The Edict

by P. J. Keyworth

  “Captain, we overheard the lieutenant of one of the contingents. He was commanding his troops to look for a runaway - from the palace in Emril city. That’s why they aren’t in full battle attire.”

  “They’re not looking for us!” cried Calev, apparently unable to hold his tongue anymore. Jaik shot him an evil stare.

  “Good.” Ikara raised a dismissive hand. “Go feed yourselves.”

  They needed no second bidding. Three days without food, sitting in trees and moving silently on the ground really worked up a man’s appetite. Coming to life, they barrelled out the door and down the hallway to the kitchen.

  “I feel sorry for the cook.” Fidel gave a crooked grin.

  “Who can they be looking for?”

  “A runaway servant?”

  “He must be a valuable servant.” Her sarcasm was without humour.

  “We could send scouts out ahead of them. After all, we’re far more at home in the forest any Reluwyn.”

  Ikara shook her head. “Our priority is the protection of those who have come to us. We would be jeopardising their safety. No, only the twins should go back out – their stealth I can rely on.”

  “What about the Reluwyn in our cell?” Fidel’s voice was stronger, tones of realisation evident. “Perhaps he knows of this runaway. He appears to be some kind of beggar, he could have come from Emril city, maybe even the palace itself.”

  Ikara nodded quickly. “Interrogate him.”

  Fidel was halfway to the door when Ikara’s voice stopped him.

  “But before that, you can get this armour off me.”

  “More Laowyn have disappeared from the cities and towns, my lord.” Sameedos cowered as he spoke the words.

  “More? And where do they go? How do they run past my Imperial Guards so easily in the towns?” Garesh wasn’t looking for an answer. He threw the goblet of red wine he had been drinking against a wall. The gold painted clay shattered against a mural of a naked woman, staining the image.

  “The Prince is gone again, there are no reports back from the troops, and the Laowyn are plotting. How did I come to deserve such idiocy? They must be amassing some kind of force.” Garesh rose up, his silk tunic swishing, forcing Nisa’s hand to relinquish his neck.

  “There is no evidence of violence as of yet, my lord.”

  “Yet being the operative word, Sameedos.” Garesh raked his long fingers through his black hair. “We cannot trust them: they have refused to accept our customs since Emril conquered them; they don’t intermarry with our race, treating us like underserving outsiders; they refuse to take up arms within the ranks of our army. They are a constant question to me.” Garesh did not like questions.

  “My lord,” came the soft voice of Nisa. Garesh should have sent her away when Sameedos came. She had already spent the night and he had no need of her now. He was about to dismiss her when she continued to speak. “It is time to crush them, my lord. Your rule is all that holds this Empire together. Your wisdom has caused this Kingdom to remain even in a minority rule. Not even that much can be said of Castir when their Queen was a child.”

  Garesh resented the boldness of Nisa who was usually compliant and silent. That was how he liked his women. But what she said was interesting.

  “And what does this whore have to say about my problems?” Garesh dragged a finger down her cheek. His hand fell to her throat, wrapping around the small circumference and tightening.

  The temptation to snap her neck ran through Garesh’s mind. How easy would it be? Perhaps it would calm him. His thin lips curled into a sneer.

  “I propose,” Nisa’s breathing became pressured. “That you kill them. All of them.” Her dark eyes held some kind of deviance that Garesh had never noticed before.

  He released her then, turning away with laughter. “And how do you suppose the rest of the Kingdom shall react? How will I hold together an Empire of races when I am seen to be a murderous tyrant.”

  “As far as I am aware,” Nisa swayed her hips and draped a hand across the back of a chair. “It is not you, but the Prince who sets the laws of this Kingdom. If the Kingdoms rise up, they can only blame him.”

  Garesh’s sneer grew.

  “But my lord, they will blame the Reluwyn.” Sameedos, almost forgotten, spoke up.

  Garesh stared through his fellow Councillor. “Exactly.”

  “My lord?”

