Defiance

by Patti Larsen

  Obron’s wife, Maelinda, met them at the mouth of the large cavern.

  “Stir up the stew from yestereve, woman, and cut up a fresh loaf!” The smith beamed despite the wretched circumstances. “We have a starving stranger here who just wandered in.”

  “Mother bless me.” The petite woman in plain homespun gripped Ali’s hands. A smile creased the woman’s lined face, blue eyes welcoming, though Ali could feel anxiety radiating from her touch. Being a member of the Order had its benefits. Becoming an object of fear to old friends wasn’t one of them.

  Both Maelinda and Obron had changed. They looked old. Surely, this wasn’t the energetic woman who had her hands in everyone’s business, and who, despite her size, kept Obron in check?

  Ali followed them into the damp cavern, Maelinda limping lightly ahead. Ali kept her eyes forward, ignoring the pitiful sight of the people around her. Sobs and low cries of grief echoed in the dark. She was shown to a rough stone slab next to a small fire and had food thrust before her. Maelinda draped a warm fur over Ali’s shoulders against the chill. With mechanical automation, she devoured the stew and bread, only sipping the watered ale set beside her.

  As she ate, Obron lit his pipe. Rings of smoke rose around him, the hearty smell hovering in the still air. Ali inhaled, mind shying away from her absent parents.

  “These are hard times,” Obron said. “Since the death of High King Amoden, there’s been nothing but trouble brewing. Trade is slow, if it happens at all. Folks go missing on the highways. The useless fool they’ve placed on the throne couldn’t care less from what we’ve been told. Ayah, I suppose he means well with his treaties, but they ain’t helping his subjects. He needs to stop looking past our borders and see to the safety of his own folk.”

  Ali knew it would never happen. This wasn’t the only part of Preval experiencing attacks, though the fact the enemy struck so deep within what should have been the safe confines of the kingdom gave her anxiety she shunted aside before it could take hold. And yet, the High King refused to act time and again, effectively tying the army and the Order to the ground. His new foreign policy took his complete attention.

  Obron went on. “We’d heard of trouble in the lowlands. We never thought it would reach us. Things have been tough, with travel risky and trade scarce, but we’ve been safe enough. They hit us night afore last, no warning or negotiation or even demands. I suppose it was only a matter of time.”

  “Obron,” she said, emotions stilled against the truth. “Where is my father?”

  He refused to look at her. “The night we were attacked, your Da was the only one who kept his wits. He got some of the men together so fast I don’t know how he managed.” Ali did. One of the benefits of the gift was the control of others. “Even fought back a bit. Got me to lead the women and children into the forest while he and the others attacked. Darmus got a couple, took down a horse.” Ali refused to let the rising tide of hurt and grief win. Emnit’s presence clung strong as she listened with forced dispassion. “He fought so bravely, Ali, you need to know.”

  “He was killed.” The quiet in her voice pleased her.

  Obron slumped low on the stone bench. “Ayah. We hadn’t a chance against them. My own Togan…” he choked off, face mottled with pain and rage.

  “Here now, Obron,” Maelinda’s hands fell to his shoulders, “there was nothing anyone could have done.”

  A sad-eyed Togan with the shy smile winked in her memory. He had been her friend, so many years ago. Obron brought himself back under control and continued. “They killed the magistrate and the entire council.” He leaned forward, eyes sad. “I am sorry, lass.”

  Ali felt cold. No pain, no tears. An iron fist settled around her heart. Cold was perfect. “And my mother?”

  “Ayah, your Momma too, was struck down when she tried to get your Da from the flames.”

  The fist tightened. “And Gault?” Her voice was Emnit’s.

  “Lives, if for now. He is fevered and infected with a great sickness.” He sat back again, puffing sadly on his pipe. “We must pick up the pieces of our lives and fit them back together, if we can. But we don’t have a hope if we have no protection.” He watched her through the swirl of smoke rising from pipe and lips. “Will you help us?”

