by R. J. Larson
Crunching on nearby fronds, Scythe closed his eyes, ignoring Kien’s rant. Finished with the grooming, Kien swatted the beast with the rag. “Because I didn’t command you to stay, we’ve caused a multitude of difficulties for the king!”
“Kien.” Ela stepped from one smooth gray rock to another, making her way toward him along the riverbank. “Evening meal is ready—such as it is.”
“Late midday meal is more like it,” Kien grumbled. He gave Scythe’s shimmering neck another swipe, though fonder now. “It’s your fault that we’re eating so early! But do you care?”
Clearly unrepentant, Scythe leaned toward Ela and greeted her with a blissful sigh into her hair. She hugged the beast, so small beside the massive horse that Kien melted. He swept Ela into a hug, then lost himself in the softness of a kiss. Until Scythe whooshed a soggy breath down Kien’s hair and neck. “Ugh!”
“Food,” Ela reminded Kien. She rapped her knuckles against his boiled-leather vest, concealed for his protection. “Their majesties are waiting.”
“They need not have waited.” Trusting Scythe to follow them, Kien slid an arm around his wife’s waist and hiked with her through the trees beyond the stream. What would his life be like without Ela? Kien frowned at the thought. Doubtless, he’d still be moping over his exile from the Tracelands and fretting over his family’s despair at their lack of legal progress on his behalf.
Guiding Ela up a rocky, mossy incline, Kien composed the first line of his next letter to East Guard. Dear Father and Mother, while no news would please me more than word from you that my sentence has been reversed, please do not fear for my comfort. Unless discomfort included this evening as he slept in a forest . . .
On level ground now, with Scythe lumbering behind them, Ela linked her arm in Kien’s. “You’ve become so serious, my lord.”
“I’m thinking of my family. I miss them. Without you, I’d have gone half-mad these past two months, trying to devise a way to conquer the Tracelands’ legal system.”
Sobering, she hugged his arm. “Remember, whatever happens, the Infinite is good.”
“Now you’re the serious one.”
“We’ve much to consider and pray over.”
“True. Such as crossing half of Siphra unseen, despite a certain monster warhorse.”
“I’d say we both failed by not telling him to stay in Munra.”
They entered a sheltered clearing, passed the guards’ small encampment, and headed for the king and queen. Riddig sat on a thick gray blanket eyeing the untouched food—dried meat, tiny red berries, and flat rounds of bread Ela had packed the night before. After they’d prayed, Kien said, “You didn’t need to wait for us, Majesties.”
Akabe grinned. “I prefer to divide everything fairly.” He took a bit of leathery meat, then nudged Caitria. “Have you tried the berries, lady?”
Not looking at the king, Caitria shook her head. “Berries give me rashes, my lord.”
Rashes? Kien studied the queen obliquely. Was she pouting? Could she be trusted?
Clearly reluctant, Akabe finally took Caitria at her word and divided the berries among himself, Kien, Ela, and Riddig. “When we finish, we ought to be sure the horses are tended and tethered, then seek rest. At dusk, we’ll share the last of the bread, then be on our way.”
Kien nodded, as did Ela and Riddig. But the queen’s silence weighed over the remainder of the meal like a sodden cloak, and the shadowed woods around them seemed more oppressive than sheltering. Kien finished his berries, trying to deny his growing concerns over this little jaunt through Siphra.
In the fading daylight, Ela tied her waterskin onto her little dun horse. The creature’s muscles quivered beneath her hands. Poor thing probably recognized Pet’s scent on her clothes. She soothed the dainty gray-brown horse and its tethered comrades. “You have no reason to fear Pet.” Unless the dun and its comrades ate his food.
Best to keep the horses separated.
She glanced at the far side of the small clearing, watching Pet nose a shrub, clearly determined to prune the helpless plant to the ground before their departure. Adjacent to the massive black warhorse, Akabe was talking with Riddig and their guards. Meanwhile, Caitria waited near the king, much too wary for an eighteen-year-old, queen or not.
Where was Kien? She’d thought he was with Pet. Hmm. Focused on the last buckle, Ela heard the rustle of footsteps behind her, and she smiled. “There you are, sir. I’m almost ready.”
