
“Like this? I don’t think so.” He tried to pry her hands away, but she tucked her fingers tighter.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” he said, letting his arms drop to his side, “that I don’t know how Dijem magic works, but I know it’s connected to your eyes, and I know it’s making you sick.”
Unease settled over her at his deductions. She shoved him slightly but he didn’t step away.
“My father told me to look after you,” he said bluntly. She narrowed her eyes. “Get her to Lautan at all costs, he told me, protect her because she can’t protect herself.”
She pulled away, fists bunched at her sides. “What‘s your problem?” she snarled.
“What’s yours?” Finally he was angry. “We’re helping you, are we not? We took you in under suspicious circumstances, a blight against our name, and we gave you an army, did we not? Yet all you see fit to do is treat us with contempt and -“
Cori swore and thrust him away. She had no energy, and her Hiram magic was pathetically weak. Orin stumbled back a few steps, but that was all. She turned away and grasped Sunny’s reins.
“Where are you going?” Orin asked, resigned.
“Away from you,” she retorted. Her head throbbed painfully. She pressed her it against the saddle and closed her eyes, the smell of horse pungent in her nostrils. Was she close to burning out? Would it hurt? She’d almost welcome it to be rid of the pai
n.
Orin came to stand beside her, leaning on Sunny’s flank as he did.
“I heard somewhere,” he began tentatively, eyes on the road and hands in his pockets, “that the Dijem can take magic from other people.”
“You heard that did you?” She shifted her head slightly. He tried to look nonchalant, but she noted the wariness in his eyes. “Where from?”
“Just somewhere. I - do you want to take my magic?”
“I can’t take it from the Hiram, only humans.”
“Oh,” he sounded disappointed, “well there are lots of humans in the army maybe someone could -“
“I don’t know how,” she cut him off, teeth clenched. “I was never taught.”
They fell silent, the only noise was birds in the trees above and something scratching in the underbrush. Not even the sound of battle reached them. Cori turned her face back to the saddle and breathed in its leather smell. There it was, her first admittance of weakness. Fear spiked in her. How was she going to win this war without magic? Would Orin tell Tobin? He didn’t say anything now.
“Help me up,” she requested. He obliged her, boosting her into the saddle, but he caught hold of Sunny’s headstall before she could move.
“Aloofness may have worked for the Karalis but it doesn’t suit you, Cori.”
It hadn’t suited him either, she thought sadly, but no one ever saw the real Rowan behind his Karalis mask. She couldn’t stop the hand that twitched to her chest to hold together the aching hole. The arrival of the army prevented her from replying. They approached at a canter, greeting Cori and Orin with jubilant whoops and reined in their horses. Dust stirred beneath their hooves and Cori noted the blood on many of the soldier’s vests. Tobin trotted to their head.
“What’s happening here?”
“The Lady Cori attempted to return to your aid,” Orin said before she could speak. He released Sunny and stepped away. “I was trying to persuade her otherwise.”
“I only wanted to share in your glory.” She tried to smile. It felt brittle.
“No need, my Lady!” a soldier called. Cori scanned the heads of the soldiers but couldn’t spot the speaker. “Our men chased them in from the barge and they were trapped between us, they didn’t stand a chance!”
“Good,” Cori whispered, “perhaps now Hearth will see reason and join us.”
TRAVELLING WITH AN army proved to be slow going. The horses had to be rested periodically, as did the men and women, and they needed plenty of daylight to make and dissemble camp each day. They crawled along at a pace that made Cori’s skin itch. More than once she contemplated leaving the army and going on ahead but at those moments she would always catch Orin watching her and she knew she wouldn’t get far alone.
The first night they set camp, Cori fell into such as exhausted sleep that Orin had trouble rousing her the following morning. He took one look at her eyes and once more offered to find a human to give magic to her. She chased him from her tent with a string of expletives.
The mornings that followed were easier but although she conserved her magic, her eyes didn’t return to their golden hue. Instead, they stayed the colour of murky water under sunlight.
It troubled her more than she cared to admit. Most of her waking thoughts circled around what she would do if she didn’t have enough magic to even rival the Hiram fighters riding beside her. You’ll burn out to be the strongest, she often told herself. The thought wasn’t comforting, but she was resolved to win this. Rowan wouldn’t have shown weakness and neither would she.
Her dreams permitted her no rest. The dragons hadn’t plagued her since Rowan had killed the green one, but those nightmares had been replaced with one of Rowan. Each night it was the same.
“I love you,” he said to her, fists clenched at his sides. Angry. Angry at her and angry at himself. He hadn’t wanted her to find out that way.
“Be my strength,” he pleaded. Absorbed in her own grief, she turned away.
“I had to,” he whispered and then he fell, first to his knees and then to the ground. The emptiness of his mind echoed through her head and she couldn’t reach him, she couldn’t save him.
