The Shattering of the Spirit-Sword Brackish 1

by Sam Farren

  Ava gripped Brackish’s shoulders tighter. She opened her mouth, speaking Brackish’s true name, but no sound followed. The emptiness after a lightning strike filled the air. Their surroundings flashed between the past and the present, muddling themselves as the ground cracked beneath Ava and Brackish’s feet, wildflowers growing around their legs.

  Eos squeezed Castelle’s hand. The past poured into the present.

  Think about it! Ava implored. I know you, and I know you don’t have a selfish heart. You didn’t come all this way to live an easy life while there are those you could help all around you.

  Brackish turned her back to Ava. Ava reached out, hand between Brackish’s shoulder blades. The memory faltered. Her hand slipped right through.

  My word is final. We must remember what we escaped from, lest we recreate it, Brackish said.

  And you say you don’t want to rule! Ava scoffed. But your word is law on these foreign shores, is it?

  Brackish froze. The memory stretched to its limits, but she couldn’t leave the moment. The past trickled in, hundreds of years compressed into a handful of stone-shattering seconds. The buildings of Brackish’s past split down the centre, crumbling at the command of fire and cannonballs, and Brackish and Ava stood frozen in the centre, lost to it.

  Dust filled the air. Eos tugged Castelle out of the road, pressing against a building that was quickly becoming a ruin. Castelle gripped Eos’ arm, nails digging in, eyes wide. It was a memory. Nothing more than that. A glimpse of the past playing out like a dream let loose into the waking world.

  Yet she couldn’t raise her voice over the crumbling buildings. She couldn’t ask what was happening, couldn’t move. Not with dust surrounding them and shards of stone falling. Eos moved her hands to Castelle’s shoulders, not letting her run.

  Standing their ground was the best chance they had. Stone rained around them and Eos pulled her close as part of a roof crashed by their feet.

  The earth trembled, and it was over.

  Castelle didn’t dare move. Eos didn’t let go of her.

  Eventually, she remembered to breathe. Her eyes darted around, and though dust filled the air, the ruins were as they’d been before they’d disturbed them.

  “What was that?” Castelle asked. “Gods! We could’ve been crushed. What—how? I thought we were seeing memories, not stepping into the literal past.”

  She’d held the hand of the spirits in Fél. She’d felt Ava’s hand warm on her skin, and people had brushed against her as they’d passed in the street. The sky had changed. Sunlight washed warm across her, though winter was creeping close. The ground had shaken as the buildings crumbled.

  Eos stepped back, wincing.

  “It may not be real, but it is,” she said.

  One of the rocks had grazed her face, leaving more bruise than blood behind.

  “Are you alright?” Castelle asked. “Here, let me… oh, I’m not used to this. I’m the one with a track record of getting hurt. What do you need?”

  “It’s nothing,” Eos said.

  “Are you certain? It looks sore,” Castelle pressed.

  “It is,” Eos agreed. “But I was hit by a loose rock, not a boulder. I will be fine.”

  “If you say so,” Castelle said.

  Eos pulled Brackish from the clearing, closed her eyes, taking in all the sword had to say.

  “She isn’t particularly clear. The memory brought back more than she can contend with. She doesn’t know where to start,” Eos said.

  “Well,” Castelle said, daring to sit on a chunk of wall she was convinced she’d seen tumble across the city. “She could start by explaining what any of it means. I was taught that Ava Greyser led the exodus to Fenroe, that the plan was hers, and that those who came along were loyal followers. Yet she was asking Brackish for permission.”

  Eos sheathed Brackish, arms folded over her chest.

  “You were rarely taught the truth,” Eos pointed out.

  Frowning, Castelle said, “Indeed. If Brackish was the leader, the one who broke free of Nor, then my previous prediction will pan out. Betrayal, of the highest order. It seems to be the root of every problem I encounter.”

  Eos kicked at the loose stones around her feet. The wildflowers had surged back, wrapping around her legs and reaching her knees.

