by Jody Hedlund
As my companions and I descended the trail, their cajoling and friendly banter kept me from thinking too gravely on my imminent departure. At this early hour, the streets were mostly deserted. The fishermen had already departed for the day in their boats, determined to catch their fill of the salmon, cod, and pollack that entered the fjords during the spring. A few tradesmen had begun the process of opening their shops, and the scent of smoked salmon permeated the air.
Upon reaching the longboat, I tossed my pack inside. It would serve as my seat whenever I rowed. Oars were at the ready, spaced evenly apart throughout the shallow hull. The small vessel needed a crew of eighteen, with nine men on either side. While I was accustomed to the larger royal longships, I understood the practicality of arriving at the Great Isle with anonymity, since we didn’t want to draw undue attention to ourselves and the fact we were princes. The Testing rules didn’t prohibit disclosing our true identities, but such a revelation could interfere with the end results.
The sun had crested the peaks by the time Mikkel made his way down the winding castle pathway. I was surprised to see that a dozen or more men accompanied him, including the king.
As I watched Mikkel converse with our father, unease chilled my skin as surely as the mist blowing off the fjord. I should have waited and walked with the king to the waterfront. I could have used the hour to solidify our relationship and maintain his goodwill.
When the entourage reached the wharf, the king embraced Mikkel. I could only watch with growing trepidation. Had Mikkel done more to earn our father’s and the Lagting’s favor than I’d realized?
As my older brother stepped away from Father and crossed toward me, something in his eyes seemed to challenge me—a glint that left no doubt he wanted to become the next king every bit as much as I did and that he would fight me to win the Testing.
Rather than challenging him in return, I gave him one of my usual easy grins. “Are you ready, my brother?” I summoned all the warmth and kindness I could muster.
“As ready as can be. You?”
“I would have another week or month or year before setting out.”
Mikkel didn’t smile in return. “Perhaps you would like to gain permission to be excused from the Testing?”
My grin slipped away. “I cannot abide any conflict between us, Mikkel. I would rather be excused from the Testing and give up any chance at being king than allow the quest to drive us asunder.”
Mikkel held my gaze for several heartbeats before he shifted his attention to the longboat and the sailor on the mast securing the rigging. “Forgive me for my impertinence. In the days to come, we must not lose sight of our affinity for each other. It is the Testing itself that will determine who is most worthy, and as such, we must accept the outcome.”
He was right. The Testing was the fairest way to determine our worthiness. We would have no squabbling or fighting or backstabbing between us. Rather than competing against each other, we would be competing against ourselves—our own weaknesses, our own struggles, and our own vulnerabilities.
“I pray Providence will smile upon you with your Testing,” I said. “You are a strong and determined man, and you will do well.”
This time when Mikkel met my gaze, the ice was gone. “Thank you. You are a good man, Vilmar. And I wish you all the best as well.”
Before we could say more, Father’s weapons master, Sir Axel, stepped forward and cleared his throat. He was a tall, bald man with a pointed black goatee. The scar running the length of his jaw lent him a fierceness that, in my childhood, had caused me to quake at his appearance. But after years of training under him, I’d ascertained he was not as hard on the inside as he was on the outside.
For several minutes, he relayed the rules of the Testing we’d already learned but that needed restating so no one could claim ignorance. “As always, the Testing involves many risks,” he finished in his deep, gravelly voice. “And this will likely involve greater risks than previous Testings due to the volatile situation on the Great Isle.”
“Volatile?” Kresten stood beside me with his feet spread and his arms crossed. He was slightly smaller than me, but he was undoubtedly the strongest of the three of us.
“Aye, Queen Margery can be quite unpredictable. If she discovers any of you on the Isle, there is no telling what she’ll do to you.” Sir Axel spoke to all of us, but he looked directly at me, since my Testing would be in the heart of her country.
I returned his gaze just as frankly. “Scania is at peace with Warwick. The queen has no grievance with us.”