  “I want to see my brother.” She climbed to her feet, the fur sliding from her, to gather in a soft puddle around her boots.

  Lying in a mess, she thought, like my life. How can I tell these people there is nothing I can do?

  ***

  Ali held still as her mentor thrashed her with the flat of his sword.

  You care too much. The length of steel raised burning welts on her back. You weigh yourself down with these feelings for others. You defend them when you should look to your own training.

  They were hurting him. She kept her mental voice calm. Any show of weakness would result in further lashes. He had done nothing wrong.

  The boy needs to learn on his own. Emnit’s blows stopped. He faced her, beads of perspiration rising on his upper lip from the exertion of the thrashing. You must learn to follow orders, Alimeaha.

  He returned to his work as she clung to self-control. The core of her ached for the boy, only six, nearly killed by a pack of older trainees. As she took her punishment, not the first and certainly not the last in those long ten years, Ali held on to the truth and her defiance.

  She had done the right thing.

  ***

  Gault’s eyes were closed, dark hair wreathing his pale skin, clinging in strings to his cheeks and forehead. His chest rose and fell with ragged unevenness, breath harsh gasps. His face appeared gaunt, cheeks and eyes sunken. Ali felt the fist of ice tighten one last time.

  His eyes flickered. They were bloodshot, dark rings enhancing the wasted pits. She sat near his bed, feeling nothing. Emnit would be proud.

  “I… must be… going mad.” Gault’s words were broken things. “Could it be…?” His voice grew stronger as he spoke, the glaze of illness fading from his eyes. “You’ve grown.”

  She took his hand. “It’s me, Gauley.”

  He strained for breath. Ali could only watch. “A Guardian, for real.” His dry lips cracked and bled as they twisted into a grimace. “Do you know how jealous I have been, sister mine?”

  She stayed silent. She wouldn’t have wished it on anyone.

  “You… have heard?” He whispered this time. “About Mother? Father?”

  “Yes,” was all she could say.

  His eyes lit with a gleam of fire. “Kill him,” he rasped, pulling her closer. His breath smelled of his end.

  “Gault?”

  “The… the bastard…” he hissed between clenched teeth. “Their leader. He… killed our parents… it is a wound from his sword… that kills me now.”

  Ali said nothing. Her brother’s eyes burned as though the last spark of him lived there for only that moment. “Swear by our blood you will kill him. Swear!”

  Emnit would not approve.

  “I swear,” she said, wooden, controlled.

  The frantic need in him died as he did. His gaze turned up, his grip on her hand falling away. Reaching forward, she gently closed his eyes.

  ***

  “What will you do, Ali?” Obron’s hand fastened on her shoulder.

  She told him the truth.

  “There is nothing I can do,” she said. “Not officially. The High King has given me orders. I was permitted to come home only because it is on my way. I am to take my place at the border to Vistanesh and assist the garrison commander there.”

  “Then we are lost.” Maelinda’s voice was harsh, face set. “Tell your High King that. His people are dying while he does nothing.”

  She had no idea times had become so desperate. Guardian indeed. Safe and protected within the walls of the Order while her countrymen faced attack. Why had she not shown more interest? Asked more questions when rumors of unrest after the king’s death reached her?

  Because she had been trained
not to ask. Or to care one way or the other.

  “And your oath?” Obron stiffened, pride showing in the set of his shoulders, frustration in his eyes. “What of the promise you made your brother?”

  “A lie to a dying man,” she said, the coldness in her heart serving her well. The smith stepped back, the despair on his face doing nothing to penetrate her shell.

  Without a farewell, not wanting to carry another memory won over her parting shoulder, Ali strode west, away from home.

  She paused at the crest of the hill, unable at last to stop herself from one final gaze over the wreckage below. The warm evening wind stirred her shorn hair, crimson horizon setting it aflame.

