When all the men had fallen into line, Boskaheed yelled for attention. Droplets of sweat beaded on his brow and he squinted into the sun as he addressed them, but his voice was rich and strong.
"Men, today we march on Sidhira, the city that was taken from us by the mudmen when our people were in crisis, when many of our greatest warriors had been killed or crippled by the plague of Hesa's Crown. Do not be daunted by the fact that we are few, or that the enemy hides behind the sturdy walls built by your ancestors! Not six miles from here is an underground passage which leads to a hidden door in the base of the southwestern watchtower. It is an escape route built for the johalid should danger in the city ever threaten his life—a closely guarded secret of which the mudmen will have no knowledge. Yesterday, a prisoner confessed to me that those soldiers assigned to the southwestern corner of the city wall are indolents and gamblers, and shirk their duties once the dangers of the darkness have passed. This presents us with a unique opportunity. We will enter by the passage and storm the walls before the mudmen are wise to our presence. Then, we will ring the walls and rain arrows into the heart of city, where the remaining soldiers and occupants will be trapped like dogs in a cage. The battle will not be easy, for we are outnumbered and out-provisioned. But the sand beneath the city can still recall the true masters of this land, and the gods above favor our cause! Mark my words, the dawning of tomorrow's sun will see the end of our enemy's hold on the city Sidhira."
So, Xasho thought, that explained the strange light in the eyes of the Commander the day before. It also explained why Boskaheed now thought they stood a chance of victory. The plan seemed a plausible one, except for the fact that it relied on the premise that what the young soldier had revealed was true. Something about the Marshland soldier nagged at the back of Xasho's mind, but he could not place it. As the army began its march to the tunnel entrance, he wondered if it was his simple mistrust in torture which worried him so, or if it was something else. What reason did the young boy have to lie? Yet, why was it that of all the captives he was the only one that could be coerced to speak? Was it because of his age? Maybe. Did anything else set him apart from the others? The blackness of the tunnel magnified Xasho's anxiety, but he forced himself to focus on the lights of the lanterns ahead of him. To ensure stealth and economy, Boskaheed had ordered that only every tenth man should carry a lantern into the tunnels. As a result, the light was often obscured by twists in the tunnel, or the bodies of the men in front of him, and Xasho found he could barely see where he was headed in the darkness. The concerted effort it took to maintain his bearings and keep from tripping managed to push all of Xasho's misgivings from his mind. It was only later, when the order had been passed down from the head of the column to wait for the attack signal that it came to Xasho, a dim recollection from the very edges of his memory. Whereas all the other prisoners who had been taken wore the crimson of the Blood Marshes on their backs, the young boy had worn only a dark black cloak.
Chapter 4: Jeina
In her dream, Jeina could once again hear the thin, shrill reverberations of her whistle as it echoed throughout the lonely caverns. She stood rooted with fear, staring at the monstrous hand that lay before her, crushed beneath the pile of rubble. She blew her whistle again and again with all her might, but no one came. She was alone, trapped in a cave with the remains of a strange and terrible creature. Then, as her eyes stared at the disembodied claw, it began to move.
She woke with a start. Another nightmare, her third in as many nights since she had made the eerie discovery in the depths of the silver mine. She looked about the darkness of the barracks and could see little but the gentle rise and fall of bed sheets illuminated by the faint white light of the moon. The whistle hadn't helped—she had known it would not. If that thing had still been alive, she probably would have been attacked, killed, eaten, or worse. She had scrambled and wiggled her way through a cold maze of stone for nearly three quarters of an hour before she found someone to talk to, and even longer before she found someone who would listen. In the beginning, everyone she spoke with thought that she was telling tales as a joke or trying to frighten the other workers. But those she found who knew her well could tell by the look in her eyes that something had gone wrong, and they took her to see the medic. The medic was another "privilege" of the Hinnjari work camps that was not available to enemy prisoners. The man was no great healer, hardly a surprise for such a desolate place. If he had any real skills he would have been with Tobin's army, where the demand for healers was great, or in the Iron City where people were willing to a pay a premium for a healer's services. Still, the medic was a nice enough fellow. He had felt Jeina's forehead, looked into her eyes, and massaged her neck. At first he had been convinced that the combination of a slight fever and prolonged exposure to the claustrophobic mining tunnels had led to some sort of mental breakdown. He dismissed Jeina's description of the grotesque arm as a hallucination or a shadow taken root in an overly fertile mind.
