Winter's Crossing: A Golden Fates Novel

by Katie Macey

  "There's no denying that we were lost.” Niamh slowly let go. “And it does us good to discover that the High King's reign does not reach these parts. Are you so used to having respect by default? We are at their mercy, Veayre!" Tense and staring, Veayre peered over the winding path's ledge.

  "More pathways, to other caverns and spaces.” Their guide answered Veayre’s unspoken question. “If you wish to see for yourself I can take you, but not now. And it’s not safe to lean like that. The crystals and the unhindered heights remind us of our mortality, but one mustn't focus on it. Come. Your rooms are this way."

  She had grey eyes with creases around them that folded with kindness when she spoke.

  "Our rooms?" Veayre asked, confused.

  "You will wash, and dress. Food will be brought. Then the Lady will decide."

  "Decide what?" Niamh wondered out loud.

  Lifting one palm and swinging the arm wide, the guide directed them through a sparkling doorway.

  "What she will do with you."

  Veayre rushed forward and, ignoring the ominous message, threw herself on a luxuriously soft futon. Niamh and Caeednce followed but jumped when the door slammed behind them.

  "No explanation? Nothing?" Caeednce whispered.

  Tears filled Niamh’s eyes as she realized that all three of them felt some kind of relief, that this was a reprieve from the disasters they'd experienced. The room proved more magnificent than anything they'd expected. But feeling like prisoners, this opulence and luxury only disturbed them more.

  "Veayre, what did that woman say we were to do?" Caeednce spoke quietly.

  "Wash, dress, and then eat. Though I'm not sure what she means..."

  Veayre sat up from her reclined position on the futon. Niamh explored the wide-open circular room and the seven smaller rooms that mushroomed off it. Somehow natural light filtered through the crystal ceiling. Each off-shooting room contained a deep bath, with folded clothes and towels nearby.

  A chance to be rid of their grimy clothes eased their nerves and they agreed washing was a sensible choice. Niamh entered the room closest to her, and drew the long red curtain across the doorway, shutting out the light of the main room.

  Petrified wood dripping with cool water, grew hundreds and hundreds of tiny mushrooms that gave off a dim green light, like tiny candles. Dropping her cloak, and ill-fitting boots, she unfastened her dress.

  Three steps led into the water, and Niamh ran her hand over the smooth ledge. Warm water slid over her feet but beyond the bottom step, its depth lay beyond her reach. Plunging her head beneath the rippling surface she tried to look through the water again, but there was no base to the tub. Sitting on the tub's steps allowed her to fully submerge, and utterly panicked by the bottomless tub, she ignored the wide, opulent space.

  Indigo tiles, glossy and smooth to touch, lined the tub. A cluster of bottles, varying in scents and colours sat within arm’s reach. Niamh checked the contents of three of them, and chose an orangey liquid that smelt like peach blossoms. So she transformed from dirty and worn, to shiny and clean. Letting the water drip off her body onto the floor, Niamh quickly dried off and pulled on the clothes they'd laid out: silky nightclothes, grey long pants, and matching tunic, with silver shoes.

  Towelling her hair, a deeper shade of magenta than normal, she opened the curtain. Caeednce and Veayre sat, one on the futon, and one on a giant cushion, velvet and tasselled. Joining them, Niamh took in the details of the room. Clusters of crystals formed a mosaic across each wall, where a different season of Traot Crurg was depicted. Niamh draped her damp towel over the side of a futon and took a closer look at the autumn scene. Falling petals and bubbling streams had been crafted by a Master tradesman.

  "So what should we-" Niamh began but stopped. The locked door swung open. Three trays were placed in the centre of the room.

  "What an insult!" exclaimed Veayre. Niamh was starting to wish Veayre had never left the city. Why was she on this journey if she expected deference everywhere she went?

  “I don't remember now, Veayre...Why were you voyaging to Oplijah? In the first place?" Caeednce asked while reaching for another piece of flatbread.

  "Oh, well it's for research,” Veayre placed her apple core on her plate. “My father wishes me to see more of the world, to understand..."

  "So,” Caeednce spoke with her mouthful. “You aren't vowing to be a priestess..."

  "No! I would never- I mean, it's fine for some people-"

  "But not for you?" Niamh gulped at the cooled tea.