She woke, tears already tracking down her cheeks and legs tangled in the blanket. She wrenched it away, gasping, then she pressed her hands firmly into the bedroll, stilling herself and closing her eyes. The dreams were distressing enough, but now she was beginning to forget Rowan’s face.
Where only a month ago it had been so clear she could recall the anguish in his eyes, now the details were fading. She scrunched her eyes even tighter, trying to remember. Had his hair been shoulder length or shorter? Had his eyes crinkled when he smiled? Even the curve of his lips was hard to imagine.
Her eyes flashed open and her fingers rose to her own mouth. She still remembered the way he’d kissed her. The urgency of his lips on hers and the grip of his hand on her arm. She wished they’d had more time.
Chest constricting, she lurched forward to grab her boots and pull them on. It was dark outside, but it hadn’t been when she’d retired to her tent.
They’d stopped early that day, so early that Cori had tipped her face towards the sky in confusion.
“Why are we stopping?” she’d asked. Orin looked startled - she rarely initiated the conversation with him - and he turned his own gaze upwards. The sun had been in the western sky but it was only mid-afternoon. Orin had merely shrugged.
There had been no reason for the early halt, when she’d finally found Tobin for an explanation, simply that they would rest.
Now torch light flickered through the canvas of the tent. Beyond came the sounds of laughter and shouts of revelry. She wouldn’t be able to sleep again now even if she wanted to, and the festivities in the camp made her curious. She pushed open the tent flap and stepped into the mild evening.
Her tent was set apart from the main body of the army, pitched in a row with those of the Resso nobles. She retired there early most evenings, partly in the hopes of recouping as much energy as she could through sleep, but also to avoid being drawn into too many conversations.
The soldiers mostly slept in bedrolls grouped around fires but many of them were still up and about. While she surveyed the camp, she saw more than one bottle lifted to lips in the firelight.
In the fortnight they’d been on the road she had spent little time with the army. She thought she’d be able to walk among them now without being recognised. She’d grown up a servant, after all, she knew how to be discreet. She started forward then decided against it and approached the tent that had been pitched beside hers. She rustled the side of it.
“What?” Orin’s voice was muffled by the canvas.
“Come walk with me.”
Movement stirred within the tent then Orin poked his head between the flaps, eyebrows lifted in surprised. “Are you talking to me?”
Cori looked pointedly at the empty space about them and Orin took the hint. He withdrew momentarily, then exited with his boots on and a long knife strapped at his belt.
“Where do you want to walk?” he asked amicably, hands on his hips. Cori marvelled at his continued patience with her. Perhaps she should try to be nicer. She gestured towards the revelry of the main camp.
“Through there. I want to know why they’re all getting drunk.” She swept a hand towards the army.
“They drink most nights,” Orin informed her.
She fixed her gaze on the soldiers as she tried to keep the flush of embarrassment from her face. If they drank most nights, and she hadn’t noticed, it didn’t make her a very good Karaliene. Perhaps this was why they stopped so early and left so late every day. The realisation stirred a hot and sudden fury within her. Did they think this war was just for fun?
Her outrage only grew in intensity as they wandered through the camp. Some sat about their fires, chatting and sharing stories but more than not were blind drunk and staggering about. Some had passed out cold over their bedrolls and even more showed the telltale signs o
f indulging in grybas. How had she not noticed this before?
When they went past a pair copulating against a tree, Cori turned abruptly away. This behaviour was sickening, and not just because she expected more from her soldiers. Had she really been like this with her school friends? No wonder Rowan shut her out.
She looked at Orin who stood tensely, one hand hovering over the handle of his knife and eyes roving over the people around them. Cori wasn’t worried about an attack. She couldn’t imagine any of the inebriated would associate the skinny girl - barely a woman - who had appeared among their midst with the reclusive Karaliene who was travelling with them. They may recognise Orin though.
“Where’s your father?”
“Probably in his tent.” His eyes were slow to leave a man trying to balance his sword horizontally on top of his head.
“Let’s go then.”
Cori led the way back to the tents reserved for the nobles. Tobin’s tent – the largest in the camp – was illuminated by the candles flickering from within. As they approached, guffawing reach their ears. Cori almost lost her nerve, but when she noticed Orin waiting for her to enter the tent she steeled herself, straightened her back, and stepped inside. She didn’t announce herself and it took a moment for the occupants of the tent to notice her standing quietly by the entrance.
The nobles fell silent, one by one. “Cori!” Tobin said. She knew he was drunk just by his greeting. He never addressed her as simply ‘Cori’ anymore, it was always ‘Lady’ or ‘Karaliene’. She took in the rowdy expressions, the empty bottles, and the smoke from the herbs swirling near the ceiling.
“Tomorrow,” she said carefully, meeting each of their eyes to ensure they all understood her, “we are leaving before dawn.”
