The Broken Bow

by C D Beaudin

  It’s bleak. But there is still a haunting beauty to be seen, even among the shadows. Perhaps her rendezvous with Karak have taught her to see differently. Uh, just thinking about him makes her shiver. She feels so guilty about what she said to him last night. Her heart feels heavier, her mind clouded.

  Perhaps she’s insane.

  But that can’t change the fact that she might be falling for him, into a dangerous, empty cavern that never ends and if it ever does…she’ll fall into whatever torment haunts the dead.

  Her thoughts are interrupted by a familiar voice.

  “Awyn, it’s time.”

  She turns to see Kepp standing there and nods as she walks off after he leaves.

  Returning to her room, a young girl scurries, placing clothes on the bed and pouring water into a wooden bath. Her blonde hair is ruffled, loosely done up, with strands falling into her face that she continuously blows out of the way. The plain white dress is paired with a brown apron tied tightly around her extremely thin waist.

  “Hello.”

  The girl jumps at Awyn’s voice. She turns to see her, then is immediately flustered and hurries to straighten her clothes and fix her hair.

  “Oh, hello, Your Highness. I am—”

  “Mora, right? The daughter of my mother’s maid.”

  The girl looks surprised.

  Awyn smiles. “I remember. You were six when my uncle took over.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “Please, if you are to be my maid, then we should be on a first name basis.”

  Mora’s eyes widen in equal surprise and shock as they had earlier. “Really?”

  Awyn smiles. “Of course.” She slips off her cloak, placing it on the bed and turns to the fifteen-year-old. “But on one condition.”

  “Yes?”

  “I bathe alone.”

  Mora nods and exits the room.

  Awyn takes a deep breath, slipping her dress off, and stepping into the bath. Beside her on a wooden stool, soaps and different beauty supplies sit. She looks through them, unsure what they even are.

  Privacy from her maids and guards is something she’s going to have to fight for. Monarchs don’t usually step foot out of bed without a maid rushing to their feet, but Awyn is used to doing things herself, and this is something she doesn’t plan on changing.

  But she won’t take the jobs from the servants, and she plans on hiring more. Though, many servants and guards alike only roam the palace since the royal family went away. Her first order of business as queen will be organizing the palace staff.

  Looking through the various brushes and stone items, she recognizes one of the beauty supplies. A special kind of stone that is rough—her mother used it for exfoliation. And she recognizes the soap.

  Grabbing the stone, she rubs it on the soles of her feet. She uses the soap all over and gives her body and hair a rinse before stepping out of the bath and wrapping a towel around herself.

  In her silk robe, she sits at her vanity, scrunching her hair dry. She digs into the drawer and brings out a few eye paints. Choosing a silver, Awyn pats it on her eyelids. She plays with a black charcoal stick, something she’s only ever done when she was really little. She lines her eyes, the black turning out surprisingly presentable. Awyn puts her hair up off her neck and face, then braids a strand of her hair and wraps it around her updo, a strand of her curly hair falling along her ear.

  Standing, she takes off her robe and holds up one of the three dresses Mora laid out for her. One is ruffled and laced intricately, with pink chiffon and satin. Another is gold and sparkly. But the last one is the only one she’d ever step foot in, and she finds herself actually liking it. It’s silver and a fitted style, fanning out at the knees. At the shoulders a long, sheer cape of the same color flows.

  After putting it on, she slips on a pair of silver heels, puts in the same colored earrings, and heads out the door.

  Outside the throne room she can barely breathe. She is ushered by some servants into a side chamber, where she will walk out onto the dais and be presented the crown and give her speech. Tomorrow she will address the army privately after the public ceremony.

  Okay, you can do this. Just look at the back of the room and concentrate on what you memorized. You’ll be fine.

  “M’lady, are you ready?” Mora asks.

  Awyn turns to her. “I’m shaking. I don’t know if I’m ready for this.” I’m only eighteen.

  Her servant places a small hand on her shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”

  Awyn smiles gratefully, but now her mind is clouded with different thoughts.

