by Sarah Dalton
“When you left, I was dark. When I saw your powers… I was betrayed. I was a fool. I should have known. The worst part of it was the fact that I had almost forced myself to love another woman for no good reason, that I had supressed my longing to know you intimately because of it, and that we had wasted time. Yes, that’s what hurt me the most, the wasting of precious time. I know about time now. I know it more than ever. Forty-three years my mother had in this world. I’ve known her for seventeen of those. It was not enough time. She was ripped from this world prematurely by a monster of a man. A wolf imitating a man. My father. He is no father. No man at all. He is evil to his core.”
I interject, to quell the rising rage inside him. “And do you know why I cared for you even when my heart was almost sealed shut? Because of the goodness I saw in you. You have a light that shines from within; a gentleness. And I needed that. Only my father has been kind to me in this lifetime, before I met you. It is in your eyes that I finally see the good that people can be. Don’t extinguish your light with hatred. Do not do him the service of calling him evil. He is a man, and a flawed man at that. I have seen his fears. I know what is in his heart and mind. He is not evil. He is cowardly, unfeeling, and a murderer, but he is not evil.
“I know what it feels like to want revenge, and I know how it eats away at you. The poison is in your blood, not his. You have to fight against that poison if you want to live. Seeking revenge only feeds the poison, not you. Feed on our love, Cas. We will fight together for the good of Aegunlund, not for personal vengeance.”
“We should be married,” he says excitedly.
My cheeks flush. Instinctively I move away from him. Marriage! From Cas’s disappointed and flat eyes, I get the distinct impression I wear an expression of horror. “Cas, it’s too soon.”
“Why?” he demands. “We speak of love. We speak of what is good for Aegunlund, and marriage is the answer to both those things. We are in love, we should marry. You will be queen and craft-born.”
“Do you want to marry me because I’m the craft-born? Or because of me? No, don’t answer that. Not yet. Cas, this is too soon. We have… I only… it has been days since we first kissed… No. I cannot. I’m sorry.”
“Very well,” he says climbing to his feet.
“No. Don’t go,” I say. I desperately search for the words to make this right as Cas stands by the exit to my tent. “You are still grieving, and still in pain. You must know that I need to be sure you are serious about this, about us.”
“Tell me the real reason, Mae,” he says.
“You loved Ellen immediately,” I say, trying to keep my voice level and neutral. “Whereas is took me time to let my feelings for you develop. You thought of me as a friend, or even a sister, up until a few weeks ago. You need to let your feelings develop before we jump into anything.”
“You think me an impulsive idiot,” he spits. His eyes flash with anger, but it is only for an instant and then they soften. In that moment I see his hurt. I see the raw pain in his pinched, uncomfortable expression. “I should have known that the girl so quick to deceive me would think me a fool. This is all my fault. I… I’m sorry.” He strides away from me.
“Don’t go like this,” I plead.
But he is gone. My heart tells me to chase after him, but my mind stops me. Perhaps he needs time to cool his anger. He is angry with the world right now, not just me, and I can’t blame him for that. It took me time to come to terms with my grief. The least I can do is give him time, too. I curl up on my bedroll and try to pretend that everything will be normal in the morning.
Sasha wakes me at dawn by roughly shaking my shoulder.
“Mae, I have news,” she says. “One of Allerton’s spies has been captured. He thinks it is time to set off to Jakani. The rest of the camp will have to move because he thinks that his spy will be tortured. Men do not last long under the king’s torture techniques. The spy will not stay silent for long. Wait, what’s wrong? You appear to have barely slept a wink. And where is the prince? Don’t look at me like that. I’ve seen him sneaking in and out of your tent.”
“We had a fight,” I say, sitting up and pulling a tunic over my head. “He wants to be married.”
Sasha claps her hands together. “You’re going to be queen. I knew it!”
“I said no.”
Sasha slaps me around the head. “You-blasted-idiot-why?”
“Because it’s too soon, and because I still don’t know if he wants marriage for us or for the good of Aegunlund.”