  "That's not what I mean, it’s just, I'm… and my father says we need to be ready, for changes ahead..."

  Caeednce was the only one still touching her food.

  "What changes?" Niamh sat up straight and pushed her tray away.

  The door opened again. Caeednce looked up, obviously relieved. "Yes?"

  "My Lady would speak to the girl with the sunset hair."

  Veayre lifted one lock of her raven hair, "Well that's not me. I'm going to rest." Ignoring any reaction to her abruptness, she rolled over on the futon.

  Niamh shot Caeednce an eye-roll.

  “I'll be back."

  Caeednce nodded, but Niamh wondered why the Lady sought her out?

  She didn’t lock the door, which Niamh found curious. They weren't free to leave...but they weren’t locked in?

  Her messenger smirked. "Not all kingdoms rely on force."

  Niamh opened her mouth to question her further, surprised that she was so willing to talk. But her guide beat her to it.

  "I'm not a scout. I live and work here, in the hall."

  "So you have different rules? Do you have a name then?"

  Niamh got laughed at for that. And the pair began moving back up the winding passage, past the sparkling yet razor-sharp walls and staying well clear of the treacherous ledge.

  "I'm Jorgan, but you won't see me after this. There are many of us. And I don't believe your kind could recognize me again anyway."

  "Not recognize you?"

  "Yes, you use colours and clothing and expression to define yourselves, our subtle ways are too refined for your eyes."

  Niamh didn't enjoy being patronized, but the path curved and a gushing roar drowned out her voice.

  Unlike the harshness of their paths and the restraint, or ‘subtleties’ as Jorgan explained, they came upon another aspect of the Traot Crurg people.

  "An underground water-fall!" Niamh marvelled. Jorgan paused, and Niamh was grateful. She touched Jorgan's arm, as she took in the view.

  As much as the amphitheatre-like hall of the Lady was grand, this space was equal in size yet so much more fun! One waterfall, wide and dancing, rushed from a gaping hole in the roof. Like a chandelier of splashing water, it was the centrepiece of the giant space, secret and hidden from the world. Niamh couldn't believe they'd been wandering lost and destitute while a community like this lived nearby... For there were other waterfalls, smaller and less dangerous. Tumbling rapids and churning water, pockets, and hollows of calm, here and there. Everywhere she looked, something completely different was occurring. In one pool, very young children were paddling and learning to swim. In another, crystals were being placed in formations by young men. But the one that caught Niamh's attention, was a fall busy with water-runners.

  "But they- They're running-" Niamh managed to squeak. Years of side-glances and she'll-grow-out-of-it adult looks had stunted her progress with wind manipulation, but these water-runners, they had been trained.

  "The master watches over." Jorgan pointed towards an older woman, who looked to be around Aunty's age. Niamh spotted her and watched as she signalled for them to halt. She led them out and away through a nearby opening.

  "I can't believe just how different it is here," Niamh said quietly to Jorgan. But her voice mingled with the waterfall's roar. Niamh felt a nudge at her elbow. Jorgan nodded her head, onward.

  With a head full of incredible new information, and so many questions, Niamh forgot to
be nervous…until she approached the raised throne once more, when it assaulted her all at once. When instructed to kneel, Niamh knew she would’ve stumbled to her knees from trembling anyway.

  "Niamh, of Guthaecia," Jorgan announced. Sneaking a quick shoulder squeeze in, she darted away. Niamh knew it was meant to reassure her, but it only served to shoot fresh fear through her. She hung her head and waited.

  The air was the same muggy cool as the other caverns, and though she'd passed through the noisy water halls, in here it was silent. Nervous and acutely aware, Niamh's ears strained and she found she could hear the faint dripping of water nearby. Did she dare look up? What was the protocol here?

  "I understand you wish to leave our Halls and continue over-land to Oplijah."

  Her voice was like rushing water, but Niamh lifted her head hearing kindness in it. The silver fabric slid under her fingers against her thighs. She hadn't brushed her hair yet, so it hung wildly around her shoulders.

  "That's correct," Niamh replied. Squaring her feet, she faced the enthroned Lady of Traot Crurg.

