“Not give up on her designs on your throne, my queen.” Ysulte looks up at me intently. “But if we can stop her from banishing you then you at least have a chance to face her in battle. And if you face her, you will win. It is your destiny to rule, after all. She cannot gain victory over destiny itself.”
I nod.
“Okay,” I say. I don’t know what else there is to say, but Ysulte looks at me as though I’ve just burst out into a war cry.
“Good,” she says. “Now, we must work quickly. My sight tells me that Shar is close, that she rides ever closer to this place. If we do not find the codes quickly, then she’ll be here and you will have to face her in a battle that you’re not prepared for. We must find the codes, and destroy them before it’s too late.”
It doesn’t sound like a watertight plan, but it’s all we’ve got at the moment, and frankly I can’t think of anything better right now.
“So how do we find these codes, then?”
Ysulte furrows her brow, thinking deeply. Finally she looks up at me, her eyes narrowing with a slight smile.
“I don’t know, dróttning,” she says, with a twinkle in her eye. “But you do.”
At first I’m taken aback. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be looking for, let alone where I can possibly find it.
And yet… there’s something tugging at the edge of my mind, saying follow me. I close my eyes to listen to that tiny voice better, and in my mind’s eye I can just see something. A little crack, high up in the rock face, where the crows nest. In the crack lies a great stone - black and smooth as a marble - and on the stone is carved… something. A password? I have no idea, and yet I start walking, knowing that if my feet move then my brain might just catch up with them. Ysulte follows me as fast as she can, shuffling on her old-lady legs. I feel bad for dragging her after me. I wonder whether she’s strong enough to even be with me on this quest, but now’s not the time to worry about that.
I keep walking until I come to the foot of a sheer rock face, jet-black and almost smooth, with only the occasional crack or protrusion to break its surface.
“The codes are up there,” I say. Not really to Ysulte, more just acknowledging it to myself.
So what am I going to do about it? I can intuit all I want, trust my instincts till the cows come home, but in my heart I know that the only way that I can get the codes from up there is to climb.
I take my cloak off. The wind bites at my skin, but at least it’s one less thing to drag me down or make me slip. Ysulte is grim-faced.
“The dróttning was raised as a warrior,” is all she says to encourage me. I nod, catching her words and holding them in my mind like a mantra.
You were raised as a warrior. You can do this.
I reach up as high as I can and grasp a little protruding branch that sticks up from the rock face, about six feet from the ground. I test its strength to see if it can hold my weight. I reach up with my other hand and feel around until I can find a crack - just a couple of inches deep. With these two handholds, I put all my weight into my arms and step onto the wall.
At first it’s not so bad. The slope of the rock helps me a little - it’s not completely straight. I climb for maybe five minutes and manage to avoid looking down. I tell myself that it’s going to be fine, that I can manage this. I do all the self-talk that I’ve always managed to do to keep myself running on a treadmill, or holding a downward dog in a yoga class.
Then the rock straightens out and becomes as sheer as a wall. The cracks that my fingers seek out are only an inch or so wide, maybe two inches deep. Mostly I keep my eyes closed, partly because it helps me to focus on my intuition better, helps me to reach into my senses to know where the next handhold is. But it’s also partly just because it means I don’t have to look down.
With every step, every handhold, I go deeper inside myself, into that place that understands deeply and unquestioningly that this land is mine, that this very rock is part of me. It’s my land, I understand it, and I can tame it.
That gets me about a hundred feet in the air. I feel the brush of wind as a crow flies inches from my face. It breaks my concentration, and I make the mistake of looking down.
Ysulte is standing below me, her face turned upwards, but it’s so far below me that it just looks like a little dot. I can’t tell if her eyes are screwed shut in prayer, or if her lips are moving, because she’s too far away.
I feel like there’s nothing between me and the sky but that flapping mess of crows, and I feel my heart shrink in my chest.
I can’t do this.
I’m going to fall.
This is going to be how I die.
With every bit of strength left in me, I make one last reach, and my hand finds a ledge.
I pull myself up. I’m in a crack in the rock face maybe two feet high and five feet deep. The floor of the crack is littered with crows’ feathers and bits of broken shell, and in the far corner lies the stone. The one with the codes all over it. The codes that, if I don’t do something about it, will allow my sister to gain access to her terrible knowledge.
“Ysulte!” I shout. I have no idea if she can hear me, as the wind is so loud and she is so far away. But I keep speaking out loud, as if to tell myself the plan. “Ysulte! I’m going to throw this thing down! Get out of the way!”
I hope that the impact of the fall will crack the thing into a million pieces, but if not then at least it will be down with Ysulte and we can decide the best way to destroy it.
I reach for the stone and pull it towards me. Despite being spherical it’s incredibly difficult to move - so dense and heavy that for a minute I think I’ll have to give up hope. Then, inch by inch, I manage to roll the thing towards me.
“Ysulte!” I call again. “I’m pushing it now! You need to get out of the way!”
With the last bit of strength left in my arms, I roll the thing to the edge of the crack. I realize belatedly that I have no idea how I’m going to get down - my strength is all gone. Maybe I’ll have to lie here all night to rest. It doesn’t matter. If I can stop Shar I’ll have done right by my kingdom, and by my Warriors.