“For the love of the Gods, Mae, that boy came to you with his tail between his legs knowing he had done wrong, knowing that he had loved you all along. How did he ask you?”
“He said ‘we should get married’.”
“Is that it?”
“Yes,” I reply.
“Oh, well. in that case I’m not surprised you said no. It’s not the most inspiring proposal I’ve ever heard.”
I can’t help but laugh. “But probably the only one I’m ever going to get. Maybe I am an idiot. Cas stormed out of here and I doubt he will ever speak to me again.” My stomach squirms. “This is ridiculous. I should be worried about the king, not this.”
“Forget what you should and should not worry about, and let yourself feel. Holy Celine, you deserve this indulgence after everything you’ve given up, and you deserve happiness with the man you love. Don’t throw away that opportunity over some insecurity.”
I sigh. “You are so annoying.”
“Annoyingly wise,” she corrects.
I roll my eyes. “Come on, let’s go see old Allerton and begin our preparations.”
*
Allerton sits with his chin resting on his fingers. The soft glow of the morning filters in through his tent, illuminating his bald forehead.
“You’ve heard?” he says as way of greeting.
“When do we leave?” I reply.
“As soon as the camp can be organised. Hours.” He lifts his head and exhales. “We need to establish our group. Not everyone will be coming with you. The travelling group will be a small number of loyal supporters and excellent guards. Then I will have a certain number of fighters left in the Waerg Woods, ready to join any civil war that may begin in Aegunlund during our trip to Jakani. The rest of the camp will leave the woods and travel south with us as far as a safe village. I have made some connections with towns near the border with the Haedalands. I think they will be safe here.”
“I’m coming,” Sasha says. “I’m not leaving Mae.”
I flash her a smile and she squeezes my good arm.
“I will go as far as Jakani,” Allerton says.
“What? Why?” I reply.
“I am an old man,” he answers. “Not aged, no, I’m aware of that. But I am cumbersome and past my best. I doubt I would survive the Anadi sands. Either the heat or the sandstorms would kill me. I prefer not to discover which.”
“But I will need your guidance,” I reply. “Your interpretations of the scrolls—”
He shakes his head. “We’ve found as much as we’re going to find in the scrolls. Now you must go to the Anadi Sands, you must talk to the guides, listen to the stories of their ancestors, and find the hidden city for yourself. You do not need me any longer, Mae. You need only yourself and the belief that you can succeed.”
In my heart, I know he’s right, but my head is rushing with doubts. My heart quickens at the thought of doing this without his expertise.
“Come,” he says. “There is much to do.”
We leave the tent into the bright sunshine.
Sasha pulls me back. “Mae. Anta is not ready for a long journey. I’ve arranged for a family I trust to take him to a village near Halts-Walden. It’s not too far from here and they will keep him safe.”
“Hunters—”
“Do not worry. The father is very protective of his family. He won’t let anything happen to Anta. He’ll be safe. But you shoul
d go and say goodbye.”
I move to Allerton for approval. “Yes, go. I need a few minutes with the camp.”
I nod my thanks and head over to the animal shelter. It’s when I see Anta that my heart seems to swell twice the size, and I’m overwhelmed with the idea of the journey I’m about to embark on. Anta raises his head and lets out a comically loud snort, which prompts an almost nervous laugh from me. I lean down and grab a handful of grass to feed him, annoyed with myself for not bringing a carrot or some oats.
“I’m leaving, boy, and you can’t come with me. I had to face the Nix without you and it was awful, I don’t know how I’m going to face any of this on my own. But Sasha says the family who’ll be caring for you are nice, and they’d bloody better be or they’ll have me to answer to. Like that time the drunken fool farmer tried to poach you, and I flew at him, some scrawny little kid, all elbows and finger nails. Scared him silly. I’d do it again, in a heartbeat, and you would for me, too.” I bury my head in his coat. “If only people were more like you. If we all had a stag’s heart the world would be better.”
