Chosen by Fire

by Harriet Locksley

  “You’re coming with us,” called a rasping voice. They were almost upon them.

  Soon they were surrounded by about half a dozen horsemen, torchlight flashing on helmets and swords.

  “I remember a small copse at the end of this field,” her companion said, keeping his voice low so that only she could hear him.

  “Aye,” she said. “It leads to the road.”

  “If we ride in a half circle, you can slip through into the cover of the trees and I’ll lead them off.”

  “You can’t give yourself up to them!”

  “It would be worse if both of us were caught. Quick now. Trust me.”

  “Fast now, lass,” she said to Lossie as she raced ahead. She was almost at the gathering of pines, the trees opening out their prickly branches like welcoming arms. She might just get away. But what about him?

  The terrible thudding of hooves drew closer. Too close.

  “Go!” he urged.

  She steered Lossie into the trees but stopped, looking back. Metal scraped – a sword being drawn. A horseman was charging, ready to strike and a look of resignation came over her companion’s face, sending a chill through her. As she edged into the deeper darkness of the trees, icy claws of fear clutched at her, but whether she was more afraid for herself or for him, she couldn’t tell. He’s not going to fight back, he’s not going to flee, she thought, realising now how tired he looked, how ready to give up.

  “No!” she shouted, defying the urge to escape. She didn’t think about what she was doing, nor did she know where this fierce loyalty sprang from, she simply knew that she couldn’t abandon this man who had given himself up to save her. Her mind became foggy as instinct took over and all she was aware of was that her fear was turning to ash, burning up in a blaze of fury. More armed men crowded in, torchlight casting menacing shadows on their faces. The sword was a monstrous tooth ready to bite into her companion’s flesh.

  Kicking Lossie, she charged forward, one arm outstretched. “NO!” she yelled again, and the flames of the torches swelled, bursting into a flurry of sparks, fire spreading, leaping into the air, encircling Kaetha and the man who had tried to save her. Horses whinnied and men shouted in alarm.

  “What the—” her companion breathed, his eyes widening in terror at the fire, still fearful as he looked into her eyes, a look that made her tremble. The flames bathed them in heat.

  She didn’t know how she had done this, neither did she know how to make it stop. “I don’t know what I—”

  “That lass did this! Did you see?” yelled a voice.

  “She’s a witch,” said another. “We should retreat!”

  “Coward,” cried a third.

  She gasped as the point of a sword appeared through the flames, darting towards her chest. She heard the clang of metal before she saw her companion’s knife and realised that he had saved her.

  “Get back!” she cried. She thrust out her hand and, in response, flames billowed in the direction the sword had come from. There was a scream and a thud as the attacker fell from his horse. She heard the others backing off, glimpsing them through gaps in the swirling flames.

  They had to get away. She covered Lossie’s eyes with her cloak and encouraged her to move forwards. “We have to dash through it quickly,” she said. However, the fire ahead of them thinned as she approached it, opening out like an archway. They rode through it, still shielded from their pursuers behind them, flaming banners unfurling as they rode away.

  FOUR

  Something Hidden

  It was windy on the rugged hills north of the fields, the air a shock of cold against Kaetha’s face. Finally, she stopped and looked back. All was dark but for the kiss of moonlight on a distant patch of smoky haze. There was no sound of pursuit but she knew better than to think they were out of danger.

  “I don’t want to lead them to Feodail Hall,” she said.

  The man coughed. “What was that?”

  “That was us escaping with our lives.”

  “How did you—?”

  “I’m not a witch,” she snapped, disliking the note of fear in his voice.

  “It’s alright. You can trust me. I wouldn’t have turned you in, even if you hadn’t just saved me back there. Thank you,” he said. She wished she could read his face. “I think you’re right not to go to Feodail Hall. They may well be headed straight there.”

  “Why?”

  “They’ll be looking for someone. But don’t worry, Gwyn and the servants should be alright. They, at any rate, haven’t just threatened the lives of royal guards with magic.”

