by S E Meliers
She tried to scream, to protest, to plead, but the darkness was closing in. Her last thought was that he was still within her, softening, his seed running down her leg, as he strangled her.
Cedar
Cedar followed the carriage tracks into the forest. It was not far from the road that he found it, lodged like a shipwreck amongst the green foliage. The horses were still hitched, grazing sedately on the luscious grass. ‘Please let me not be too late,’ Cedar prayed to whatever god would hear him as he dismounted and threw the reins of his horse over a low tree branch to hold it ready for him. He approached the carriage door with a deepening dread. It was quiet within.
He jumped onto the step, and pushed through the broken door.
‘What the fvccant are you doing?’ he exploded. Charity was bent over his wife, his fingers tight against her throat. She hung limp in his grasp, face pale and still. ‘You have killed her you stupid fool,’ Cedar struck Charity with his full strength, sending the unprepared Lord reeling against the opposite seat and setting the carriage to shaking. Charity gazed at him numbly, blood running down his chin from a lip split by the force of Cedar’s blow. His trousers were untied, exposing him and his recent activity. ‘Get the fvccant out of here,’ Cedar was enraged and nauseous. He seized Charity and shoved him out of the carriage. The displaced Lord of Amori offered no defence and simply fell, sprawling, into the undergrowth.
Patience lay like a broken doll against the seat, her skirts pushed up so he could see blood and semen on her pale thighs. He felt ill. ‘Poor wretch,’ he tugged her skirts down. A little dignity in death was all he could do for her. He had been too late, despite his best efforts. ‘May the gods be kind to you.’ He jumped from the carriage, disturbed by the violent death within.
‘Get up and put yourself away you pathetic piece of shit,’ he snarled at Charity. ‘Pursuit will not be far behind: we have to get out of here swiftly.’ He unhitched his horse and mounted. Charity fixed his trousers and mounted behind him with the autonomous obedient movements of someone deep in shock. Cedar guided the horse deeper into the forest.
‘I killed her,’ Charity whispered after a long time had passed in which Cedar seethed and listened for pursuit.
‘That you did,’ Cedar stiffened catching another sound in the undergrowth. ‘We are being followed.’
‘I killed her,’ Charity mumbled.
‘Shut the fvccant up,’ Cedar ground out between his teeth.
‘It was the only honourable thing to do,’ Charity continued regardless.
‘How the fvccant is it honourable to rape and strangle your wife?’ Cedar demanded in disgust. ‘No, do not answer. Shut the fvccant up or they will hear us.’ They rode on in silence for a while before Cedar spotted a hollow tree that would serve their purpose. ‘Get down,’ he stopped the horse. Charity dismounted obediently.
Cedar slapped the horse’s hind, sending it skittering off through the undergrowth. ‘The horse will lay a false trail leading them away,’ he told Charity. The tree was a great, great grandmother who had been hollowed out by rot and time, leaving just a shell standing. Cedar ducked under the low opening and checked to make sure nothing too nasty lived in the dark before squatting within. ‘Get in,’ he growled up at Charity. ‘There’s room enough if you huddle small. Stay back from the opening so you are not seen.’
Charity obeyed gingerly, uneasy with the mellow rot of the old shell.
It was not comfortable, the tight space giving a feeling of vulnerability to attack. The Shoethalians could simply spit them through the opening in the tree if they found them. They would be helpless to retaliate, pinioned by their own hiding hole. The pose required to fit two large men in such a small space set Cedar’s thighs to aching, and he could see Charity trembling, bracing himself against the fragile shell of the tree.
After a few minutes, there was a scuffling in the undergrowth, and several mounted and unmounted men entered Cedar’s sight. They were tracking the horse, and did not think to see if they had abandoned it, so swiftly left the area near their hideaway. Cedar breathed easily again as he eased from the hollow. ‘Come on,’ he said quietly to Charity.
Charity was starting to recover from his shock. His eyes had lost their glazed look. He was thoughtful and shaky now as he followed Cedar through the undergrowth. They climbed a hill which gave them view down to the road below. Patience’s carriage had been rescued from the undergrowth and now moved sedately towards Truen, surrounded by a large force of armed men. They were moving very slowly. Was the pace out of respect for the dead? Cedar wondered. She had his niece or nephew in her womb, he realised with an uneasy feeling, a second niece or nephew to die within its mother. He felt sorrow for his brother, and wondered if Cinder would feel this loss as keenly as the first.
