The Unforgiven

by A. Katie Rose

  Iyumi turned back to him. A slight smile crossed her face. Her granite gaze lightened a fraction as she eyed him sidelong. A swift hand-gesture tossed a heavy lock of silver hair across her shoulder. “I daresay I don’t blame you.”

  I blinked. And in that infinitesimal span of time, everything changed. Her fair lips lifted as she turned in a circle to include us all. “Had I been in your position, I’d have called me a bitch, too. I’m not nice, hardly polite and respect for others isn’t in my vocabulary. I earned your titles and your scorn, I’ll not deny it. However.”

  In that single word, she forced all breathing lungs to halt. Even the wind soughing through the pines ceased its whisper. The thunder of the river receded into the dim distance, like a dream half-remembered upon waking. Horses and Centaurs ceased swishing tails against persistent flies, and Griffin feathers lay flat as they tucked their wings tight to their shoulders. Minotaurs stood silent, jaws parted in bovine astonishment. Surely she utilized her powerful magic over the clearing, for what else could create such an effective stillness?

  “However.”

  Iyumi’s tone softened at the same time her right fist rose above her dainty head. “I’ll not hear one more slanderous title from any of you, but I’ll make you a deal. You call me either ‘Princess’ or ‘Your Highness’ from this moment on.”

  Her mouth softened into a fetching smile. “And I swear I’ll be less bitchy. Agreed?”

  “Agreed!”

  The word tossed from mouth to mouth in rumbling approval, though several brandished swords high and hollered, “Yeah, Princess!” No few yipped the Atani battle cry, a high pitched, ki-yi-yi-yi as they cupped hands or talons about their mouths to increase the decibels.

  In a rare show of affection, and a display no one present had ever witnessed, Iyumi took Malik’s hand within both of hers. I waved for the tumult and chaos to shut down, willing them to quiet, be still and listen. The river’s voice returned as a musical backdrop, and an eagle screamed from on high. A wolf howled far away, perhaps calling its mate, from the mountain’s dense forests across the great river.

  “You watched over my cradle, Malik,” Iyumi said, her voice both low and light. “Don’t think for a moment I’ve forgotten your loyalty, devotion or your love. I know I may own the first two. I promise I’ll earn the third.”

  “My queen.” Malik bent his foreleg, his fist thumping his chest as he dipped his chin low.

  “The prophesized child has been born, my lads and my lassies,” Iyumi said, her tone stern, as she glanced around at the ring of eyes, all soldiers, all of different species. Her wise blue vision took us all in, weighed, judged, and, hopefully, found none wanting. “But her birth mother is dying. Within days, no more than a week, she’ll leave this earth. The child the gods predicted long ago will perish for want of nurturing – unless we find her in time.”

  “That’s why you left.”

  My voice, and disrespectful tone, whipped her head around, her wild mane of spun silver flowing over her shoulders and rippling down her back to her hips. Those keen blue eyes, sharper than forged steel and tempered by the gods’ own flames locked on mine. Iyumi’s taut expression told me far more than her cryptic words.

  “Indeed, Van,” she replied, controlling her temper with an obvious effort. “Secrecy was the key.”

  Malik stepped forward at the same moment I cocked my head, catching the nuance.

  “Was?” I asked sharply. “You said ‘was’?”

  Iyumi nodded, folding her arms across her small bosom, as though feeling a sudden chill. “The gods spoke to me in my dreams, showed me a world where evil ruled. A witch, wise in the ancient practices of black magic, has made heinous sacrifices and grows powerful.”

  Iyumi gazed around the silent clearing, the river’ muted roar. Superstitious mutterings ran through the crowd of fierce, fearless Atani soldiers. Fingers and talons made the sign against evil enchantment as eyes flicked to one another uneasily. The magic we possessed and took for granted was as nothing compared to the dark powers one obtained through the worship of demons and blood sacrifice. Throughout the ages, our kind hunted down and executed these necromancers, stamping out demon worship. For over a hundred years, no witch dared practice this craft.

  “Do you know who this witch is?” Malik asked, his voice tight.

  Iyumi shook her head. “I know only the name she calls herself: the Red Duchess.”

  “A Raithin Mawrn noble?” I asked.