  Garesh turned back to Nisa and grabbed the dress she wore, pulling her towards him. “They cannot blame the Reluwyn if they are not the only ones involved.” Nisa’s face was close enough for his breath to fall upon it. Her defiance boiled his blood. “An Edict commanding all nations to protect the Empire by destroying the Laowyn.”

  “Nothing like that has even been done before, my lord.”

  Garesh did not look to Sameedos. “Get the experts of the law to look into constructing such a decree.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “And find that damned Prince. The maiden examinations are to start next week and we have no Prince to examine them!”

  Garesh pointed to the door. “Get out!” he barked at Sameedos again, his eyes intently locked on Nisa. Sameedos retreated obediently.

  “You have dark spirits in you, whore.” Garesh smiled, his eyes taking in the curve of Nisa’s mouth.

  “You have only just noticed, my lord?”

  “Why do you hate the Laowyn?” His hands sought her body. “I don’t trust you.”

  “You should, my lord, for I have been watching you. I know who should be ruling this Kingdom. When the Laowyn are wiped out, the Prince will be blamed. You’ll strengthen your position as his Regent and High Councillor when he marries – you’ll be indispensable.”

  “And now you’ve told me? Why would I need you?”

  “You know what I can do.”

  “Spirit Conjuror.”

  “You profess public disbelief, but I know you believe.”

  Garesh did. He knew better than anyone what Emril had been intent on hiding. He was the only one in the new government who had seen proof of the Spirit Realm and all the old legends. He had no intention of giving that leverage to anyone, let alone this whore - but to keep her onside was only wise.

  “What do you want in return?”

  A hand reached up and fingers entwined themselves in his hair. “Security.”

  “Nothing more?”

  She shook her head.

  Garesh did not trust her. But for now, he had an ally in his plan to kill that irksome race and consolidate his power.

  He bent down, his mouth meeting her already open lips.

  “Show me the mark,” Ikara’s voice was hard. She had learned to control her compassion, finding it unhelpful.

  The woman, who claimed her name was Kiara, undid the scrap of material she had found to close her torn shirt. Ikara saw Zeb turn away in the corner of her eye.

  The Commander could see she was young. She was also beautiful. It was no wonder that she had been chosen by the overseers of the Edict of Maidens. Ikara had listened to the story patiently, hardly believing that Kiara had escaped the Reluwyn unharmed and undiscovered.

  Zeb was right to have moved her from the cell of the other prisoner. In his position Ikara herself would have wanted to hurt someone who had gotten her caught. Fidel would be interrogating him now, and Ikara was very interested to hear how he’d escaped the prison of Grûl with his life. But for now her concern was Kiara’s identity.

  As the dirty linen of the shirt fell from her shoulder. Kiara’s gold hair grazed the smooth skin. The fair hair was growing longer, no doubt a by-product of Zeb’s poultice. Whatever he used to heal wounds also caused other things, like hair, to mend and grow.

  Ikara saw the thin spirals of black spreading in all directions across Kiara’s shoulder blade, gathering around an ice blue Ensper.

  Ikara nodded briskly once. “Cover yourself.”

  The woman did as she was bade and turned back to face the Commander.

  Zeb re-join
ed them. He watched the proceedings silently.

  “From where do you come? If you ran away as you said, your family will be looking for you.” Ikara saw the sudden light of defiance in Kiara’s eyes.

  “My family was happy to send me to the Prince’s harem, happy to allow me to be found out and executed. I don’t come from anywhere anymore.”

  The look in her eyes had become defensive. Ikara understood, but as Commander there was a responsibility to uphold Laowyn law.

  “You are under your family name and must honour their wishes until you are married. You know the law.”

  “As do you,” Kiara shot back. “Obey the law of the land unless in direct contradiction to the Great Spirit’s ways. There is nothing that condones your robbing of carriages or resisting royal governance.”

  Ikara admired her tenacity, but would not be cowed. Kiara did not know what was happening - perhaps she should. “We have been watching their movements; they are mounting forces in strategic places across the Empire.”

  “Meaning?” The prisoner’s temper was clearly flaring but the Commander’s words had the sobering effect she’d intended.