  "You're story is both expected and yet completely unique. How does your obvious rebellion go unchecked?"

  "It is not rebellion-" said Niamh.

  "No? You seek to avoid the coming storm. You think that you can secure your family."

  "But how do you know about-"

  "The coming storm? Well, that's what we call it. I must speak to your friend, the one with enemy features."

  Niamh froze. She remembered out in the forest, that the lady had singled Caeednce out, and said she was interested in her story. Niamh slouched slightly.

  "Enemy features?" she whispered.

  "Yes. The water, the blue, the sky."

  "You mean Caeednce. What’s so bad about having blue hair?" Niamh truly wondered, it didn't make sense.

  "You don't know."

  Niamh couldn't confirm or deny anything as she didn't have the faintest idea what the Lady was talking about. Surely this ruler had the power to help her.

  "My sisters joined our family when I was very young. But they aren't citizens. I'm afraid that when the High King passes, they will be exiled. All reports say that Lord Gleriledd is his greatest influence and will control the new ruler. Everyone knows he wants to exile everyone who..." Niamh took a step toward the throne, clasping her hands together.

  "I don't know many details, but they’re my family, I live together with them and my aunt.”

  "You go to such lengths for these sisters. Tell me, what is that on your wrist?"

  Niamh had forgotten she was even wearing it. The bracelet gleamed on her wrist, but why the sudden interest in it? It wasn’t worth anything, though sentimental and dear to Niamh's heart.

  "My sisters and me, we wear these matching bracelets. It's silly, but we just always have." Niamh clasped her hand around the bangle and hugged it to her chest.

  "Bring it closer."

  "I won’t take it off."

  "I wouldn't dream of touching it. I wonder that your aunt was so careless. Anyone would recognise..."

  Movement flashed in Niamh’s peripheral vision.

  "I said 'no interruptions’”

  "I wouldn't dare."

  It sounded like Jorgan’s voice, but Niamh kept her gaze fixed.

  "And yet, here you are, interrupting and at a critical moment. For the scales to fall, it takes more time."

  "Please, don't trouble yourself to explain to me. It’s only another traveller has important news. It’s of utmost importance."

  Lady gave no reply. Less confident of her decision now, the messenger stammered on.

  "It’s about the High King and Lord Gleriledd. We’re getting reports of movements in the north...”

  Mountains of fabric in full skirts and flowing sleeves floundered as the Lady jumped to her feet. Storming away from the throne, she hurried from the room. Jorgan shrugged at Niamh and raced after her.

  Alone in the throne room for the first time, Niamh felt unsure of what she should do. The throne loomed majestic and inviting. Checking no-one was around, she stepped closer.

  "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

  Niamh spun around.

  "Aarin!" One hand touched her throat, and she let out a little laugh. "You scared me!" Her racing heart left her breathless, and she flushed.

  "Don’t check out someone else's throne.” Aarin’s hair swung down to his waist. He shook his head. “It’s bad form."

  "I was just curious. I don't want to sit on it or anything awful like that. I've heard the tales, and I'm not stupid."

  "Fine, you're not stupid, you’re just an imbecile." He winked.

  Niamh rolled her eyes. "Where have you been anyway?"

  "Bathing and eating, just like you I assume."

  "Was your bath-"

  "Bottomless? Yeah." His eyes crinkled with the beginning of a smile, but the laugh she saw hidden there stopped short.

  They fell into an uncomfortable silence. Niamh wondered how he'd gotten here unnoticed, but before she could ask he leaned in and whispered, “I saw her, the Lady, with Caeednce."

  "Just now? But she was here."

  "I know,” Aarin stepped closer than was comfortable. Niamh stared at his throat as he said, “Look, all I know is that Caeednce is far more important than we had her pegged for.”

  "One doesn't usually describe friends as nobodies," Niamh retorted.

  "Look, I know I'm bossy and worse, but this is serious. We're travelling with someone who was there, you know, back then."

  "Back when? You’re not making much sense!"

  "Aarin, here you are!" Iilen hugged both her and Aarin in one sweeping movement.

  "We should leave this place," said Jomen sombrely, hanging back.

  "Always the life of the party,” said Iilen. Niamh shoved off his lingering arm.

  "Where is Caeednce now?"