But Jeina had persisted for days. Given some time to recover by the medic, Jeina told her story to anyone who would listen even after the traces of her fever vanished. As time wore on and Jeina's story never wavered, some of the women thought it best to check, just to see if there was even a modicum of truth in Jeina's tales. That had been a day ago. Jeina had been confined to her bed, and did not know if the women had been successful in locating the cause of her nightmares. Something must have happened, however, because tomorrow, for the first time in recent memory, the mine was ordered closed.
It was just as well, for the weather in the mountains had taken a turn for the worse. The winter snows were fast approaching, and though the snow never quite left this area of the mountains, when the real winter came Jeina knew the camp would be half buried in wet white snow. When the storms came, the sun was barely visible through the chaotic clouds of white flakes that swirled around in the sky all day. The lack of light cast the camp in a dull gray, which only worsened its already dismal and dreary nature.
When morning came, with the mine closed and the surrounding land so inhospitable, the women found themselves confined to their barracks for the day. Many just sat in their cots and stared listlessly out the window, but others huddled together by the small stove and began to whisper quietly. One such woman looked around the room with obvious excitement, her eyes finally landing on Jeina. She motioned for Jeina to come quickly and whispered, "Jeina! You should know more about this than we do, come here."
Half-curious, Jeina walked over to the group.
"Jeina, do you know why they closed the mine today?" asked a girl of twenty or so with large, vacant eyes.
"No, not really," said Jeina. "I haven't heard how the search went yesterday. I was too busy recovering from my hallucinations."
"Couldn't have gone too well," said an older woman. "Did you not notice that neither Laiti nor Kirsten came back to the barracks last night?"
Jeina, startled, looked around for the two girls and realized for the first time that they were missing. "You don't think they…" she began, "they didn't get lost?"
"Don't know," said the older woman. "All we know is they went down to follow your twine, they didn't come to bed last night, and today the mine is shut down."
"Well, them up in headquarters, they must be worried about something," put in one of the other women. "And it's not because one of us has gone missing or gotten herself killed. You know as well as I that's happened before and no one made a fuss about it."
A small wisp of a girl who had been sitting quietly in the corner piped up and, trying to keep the fear out of her voice, asked, "Does this mean what Jeina saw was real? Does this mean there are creatures living in the caves? Did they eat Kirsten and Laiti? Is that why the men at headquarters closed the mine?"
An automatic no was on Jeina's lips, an almost reflexive reaction to comfort a frightened child, but Jeina found that she could not say it. No one could. Instead, they all just sat in silence as shadowy visions of hulking, bla
ck-clawed figures haunted their thoughts.
Just then the door to the barracks swung open and three snow-covered figures made their way toward the women. Jeina was relieved to see that two of them were the missing girls, Kirsten and Laiti. They looked tired and cold, but otherwise unharmed. The third, a figure which Jeina was never glad to see, was the campmaster. He had a peculiar expression on his face, though, and was unusually silent as all the women quickly assembled in a straight line.
"I have some news," said the campmaster. "As of today the silver mine will be shut down indefinitely."
A murmur went through the line of women which normally would have elicited at least verbal abuse from the campmaster, but today, he merely continued with his speech.
"Do not get your hopes up," he said. "None of you is being released, and no one is going back to wherever it is you wenches came from. You will be staying here, though you will not be setting foot in the mines until further notice."
At this point the campmaster looked a little uncomfortable. He paused for a while before he said, "I await orders from King Tobin himself to tell me what is to be done with the miserable lot of you. Until such a message has reached me you are to stay here in your barracks during the entire course of the day, including meal times. Your meals will be brought to you here from now on. If I catch any woman outside of this barracks... well, she will be lucky to be able to ever breathe again, let alone walk."