  Castelle couldn’t keep her eyes off the scuff on Eos’ cheek. It was more irritating than fatal, but looked utterly misplaced, amongst her scars. So much had already been carved from Eos. Castelle hadn’t considered some new wound could litter her face.

  Past pain did nothing to protect her from what was to come.

  “What now? I doubt this is the end of Brackish’s journey. There’s no closure here. Just confusion. Where does she want to go next?” Castelle asked.

  Eos fingers pressed to the sword’s hilt.

  She raised her brow.

  “Yarrin.”

  “Yarrin?”

  Surely there were memories tucked away on the smaller islands, hidden on Torrine or Aldam or Lor. The whole archipelago was haunted. There’d be spirits to re-enact what’d happened between Brackish and Ava, so long ago. Only small settlements covered those distant islands. There were no imposing cities, nothing like the heart of Yarrin, where temples stretched towards the sky and Castelle couldn’t do a thing to avoid her cousin.

  “Yarrin,” Eos repeated. “If we head north, we can sail directly to the island.”

  Wonderful. That was what they needed. A clear-cut path to Yarrin with no stops along the way, no obstacles to slow their approach. The spirits around them turned to flashes of dread in the corner of Castelle’s vision, and she dug her elbows into her knees, telling herself not to be ridiculous.

  This was what she’d wanted. What she’d dreamt of for so long.

  “What is it?” Eos asked.

  Weeks ago, Eos would’ve headed off without a word.

  “Nothing,” Castelle said. “Nothing. It’s fine.”

  Forcing herself to her feet, Castelle traced the path they’d taken through the ruins.

  Eos caught up with her, keeping the spirits at bay.

  “It is not nothing. Do you not wish to go to Yarrin? Do you not wish to see Layla?”

  Castelle bit the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to keep moving.

  “I want to see Layla. I want to see her so much that I keep telling myself it isn’t true. She isn’t alive, waiting for me. I can’t let my hopes rise like that, Eos. What am I going to say to her? It’s been so very long, and she will have changed in ways I cannot imagine. She will have done so much for the people of Yarrin, and she’ll have fought for her freedom. All the while, I have been in the temple, stagnating, clinging to the lies I was raised on.”

  “Layla is a good woman,” Eos said. “She would never judge anyone cruelly, least of all her cousin. She understands what you have been through.”

  “How could she not judge me? Up until a few months ago, I was determined to become Queen, to exert my rule over the archipelago,” Castelle said, walking faster, hoisting herself over the low fence. “I would’ve sooner believed every person in Fenroe was suffering without me than consider life might be better for them, now.”

  “Layla has had years to change, to challenge what she was taught,” Eos said, hopping the fence and landing next to Castelle. “You have had mere months, yet you have bridged a wider gulf.”

  Castelle stopped in her tracks, staring at Eos. Between them, a faded sign read WARNING – extermination under progress, by order of HRH Queen Marcella.

  “But look at me, Eos. I haven’t changed. I—I look exactly like Ava Greyser. I thought my mother was doing her utmost to flatter me, but—but it’s the truth. I’m still—I’m still me, Eos. Despite everything I have learnt, I’m still me.”

  Eos tilted her head to the side, dark eyes softening.

  “You do not need to change. You do not need to become someone different,” Eos said. “You are who you’ve always been. You have finally been
given the opportunity to be true to yourself.”

  Castelle’s hands were shaking. Had they stopped, since she’d been taken from the temple? She swallowed the lump in her throat, but she couldn’t speak. She was prepared for scathing remarks that rattled around her head, but she hadn’t braced herself for kindness.

  “But I—I am a Greyser,” she whispered. “Everything they have done, my mother, Queen Ava, all the rulers between them, it is instilled in my blood, and—”

  “You were a child,” Eos reminded her. “You share their blood, not their spirits. You are not responsible for their actions.”