A choking wave of aged sweat warned Ela that the footsteps weren’t Kien’s—just as a big, leather-mitted hand clamped tight over her mouth. Was she being stolen? No! Wait!
Ela kicked, clawed, and tried to scream as her abductor carried her into the dusk-darkened trees. Infinite!
20
Finished lashing his gear onto Scythe, Kien gave the monster-horse a nudge. “Kneel.”
Still chomping on a mouthful of leaves, Scythe grunted and kneeled, huffing, as if urging Kien to hurry. Kien bit down a grin. “What right have you to complain? If you don’t like kneeling, then you should have planned ahead and brought your war collar! Anyway, I don’t need to ride you—I do have another horse.” Though much smaller and nowhere near as interesting.
The destroyer’s dark ears suddenly perked in the deepening twilight, and a quake ran through his massive body. Jolted, Kien grabbed the beast’s reins and leaned forward, aligning himself with Scythe’s huge neck and shoulders. “What?”
The destroyer lunged upright and took off at a full gallop toward the opposite side of the clearing where Ela was tending her little horse.
Where Ela was not tending her little horse.
Ela! If Scythe had turned wild and Ela was gone, then—!
Kien snarled. Whatever creature threatened Ela . . . Dead!
The lesser horses squealed and dashed aside just before Scythe bolted past them toward the woods. In the trees, amid the shadows and rustling leaves, the destroyer slowed just enough for Kien to draw his Azurnite sword, its metal shimmering an intense blue even in this dim light.
Ahead in the murky trees, ferocious thrashings and muttered threats drew Kien’s attention—and Scythe’s. The monster-warhorse charged toward the confusion and bit down on one of four shadows milling between the trees. A man’s agonized scream cut through the twilight. Scythe flung the offender against a tree, then charged the others.
A second shadowed form separated itself from the others and rushed toward Kien. Seeing the muted metal gleam of a sword, Kien braced himself, swung the Azurnite blade in a wide downward arc, and felt it sink into yielding mortal flesh.
His target fell, silent, writhing on the carpet of leaves until Scythe stomped him while lunging for a third shadow. The third man roared in pain. Scythe crushed him into a tree, let him fall, then finished him with a tremendous backward kick.
Judging by distant huffs and the hoofbeats of horses, a fourth man was fleeing on horseback. Scythe turned to follow him. Kien loosened his reins. “Did he take Ela?”
The destroyer halted. Breathing hard, he shook his head and mane now, as if coming to his monster-senses. Kien repeated, “Did he take Ela?”
In answer, Scythe moved forward, bent, and nosed the ground to the right. Something thrashed and rustled amid a clump of ferns and last year’s leaves. Kien slid his sword into its scabbard, then swung himself down, using the destroyer’s neck and thick mane for support. On his feet now, he stepped into the shrubs and grabbed a squirming bundle of fabric.
Stifled screams and uncontrolled kicks greeted Kien’s touch. Aha! One angry little prophet. Thank You, Infinite! He scooped her up. “Ela! Calm down. It’s me.”
She sagged in Kien’s arms. He felt her sides heaving as she took in rapid breaths. Her head and arms were entangled in ropes and heavy, reeking cloth, but Kien hugged her. “Let’s get you into the clearing, and I’ll unwind you.”
Ela kicked the air in obvious frustration. Kien grinned. “Stop, or I might drop you.”
Whimpering, s
he stilled—flinching only when Scythe nuzzled her.
As Kien carried his wife toward the clearing, he shifted her several times. The movements didn’t seem to cause her pain. Evidently her abductors hadn’t hurt her.
Infinite, bless You!
Akabe waited in the clearing with Riddig and the guards, their swords readied—all surrounding the queen, who held her hands over her mouth as if fighting screams. Brushing aside his fretful guards, Akabe hurried toward Kien. “What happened?”
“Four fools believed they could steal my wife and survive.” Kien knelt and placed Ela in the grass, warning, “Ela, hold still while I cut these ropes.”
She obeyed, but he heard her inhale deeply as he lifted the malodorous fabric away from her face. A strip of cloth covered her mouth. The instant Kien cut it away, Ela gasped. “Kidnappers always stink! Ugh!”
