The Heir of Ænæria

by Thom L Matthews

  “That’s quite the dream.” It was clear Trinity wasn’t uncomfortable with silence so much as she was with allowing Rose to sink too deeply into her thoughts. “Do you have any control in these nightmares?”

  “What do you mean?” Rose asked.

  “Are you lucid? Some people can enter a state of awareness in their dreams when they’ve had them for so long and frequently recounted them.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “When you go to bed next time, tell yourself that you’re in control of your own mind. Over and over again as you go to sleep.”

  “You think that will help?”

  Trinity shrugged. “It might. You don’t have to just think that way you’re trying to sleep, either. You can do it when you’re awake, too.”

  Rose dropped her eyes to her lap. She figured Trinity was referring to the incident two weeks ago when Rose had screamed at the sight of Guillen the carpenter, who shared a rather vague resemblance to Julius, though their only similar features were short brown hair and hazel eyes that were often mistaken for green. Rose had suddenly found herself back in front of the Vault in Svaldway with blood spurting from her wrists while Julius collected and splashed it over the Vault’s front door.

  “I’ve only had a daytime flashback once. Do you really think that’s something I should be worried about happening again?”

  Trinity’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. “It’s possible—but that wasn’t what I meant. I just think it would be a good idea to remind yourself that you’re in control of your thoughts. Remind yourself of that when you begin to doubt yourself.”

  Rose felt a lump in her throat and swallowed hard. She smiled halfway and stood up from her bed. “You couldn’t have just come here to talk about my dreams. What’s going on?”

  “I thought you were going to sleep in ’til tomorrow. You’ve got a busy day ahead of you.”

  “What? No, I’m free of meetings today. I’m supposed to be packing, checking on the crops, and shooting targets before it gets too dark. That’s a full day!”

  Trinity shrugged. “You were free of meetings. A sentry arrived this morning. Apparently, Sydgilbyn’s war party will be arriving today.”

  “Already?” Rose yelled. “They weren’t supposed to be here until the end of the week! How did they get here so fast?”

  “No idea. You can ask the sentry. Just to warn you, he’s quite the looker, so you might want to…” Trinity gestured toward Rose’s hair and clothes. “Clean up.”

  Rose rolled her eyes. “I can tell you already I’m not interested in the sentry. I’ll see to the Sydgilbytes when they get here. What other meetings do I have?”

  “Kabedge wants to have a private word with you. He didn’t say about what.”

  Rose felt her lips contort. I know what that’s about. “Anything else?”

  “Kristos wants to see you. I think he needs help with the new recruits.”

  Rose felt a sigh escape her lips. She tied her hair back and placed a pair of sun-goggles over her forehead.

  Trinity scanned Rose from head to toe. “I still think you should change this”—she pointed broadly at Rose’s clothes and face and hair— “before you meet the sentry.”

  The corn and tomatoes, wheat and barley, beans and sprouts were all bulging from their tall standing platforms that Ben had designed during his alleged ‘free time’ in the Vault. This would be the second summer harvest since the special seeds were imported from Svalbard. The first summer in Rose’s life that Freztad yielded more than wilted fruits and shriveled vegetables. In a week they would surely be ready for plucking, but they wouldn’t be stored. The silos, cellars, and barns would remain in much the same state as they were now until the next harvest—that is to say, they would be nearly empty. All the surplus for the remainder of the war would be shipped north along the Gjoll for the army.

  “Do you have someone you can trust to make sure the longships are packed and en route by the time I’m in Vänalleato?” Rose asked Kabedge, admiring the farm from the old man’s back porch.

  Kabedge leaned across the wooden railing. He stroked his beard, admiring his vastly changed land. “Aye, I do. I’ve set Rohan in charge. I think he’s been looking for some meaningful work since Rakshi’s death.”

  Rose’s eyes widened and brow lifted. She knew that the man had been lost ever since his daughter’s death. While Rose had been in Ænæria, Rohan had apparently skipped work most days in favor of the tavern. Then, upon the proposal of war, it was as if the man had been woken from a deep sleep by a bucket of cold water. He worked overtime, crafting leather paddings and armor.