  Her surprise at his knowing Gwyn was nothing to this revelation of who had been chasing them. “Royal guards?”

  “Didn’t you notice their livery, black and green? But they won’t find who they’re looking for at Feodail Hall,” he muttered.

  “But Gwyn rode out to the woods too. What if she . . .”

  “She’s a sensible woman. There’s a good chance that she’ll either have got back to the hall or found a good place to hide. If you went about looking for her now, you might just get yourself and her into more trouble.”

  There was sense to his words, though she felt sick at turning her back on Gwyn, not knowing if she was safe. In her anxiety over her, she had almost forgotten how angry she was with her. Almost.

  “Have you someone else you can stay with for now?” he asked. “A friend in the village perhaps?”

  She pictured Archie turning his back on her, reaching his front door, leaving the question of their friendship suspended in the air. “No. I don’t think so. Perhaps I can find an inn.”

  “You have money?”

  “No,” she replied, feeling somewhat stupid for not thinking of that.

  “Look, I haven’t got a place of my own nearby but I know someone in Ciadrath. She’d let us stay at her house tonight. I trust her.”

  “No offence intended but I don’t know who you are. How much can your trust of this woman mean to me?”

  “That’s fair,” he said with a laugh. “You don’t have to come with me.”

  She considered her options. “You’re sure she won’t ask awkward questions?”

  “I’m sure she will. But she owes me a favour. I’m Aedan by the way,” he said, holding out his hand. “Aedan Baird.”

  “Kaetha,” she said, shaking it.

  Upon reaching a stream, they rode through it for some way so that if the guards followed their tracks in daylight or brought dogs to pick up their scent trail, they would struggle to find either. With still no sign of being followed, they let the horses drink before continuing.

  Riding on, Kaetha strained to keep from closing her eyes for longer than a blink and her arms grew heavy. She found the level of her fatigue unnerving, like she was coming down with an illness. However, she grew more alert when Ciadrath came into view. It might be risky drawing close to the prying eyes of a city but amongst vast numbers it would hopefully prove easier to hide.

  The citadel topped a hill which rose sharply from the northern bank of the River Eachburn, its distant torches like glowing specks of gold dust. The fortress glowered down at the city of Ciadrath which sprawled across a gentle hill on the southern bank. She stopped at the city gate set into the palisade which encircled the settlement like a wooden crown.

  “That way will lead us straight to the Blue-caps,” said Aedan, “the guards of the city. Come on.” He led her further along until they reached a place where bushes and thistles grew as if they were bursting from the wall itself. Dismounting, they led their horses through the tangle of vegetation and, upon reaching the wooden posts, Kaetha was surprised to hear Aedan knock. He knocked the same rhythm of knocks again, then there was a creak. He led her through a hidden doorway. Coins chinked and a dark figure receded into the shadows.

  The moonlight was bright on the rows of white painted houses. They passed a cluster of workshops smelling of wood, metal and sheep’s wool before turning down a street with houses packed togethe
r like crooked teeth. Some had upper storeys extending outwards so that each side of the street leant towards the other, as if the buildings themselves were spying on the neighbours.

  They secured the horses in a communal stable and continued up the road. Kaetha stopped when Aedan grabbed her arm. She’d heard them too. Horsemen. He pulled her across the street and they ducked behind some large barrels. If she hadn’t known it was a tannery before, she would have then. She smelt leather from the yard behind and covered her nose from the smell of stagnant piss in the barrels. An open shutter above them cast a faint glow of light onto the street but they were able to shrink into the shadows.

  The flicking tip of a cat’s tail from behind a barrel caught Kaetha’s eye and then a man came into view through a gap between barrels. His hair was strikingly dark, unlike most Dalrathans, but he wore the same livery of the other guards. She pressed closer to the wall, barely breathing.

  “What was that sound?” said another man whom she hadn’t seen.

  “We can’t stop for every rat and chicken,” said the dark haired one. “Let’s just get back to the citadel. She won’t be hidden here, if she’s in the city at all. Who would she know in this flea-ridden quarter?”