Normally, the campmaster would have taken a moment to relish the girls' reactions to such a threat. Jeina was surprised, then, when he simply turned, strode to the door, and prepared to walk out into the billowing snows outside. Just as he reached the doorway, however, he turned around and spoke again. His tone was quiet, awkward, and to Jeina's amazement, seemed to be almost somehow apologetic.
"I've beaten you, whipped you, and screamed at you till your ears all rung like bells. And rightly so, in my estimation. But I've never killed any of you. Nor have I wanted to. Ever. But, I promise, if anyone sets foot out this door from now on without my leave… I will kill them. I will. Do not leave this room, girls."
And with that, he left.
The bang of the closing door was met with complete silence as the women, still in a neat line, stood staring at where the campmaster had just been. The young girl who had been standing next to Jeina leaned over and whispered, "I have never seen him like that, have you? What can have happened to make him act so?"
"King Tobin…" Jeina said distractedly still staring out into the distance.
"What?" said the girl, confused.
"He said King Tobin," muttered Jeina. "When did Prince Tobin ever become King?"
"Maybe he meant Prince Tobin, Jeina," said the girl. "Maybe it was just a slip of the tongue."
"Or maybe Eathor is dead," said Jeina, hoping that was not the case. Yet trapped up in these mountains, it was possible for the miners to remain ignorant of even the most momentous news.
"Dead?" scoffed another worker. "He wouldn't have to be dead. Eathor could never have called himself King. He lost his right to the title the day he handed our people over to that damned King of the swamps."
"He did that to save us from starvation and sickness," interjected another voice. "He put his people before his pride and his title."
"What about our pride?" asked yet another worker. "The pride of our people? I would have preferred to die fighting than to bend my knee to the damned swampers. Eathor's act was the act of a bloody coward. No, Tobin is the only Stonelord left who can truly call himself King."
"Yes," said Jeina sarcastically. "The beloved Tobin who dumped us out here in the mountains to freeze our arses off so he can have his precious silver."
"Silver to buy the supplies he needs to take back our homeland!"
Jeina could feel her temper rising, but then she remembered that she would be sharing this same room day in and day out for what could be a long time with all these women, so she forced herself to calm down.
"Yes, well... let's hope he's got enough silver now, because it doesn't look like we'll be digging any more here."
Jeina's last comment made everybody remember that Kirsten and Laiti had just come back from their mysterious absence, and all talk of Tobin was forgotten as the women launched into a series of excited questions. Jeina, however, found herself still thinking about whether Tobin really had claimed the title of King. She had seen him once, if only from a distance. It had been during the yearly parade in the Iron City to celebrate the spring thaw. The royal family had marched at the head of the parade, the men resplendent in their shining silver armor, and the women draped in deep blue silk and glittering with quartz jewelry, which sparkled like the first drops of thaw from the nearby snowy peaks. She had been a very young girl then, and had just taken in a kitten she had found wandering the streets near her home. She had named it "Sips" for when she had found it, the kitten had been trying to lick the dregs from a wine flagon some reveler had carelessly discarded. As the royal family passed, some excited onlooker bumped her from behind, making Sips yowl, spring out of Jeina's arms, and into the path of the oncoming parade. Tobin, then a mere boy himself, had scooped Sips up and glanced over to where Jeina was standing. She had held out her hands and called to him to please, if he would, send Sips back to her. The young prince had smiled at her, a malicious little grin, hugged the confused Sips closer to him, and continued to march forward.
Jeina had been furious. Young as she was, she might have rushed the royal parade and tackled young Tobin in an effort to get Sips back. She might have, if it hadn't been for Eathor who had been walking behind his little brother and seen the whole thing. He poked his brother, and whispered in his ear, but the younger Stonelord shook his head and only tightened his grip on the kitten. The elder prince sighed, looked at Jeina, and then plucked one of the silver buttons off his royal coat and threw it to her. Jeina was so overjoyed with the gift that she had momentarily forgotten about Sips. By the time she remembered, the royal family had passed out of sight, and the crowds had been too thick for her to chase them.