“She doesn’t need a grievance. Your presence alone will be enough to raise her suspicion. If she learns of you, she may accuse you of spying or attempting to steal her precious gems. She won’t hesitate to fabricate lies to serve her own scheming.”
I had faith I could remain undetected in the gem mines. If the queen somehow discovered my presence, I would have to win her over like I did most people I met.
The king raised his hand, his many rings gleaming in the morning light. Sir Axel took the cue and bowed his head. “Your Majesty.”
“Please tread carefully, my sons.” The king’s serious gaze alighted upon each of us. “For if you do find yourself in conflict with Queen Margery, you know the rules of the Testing prevent me from sending our army to your aid.”
We nodded in response.
The king motioned toward three men wearing gray cloaks of coarse wool with large hoods that shielded their faces. “We had a difficult time locating scribes who are proficient with weaponry and subterfuge. But after searching the entire realm, we have picked a companion for each of you. Not only will they record the day-to-day occurrences of your Testing as is the custom, but they will step in to protect you if the need arises.”
“Your Majesty,” I said. “If I face danger and my companion rescues me, then of what benefit is the Testing?”
Sir Axel shared a look with the king as though they’d anticipated such a question.
Though I meant no disrespect, I had to speak up. “I beg your forgiveness, Your Majesty, Sir Axel. I cannot in good conscience accept the aid of my scribe—”
“Nor can I,” Kresten and Mikkel said at the same time.
Sir Axel stiffened as if preparing for battle. “They have been instructed not to step in to provide assistance unless you specifically ask for it or are at risk of losing your life.”
“Even then,” I protested, “I could not welcome the help. For surely I would rather perish than be known as a weak prince who couldn’t survive on his own.”
“Your courage is commendable.” The king shifted his thick royal robe of luxurious bearskin to reveal the sword his father had bestowed upon him at his Testing. “And I have faith each of you shall prevail. Nevertheless, we are ensuring your safety as best we can.”
As much as I wanted to argue with the king, I clamped my mouth closed and bowed my head. A moment later, Sir Axel began our introductions to our scribes. And when my companion stepped forward and lowered his hood, I breathed easier. The man was diminutive, thin, and foreign. I couldn’t discern his nationality, but from his olive skin, dark hair, and narrowed eyes, I suspected he hailed from one of the exotic nations in the East.
Such a small man could hardly be expected to be my bodyguard. And as a foreigner, would he know the language enough to write down my every action and word during the Testing?
He bowed low. “Your Highness, it will be my pleasure to serve you.”
At the smoothness of his greeting without a trace of a foreign accent, I startled. “Thank you . . .”
“My name is Tymur.” He switched seamlessly from Scanian to the language of the Great Isle. “But please, call me Ty.” Once again his inflection was flawless, perhaps even more so than my own, although my mother had spoken the native tongue of her people so often it was second nature.
“Very well, Ty,” I replied in the language of my mother’s people. It was as good a time as any to switch, since that’s all I would
speak in the months ahead. “I hope you are a fast writer, for I shall give you much to record.”
Ty stared blankly at me, clearly not much for jesting. And I suspected in the dangerous days to come, I would have to do more rescuing of my new companion than he would of me.
As I faced the west and let the cold wind buffet my cheeks, I braced my shoulders for the trials that would erelong be upon me and prayed someday I would be found worthy.
Chapter
2
Gabriella
“Run faster!” I shouted breathlessly. The sharp claws of rats scraped against the stone, and their bone-chilling squeaks echoed in the narrow cavern, drawing nearer.
Ahead, Benedict’s and Alice’s footsteps thudded as hard as their old legs could possibly take them. But the past months of exhausting labor had exacted their toll on my faithful servants, and they couldn’t move through the winding tunnels with the same agility they’d had after first arriving in the mine pits.
The steep uphill passageway made our race more difficult, as did the gravel that gave way beneath our feet, causing us to slip with nearly every step.