  “I’m just going to check. I’m sure I heard something, near those barrels.”

  Aedan unsheathed his dagger but Kaetha held his arm to restrain him. The cat’s tail twitched again and Kaetha picked up a spindly twig, waving it in front of the cat who pawed at it. Then she tossed the twig and the cat leapt after it, pouncing into the street, clawing and biting at it.

  “You see?” said the guard, “A cat. Now will you stop being an eejit and get a move on?”

  Only when the echoes of hoofsteps could no longer be heard did they creep from their hiding place.

  “That was quick thinking,” said Aedan. “Lucky that cat was there.”

  “Lucky it was in a playful mood.”

  When they were certain the way was clear, they walked up to a pokey house with an overhanging first floor like a protruding brow. She felt a twinge of uncertainty as Aedan knocked. Hopefully they wouldn’t wake the neighbours. He knocked again. Finally, there was a muffled tread and the door opened.

  “Hetty Taggart,” he said, “looking as formidable as ever.”

  “Crows peck out my eyes!” The old woman lifted her rushlight to Aedan’s face, lowering the heavy iron pan which she gripped in her other hand. “That’s not Aedan Baird before me?”

  He laughed. “It is. May we come in?”

  Hetty peered so closely at her when she followed Aedan inside, that Kaetha smelt the cabbage on her breath and the animal fat of the rushlight. Hetty’s unblinking, watery gaze travelled across her face.

  “Not that you aren’t welcome,” said Hetty, “but what brings you here at such an hour?”

  “The truth is we’re in a bit of trouble,” said Aedan.

  “Bloody Bluecaps!” she muttered. “Aye, I understand. You’ll be wanting to lay low here then?”

  “Thanks Hetty.”

  “Don’t mention it. Not after all you did for my brother. You’d think they had better things to do than punish people for trading, wouldn’t you?”

  “It’s trading connections with Hildervald they don’t like,” said Aedan. Kaetha looked at him questioningly.

  “Though I hear King Alran doesn’t care about other kinds of connections with Hildervald,” said Hetty. “Still, a mistress and a bastard don’t matter much, I suppose, in the great tapestry of things.” She turned to Kaetha. “You got here no trouble?”

  “We did have to hide behind the tannery barrels,” said Kaetha, “and might have been caught if not for a tabby kitten.”

  “You were fortunate. That’ll be one of Mal Graineil’s most likely. He meant to drown that litter. This one must have escaped.”

  “Drown them?” said Kaetha.

  Hetty shrugged. “The Graineils have good mousers but more than they need. Are you hungry, lass?”

  “Er—”

  “Well I’ll have some oatcakes and cheese around here somewhere no doubt.” Hetty lit another rushlight and gave it to Aedan. “And ale of course. Make yourself useful Aedan, the poor lass is fading away.” She nudged him towards a cupboard. “Now sit yourself here.” She pushed Kaetha onto a stool and found them each a blanket. “I’ll sleep upstairs tonight,” she said.

  “Thank you, Hetty,” said Aedan. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be asking for your hospitality.” His gaze flicked to Kaetha.

  Hetty patted his arm. “As long as is needed.” The woman lumbered upstairs. Floorboards creaked and soon a steady snore sounded above them.

  “Here, eat,” said Aedan, handing her a cup of ale, some oatcakes and a wedge of cheese. He sat on the floor rushes, took a sip of his drink but ate nothing. “So, how do you know Morwena?” he asked.

  “She’s my mother.” Although she did not doubt this fact now, the words felt strange, like new boots that needed wearing in. Aedan’s eyes were fixed on hers. It made her uncomfortable so she looked away. He got up and walked back towards the cupboard, though he didn’t seem to be getting any food.

  All at once, she realised how hungry she was, but a bite of oatcake was like a stone edging down her throat. She pulled her woollen cloak tighter around her, only realising then that she hadn’t picked up her own but one of Morwena’s. She ran a hand over the fabric covering her arm, a fine weaving of grey, blue and green, and she breathed in the scent of rosemary released from the fibres, her fingers catching on the round copper clasp which bore the image of two herons. Holding it tightly, the cold metal soon warmed against her palm.

