Viking Queen

by Savannah Rose

  What fills my ears can best be described as a roar. A roar of anger. A roar of welcome. A roar of homecoming.

  I am standing in the middle of a field, but it feels less like a field and more like a sea of people. The crowd pitches and moves like the sea, but four cliffs break the impact of these waves.

  I smile at each of my warriors in turn. Karsi, Eirik and Johan are all mounted, and Haki is standing at my side to help me onto the stately grey mare that he’s holding for me.

  A banner flutters above us, its blue and gold echoed all across the great field. My colors.

  “You have done well,” I say to the four of them. They nod impassively. My four lovers are veiled, and in their places are four warlike generals, poised for battle and awaiting their orders.

  ‘Done well’ seems like an understatement. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen so many people in one place before. What I know for sure is that I’ve never seen so many people so focused before, all eyes directed toward me and my warriors. I scan the faces around me and see the suffering of twelve years’ winter. I see that sadness of a kingdom deceived by a queen who claimed to have their best interests at heart. Above all I see a longing for change, and the trust that I can be the one to bring that change to them.

  And what do they see when they look at me, these angry, hopeful people? Well, I’m dressed in my own colors - a blue silk dress, though the top half is covered by a breastplate of pure gold.

  I touch my forehead and feel the circlet resting there, studded with sapphires. I know I look the part, but more to the point, I really feel like a queen for the first time. Maybe it was the coronation ritual. Maybe it was the union with my Warriors. Maybe it was losing Ysulte and realizing that I no longer have someone wrinkled and wise to turn to when things get tough. It doesn’t matter. I’m home now.

  I take a breath and begin to speak.

  “My loving people!”

  The whole crowd falls silent. Perfectly silent, like those thousands of people - men and women, all ready to fight for their queen and for themselves - are all holding the silence between them like it’s something precious. I love them for that.

  “I’ve missed you,” I say. Those weren’t the words that I was expecting to come out of my mouth, but somehow I know that they’re the right words. “I never knew what a hole there was in my heart until this moment, until I came to stand before you and felt the full weight of your love and loyalty.”

  I’m not speaking particularly loudly - certainly not yelling - yet I know that everyone in that field can hear every word.

  “I come here first to apologize to each and every one of you.” The quality of the silence changes, as if suddenly tinged by surprise. “Yes, I must apologize to you. For far too long you have suffered in this long winter. For far too long you have labored under the rule of a queen who cared only for her own advancement. I feel and regret every moment of that terrible suffering, and I stand before you today to beg your forgiveness.”

  Pure, unbroken silence. I continue.

  “But you are free now. It does not matter who sits in the throne room in the castle. It does not matter who hosts feasts and entertainments and…” I can’t resist here “…public executions. It doesn’t matter who calls herself your ruler. I do not command any of you to come before me on bended knee. I do not demand allegiance from any of you. I want only what is given freely, what comes from your own hearts. I do not ask you to serve me, but only to embrace the freedom that was always your right.”

  The crowd breaks out into another great roar.

  I lower my voice to barely above a whisper, knowing that it will reach every corner of this field, and speak just two words.

  “Follow me.”

  I’ve never ridden at the head of an army before. Let’s face it, how many people have?

  It’s the strangest feeling. Your ears are full of the sounds of thousands of people and horses - armor clinking, hooves hitting the ground, people talking quietly. Yet if you stay looking straight ahead, you feel completely alone. There’s nothing between you and the horizon, and only your own banner fluttering above between you and the blue sky.

  It’s one of those clear, crisp, cold winter days. Johan is annoyed about that. He says that it’s better to lay siege to a city on a day with poor visibility, so that your enemy can’t see you as clearly. I would have thought the flip side of that was that you can’t see your enemy as clearly either, but I don’t want to point that out. He’s the strategist here, not me. I’m the leader, the figurehead, the rallying point.

  My warriors are riding next to me in formation, each mounted on a huge chestnut horse. My own horse is dappled grey and arches her neck beautifully, as if she knows she needs to make me look good in front of all of these people.

