by N M Zoltack
Sabine raised her hand. “Are more ships to come?”
“Perhaps.”
“What do those who just arrive plan to do?”
The Vincanan grinned and sat back in her chair. "I would assume killing as many of you as possible."
“I would like to know a plan, details, specifics…”
The prisoner shrugged. “Let me go, and I’ll join up with them.”
“I will never free you.”
“Walls, bars… nothing can trap me.” The Vincanan’s grin only grew. “I am where I’m supposed to be.”
Nothing Sabine could say or ask would get the Vincanan to say anything worthwhile, and Sabine left the room to talk to another prisoner. She made the rounds as did Rosalynne, speaking to all four. Only after the prisoners had been returned to their cells did the two queens retire to a tea room to converse.
“The male with the scar on his face told me that the Vincanans plan on attacking the castle in a week,” Sabine said.
“It’s supposed to be today or tomorrow according to our earlier intelligence,” Rosalynne said.
“Did he mention the week to you?” Sabine asked.
“He told me a fortnight, actually. The woman with no hands told me nothing of importance. She just threatened me.”
“And me,” Sabine murmured.
The man with a blue eye and one green said they had ships arriving any day now to attack the major cities of Tenoch,” Rosalynne said.
“He told me that every ship in their fleet was heading for Atlan,” Sabine said, shaking her head. “He had to know we would speak. Why give us contradictory information instead of just telling us a single story? That story could be a lie, of course, but this deception seems a little…”
“He’s playing us. It’s all he can do. Besides, he might not realize we would be talking considering—”
“We’re meant to be enemies,” Sabine finished. “The last one, the bald male, told me that one of the Vincanans had been living in the castle since they first broke inside.”
“There is no way that is true,” Rosalynne protested. “And he told me that they sabotaged our ships, but I know that is not the truth because all of our ships are manned and ready and had moved into position for the arrival of their fleet.”
“All lies, all of it. We learned nothing at all since we already knew the Vincanans could not be trusted.” Sabine grimaced, realized her mother would yell at her for creating lines on her face, and grimaced even harder.
“I wonder… Do you think the threat of execution would help?” Rosalynne asked.
“The threat of execution? You are not your father, are you?”
Rosalynne’s cheeks colored.
“The threat of executions or actually executing one would not make a difference,” Sabine assured her. “They already believe they’re dead. That is why they will not tell us the truth. They have no reason to, and there is nothing we can give them that would make it worth their while.”
“I don’t want to kill them,” Rosalynne said, as if admitting this was a weakness. “But then, well, food is already scarce, and we have to provide for ourselves, our guards, our knights, our people…”
The younger princess stood, nodded, and swept out of the room.
While ruthless was not an apt word to describe Rosalynne, she was not a target either, and Sabine was almost glad the other queen was becoming a worthy competitor.
44
Rase Ainsley
The physician Rase had blackmailed into helping the peasants must have been one of the first to flee Atlan because Rase could not locate the man no matter where he looked. No one could tell him where the physician had taken his family either, and Rase had no choice but to look elsewhere.
He had only a single necklace left that he had intended to give his ma for the anniversary of the day she had given birth to him, only a few days away, but now that she was dead… Rase could give the necklace to his sister instead, but why would he do that? He could try to steal or secure another piece for her. Her staying alive was far more important than any necklace.
It’s not as if I want to bury her with it around her neck.
Burying his ma… That had been one of the hardest things Rase had done. A part of him had wanted to wait until after he found a physician to tend to Leanne, but she had refused. He had taken off his shirt and made her hold it against her wound. Only after the bleeding stopped did he go out to dig a hole.
Rase had cried with every shovel of dirt he cast aside. He bawled with every clump of dirt he then dropped onto his ma’s body. The entire time, he hadn’t said a word. Whenever he tried, his throat closing up, and the tears would pour down his face that much faster.
By the time he finished, it was already midday, and he gave Leanne the food he had brought home the night before. Once she had taken a few bites, he’d left to seek out that physician.
And failed.
He was so very desperate that the thought of going to Atlan Castle and begging for a royal healer to help crossed his mind, but no. It would take far too long to walk there, and these manors were all incredibly opulent. Whoever lived there would know where a physician could be located. By the Fates, one of the manors could even belong to one.
His knuckles quickly grew sore from knocking loudly against each door, but he did not stop. Blisters formed on his feet, but he kept on walking. Most of the doors remained shut, and he could not tell if the occupants were ignoring him or if they had fled the city too. One woman opened the door, took one look at him, and slammed it in his face. Only two had listened to his pleas, but they were not helpful in the least.
Once again, he walked up to a door and banged on it. “Please, open. I am looking for a physician. I need help. Not me. My sister. I can pay—”
The door opened, and a mop of brown hair and a scraggly beard appeared, the rest of the face coming into focus second.
“What’s wrong with her?” the man asked.
“She was attacked,” Rase said in a rush. “Are you a physician?”
“Not exactly.”
“He isn’t,” a voice called from inside the manor.
