The SoulNecklace Stories

by R. L. Stedman

  “Eat,” said N’tombe sternly. “Don’t talk.”

  I set the food in my mouth and chewed as quickly as was polite.

  “Many years ago,” said Rosa, “a visitor bought the Kingdom a gift. This.”

  She pointed at the ruby, resting like a splash of blood on her chest.

  “Not much of a present,” I thought of my dream; of the old woman, her heart torn open.

  Rosa shook her head. “You don’t understand. The ruby does not kill. It transforms. This necklace, which you think of as evil, is not a thing of adornment. It is a collection.”

  A collection? There was more to this than she was saying. Who was this visitor? What was the ruby? Why had he brought it here to us?

  “Quickly,” growled N’tombe.

  “Hush now,” Rosa laid her pale hand on N’tombe’s arm, smiled up into her worried face. “This man, this visitor, helped the Kingdom gather its defenses. Dana, when the Kingdom is under attack, the land rouses.”

  I thought of the forest, of the life that leapt from it like a fountain of fire, and the river that could rise in a heartbeat. Yes, there was power there.

  “Exactly,” said N’tombe. “Every land has power. But here the Guardian can channel it. The land builds its own protection.”

  “Dana, you won’t be harmed,” Rosa said. “You are of the Kingdom. And N’tombe will be safe too, for she is with you.”

  “I am not worried for myself,” said N’tombe. “My concern is for Will and his companion.”

  “Will?” I jumped to my feet. “Where is he? Let me go to him.”

  Rosa smiled, the tight lines of worry loosening. “Did you not look at the faces of the men you saved?”

  I shook my head. I had been too caught up in swimming, in saving their lives, in avoiding lightning. “You mean ... that was Will?”

  “I brought him halfway round the world for you,” said N’tombe with a flicker of a grin, “and you didn’t even notice.”

  I stared at her. How had she done this? “The stars are strange,” Will had said. She could move people around the world, yet became excited by everyday things like bread and meat.

  “He is well,” N’tombe turned to the west window. “They have found a cave.”

  “I must go.”

  Rosa smiled. “You must. But first I have three things for you. The first is advice: do what N’tombe tells you. She is born to magic. You will travel far, child, but she will keep you safe. The second is a command: you must leave the Kingdom.”

  “Leave the Kingdom?” I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. What a time to have my prayer of escape answered. “Why?”

  “This king, reportedly eternal, is powerful. He must be stopped. Our duty is to the Kingdom. I must stay with it, but you, with your heart of fire, you can escape. Find a way to defeat him.” She paused.

  For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. What was she talking about? Will had returned! And now, I was to leave the Kingdom?

  “The third thing,” said N’tombe, prompting.

  “Ah yes. I have a gift.” Rosa put her hand to the necklace, to the gems shaped into clusters of gold-rimmed flowers, and closed her eyes.

  I felt trapped in a bubble of timelessness, caught out of the world as Rosa pulled at the glistening, heavy thing. A vein throbbed at her temple as slowly, slowly, she pulled her hands apart. Alive, aware, the necklace struggled at her touch, shrieked in a silent voice. Between her fists I saw a shimmering thread that flowed in the light like quicksilver as it stretched and parted. The scream stopped. The necklace opened.

  She moved her hands again, climbing them down the beads as a man clambers down a ladder. The ruby clung to Rosa’s chest as though it was glued there. And again she set her fists together and pulled. Again, the soundless scream as the silver between the beads stretched and snapped.

  The world jerked into place. Outside, a crow cawed. Children called in the courtyard. At the table sat Rosa, with two strands of jewels set on the table in front of her. On the longer one, the ruby dangled in the center like a key, but there was no sign of the loops of flowers, ornately cut gems, or gold encrustations. Just two strands of beads, each bead different from the other, each unique: finely carved ivory or wood or rich enamel. On the longer strand some were shaped into figures: an elephant, a camel, a house. The beads on the shorter strand were plainer, and seemed to be made of colored glass.