With a great heave I shove the thing over the edge of the cliff.
It seems to fall in slow motion, rolling and bouncing gracefully down the rock face. I don’t know if Ysulte has heard my warning or just figured out my plan, but she’s moved well out of the way.
In the final portion of the fall, the rock begins to curve away from the cliff. I close my eyes, waiting to hear the whole thing smash.
But the sound doesn’t come.
I peer down, lying flat on my stomach to get a better view.
The rock is hovering. Inches from the floor. It has to be.
A prickling at the back of my neck nudges me to look down the valley, and I gasp.
A woman, sitting on a pale horse, is waiting at the other end of the valley.
From the veil of platinum hair I can see at once that it’s Shar.
She raises her hand, and the rock floats up to meet it.
She looks at me, and smiles.
I lie there on the ledge as Shar disappears into the distance. The pain in my spent arms feels like it’s substituting itself for my internal misery.
How had she still won? How does she always win?
I don’t want to move, don’t want to try to get back to Ysulte, don’t want to do anything except screw up my eyes and block out the sound of the crows. I want to go back to my old life, where I might not have been exactly happy but at least I didn’t spend my time lying on the top of godforsaken cliffs, crushed by the weight of defeat.
I can hear Ysulte calling out my name in her cracked voice, but I can’t even bring myself to look over the edge of the cliff to where she is. And the warriors? My Vikings? How the hell do I face them after this. Defeat after defeat. There are only so many times a person can lose before people stop believing in them. Memories of the images that played out in the fire flood my mind and I shut my eye
s tight, hoping to steel myself against the impact of them. The warriors need me, that much they’ve made clear. But even more than that, the people need me. And I can’t help but feel like I’m the one leading them to doom. Like this is all my fault because I’m too naïve, too weak, too stupid to beat Shar.
Dróttning. Dróttning. Dróttning.
That goddamn word again. Exactly what good has that word done me?
I close my eyes, and before I’ve realized what’s happened the fire starts to slip over them again.
***
When I open them I’m back on the dark hill. Ysulte is lying next to me, breathing heavily. She tries to smile when I look over at her.
“It’s much harder to do that when you’re far away,” she explains. “I’m sorry, dróttning, but my magic is almost spent.”
I try to smile reassuringly at her, masking my own sense of hopelessness beneath my sympathy for her. “Don’t worry about it,” I say. The words taste meaningless in my mouth.
What the hell am I going to do now?
“We didn’t stop her,” I say quietly.
“No,” Ysulte agrees, her voice measured. “We didn’t.”
“Another waste of time, then.”
“Not necessarily.” The words are rasping out of her throat in a dry rush. She’s clearly pushed herself to her physical limits and then some. “There is still hope. Do not despair.”
“But we’re back here,” I say despondently. “That means that it didn’t work, right? That means that I haven’t been able to change things even a bit. How can that be okay?”
“You’ll find a way.” Her piercing blue eyes rest on me, and then close again. Her breathing is still shallow. “Have faith in yourself.”
“What if I could warn the Warriors, before Shar ever gets to them?” The idea comes out of nowhere, and the truth is that I know it’s a little selfish. I know that there are hundreds - thousands - more - people who I owe my protection to, that it’s not just about those four Warriors. But somehow the fact of them being forced to serve Shar against their will, against their destiny, seems symbolic of the whole thing. I can’t imagine ever winning against Shar without them at my side.
Besides, I can feel myself longing for them.
It’s a feeling I’ve never really felt before towards a man. And four men? I wouldn’t have ever thought it possible. It’s partly the craving of the sense of physical safety that they gave me, and partly a deep, implacable sense that our bodies should never be too far apart, that it goes against nature to separate us.
Ysulte nods slowly.
“That may be wise, dróttning. The Queen’s Warriors possess a deep and ancient power that can only be rightfully wielded by the true monarch. Without the four of them in her service, Shar would certainly find it harder to consolidate power.”
She lies back onto the hill, her frail body seeming drained of all strength. “I’m sorry to say that I cannot come with you to help.” That feels like a blow to my liver and I suck in air, trying to steady my thoughts.
“Why not?” The question is barely a whisper, but even then, it rings loud and clear. Both the question and the desperation behind it. The idea of going anywhere without Ysulte at my side, without the power of her magic, hasn’t even occurred to me. She has been with me from the beginning, after all.
“My powers are nearly spent,” she says, her breath ragged. “I can summon up enough strength to send one of us, but not both. You must go alone, my queen. I’m so sorry.”
“Maybe you should go,” I venture. The idea doesn’t sound all that bad, but the look on my face is enough to tell me that it’s not an option. Still, I follow through with my sentiments. “Since you’re the one that knows what you’re doing, the one that understands all of this, you’d be a lot more suited than I am. I don’t even know what I would say to the Warriors.”
I imagine myself standing in front of the four of them, without them offering me the unconditional loyalty that they’d shown me so far. I have no idea how that will even feel, much less what I could possibly say to get them on my side. Ysulte smiles faintly.