  “Every one of our race is in danger.”

  Ikara saw the puckering of Kiara’s brow, comprehension dawning in her mind as her blue eyes fell to the Commander’s breastplate and then to the floor.

  “I must return you to your family as the law dictates.”

  “You speak of law when you live outside of it!”

  “If we do not obey even our own laws we become the criminals the government thinks we are. The criminals they tell other races across the Empire that we are. They stir up hate against us and paint us as rebels. You must return home.”

  “If I am to die let me do so here fighting for our people.” Kiara pleaded.

  “You will return home.”

  “Zeb?” Kiara’s eyes were misted, though she forced herself to maintain a calm façade. She turned her gaze on the elf whose resolve shifted but did not falter.

  “If I return to my hometown I shall be taken to Emril city and the royal harem. When they find out my race I will be killed for it. If they don’t, I will be used.” Kiara’s shock turned into rage. Her eyes became blue fire and she came to within inches of the Commander’s face, though she stood below it. “You know what the Reluwyn will do to me.” The words were an accusation.

  Ikara felt it between the plates of her armour but she remained resolute. She must command, as her father would have. She must not give in to ill-judged compassion.

  “Tell us your home before nightfall and we will arrange safe passage. Do not, and we will leave you wherever we deem fit without protection.” Ikara’s words were cutting and she saw the pain they inflicted upon the prisoner. She turned away, catching Zeb looking straight at her, tormented, his mouth a hard line. She walked on. Judgment was not needed, this was her burden. She would be hated as a leader as well as loved.

  She commanded Zeb from the room, doubting that he would have left if she hadn’t, and then nodded to the guard. The door was shut with a heavy thud.

  Chapter 9

  Dying oil lamps flickered against their oncoming demise, in a last attempt at warding off the darkness. Kiara was laid back against the sacks of grain that filled her new cell. Her leg was feeling much better, almost pain free, the best it had felt in days. She’d managed to sleep a little too before Ikara had come in to examine her mark.

  How could she send her back to her death? How could the leader of the Laowyn Resistance condemn one of her own people? Kiara could not believe it. Her brow was puckered as she looked up at the earthen ceiling above, her emotions like a pendulum swinging from rage to disbelief.

  “Still won’t talk to me? Surely you’re bored by now.”

  He was doing it again, the Reluwyn, he’d been saying things to her for the past hour. Teasing at first, then provocative, now he was starting all over again. Kiara rolled her eyes. A tapping on the bars of her prison cell caused her to rise. Apparently, this store room had been created to house prisoners before it stored food. She took the skin of water that was offered and the bread that came with it. When she did so her eyes caught sight of the tall thief across the way. He stood opposite to her, his hands hanging through the bars, watching. His eyes were dark and as they caught with hers a smile flickered onto his lips.

  “I don’t know how I didn’t realise you were a woman before.”

  Kiara felt heat creeping up her neck, but it was quickly dashed by cold words.

  “Must be your boyish attributes.”

  She wanted to throw the bread at him. His smile made her fingers itch around the potential missile.

  “Tell me,” Kiara knew what was coming. “If it wasn’t someone else you were protecting from the Prince, was it yourself? Were you chosen for the Edict of Maidens?”

  Clearly, he hadn’t overheard anything that had passed in the other cell. He still didn’t know she was Laowyn.

  “From the colour rising in your cheeks I’d say you were a maiden.”

  The words set Kiara’s cheeks fully ablaze and with a suddenness that surprised her she dropped to the floor out of sight of the Reluwyn. She exhaled, leaning back against the door, her head looking up at the ceiling once more. He had been at it for the last hour. She was losing patience.

  “Afraid to spend a night with the Prince? With a man?” He was laughing now, the sound mocking, his hand slapping against the wood of the door. “Poor innocent. I bet you’ve never felt the touch of a man.”

  She breathed steadily, refraining from retort, the inaction taking all of her self-control.