  He returned, taking a seat near her. “I didn’t know—” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t know she had a child. How old are you?”

  “Fifteen. And a half.”

  He was quiet, looking at her intently then lowering his gaze to his boots. “I didn’t know,” he repeated.

  “I want to know what happened. To Mor— to my mother.” Her throat tightened. “Is she—? Do you know for certain that she’s—?”

  He nodded, his brows knit together. “I can hardly believe she’s gone. I can’t imagine what you must be going through.”

  Perhaps he only thought she was dead, Kaetha told herself. Maybe she was unconscious but still alive. Gwyn might have found her, might now be nursing her with her healing herbs. “What happened?” she asked.

  “You’ve been through so much tonight. You need rest. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

  “But I won’t be able to rest until I know what you know. I deserve to hear it.”

  He nodded but it was a few moments before he spoke again. “Your mother had been at the citadel I suppose?”

  “Aye. She was waiting on the princess as she does from time to time . . . did,” she added softly. “She looked after Rhona when she was a child. But why wasn’t she there in the citadel tonight where she was meant to be?”

  Aedan glanced at the top of the staircase, speaking in barely more than a whisper. “Tonight there was an attempt on Princess Rhona’s life. Your mother helped her escape.”

  “What?” Kaetha shook her head as she took in what he’d said. “But who could have—?”

  “I don’t know. Darkness had fallen by the time I left my friends at Orach Bay, heading to a bothy in Bris where I knew I could stay the night. I was nearing the woods, then I – I don’t understand it – it was as if I heard a voice in my head. Morwena’s voice, calling for help. When I answered, she seemed to hear me and told me where she was. I found her by the chapel.” He paused, his gaze drifting from Kaetha. “I’d not seen her for many years. And here she was – she hadn’t changed a bit. I offered them my horse to aid them in their escape but Morwena said I was the faster rider and would have a better chance of getting Princess Rhona to safety.” He took a long breath. “I said I’d come back for her. And so I left her.” He pressed a hand to his temples as if his head ached. “Once again,” he added in a low voice.
/>   “Again?”

  He shook his head, dismissing the question.

  “Where did you take Rhona?” she asked.

  “I shouldn’t say.”

  “But is she alright?”

  He paused. “She was when I left her.”

  “So you went back to the chapel?” she prompted.

  He nodded. “It was strange. Before I reached the clearing, I thought I saw two people there, though the moonlight was faint. A great wind swept up and I rode hard into it. Something seemed wrong.” His jaw tensed as he hesitated. “She was lying on the grass. She was alone. At first she didn’t seem to recognise me but then she smiled. We spoke but a few words and then she was gone.”

  Her throat was tight as she spoke. “How?”

  “I don’t know. I saw no wound. And I’d seen no sign of weakness in her when I’d left her. I don’t know how. I don’t know why. Afterwards, the guards saw me there with her. It pained me to leave her there but I knew they would arrest me if they caught me. So I rode fast, losing them in the woods.”

  “Then you bumped into me,” she said.

  He nodded. “Kaetha—”

  “Aye?”

  He looked as though he had something difficult to say. He struggled to meet her gaze as he twisted the cuff of his sleeve which was beginning to fray like her own. “You should try to sleep,” he said. “We both should.”

  Kaetha laid down, wrapped in the scratchy blanket. Darkness closed in when Aedan blew out the rushlight and she stared into it until she didn’t know if her eyes were open or shut. “Did you love her?” she asked. She wondered if he’d fallen asleep, he took so long to reply.

  “Your aunt was right. Morwena was better off without me.”

  FIVE

  The Path Ahead

  Footsteps fell softly across the room. It was still dark when Kaetha opened her eyes.

  “How long have I been asleep?” she asked.

  “Only a couple of hours I should think,” said Aedan. Metal clicked as he fastened his cloak.