  "With me." Another voice sounded from the same doorway. Veayre stepped forward revealing Caeednce behind her.

  "We should get moving,” Veayre said, glancing around the empty hall. “I'm with Jomen on this one."

  But it was too late. Just as they rushed for the exit, hundreds rushed in. Whispers of hundreds echoed around the giant hall. Niamh looked to Caeednce in fright. Caeednce stepped closer, leaning her head against Niamh's shoulder. As a group, they huddled, all desperate for some sign they could understand what was happening. The original scout appeared in the crowd. Niamh pushed Caeednce away, and past Jomen and Iilen who blocked her way.

  "Hey!" She aimed to catch him as he rushed by but misjudged his objective. He was aiming for them as well. Slamming straight into him, Niamh grabbed his shoulders to steady herself. When they had both righted themselves, he spoke over the dull roar of the crowd.

  "Big news. We are to be given new orders. Changes- in the north- the stars- it can only mean-"

  "Silence!"

  A voice boomed across the room, and like a rock plunging into water, the noise in the hall vanished. Only the swish of fabric could be heard as so many silk-wearers sat down.

  "I don't need to explain to you all the gravity of the circumstance we find ourselves in. Times have changed. We have known this for years, years that kept us lonely and isolated. But now, that loneliness makes us wise. Firstly, you-" she pointed one graceful hand, dripping with pearls and orange blossoms, straight at Niamh and her companions. "You-will leave us. Provisions and maps will be given."

  She turned her eyes to the nameless scout, who stood at attention. His shoulders could go no further back and his chin lifted way higher than Niamh thought necessary. He hadn’t been caught by surprise when the Lady suddenly addressed him.

  "Take them outside, put them on the path to Asturg.”

  "Oh!" his face flushed bold red, and he spluttered, "well, go on then!" and flapping his hands he herded them out of the hall.

  But it wasn't as simple to get around as it had been before. Like a kicked ant nest, the nocturnal folk of Traot Crurg swarmed out from t
heir caverns and caves, trying to hear what was being spoken in the Great Hall. Niamh let the scout herd them away reluctantly, she wanted to hear the news too! Why did they have to be sent away so soon?

  They shuffled forward, careful of the path's edge. Veayre bumped into a cluster of glowing mushrooms at shoulder level, and they fell to the floor, lightless.

  "Careful!" the scout chided.

  "It's either that or the edge!" retorted Aarin. He touched Veayre's shoulder and tried to hug her with one arm, but she shrugged him away, hurrying forward.

  Sparkling eyes and silver silk rushed by them, and Niamh marvelled that no one fell to their death. Why have such a place? With death such an easy accident?

  "Ahhh!"

  A shriek split the cavern, and Niamh jerked into the wall. She ripped her silk sleeve wide open and a rough graze splashed across her now bare shoulder. Beads of blood bubbled to the surface. Who had screamed? Then she saw Caeednce's eyes, wide and frightened. In slow-motion, she saw Aarin spinning and reaching.

  Forgetting her arm she lurched forward, reaching her hands out just as Aarin did. He lay on his stomach, muscles flexed through his flimsy shirt, arms grabbing a hold of-

  "Jomen!"

  "Help me!" Aarin spat, all his strength focussed on keeping hold of Jomen's arms.

  Niamh threw herself down and reached over. Nothing, then slap! She hit Jomen's arm! Grabbing hold, she and Aarin tried to haul the skinny boy up. He tensed his arms, but they made no progress. He wasn't plunging into a pit of weaponised crystals, but they weren't rescuing him either. Sparkling eyes began to back up either side of them on the path. They were blocking the way. Without speaking, their eyes flashed red like fire. Niamh turned down to Jomen, who didn't speak, didn't cry out anymore, just hung there looking up at them, helpless.

  Niamh didn't have the strength to pull him up, even with Aarin’s help. Her ears pricked. A hum echoed. Around them, one Traot Crurg after another joined the chant. Rhythmic and subdued, Niamh smarted at the sudden changes around them. Were they singing his death-song? But no, she saw it now, the water around them, trickling as before, but it changed direction. It moved towards her and fell down toward Jomen. Like the pearls that graced the Lady's arms, the water beaded and formed lines. Her arms tired.