Death of the Immortal King

by Sarah McCarthy

  “No.” Coralie tugged her own dress straight. She was conscious of their height difference, and of the fact that her own dress, although drab and grey and not fancy by any means, was of good quality linen, free of holes and well-fitting. When she’d bought the material to make it, she’d wanted so badly to buy extra, to make one for Lilianna as well. But she knew better than to offer Lilianna help.

  “Too good for doors?” Lilianna asked.

  “This was more fun.”

  Lilianna laughed, and Coralie’s heart was suddenly large and invincible in her chest. She had the urge to lean in, place a hand on Lilianna’s smooth cheek, and—she wasn’t sure what. Nothing.

  “Where are we going?” she asked instead, glancing up at the sky.

  “You’ll see.” Lilianna grinned and winked at her. She spun around, moving on the balls of her feet, her sheet of brown hair shining as it lifted off her shoulders.

  Coralie followed her through the cluster of small thatched cottages that made up their tiny village. Chickens scratched in the dirt, women leaned on fences, chatting to one another as they rested from working in small kitchen gardens. They caught more than one disapproving look as they passed.

  They climbed the rocky path up out of the village, the wind picking up. The wildflowers bloomed in great profusions of red, orange, and purple, their stalks bending in the breeze except where they were sheltered by the large black rocks that jutted from the landscape.

  Lilianna broke into a jog, her feet darting lightly over the uneven ground, and Coralie picked up her pace to match. They slowed when they came to the graveyard of old stumps. Abandoned branches and logs littered the ground between the rotting teeth of what had once been a forest of pine and madrona trees.

  The stumps became newer and fresher, and at last they entered the woods. This was a light, tenuous forest, the pine trees spaced far apart, with sparse vegetation in between. Only the hardiest of trees, and the luckiest, the ones who found rootholds in tiny cracks in the rock, survived here. In between, it was mostly grass and a few spindly bushes.

  Coralie took a deep breath, smelling the pine-scented air, cold here under the shadows of the trees, and the tension drained out of her. In the distance, she heard the steady thump of axes.

  They walked for several minutes, climbing still higher into the rocky landscape. Off to the left, Coralie could see open air where the land dropped off, a sheer cliff that plummeted into the waters of the fjord.

  The trees thickened, the ground now heavy with needles but too shady for even grasses to grow. They pushed their way through a tangle of sticks and bare branches. Coralie picked a spider web off her face and wiped it on her skirt. She was about to ask what the point of this was when they emerged onto a bare, rocky outcrop overlooking the ocean. Fifty feet below them the waves crashed against the base of the cliffs. Seagulls wheeled overhead in the bright empty sky, and there, on the edge of the outcrop, was the largest madrona tree Coralie had ever seen. Its trunk was thick and red and smooth, with papery bark peeling off it and littering the ground.

  “Come on,” Lilianna said, already grasping the first branch and bracing a foot against the trunk.

  Coralie went to peek over the edge first. The wind lifted her hair as she looked straight down to the green water swirling around the black rocks fifty feet below. But the cliff appeared stable. It wasn’t a cornice, and the tree was solidly rooted to the rock. She checked that the ring was still in her pocket and followed.

  The branches were well-spaced, making for easy climbing, and she scrambled up to where Lilianna sat, her bare feet dangling.

  Coralie joined her on a nearby branch and wrapped an arm around the trunk between them, then looked out at the view.

  The waters of the fjord sparkled far below, the wind sketching patterns across it. Behind them was forest; many of the pine trees were taller than they were, but not all, and they could see across to the far side where the finger of land on which their village sat sloped down to the water.

  Well, this was a place for a serious conversation, Coralie thought, glancing at her friend. Lilianna was looking out into the distance, her hair blowing forward into her face. She looked away before Lilianna caught her staring.

  “I’m leaving,” Lilianna said suddenly.

  Coralie’s heart stopped. “What?”

  Lilianna still wasn’t looking at her. “I’m going to Kreiss.”

  “Kreiss?” It was the only word Coralie could get out. All the other questions fought each other in her mind, and none escaped.

  “As soon as I can get enough money to pay for passage.”

  Coralie finally got her thoughts under control. “Do you know anyone in Kreiss?” She already knew the answer to that, though.

  “No.”

  “Do you have… I mean, how are you going to make money?”

  Lilianna lifted one of her shoulders. “I’ll figure something out.”

  “You’re just going to go and try to make money when you get there?”

  Lilianna lifted a hand and gestured resignedly. “It’s better than being here.”

  Coralie’s eyes fell on the faded yellow bruise on Lilianna’s neck and she bit back the retort that had been on the tip of her tongue.

  She paused, thinking. Lilianna still wasn’t looking at her. An idea occurred to her, and her heart started to pound. She swallowed. “Let me come with you.”

  Lilianna turned sharply. “You’ve got your grandmother’s business.”

  Coralie gripped the branch tightly then released it. She looked up into Lilianna’s eyes, and the thing that she’d wanted to say to her for years was right there between them. Could Lilianna feel it, too? But if she said it now, and Lilianna didn’t… didn’t feel the same... She might think their whole friendship had been a lie. And maybe part of it had. And then she would go to Kreiss alone.

