by Jon Sprunk
He imagined Kit’s voice. These are your people, Caim. Your father’s people. Can you turn your back on them? And if you do, what will you become?
The horror turned to anger inside him, and then ignited into a full-on rage. He studied every detail of the scene. This was what Liana’s people were fighting against.
Snow crunched behind him. Caim intercepted Liana before she saw the massacre. She didn’t ask why, but let him lead her in another direction. As they made their way through the clearing, Caim imagined the dead all around him, scores upon scores buried beneath the virgin snow. Come spring, this meadow would become a charnel pit. Swarms of insects would feast and lay their eggs in the bloated flesh of these people who had lived and breathed just a few short weeks ago. As they approached the trees lining the edge of the village, Caim heard a scraping sound half a heartbeat before several dark figures emerged from the vegetation. Snow dusted the hoods of their heavy cloaks. Light glinted off drawn weapons. Seven men in all, unless more remained hidden. Caim counted four bowmen among them, their arrows pointed at him. Liana stiffened at his side.
“Don’t move,” he whispered.
While Liana stood as if frozen in place, Caim shifted his weight away from her. If the archers fired, he didn’t want them hitting her by mistake. He took a small step and reached back for his suete knife.
“Take another step, boyo,” one of the figures said. “And you’ll be food for the crows.”
Caim’s hand tightened on the hilt.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Josey blinked against the soft light filtering through the chamber’s frosted windows as tears slid down her face. She didn’t bother to wipe them away. They were a comfort, of a sort. She was the empress. She could cry if she wanted.
Doctor Klav had departed her bedchamber only minutes ago, but he hadn’t been able to take his tidings with him. After he left, Amelia looked in on her, but Josey waved her away. The last thing she remembered was fainting in Hubert’s arms, which was the first thing on her mind when she awoke. She didn’t think anything could be worse than the embarrassment of that memory. Then the doctor had entered, and mortification had turned to fear, deeper and more pervasive than anything she’d ever experienced. The fact that she hadn’t been poisoned was no consolation.
With a deep breath, she pushed herself out of bed. She dressed herself, not wanting to be bothered with her maids. She needed time to think, to try to make sense of the shambles her life had become. Instead she got Hubert.
“Majesty,” he began as he entered her chamber, “I’m relieved to see you up and about. We feared the worst after your spell.”
We? That’s right. They hadn’t been alone when she swooned. Josey went to her nightstand and poured some water over her hands, using them to pat her face. She looked around for a cup.
“Hubert, about that, I want you to tell everyone that it was something I ate, but I’m fine now.”
“Of course. Your court will be overjoyed to hear it.”
Remembering the last audience session in the throne room, Josey rather doubted they would, particularly in the case of Lady Philomena. She could picture the woman, kneeling in the great cathedral before the saints and angels, praying for the new empress’s early demise.
“Speaking of which,” Hubert said. “Your war council is scheduled to convene this afternoon, should you feel up to attending.”
Josey hardly heard what he’d said. Her head was full of other thoughts, about herself, about Caim, and about what the future held for them. If anything.
“I’m sorry, Hubert. Yes, I will be there. I’m still feeling a little …”
He leaned forward. “Majesty, is everything all right? The doctor said you were in fine health, yes?”
Josey bit her bottom lip. She had decided to keep this knowledge to herself and pretend everything was normal. At least until she couldn’t hide the problem any longer. Now, standing here, she couldn’t keep it in, not from this man who had risked so much to support her since the day she took the throne. She owed him the truth. She took a deep breath and clasped her hands together to steady them.
“Hubert. I’m … I am with child.”
She watched the progression of thoughts across his face in quick succession. It started with confusion and meandered into denial, and finally landed in the realm of stark terror. She’d felt the same when she heard the news. She’d questioned the doctor extensively until he assured her with solemn dignity that his determination was beyond reproach. It was only after she’d packed him off with a pledge of silence that she was able to wrap her head around the idea. Seeing someone else go through it gave her a better sense of perspective. I’m going to be a mother.