  “But I am the last Greyser. All of this falls upon my shoulders, all they have done. I have to make myself responsible for it, Eos. How else am I to serve my punishment for all that happened? I cannot fix things. The people have done that for themselves, but still, I owe them something, and—”

  Eos lifted both hands. Castelle’s chest rose in relief at the permission to silence herself.

  “You were imprisoned in a temple for more than a decade. If you wish to endure a punishment, you have already done so,” Eos said. “But you do not deserve to suffer for this. Your blood does not have to condemn you.”

  Castelle covered her face with her hands, desperate not to sob.

  “I want to see Layla. I do, I do. I want to see her, Eos. She’s all I have left,” she said, breath staggered. “She’s my family. She’s all I have left, and—she loves me. She still loves me, doesn’t she? She wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to have me rescued, otherwise. Gods. She loves me. Not—not them. She’s my family. She’s all I have left, Eos.”

  “She is. She does,” Eos agreed. “She has spent years putting this into action.”

  Castelle screwed her eyes shut, tears finally escaping.

  “I never got to say goodbye to anyone. To my parents, my siblings, anyone, and I thought—I thought it was the same with Layla. I thought she was just gone,” Castelle said, breath coming easily again. “But she’s alive. She’s alive! I can’t believe I’m not on Yarrin already.”

  Castelle dropped her hands in time to see Eos climbing over the fence, back into the spirits’ territory. Too exhausted to call out, let alone follow her, Castelle stood where she was, hands shoved into her pockets to stop them trembling.

  Eos returned short minutes later, hands full of bluebells that never should’ve bloomed at that time of year. Without a word of explanation, she nodded towards the Torshval that had yet to fall. Castelle trailed behind her, head full of flashes of Layla’s face. It must’ve changed so much, over the last eight years.

  Castelle flinched as the streets grew busy, crowds forming in any open space they could squeeze into. Not a single person sparked with the spirits’ light. The sky was dull, clouds heavy with the promise of rain, but the cracks were nowhere to be seen.

  There was more to the people around her than mere memories, fragmented and scattered across the archipelago. Castelle wanted to grab them all by the shoulders, wanted to ask their names, prematurely emblazing their memory inside her skull.

  They weren’t her people anymore, but that didn’t mean her chest wouldn’t ache to embrace the scope of their lives, all the hurt behind them and the hope ahead.

  Eos led her straight to the castle. She stood in front of the memorial, flowers in hand, and began dividing them into small clusters.

  “Eos?” Castelle asked, fingers grabbing the inside of her pockets.

  “Memorialising your parents would be a slight to all those who died, who suffered under their rule,” Eos said, handing the flowers to Castelle. “But your siblings were children.”

  Tears threatened to rise again, but Castelle took the flowers with steady hands.

  They’d never had graves. If they were thrown upon a pyre, part practicality, part celebration, their ashes would’ve been lost to the wind, everywhere and nowhere. There’d never been anywhere for Castelle to visit, and her memories always led her to the blood on the floor.

  But here was something. Here was a place they could rest, if only in her heart.

  Castelle knelt on the lower step, flowers in her arms.

  Eos had worked them into six strands.

  Marigold, Marcella, Tobias, and Edward. Marigold’s children, too.

  All of them together, laid out in the shadow of the castle they’d been raised in. Laid out before the home they’d loved. To them, the Great Uprising had been but a single dark day in history.

  It may not be right, in the face of all the hurt her family had caused, but her siblings had been safe, until that day in the dining room. They’d been happy, they’d been loved, and they’d never wanted for anything.

  Castelle placed the flowers together, mouthing the words on the memorial.

  They Now Rest With The Gods

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The rain fell in cascades across Caelfal.

  The travellers they passed told them to be careful. If it kept up, the seas would rise and swallow the land. There were a hundred or two stories about islands drowning throughout periods of misfortune, and tales that warned against too much prosperity; if they weren’t careful, the sunken island of Kos would rise from the sea, its population nothing but vengeful spirits.

  Castelle knew no amount of rain could ever be too much. Not for Fenroe. The earth would drink it down, and in the months to come, spring would arrive, lush and green, fields and forests wanting for nothing.