  The hill on which the city sits climbs slowly into view. We can hear and smell the sea across the plain, but we can’t see it. By the end of this day, I promise myself, I will be sitting on my own throne in my own castle, gazing out at the sea view that I have known all my life.

  And Shar? I still haven’t decided what I’m going to do about her. I know that I won’t be able to live with myself if I kill her. I know that if I keep her in prison she’ll never stop trying to get out, never stop trying to rally resistance around her.

  There are so many people riding behind my banner that I ask Haki if there’s anyone left still serving Shar.

  “Not so many, dróttning. Mostly nobles who have ingratiated themselves with her and don’t want to see a regime change, and their servants and bondsman. Not so many. But enough.”

  “Enough for what?

  Haki’s usually-sunny face sets grimly as he turns to look at the castle. “Enough to put up a good fight,” he says.

  I can just about see them at the city walls and on the castles. Archers mostly, under Shar’s blood-red banner, their arrows already fitted to the quiver and trained on us.

  “So…” I turn to Johan. “What’s the plan?”

  He doesn’t want me at the head of the army when we go into attack. Part of me is angry about that - how can I expect the people to fight for me if they see me hanging back? But it makes sense, I suppose. They need me in a strategic capacity. I can’t just get hit by a stray arrow in the first five minutes.

  Karsi is going to take a small battalion and attack from the beach. It’s not so much that he thinks he can breach the castle that way, he explains, but at least it will stop them running away through the back if the castle falls.

  “When the castle falls,” he insists.

  Eirik is going to stay by my side, as my personal bodyguard. We never exactly agreed to it out loud, but we both understand that that’s how it’s going to be. I know that I won’t make proper decisions if I’m worrying about him, and we both know that I can’t possibly be safer than I will be with him protecting me. Johan’s going to stay close too and act as a commanding general. Haki will lead the cavalry.

  None of it feels real to me, but I can see in their motions and words that this is the battle they’ve been waiting to fight all their lives. The battle for something to believe in.

  We advance on the castle. It feels agonizingly slow - ten minutes of marching across that plane - ten minutes of looking at the weapons that will aim to kill us as soon as we get within range. We stop short just before the archers are in range of one another, and wait.

  What are we waiting for, I wonder. Then I realize. They’re waiting for me.

  The time for speeches is over. They’re rallied already, they’re all tense, waiting to spring. What words could I possibly use?

  Instead I draw the sword that’s hanging from my hip, and raise it above my head. A cry tears from my mouth - a war-cry, that’s the only word for it.

  “Fire at will!” Johan shouts.

  A wall of arrows flies up towards the city walls. A few of Shar’s archers fall, but not before they’ve sent back their own hail of arrows. I feel my heart break in two at the first person I see fall - a young woman
on my left side. But I’ve got to go on. This is what being in a battle is about.

  We lay siege to the castle for an hour. It’s the longest and fastest hour of my life. I can barely remember a time before the battle, and yet simultaneously everything seems sped up. One moment ladders are starting to be raised from the back of my army, and the next my warriors are scaling the city walls. Distantly, I can hear the cries of Shar’s army to pull back to the castle.

  “It’s going well, dróttning,” Johan says to me. It’s a slightly unnecessary piece of commentary, but it reassures me all the same.

  From inside, our men manage to open the city gates and we enter the keep of the main wall. Suddenly that vast army seems to have disappeared and now we’re fighting street by street, securing each house and building in turn. Most of them are empty - they belong to the people who have left the city to fight at my side. A few are occupied by waiting rebels, who spring out suddenly to attack.

  That’s what happens to Johan.

  He’s leading me through the streets, shouting instructions to all sides so fast that I can barely hear what he’s trying to say. His sword is drawn but he hasn’t yet needed to use it.

