The Warrior's Curse

by Jennifer A. Nielsen

  And unlucky, for I was still in this confined place with a swollen ankle that would not support my weight.

  I did feel a little better when my eyes opened, though I wasn’t nearly strong enough to face Joth again, which I would have to do soon. With every passing minute, his hold on the kingdom deepened. For all I knew, I was already too late.

  Panic began to rise in me, worse than before, creating a cycle I could not break: My desperate need to leave the tunnel was sapping the very strength I had to leave this horrid place.

  I wanted to sleep again, to escape into empty dreams if nothing else offered me respite. But in the darkened room, I heard footsteps. Maybe that was what had awakened me before.

  I looked up at a faint light that entered the tunnel and saw Harlyn standing over me with a clearstone in one hand. Her disk bow was armed and within easy reach if she decided to use it, but it was not aimed at me, not yet.

  “For once, when you go away, will you please consider staying away?” I asked.

  “You must make me understand,” she said, setting the clearstone in a sconce. “Why did you let me live back in the throne room?”

  “A moment of insanity.”

  “And then here, why did you save me again?”

  I turned my head away from her, but she would not give in to my silence. Crouching beside me, she said, “I know what Endrick did to you before you killed him, I saw what happened as the corruption entered. You should want to kill me.”

  “I do.” More than usual, at the present moment.

  “But you saved me instead. Tell me why. I need to understand this, Kestra!”

  “I don’t even understand it, all right? I just know …” I took a breath, trying to calm myself. “I have to stop Joth, because no one else can do it. If I win, I will take the throne again. But …” I hardly dared to say the rest, especially with Harlyn studying my every move, ready to shoot that disk if I twitched the wrong way. But I had to say it. “Harlyn, I know there is a chance I won’t win. If I die, then the fight against Joth must continue. At the end of it, you must take the throne in my place.”

  Silence followed, so long that I wasn’t sure she had heard me. Then she said, “Why would you want me on the throne? You hate me.”

  Behind me, where I had accidentally collapsed the tunnel, pebbles fell from the tunnel ceiling, as they had occasionally done for hours. I wrapped my arms around my body until everything was quiet, then said, “Whatever I think of you, I also know that the people will follow you, and they should. You’re a good person. No corruption. And Simon will be at your side.”

  I was so tired by then, I was only mumbling. I knew that Harlyn sat beside me, putting an arm around my shoulders while whispering assurances that there was nothing to be afraid of down here in the tunnels. How very wrong she was.

  Harlyn continued talking, asking questions that I’m sure she suspected I would never answer in any other circumstances. We talked of magic and the throne, and of Joth and Simon and Trina and Loelle. We spoke of other things too, though in my exhaustion, I had no idea what I might have said.

  Finally, I nodded off to sleep, the last words in my head being Harlyn’s promise to stay and keep watch over me.

  At least for now, I was safe.

  I awoke sometime later, filled with the magic I had thought might be lost forever, and fully recovered of every hard feeling that Joth had numbed when he had robbed me of strength. My ankle was so completely healed that I wondered if I had imagined it being injured before.

  When I warmed the clearstone, I saw Harlyn asleep in a corner of this small tunnel room. Her disk bow was slung over one shoulder and her hand was on her sword, sheathed at her waist. Unfortunately, I had not imagined any of this.

  What a fool she was, to have let herself become so unguarded, so vulnerable. It showed a lack of respect, as if I were no threat to her. Maybe last night, when I’d been empty and lost, I had not been any more dangerous than a mouse or a biting fly, but that was different now.

  Silently, I reached out to my Ironheart soldiers, instructing them to find me here in the tunnels. I promised that if they remained loyal until my final battle against Joth, I would free them, either in my last breath of life or as my first act as the established queen.

  And I sensed their response. Every Ironheart still in Highwyn heard my call. The test would be how many of them obeyed. For their own sakes, they had better be competing for who would be the first to reach me.

