by Bex Hogan
Yet the problem is I am the Queen. I am Mairin of Vultura. Whether I like it or not. Whether Rafe is crowned or not. There is no pretending otherwise. And when I think of all I’m prepared to do for the East, then surely I should be willing to do more for my own land? And here lies the cause of my anger. What can I do? I came to find help for the East and instead stumbled into bigger problems. I was arrogant to think I could fix this. Perhaps Old Tatty was right. Unbidden, her words come back to me like a warning.
Time is running out for you. For all of us. Your enemy will destroy you and everything you love. We will all be destroyed.
Maybe some prophecies just have to come true, no matter how hard you try to fight them.
I’ve come further than I intended and am about to head home when I hear raised voices. I pause, listening intently. A scream quickly follows, and another, and I know someone’s in danger.
All my experience tells me I should walk away, that every time I try to help it only gets me into trouble, but I still pull out my dagger and run forward.
The cries grow louder now and I pull my hood up as I creep through the shadows on the outskirts of the settlement. I peer round a crumbling brick wall and take in the scene before me. A group of five armed men are terrorising a young family with a small child.
The man and woman look like travellers, perhaps returning home, and are begging the gang to believe them when they say they have no coins to give. Sickness stirs in my belly. These men don’t want money; they want violence. I know because I recognise it from the days when Adler and his men would pick fights simply because they lusted after blood. My rising rage turns feverous.
One of the group reaches for the woman, who flinches away, shielding the child with her body. Her husband steps forward to protect them both and receives a wallop to his chin that sends him flying. The woman rushes to his side, and I can see her pleading with the men to leave them alone and let them pass in peace.
I’m no longer watching with any sense of detachment. I’m seeing another man and woman, another child, being attacked years ago by violent men. My mother fought to the death to protect me and failed. I can’t stand by and watch another family be ripped apart like mine.
The child’s screams tear through me like a blade and I charge forward, without thought or strategy, launching myself at the nearest attacker.
It’s chaos. My assault is wholly unexpected and takes the gang completely by surprise. I manage to floor a couple of big guys before they regroup and forget the family sprawled on the ground who are staring at me like a demon saviour. These men wanted a fight and now they’ve got one.
All my anger, all my frustration, is directed furiously at these strangers and I punch, kick, lash and bite with wild abandon. At some point I scream at the family to flee, but as soon as I see them safely escape I completely lose myself to the turmoil in my head, bitterness and hatred turning me into a violent mess of limbs.
It’s only after a while that it occurs to me that for every man I defeat, another comes at me. They’ve got reinforcements and I’m increasingly outnumbered. I’m even more surprised to realise I don’t care. I’m tired of everything. I’m sick of trying to put right other people’s wrongs. I can’t fix the Twelve Isles, that’s the truth of it. I’ve destroyed the man I love; I’ve abandoned the man I married. I miss too many people I can never get back, grief a weight constantly crushing me. It’s all too hard.
I can’t fight life any more. And so I just fight. If this is it, then I’ll fight to my death.
Slowly they close in on me, taking advantage of their numbers, but I barely feel the blows as they land on me. I keep swinging, I keep lashing out, though deep down, I’m giving up.
And then another shadow emerges from the night to join the fight. My fight. It moves with spectacular fluidity, like it’s performing a lethal dance. For a moment I think it’s Grace’s ghost come back to save me, but this person is definitely alive. The dead don’t bleed.
Astrid.
Something snaps awake inside me, the strange trance lifting. Where moments ago I was ready to give up, now her presence revives me. There are too many for her to fight alone, just as there were for me. But for both of us together?
I position myself at her back, and wordlessly we adapt our fighting style, moving as one dangerous cloud of savagery. Together we dispatch the gang with deadly efficiency, and when it’s done we turn to face each other.
‘How did you know where I was?’ I can taste blood when I speak.
‘Saw you leaving the castle. Come on, we’d better hurry,’ Astrid says, glancing around vigilantly. ‘It’s not safe out here.’
But with the fight now over, and the family out of harm’s way, pain is sweeping in. I hurt and it must be obvious, because Astrid wraps her arm round my shoulder and supports me as we head back towards the palace. Not once does she lose her focus, her sword drawn, attentive to our surroundings, and I allow her to guide me home. I can’t remember the last time I trusted someone enough to let them lead, but as the palace grows closer I practically shut my eyes and follow her steps. The relief of not being in charge is immense.