  How can I become queen and fight for everything that is good while I kiss one of the worst men to walk the earth? How can I rule when my heart is broken from Aradon’s betrayal? How can I ever be the monarch my people deserve when I don’t deserve them?

  In the middle of these thoughts the door opens unexpectedly, and she’s met with candlelight and guards to escort her to the throne. Her dress’s train and cape shimmer as they trail behind her, and she’s acutely aware of the heat of the bodies crowded in the room. Before she knows it, she’s walking onto the dais, scores of eyes watching her. She can feel beads of sweat dot her neck and forehead.

  Come on, get it together.

  The priest walks beside her. She looks at him, but he gestures for her to look forward.

  “Kneel.” His voice is much harsher than the one in Rohidia, but he isn’t mean.

  Awyn does as she’s instructed. She can sense the crown hover only a foot above her head. And feel the priest’s white robe brush against her arm.

  This is it. The moment I’ve been waiting for.

  The priest begins the ascension.

  “Princess Awyn, daughter of King Daron and Queen Adara, do you accept this crown today as a symbol of your leadership over this country and its people?”

  “Yes.” Awyn closes her eyes for a moment, relieved the word came out steadier than her thoughts.

  “Princess Awyn, do you accept this crown today, knowing that the protection and wealth you seek will not be yours, but your people’s?”

  Awyn swallows. “Yes.”

  “Princess Awyn, do you accept that your people come before you at any time, at any place, and that you will defend them with your last breath?”

  He is saying the king’s ascension, not a queen’s.

  “I accept that. I swear it upon my parents’ graves, and my own,” she says, steady and cool.

  “Then, Princess Awyn of Mera, daughter of King Daron, and Queen Adara, I now crown thee, Queen Awyn of Mera.”

  Awyn’s breath catches as she feels the silver crown weigh on her head. She stands and looks out onto the watching citizens of Kevah. Their shriveled, tired bodies make her wince in sadness.

  “Normally, I would be sitting on that throne now,” she says. “It may not be traditional for a Meran monarch to give a speech, but this isn’t one. It’s a promise, a truth, whatever you want it to be for yourself.” Awyn exhales silently.

  “I lost my father, and my mother, in the span of one week. That same week I was locked up by my uncle, whom everyone here trusted with their lives. You were betrayed.” The words are blunt but true. “And then we found out that Tamon, not only took over as regent, but also allied with Revera.” She closes her eyes for a moment.

  “I was in that cell for nine years. Nine years of pain, loneliness, and torture. It was terrible. In the earlier years I was in there, I had hope. But then time went on, and the older one gets, the more the hope fades.” She scans the room, her people intently listening.

  “Wanting to die every day, it takes a toll on one’s soul. I tried many times to end it, to end my suffering. But now I believe that it wasn’t only Revera’s magic that kept me alive.” Awyn looks at everyone with grateful eyes. “It was you. There was a small crack in the stone walls. My cell was deep in the mountain, but still light filtered through. In the winter time it would cause the cell to get colder, but even that
frost gave me light, and in an unusual way, gave me the smallest amount of hope.

  “Then the day came. Four months ago, I was brought out of the cell and was destined to die by the hand of my uncle. But the Spirits had other plans…or maybe I did.” She takes a deep breath. “It was all of you who fueled my escape. It was you who kept me running into the Dark Woods. It was all of you who kept me on my journey back to Kevah, back to our home.”

  She shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes.

  “I am so thankful to all of you. You kept me alive. You kept me persisting. I want to be a queen my father would be proud of. I want to be a leader you can trust. I may be eighteen, I may not have a husband to lean on, but I know I have you. And I have them.”

  Awyn gestures to the front row, where her siblings, and Saine, Hagard, and Ethiah stand. “They helped more than any of you can ever know. They guided me, protected me, saved my life. They are my family.”

  Awyn exhales. “I know in the past my family has failed you. But I promise this, these brave men and women will protect you, because they love me, and I love them. What happened nine years ago, will never happen again. I promise you, I will protect you with my last breath.