  As I waited, I searched within me to understand what abilities of Endrick’s were mine now. There were so many powers I didn’t understand, or powers that felt colder than I dared to explore. Endrick seemed to have a fascination with life: its creation, destruction, and eternal preservation. One day, I would know all that he knew.

  Every day after that, I would surpass all that he could do.

  But for now, I simply needed the power to make a person sleep. Harlyn had barely stirred, and that’s how I wanted her to remain. Now it was simple to take the dagger from her boot, the sword from her waist, her bow, and the satchel at her side containing two disks, the black one she had already threatened me with, and a white disk that would separate the target’s soul from their body. The eternal punishment.

  I smiled as I placed her satchel over my shoulder. This may have been the first kind thing I could say about Harlyn: that the black disk she had threatened me with was far better than the alternative. One day, I would have to thank her for that, probably a few minutes before executing her for treason.

  Once I had disarmed her, I tried to recall the conversation we’d had shortly before I fell asleep. I’d said more than I intended to, I knew that. I vaguely remembered that I had offered her the throne.

  Why had I done that? Searching within myself again for the motive, I realized that Joth had not only drained my strength, he had pulled most of my magic away from me, which surely included the corruption. It would have left me vulnerable to emotions that the corruption suppressed, of pity, mercy, justice—qualities that were fine for commoners, but which made a queen vulnerable.

  Our conversation hadn’t ended there, I was sure of that. I believed we’d talked about Simon, and it seemed that she had let it slip how much she loved him. Or maybe I had said those words. I hoped it wasn’t me.

  I especially hoped it wasn’t she who said them.

  Minutes later, an Ironheart rounded the corner. He was roughly Darrow’s age, with a similar build, and a long beard and rags for clothes. He went to one knee for me. “My queen. My name is Lore and I am at your service.”

  “You are the only one to come?”

  He rose up. “There is one more, not far behind me.”

  I rolled my eyes. A glorious punishment was coming for all Ironhearts who had ignored my orders, but I wanted plenty of magic saved up for that event. For now, I needed that magic elsewhere.

  Lore stood, accidentally bumping a foot against Harlyn’s leg. She sat up with a start, alarmed to see we were not alone. She reached for her sword, then saw it at my waist, along with every other weapon that had been hers not ten minutes ago. Sensing how vulnerable she was, Harlyn glanced down, hoping to be ignored. I was happy to do that.

  Lore asked, “What are your orders, my queen?”

  “Can you get me out of this tunnel?”

  “If you’re going after Joth, I want to come too.” Harlyn’s eye was fixed on her disk bow, slung over my shoulder. I hoped she didn’t attempt to take it, because that would force me to defend myself.

  I shook my head. “You will not come. Other than the kind gift of your weapons, you are of no use to me any longer.” She had started to her feet, but with a wave of my hand, she fell to the ground and there she would stay. “We are not friends, Harlyn, and anything I might have said last night no longer matters.”

  “Anything you might have said?” Harlyn’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, you don’t remember what you said, do you? Well, believe me when I say that it matters a great deal.”

&nbs
p; I began searching my recovered powers for a way to make her regret her insolence, but was startled by the approach of the second Ironheart.

  “My lady, I came as fast as I could.”

  “Address me as your queen,” I demanded, then stopped once I saw Rosaleen standing before me. Simon’s sister.

  Now behind me, Harlyn breathed out her name. Rosaleen glanced at Harlyn briefly before her eyes returned to me.

  “My queen,” Rosaleen said obediently.

  “Do you know who I am?” I asked.

  “Kestra Dallisor, Queen of Antora.”

  “What else?”

  Rosaleen’s eyes misted. “You were the Infidante. I used to fight for you.”

  “Do you still?”

  With a brief glance at Lore and then at Harlyn, she said, “I am an Ironheart, my queen. I must fight for you.”

  Her answer told me more than I wished it did. Rosaleen was not here by choice, but at least she was here. If this was my only way to get an army, it’s where I would begin.