  Then suddenly, three men wearing Shar’s livery charge out of what seemed to be an abandoned house. They’ve seen me and are heading straight for me, their swords raised. Eirik readies himself. He can defend me against one of these men, or even two, but three seems impossible in all this chaos. My hands drift to my own sword, and I start to pray.

  But Johan is there. Whirling, spinning, slicing, screaming out great grunts of effort as he fights all three at the same time. There’s a deafening clanging of steel on steel as they fight. Then Johan has dropped his sword and has only the dagger that was hanging from his belt. Still he ducks and swerves, landing punches and stabs on the three rebels.

  Eirik is still standing before me.

  “By the gods, Eirik, help him!” I cry, aghast.

  “No, dróttning.” He shakes his head steadily. “My job is to protect you. Do not fear for Johan. He’s the greatest warrior this kingdom has ever known.”

  The greatest warrior this kingdom has ever known has managed to flip one aggressor over his back and left him stunned on the ground. The other two are advancing him, swords at the ready.

  He feints one side and the blow falls away from him. He uses the opportunity to make a dive for his sword, managing to grab it with his right hand…

  …But he doesn’t manage to turn around quite quickly enough. A blow lands on his chest, only inches from his heart. I have no idea how deep the sword drives, but it’s deep enough to send a great arch of blood spurting through the air.

  I give a great shriek of rage and horror, but it’s drowned out by the sound that emerges from Eirik. He sounds like a wounded bear, and all of a sudden we’re both running into the fray. Johan is still fighting, despite the blood that is streaming down from his chest. But surely he can’t last long.

  Clang!

  I don’t remember raising my sword, but somehow I manage to parry the blow that was heading straight for my neck. In a split second, I feel the sword in my hand and realize that it’s an extension of my own arm, that it has been all along. What my mind had forgotten but my body always knew was that our father trained both his daughters to be warlike. Warrior-queens. This is where I belong.

  I’m in the midst of the fight. Eirik and Johan are at either side, their muscled bodies threaded with exertion and the air full with the mist of blood. This seems to go on for a hundred years - but then suddenly, without realizing how, our three foes are on the ground, and everything is quiet. It’s only then that I realize how hard I’m breathing.

  “We need to get to the castle,” I say to Eirik. But then I remember what’s happened and whirl around to where Johan has sunken to his knees.

  “Johan!”

  “Dróttning,” he pants, his hand clamped to the place on his shoulder where the blood flows from. “Don’t worry about me. Keep going.”

  “Keep going?” I ask indignantly. Suddenly the general is gone, and before me kneels only my wounded lover. “Never. Not without you.”

  “You can do perfectly well without me,” he says, with his twisted, ironical smile. “That much is clear now, even if it wasn’t clear to you before.” He seizes my hand. His own is slippery with blood. “Trust yourself, dróttning. You’re a queen now. You can’t stay with me. You need to keep going.”

  “I can’t just leave you here,” I give back, my voice strained with emotion. I’d know that the possibility of losing one or all of my men existed. I’d even imagined the pain I’d feel if one of them were to go. Nothing, absolutely nothing compares to this. Adrenaline rushes through my vein and it seems as though all the strength that I’m meant to receive gets converted into anger. Anger at Shar, anger at whoever didn’t watch Johan’s back.

  “You are strong, my queen. Keep your head clear, it’s the only way you’ll win.” Pain coats Johan’s voice, weaving in and out of each syllable and as his eyes meet mine I feel like my heart’s being pressed by a boulder.

  I nod at his words. Partially because he’s right and partially because I don’t trust myself to speak.

  “Help me, Eirik,” I say, because no matter how much Johan would like to convince me that moving on is the right thing to do there’s no way in heaven or hell I’m leaving him here.

  Eirik seems satisfied with my decision. Johan seems the opposite. Not that he’d prefer to die in the midst of this all, but because he’s afraid for me. Because the greater good is what he’s after. The safety of his queen, a better world for our people. I want that too. And this won’t hinder how hard I’ll fight.