  “I’ve lost so much at the hands of Revera. I’ve lost my parents. My future. My home. Along my journey I’ve lost friends. I can remember their faces. One of them was killed in this very room.”

  Awyn clasps her wrist with her left hand behind her back, the stance of a Meran warrior.

  “I will make sure your children never go through what I’ve been through. No one should see as much death as I have. So much suffering.” She closes her eyes, regaining herself. “I promise you, I will fight until this war is over, even if I have to die.” She nods and sits on the throne. Applause rises from the crowd, and Awyn can see the smiles on her friends’ faces.

  The doors burst open. Everyone jumps and gasps at the sudden noise. Awyn stands as a dark figure emerges from the doorway. His body is draped in a black cloak, his face in shadow. The guards take out their swords, and the twins, Saine, and Hagard take out their weapons.

  The person walks to the center of the room, still in the aisle, facing Awyn. He flips his hood back, and Awyn is horrified to see who stares at her now.

  “Well, this is a party,” the man taunts, his voice smoother than usual.

  Awyn glances at her friends, who are equally shocked to see Aradon standing there.

  “Aradon, what are you doing here?” Her voice shakes.

  “Well, naturally I’d be here for the celebration, but a certain witch asked if I could kill you, so I’ll be doing that instead.”

  The guards rush to him. In a few moments they are all on the ground, unconscious.

  Aradon smirks.

  Awyn feels her face blanching white with horror.

  “What are you doing?” she can barely speak.

  He cocks his head. “I’m just doing what the sorceress said. You see, I woke up in a cave. Not sure how I got there.” He frowns. “There’s a…lapse, in my memory, not sure why, but I feel like I’ve missed some things over the span of years, but that’s impossible. I woke with an aching hunger for blood, something I feel has been missing for many years.” He takes a step closer, and this time it’s Eldowyn and Kepp who step forward, but they don’t take action.

  The Red Warrior sighs.

  “When will you ever learn? You can’t stop me, I’m invincible.”

  Eldowyn’s eyes are narrow. “You are no immortal.”

  Aradon smiles. “And yet I’m here…now. Explain that.”

  Eldowyn stays silent.

  “Aradon, why are you doing this?” Awyn asks.

  The Besged looks at her.

  “Why does anyone do anything? For money? For power? It’s never for anyone else, only for yourself. Revera promised me my kingdom, and I’m going to get it. Even if I have to kill everyone on this cursed planet—and Revera—to do it.”

  Awyn steps down, much to her brothers’ dismay.

  “What happened to the Bowman?” she asks quietly, looking into his blue eyes.

  He looks down at her.

  “Who’s the Bowman?”

  In a split second she feels a knife cut through her stomach. She cries out, and that’s when her brothers, Saine, and Hagard jump into action. The people of Kevah have already left screaming, leaving only them in the throne room, and the bodies of unconscious guards around them. Ethiah and Adriel rush to Awyn, getting her out of the way.

  Across the room Aradon is on the attack. Slashing and stabbing mindlessly, and yet every move he makes is perfectly calculated.

  “What did she do to you?” Eldowyn grunts under Aradon’s hold.

  “Revera did nothing to me.” Aradon’s thrown off by Kepp, who lunges at him with his knife.

  Saine shoots an arrow his way, but it’s dodged by the skilled Red Warrior. Hagard charges at him but is knocked out by one punch from Aradon.

  The Red Warrior faces the three standing. Saine and Kepp’s arrows are pointed at him, while Eldowyn has his sword ready.

  “Why, Aradon?” Saine asks.

  Aradon shakes his head, confused.

  “Why are you all so intent on me? Why do you care that I’m the one sent to murder you?”

  Eldowyn’s sword relaxes at his side.

  “Because we’re your friends, Aradon. We have saved each other, killed for each other. Don’t you remember the Kawa? Cia Ro? Anything?” He gestures to the dwarf. “He was with us. It was you, me, and Hagard.”

  The dwarf nods. “Aye. You and I are old pals. You pay for me beer, I supply you wit information.”