I must lose consciousness because I don’t entirely remember making it back to the palace, or how we get to my chamber, but somehow we do, and then Astrid is lowering me into a chair, before lighting the fire and fetching me a goblet of wine.
My hand shakes as I raise it to my lips, relishing the burning sensation as it glides down my throat.
‘Thank you,’ I say, as she passes me a cold, damp cloth to press to my split lip. I wonder how much of a mess I must look.
Astrid leans against the fireplace, and her face is full of reproach. ‘What were you thinking?’
I shrug, not wanting to admit how badly I lost control of my emotions. I nearly lost more than that.
‘You could have got yourself killed.’
‘They were going to kill a family.’ My voice is flat, emotionless.
Astrid says nothing but takes the cloth from me and rinses it clean in a bowl of water, before handing it back and gesturing to my eye. I hadn’t realised it was throbbing, and the cloth simultaneously soothes and stings as I press it there.
‘You’re unhappy.’
I’m grateful that she doesn’t ask it as a question, just presents it as an observation that doesn’t require an answer.
‘I’m angry. All the time.’ I look up to see her sad eyes staring at me. ‘When did everything get so twisted? When did everyone start hating each other? Why can’t … ?’ I trail off. What’s the point? Astrid can’t answer these questions any more than I can.
She comes to sit beside me and takes my hand. ‘I understand,’ she says. ‘You’ve been fighting your whole life. But the thing is, you can’t give up.’ Her eyes burn with sincerity. ‘You’re our leader, our general. Our Queen. You can’t escape that, no matter how much you want to. And I know it’s hard – painfully, excruciatingly hard – but you can’t give up. You can’t. We need you.’
Tears spring mercilessly to my eyes. ‘I don’t know what to do. The world is burning and I don’t know how to stop it.’
She tightens her grip on my hand. ‘You face one fire at a time. And you don’t have to do it alone. I’ve sacrificed my whole life to finding you, in the hope that one day I would have the honour of serving at your command. So have Mordecai, and Jax. You have friends, Marianne. And for all the enemies waiting to strike you down we are ready to hit back. We’re not giving up on you, so please don’t give up on us.’
Her words are a balm on my bruised soul and slowly I can feel my pulse steady once more. I was wavering on the precipice before darkness and Astrid has pulled me back. I nod, reassuring her I’m going nowhere, and wrap my free hand over hers. Her shoulders drop. She realises she’s got through to me and her relief is palpable.
When the moment passes, she stands up and refreshes my cloth once more.
‘Where did you learn to fight like that?’ I ask her, thinking of the ease
with which she stormed into the threat of so many.
Mischief dances on Astrid’s lips. ‘You can see when you join us in the morning. We train early – if you think you can keep up.’
‘I’m not sure I can,’ I say with a smile, but a nagging thought claws at the back of my mind. Something about the way she fought is tugging at a memory I can’t quite seem to grasp.
‘Well, you have a good excuse,’ she says and gestures to my bruised and battered face. ‘For now get some rest.’
I thank her once more and then she’s gone, leaving me alone with my pain and wounded pride. I made a mistake tonight and it nearly cost me everything. Since I’ve been here my anger never seems far away, my frustration always bubbling under the surface ready to strike. I don’t like being this way.
I drag myself out of the chair to see how bad my reflection is in the looking glass. It’s worse than I expected, and the prospect of tomorrow trying to convince other Guardians I’m their Queen with these injuries seems futile.
I creep out into the hallway and wind my way down to Gaius’s potion room. To my relief, he isn’t there. I set to work, boiling some water and adding silverbud and swampnettle to it, my usual ingredients for healing cuts. Then I add wildroot and a pinch of dirt for extra potency – again, a known addition to speed the healing process. And then I deviate. Where normally I would stop and drink the tonic, now I search through Gaius’s vast store of ingredients until I find what I’m looking for. I add a spoonful of powdered hoof and a sprinkle of ash, before leaning over and squeezing in a drop of blood from my split lip. I stir the brew, whispering the same incantation I used for Gaius’s burn over it, and finally remove it from the heat.
The smell is vile, but I hold my nose and drink the potion down. My body burns from the inside out, but in a good way. I can feel the magic taking hold. And when I return undetected to my room, I look once more at the looking glass and smile.
All traces of the injuries I sustained tonight are gone.
I rise with the sun, feeling more invigorated than I have in a long time. My potion seems to have given me a new lease of life. Wanting to keep my word to Olwyn, I head towards the large courtyard where the Guardians train multiple times a day.