  I said to Lore, “Lead me out of here.”

  He went first and I followed, with Rosaleen behind us. Recalling the way she had taken aim at me outside All Spirits Forest, I eventually told her to walk at my side. Even if she was calling me her queen, I felt safer being able to see her.

  “Why did the two of you come for me?” I asked.

  Lore glanced back long enough to say, “How should we answer such a question, my queen? With what you want to hear, or the truth?”

  “I want to hear the truth.”

  “The truth is what the ruler of the Scarlet Throne declares it to be.”

  “Enough bantering of words!” I said as we continued to trudge forward. “Why did you come for me in these tunnels?”

  Rosaleen said, “I saw what happened to your former handmaiden when her heart was crushed. I prefer to avoid that fate.”

  I started to tell her that, for Simon’s sake, I was hoping to avoid crushing her heart. But I didn’t say it. That hardly seemed like the right choice of words while I still needed her help.

  In a softer tone, I asked, “If Endrick’s magic could stop a heart, could it start one beating again?”

  No one answered at first; then after we rounded another bend, Lore said, “He did that for your father once. For Sir Henry.”

  I paused. “When?” I’d never heard of such a thing.

  “While you were … missing from the kingdom, two or three years ago, there was a Corack uprising. Their captain, a man who goes by the name of Tenger, managed to stab your father straight through the heart. He was dead, my lady. I saw it myself, and with such a wound, how could he be otherwise? But the next morning, Sir Henry stood in front of us all, alive and well, ordering punishments on everyone he felt had failed to protect him during that battle. Nothing could have healed him except Lord Endrick’s magic.”

  By then, a ladder leading to the tunnel’s exit had become visible. Lore went up first, to ensure the area was secure. I turned to Rosaleen. “Simon is your brother.”

  Something flickered in her eyes, fear perhaps, but she quickly took control of it. “We had a mother too, once. If you intend to kill my brother as well, then I beg you to crush my heart now.”

  The person I had once been would have been hurt by her accusation, but I felt nothing now, cared nothing for a death I had not caused and could not have prevented. Or at least, I was trying to feel nothing. With no words in my mind for a response, I merely stared at her before I silently climbed the ladder out of the tunnels. A minute later, Rosaleen followed.

  Once safely on the surface, I said to them, “Will you serve me by choice? Not because of any threat to your lives but because you believe in me as your queen. Will you stay and help me see this through to the end?”

  Silence followed as Lore and Rosaleen looked at each other, neither wanting to be the first to speak, but both of them clearly with something they wanted to say.

  “Are you so afraid of me?” I finally asked.

  Their eyes lowered, giving me their answer.

  “I am not Lord Endrick,” I said to them.

  “You have his magic, and there is an echo of his voice when you speak, my lady,” Lore said.

  Prove him right.

  The words entered my mind so forcefully, it was as though they came from somewhere beyond myself. And yet they had been my thoughts, my instincts. My own desires.

  I said again, “Will you serve me by choice?”

  More silence, then Lore stepped forward, his head lowered as if expecting the worst. “What happens if we refuse?”

  My mind raced with possibilities, with everything I wanted to say, every threat to force them to bend to my will. With a clench of my fist, I could make them obey, or simpler still, with a single touch, I could take their strength to myself and enter the throne room as strong as all of them put together. I didn’t need them to serve me. I only needed their strength.

  It was easy to reach out my hand toward this bold man who had dared to question me, and far more difficult to pull it back. But I had to do it.

  Because something had changed in me last night. Separated from my corruption for a few hours, I had a brief glimpse of who I had been, and who I now was. I missed the girl I had been once: Reckless and arrogant and deeply flawed, but still at my core, I had thought myself to be a good person. I wanted to hold on to that Kestra for as long as I could.

  So I said, “If you choose not to follow me, then you can walk away now, as free Antorans. But I ask you to consider who now sits on the Scarlet Throne. If we allow Joth Tarquin to remain there, what will your future be?”