  “She may be from Raithin Mawr,” Iyumi answered slowly, considering. “She might also be from Bryn’Cairdha. Or she may be from another land entirely. One gently born, certainly, and one born to magic. A few libraries around the world still contain many ancient manuscripts that carry the understanding of demon worship and the dark arts. They are kept secret and under guard, but someone with connections and power could read them and gain their arcane knowledge.”

  “What does this Red Duchess want with the child?” Malik asked, his brow furrowed. “If she told the Raithin Mawrn, she must want them to conquer us. Yes?”

  Iyumi shook her head, smiling with a heavy sadness I’d never seen on her before. “I doubt very much she cares about our fight with them,” she said, her tone low. “She, too, seeks the child, the messenger. At the time of the prophecy, when the sun and the moon rise together in the east, she will sacrifice the child on her demon’s altar. If that happens –”

  Silence descended over the clearing as Iyumi paced out from beneath our shadows and glanced up at the blue sky peeping from between tree branches. Sunlight draped her from head to toe. Shutting her eyes, she tilted her face upward as though reveling in the warmth and light. The mark from Flynn’s fist stood out stark against her pale complexion. “Imagine this, my friends,” she said, her eyes still closed. “A queen with all the power of evil at her fingertips ruling both our countries. With the demons she worships at her back, we’d have no chance against her. After grinding us into dogmeat, she’d rule us, and Raithin Mawr, and merge our two lands into one.”

  Malik and I exchanged a horrified glance. “But,” I began, my throat as dry as dust, “that’s the prophecy.”

  “Indeed it is.”

  “Impossible,” Malik gasped. “That can’t be right.”

  Iyumi lowered her face and opened her eyes. Turning back toward us, she swiped her silver hair from her face. “It is right, Commander,” she answered him, her voice grave. “But then again – our prophecy is also right.”

  “But –”

  “We walk a knife’s edge, kids.”

  Her voice rose so all near her could hear. Not there was any danger of that – I doubt anyone took a breath and no eye but fastened on her. She owned their hearts and their fears, seized their attention and with it their terrors. They looked to her for protection, for the answers not even she could provide.

  “Should we wander off our given course,” she said simply, her small hands at her sides, “even for a moment, the chance we’re given, the choice we took, is gone forever. None of us dare falter in our task.”

  “And if we do?”

  Iyumi searched the crowd for the owner of the skepticism. Her confidence never wavered, nor did her pointing finger. The cavalry wretch at the back visibly wilted. His brothers cursed him, smacked him upside his head and pushed him forward. Knuckling his brow in homage, he quickly saluted formally, his face redder than an annoyed rooster.

  “There are two sides to every prophecy. One side represents good and the other evil. Our version ends with peace and hope for us all. Yet, should she win that child and murder it on her evil alter –”

  Iyumi smiled sadly. “Well, let’s just say nothing will ever be the same again.”

  “Darkness will rule,” I said softly. “Nor will it end here.”

  “You’re more perceptive than I gave you credit for, Captain Vanyar,” Iyumi replied. “Indeed, the Red Duchess will move to conquer other lands, destroying anything that’s good or happy or peaceful in this worl
d of ours.”

  For the first time I found admiration for this slender silver bitch. With unquestionable courage and unswerving devotion, she set off alone to save us all. I finally understood her and the need that drove her. I also knew I’d never call her a bitch again.

  Yanking my sword from its sheath, I dropped to my knee. Resting it on the palms of my hands, I raised it, gazing up into her sapphire eyes. “Your father gave me this sword,” I said, my voice hoarse. “On the day I joined the Atan brotherhood. I now pledge it to you, my queen, for it is yours, as I am.”

  My words and oath jolted her. Her right hand rose to her chest as though suddenly unsure of herself. When it reached out to touch the blade, her fingers trembled. “I –” she began, and choked off. “I accept both, First Captain Vanyar.”

  “I should’ve been first to do that,” Malik muttered as I rose and sheathed my sword. “I despise following in your steps, Van.”

  I grinned as Iyumi chuckled. “No worries, Commander,” she said. “I know you thought of it first.”

  “I think we all have pledged ourselves to you, Princess,” Ba’al’amawer rumbled, gesturing around the clearing. “We’re with you, to the end. Command us.”