  She sighed. “It is done.” She bent the longer strand up on itself, and like iron filings to a magnet, the ends met and touched and there was a necklace, shorter and less magnificent than the original, with the ruby dangling as its centerpiece. She did the same with the smaller strand, and handed it to me. “Yours.”

  I didn’t want to touch the thing.

  “It won’t hurt you. Take it. Wear it on your wrist’ She sounded amused, and a little tired. “Dana, the necklace is more than just a string of beads. It is a collection of souls.”

  I stared at her, touched the smaller strand with the tip of my finger. Five beads in different colors, making an unbroken circle. They were curiously warm. Feeling as though I was putting my hand into fire, I held my breath and slipped the strand onto my wrist.

  “The ruby transforms a Guardian, and so the necklace grows. You’ve met one of the souls already.”

  “Rinpoche.” Turned into sparks, he’d leapt away with the wind. I looked at my empty finger.

  “They are not all as kind, or as merry, but you will grow used to them in time. Remember: you are born to this. It is your birthright.” She smiled kindly. “Few of us are as strong or as wise as you, my dear.” She kissed me on the forehead. Her breath was warm and smelt of age. “Be well, child.”

  Rosa looked at N’tombe. “It is time.”

  “That,” said my tutor, “is what I’ve been telling you.”

  Rosa put a hand on her arm. “Take care.”

  N’tombe placed her own palm over Rosa’s. “You also.”

  I followed her down the stairs, past the torches that flickered and died. I didn’t look back. I didn’t want to see Rosa standing alone, as she had always been.

  * * *

  “I have horses,” N’tombe took my hand, lifted me out of the darkness of the empty stairwell. In the courtyard the bonfire was lit. Barrels of pitch had been set to melt beside the fire. Women rolled strips of cloth into bandages. Mother sat in a chair in the shelter of the gatehouse, snipping cloth into lengths. I curtsied to her as best I could, my sodden skirts clinging to my legs.

  “Oh dear. Oh Dana.” With a sob she threw herself at me. “I thought ...” She stopped.

  “You thought?”

  She didn’t answer me, but pulled the neckline of my top down and ran her hand over the top of my sternum. “No.”

  “I’m wearing the necklace, Mother.” That was what she wanted, wasn’t it? “Part of it, anyway. Look.” I lifted my wrist and waved it under her nose.

  “It’s not over your heart,” she said, her voice wondering.

  I shook my head and she smiled, the tightness around her lips and eyes easing.

  “Your Majesty,” called N’tombe, “are the horses ready?”

  “Here we are,” Daddy came through the open portcullis looking like a groom, his shirtsleeves rolled up. Two men followed behind him. Each led two horses. I knew these animals; they were the King’s hunters: two mares, two geldings. Deep-chested animals, bred for strength and staying power. Not saddled for hunting today, though. Two wore leading reins, longer straps of leather attached to their halters, and all had bulging traveling packs attached to their saddles. Clearly, we would be traveling some distance. Sheathed blades, bows and quivers hung beside the saddle-bow, so the horses looked strangely like hedgehogs.

  “Is this what you need?” The wind lifted his hair so it hung like a disordered halo about his head.

  “Oh, Daddy!” For a moment I forgot I was sixteen and officially an adult. I ran to him. Awkwardly, he put his arm about me.

  “Are you going to r
ide in that skirt?” asked Mother.

  Such a typical question that I choked on the tears. “I’m wearing hose underneath.”

  She grimaced, as if in pain and felt the wet fabric between finger and thumb. “What have you been doing? Swimming?”

  Alden and Owein emerged from the side door.

  “I don’t agree,” said Alden loudly. “You can’t leave them outside.” He reached for Owein’s shoulder and spun him round. “Look at me while I’m talking to you!”

  Owein waved his hand at the open gate. “The parade ground’s completely full. We can’t fit anyone else into the Castle.”

  “Owein,” I said. “Let them in. Everyone should be behind walls.”

  “Dana!” He put his hands on my shoulders. “You’re soaked!”

  “See,” Alden sounded impatient. “Even Dana agrees with me.”

  I let the “even” go, for N’tombe sighed behind us. Time wore on while we talked. And in a cave on the beach, Will was waiting.

