Knights and Dragons of Avondale

by Kai Kazi

  “No. Leave us.” He said, and the guards faltered, “Now.”

  Shaitani watched them leave as her heart hammered in her chest,

  “Forgive me,” Temejun said, bowing his head, “I did not believe.”

  “No,” she said, aching with the effort, “you did not, but you do now, don’t you?” He nodded, “I know you, horse lord, and I know what you can do.” She clasped her hands to stop their shaking, “and I know what darkness lies in your heart when the heat of the day leaves and the nights roll in… serve me,” she said, “and it can all be true.”

  “I serve no man,” Temejun snarled, and Shaitani sank to her knees, running her hands up his thighs, though her toes curled at the act,

  “I am no man,” she said, “and I will give you rewards no man could.” Her whispers made him shudder; Temejun nodded, “and to show that I bear no grudge,” she said, “I will show you my power before ever you make a move.” She pulled his sword from its sheath and ran her finger down the blade, splitting the skin with a hiss, and whispered the dark words Pallas had taught her centuries ago. “This blade will not be turned,” she said, “by steel or stone. See its power, and then come to the hot springs when you wish to serve.”

  She made her exit before the guards could be recalled, and when she had passed from sight broke into a run with her heart in her mouth. The springs were blessedly empty, and Shaitani flopped down by the side of the water, shaking like a leaf in the wind; the past had never been so close. Had never tasted so real. It was her, the girl. Whatever she had done, whatever that child inside her had, it was reaching out to her and tearing down her defences. It would have to stop if she was to work him; Temejun was smarter than Drakho had been. Stronger willed by far. The control had to be hers, the loss of it was unconscionable. She had not lost control since… since she was a child, of sorts. Or just after. She touched her stomach, felt it rumble with heaviness-

  -it was swollen beyond all reason,

  “No.” She gasped, shaking her head, “no, no, no.” The gathered men and women were not moved by her defiance, “don’t look.” She gasped, pulling against the ropes, succeeding only in spinning.

  “It is a rite of passage, child, nothing more,” Chei said with a laugh, “let go.”

  “No.” She shook her head, fiercely, “you said- you said the book is everything.” She looked down at its pages as she spun,

  “It is.” Chei said,

  “I can’t.”

  “You will,” Chei said, “because nothing can stand in the way of the desires and needs of the body. Not even the book, just as no sentiment can stand in the way of the needs and desires of the cause.”

  Zennah. She closed her eyes and sobbed,

  “Too proud,” a woman said, “this will cause issue.”

  “It will be overcome.” Chei said as she began to shake, sweat trickling down the back of her legs as she screwed up her face. Her bladder gave up first; a trickle of urine slipped down the seam of her rear and splattered the pages. The sound opened a gate; her bladder emptied in seconds, but it felt like an eternity, and when her bowels began to shift she sobbed harder. The smell was enough to make her wish to die, but the mutters of approval from the crowd cemented the feeling. When it was over they sent her to her cell, unwashed, unfed, caked in grime and tears. If she was to be their leader, did they not fear her retribution; the anger was almost bigger than the body holding it. She crouched in the corner and waited-

  Shaitani grimaced and curled into a ball by the water. She would need to deal with it soon, but not now. Not now.

  When he came he did so alone, and Shaitani was glad. He held the sword as if it were precious and fearful,

  “How did you do this?” He said,

  “It cost me greatly,” she said, voice hoarse, “but it will be worth it, if you are ready to take what I offer.” He nodded,

  “I am,” He said, “the… what you showed to me. Will it come to pass?”

  “It could,” she said, “if you wish it.”

  “I do,” he said, “I wish it all,” Shaitani smiled, “I will serve now to rule later.” He said, and she suppressed a laugh.