  She didn’t. Instead, Iyumi walked a short distance away, her head down, her silver-gilt hair hiding her face. The cavalry, the Minotaur soldiers, Centaurs and the Griffins, all parted for her like sea waves over rock. Beaks, muzzles and chins dropped as fists and talons crossed chests in salute. She halted at the river’s edge beside an eddying pool of clear water. Dipping into a graceful squat, she filled her cupped hands and drank deeply. However, she didn’t rise immediately after dashing excess water from her fingers. Her cloak piled behind her boots and her lengths of hair spilled over the loose soil, dead leaves and twigs. She appeared to study her reflection.

  “Finian’s thugs killed them,” she said, speaking to the river. “The soldiers who accompanied me. They cut their throats in the night. I was powerless to save them.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  Malik’s hand on my shoulder prevented me from going to her. “You have more power than any of us,” I went on. I scraped his hand away, but stood still. “Why did you fake illness? I know it was to give us time to rescue you, but why didn’t you free yourself?”

  “Van,” Malik said, his tone low, warning.

  “It’s a fair question, Commander.”

  Iyumi stood and turned slowly around. Bits of leaves and a twig or two clung to her tresses, but she didn’t seem to notice. Her hands clasped in front of her, she appeared to be no older than twelve and as helpless as a newborn fawn. Naked fear twisted her lips and grew in her eyes. “I’ve no more magic than your average hedge wizard.”

  “What?” I snapped. “You’re Roidan’s daughter.”

  Iyumi smiled sadly. “That may be, Van, but the gods gave me their voice, not their power.”

  Extending her palm, a knife appeared in it. With a casual flick of her wrist, she sent it blade-first into the dirt between my ankles. “I can create simple things from nothing,” Iyumi continued, as a single pink rosebud grew upon her palm. She tucked it into her hair over her ear, before smiling into my eyes. “Permit me to stop your heart, Vanyar.”

  That palm reached for me and planted itself squarely over my chest. Iyumi’s face twisted in concentration, her eyes narrowed, her brows furrowed. I should be frightened, I thought, she could kill me. I felt her reach for magic, take hold of the power instilled in all of us – and listened as it slipped from her grasp. Like sand, it spilled onto the ground, useless. She tried once more to seize hold of the arcane within us all, only to have it melt away and drift like a summer breeze across the trees.

  I took her cold hand within mine, and massaged her knuckles. She gazed up at me, tears filling those huge blue depths. “See?” she asked, her voice cracking. “As much as I’d like to, I can’t kill you, Vanyar.”

  I raised her tiny fist to my lips and kissed it. “Offer me your smile,” I murmured. “And I’ll drop dead at your feet.”

  A blush warmed her face as she yanked her hand from mine. She spun away, her face returning to its former scowl. Quickly, she drew a deep breath and her voice, when she spoke, had hardened. “I haven’t the power most of you have,” she said. “I have the reputation, but nothing with which to back it up.”

  “So you thought to delay them,” Malik ventured, pretending he, Padraig, Windy, Storm Cloud, Ba’al’amawer, Muljier, Raga, Aderyn and Valcan hadn’t noticed a thing.

  “Exactly. Only my feigning illness convinced them to stop.”

  “Well, it worked,” I said brightly, into the tense silence. “They stopped, we got you back, and it’s all good. Right?”

  “What are we supposed to do, then?” Malik asked.

  She studied the ground at her boots. “Two have died on this expedition,” she murmured. “More will die. Unless I go alone.”

  “You little fool,” I snapped, protocol forgotten. “I’ll tie you hand and foot to that damn roan if I must. You will sooo not go alone.”

  Malik, who never long tolerated disrespect to rank, stood shoulder to shoulder with me. “I’m with him, girl,” he gritted, raising his hand. The sun glinted off his wrist cuff. “Try to escape me, and I’ll do more than just tie you.”

  The dark pewter manacles suddenly appeared in his fist. No magical power of this world could resist that of the dreaded metal. No few stepped back, myself and Windy included, fearing the touch that parted us from our gods-given magic. Not even Roidan’s daughter was immune to them, for she, too, eyed them with trepidation, her lips thinned.

