by Viviene Noel
‘Can we not train instead? I am bored and if I don’t occupy myself I’ll grow restless and do something you’ll consider stupid.’
Emmerentia lifted her hands in the air. ‘Alright. But try not to get your ribs broken.’ As they stood and made for the tent flaps, she rested a hand on Mahena’s shoulder, suddenly serious. ‘If you feel anything strange, stop immediately.’
She’d never have let Mahena do this a couple of weeks ago, would have never let her interact with anyone freely. It warmed her heart.
They started with simple drills, jabs and dodge. They usually alternated close hand combat with swords and shields and then twin daggers.
It had become a lot more fun now that she wasn’t treated like the pest anymore.
Few people were training when they arrived, yet when they stopped to drink and rest for a few seconds, the dedicated space had filled, as though their ‘fresh’ energy had rallied their fumbling one. Men and women and teenagers getting back in gear. It almost felt like a chant and she wasn’t expecting the influx of energy that barrelled into her as they swapped partners, almost as if dancing.
The day rose and fell.
Mahena settled into a place within herself. A sort of quiet, focused, free space where her mind cleared thoughts of all except the weapons of her opponent and her own. It was peaceful, and familiar somehow.
But then, as she drifted into a land she had no control over, the man opposite feinted and she failed to notice in time.
His sword went right up to skewer her. It was perfect. A beautiful strike.
Her body moved.
It leaned backwards onto her hands and flipped. Her feet connected with the man’s chin, as her hand unsheathed the dagger at her belt—flying forward for his heart.
It embedded itself in Emmerentia’s shield instead.
She’d thrown herself between them.
Mahena seethed as she straightened back up. The man was lying on the floor, startled and breathing. Why was he alive?
The little voice stirred, cheering at the anger. Kill or die. Kill or die. Kill or die.
The filthy, piece of—
The silence reached her. The absence of weapons clinging.
Emmerentia was walking towards her, hands held up. ‘Mahena, calm down.’
Mahena just pointed her finger at the man, seething. ‘He tried to kill me. Why did you stop me?’ She could feel the rage in her voice, the rage in her eyes.
She snarled in Emmerentia’s face when the twin tried to grab her shoulders. ‘Alright. It’s fine. He didn’t mean it.’
Kill or die. Kill or die. Kill or die.
Mahena stared down the twenty or so people in the sparring circle.
Instead of murdering all of them, she spat on the floor and left.
B
Emmerentia had spent the best part of the evening apologising to the man her friend had almost just impaled, yelling at him for being so forward with new sparring partners, and bargaining with the instructor of the ring to shut up about it. It had been reckless and stupid, and for a man his age, he should have known better than to let his enthusiasm get so out of control—she’d seen the movement, it could have been fatal.
The thread tugged and pulled and somehow...cried out. She forced herself to let the girl go, somehow knowing she would come back and only had to clear the fog in her mind.
That...move—fast, precise, hard. It had been the same phenomenon that happened at the farm, when the twin had gone harder with cunning at the back of her mind and Mahena had put her on her ass in a matter of a heartbeat. Emmerentia knew she wasn’t lying about it. Who would? The girl liked training too much to fake being so lame in comparison to that display.
She wouldn’t whisper a word of it to the guys, unless they brought it up. Things were complicated enough, and she didn’t feel like listening to another lecture from her brother.
Emmerentia crossed her hands behind her head as she laid awake on her cot, alone in the tent. She hadn’t seen Fàaran display such open enthusiasm and joy in a long time, but she refused to let guilt trip her up—there was no obligation for him to remain by her side, he had done more than enough.
When Mahena came back, limping and dirty into the tent, Emmerentia asked her if she was physically fine.
Mahena nodded and fell on her assigned cot.
The twin only closed her own eyes. A flash of brown hair and feline, cunning green eyes, of anger and pain and relief. She knew perfectly well that that type of exhaustion came from only one place—and it was a place no one wished to discuss.