  “Then you must speak with your brother. Tell him of the kingdom of Archibald. Tell him of its wealth and tell him of its resources. If he will not treat with foreigners, he may well take what is needed from them.” She said,

  “This is where the Queen is?” Temejun asked,

  “No, it is the realm of her husband,” she said, “they must be distracted and separated. I will tell you where to strike.” Temejun licked his lips,

  “He may not listen to me.” He said,

  “You must convince him,” she said, rubbing her forehead, “you must put this into his wine.” She handed him a small pouch of powder from her pack.

  “Will it harm him?”

  “No,” she said, “but it will make him malleable.”

  CHAPTER viiI

  The blows on her forearms were light, as ever, but Avondale felt each one nonetheless; her nights had been chaotic where they were not sleepless, and her body was beginning to crumble under the deprivation and pressure.

  “Raise your fists, my lady.” Shannon said, pacing the outer rim of the ring that she and Sonja were sparring in. Her belly was becoming too heavy for their morning runs, but these sparring sessions helped her to vent the frustration, the fear of each day. Shannon had begun to watch, at first, and then to offer suggestions, and then he stepped forward one day and gave and order. Avondale remembered how Sonja had stopped, straightened her neck and then shrugged. He was more highly trained, she had said to Avondale later, than she. What she knew had been learned from hard experience, whereas he had been taught; if they did not learn from each other they were both fools. So now Sonja sparred with Avondale, and then with Shannon.

  Avondale waved her hands,

  “I can’t,” she panted, leaning over, “I feel…” she touched her head and staggered. Four hands caught her before she could hit the ground. Together they lifted her to a shady patch of grass, and Sonja took off at a run. Shannon held her hand,

  “Majesty, are you well?” He said, face creased with worry, “Is there pain…” he motioned to her stomach.,

  “No, no, nothing like that.” She said, heart sinking; she would never hear the end of this from Fiona, “I did not… eat well this morning,” she struggled to a sit, “just a faint I think.” The words sounded so casual, and yet she could remember when any one part of this day would have rendered her exhausted, tearful, and overwhelmed. How time changed things.

  “You should eat,” he said, “any one of the men would be scolded for failing to eat their morning meal before midday practice.”

  “And why should I be different,” Avondale huffed, “I know… you may scold me, Shannon, but only once you help me sit against this tree.” This seemed to appease him, and he faded into the background; a unique skill for one so large, she thought. Sonja returned with Aiden and Fiona as Shannon pulled her back against the tree.

  “What’s happened?” Fiona bounced baby Jon on her hip; she was old to be a new mother, but her energy seemed limitless. A servant girl took him from her and stood by, “the child?”

  “No, no,” Avondale gasped,

  “The Queen says she has not eaten,” Shannon stood and bowed to Aiden, “a fainting fit is most likely.”

  “I did not know you were a midwife, guardsman.” Aiden said, looking him up and down,

  “No, sir.” Shannon said,

  “You are dismissed.” Aiden said, and Shannon turned to leave,

  “No,” Avondale said, “no, Lord Tethetras, stay.” Shannon stepped back once more; no matter how he was pulled between them he remained polite, firm, detached. Aiden’s scowl deepened, “Fiona I am fine, please. There is no pain, no rumblings, just dizziness. I didn’t eat, and it was foolish. I only need water and perhaps some stew… in fact, perhaps you and Lady Sonja could get me some?” They nodded, “Take Lord Tethetras, I want to speak
to my husband.”

  When they were alone she patted the ground beside her, but he didn’t move,

  “Aiden, please.” She said, and the frustration in her voice must have moved him. He sat next to her but said nothing. Avondale sighed, “When did it come to pass that we cannot speak to each other, Aiden?” He said nothing, “When did we stop being friends?”

  “I do not know.” He said, and those quiet words broke her; they confirmed what she had hoped he would deny,

  “I can’t bear to fight with you, Aiden,” she said, “I love you so much.”

  “And I love you,” he turned to her, “but…”

  “But what?”

  “I… you have changed Avondale,” he said, “I never thought you would humiliate me in front of others and choose the company of… common soldiers and foreign visitors above mine.”