  Eldowyn steps forward. “How can you not remember?”

  Aradon’s eyes darken.

  Inside Aradon’s head, thoughts are scrambling.

  How is that possible? I was sent to kill Lily, and then I fell. I woke up in the cave. When did meeting them happen?

  They’re lying to me. Revera is lying to me. Who is lying to me?

  He feels far away, as if in a different realm.

  Why do I think I know them? They are my friends?

  No, I don’t have friends.

  But if I don’t know them…why didn’t I kill Awyn? I had the chance, but I hesitated.

  He shakes his head, not allowing their lies in.

  “You liar.” He points his sword at the fair-haired elf. “Most of the time, I don’t care about my victims at all. But I sort of hate you now.”

  “Aradon, please!” Awyn’s voice is strained from her blood loss.

  A small elf who seems vaguely familiar too is doing everything she can to control the bleeding. A healer of some kind perhaps.

  He looks at her. “I don’t understand why you know me. So just shut up and let me kill you.” He swings his sword at the blond elf first.

  The elf falls to the ground, and the other one rushes to him.

  A flash of wood. A bedroom. The brown-haired elf over the fair-haired. Sword. Blood. People rushing out. A familiar face—Kaniel.

  Aradon stumbles back. Was it another memory? What is happening to him? He doesn’t usually taunt like this, talk this much when he’s fighting. He just gets it done. But he cares. He needs to give them something more than the unfeeling Red Warrior persona. He looks at the elves, then at another man, who looks at him with piercing brown eyes. He knows those eyes.

  “The Plainsman?” he asks.

  It’s coming back to him now. Saine looks at him in surprise.

  “What the heck are you doing with them?”

  “Trying to be good,” Saine answers truthfully.

  Aradon studies him. “Why?”

  “Because of her.” Saine points at his lady love, who is flustered, soothing the princess.

  Aradon looks back at him, amused. “Love is a waste of talent. Especially ours.”

  Saine’s eyes narrow at Aradon’s comment. “You don’t remember Sefa?” Saine asks.

  “Mm, nope,” Aradon says casually.

  Sain
e shakes his head. “Who are you?”

  “Slayer,” he says with a small shrug. He jumps onto Saine, knocking them both to the ground. They grapple, fighting for control, but Aradon wins. He pins the Plainsman to the ground.

  “Ah, let’s see how to make this painful, shall we?” He takes out Saine’s knife. “Killed by your own knife, oh I do so love irony.”

  He’s about to stab Saine in the chest when a bright light flashes, knocking Aradon off Saine with unnatural force. He hits the wall, hard. The others cover their eyes, but don’t have to for long when the light fades, and a woman stands.

  Tears instantly come to the eyes of Saine’s love, the elven men, and Awyn when they see the woman standing there.

  Raea looks at Aradon, her eyes piercing him.

  Confusion overcomes him, seeing her here, now. “I…I killed you.”

  “You tried. But even the Slayer can’t kill the light.” Her eyes shine white.

  Red light comes from within his body. Her hand stretched out, the light is pulled out of him, and he falls to the ground, weakened but still able to see what she does next.

  Raea turns to her sons. Of course, that’s who they are. “Have him locked up. He’s still unstable, but Revera’s magic has been cast out.”

  Eldowyn and Kepp don’t say anything—those are their names, he now remembers—it would seem they can’t say anything. Their eyes dart from Raea to Aradon, anger twisting their gaze and their expressions. They never knew, he thinks. None of them knew Revera sent me to kill her eighteen years ago.

  His eyes look to Awyn and Adriel—he remembers the violet-eyed elf’s name. While Awyn is clearly riddled with pain, hatred and anger fills the blue of her eyes, and Adriel’s pale face is as contorted as her brothers’.

  His chest tightens. His breathing is heavy, and he feels odd. Probably a normal thing after having magic cast out of you. I forgot everything.

  Aradon’s attention is drawn back to the twins.

  “Mother,” Eldowyn manages to say.

  Raea smiles softly.