  Forgive me, she thought. The lies I tell are for your protection.

  Turning, she strode over the rise, out of the view of the village.

  ***

  Ali watched Emnit toss a lit torch into the pile of kindling. It caught immediately, flames licking outward, fed by fuel. The small squatters settlement was engulfed and erased in less than an hour.

  Ali tried to ignore the displaced peasants who struggled against the guards as all the common folk’s possessions were destroyed.

  These civilians overstepped their bounds. Emnit was as cold as ever. The two of them rarely spoke aloud anymore. It made her touchy to the voices of the squatters.

  I thought it was our job to protect them.

  Emnit was quiet for so long she was surprised when he responded.

  So did I, he said.

  She almost let her surprise show, an event punishable by flogging. She hadn’t been beaten in over a year and didn’t plan to let it happen now. Then why—

  Orders. His mental voice bit with crisp edges, covering that moment of weakness, the flaw in his control. Above all else, we must follow orders.

  And them? What orders are they breaking?

  Defiance is punishable by death, he said. You know this. It is different for them but only marginally so. They keep their lives.

  And if someone were to step in? She tested him, amazed at her own bravery.

  These people would be killed, he said. And the traitor as well.

  Ali only meant it as a prod to his small show of weakness. She instead received her last real lesson from him.

  Obedience was all. Anything else proved fatal.

  ***

  Ali circled around to the village, back to the scene of the fire. It took her trained eyes moments to find the path of the murdering horde.

  A blind child could follow them, she thought as she set out in pursuit. Obviously they don’t care if they are found. They are confident no one comes after them. Who are they?

  Ali ran through the day. The hoof tracks were simple to follow. They covered the road, weaving through a smaller valley. She smelled smoke about midday but ignored it and the column of black rising from the east. Another village, no doubt, but not her problem. She had enough of her own to ponder the long miles of her hunt.

  As the day moved on and the sun descended, she left the road and entered the trees, following at a slower pace. The prints appeared fresher, horse dung only beginning to crust. She knew she was close. The band moved at casual speed, or she would have been forced to run through the night and the next day to catch them. As it was, they made it easy for her.

  When the sliver of the first moon rose above the horizon, she found them. The camp sprawled large, easily twenty men and horses with room and tents for more. They posted no guards and lit a massive fire. Everything about them made her nervous. Why were they so certain they would not be opposed? As one of the soldiers passed before the fire, she noticed the crest on his tunic and felt panic rise in her throat. It paralyzed her, gripped her in powerful hands and squeezed her heart until she saw spots before her eyes.

  ***

  Ali sat on her bunk, reading her orders, her new uniform next to her. She schooled her thoughts and her body to perfect stillness. She had been called to serve, no longer a student but a Guardian at last, the first of her year group to achieve it. Emnit watched her when she was officially greeted before the Order membership, given her rank by Master Arner himself. She had been as careful then, knowing her mentor demanded no less.

  You make me proud. His mind touched hers. He was always testing her. She ignored him.

  But there in the privacy of her room, she allowed the tiny defiant part of her to live and breathe and be excited that she was done. She had been successful in hiding it, obviously, or they never would have let her advance.

  I win.

  As a reward she had the rest of the training cycle to herself. Unaccustomed to idleness, she found herself bored and missing, of all people, Emnit. She knew she could reach him at any moment but refused to raise his wrath because she couldn’t find something to do. He would have no trouble assigning her a task, despite the fact she wasn’t his to command any longer.

  The day stretched out before her, sunny and fair. The cavalry range called. She knew it would be empty. Having it to herself appealed to her. So did having her pick of mounts. Mind made up, she descended to the stables.

  She blinked away the remains of her dilated vision as she left the sunlit yard for the cool dimness of the barn. The place was still, stable hands absent. Ali’s mind processed this while she made her way to the far stall and slipped inside. She ran her hands over the soft, black hide of her favorite horse. He, in turn, nuzzled a chunk of carrot from her palm, greeting her with a soft whicker.