  “That’s a wonderful idea! He’s been looking to do more for the war. He was a little distraught when Kristos denied him the opportunity to join the sentinels.”

  “Can’t say I blame the commander’s decision,” Kabedge said. “A man fueled by revenge can do more harm than good on the battlefield. But making sure people harvest and ship crops? I think he can manage that. A little responsibility can go a long way for a man’s spirits.”

  “I’m glad you think so. Have you already asked him?”

  “I have, and he has agreed. But I know you’re quite busy, Chief, so I’ll get to the real reason I asked you here today.” Kabedge turned toward his house’s back door. “You’re leaving soon, and I don’t know when you’ll return, but I imagine it won’t be anytime soon. And at that time…”

  She placed her hand on Kabedge’s back. “It’s okay, Kabedge. Take your time.”

  “I wish I could. Time’s the problem, though. I don’t think Vic has much more of it.”

  That’s what I was afraid of.

  Kabedge walked inside the house and turned to Rose, gesturing for her to follow. She obeyed. Usually, Rose would have never dared to make the left after the door to the stairs that led to Vic and Kabedge’s bedroom. It seemed that wouldn’t change today, as Kabedge continued to walk forward. “This way, Rose. He’s too sick to go up and down the stairs.” The pair turned to a side room. It was a ghastly sight.

  The bed was full of faded stains no doubt from the various bodily fluids of a dying man. By the Gjoll, Rose thought. That can’t be Vic. The person lying in the bed was more skeleton than man, cachectic and pale. His chest rose slowly and fluttered as it descended. Vic’s eyes were closed and mouth wide open, gasping for air. Death was nothing foreign to Rose. She was surrounded by it in childhood during the plague, her youth during famines, and then again in Ænæria. She now knew that she had been spared all those years of the true horrors of the slowness of death. Vic had been sick for moons now. In a wretched state—like this—that entire time. The thought was more than depressing. It was painful. Excruciating and miserable. She couldn’t imagine how Kabedge felt, let alone Vic himself.

  Rose placed a hand atop Vic’s forehead. He feels feverish. It really will be soon, won’t it? “Will he wake?”

  “That,” Kabedge said after taking a seat by the dying man’s side and grasping his hand, “is something I find myself wondering quite often myself. Sometimes he opens his eyes and searches the room as if wondering where he is. Sometimes his eyes meet mine, and I ask myself if there’s even a hint of recognition behind them. Still though, on rare occasions, the fever will go down and he’ll even make out a few words to me, and I know my Vic is there.” His throat quivered like a tree in winter’s wind. “I just wanted you to be able to say goodbye.”

  “I don’t have to go, Kabedge. I can stay here. To the wastes with me being the queen. What’s the point of any of this if I can’t be with the ones I love?”

  Kabedge’s wrinkled face softened with a wide smile. “The point is to make a better life for the ones you love. To love is to sacrifice. Not just a part of yourself, but your whole self. You can’t be here while your mind is with the war, and you can’t be at war while your mind is here.”

  “I can’t just forget about everyone I’m leaving behind. About you and Vic, my mom and Ben. It’s all so much. It’s s
o hard.”

  “Take it from an old man, Rose. Be present in everything you do. None of it will be easy, but all of it will be worth it. For you, your people, and your family. You aren’t just fighting for the people of today, but for your children and their children alike.”

  Rose’s gut stung. This was something that she had always felt awful about. “You know how I feel about that, Kabedge. I never want children.”

  She didn’t want to be with a man, a woman, anyone at all. She didn’t know if something was wrong with her, or if from the devastation she witnessed her mother go through, after surviving the abuse of Julius. Or maybe it was just her fear for the future generations. Maybe she just never wanted to be responsible for bringing a child into a world that would just as soon snuff out its life or else send it to die in some pointless war. That’s why I don’t understand you, Ben. How could you have fallen for that red-headed traitor? Were you hoping for some future with her? After all you had faced, did you really think that was possible? Rose couldn’t imagine that Arynn was so beautiful and amazing as to make her cousin fall in love without realizing her potential to betray him and everyone she knew. The confusion of it all just made her hate the idea of love and romance even more.