  “Exactly.” Logistics. That was easier. Practicalities. “I can get work there.”

  “As a female blacksmith?” The incredulity was obvious in Lilianna’s tone. “Your grandmother was only tolerated because she was the only thing we had after your grandfather died.”

  “I’ll dress up as a man, then.”

  Lilianna burst out laughing, and Coralie, realizing how ridiculous it sounded, laughed too. The tension broke, and again they were just friends as they’d always been.

  “Oh, hey,” Coralie said, reaching into her pocket. “I made you something.” She tried to keep her voice nonchalant, her tone neutral as she took out the ring.

  Lilianna’s eyes widened. She reached out and took it gently.

  “Grandmother’s had me practicing jewelry, you know?” The lie grated on her conscience as she said it.

  “Oh, no I didn’t know.” Lilianna slipped it onto the first finger of her left hand and held it up, examining the delicate patterns. “It’s beautiful.”

  Coralie studied her face, trying to guess what she was thinking. All she saw was mild curiosity, though.

  “Thank you. It’s really beautiful,” Lilianna said again.

  “Eh, no it’s not.”

  Lilianna turned to face her. “No, really, it is.”

  They stared at each other for a moment, the tree swaying beneath them, and Coralie wished desperately for the courage to tell her how much she loved her.

  Some unknown expression darted across Lilianna’s face. “Look, you have things here. You’re right. It’s a stupid plan to leave on my own. But I can’t stay here. I don’t want you to come with me, though.”

  A thick wave of despair washed up through Coralie’s chest.

  “No—” Lilianna corrected herself. “Not because I don’t want you to come.”

  Coralie swallowed.

  “I… I don’t have a plan. It’s probably going to go terribly. I don’t want to drag you down with me. I don’t want to destroy your life.”

  “The only way you could destroy me is if you leave without me.”

  Lilianna reached across the trunk and wrapped he
r arms around Coralie in a tight hug. Coralie squeezed her back, resting her cheek on Lilianna’s shoulder and closing her eyes, warmth and tenderness washing over her.

  After Coralie left to return to her work at the forge, Lilianna stayed for a long time, alone in the tree, still seeing Coralie’s bright grey eyes. So serious, so knowing. There was something solid and true and real there. Coralie knew every stupid broken piece of her.

  She imagined the home she and Coralie would have together, in some narrow, out of the way corner of Kreiss. Coralie would find work as a blacksmith, and she would… well, she still didn’t know what she would do.

  She examined the ring on her finger. Coralie had made it seem like nothing, like it was just some bit of leftover metal from her practice. She ran a fingertip over its smooth surface. The design must have taken her hours to get just right. That had to mean something. It was beautiful and intricate, with an attention to detail that was totally Coralie.

  It was the first piece of jewelry Lilianna had ever owned, and it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. The careful curves, the surface polished smooth until it gleamed. She looked at the ring and she saw herself through Coralie’s eyes, the best possible version of herself. How was it that even with something as simple as a piece of metal Coralie made her feel seen?

  Eventually, the sun began to set, and Lilianna reluctantly climbed down from the tree and began to make her way back through the darkening forest. Clouds swept in, glowing red in the light of evening through the black silhouettes of the trees. The pounding of the axes had ceased, and Lilianna paid little attention to anything outside her own thoughts as she made her way down the path toward the lights of the village.

  A ramshackle cottage with a moldering thatched roof sat on the outskirts of the village. One end of the cottage had collapsed, but a new wall had been built straight through the middle, closing off the derelict side, making a smaller hovel on one end. Only weeds grew in what had once been the kitchen garden. No light shone in the windows of this house.

  The door stuck as Lilianna pushed it open, striving to be as quiet as possible. She paused, listening. The faint sound of breathing pulsed from deeper in the darkness. She entered, closing the door softly behind her. There was a strong smell of drink and something worse. Grateful for the quiet, she curled up in a corner, pulling her thin blanket over her shoulders. Despite her hunger she didn’t bother checking the cupboards. A few more days. That was all.

  That night Coralie lay in bed, wide awake for hours, calculating. They’d need two silvers each for the passage to Kreiss. She needed to collect clothes and supplies. She could get extra work from her grandmother and sell off everything she didn’t need.

  Thinking through every detail let her avoid the central question of Lilianna’s feelings towards her. It let her imagine what it would be like to live with Lilianna, alone, away from everyone who knew who they really were, away from anyone who would judge them.

  4

  Jedren

  A few years earlier.

  Something rustled behind him, and Jedren jumped, squinting into the darkness of the alley. Nothing. He glanced over his shoulder and readjusted the sack he had slung over one shoulder, then turned his gaze upward to the golden light streaming out the single lit window above. A shadow moved across that light and the outline of a slim form arrived at the window. Kallia looked down at him, her fingers gripping the windowsill, her long black hair hanging down over one shoulder.

  “I’ll be right there,” she whispered, and disappeared again.

  He heard a board creak, could see in his mind’s eye her skirts tucked under her as she knelt on the floor, bowing one final time to the altar he had built for her.