To this day, Jeina kept the button along with her most prized possessions, and every time she looked at it she was reminded of the kindness of Prince Eathor, and the greediness of his younger brother. She could still picture Tobin, holding onto Sips with that malevolent little smile, and as the words "King Tobin" sounded in her mind, she felt a small shiver crawl up her spine.
"So you really saw it?" Jeina heard one of the women asking Kirsten. "You saw the creature?"
"As sure as you see me standing here I saw it!" said Kirsten. "Isn't that right, Laiti?"
Laiti nodded emphatically.
"What did it look like, was it like Jeina said?" asked another woman.
"It was just as she said," affirmed Kirsten, giving Jeina a meaningful look. "It was just an arm, no more. The skin was all gray and cracked, and at first glance it looked merely like an oddly shaped stone. But mark my words, it was a hand. The claw of some demon creature, with jointed fingers just like a man but with beastly claws at the end that gleamed in the light of my lantern."
"So what did you do?" asked a third woman in a breathy voice filled with anticipation. Kirsten, who was obviously enjoying the attention her story was getting, said, "Well, I went to the campmaster, didn't I? While Laiti stayed in the cavern to make sure we wouldn't forget the spot. I mean, this was important, if there are more of those creatures we could all be in danger, so I figured the campmaster should know right away. Of course, when I found him, he didn't believe me. 'More of these stories?' said he. 'You women are wasting time looking for goblins, when it's silver you should be after!' He threatened to beat me with that staff of his if I didn't get back to work right away, but I wasn't half as afraid of one of his beatings as I was of working in dark tunnels with those creatures. So, I looked him square in the eyes and told him that if my story wasn't true, he could beat me all he liked and I wouldn't utter a word of complaint. Well, something must of gotten through to him, because h
e called two of the guards and told them to go down into the tunnels with me, and report back to him with what they saw.
"We had a damned difficult time getting back to the cavern where Laiti was waiting. The guards couldn't squeeze through half the places I could, and more than a dozen times we had to take a pickax to the rock to get through. But we finally made it back to Laiti, though it must have taken us hours."
"You were alone in the cavern with that...that dead beast's hand for hours?" a young girl asked Laiti, awed. "You must be so brave. I could never have done that."
Laiti's pale cheeks flushed with color, but she said nothing.
"Well, the guards took one look at the thing, and I could see in their eyes that they were more frightened than I was," resumed Kirsten. "Men they might be, and armed with swords, but they don't spend time in the dark caves like we do, and this isn't the first time I thought I've seen some horrible creature lurking in the shadows. We all went straight back out to see the campmaster, though it was late, and he and the guards whispered in his quarters for hours. Laiti and I fell asleep in the mess, and it was not until this morning that we were taken to be questioned by the campmaster and the captain of the guards. They wanted to know every detail of what we saw, and where it was we saw it. He had a quill and sheet of paper before him the whole time and it looked like he was taking down everything we said. When we had answered all the questions he could think of, he rolled up the parchment and gave it to the captain. I suspect they've sent a message to Prince Tobin himself...I mean King Tobin, as when we left the campmaster I saw a rider galloping away from the camp, headed east."
For hours the two women entertained more questions about their recent adventure, with Kirsten happily telling her story over and over, and Laiti nodding every time she was called upon to confirm a fact. Shut in, and with little else to do, stories of monsters and legendary creatures echoed in the women's barracks until the sun dipped down behind the mountains, and even then Jeina heard stories being whispered in the dark. As she was climbing into bed, Jeina felt a soft touch on her shoulder and looked around to find Laiti standing at her bedside, her pale blue eyes glinting in the emerging light of the moon. Jeina had always thought Laiti was an uncommonly pretty girl. She had jet black hair, a rarity among the Hinnjar, creamy white skin, and a figure almost too full to be a silver seeker, but tonight her appearance made Jeina feel as if she was seeing a ghost.
The Weight of a Crown (The Azhaion Saga Book 1) Page 4