  Chief Ba’al’amawer stalked forward as Iyumi opened her mouth to protest. “Set aside these terrible ideas, Princess,” he rumbled, his broad hand on the rayed star over his breast. “For we are loyal, and would fain die as have you leave us behind. Where you go, we go.”

  Windy, his black-tufted ears canted backward, stalked on silent feet to stand at her back. No doubt, he expected her to bolt, run for the nearest horse and gallop away. Aderyn, her face set and cold, ducked out from behind Windy’s massive form to stand at Iyumi’s right hand. Startled, Iyumi eyed her up and down for a long moment, her tongue wetting her lips.

  The other Atani soldiers, grumbling, their expressions intent, ringed us around. Cavalry soldiers kicked their horses to ride in a circle at the outer edges of the clearing, ducking under low tree limbs. Swift Wing and Grey Mist crouched, wings out and lion tails lashing, ready to hit the sky should the gods permit her to grow wings of her own and fly her out from under us.

  “We’re with you,” I murmured. “Like it or not, you’re stuck with us.”

  Iyumi glanced aside, her hair hiding her face. “I can’t watch you die,” she whispered. “I can’t – I cannot – lead you to your deaths. For death is all I see on this path.”

  “Death isn’t to be feared, Princess,” I said, pacing into her personal airspace. While my genes forbade my enfolding her in my arms, I could, and did, brush silver lengths from her face.

  She glanced up, her lips thin, but from fear this time, not anger. “But –”

  “It is but another journey,” I went on, my voice low. “One we all must make, in our time. We Atani embrace death, we’ll never run from it. Should any of us die protecting you, and this child you seek, then it’s a good day to die. It won’t be from any fault of yours.”

  “You can’t be so sure,” Iyumi whispered, cringing from my hand.

  “You don’t see all ends,” Malik growled, folding his arms across his bare chest. “I have vision and power. I see death for some, yes, but not as many as you’d think. I also see hope, a hope for life, and for our Bryn’Cairdha.”

  “See?” I bantered lightly, my fingers teasing her cheek. “Malik has spoken. He’s like a bloody oracle, but try his speech after he’s had a few shots of that bitter homebrew of his. Grow hair on your chest it will, but he’ll spout enough platitudes you’d think you staggered into a mayoral r
ace.”

  “Vanyar, I swear I’ll have you scrubbing –”

  Iyumi tried, in vain, to stifle a giggle and leaned into my hand. Not enough to suggest she liked me, but enough to acknowledge she received my comfort and appreciated it. Stepping lightly away from me, Iyumi squared her shoulders and drank deep of the crisp mountain air. Tossing her heavy hair back, across her shoulders, she faced us with her hands on her black leather hips.

  Her smile bloomed like a tundra flower, rare, and stunningly beautiful while it lasted. “Sometimes the gods let others speak for them. I reckon I’m not permitted to go alone – “

  “Of course you can’t,” I began.

  “– although I think that’s the wiser course.”

  “Princess,” I said, leaning toward her and grinning. “We don’t always get what we want.”

  Iyumi half-smiled as she flipped me a sign seldom seen in Roidan’s courts. “Bite me, Vanyar.”

  I saluted. “Your will, my liege.”

  “Cavalry, form ranks,” Malik bellowed. “Clan Chief, you command the vanguard, Commander Swift Wing –”

  Iyumi waved her hand. Possibly she used her limited magic. Or perhaps the gods favored her request, should she pray for silence. Either way, Malik suddenly cut off, his mouth working. He tried to form words, his hand at his throat, his dark eyes wide with effort. No command escaped his irate and blustering, though silent, lips.

  “Have you forgotten so soon, my Lord Commander?” she asked, her tone like honey. “I’m in charge here. I may not go alone, but I will pick who accompanies me.”

  “Now wait –” I began and suddenly cut off. The same magic that gagged Malik now shut me up. I breathed, moved my tongue, but no words pushed past my tonsils. I settled for glaring at her as she scowled, dangerous and hard to handle – again.

  “This band,” she said, her hand gesturing around the massed Atani, “is too many. To hunt the royal stag, one must have a few smart hounds and an adept archer. We hunt a wise and clever witch. Less is more, this day.”

  “Princess,” Chief Ba’al’amawer protested, his huge horns lowered as his dark eyes glowered. “You can’t go alone. You just can’t.”