  News had spread across the archipelago, on the lips of those it concerned. The man all were certain would retrieve the Princess was dead, body pulled apart by bears. The spike of fear gave Castelle and Eos the freedom to move without looking over their shoulders every few seconds. The rains thundered upon them, and Castelle convinced herself the worst was behind them.

  Brackish was silent. Castelle hadn’t shared a thought with the sword since the past had unfurled. Brackish whispered nothing to Eos. She either couldn’t or wouldn’t discuss what she’d seen, what the rekindled memories meant to her.

  “How is your leg?” Eos asked, as she did every few hours.

  “Better every day. Worse by evening, though,” Castelle said.

  “You have put a lot of strain on it, after all that happened. If you need to stop, tell me. We will find another cart, sooner or later.”

  The rains had cleared most of the roads for them. They’d found a few merchants braving the weather and paid their way between the towns and villages lining the island, but they’d had no luck, that morning.

  Caelfal was wider than Castelle believed possible. Torshval had been so great, so vast, it ought to have taken up the entirety of the island. After an hour on the road, Castelle could no longer see it on the horizon.

  There were swathes of forest and open plains larger than the city. So much of Caelfal was untouched, and deserved to stay that way.

  “When we were younger, Layla and I once spent an entire summer in the castle grounds. We refused to come in, and had a tent bigger than most houses set up for us,” Castelle said, huffing as the hillside rose. “It’s strange. Layla and Marigold were born in the same year, but I was the one Layla was always closest to. I suppose it’s because Marigold was tied up in royal business from the moment she could speak. Either way, when I was very young, I had trouble differentiating between my siblings and my cousin.

  “My mother said I’d start crying, whenever Layla had to return to her chambers on the other side of the castle. Well, never mind that. The point is, Layla and I spent the entire summer outside, making something wild of the castle grounds. We ignored the guards and the gates, the tall fence running the perimeter. We climbed trees, leapt over rocks, fell in the lake more than once—that sort of thing. It seems absurd to think of it, now.

  “I used to be in such good physical condition, Eos. And now look at me! I have a stitch, breathing is suddenly the only thing I can focus on, and I’m fairly certain I’ve turned red.”

  The bags hanging from Eos’ back didn’t do a singl
e thing to slow her down.

  “You spent twelve years sitting in a temple. You have come a long way since then,” Eos said.

  “Imagine if I hadn’t broken my leg. What’s your secret, then? How long until I’m as nonplussed as you are by this all?”

  “I am Yrician. I am used to moving around.”

  “Yes. And once we reach Layla’s temple, I’m sure you’ll go back to moving around, won’t you?” Castelle said, not giving Eos time to answer. “What is it? Some sort of compulsion?”

  Eos stopped a few feet ahead, letting Castelle catch up. The moment she was by her side, Eos set off, thinking nothing of the mud caked to her boots.

  “I would not call it a compulsion. I would not ascribe anything negative to it. I have remained settled, for stretches of time. I have lived in houses and not wandered further than neighbouring villages,” Eos said. “But living like this is how I am most comfortable. That’s all there is to it.”

  “Even in the rain?”

  “Even in the rain.”

  Castelle adjusted her hood and carried on uphill. The rain was far more tolerable with short hair, but Eos had no problems with her hood down, rain rushing across her face, sticking to her forehead, her neck.

  The merciful ground flattened out, leaving only thick mud to contend with.

  “Is that why you and Reed aren’t together?” Castelle asked.

  Eos furrowed her brow, hoping she’d misheard the question.

  “Because of your nomadic nature, that is,” Castelle said, wishing she hadn’t said anything. “Not that I’m suggesting it’s your fault. Simply that you weren’t compatible in certain ways. After all, Reed seems happy where she is, doing what she does. It’s important for a village to have their doctor, and—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “It is fine,” Eos said, if only to stop her talking. “That is not why. Reed was never troubled by my comings and goings. She knew I would always return.”