  With urgency and tears pricking behind my eyes, I do my best to avoid the attack while getting Johan out of the way. We manage to get him into an abandoned house and help him to lay down on a rug on the stone floor. Eirik finds him some water, and I bandage the wound as best I can. Tears fall from my eyes. I know this because even in his plight, Johan reaches up to brush them away.

  “You have to keep going, my queen” he says, kissing my hand. I lean down to kiss him full-blooded on the mouth, guiding my tongue over his. For a moment I forget the world and he forgets the pain and I can feel deep in my heart and in my soul just how much I need him.

  “We will come back for you, Johan.” I speak the words against his lips. “There is no me without you. It’s the five of us or nothing at all.” I brush my fingers against his cheek and steal one last glance at his eyes before allowing Eirik to pull me to my feet.

  “Do what you know is right, my queen. That’s the best thing you can do for me.”

  I know that he means it, and I nod.

  Leaving him there is like leaving part of myself, but the sooner I leave, the sooner I’ll be back. I grab Eirik’s hand, drawing strength from the sensation of his skin on mine, and together we race through the narrow streets to the entrance of the castle itself.

  My army is gathered outside, and twelve men are holding a huge tree trunk that they’ve felled. It hits the iron gates with a rhythmic boom. I feel like I can almost hear Shar’s laughter at every thump.

  They’ll never get in that way, I realize. Those gates are held closed with magic, and magic is the only thing that’s going to open them.

  “Get out of the way!”

  Everyone freezes at the sound of my voice. Eirik touches my arm, aghast.

  “What do you mean, dróttning? There’s no other way into the castle from this side.”

  I know that, better than anyone. This was the gate that Shar and I were never allowed to pass through, the portal to the world that we were never permitted to enter. This gate has always had a curse on it, whether we knew it or not. It’s time to break the spell.

  At my command, my army clears from the area around the castle doors. I stand there alone, a few feet before the wall, and raise my right arm in front of me. It’s the same motion as when I would put my hand on the door to Shar’s bed
room, reaching out with my mind and heart to sense the presence within.

  “You’ll never get it open, Rhea. You’re not as powerful as me.”

  Shar’s voice, magically amplified, rings out across the whole city. Suddenly I can see her in my mind’s eye, seated on her throne - the throne that will not be hers for much longer. Her eyes are closed, and she is reaching out with all her senses to sense what is happening in the battle throughout the city. I can feel that she is shaken but not yet desperate. She thinks the doors will hold.

  “More to the point,” the voice continues, tinged with the beginnings of a laugh. “You’re not as powerful as I think you are.”

  Suddenly I can hear another voice too. It’s not ringing out across the city, but instead it’s in the deepest recesses of my own head. It’s a voice that I didn’t consciously realize I’d heard before, but suddenly know beyond all doubt to be the voice of my father. He’s speaking calmly, kindly, and very very softly.

  “Shar just says these things to get a rise out of you,” he says softly in my head. “You musn’t give your sister power over you by reacting.”

  And he’s right. So instead I just smile, and raise my arm again. I reach out with every sense and every power that I possess. I channel into my arm my love of my people, my love of Ysulte, my passion for my warriors. More than anything else - and I know that this sounds insane - I channel the love that I have for my sister. It’s a strange love, a complicated love, but it’s still there.

  You’re not going to make me angry, Shar. You’re not going to have power over me by making me scream and cry and fall apart.

  Because we’re sisters.

  The doors burst open in a blaze of white light.

  There’s a moment when we all just stand there, stunned. I don’t know if anyone was really expecting it to work, least of all me. But now the door’s open, and the castle is ours for the taking. This time, I say to myself, I’m going to be the one to lead my people into battle.

  I’m barely an inch over the threshold before the first sword-blow comes at me. I parry it easily, and spin around to block the blows of another swordsman. I suddenly realize that Eirik and I are fighting back to back. Even through both of our layers of armor, even in the senseless swirl of battle, I feel anchored by the sense of his body so close to mine. I know that we’re going to make it through this day.