‘She betrayed me,’ Charity said hollowly, tracking the carriage with his eyes. ‘She betrayed our goddess; our people; my children. The only honourable way out for her was death.’
‘You were dead.’ Cedar spat on the ground; the taste in his mouth foul from the deeds of the day. ‘Lost from a cliff; no body to be found. She was trapped amongst the enemy, a prisoner. Her life and her children’s lives at risk. What choice did she have but to do as they wished? Did you ever think of that? Is that betrayal? Perhaps she saw it as holding faith with you by saving the last of your line; your heirs, your children.’
Charity sat heavily on the ground and grasped his hair in his hands. ‘Do you think so?’ he asked, bereft and bewildered. ‘Do you truly think so? Could I have been so mistaken? She said she loved me. Do you think she spoke the truth? Did she love me as I loved her?’
‘You stupid fool,’ Cedar shook his head aghast. ‘You have left your children to all extents and purposes orphaned and in the enemy’s hands. What value do they have now? That poor woman,’ he was repulsed by the man before him. ‘She loved you, and you raped and killed her.’
‘I did,’ Charity buried his face in his hands despairingly. ‘I kissed her, and told her that I loved her as I choked the life from her.’ He turned suddenly and vomited violently, holding himself up on one arm as he retched. Cedar felt no sympathy for all his apparent distress.
‘You are a coward,’ Cedar closed his eyes against the waste of it all. ‘A coward and a fool.’ He turned and walked away.
Shade
He had a fleeting moment of panic when he saw Song tumble from the carriage in a flurry of skirts and madness. Although her mystical nature afforded her much protection, she was just as vulnerable to a sharp blade or a cruel blow as any person. Sorrow was swift in her mistress’s defence and Song quickly rallied. Between them, they tore into the Rhyndelian man like wild creatures, ripping great swathes of flesh from his bones until he crumbled beneath them from trauma and blood-loss. Shade, wisely he thought, gave the women wide berth until their bloodlust settled into something approaching sanity.
The Hallow was a fearsome warrior, seeming to be everywhere at once. At one stage their paths intercepted and she bellowed for him to see to Patience. Shade grimaced; as if he were not already trying to do just that. The troublesome thing about battles was that the enemy had plans that ran in opposition to his own. Just as he managed to gain the upper hand and a couple of bodies to animate and bolster their forces, the carriage took off, carrying the Lady Patience away with it.
He saw a flash of movement, and an arrow thudded into the Hallow knocking her off her feet. She landed badly and for a moment did not move. He followed the path of the arrow with his eyes into a tree not far from the battle site and frowned, spotting a familiar face amongst the branches. One of Calico’s wanderers, Prairie, pressed a finger to her lips, urging him to silence, slipped down from her branch and disappeared into the undergrowth so swiftly that he wondered if he had not dreamt her presence. But there was the Hallow tearing the arrow from her flesh with inhuman stoicism.
His un-dead now outnumbered the Rhyndelian soldiers, and realising it, the remainder of the attack party surrendered their
weapons. ‘We need a horse,’ he said to Sorrow, ‘with which to pursue the Lady Patience’s carriage.’ The un-dead would hold their prisoners whilst he pursued more immediate concerns.
Sorrow stared at him without comprehension, her mind still feral with battle-rage.
‘Go get a fvccanting horse for me,’ he gave her a shove in the direction where several horses milled riderless on the edge of the forest. The Hallow had fallen and the EAerymen were frantically trying to stop the bleeding from her shoulder with a crude bandage. He was about to offer aid when he felt the tell-tale rumble of horses hooves through the soles of his feet and looking up saw a large force bearing down on them. ‘Riders approach,’ he called out in warning to the EAerymen before seeing a now familiar sight. ‘The Shoethalian flag,’ he was amused that the approach of Prince Cinder’s emblem was a blessing for this battle where, not so long ago in Lyendar, he would have seen its approach with unease. ‘It is the Prince,’ he added redundantly as Cinder swooped down upon them, sword already in hand.