Akabe laughed, then coughed. “Forgive me, lady. Aeyrievale, did they escape?”
Kien helped Ela to sit up. “One escaped.”
Ela clutched his shoulder as if desperate, and a wounded noise lifted in her throat. “The others are dead!”
“Yes.” Kien pulled her close. Ela hid her face against his neck, drooping, all her natural feistiness gone. As she wept, Kien murmured, “Ela, it’s done. It cannot be changed. You’re my wife—I couldn’t allow them to steal you!”
Infinite? Was there another way? Could I have spared them?
No, the Infinite’s voice whispered, interlaced with sorrow. They chose their own paths.
Exhaling miserably, Kien smoothed his wife’s mussed hair.
Low-voiced, the queen asked, “Lady, are you hurt? Why are you crying?”
“They’re in torment, and I c-can’t help them!”
“Your abductors are in torment?” Caitria frowned. “What do you mean? They’re dead.”
Sniffling, Ela forced out sob-punctuated syllables. “Their souls . . . They are in . . . agony! I wish I could have stopped them!”
Kien compelled her to look him in the eyes. “Ela, it’s nearly dark, and for the king’s sake, we must leave now. Come ride with me on Scythe.” Merely mentioning the destroyer’s name drew a fretful equine nudge on Kien’s neck. “You’ve made us both feel guilty.”
He should have guessed that his little prophet would mourn for renegade souls.
As they rode, using the narrowing stream as a path, Caitria shivered. Silvery moonlight glistened icily over the rushing current, adding to her chill. How unsettling . . . watching Ela crying over dead enemies’ souls.
If the enemies had been her own and Akabe’s, Caitria would have been relieved by their deaths. Unless, of course, the dead were from her own family. Did that make her coldhearted? Hopefully not.
And souls. Caitria grimaced. She’d never considered souls. Her childhood books and Naynee’s stories—full of Atean poems and Siphran epics—all praised love and life as it was, promising only a vague “rest” beyond death, which she’d interpreted as . . . nothing.
But was there more? Might a part of her actually continue to exist beyond death?
Shivering again, Caitria watched her husband as he rode ahead. Though he’d expressed frustration at his Creator’s silence, Akabe never questioned his Infinite’s existence.
He protected us, Akabe had said after the attack on the temple.
Well, if she must be honest, Akabe certainly seemed protected, considering the fading scar on his cheek and all the previous failed assassination attempts.
Did the Infinite actually exist?
Caitria stifled the notion and snatched back a wisp of an impulse that reached for the awful, improbable Infinite.
Really, she was turning daft. Falling in love with Akabe, and now wondering if she might have a soul!
Yes, quite daft. Dangerous for a queen. Truly, because of her heritage and that dreadful temple land, she’d already brought enough chaos to Siphra. Akabe should set her aside.
She blinked at the thought, dashed aside tears, then forced herself to concentrate on the frothing, chilling stream to guide her.
Her arms around Kien’s solid, leather-protected waist, Ela listened as Scythe clomped and splashed in the rocky stream. Dear monster, he’d been so concerned for her. She sighed shakily, hoping her tears were finished.
Infinite . . . ? I hated feeling so helpless—for myself and for those men.
Am I not with you? As for those men, you could not make their choices for them.
Even as He scolded her, consolation slid over Ela like a second cloak, provoking remorse. She’d been in similar situations before, so why was she having such difficulty coping tonight? At least Kien, Pet, the king and queen, and their guards were safe. A blessing.
Infinite? Forgive me, please. I don’t deserve Your loving-kindness.
Ela leaned against her husband once more, making a face at the unforgiving toughness of his boiled leather vest, wishing he didn’t need to wear soldiers’ gear. He patted her hands. Low-voiced, he asked, “Have you forgiven me for those men’s deaths?”
“You’ve done nothing to require forgiving. I was upset, wishing I could have warned those men.”
He smoothed her hand and turned slightly, his profile a dark, clean-cut outline in the moonlight. “Reasonable. But fair warning, my love: in similar situations, my reaction—and Scythe’s—will be the same.”
“I know. Thank you both for saving me.”