Or maybe this was more of a house. Rase’s eyes were tearing up, and he couldn’t quite see despite blinking furiously. This was taking far too long, and he didn’t have time to waste with idle gossip when his sister might not… might not…
“My husband is an apothecary,” a woman said, coming to stand beside her spouse. She was wiping her hands on a towel. “Don’t you look all ragged. Come on in. I’ll get you a—”
“He doesn’t need food or clothes or anything else, Romilda,” the apothecary said firmly. “Attacked, you say? What kind of wounds?”
“I don’t know. From a knife or dagger. Some kind of blade.” Rase gestured where his sister had been struck. “My ma…” He just shook his head.
“Oh, dear me. Where do you live, son?” Romilda asked.
Rase just blinked. “If you can help, sir, we need to go.”
“I’ll pack up a few things,” he said. “My bag is almost all packed already, just need…”
Mumbling, he rushed back into the house.
His wife moved to stand in the center of the doorway. I can pack up some food for you to bring with you, or I can pack up even more and some clothes and other items you might need and go to your house once I have everything. Which do you prefer?”
“Uh…” Rase gaped at her.
“Your house,” she prompted with a smile.
In a daze, he mumbled directions that might help her, might not, but the apothecary, who introduced himself as Alfwin Grieves, came out then, and they rushed away.
“I don’t have a horse anymore,” Alfwin apologized, “but I can move fast when I have to.”
“And you have to.” Rase was nearly running.
“I know.”
When they arrived, Leanne was awake but not quite. She was rather out of it, unable to answer any questions unless they required a nod or a shake of h
er head. Rase held her hand as the apothecary examined her wound.
“A knife to be sure, a serrated one at that,” Alfwin muttered.
“Is that good or bad?” Rase asked, worried.
“It means the cut isn’t straight but more jagged. Don’t you worry. The bleeding has mostly stopped. I can seal the wound with herbs and a paste. I’m more worried about the use of her arm, but we won’t test that until the skin has closed over it entirely. Do you understand?” he asked Leanne.
She blinked, her eyes dull.
“Do not move your arm,” Rase told her.
Alfwin nodded. “I can make a device to pin her arm to her so she won’t be tempted to use it.”
Romilda arrived shortly thereafter. While her husband created the paste, Romilda washed Leanne’s body as best as she could, fussing about her, forcing Rase outside. When he was allowed back in, Leanne had one a new simple dress, courtesy of Romilda, and the strangely sweet-smelling paste was already applied.
Alfwin used strips of cloth to bind Leanne’s arm in place. “There. She should heal so long as she doesn’t do too much.”
“Thank you,” Rase said. He reached for his purse.
Romilda touched his arm. “We’ve been asked to move into the barracks to serve the knights and guards, so I don’t know how much more help we can be. Keep your coins.”
Rase closed his eyes to compose himself. When he opened them, the Grieveses were gone.
For nearly a week, Rase had done everything he could for Leanne, even to the point of ignoring Radcliff Snell. While it seemed as if she was healing physically, Leanne was clearly not right. Every night, her sleep was restless, and she would cry out and sometimes even scream. No amount of prompting would get her to share what had troubled her so.
Worse than the nightmares was the fact that Leanne would not eat. Something was clearly wrong with her, and Rase wasn’t about to deal with the physician search again. The Grieveses were busy helping the army, so Rase headed to the shops, to Mermaid’s Tears.
The alchemist glanced up as soon as he entered. The sign on the door said the store was closed. He held up the necklace, grateful he hadn’t given it to Leanne yet.
“I need something for my sister.”
“What exactly does she need?”
“She… Almost a week ago, she and my ma were attacked. My ma… she…”
The alchemist nodded.
“My sister was hurt here. An apothecary healed her, but… she won’t eat, and she has nightmares, and her eyes… She’s not herself. There’s something wrong.”
“Let me see…” The alchemist held up a finger and went into the back of the store, through a door, and vanished from sight.
Rase glanced around. Almost all of the shelves were barren. Why wasn’t the alchemist making more wares to sell? She must be hurting because of the war.
Or maybe she was helping the army too. He supposed that was possible. No matter. As long as she could help Leanne, that was all he cared about.
The alchemist returned to him and handed him a large vial. “One swallow in the morning and in the evening every day without fail until it’s all gone.”
“That could take a month or longer!” he protested.
“Yes,” the alchemist said evenly, “but know this. Sometimes, what a person needs isn’t a potion or medicine. Your sister might need time.”
Rase scowled. “Time? Are you a bobolyne? A fool? There is something seriously wrong with Leanne, and time will not heal her!”
“Which is why I gave you the potion,” the alchemist said calmly.
Rase gripped the vial so tightly he risked it shattering in his palm. In his other hand was the necklace yet.
“You can keep—”
The young man was already leaving the shop. He wasn’t about to pay the alchemist when she seemed like a crook.
“This might work, but it might not,” he said mockingly as he hurried to the shack.
As soon as he arrived, he placed the necklace on Leanne’s neck. He tried to coax her to eat and got her to drink the single drop. He’d contemplated not even giving her the potion at all, but she looked through him, didn’t talk to him, ignored the necklace… She was there, but not entirely, and it plagued Rase greatly to see her so. Hopefully, between the potion and his care, and maybe even Fate-forsaken time, she would heal and return to him and be the sister he needed her to be.