‘Spider!’ the Prince cried with concern seeing the felled Hallow.
‘There is no time, my Prince,’ the fair EAeryman stalled him. ‘You must ride swift: the Lady Patience’s carriage bolted driverless along the road with Rhyndelians in pursuit.’
Cinder roared and kneed his horse into a gallop, tearing off down the road with his company on his heels, kicking up a dust cloud that momentarily blinded Shade. ‘Your horse,’ Sorrow appeared at his side with a wild-eyed creature that vaguely matched that description.
‘Quick, Song,’ he mounted, eyes streaming from the dust, holding out his hand blindly knowing that she was close by. He felt her hand clasp his own and pulled her onto the horse behind him, kicking it into a skittering gallop after the Prince’s company. He leaned low over its neck, willing it to go faster still. He could see Calico all over this event, and cursed her for not forewarning him of what was to pass here.
The Prince’s trackers led the company into the forest, and Shade followed in their wake, allowing his horse to take a slower pace over the uneven ground. Cinder and his two guards reached the carriage first, and his roar of fury and sorrow reached over the noise of the armour and men in his company. Faces paled and turned grim as the Prince stepped from the carriage with Patience in his arms. His face was fearsome in its fury. ‘She breathes,’ he announced. ‘But she is wounded. Get the bastards.’ A large number of men peeled off from the group, moving into the forest.
Cinder laid Patience on the open ground, chaffing her hands between his own. ‘Is there a healer? Send to Truen for a healer. Come, Patience, please wake…’
Song squeezed Shade’s ribs and indicated she wished to dismount. He slid down and lifted her from the horse. She sank to her knees beside the unconscious Lady and reached past Cinder to loosen the bodice of her gown.
‘Who are you?’ Cinder demanded of her, staying her hands with his own. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Song merely makes her more comfortable,’ Shade assured him, joining them on the ground. ‘We serve the Lady Patience.’
The Prince’s eyes narrowed. ‘I have seen you before,’ he said. ‘I cannot place where…’ Patience moaned, drawing his attention. Shade blew out his breath and rolled his eyes at Song in relief. Now was not the time to reacquaint himself with Prince Cinder, their last meeting being on opposite sides of the battlefield in Lyendar.
Patience opened her eyes. ‘Charity,’ she said hoarsely.
‘Not the best conversation starter,’ Shade muttered to Song.
‘Patience, are you in pain?’ Cinder leaned over her attentively.
The Lady groaned and cleared her throat with obvious discomfort. ‘Charity…’ she repeated, and coughed. ‘… Water...’
‘Get me a water skin,’ Cinder bellowed over his shoulder. One of his soldiers hastened forward. Cinder lifted Patience carefully into recline against his chest and held the skin to her lips. She drank, swallowing with difficulty and almost choking on the first mouthful. The effort seemed to exhaust her and her eyes fluttered closed. ‘Stay with me, Patience,’ Cinder urged quietly, his lips against her ear.
Her eyes opened again and she frowned at Shade who was in her direct line of sight. ‘Charity,’ she said insistently. ‘Strangled me.’ She had, Shade thought, the baffled expression of a kicked puppy.
‘Charity is dead,’ Cinder’s brows pinched together over the bridge of his nose. She shook her head ever so slightly; then again slowly and carefully, wincing as it pulled the sore flesh of her throat. ‘Is he not? That would explain the lack of body,’ he murmured to himself.
‘As suspected, the man is not as dead as he is reputed to be,’ Shade muttered to Song.
Cinder’s eyes narrowed as he rethought Patience’s statement. ‘Charity strangled you?’ he asked her. She nodded, crying from the pain of her bruised throat or the shock of her attempted murder by her husband. ‘Damn,’ Cinder was eloquent. ‘I am sorry, Patience.’
‘He must have been interrupted,’ Shade commented, ‘before he could complete his mission.’
‘Thankfully,’ Cinder stroked Patience’s hair back from her face. ‘The babe?’ he asked her, anxiously. She moved his hand to her belly and he started as it moved beneath his palm and then grinned. ‘Strong,’ he said with approval. ‘I thank the Monad that the wretch Charity was foiled in his plans to murder my Lady Patience, and with her my heir,’ he said louder, so his gathered company could hear.