“Uh …” Hubert swallowed and tried again. “Majesty, I know this may seem indelicate, but I must ask. Who … ah …”
Josey frowned, and then a furious blush exploded across her face when she realized what he was getting at.
“It’s Caim’s child, Hubert. Who else do you think?”
“Of course. Forgive me. I wasn’t aware—I was caught by surprise.”
“It’s all right. I was a little taken aback myself when I found out. I think I frightened Doctor Klav with threats of dungeon cells and chain gangs.”
He paced across the length of the room. “We will have to make preparations, naturally. A governess must be selected. The old salon could be converted into a nursery—”
“Hubert!” She smiled. “Relax. We’ll manage it.”
He nodded as he crossed the carpet going the other way. “Your ministers must be notified immediately. This child will be heir to the throne. And I hesitate to mention this, but it brings into question once more the subject of your, ah, marital status.”
Josey bit down on her lip, feeling the urge to strangle him. Instead, she found a porcelain cup and filled it with water. “I warned you not to pursue that subject, Lord Chancellor. And you can tell that to the court if you like!”
“But—”
“Caim!” She couldn’t help raising her voice, even though the door was open. She didn’t care. “I will marry Caim and no one else. Understand?”
Hubert’s eyebrows rose to a peak. “Indeed.”
She pushed a loose strand of hair out of her face. “Good. Now, please leave me in peace for a while. Tell my ladies I wish to be alone.”
He sketched a deep bow and left the room. Josey turned to the window and sipped from the cup. The water was tepid, but it felt good on her parched throat. Outside, gray clouds smudged the sky, but still no sign of snow. She touched her belly. Would Caim be happy? Or disappointed? She thought back to the one night they had shared together, the night he had told her he was leaving Othir. She’d hoped she could change his mind. She cried for days when he didn’t. Only Hubert understood why. And now a child grew inside her.
Another thought insinuated its way into her brain and forced her to remember a different night, a hideous night. The night at Kas’s cabin in the woods when the Sacred Brotherhood came for her. She saw Markus’s face again, mottled with half-healed scars, and remembered his hands upon her. The cup slipped from her fingers. The sound of shattering pottery filled her ears. The room spun before her.
As the door opened and her maids rushed in, one thought hammered at the inside of her skull.
What if Caim wasn’t the father?
Caim’s heart beat faster as four bronze arrow points centered on his chest. He sank into a lower stance. The hooded figures were spread out in a loose arc. He cast out his senses for the shadows, and a tingle slid down his back. The sword.
“Gaelan!” Liana shouted as she ran toward one of the figures.
Caim started to draw his knife, but she threw herself onto the man. Thick arms came up to seize her in a fierce embrace.
“Caim.” She extricated herself. “This is my cousin. Gaelan, meet Caim.”
Hoods were pulled back, and hard eyes stared at him. The men reminded Caim of the outlaws who had taken him from Hagan’s hou
se: big, rawboned men at home in the wilds. Caim was aware of how he must have looked to them—torn clothing, nasty scars, dried blood crusted all over. So while Liana explained who he was and what they were doing out here, he stayed a few paces away and scanned the landscape ahead. The gentle slope they’d been following continued to rise as it approached the range of hills. The land was pocked with folds and ridges. It would be easy to get lost in this country. Suddenly he felt a new sense of vulnerability. He might have been born in this land, but it was still a stranger to him.
Two of the outlaws turned and started up the hillside on makeshift snowshoes. Clever. They hardly leave any tracks.
“They’re going to escort us to the castle,” Liana said.
Her cousin raised a bushy eyebrow, but he didn’t contradict her.
“Wonderful,” Caim replied. By “escort” they really meant “guard,” as in him specifically.
Liana started out walking beside Gaelan, but after a while she dropped back to Caim. “I asked, but they haven’t seen any of the others.”