  “What is my future now?” Lore asked. “My brother was among the Ironhearts you attacked as they marched into Highwyn. You gave the Ironhearts there the same promise you’re offering now. Then you and the boy who now sits on the throne killed them all. I don’t know what will happen once I walk away, but I will walk away. I can serve corruption no longer, not you or Joth Tarquin, or Lord Endrick himself. Indeed, my lady, I don’t think there is any difference between any of you.”

  Unprepared for that accusation, I recoiled. Had he slapped me he could not have hurt me more. By the time I looked up, only Rosaleen remained.

  “You can go too,” I told her. “I want you to go. Your brother is desperate to see you.”

  “I vowed to serve the Infidante,” she said. “If she is still there inside you—”

  “She’s not.” I withdrew Harlyn’s sword. “I am releasing you as an Ironheart, but as your queen, I have one order that you must fulfill. Find my father, Darrow. Ask him to find me, wherever I am. I do not know if he will come, but he is the only one who would. Then go to your brother.”

  Rosaleen nodded and gave me a polite bow before she ran in one direction while I began marching toward the throne room, ready for revenge. Surely in his paranoia, Joth had not left that room all night.

  And if there was a price for my victory, Joth Tarquin would dearly pay it.

  Early the following morning, all the soldiers who had fought with us returned to Woodcourt to regroup. I was out there with them as each group arrived, exhausted, often wounded, and diminished in spirit. I was little better.

  First to arrive were the Brill, with only half their original numbers. Reports had already come in of how the last of Endrick’s Dominion had targeted them with the carnoxen. The Brill’s eventual victory had come at a terrible price.

  The effects of the loss were evident in Imri Stout’s face. The Brill were notoriously proud of their beauty, but dark bags hung beneath her reddened eyes now, which appeared to have little life left in them.

  “Our country has lost so very much,” she said. “We should have licked our wounds and remained in Brill, rather than come here.”

  “I hope you will stay and help us,” I said, “though I understand if you choose to leave.”

  “The Brill never leave in defeat,” she said. “We will see this battle through to the end, and leave victoriou
s or we will not leave at all.”

  I nodded at her, with deep respect for the honor she showed us.

  But the way Imri responded left me confused as to whether she felt the same respect for me. “Word is spreading among my people that you have challenged Joth to a duel for the throne.”

  I arched a brow. “How did you hear that?”

  “The restored Navan who still remain loyal to him have been sent throughout Highwyn as criers, commanding everyone within the sound of their voice to be at the palace courtyard at noon today, to see you kneel in recognition of him as king.”

  I clicked my tongue and felt my hand curl into a fist. He would not have ordered such a thing unless he was certain of a victory.

  “We can offer you our technologies,” Imri said. “The Brill have abilities nearly equal to some of what Endrick was once able to do.”

  “We agreed there would be no magic,” I said, quickly adding, “Which means no imitation of magic either. The people must see a fair fight between us.”

  “And you believe Joth will follow through on that?”

  “No.” I had challenged Joth as a lure to draw him out of the throne room. Either by intention or desperation, he would cheat, which I’d hoped would turn the entire population against him. Then I would order a mass attack, one he would not be able to counter.

  That had been the plan, until only a handful of his Navan had left me on the floor, so helpless that I’d needed rescuing by Joth’s mother, a fact that stung more than I wished to admit. There was a chance that the coming duel, now only hours away, would end the same. It was likely that I would lose in front of a crowd of onlookers who believed Joth had legitimately earned his victory.

  Imri left in one direction while Basil and Trina entered Woodcourt’s grounds from another, with Gabe and Huge not far behind. Gabe briefly locked eyes with me, then shook his head and moved on toward the stables. That was fine with me. I walked over to Basil and Trina instead.

  Trina nudged me. “He’s been your best friend for years! Get over there and talk to him.”