33
Mahena twitched on her bedroll, the rays of the rising sun piercing through the tent folds and shining a thin light in her eyes.
‘I can wait for an explanation, but you will have to talk about it.’
Mahena slowly stretched and came to a sitting position, twisting to face Emmerentia. Whatever she saw in her eyes made her add. ‘Those outbursts are too uncontrolled. You said you could control it, but you obviously can’t.’
Mahena clenched her jaw, breathing deeply. ‘Obviously.’
She knew it wasn’t her who had reacted, not the conscious part of her at least. But as she couldn’t honestly tell herself whether it was that damn thing inside of her or what she actually was and didn’t remember, there wasn’t much she could answer. And perhaps, only perhaps, that voice pulling and twisting and thrashing and murmuring was her.
She should explain, should confess what dwelled within her, but Mahena pushed the thought to the side for another time.
Emmerentia stretched in turn, her neck cracking loudly. Mahena glanced around the tent. ‘Where are the guys?’
As she spoke, they walked inside the tent.
A moment later, they all stood in the dim war tent around the oak table. A large map was spread before them, pawns and figures dispersed on it.
Mahena didn’t know what they had been up to for the last couple of days and, frankly, she couldn’t care less. Yet, she was fully aware that if the man now leaning on the table refused to aid them, they would have to rethink their entire strategy and the twins might decide to ditch her. The lands beyond the wall to Valàander were desolated, patrolled by Karaleen’s forces. But the born Flatlander knew his kingdom, and hopefully a secret solution to their dilemma. She had no doubt Fàaran had been pleading their case and the validity of their insane plan.
The twins spoke little of the Shadows. Mahena failed to remember even once when Fàaran had mentioned them. Emmerentia had briefly explained the race and their history, but they either didn’t want to say or didn’t know more.
Mahena’s gaze crossed Fàaran’s as the thought formed in her head. Maybe it was the way his eyes lit, or how he averted his gaze instantly, but another question formed in her mind then.
Did the older twin have some sort of involvement with the other side?
‘Would crossing Vasharli be safer?’ Fàaran asked, leaning over the map of the continent, pointing to a cluster of trees. He looked up at Darios standing across the table. ‘It would get us straight to the castle whilst avoiding open expanses.’
Darios replied, an indecisive grin on his harsh face, ‘They probably won’t be guarding the forest. No one is insane enough to enter it. Do you remember what inhabits those woods?’
Fàaran brushed his hair back with his fingers and Emmerentia cleared her throat. ‘Oh, we know.’
‘Then you know better than to wish for a three-week trek in that gods-damned forest.’
Mahena angled her head, silently reminding the twins she was no expert in all things Fanhalen.
‘Giant spiders and giant worms,’ Emmerentia quickly clarified.
Mahena shivered. ‘Dear Gods.’
Darios waved a hand over the map. ‘The mother arachnid reaches the size of a donkey, with a paralysing venom that will keep
prey awake as they devour it. The goars, on the other hand,’ he turned to Mahena upon the confused expression on her face, ‘are a kind of carnivorous worm that penetrate skin and feed on internal organs.’
‘Festive.’
Emmerentia pondered, ‘I assume open land isn’t an option?’
Darios smiled at her. ‘Only if you feel like dying with teeth sunk in your throat and hallucinogenic poison in your veins. In the best of cases.’ Mahena swore the twin bristled. ‘The queen posted sentries in and around the fields, in case something happens. As the princess managed to cast a spell, they believe magic can possibly still manifest.’
A short silence fell in the tent, all parties contemplating the possibilities of their journey.
‘Have you seen signs of that proving true?’
Darios answered flatly, ‘Magic? I do not have the gift, so I couldn’t tell. From reports, there seemed to have been a tremor about two months ago. Since then, nothing noticeable.’
When Mahena had arrived. That was another strange confirmation, wasn’t it?