“Make haste!” I urged again, even as a rat lunged toward me and snapped at my leather boot. I slammed my hammer down on its head, causing it to yelp a high-pitched protest as it tumbled back several paces.
The faint light streaming in from the top of the incline meant we weren’t far from the safety of the surface. We needed to persevere until we reached the light, where we would escape the danger.
I had only to picture Molly’s swollen arm from earlier in the week, the skin purplish-blue and stretched taut, to know the consequence of even the smallest rat bite. I had only to picture the blood and severed limbs from the amputations I’d witnessed. I had only to picture those who survived and returned to the mines, attempting to meet their daily quotas with only one hand or one leg remaining.
Alice stumbled and slid down, nearly bumping into me. With wild eyes, she clutched her chest, her breathing so labored she couldn’t speak. Her gray hair had come loose from a simple linen head scarf and was now plastered to her perspiring forehead and cheeks.
“I beseech you, my lady,” Benedict said through his own jagged breaths. “Take Alice and I’ll fight the fiends.”
I swung my hammer at another rat, and he did the same. Could Benedict prevail against the vicious rodents by himself while I helped Alice the rest of the way?
No. With so many, he’d surely be bitten. “We shall slay them together. ’Tis the only way, Benedict.”
While fighting, he continued to push upward, practically carrying Alice. His silence meant he opposed my assistance. I couldn’t blame him. I wasn’t the least bit skilled in wielding weaponry and would likely hinder rather than aid him.
But what choice did we have?
“I am growing more proficient with my hammer and chisel.” I ignored the bandages around my fingers, especially the bloodiest one. “You need not worry about me.”
A shadow momentarily fell over the opening ahead, and I took sudden hope from it. “Help! Please, help!”
An instant later, a form dropped into the passageway. “Gabi? That be ye?”
“Yes!” I squinted to see the tall, lithe outline of Curly, one of the many kind people who’d befriended me. “The rats are after us!”
Before the words were out of my mouth, Curly was sliding down the gravel. Like Benedict and Alice, I flattened myself against the tunnel wall to make room for him. At the same time I kicked at a rat, sending it rolling away only to have another latch on to my boot and scurry up the leather.
I batted it with my hammer. But this time I missed, and the rodent climbed higher, clutching my frayed skirt, rending the thin linen with its claws and two protruding front teeth.
I couldn’t hold back a cry of alarm, and Benedict came to my rescue, slamming the rat away. It fell, taking a section of my skirt with it. In the same moment, he booted and swung and fought the others that leapt at us, ravenous for human blood.
With a shout, Curly plowed into the creatures, his sharpened rock blade already flying and sending the skinny creatures tumbling down the incline. Seconds later, dead or injured rats littered the path, and the cavern grew silent except for our labored breathing.
Curly stared down the darkened passageway, his tall body hunched and his makeshift knife outstretched, as though he expected more rats to rush at us. “Go on up with ye now.” He didn’t take his attention from the path. “I’ll see to yer backs, that I will.”
“Oh, thank you, Curly. You are a godsend.”
“Yer the godsend.”
I wanted to say more, to thank him again, but at Benedict’s tug I resumed the climb upward. Only after we’d crawled through the square opening and onto the rocky mountaintop, did I realize how badly I was shaking. My knees were too weak to hold my weight, and my hands trembled too much to tuck my tools back into my rope belt.
Even so, heedless of the stones that dug into my hands and knees, I crawled over to Benedict and Alice where they’d collapsed, searching them for any signs of blood. “You were not bitten, were you?”
“No,” Benedict whispered, grasping Alice’s hand. “Thank the saints.”
Heads bent in weariness, their stooped shoulders heaved as they gasped in air. Their garments, which had once fit so snugly against plump frames, now hung over sharply protruding bones. Their faces were sallow and sunken, their skin pale, and their bodies bruised.
Empathy swelled inside, and I gathered them both in my arms, kissing the tops of their heads. I loathed that every day I had to watch them waste away a little more.