  “Your children don’t have to be by blood, Rose,” Kabedge said, holding Vic’s hands. “Though you were never officially initiated, you’re the chief of Freztad and the leader of the Penteric Alliance. Soon you will be Queen of Ænæria. Your people are your children—the legacies of future generations.”

  “It’s the future that scares me, Kabedge.”

  “Don’t worry about the things you cannot control. Despair is just fear masked by sorrow, and fears can be overcome. What is life about if not to overcome one’s fears?”

  “Aren’t you afraid for Vic? About what comes next for him?”

  “Terrified. But I also recognize it’s not my journey.” Kabedge turned to look down at his sleeping husband. “There is nothing so personal as death. If I were to be overcome with despair, then I would be making it about myself when I know it is not.” He kissed Vic atop his forehead and stood from the side of the bed. “Alas, I’ve had an entire lifetime to learn these things. You’re not yet sixteen, yet you have already experienced so much. Leaving Freztad will be the next test of your resolve. By the end, I have no doubt you will make an excellent queen.”

  Rose’s face filled with color and warmth. Kabedge had always been a mentor to her, as had Vic. They were both like the grandparents she never had, though in a way, they were her grandparents. They both raised Julius as a young boy after his brother and birth parents died in a plague. It was never something either of the old men ever spoke of, but she imagined it helped fuel their affection for her. Even if not by blood, they are my family. She kissed Vic on his forehead. “I will do my best. For both of you. You’ve helped change the world for the better. Now it’s my turn. I only hope I can make you proud.”

  The old man’s arms clasped around Rose. “My sweet girl,” Kabedge said. “You already have. You’ve made us both so proud.”

  When Trinity had said a sentry from Sydgilbyn arrived, Rose had expected to meet with some lowly messenger. Perhaps under normal circumstances, she would have been correct, but not so with Geon’s war party. Instead, the sentry was no foot-soldier or swift messenger, but the jarl’s own son, Joshua.

  Rose found him brushing his horse in the stable. Though not a tall man, standing at eye level with Rose, he did indeed carry a large presence. She had not seen Joshua in many years—back when he was Rose’s age, nearly five years ago. He’d grown much in that time and come to very much resemble his father. He wore a thick leather jerkin with tattered edges at the ends of the sleeves. The man had dark eyes and wisps of hair over his lips and chin. Like his father, his skin was tan and olive, and he wore a long pony-tail, though the rest of his head was full of short and thin black hair.

  The jarl’s son stood up straight with his feet together and pounded his right fist over his chest before bowing. The customary greeting of a Sydgilbyte when in the presence of a superior, Rose thought.

  “It is good to see you again, Chief,” Joshua said. His voice was deep, but it was soft and soothing. “Or am I to address you as queen now?”

  Ah, he salutes me because of that. “You may call me Rose. I’m not queen yet, and even with the coronation, I won’t be queen of anything until this war is over.”

  “I can assure you that we have trained the greatest fighters the Penteric Alliance has ever seen. We will defend our people from Ænæria by any means necessary.”

  Rose wanted to roll her eyes but knew better. Joshua’s father scared her. He was a powerful man with the same insatiable thirst for war that had driven Sydgilbyn for generations. To them, battle was honorable; peace was for those who would settle for monotony over prosperity. Yet Geon was also a reasonable man who knew that peace had its perks—he did, after all, agree to join the Alliance, but that was only after agreeing to have full freedom to expand toward the south. Another part of their agreement was that Sydgilbyn had full access to metalworking resources to develop weapons and armor. Rose’s mother gave in to that demand begrudgingly when she formed the Penteric Alliance since it would mean arming the most volatile of all the five settlements. Sydgilbyn was bound by honor more than anything else, and Lydia had known that a pact with them was unbreakable.

