“How can the thought of beautiful women upset you?” Johan leant his patterned arms alongside his friend’s on the sculpted stone of the balcony edge.
“It’s not just that. It’s being here, with all of this, with Garesh breathing down my neck. I can…” Trevisian rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “I can still see my father, everywhere here, and I… I can’t be like him.”
The bubbling of the fountain and the song of the birds took over the silence.
“You told me before,” Johan interjected his thoughts, “how you were not ready to rule your Kingdom. You wished to go somewhere that you could be…” The Radichi avoided eye contact with his Prince. “Be yourself. If you have not done that yet, then why are you back here?”
“Trust me,” Trevisian pushed back from the balcony in frustration. “I didn’t choose to come back.”
“No, that’s true.” Trevisian could hear the smile in Johan’s voice. “You chose the much easier transportation option of being arrested and shipped back by Garesh.”
“Shut up, Johan.” Trevisian wanted to laugh.
“Trevisian,” Johan took his friend by the shoulders. “If you need to leave again, leave.”
“Garesh won’t let it happen twice.”
“He won’t be able to help it.”
A spark of a smile passed between the two friends.
Kiara coughed, the sound crawling out of her lungs slowly, painfully, threatening to crack her chest in two. She blindly clutched at her cloak, keeping it close around her thin frame, trying to keep from stumbling.
She had left Grûl three days ago, but her wandering in the forest had gotten her nowhere. She couldn’t go back to Miresh, not after she had run from the Edict and her uncle. One of two things would happen if she did: either she would be sent off to the palace harem, or she would bring down a battalion of guards upon her uncle when they came searching for their escaped prisoner.
She had been trying to find the lair of the Laowyn Resistance - it was they who had first inspired Kiara to fight back, for what was right and just. People had whispered about them in the market place back in Miresh, but she hadn’t found them.
As soon as she had escaped Grûl she had headed south, but her leg was making her progress slow. At first it only impeded her running, then her walking, and now she could barely touch her foot to the ground. She collapsed beside a river, leaning down the bank to cup the water in her hands, the liquid stinging the cracks in her lips. It was the first drink she had found the whole day. The last was from a puddle gathered on one of the many tracks that threaded through the forest, connecting settlements through an otherwise wild and beast-infested wood.
The Reluwyn had no desire to enter the trees between which shadows moved unchecked and men went missing – and that was why the Laowyn Resistance were safe here, although they too kept out of certain areas.
Inhabiting the eastern half of the forest, it was the Northern Elves of the Meir Kingdom who really knew the beasts. They tracked them, tamed them, spoke to them as only the Meir elven folk could. It was their power over these beasts and their own secrecy that made them a target for the Council’s oppression. Last year, during the elves annual autumn gatherings, they had been arrested, accused of inciting unrest with their revels, and sentenced to having their leaders’ ears cut off. Paraded through the streets of Emril city, the leaders had carried their pride as elven folk in their hands, blood dripping between their fingers.
Kiara had avoided the forest tracks after that last puddle drink, as a band of merchants had almost discovered her. She couldn’t risk getting caught now she was a fugitive as well as a Laowyn woman. She’d heard how Reluwyn soldiers treated Laowyn women during the conquest. Rape and murder. Kiara shut her eyes against those thoughts. When she opened them again, she saw an animal disappearing into the bushes further down the bank.
She pushed all thoughts of capture far from her mind and wiped her forehead. Her body temperature had been rising steadily over the last few days. Perspiration shimmered across her skin. Dropping her hand to the stab wound on her leg, she felt its tenderness through the layers of fabric. It wasn’t healing. When she had pulled the shoulder of her shirt down and looked at the few coils of her Laowyn mark that were visible to her, she’d seen that the colour was turning. The spirals were leaching black in favour of red, the colour of illness, and her Ensper was dimming.
She lay back upon the bank, careful to avoid leaning on the arm that had been relocated by the thief. It was getting better, although still sore. She wondered what the thief’s jaw was like now. Bruised? Swollen? Or was he dead?
Her mind wandered as far as it could before the pain dragged her back to the task at hand. She undid the leg of her trouser and tugged a little at the bandage, rhythmically breathing against the pain. It throbbed, it was always throbbing, but the tugging caused a sensation of red-hot wire being dragged beneath the surface of her skin.
All she could see were congealed ridges of blood, several ripped stitches, and the outbreak of white pus oozing its way along the black tracks. It should be healing, but her movement impeded it.
She heard the crack of a twig and looked up. Low lying ferns on the river’s bank fluttered in the wind and the trees swayed above, birds and small creatures migrating between them. The hairs on her neck rose. Was it the animal she had glimpsed earlier?
She gave up watching after a time. If it was a person, surely they would have shown themselves by now. She turned back to her leg, covering up the wound. It may need rest to heal, but her life depended on not staying too long in one place.
Struggling to her feet she limped on. She didn’t know where she was going, nor did she know what she was going to do when she got there. One thing she was sure of - she wouldn’t be dying here.
Chapter 6
“They’re all very beautiful.”