All around us in the growing dusk, Slave Town was a hustle of business. Smoke drifted from thatched huts, and the scents of the evening meal wafted in the cool air, making my stomach grumble in protest.
I sighed. We would be going without food again tonight, now that we’d left our baskets behind in the mine.
Curly’s footsteps crunched in the rocks beside me. “Haven’t I told ye to be guarding your flame with your life?”
I released the older couple and turned to find my friend glaring down at me. He was framed by the fading sunlight and the splashes of rose and orange against the mountain peaks to the west. The colors of the setting sun highlighted the red in his wildly curly hair, which was much brighter than my own softer blond-red. His temperament oft flamed like his hair.
“’Twas not our fault.” I spoke calmly, trying to keep him from exploding. “We were guarding the flame carefully, but a foul breeze snuffed it out in an instant, plunging us into darkness.”
His thick red brows furrowed together above a face that had likely been handsome at one time but was now thin and bony and pale. “If ye won’t be working with the rest of us, then ye need to avoid the old tunnels and stay closer to the new where the air is cleaner.”
He knew Alice wasn’t capable of climbing down to labor in the new drift with the rest of the slaves. We’d already tried on several occasions. And he also knew that being together didn’t mean anyone was safe. With the tremors and cave-in that had trapped Molly and two others last week, he should know that well enough. We’d had to work day and night to dig them out, and even then only Molly survived.
“If ye stay closer and then yer light goes, ye can call me, and I’ll be there in the twitch of a lamb’s tail, that I will.”
The rats couldn’t abide light, and it was our only protection against their bloodthirstiness. If only Molly’s torch had lasted until we’d been able to dig her out of the rubble. At the sudden shadow on Curly’s face, I guessed he was thinking the same.
“How is Molly tonight?” I asked.
“She be sitting up and smiling.” His haunted eyes darkened as he glanced at the hut used as the infirmary. “So I can’t be complaining now, can I?”
Like most of the other slaves, Molly hadn’t deserved to be sent to the mines. She and her brother had been present when a group of peasants had rioted over new taxes. They’d be
en in the wrong place at the wrong time and were rounded up with the dissidents and sent to the mines. I’d just arrived when her brother died of an infection. Still in the midst of grieving, Molly had taken me under her wing and taught me everything I needed to know to survive.
Curly held out a hand to assist me to my feet. “I take it ye left yer buckets behind, then?”
“We had no choice.”
“I’d be giving ye some of my rations, but I already divided it up.”
No doubt he’d given some of his supper to Molly, and only rightly so. “We shall be fine. Do not trouble yourself over us.”
We’d travailed all day, chiseling rock to fill our buckets, rock that was necessary to get our daily ration for meals. ’Twould be of no consequence now. The hatch would soon be battened down for the night to keep any rats from coming to the surface during the darkness. Anyone who remained in the mine would be trapped there for the night, and I couldn’t risk that.
A commotion at the bridge drew my attention. Someone was crossing the braided rope structure that stretched across a deep ravine separating the mine from civilization. The suspension bridge was the only way in and out, except most of the people who came to work in the mine as slaves never made it out.
I would be the exception. I didn’t know exactly how I would accomplish such a feat. All I knew was that I had to escape before Midsummer’s Eve, less than two months away.
“Jolly,” Curly muttered as he watched the bridge. “Just what we be needing. A fresh batch of slaves.”
New slaves meant more competition for finding the coveted gems that could be used to buy any number of luxuries from clothing to medicine to soap. The emeralds, rubies, sapphires, and diamonds were nearly impossible to locate now. After the past six months of living at the mine, I’d witnessed the discoveries diminishing from several veins a day to several a week. And now we were fortunate to find several in a month.
Most people believed that somehow the sun’s midsummer zenith helped the gems to grow and surface every year. Very few were aware of what really caused the precious jewels to reappear after Midsummer’s Eve. My father had been one of those few, and it cost him his life.