The anxiety was plain in her voice. Caim tried to sound reassuring.
“That blizzard must have blanketed this entire region. I’m sure Keegan is fine. He’s a strong kid.”
Liana nodded as she marched alongside him. A strong woman, fetching in face and figure. She would be a fine wife one day. For someone else.
The scouts took them up the face of a winding ridge and down into a shallow defile. The woods thinned around them, but the snow thickened. By the time it reached Caim’s waist, he was half dragging Liana by the hand, despite her protests that she could make it on her own. They crawled up the foot of the center hill in this way for the better part of two candlemarks until Caim was bathed in a cool sweat under his leathers. Exhausted from fighting the snow, he was grateful when he saw their guides had halted up ahead.
When he and Liana reached them, Gaelan nodded his head up the slope. “The castle lies before you. We go back to our post.”
Liana gave him a brief hug. “Thank you, Cousin. When will you return?”
“Two days from now, if the weather holds. Otherwise, Killian will use it as an excuse to leave us out there for another turn.”
As the outlaws left, Caim gazed up the way before them. The defile sank deeper between the ridges on either side to disappear into the hillside. A good place for an ambush. The ridges commanded a view of the entire approach; sentries would spot intruders long before they got this far. His gaze touched on the places on the hill where he would place watchers.
Liana didn’t wait for him, and he was forced to follow her. Fortunately, the sides of the defile had shielded it from the worst of the storm so that the snow here was lower than in the surrounding countryside. By the time they reached the summit of the narrow pass, the crust on top of the powder no longer reached their ankles, but Caim hardly noticed as he looked ahead.
The canyon descended into a magnificent valley nestled between the mist-shrouded peaks. Sheer cliffs fell on either side more than five hundred feet to the valley floor. Between clusters of evergreens stretched snow-covered fields choked with the withered husks of rotted brush and stunted trees. A heap of stone stuck out from the canyon like a rocky fist. The outlines of once-proud walls and square towers peeked from under the mantle of snow. A fort, or the remnants of one. It was not as impressive as he’d dared to hope. Swathed in ice and dead ivy, the lone fortification looked centuries old.
“This,” Liana said, “is what Caedman calls the last bastion of freedom in Eregoth.”
Caim grunted as he followed her down the stony path. Their arrival did not go unnoticed. Before they were halfway down the slope, a group of men came out of the trees and gathered at the foot of the trail. All had spears in hand, with more weapons belted to their waists. He didn’t see any women among them, but a small army could have been hidden among the trees.
Caim stopped beside Liana as one of the group, an older man, stepped forward. His long gray hair was pulled back and tied at the base of his neck. Though well into his middling years, he looked tough enough to wrestle a bear. And I know exactly what that feels like.
“I see you, Hagan’s daughter,” he said in a strong, deep voice. “But who is this you have brought?”
“This is Caim, a friend.”
The group leader’s eyes were the clear blue of snowmelt. “You know our laws. Strangers aren’t allowed here, Liana. And those that find us can’t never leave.”
Caim shifted his feet, not liking the sound of that.
“He is no stranger,” Liana said. “He comes from Nimea to help us in our fight.”
A shaggy mountain of a man standing at the rear of the group hawked and spat on the ground. “No help comes from Nimea.”
“That’s what Ramon believed,” Liana said, “until Caim fought by his side at Guthern Prison. He helped us free Caedman.”
“Where is Caedman?” the leader asked.
Caim looked to Liana. What to tell them? The truth might get him lynched on the spot, and he hadn’t come this far to fight these people. But how to convince them of that?
“He follows with the others,” Caim replied. “He was injured.”
“Tortured.” The older man worked his jaw like he was chewing something bitter. “We heard the rumors, though we didn’t want to believe them.”
The others looked downcast by the news, and Caim understood. Caedman had been more than their leader; he was their inspiration. Without him, they were just a band of farmers and herdsmen.