  “And I never thought I would be raped,” she said, almost relishing his flinch, “and I never thought my first child would not be yours, and I never thought you would blame me for it all… nor did I think you would begrudge me a single friend, or be jealous of a man who is merely doing his job. But you do, you are, and I have been,” she bit her lip, “and I do not know if I can forgive you for that… because I do not think that you are sorry,” she said. Aiden swallowed,

  “I am sorry I hurt you,” he said, “I am…”

  “But you do blame me.” She raised her brows,

  “No, yes… I… I do not know, Avondale,” he said, “I don’t feel it was your fault, but you…”

  “What?” Avondale snapped,

  “You kept it from me,” he said, “and that hurts.” Avondale sighed and let her head fall, nodding,

  “I know,” she said, “I… am sorry I did not tell you earlier… I didn’t want to believe it was true.” She said, but the tight feeling in her chest wouldn’t leave. She wanted to throttle him, but when she turned to look at him properly her heart clenched, “What happened to your face?” She gasped,

  “Sonja.” Aiden said with a laugh.

  “What?” Avondale started to stand,

  “Aye,” Sonja strode to them holding a plate, “which reminds me, highness, why didn’t you fight?”

  “What?” Aiden snapped, “You sat on my chest and punched me in the face while I was sleeping, you’re lucky I didn’t call the guards to take your head.” Avondale gaped; she could be flogged for speaking back to the king consort, let alone striking him, but she was unrepentant.

  “So why didn’t you fight?” Sonja crossed her arms, Fiona covered her mouth, and Shannon’s lips quirked in a rare display of emotions. Avondale drew her brows in, and then, when it hit home, cough in surprise. The realisation came to Aiden last, and when it did he hissed and skulked away, “Bloody fool.” Sonja muttered and sat beside her,

  “He’s still the king.” Fiona said,

  “King consort,” Sonja said with a snort, “tell me he didn’t deserve it, Lady Fiona? Tell me it won’t do him good?” Fiona looked down,

  “Eat, Avondale,” she said, “you need to stay strong.”

  She ate; when Fiona was confident she was keeping it down she left, and once more it was the three of them, watching the guards train, now. Shannon stood to attention until Avondale sighed,

  “Oh by the prophet sit down,” she said, “just sit down.” He cleared his throat nervously, and then did as told. Avondale sighed, “You are the closest friend I have, Sonja…” she shook her head, “what do I do?”

  “About what?” Sonja said, picking at some bread,

  “Everything,” she said, “I can’t rule a kingdom, it is not possible-”

  “It is.” Shannon said, and then added, “My Queen you proved that when you spoke to the council, you took control admirably,” he spread his hands, “if you can build bridges with them and learn what they have to teach there is… no reason you can’t do as well as your father before you.”

  “Some men would say woman have not the brain for such things.” Avondale said and Sonja snorted,

  “Most men.” She said,

  “I don’t believe that,” Shannon said, “and neither do the rest of your guard. We saw you save prince Aiden’s life at Castle Bledd, and we saw you return for Master Greendale. The Duke Rothsay remarked on your composure,” He said, “and Lady Sonja distinguished herself, too. It seems to me that women are often held back by their fathers and husbands.” He said, and then flushed, “Forgive me, I overstepped.”

  “Overstepped right onto the truth.” Sonja snorted, and Avondale laughed,

  “Don’t worry,” she said, “I’ll tell no-one of your indiscretion, Master Guardian.”

  “Much appreciated.” He said as if her teasing had flown over his head.

  When the messenger rode in he did so without slowing; the horse was panting and steaming despite the relative warmth of the day. Avondale struggled to get to her feet, held down by the bulk and weight of the child within her, but managed to do so with a modicum of grace before too long.

  “What is it?” Avondale said, hands resting on her stomach, as they so often did now. The messenger bowed his head,

  “My lady, I seek Crown Prince Aiden.”