  “Owein,” I said, “there’s room in the pleasure wood. And the inner courtyard; Rosa won’t mind.”

  Mother slipped her arm around my waist and kissed my cheek. She smelt of perfume and sun-warmed silk. “Go well, my daughter.”

  Just as I was about to climb on the horse there was a cry of “Hold!” from a window above, and a head swaddled in cream linen poked out.

  “My Lady!” Nurse fluttered a kerchief at me. “Wait!”

  The latch of the schoolroom window creaked as she opened the pane further. A heavy piece of cloth fell, writhing and twisting in the wind. My cloak! I caught it as it fell, and bundled the heavy wool into a tight parcel, which the groom helped me strap behind the saddle.

  I waved to Nurse, who was leaning so far from the sill that she looked set to tumble after the cloak. “Thank you!”

  She fluttered her kerchief again. In front of all those watching, I unlaced my heavy skirt, stepped out of its wet folds. A groom cupped his hands, helped me into the saddle.

  “You,” I called to the guardsman. Clifford. I’d given him that black eye. “I need some blades.” That sword on the saddle was all very well, but I liked to have more on me than one length of steel. “You know how I fight.”

  He nodded and touched his eye with a grin. “Aye, Princess, I know.” He touched the other guardsman. “Steve?”

  The men quickly unbuckled their daggers, handed the leather sheaths up. With a strange, sidelong look, Clifford rolled up his sleeve, undid the forearm holster and passed that to me.

  “Concealed weapons?” I asked

  “We like the way you fight, Lady,” he said. “We’ve been practicing.”

  “All of you?”

  He nodded, smiling shyly at my tight grin. Maybe there was hope for the Kingdom in these fighters; maybe they would be good enough to defeat the invaders.

  “Do you have any more?” I asked. A girl could never have too many knives.

  With a half-smile he unbuttoned the one on the other wrist. The other guard did the same, passed them to me. I buckled them onto my calves; no one ever died from being over-armed.

  In a clatter of hooves, N’tombe turned her horse.

  I lifted a hand to my parents, and called, “Raise the drawbridge after all the villagers are within.”

  Father nodded. The breeze picked up, cracking the standard above the gates and lifting the skirts of the women. Crows soared in the rising air, calling harshly above the quiet crowd. As we passed under the barbican, I saw the Fire Master clinging like a rangy spider to the stonework as he pinned fireworks to the walls; rockets against the invaders. I waved at him and to Nurse, who had stuck her head from my chamber window, to my family, and to the assorted inhabitants of the Castle who stood at the ramparts calling good wishes down to us, bidding me farewell.

  Trotting down to the outer gatehouse, where guards held back the crowds of carts and workhorses and livestock to let us through, across the drawbridge that swung to the movement of our feet. Along the stone road that led down the mount, its stones dazzlingly bright in the sunshine. I looked back to see the Castle of the Fallen tiered like a wedding cake, rising honey-gold against the blue sky. Flags fluttered at the towers and above the tallest, birds drifted in a dark cloud.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The Return

  Racing against pursuit, Will and Jed had reached the harbor. They’d been lucky – their horses were strong, well-watered, and the weather had been fair. They’d stuck to roads or paths with hard surfaces, leaving little tracks so it would be some time, Will felt, before any pursuers would catch them.

  Jed was not so optimistic. Jed was never optimistic.

  “They can change horses at their damned way-stations,” he said. “They’ll travel twice as fast as us.”

  “Well,” Will shortened his stirrups, “best we travel light, then.”

  Privately, Will wasn’t at all sure there were pursuers. Maybe they’d hidden the bodies of Kasar and his men well enough so they would never be found. Still, as Ma would say, better to be safe than sorry, so cutting and running was the best option.

  The wastes had been empty, save for one surprising meet with Dana. How did she do this? Did she find it disorientating, going to sleep in her bed, waking somewhere else? Not that he was ungrateful, not exactly. But it was disconcerting, not to mention frustrating. She seemed to find it frustrating too, if he was any judge, but it wasn’t as though they could discuss it. She was with him for such a brief time.