‘Is the carriage any good?’ Shade wondered. ‘Mayhap rather than send to Truen for a healer, we should take the Lady to Truen. She has had a shock, and no doubt her throat is badly bruised. She would be much better for the comforts which Truen can afford.’
‘That is true,’ Cinder decided. ‘They have just catered to the deliverance of their own heir; they should be well practiced at catering to the expectant. Check the carriage over,’ he said in an aside to his stone-faced personal guard who watched over the Prince vigilantly. ‘And have it brought over. I will ride with the Lady, and her servants.’ This last, Shade realised bemused, indicated himself and Song. He shrugged, a carriage ride was worth the misconception; considering the day he had had.
He just hoped Cinder did not place his face before the Lady recovered her voice sufficiently to defend him.
Praise
‘Would you care for some juice?’ Praise asked as Calico joined them.
Around them, the great hall surged with activity. It was a market day, and traders from across the seas brought their wares to the trestle tables here for sale to the Dveygar. Allowing the innermost corridor for traders, the seating alcoves now lined the walls, served by the food and beverage traders. Ember and Praise reclined on heavily cushioned, carved couches, around a petite table, on top of which a dainty glass carafe and three glass chalices broke the glow from the candelabras into rainbow shards.
Calico sat herself on a third couch, her contained posture in contrast to the relaxed sprawl of the dragon pair. ‘I am not used to being anticipated,’ she said with a smile that did not reach her eyes. ‘It is a pleasure to meet you, Ember Dragon,’ she inclined her head towards the red haired male.
‘As it is you,’ he replied indolently. ‘I have long been intrigued by Praise’s mysterious friend.’
‘Not so mysterious,’ she laughed with false ease and great charm. ‘The world being so full of mystery, in comparison I am sure I am quite mundane.’
‘You are anything but mundane,’ he considered her. ‘You are quite other. I am unsure what type, but the otherness is quite defined.’
‘Ahh, Dragons,’ Calico smiled serenely lifting a glass chalice into the light to examine its workmanship. ‘Such flatterers. This is lovely work. Where ever did you get it? But,’ she set the glass chalice carefully down upon the table top, ‘how did you go, my dear Praise, about the favour I begged of you?’
‘Do you not already know?’ Praise raised an eyebrow.
‘My ability does not work that way,’ she s
aid softly. ‘I do not see everything, only some things. Never enough,’ she sighed suddenly looking weary and sad. ‘Never enough for the task at hand.’
‘It is the task that intrigues us,’ Ember poured the rich orange liquid from the carafe into a chalice and handing it to Praise. ‘Changing the future can be a dangerous pursuit, Prophet,’ he frowned at her and offered her a chalice filled with orange. ‘It is the juice of a fruit that grows here in Dyvegar.’
‘Thank you,’ Calico accepted and sipped the liquid. ‘Lovely. Sweet but with a slight sour undertone,’ she rolled the liquid around the glass examining its viscosity. ‘The future is the future until it is the present or the past,’ she met his gaze equitably. ‘One cannot change something that has not yet come to pass one can merely try to influence how it will occur.’
Praise snorted. ‘You talk in circles, Calico,’ she scolded. ‘You are arguing semantics. Let us say what we mean to say – we are all friends here, after all,’ her eyes were challenging.
Calico sipped her juice, considering. ‘Let us talk about a story, then,’ she said. ‘In this story, there is a Prophet, a woman who bears a remarkable resemblance to myself. Prophecy is a capricious talent, dragons understand that,’ she nodded to Ember. ‘The reason prophecy is so… mercurial is because the future by its very nature is changeable. For example, Praise, you made a decision that lead to your escape from EAery. You could have decided to stay. Up until you actually made the choice to flee, your immediate future had two options. Once you made the choice to flee, the option to go to the mountain disappeared and time changed.
‘Imagine a world full of small choices, where every choice changes what will come. Then, imagine someone with the gift for Prophecy, seeing mere glimpses of these possible futures. The Prophet does not know which one will be taken, or even which future will result from that choice – not all of them are as clear cut choices as whether to stay or run. Often by the time a Prophet makes sense out of what has been seen, a choice has been made eliminating that future anyway,’ she gave an exasperated but smiling shake of her head.