  Jedren was a slight, dark-haired man. His tunic was thin and full of holes; his pants were the wrong size, and hung off him, held up by a length of rope he’d tied around his waist in place of a belt.

  Kallia’s silhouette appeared again in the window; she held a bag down and he reached up, his fingers clumsily finding purchase as its contents shifted and something clanked.

  In a rush of air, she landed next to him, looking about her and rearranging her cloak on her slim shoulders. He reached out and tucked a strand of black hair behind her ear, then cupped her chin in his hand. She was only a few inches shorter than he was. He leaned in and kissed her gently, and for a long moment he forgot about everything they had to do. All too soon she pulled away, glancing back up at the light streaming from the window.

  “Did anyone see you?” he asked.

  She shook her head, biting her lip. “I don’t think so.”

  “I don’t think anyone saw me either.” He took her hand in his and she followed him, silent as his shadow, to the end of the alley.

  He looked both ways, up and down the dark, empty streets, took a deep breath, and turned right, up and away from the docks.

  They walked in silence for several hours, her hand never leaving his. He looked back a few times, saw her lips moving. When she caught him watching her, she gave him a quick, anxious smile, but returned to her silent prayers. They made camp a few miles out of town, off the side of the road, in a dip in the rocky ground. She tucked her head under his chin, her hand resting on his chest, and fell asleep almost immediately. For a long time, Jedren lay, looking up at the stars, partly obscured by whispy clouds, holding as still as he could to let her sleep.

  The pounding of hooves woke them. It was a cold morning, the wind whipping across the barren landscape. Jedren held Kallia close, pulled her down as far as he could into the rocks.

  The first horse thundered around a bend, and the top of a soldier’s head came into view. Jedren closed his eyes. Please, Numenos. Don’t let him see us.

  The horse’s gait faltered, the regular pounding of its hooves gave way to a clattering trot, and then it stopped. Three more pulled up behind it, and Jedren reluctantly opened his eyes to see four soldiers staring over at them. They were dressed in the yellow and green livery of Kallia’s father’s house, their black boots shining in their stirrups. Kallia tensed against him.

  The first of the men, a captain’s insignia on his breast, swung off his horse, handing the reigns to one of the others. The other two came up behind.

  “Leave us alone,” Kallia said, as Jedren eased her off him and stood, moving between her and the soldiers.

  “You’re coming home with us, Mistress Kallia,” the captain said, his hand on his sword hilt. Jedren reached for his own sword, a cheap, rusted blade it had taken him months to save for.

  “No, I’m not,” Kallia said, her hand on Jedren’s shoulder.

  The captain sighed. “Come on. You’re outnumbered here, haven’t you noticed?” He eyed Jedren. “We’d rather not kill you. We don’t even have orders to. But we are taking her.”

  Jedren could feel Kallia trembling behind him. Knew her mind would be racing, filled with thoughts of everything she was going back to. She wasn’t going to go back. Not to that. Jedren yanked his rusted sword from its scabbard. It scraped its way out, particles of rust flaking off and floating to the ground. The captain eyed it.

  “You’d have to be the best swordsman in Glynloch—no, probably in Volaria—to fend us off with that.”

  “And,” another soldier said, moving to the side so that he was approaching from Jedren’s left. “If you were the best swordsman in all of Volaria, you’d have a better sword than that.”

  “Probably better pants, too,” the third soldier commented, moving to flank Jedren’s other side.

  Jedren took Kallia’s hand, squeezed it tightly, and then gently moved her back out of the way.

  Jedren lifted his blade, readjusted his stance.

  “I’ll go back,” she said, her voice choked, but Jedren lifted a hand.

  “No. You won’t.”

  The captain sighed. He unsheathed his shining silver blade and in one quick motion darted forward. Jedren felt the blade nick the skin of his belly, a sting of pain, and then a cold breeze on
his legs.

  “Should have worn tighter pants,” the captain commented, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

  Jedren grimaced, but without lowering his blade, stepped out of the tattered pants now puddled around his ankles. He wished his legs weren’t so pale, scrawny, and hairy, and also that the first time Kallia had seen him partially naked had been under better circumstances.

  “This is what you’re running away with?” the man on his left said to Kallia, lifting an eyebrow. He eyed Jedren’s lower half. “Not a lot there.”

  Jedren said nothing. He kept his focus divided evenly between the four of them.

  “Come on, I’m starving, let’s finish this and get back,” the man on his right whined.

  “Spoilsport,” the captain said, but shrugged.

  Jedren saw the lunge coming. He parried, the captain’s weapon slicing along the length of his own as Jedren pivoted out of the way. He heard a blade whistling through the air, coming for his neck, and dropped to the ground. The blade swept through his hair, less than an inch from his forehead, as the back of his head cracked against the ground. The captain lunged straight for Jedren’s chest, stopped suddenly by a rock that flew through the air and cracked into the side of his head. The captain stumbled, blinking, his hand rising to his scalp. His fingers came away red, blood trickling down the side of his face. Another rock came straight for his face, but he ducked out of the way.