‘Any indication on what it could have been?’ Emmerentia prompted, keeping her eyes on the captain.
‘Unfortunately, not. It could be so many things it is difficult to say. Its disappearance was strange enough in the first place. Who knows?’
It couldn’t, couldn’t be related to her, could it?
Another silence.
Fàaran broke it. ‘What is the other option? Do you have antidotes for the Gharans’ venom?’
Mahena imagined there would be a way of sucking the venom out were they unlucky enough to be bitten. The idea of sleeping in a place full of deadly crawlers, on the other hand...she wondered if she’d sleep at all. They had been travelling in the open for weeks now and she had accommodated to it better than she’d imagined. But giant insects? No, thank you, bye.
‘There might be. I can escort you to the borders of Hondora. Cross the kingdom in a straight line. If you pay them enough, you’ll be able to find someone who is rounding the continent that will get you close to the Southern part of Vasharli. If you sail close enough, then you might have only a few days to trek through.’
Fàaran levelled his friend with a stare that Mahena couldn’t interpret. ‘Is there no one else who can lead us? You are needed here.’
Darios tapped his battle-worn fingers on the table. ‘It has been quiet for the past week. And only I know the shortcut.’ The captain gazed at the map, shadows dancing there, shadows Mahena and the twins understood clearly. He sighed, ‘So much darkness has already soiled these lands’.
‘How bad is it?’ Emmerentia ventured.
Mahena felt her throat tighten, her tongue like rasp-paper as she swallowed down. The back of her head became heavy, her guts suddenly dropping into a curled ball.
You won’t, hissed the little voice.
Mahena twitched at the tug, at the viciousness. At the surety of the affirmation.
Darios only shook his head slowly. ‘We need help. Help that is not coming. We have sent emissaries, but we still await responses.’ He pointed to the Fairy territory. ‘The King has signed a treaty with the Shadow Queen to remain neutral. He will neither interfere nor help her, shielding his people completely from the map until the war is over. Our spies have confirmed he glamoured the entire kingdom into nothing. To have his warriors would balance the scale.’
Fàaran cursed, filthy and low, and Emmerentia echoed the sentiment.
Mahena bit her tongue, catching the surprised laugh before it got out. He expressed emotions so rarely every time was like a first.
They had mentioned magic was inherent to fairies. When it had fallen, they retained their body glamour, allowing them to modify their appearance amongst other things. She felt out of place to ask how rendering an entire kingdom invisible was possible without the full power of magic.
‘Why would he make a deal with her?’ The question slipped. She had stood in the shadows during the entire conversation, the entire stay, the twins answering questions for her and about her, and in a corner of her mind, it profoundly bothered her. Something twitched and twisted, wanting to stand out, to fend for itself, to state loud and clear that she wasn’t defenceless and lost—even if she was.
Darios looked at her. ‘They’re long-lived. He despises the human race as it is. He probably believes the Shadows are closer in nature to his people than we are.’
Fàaran stared at the map, his eyes cold with determination and rage, as though a mysterious answer would appear on the parchment if he stared long enough.
‘Not a single kingdom would send help? Not even foreign ones?’ Mahena asked, ‘Is there not a single ruler with ties in other lands?’
Emmerentia shot her a glare. Fàaran only clenched his jaw.
Darios, now leaning with his back against an oak drawer, smiled bitterly, ‘It appears we are now understanding our own foolishness in accepting and trading with monsters. Unless a miracle comes to pass, we are alone.’ He glanced towards Fàaran. ‘If I am to take you, we are leaving in an hour.’
B
As Darios left the tent, Fàaran on his heels, Emmerentia’s gaze shifted to Mahena. The woman held her stare. ‘What?’
Emmerentia leaned against the chest of drawers. ‘You are hiding something. And I think you have been hiding it from the beginning.’