“So they are, my Lord Prince,” Johan responded. Moving onto the sparring platform, he hefted the Reluwyn scimitar in his left hand. It was unlucky, according to the Reluwyn, to be left-handed in battle, but it hadn’t worked out so badly for him.
“Come, are we sparring or chatting like your harem concubines around the fountain?” Johan watched his friend come to life a little. The Prince picked up his sword and stepped up onto the platform.
Various personages of the court stood about the training room. The mirrored room with its huge barrel roof was part of the men’s quarters, a place for them to return to their cultural roots and fight by strength and cunning.
The Reluwyn were not so different from the Radichi warriors, thought Johan. They craved the blood of battle and the bodies of women, but they had abandoned their nomadic roots in favour of settling. In doing so they had built the largest empire in a thousand years. They saw themselves as superior to the Radichi, and so had taken the desert warriors as mercenaries.
Johan did not mind much since he was favoured personally by the Prince. More than that, they were friends.
“I have to choose a wife.”
“You mean to tell me you have made it through all the beautiful maidens your Kingdom has to offer in two days?”
“No, but Garesh is anxious for me to decide. I can tell by the way he hovers around me like an insect, commanding me to inspect them in various ways.”
“Various ways?” Johan wiggled a brow, chuckling when the Prince responded in kind.
“The bedding does not begin for a fortnight. A shame, it’s almost worth staying for.”
“A shame indeed,” Johan lunged forward, connecting his blade with Trevisian’s and getting close enough to whisper, “for you are to be away this very night. It is all arranged.”
Johan acknowledged the Prince’s nod, backing away and allowing Trevisian to lunge forward and swoop low. Johan responded by feigning a stumble and Trevisian’s blade was at his neck instantly.
“You have become quicker with your travels, Trevisian. I do wonder how that came about…”
“If I return you’l
l have to watch your back.”
“If?”
Trevisian avoided Johan’s enquiring eyes. The Radichi warrior was tempted to probe further, but from experience he knew the Prince would not share if he did not wish to. It was a symptom of a court with ears everywhere and few people to trust.
“Do you know,” asked Johan, his voice as relaxed as if he told an amusing anecdote, “that tonight there is to be a banquet held in your honour. Who knows what lies Garesh had to tell to hide your absence and explain away the rumours. And with all the important persons arriving, your guards will be occupied with protecting them. The outer gates of the palace will be left rather thin of company.”
Trevisian smiled. “Go on.”
“Well, my Lord Prince.” Johan returned his grin. “I’ve taken the liberty of placing garments in your chambers, under the covers of your bed, that are not quite the thing for a Prince to wear, and I’ve had words with the guards scheduled to be on the Western Gate.”
Johan thrust Trevisian off then, his raw strength far outmatching the Prince’s.
Trevisian landed back on his feet. “Good!” The Prince handed his scimitar to a waiting servant and was given a muslin towel which he dabbed across his brow.
Johan followed him but dispensed with the towel in favour of his forearm.
“All is set then?” Trevisian asked, though the question was rhetorical.
It was what the Prince had done last time. It was his way of saying goodbye without having to speak the words.
“You understand, Johan?” Trevisian didn’t look him in the eye as they turned for the door of the hall.
“I understand that you cannot be here for the moment, my Lord Prince.” Johan let the cryptic words fall and the Prince comprehend them. As far as the Radichi warrior was concerned, he believed Trevisian could be a great King one day, when the shackles of Regency were removed and the shadow of his father had passed, but that day would not be today.
“As the Radichi say, I wish you great victory in battle, and great women to fight for.” He slapped Trevisian’s back and they walked out together.
Kiara was curled up between the broad roots of a star tree, its yellow leaves adding brightness to the clear night sky. One by one the stars faded into the pale dawn light, leaving the pointed leaves to dance alone above the sleeping traveller.
She snuggled closer to the tree trying to keep warm, but was only rewarded, as she had been all night, with the scratch of bark against her cheek and the bony nobbles of distorted roots digging into her limbs.
She’d barely slept over the past week, which coupled with a lack of food meant she was on the brink of passing out. The constant throbbing in her thigh, and the knowledge of definite death if captured, meant that she cared less and less. Perhaps it didn’t matter if she collapsed here. Zephenesh could believe she had escaped, even if he disliked it he would think she was alive. She wouldn’t be known as a woman ruined by the Prince, or a hanged criminal who shamed her family.
She froze as she heard twigs cracking behind the oak tree. The sounds were sharp and getting louder. She rose as silently as she could. The dawn light was reaching through the trees, desperate to reveal her to whoever was making their way through the forest.
Moving away from the star tree, Kiara slipped through the surrounding saplings to the giant trees beyond. As the crackling increased around her, she glanced back, but no movement disturbed the ferns or dead leaves behind her.
Her heart beat faster. She tried to silence her breathing, but it just became more laboured as she ignored the pain and tried to limp forward. She would not be taken alive.
Ahead of her, the path between the trees widened. The leaf-covered floor expanded and fell into a downward slope. There was probably a river or lake down there. Perhaps she had finally made it to Endil, the lake that separated the old Laowyn Kingdom from the Meir.