45
Sir Edmund Hill
Despite his injury, as soon as the sun stirred him from his slumber, Edmund rolled out of bed. He gritted his teeth and suppressed a curse as he jarred the wound. He could feel it start to bleed again, and he stiffly changed the bandaging before heading to the castle.
It did not take him long to see that the fortification measures for the castle had all been implemented, but the delivery of vials from Tatum hadn’t arrived yet. Considering they had used so many during the battles the previous day, they lacked enough for another battle. Edmund was certain, beyond certain, that the fiends would be eager and ready to strike against Atlan Castle hard now that their numbers had swelled considerably.
Typically, Tatum always arrived with her shipment of vials about midday, but two hours past, she hadn’t arrived yet. There was no sign of their enemy approaching, so Edmund decided it would be worth it for him to slip away and locate her. Perhaps she had made too many and was struggling to transport them all, or maybe she hadn’t made as many as she wished to send and was stalling to make more. Regardless, they needed as many potions as she had made, and he would bring back what he could and return to the castle hopefully before the fighting would commence, although he prayed to the Fates that the Vincanans would hold off for one more day.
The knight rushed along the route Tatum would take from Mermaid’s Tears to the castle, hoping to run into her, but she was nowhere to be seen. He grimaced, gnashing his teeth together, and rushed inside the store.
There, sitting on the floor, was Tatum, her head in her hands.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, falling to his knee beside her.
“Edmund.” She lowered her hands and smiled at him wanly. “Why are you… Oh. Yes. The potions.”
“Do not worry. I’ll bring to the castle as many as you’ve made—”
“Edmund,” she said gently. “I’ve only had enough ingredients to make twenty.”
"Twenty? But we used your list and found you everything you require?"
She smiled, even if her eyes didn’t. “The list had two sides,” she murmured.
“Two sides,” he repeated dully.
“I’ve asked anyone and everyone to help me find them, but… everyone is too busy, and I was about to go out myself.”
“No one will help you. Not even Dudley,” he said flatly, not asking but stating the terrible notion as fact.
“Dudley,” she said bitterly. “He hasn’t been around. I haven’t any notion where he might be.”
Edmund thought quickly. “The attack on the castle should be later today or tomorrow. I… I wish I could go with you, I wish I could help…”
“You have your duty. I am failing mine.”
“No, you aren’t. How can you be expected to make hundreds of potions a day with no help, no assistance? No. No, this isn’t right. Here. Direct me to the twenty you made.”
He helped her to her feet, and she pointed to the basket he had given her as a wedding present.
“All made and ready to go, but twenty—”
“Is better than zero,” he said firmly. “Now, I can’t go with you, but stay here. I will send a few guards I trust to help you.”
“Edmund, the castle needs every man—”
“The entire point of the potions is to make every man more like two, yes? To increase our strength, our endurance. The potions are every bit as vital as the number of guards and knights we have. Besides, the Vincanans are on the move, and it is dangerous for anyone to go out alone. Please, wait for the guards.”
“Edmund…”
&nb
sp; “Yes?”
She pursed her lips. “Send them to the forest just above Arlingway River.”
“I don’t like the idea of you going alone,” he protested.
“Then I suggest you go and hurry to the barracks or castle or wherever you will find these guards,” she said evenly.
“You’re mad at me for wanting to keep you safe.”
“I’m mad that you are delaying me, and I need to not only secure the ingredients. I then need to make the potions to completion.”
“You could just let me give them the list and—”
“I’m already off. If you had come here two minutes later, I wouldn’t have been here.” She wrapped a shawl around her.
“Very well,” he grumbled. “You are beyond frustrating.”
“As are you.” Tatum hesitated and then kissed his cheek. “I know you’re only looking out for me, but please, respect me. Trust me. I can handle myself.”
“The Vincanans are not to be trifled with.”
“Precisely why the castle needs you to help defend it. Go.”
She opened the door, waited for him to leave, and shut it. Without another word, she rushed away.
Muttering to himself, Edmund raced back to the castle. He begged the Fates to watch over her, for the battle to wait for him, for the battle to wait until after the guards assisted Tatum with the rest of her potions.
So many wants. Too many wants. What were the chances that any of them would come true?
46
Garsea
The day dawned, and Garsea’s ankle throbbed as he hobbled about the kitchen to prepare himself a meal. He hadn’t the strength to do much of anything, so perhaps substance would assist him.
But the bread and cheese rested heavy in his stomach, and it was all Garsea could do to not be sick. He was not right, and he grieved his friend terribly. Yes, he had argued with Velasco perhaps more than he should have, but he never wished for the Keeper to suffer such a fate.
Suffer. How Garsea’s outlook had changed now that he knew one of his friends was doomed to be a wraith for the rest of time. Previously, Garsea had always thought that those turned into wraiths should be grateful they had not been killed outright by the dragons. By being a wraith, they were given a second chance. Yet, for Velasco… it just seemed and felt so very wrong.