Pet grunted and nipped at a low tree branch. They rode through the stream bed until it narrowed, providing less water and almost no protective screening. As they stopped to rest and fill their waterskins, the king said, “From here, we’ll cut out to a paved road. We’ll travel more quickly on less rocky ground.”
Riddig spoke, bowing slightly to the king and Kien. “Sirs, with your permission, I’ll lead again. The horses are now more settled in the destroyer’s company.” He hesitated, then addressed Kien. “My lord, I believe the four men who tried to abduct Lady Aeyrievale passed us on the road before we reached the river. The way they stared at her—I’m certain they’d seen her before.”
Ela swallowed. Best to confess. “They recognized me. I knew they had. But I was sure we’d be well-hidden from them in the forest, so I didn’t trouble anyone.”
She heard Kien’s exasperated sigh in the darkness, though she couldn’t see his face. “Ela, I wish I’d known. One of them escaped! Why did they try to take you?”
“They were soldiers, defeated in Parne. They sought retribution.”
Akabe spoke, uneasy now. “Defeated in Parne? Then those men weren’t Siphran. Prophet, is this situation unique, or is Siphra overrun with foreign soldiers?”
“Unique, Majesty.” How much information should she offer? She could not—must not—endanger the king’s life for the sake of her own. To her relief, he asked no more questions.
But he sounded troubled as he guided Caitria toward the horses. “Let’s be on our way. At dawn, we’ll try to buy food at a market—without the destroyer. Then, I pray, we’ll find a safe place to sleep.”
Disquiet sharpening all his senses in the moonlight, Akabe goaded his horse to follow Riddig’s. Ela—Lady Aeyrievale—had been recognized and threatened despite their precautions. She might have died. And he wouldn’t have forgiven himself. He should have brought more men. Though twenty should have been enough to discourage this attack. More than enough. Yet he’d been careless. Overconfident. Fool of a king! He must send a cipher by courier bird, requesting that Faine send more guards to their destination.
At dawn Akabe led his friends and his men across the bridge spanning the dark, sluggish River Darom. After hiding Scythe in the nearby woods—and silencing the chittering, singing birds with his presence—Akabe wrote his cipher. While he worked, Kien, Ela, and a handful of guards entered the nearby Rhimton market, bargained for food, then returned to the woods.
With the horses tended and the guards eating while they stood at watch, Ela unpacked her purchases from a rugged basket. She set out soft bread, fr
esh herbed cheese, grilled chicken, and pickled vegetables. With an apologetic glance at Caitria, she unsealed a plump little crock of spice-scented fruit preserves and placed it in the center of their picnic blanket. “Majesty, I was promised that no berries were used in this—it’s all stone fruits. Peaches and the like. If you cannot eat this, I bought some honeycomb as well.”
Busying himself with bread and cheese, Akabe sneaked a glance at his uncommunicative wife. If she turned her nose up at these offerings as she had at the berries Ela picked yesterday—
Caitria blushed and threw Ela a tired little smile. “Thank you, Lady Aeyrievale. I’m sorry to be such trouble.”
Akabe almost dropped his bread. A bit of genuine warmth toward one of his friends—finally! Even Kien and Riddig seemed to relax at Caitria’s meek apology. Perhaps his chary wife would finally begin to trust them. At least he might hope. Meanwhile, considering their perilous situation, he must establish a strict watch schedule and new rules.
When they’d finished off the food, Akabe swept all of his companions with a commanding look. “For the duration of this journey, no one will say the words majesty or lord or lady. Is that clear?”
Kien, Ela, and Akabe’s men agreed. But Riddig tugged the shoulder strap of his leather baldric as if the command chafed. “Yes, M—sir. If we must.”
“Furthermore, we’ll establish three separate groups, with two watches per day while we’re hiding—myself included. Thus, every third day, each of us can expect a bit more sleep.”
As Ela nodded, Kien said, “We’ll stand watch today.”
Taking refuge within a tree-sheltered patch of ferns and leaves, Akabe unrolled Caitria’s pallet and his own, then arranged his cloak and weapons. Caitria touched his arm, then hid her face within his cloak. Caught by surprise, Akabe held his wife. Was she in a panic?
Shivering in his embrace, Caitria whispered, “Are we running from more assassins?”