“I will never be the one to convince them,” she says. “They are proud fighters. They will instinctively obey their queen, but why on this earth should they obey me? No. You’ll have to go alone.”
“But I don’t know what to do,” I say miserably. When they’re in full knowledge of who I am things are easy with them. But when I’ve got to fight tooth and nail to enter their memories, the only thing I see on the horizon is failure. I shouldn’t think that way, of course. I know that. I know it in the depths of my soul, but it still doesn’t stop the thoughts from coming.
“Didn’t that great climb teach you anything, my queen?” Ysulte asks, smiling gently. “You know exactly what needs to be done, if you would only trust yourself to do it. You are a queen and a goddess among our people. The magic of our land flows in your veins, and that magic will be your best guide, far better than anything I can do.”
I listen to her. I want to believe everything she’s saying, to believe that the only thing I need to do is trust myself to figure everything out, but it just feels like such a huge ask. There are so many little voices nibbling at the back of my mind, reminding me that I’m nothing special, that I’m just some stupid, fraudulent, would-be medium.
But then their faces pop into my mind. Shar’s, and Eirik’s, Johan’s, Haki’s and Karsi’s. The idea of Shar taking command over all four of my men feels like too much to bear.
And it’s not just command, after all. I remember what Ysulte said about the warriors serving their queen in every way that it is possible to serve. Was that what was happening with Shar and my men. Was she… close with them? Do they kiss her the way Karsi kissed me. Bring her to a height above the heavens the way Eirik had done to me.
A wave of possessiveness breaks over me. Not them. Not my warriors.
I pull the hood of the light cloak up so that my face is covered, and raise my eyes to the top of the hill where the castle stands. It’s the same castle that I saw so recently - in a different time - who really knows when? But I saw it from the opposite side, the side on the cliff, facing the sea.
From this angle, the castle is a hive of activity, stretching down towards the buzzing town that spills all around it. This was the world, I realized, that was denied to both me and my sister while we were growing up in seclusion. This was our birthright.
I’m standing in the middle of a busy market square. Young men are herding sheep from one enclosure to the next. If weighed, neither the sheep nor the man would put much pressure on the scale. In the markets, small, darkened fruit are being sold, making it clear that there is at least some fertility left in the lands, just not enough to sustain all of the people.
Women hurry back and forth, their long hair caught back in rough braids, the hems of their woven skirts dragging in the mud. They look like they’ve fought a thousand wars and are prepping to fight a thousand more.
It’s a whole world. It’s the home I’ve never had, the place I’d never realized I was always longing for in my heart. A place that should be more colorful and lively than this.
I set off across the market square and up the hill towards the great castle where I grew up, where I should be reigning, where my sister has taken over.
I’m stopped at the main gate.
“What’s your business here?” A woman in a purple cloak is sitting on a bench by the entry way, and she frowns at me is I try to walk in.
“Dressmaker to the princess,” I say. The lie falls effortlessly from my lips, even though I don’t consciously remember having decided to say it.
“Name?”
“Rhea,” I reply. Why not? After all, Shar has successfully stamped out my existence in this timeline. There is no Rhea, there is only the Princess Shar, who will very soon inherit the throne of a king who everyone knows to be dying. A king who is my father. A king who I am forbidden to see while I am here, of fear that it would kill hi
m faster.
The woman nods, and lets me past. Her eyes are lingering on me, but it’s not distrust exactly. I wonder if, like I’m hoping will happen with the warriors, there is some part of her that instinctively recognizes her true queen.
Once I’m inside the castle walls, I head for the armory. My intuition tells me that this is the place where I will find my men - and even if not, I should at least be able to find something to arm myself in case Shar makes trouble. I have no wish to harm my sister, but I’m starting to see that in this strange new world sometimes there’s no choice but to defend yourself.
I reach a courtyard near the armory. Inside, there’s a rough wooden pen built out of street branches, with a light scattering of straw on the floor. All around blacksmiths work, young boys - apprentices, I guess - polish armor, horses stomp, men talk.
Inside the pen itself, two of my men are fighting.
For a moment, my heart stops, before I realize that it’s supposed to be a friendly fight. The other two are leaning against the outside of the pen, shouting advice, jeering, laughing. I recognize the two fighting men as Karsi and Eirik, with the others watching as Haki and Johan.
Not having any of idea of how else I could go about this, I decide the best thing to do is just to walk up to them.
Haki seems to see me from the corner of his eye, and turns to me with a friendly smile.
“Good day, mistress,” he says. “What brings you to our part of the castle?”
I’m caught off guard. I knew they wouldn’t remember me, but the reality of it hadn’t set in until now.
“I’ve been sent to measure the Warriors for new tunics,” I say.
“Future Warriors,” Haki points out. “We’re not the Queen’s Warriors, not yet. Not while the king still lives.” He thumps his closed fist over his heart in what I guess is supposed to be a sign of respect. “And…” he looks at me a little more intently, “Given that the king still lives, isn’t it a little soon for preparations to be made for the new era?”
“Of course,” I say quickly, doing my best to follow on. “But as I’m sure you know, the king’s condition is very grave. My lady the princess has decided to start… preparations. You know.”
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