  * * *

  Finally, miles from the Stronghold, Will and Jed reached the coast. The sea gleamed in the bright afternoon sun. There was a small town behind them – Will didn’t even know its name – with strong stone walls. The walls extended beyond the town, so it seemed the town was reaching out, embracing the sea. Beyond the breakwater, the sea was choppy with whitecaps, but here, in the harbor, the water was calm.

  Gulls fought over fish scraps and shy, skinny cats rested in the wall’s shade. Jed and Will tied their horses to a convenient post and regarded the boats in front of them with interest. Will munched flat bread, spread with a paste of lentils and garlic. The bread here had a different flavor, but not unpleasant. And flat bread, he thought, would be good for traveling. He could even bake it himself on a campfire, if he had flour.

  The quickest route to the Kingdom was by water. They needed a boat.

  “You planning to hire one?” he asked Jed.

  “I’ll borrow one, lad.”

  “You’ll steal it, won’t you?”

  Jed looked pained. “Borrow, steal? What does it matter? When you’ve finished filling your belly, time for you to go trading.”

  “You want me to sell the horses?”

  “Aye. We’ll need provisions. And for that, we’ll need coin.”

  Will swallowed the last of his bread with regret. Fresh food, after weeks on the run, was a luxury he preferred to savor. “I thought we borrowed the horses too.”

  Jed shrugged. “Borrowed, stolen ...”

  “Be a shame to lose these mounts,” Will said, stroking the small mare’s neck. “They’ve been good to us.”

  “Aye,” Jed shaded his eyes, stared out at the bay. “We caught a stroke of luck all right.”

  That night, Will and Jed crept along the jetty, keeping to the shadows. Jed had bribed the watchman with rum.

  “That one,” Jed pointed to a small skiff. It had one mast and no cabin.

  “You sure?” Will hoped Jed knew what he was doing. Boats were tricky things. Raised in a fishing village, Will had spent enough time on the water to know that sailing a boat as far as the Kingdom was an undertaking requiring skill.

  “Boats and women, lad – never choose on appearance.”

  Jed was a better sailor than Will had given him credit for; it seemed they’d only just cleared the breakwater, silver in the moonlight, when they caught the breeze. The triangular sail cracked, filling with the wind’s power, and Will swung the tiller. The little craft was off, flying t
oward the moon.

  Jed looked troubled. “This is the first full moon since we met your princess.”

  “She’s not my princess.”

  “Well, we seem to be making unusual speed.” Jed added quickly, “Not that I’m complaining.”

  * * *

  The wind remained favorable. The two men took it in turns to sleep, the other keeping watch. It was a miserable journey; there was no shelter on the boat and very little food. Although, perhaps food would not have been pleasant; Will’s stomach did not welcome the constant motion of the boat.

  For the first two days they followed the coastline from a distance, keeping too far off, they hoped, for unfriendly eyes. The next day the fog came. The world became wrapped in white wool; all was still, save for the cracking of the wind against the sails and the slap of the waves against the ship. Once Will thought he heard the call of a bird, but it passed quickly overhead. It was a strange time; three days, three nights of limbo when the world about them did not exist. Once it rained and they filled the buckets.

  “’Taint natural, this fog,” muttered Jed.

  “Maybe we’ll run aground,” said Will hopefully. He would put up with being shipwrecked, if it meant the world would stop moving.

  “I doubt we will, lad. I doubt we will.”

  “You think this is magic?”

  Jed shrugged. “Probably. Smells of it.”

  “It’s from the Kingdom?”

  “Let’s hope so, lad. Rather that than otherwise.”

  Dana! Will thought, in relief. Perhaps she had told the Guardian that they were coming home.

  On the third day, the fog lifted silently, parting like a white wall. The sun was high, the weather fair, the wind strong. And there, in the distance, was the unmistakeable peak of Jenkins Hill. Will shouted, raised a fist into the air.

  “We’re not alone,” Jed said grimly. In the distance was a forest of masts. Red sails, towering above the horizon. Huge, square ships. On the deck, figures in white. Thousands of men. “Seems like we’ve been followed.”