  “We appreciate your assistance, Joshua,” Rose said. “Have you come alone, ahead of your party?”

  “Indeed. We’ve made excellent time. Our soldiers are moving at a brisker pace than anticipated. Most of them have never seen combat on this scale and have only fought wastelanders and barrens tribes in the south. Some of our top generals were soldiers during the conflict with Talamdor thirty years ago. Their tales are inspirations to us, and that is why I believe we are making such great time.”

  “When do you expect your people to arrive?”

  “By sundown tomorrow if it does not storm.”

  “That’s impressive,” Rose said. “I hope we can rely on that same diligence once we reach Ænæria.”

  “We are elated to serve and will continue to demonstrate our loyalty and bravery both on and off the battlefield.”

  “Have you had anything to eat or drink since you’ve gotten here?”

  “I have not. I waited at the barracks when I arrived because I thought I could meet with your sentinel commander. Imagine my surprise when I was told he was too busy, but I could meet with you instead. I told the sentinel I would be in the stable with my horse until you were ready.”

  Rose chuckled. “You didn’t think you could take a half-hour to eat?”

  “I didn’t want to inconvenience you by making you look for me. Nor would I want you to trouble yourself by going into an inn or shop. A queen is above such things.”

  This time Rose couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes. “I’m not a queen yet, Joshua. Nor am I above anything. I’m still a person, same as you.”

  Joshua didn’t seem to know what to say. Great, his father terrifies me, yet it seems I terrify him. I wonder what it’ll be like when all three of us are together. “It’s your first time in Freztad, right?”

  “It is indeed. I was supposed to come once as a boy, but my father changed his mind at the last minute. Due to the plague.”

  Rose nodded and narrowed her brow sympathetically. “Well, come on, I’ll show you to a nice little shop to get some true Freztadian food and drink. Then I’ll bring you to the sentinel commander. You can tell us both everything you need before the rest of your people arrive.”

  There was a loud thud followed by a hushed whimper. “Are you done yet?” the voice pleaded. It was Zechariah, standing against the village wall. A knife wobbled just overtop his sandy blond head.

  “C’mon, just one more time, Brother?” Kristos looked to the other sentinels and recruits within the courtyard and waved both hands in the air. The crowd cheered. “I think they want another! Worry not, Brother, I wo
n’t miss!” The people cheered once more.

  Rose cleared her throat, loudly enough for the intended ears to pick it up over the boisterous crowd. “You won’t miss, Kristos, because you won’t be throwing another knife.” Rose could have left it at that, but she didn’t want to threaten the commander’s authority in front of so many people while he was still so new, so she added, “Because you’ll need to meet Joshua, representative of Sydgilbyn and son of Jarl Geon.”

  Kristos’ eyes widened, and his brow raised. He dropped the knife, and it landed in the dirt with a wobble much like the one above Zechariah. “Ahem, yes, Chief. Go on, Zech, why don’t you run a drill with the recruits?”

  Zechariah slumped his shoulders and shrugged. He motioned for the trainees to follow him. As he walked away, Zechariah offered Rose a half-hearted smile.

  Something is bothering him, Rose noticed. It couldn’t just be due to the way his brother is treating him, could it? No, they’ll be twenty-seven this fall, just over a moon after the coronation. Rose couldn’t imagine that the siblings would still have such squabbles after so long together. It must be something else.

  Kristos eyed Joshua for a moment, squinting. He stroked the red-blond beard that he had been growing since being elected the new commander of the sentinels. It was growing rather long now, and Rose wondered when he would at least trim the disgusting thing.

  “You,” Kristos finally said after examining Joshua. He put a hand around Joshua’s right shoulder and squeezed. “You’re huge! What do they feed you people down there?”

  Oh no, Rose worried. She felt her cheeks grow as red as the flower for which she was named. Joshua is going to be so insulted. “Joshua, I’m so sorry for—”