She didn’t have time to think: the sounds were growing louder. Was it a troop of Imperial Guards? She stumbled across the scattering of dead leaves, glancing down to drag her wounded leg over the roots. That’s when she saw it - but it was too late. Ropes slithered like snakes in the grass as the net closed in around her, hoisting her into the trees.
The pressure of ropes tearing across her wound made her scream. Through the slits of her pain-ridden eyes she scanned the ground beneath her. No one there. Another shot of pain lanced through her thigh. She tried to cover the wound but the net stopped her. One finger managed to touch it and she felt the flow of warm, sticky blood. There was a loud rustle to her left, it seemed to be moving farther away as her head became heavy. Just before the darkness descended, she saw feet running across the forest floor below, lots of feet.
Trevisian shook the water from his hair, flinging droplets that caused Dainus to shake his own mane in irritation. The Prince had truly missed bathing in freshwater at dawn, and he’d made it to the lake of Endil in just two days.
He had arranged for his trusty stallion to be brought back from the moors after he had decided on escape again. Dainus had been less than impressed at being confined to the palace stables - in fact, when Trevisian unbolted the stable door, his horse had almost run him over in a bid for freedom.
Traversing the crowded streets of Emril city, where sand-coloured buildings rose up either side of the street and oil lamps could be seen flickering in arched windows, was easy for Trevisian. He’d spent so much of his youth escaping into the city, that the streets which rose and fell and twisted left and right made complete sense to him. It was in the dark of these very streets that he had been able to be himself, far away from what was expected of him as his father’s son. When he was on his own and hidden, he could give in to the natural urges he knew came from the magic of his maternal line. No one could condemn him for it.
Night had been descending when he left the city two days ago and it reminded him of those times as a boy. He had left just before the banquet as Johan had suggested, and the Imperial Guards were concentrated around the jewelled courtyard just as he had predicted.
Now he stood here in the light of the two suns, alone and free. Early morning mist rose above the water making it take on a look of infinite depth. Trevisian stretched out on the grassy bank in a patch of sun, drying off as Dainus ate his well-deserved fill. Blades of grass tickled Trevisian’s ears as his eyelids slowly closed, the rise of his bare chest falling into a rhythm as he finally relaxed. It was good to be out of the heavy garments, although he could still feel the blisters on the back of his heels from the boots. Johan had really been scraping the bottom of the barrel with this disguise, Trevisian wouldn’t even have dressed his servants in that garb. It must have been from one of the palace urchins who entertained for a few coins in the outer courtyards.
An hour slipped by, barely heeded, as the Prince enjoyed the euphoria of freedom. His mind drifted over all he’d escaped for the second time, at least until Garesh’s long arms caught him again. Perhaps it would be different this time. No more documents to sign, no courtly appearances, no feeling of weight when confronted by new laws which affected so many, and no expectation to be the hard ruler his father was.
Trevisian’s only regret was leaving all those maidens behind. He didn’t want the responsibility of a wife tying him to the palace, but the idea of women lining up, offering themselves to him? No man could resist that, especially no Reluwyn man. The race was known for their virility and had already managed to populate most areas of the Kingdom alongside the natural inhabitants. His father had married his mother to beget an heir, and Trevisian knew how that had turned out: he didn’t have a mother, not anymore.
He remembered her smooth oval face looking down at him with kind eyes; her ebony hair braided to her waist, low enough to tickle his face. She had always encouraged him in his magic, in the blood that ran in his veins and the freedom it could offer him. Well, now he could have it.
Rising from the grass he walked over to Dainus. “I’m going for a run, boy, I’ll be back.” He dropped
the trousers we wore and stood naked in the sunlight. It always started as tingling in his fingertips. Then it grew, sparks firing up and down his arms, his chest heating. Every inch of his body coming alive as if all the energy he would ever have was in him right at this moment bursting to get out.
He started running, first on two legs and then he fell onto all fours. It wasn’t hands and feet that fell on the soft lakeside grass, but paws. Fur starting around his newly changed claws ran up his arms and legs like the speed of light. His body changed, becoming sleeker, lower to the ground. The last to change was his head and it always happened so quickly he was howling like the wildcat he had become before he realised.
He pounded the ground, enjoying the freedom of being the true self he was always forced to hide. He didn’t know how long he ran for, or where he was going, but when he was like this he could trace his way back easily, his mother had taught him how. But for this moment in time he just enjoyed the freedom.
When he returned an hour later, Dainus was still grazing further down the bank. Arching his back, Trevisian reined in the fiery power that burned through his veins. It was always more difficult to shift back. Even now pain lanced through his body as it contracted back into his human form. He bore it because he must. He had been caught out before, and could not afford to be again.
After his shift was complete he picked up his things and took them to where Dainus now grazed. He pulled his trousers back on and lay down finally feeling calm. All the thoughts which had begun to plague him before the run had faded and now his stomach growled. Johan had been thoughtful enough to supply some food, but since this had been long finished, he’d have to use the bow. He sat up, pulling his shirt from the rock it lay on. It slipped easily over the tattoo that marked most of his back, a design of feathers shimmering in different colours with flames at the base, and a large eye that appeared to move.
The Edict Page 7