“If the weather holds, they’ll be here by tomorrow,” Caim said, hoping he was right.
The leader nodded. “Caim, is it? I am Killian of the Indrig clan.”
Liana put a hand on Caim’s shoulder. “We are tired from the journey. May we enter?”
“Take your ease.” Killian gestured, and the men parted. “We shall speak more tomorrow.”
As he followed Liana through the gauntlet of outlaws, Caim felt their eyes upon him. Once again he was the outsider. You think I’d be used to it after all this time.
Liana took him down a narrow trail through the fir and pine trees. It emerged under the spur of rock and climbed to a gap in the crumbling walls. Inside they found a wide bailey yard. Longhouses of raw timber, roofed in pine branches, were built against the outer walls. A few people, mostly women and a few children, worked and played in the courtyard. Ignoring the glances cast at him, Caim followed Liana to a hut set off by itself in a dark corner of the yard. There was snow piled in front of the door, and the place had an abandoned look to it, but Liana entered without hesitation. The interior was dark. Leaves were scattered across the floor, and a small drift of snow rested against the back wall. Liana set to gathering sticks from a pile.
A short time later, Caim sat beside a crackling fire, holding a wooden bowl to his lips as he shoveled in mouthfuls of hot oats. He hadn’t realized how famished he was until Liana started cooking. When the bowl was empty and the hole in his belly somewhat filled, he reclined on the woven reed mats that made up the hut’s floor. Smells of earth and smoke filled the air. He could fall asleep right here. In fact, he caught his eyes drooping and forced them open. On the other side of the small room, Liana ate from her bowl. Her demeanor had changed since entering this house. Whereas before she’d been strong and secure, voicing her opinion however she liked, she was now demure almost to the point of acting like a servant girl in her master’s house, and he didn’t know why. He hadn’t done anything. At least, he didn’t think he had.
“Who lives here?” he asked.
Liana looked up, but didn’t meet his gaze. “My brother, when he’s here.”
The hut had no furniture, just some cooking utensils, a stack of kindling wood, and a few items hanging from the peaked ceiling. One of those items was a bundle of multicolored feathers tied around what looked to be a bleached animal bone. Caim stared at it while lying on his side.
“He should be here soon,” he said.
She bo
bbed her head. Caim waited for a few heartbeats. When nothing more was forthcoming, he started to ask what was the matter, but Liana preempted him by climbing to her feet. Carrying the bowls, she went outside.
Sighing, Caim lay on his back. He was too tired to care. He closed his eyes, but instead of soothing darkness he saw a white plain and a row of pale bodies arranged in the snow. He pulled his cloak tighter and inched closer to the fire.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Caim tensed as her lips settled over his mouth, but the softness of her kiss coaxed his muscles to relax, and he sank back onto the sumptuous bed.
Her silky hair fell over his face, down his neck. Her fingers left trails of blazing heat on his bare skin. The smell of her perfume filled his head, leaving him incapable of thought or care. This was what he wanted, this and nothing else.
“Caim,” she whispered. “Be mine.”
The blood coursed in his temples as the answer was ripped from his throat.
“I am. I am yours.”
But her hands left him, and a cold wind washed over his body. He reached for her, but she slipped from his grasp.
“Caim, come to me. Come find me.”
He sat up as a gust of wind tore aside the flimsy silken canopy. A dark fog covered everything. Her voice sounded distant, like she was calling from the other side of the world.
“Caim … Come to me.”
“Kit!”
Caim awoke with a start.
It took him a moment to realize where he was. For an instant, the rafter over his head made him think of a cabin in the woods far to the south. Then he remembered the prison, the fighting, the witch.
Bodies in the snow.
He rubbed his eyes as he sat up. Kit and him? Where had that notion come from? Not that it hadn’t been a pleasant dream, but still … Where was she? He’d thought, after hearing her voice at the prison, that she would return soon, but days had passed and there was still no sign. Worse, he was starting to become used to missing her.