  Perhaps it was the familiar touch of her mentor’s presence that made her freeze. It could have been her well-honed instincts and training. Whatever the cause, Ali found herself holding her breath, a quieting hand on the stallion’s nose. Footfalls and the murmur of voices made her settle further. Not knowing why, she remained where she was and listened.

  The door to the stable creaked closed, deepening the gloom. The horse stamped one foot, looking for more treats. She slipped him one, not daring to use her gift to quiet him. She was relieved she held off when she heard Emnit speak.

  “I am here, as you requested.”

  They stood right beside her. Ali peeked through the uneven slats. Emnit’s back was to her, blocking her view.

  “You know why we’re here.” The stranger’s voice hummed low. Emnit shifted forward, clearing her vision.

  Not a stranger. The crown prince. She knew his face immediately, as he would know hers if revealed. He and Emnit were often together, Ali a constant shadow, but in public. Not hiding in a darkened stable in the heat of the day.

  Havard flickered his blue eyes around the empty barn. The tall, blond heir to the High King’s throne threw off fear. For once, Ali was grateful for her training and felt distain for the uncontrolled emotion.

  “Have you any further word?” Havard began pacing, sweat marking his silk tunic. He looked the part, with his handsome face and wide shoulders, but his subservient attitude with her mentor made Ali feel superior. “I am ready to join the others, but I need allies. Do I count you as such?”

  “As I have said,” Emnit’s voice carried. “We act immediately. The time has come, my prince.”

  Havard’s fear eased. “I hoped you would say so. Your support means success. My men leave at midnight.”

  The prince turned as three guards entered Ali’s slim line of vision. They left without another word. Ali returned her attention to Emnit to find he had already gone.

  She relaxed, heart pounding. She had no idea what they had discussed. The fact it was done in secret concerned her. Was this something she needed to share? But what had she heard? Nothing, really.

  Emnit appeared at the stall door. Ali startled so badly the horse reared beside her.

  “You were never here,” he said. “Nor I. Nor the prince. There are things happening, Alimeaha, that you and I may come to change, even if it means making a path where none exists.” Emnit fell silent. He turned away from her. His rusty voice resumed from the dim quiet. “But only if you trust me.”

  “Of course,”
she said. Automatic, as everything with him.

  He left her there to wonder. As she saddled the stallion, she realized with some surprise he was asking her to trust him. Not the other way around.

  ***

  Ali forced emotions down while the gift squeezed her strength and tried to devour her. She used each technique her mentor taught her, every trick and lesson to still her pounding heart and control the surging feelings threatening her every time her mind tried to process what she had seen.

  The soldier in the camp wore the crest of the crown prince.

  Ali hunched beside a boulder, shielding herself from casual view and debated her next move.

  If they are the prince’s soldiers, she thought, perhaps I am mistaken. Could they be in pursuit of the bandits? No, she wasn’t willing to lie to herself, not now. They are the murderers. But why?

  The only person who could answer that question to her satisfaction waited in that camp. A show of force would only get her killed.

  So, I bluff my way in, she decided. The prince knows my face. Emnit... her heart flipped over. Emnit! She shook from the control it took to hold down her emotions. He can’t be involved.

  What about that meeting? Her mind countered. He is a Guardian, loyal to the Order, she fought back. But not necessarily loyal to the High King, that small voice whispered.

  Ali needed to know.

  No one noticed her until she was approaching the bonfire. Even then she only had three soldiers follow, none of whom tried to stop her. She ignored them. Her real goal stood on the far side of the flames, laughing and drinking something from a silver flask. As she approached, the prince’s smile died, but he didn’t act alarmed. There was only one reason he didn’t think her a threat.

  Emnit, her mind whispered. What have you done?

  Ali came to a halt in front of Havard. The prince nodded to her. She was surprised he offered her that formality.