  “He has retired indoors, what is it?” Avondale rubbed her belly,

  “I… I come from Archibald, attacks have occurred along the coast. King Eaglecross summons his son home to defend the kingdom.” The messenger said, looking at his feet. Avondale closed her eyes as a sickening heave ran through her stomach,

  “Sha- Lord Tethetras, find my husband.” She said, waving one hand. He nodded and bowed, excusing himself with more grace than Avondale thought she might have displayed in all the last few months gathered together, “Go to the kitchens, my friend, and get something to eat and drink. He will come to you.”

  She sat at her desk, rigid with sickly fear and understanding. Either he would know she could not come, and they could part sweetly, or he would ask her to come and she would have to put him down, and the rift would draw further open. Either way they would be parted, and though she had not wanted his interference, the loss of his support, such as it was, was a prospect that rattled her.

  Or, he would not come at all… and she would know there was nothing to save any longer. Avondale closed her eyes and waited, curled around the hard, cold grief in her stomach, even as she clutched the bump that held warm, wriggling life. Eventually, there was a knock at her door. Avondale swallowed and rubbed her face,

  “Come in,” she said, voice high and wavering more than she would have wanted it to. It was Aiden; relief mixed with anxiety to render her mute. He licked his lips and sighed,

  “You know,” he said, and she nodded,

  “I do,” Avondale said, “you’re going?”

  “I must,” Aiden said, “you know this,” she nodded, “and you cannot come.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement; she saw the understanding in his eyes, and a tender flame of love took hold again,

  “No,” She said, “but I will write you every day, Aiden, and…” she looked down, “perhaps this distance is just what we need. Perhaps the time will… let certain wounds heal a little.” He nodded and turned, as if this was all there was to say. She lurched forward in her seat a little, consumed by the desire to run to him, to say whatever it was that he needed to hear. But her hands tightened on the arms of her chair; her body, already a mother, knew what it needed. Aiden turned to look at her with such intensity that she almost quailed.

  “I do love you, Avondale,” he said eventually, “I do… know that this is hard for you, perhaps harder than it is for me,” she swallowed, eyes narrowing, “but you have the child to focus on. I have nothing.”

  “You have me,” she said, “or you would if you would come to me. And you have the child… he will be yours from the day of his birth, if only you accept him.” Tears burned in her eyes, Aiden’s eyebrows rose, and he licked his lips.

  “I would… like that. One day, but you’re right,” he said, “I need the time, I think, more
than I know,” he crossed the room and wrapped an arm around her, kissing her tentatively, making her shiver, “I will leave before dawn,” he said, “don’t wake for me… you need to rest.”

  Avondale bit her lip and rubbed her arms,

  “Aiden… would you, perhaps you might wish to sleep here tonight?” She said, blanching when Shannon stepped through the door. He flushed and looked at the wall, but it was hard to minimise your presence, she thought, when there was so much of you. Aiden, still unaware, swallowed and sighed,

  “I… no, Avondale I can’t,” he said, having the grace at least to look sorry, and looked at her stomach, “I… forgive me.” He turned to leave, starting when he saw Shannon. Avondale saw the displeasure slither across his face. Shannon stood in silence, staring at the wall like a rabbit caught in the gaze of hounds, until Avondale rubbed her forehead,

  “What is it, Shannon?” She said,

  “Nothing, my lady,” he said, “I was simply coming to tell you that the changing of the guard has passed. I will be outside if you need me.” He started to leave,

  “No… wait, I…” Avondale rubbed her face and tried to push the tears away, “would you like to play chess?” She said suddenly, “My father taught me when I was young. I find it… eases my mind.” Shannon blinked warily nodded,

  “Of course.”

  The night drew in, but it was one of the few nights of its kind that did not cause too much hurt. His stoic presence warded off the sharp talons of that watchful night, even if he was no great conversationalist. She saw the wedding band on his finger and wondered if his wife was so quiet, or if she made up for his silences. Perhaps one day she would ask him.