There’s the sound of someone clearing his throat. I spin around, my face flushed with embarrassment at the wetness of tears on my cheeks. I hastily wipe them away. The stable boy, Treowe, stands before me, all freckles and awkward stance, looking at everything but my eyes.
“I, err, I have something for yer,” he says, his words tripping out of him in a strange rhythm. His hands are behind his back as though he’s hiding something. “It’s nowt really. But I’ve been working on it for a while now and I thought it might help.”
“What is it?” I ask.
He shuffles his feet and swallows. There is a distinct sheen of sweat on his forehead. I feel myself relax. This guy is clearly unnerved by my presence. It’s a strange new reaction to being outed as the craft-born, and I am just about getting used to it.
“It’s probably nothing,” he says, “but I made yer this. It might not help at all, but if it does, then… And you can attach different ends to it… and… I don’t know. It might help you.”
“You made this?” I breathe, amazed by the object in Treowe’s hand.
“Yes,” he says, blinking furiously.
It is a hand. And it is beautiful. The steel is polished so that it gleams, and there are etchings along the sleeve. Some sort of symbols. The hand twists onto the sleeve, and there are leather straps that I presume wrap around my forearm to keep it in place.
I gasp. “I know these symbols.” I recognise them from Allerton’s teachings. They are part of the Aelfen language. I see symbols for soil, fire, water, air. Plus others, like nature and birds and… “stag.” My eyes well up for the second time today.
“There are other parts for yer to wear. A dagger, a hook… well, that’s it for now, but I can make more. Would yer like to try it on? I made it adjustable, you know, just in case.”
“I would love to,” I say. “But why didn’t you tell me so that you could get my measurements?”
He places the hand gently onto my stump and adjusts the straps to fit. “It was the prince who made me think of it. He asked me if I could fashion something and I said it was highly doubtful. But then I started thinking, and I had these ideas… and they grew from there. I wanted to be sure I could do it before I told anyone. I didn’t want yer to get your hopes up or nothing. There, all done.”
It isn’t flesh and blood. I can’t flex my fingers or form a fist. But it is something.
“Thank you,” I say. “Will you walk with me back to the camp?”
“It seems there’s some sort of commotion that way,” he says. We walk in unison at a steady pace. “There’s a group gathered.”
“That’ll be Allerton organising everyone to go. Allerton’s spies have been compromised. We have to leave immediately.”
“Then I’m glad I gave yer the hand now. I’ll have to show you how to attach the other pieces. On the journey that is, because I plan to come with yer.”
“You do?” I say in surprise.
“Of course. You’re the new way, you know. You’re going to start something new in Aegunlund and I want to be there to see yer do it.”
My mouth falls open in shock. I’ve never thought of it like that before. In the past, that sort of talk would make me tense up with fear of responsibility, but now it reminds me that I have an important job to do. I think of Avery in my dreams. Perhaps she would be proud of me in this moment.
“Thank you, Treowe, for your support,” I say.
“You’ve got more than support from me,” he replies. “You have my fealty.”
I reach the camp in something of a daze. Allerton’s guards are packing horses. The man himself stands arguing with a group of Borgans. My eyes search the crowd for Cas but he’s nowhere to be seen.
Allerton turns to me and his yellow eyes flash with anger. “They won’t blasted listen. You tell them. Tell them how you are going to stop the king, that you are the almighty craft-born. Show them your powers.”
I feel like an animal the moment it spots the hunter. The camp quietens and all eyes meet mine. Sasha, standing at the front of the crowd, gives me a little nod.
I clear my throat and decide the best thing I can do is speak from the heart. “You might have seen me walking through the camp. I’ve seen some of you bow to me even. You think I’m special. But I’ve never felt special, not really. Not for most of my life. I don’t blame you then, for not wanting to come on a journey to the south with a one-handed skinny girl. I would run the other way, too. The thing is, as much as I hate it sometimes, I’m not a regular girl. I’m the craft-born. My powers are destructive sometimes. They can hurt. They can heal, too.”