Mahena stepped back, the intensity in her eyes shifting. That constant shadow hovering in her clear gaze, casting emotions foreign to her. She had noticed it two weeks ago now and had since then paid close attention to the variations in her eyes, on her face, at the slight changes in expression followed by a shake of the head, hard blinking, or utter surprise. She had come to trust Mahena sufficiently not to push for an explanation, going as far as allowing her to train with other people.
Of course, that had bitten her in the ass as well.
But it had also supported the fact that the longer they waited, the faster Mahena could act regrettably. It had just been luck that yesterday had not ended in bloodshed. Sheer luck. She didn’t want to begin to imagine the sad events that could have unfolded should Mahena have killed the man—Darios’ man. He could have killed her, but it was mainly because she had showcased good skills and the man had been poorly trained.
‘I have noticed for a while. As a sign of trust, I said nothing. But you almost killed someone yesterday.’ Emmerentia willed her face to soften, willed her voice to mellow. Whatever was happening, launching an outright attack would serve no purpose. ‘And it wasn’t you.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Mahena said defensively. She shifted on her feet and crossed her arms on her chest.
It took all of Emmerentia’s will to add, ‘I am not laying blame. I might be able to help.’
Mahena cocked her head to the side. ‘You haven’t told your brother, have you?’
So her instincts proved true. ‘I am giving you the chance to tell me, first.’
‘I don’t have to tell you everything. Privacy still applies in our situation.’ There. Something shuddered in her eyes as she squared off her shoulders. But what was it? Her buried subconscious? Her true personality coming back to her slowly?
‘Do you not trust me, now?’
Mahena’s shoulders relaxed, just a bit. She squinted at Emmerentia for a moment, as though she was trying to pierce through clothes and skin to her heart with merely her eyes. ‘Yes, I do.’
She cleared her throat. ‘However. We have had this conversation before and, as long as the information is in no regard relevant to the situation, I have no obligation to tell. You do not share your secrets either, might I remind you.’
‘Hmm,’ Emmerentia quirked her mouth to the side in answer.
It didn’t sit well, but it was fair enough.
‘I am going to sit outside.’ Mahena left the tent. As she disappeared through the
folds and into the day, Fàaran stepped back inside.
‘What’s wrong?’ Emmerentia asked immediately.
Her brother gestured to the seats in the centre of the large tent, prompting her to sit down. ‘I have a bad feeling.’
‘About travelling through warring lands? How surprising. What has Darios told you? You forget to share the details.’
‘I don’t want to share them in front of her.’ Fàaran still didn’t trust Mahena for reasons she found ridiculous. But it wasn’t her decision. It was never her decision. And she knew she couldn’t discuss the underlying reason. He continued, ‘We merely discussed the future of this camp and he updated me on the situation. But, I want reassurance before we go through with this.’
Emmerentia frowned. ‘You mean to turn around when we have travelled this far already?’
‘Not necessarily. There is a way to get some answers.’
They stared at each other for a moment, Emmerentia increasingly frustrated at the lack of forthrightness from her twin. ‘Why do you keep so much away from me? You are growing distant.’
‘And you are growing closer to her, more than safety demands.’
Something in her chest stirred at the accusation, words coated almost with disgust. She couldn’t, simply couldn’t understand why he was being so difficult. It was beyond his character, beyond the protective aspect of their relationship. He had decided she was a threat and had not tried once to be more than just civil. The more she dug around it, the more she lost herself in thoughts of utter nonsense.
‘What does it have to do with the rest of the journey? I am keeping her close, it is smarter than barely acknowledging her existence. What did he tell you?’
Fàaran blinked several times, usually a sign of annoyance, and how he kept his own thoughts quiet. But she knew that look. She said, ‘You want to stay, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes.’ When he lowered them, she added, ‘I am not holding you to any promises, Fàaran. You have done for me more than a brother is required to. We can meet again when I am through with this.’ She meant it, yet as the words left her lips, her heart tightened so hard in her chest she almost put a hand to it.