  “And what will the Resistance do with you now? Send you back to whichever poverty-stricken hole you crawled from? Who knows, maybe you’ll be lucky enough to still be captured for a night with the Prince.”

  That was it! Kiara leapt up, swinging round and without thought launched the bread she held through the air, it was just shy of his head, knocking on the top of the doorframe and then plummeting to the floor in a scattering of crumbs.

  “Woah!” The dark-haired man jumped backwards and then came back to the small cell window again, his smile full, his eyes satisfied. “Fiery for such a small woman. Did I frighten you?”

  “I’d die before being touched by one of your race,” Kiara spat, anger blazing from her eyes, her fingers twisted around the bars of the window so tight that her knuckles grew white.

  “That’s because you don’t know how good it feels…” He looked at her provocatively. “To be touched…”

  She spluttered, disgust marking her face. “You Reluwyn have no self-control. It’s not enough to conquer other nations, you must seduce their women in your barbaric celebrations.”

  “Barbaric?” But his question wasn’t answered. She had lost her temper and any rein she had on her mouth.

  “And what does a filthy thief care for the business of a Prince he does not serve? Your disloyalty to your own race amazes me. Tell me, how much shame do you carry for being part of a race of savages?”

  Something had changed in his eyes during her speech. There was a hardening in the dark depths. “Only one who does not understand the Reluwyn would talk so.”

  “Oh please, tell me of the orgies your race has, of the drunkenness they love to indulge in, of the pain they enjoy inflicting on others.”

  “And what of your race? You are Laowyn, no doubt...”

  “Do you think I’d still be a prisoner if I was?” She cut him off, her words sharp and quick, drawn from anxiety – surprising her.

  “Well, you still haven’t told me where you come from. Do they not teach women proper respect? Do they not tell a woman how ridiculous it is to dress as a man?”

  “They taught me how to fight. If you were in here I would show you,” she challenged.

  “If I were in there maybe I could show you what it feels like to have a man touch you. Ah, that delightful colour in your cheeks again, but don’t flatter yourself,” came the cutting reply, “I wo
uld kill you as soon as touch you for getting me caught in Grûl.”

  “If you hadn’t have been so foolish, we would never have been in that jail cell.”

  “Imagine if they had found out…” he left off tellingly, there was cruelty in his voice.

  Kiara closed her eyes against the sick feeling growing in her stomach. A resounding bang. Her eyes opened to the sight of Zeb at the door of the opposite cell, a cudgel in his hands.

  “Shut up, Reluwyn.”

  The thief, who had jumped back in alarm, came back to the window, arms raised. “Touchy, touchy. I’m sorry, did I intrude upon a flowering love when I was thrown in the cell with you two?”

  Zeb’s eyes narrowed at him. The elf looked down and saw the bread on the floor and then came over to Kiara’s window.

  “Hungry?”

  The look in his eyes was unreadable but he was already unlocking her door so she replied positively.

  The Reluwyn looked on with mounting interest, but Zeb refused to catch his eye again. When Kiara left her cell to follow Zeb she glanced back only once at the other prisoner. His eyes were following her. A feeling dark and ominous grew inside her.

  “Amazing.”

  “Indeed.”

  “She really is a woman, isn’t she?”

  “I would have noticed it when first I saw her, except that she was captured by the other scouting party.”

  Kalev elbowed Jaik. “Rubbish.”

  “I’ll have you know I’m a first-class spy,” Jaik snapped back.

  “You realise I’m right here?” Kiara was sat across the table from them, her arms folded across her chest, her brows raised.

  “It speaks,” Kalev whispered loudly to his brother.

  “Sounds like a woman.”

  “Pack it in.” Zeb pulled another chunk of bread from the platter in the centre of the table. He gave the two a hard stare.

  They were sat in one of the lair’s kitchens. A fire blazed in the hearth and Kiara could not help wondering where the smoke was going. Vegetables of all kinds were hung up to dry or keep, just like in her make-shift cell. There were various barrels too, stacked in an alcove further down the room. It was from one of these that Zeb had poured a jug of strawberry cordial.