“Show us!” a middle aged man with a blonde beard calls.
“Very well.” The fire ball soon glows in my hand. The crowd gasps as I let it grow and grow before thinking of water and putting it out. “Listen, I’m young, I know that. You have your doubts about me. But I care about this land. I know what it’s like to live in poverty. I’ve felt the gnaw of hunger at my belly, the poke of my ribs through my skin. I’ve lost people. I’ve loved people. I’ve seen the worst humans can do to each other. I may be young, but I’ve lived.
“There’s a murderer in Cyne right now. He has killed a woman because he was scared of her and the secrets she could expose to the world. He is scared that the truth will reveal that he is nothing more than a cowardly bully. That murderer lives in the Red Palace and sits on the throne. He rules over all of us and he seeks immortality so he can rule forever. Your children will be under his rule—and your children’s children—if you don’t act now. I may be the craft-born, but I am not the only one who can change the outcome of this world. We can all do that. Together. We need you. I need you. It will be hard. It will be dangerous. But together we will take the murderer off the throne and give Aegunlund the leader it deserves!”
“You,” Sasha shouts. “You’re the leader.”
There are nods and shouts of agreement.
“To the queen!” someone else calls.
I shake my head, desperately searching for Cas. “No, the prince. Prince Casimir will lead you.”
But my voice is lost amongst the cheers. Sasha drops to her knees and pledges her allegiance. She’s followed by Treowe, and Allerton, and Ellen, and then the crowd. I stand gawping like a fish out of water, turning back and forth. Finally, a man strides towards me. His eyes are a glittering silver. He fixes me with an intense stare and then he drops on one knee.
“To my queen,” he says. “I pledge my life, my body, and my soul. I pledge my allegiance to you, and everything I have.”
My heart thuds as I survey the people on their knees. I gaze down at Cas’s sandy blond hair.
“What are you doing?” I hiss. “You’re the prince. You don’t pledge allegiance to me.”
He tilts his head to meet my gaze with wide, sombre eyes. He smiles as bright as the first day I met him. “I do
now. You’re the true heir to the throne. My family are the usurpers. You were wrong this morning. You don’t need my hand in marriage to be queen, you already are.”
Part Three
Chapter Thirteen – The City of Sand
They say that in Jakani the sun can burn your skin to a crisp in twenty minutes, that the Anadi Sands cause you to hallucinate after walking for an hour, and that the women are so beautiful they hide their faces to stop you falling in love with them on sight. The first time I see the city of Jakani, it is with Cas by my side. He rides Gwen with one hand on the reins and the other hanging loose and relaxed on his thigh. My metal hand rests on my knee, with the other I keep hold of the very jittery mare Sasha gave me.
We’re a small band of hopeful rebels. My loyal soldiers. Allerton is with us until we reach our guide in Jakani. He sits sweating on his gelding, constantly pulling a handkerchief over his forehead.
The sun is hotter here in the south. I knew it would be. What I didn’t expect is the suffocating feeling that accompanies the heat. I thought it would be a pleasant pin-prick, not an overbearing beating against my skin. I wonder how I will cope in the desert.
“The city of sand,” Cas whispers. He sits transfixed by the view before us.
We’re waiting on a barren hill for our guide to meet us. Apparently, the Jakanis are nervous of northern visitors, and prefer us to be accompanied. It seems unnecessary, but this is their city and so their rules. Even from so far away I can see the city guards at the city gates. I eye them with caution.
It is mid-afternoon, and the smell of the city wafts up to our nostrils: dusty, sweaty, but also sweet-spiced, like the kitchen in the Red Palace before a banquet. People hurry around the orange coloured houses, tiny as insects. Most buildings are square shaped, and all the streets run around them with sharp corners. Only one building stands out: their palace, a tall, dome-roofed building, with thin towers on either side. It is white and almost shimmers in the sun. Throughout the rest of Jakani there are dots of colour all over the city, from sheets hanging out to dry, to the green flashes of the trees with spikey leaves, to the multi-coloured robes of the people.