To my surprise there are already at least sixty people filling the space, working hard on their skills. They’re performing a range of different drills – everything from sparring to sword practice – but they have one thing in common.
They’re all blindfolded.
Once I’ve spotted Olwyn, I weave carefully round the edges to reach her. She’s sitting with Jax and together they’re watching Mordecai and Astrid fight.
‘You came,’ Olwyn says, and I can hear both her delight and surprise at my presence.
‘Of course,’ I say, as if there was ever any doubt. ‘Who’s winning?’
‘You tell us,’ Jax says with a smile.
He’s right to be amused. Astrid and Mordecai are both excellent fighters and it’s mesmerising to see them. Once again I feel I’m watching a dance. Once again a nagging feeling bothers my brain. There’s something here I’m missing.
When Astrid manages to knock Mordecai to the ground, she pulls off her blindfold and laughs. ‘I believe that’s two–one to me.’
Mordecai gets to his feet, brushing the dirt from his legs. ‘You got lucky.’
Then they see me. Mordecai smiles and runs over to give me a friendly hug. Astrid, however, looks slightly shocked.
‘You’ve come to train?’ Mordecai says.
‘No, just to watch the experts,’ I say.
‘You should join us,’ Astrid says, though she’s still frowning at me. ‘Nothing sharpens your reflexes like fighting blind.’
I suddenly think of Sharpe, and want nothing more than to bring him West, so he can train with the Guardians, regain his confidence and be Torin’s official bodyguard once again. I miss them both with unexpected longing.
‘I suppose I could try,’ I say, though I’m hesitant. I really don’t want to make a fool of myself in front of so many people.
Perhaps sensing my caution, Astrid comes over to me. ‘Fight Mordecai. We all know you can kick his ass.’ And she winks at him.
‘Charming,’ he replies, but he’s not offended. I can tell he’s desperate to get a chance to try out his skills on me.
Under the cover of tying her blindfold around my eyes, Astrid leans close and whispers in my ear. ‘What happened?’
I realise the reason behind her shock upon first seeing me. She was expecting to see a black eye and swollen lip.
‘My studies with Gaius are going well,’ I say, grinning, but despite not being able to see, I can tell she doesn’t return my smile. All I can sense is concern.
‘Fighting blind is all about focus,’ she says, ignoring my miraculous healing. ‘Trust yourself and your instincts and you’ll unlock all your potential.’
And then she’s gone. I’m alone, in the dark, with nothing to go on other than the assumption Mordecai is opposite me.
His fist strikes me without warning, right on my shoulder, and I stumble backwards. I’d completely misjudged his position and feel disorientated.
Mordecai hits me again, this time on my thigh. I can feel he’s not using much force behind his blows and his manners spike my competitiveness.
‘You taking it easy on me?’ I taunt him.
‘Well, it is your first time,’ he replies.
Got him. His voice gives away his position and I lunge forward, landing a successful punch to his guts.
Behind me I hear Jax laugh and I start to relax. Once I do, my fighting instincts kick in.
All the other noise disappears. I listen only for the sound of Mordecai’s feet, the heaviness of his breathing, the pounding of his heart. Every footstep, every breath, every heartbeat betrays his location so that I can attack, and with each successful hit I make, my own pulse steadies, my nerves calm. I’m in control; I know what I’m doing. I was taught by a Guardian. I can hold my own alongside them.
The thud of Mordecai smashing to the ground brings the fight to a close, and I pull off my blindfold, only to see that it wasn’t solely my focus on Mordecai that had made all other noise disappear. Everyone else has stopped fighting and is watching me.
I walk over to Mordecai, who’s taken his blindfold off too, and offer him my hand. ‘You OK?’
‘Have you done that before?’ he says with a slight frown.
‘No. Why?’
‘Because you’re good, that’s why,’ he says, and the frown turns to a smile. ‘Too good.’
‘Well, I still think you were giving me an easy fight.’
He laughs. ‘Maybe at first. But not at the end. I was doing my best just to stay upright.’
‘Sorry,’ I say, patting him on the back. ‘What can I say? I’m a Snake.’
‘That was amazing,’ Olwyn says when we return to them. ‘And look,’ she adds in an undertone, ‘if they didn’t know who you were before, they certainly do now.’
She’s right, the other Guardians have definitely noticed me – though whether in a good or bad way, I’m not sure.
After that I opt to watch rather than fight more. Olwyn’s taken well to her training, and I’m seriously impressed. Her fighting reflects her personality – thoughtful and patient. She bides her time before she strikes. I miss being with her, I realise. Of all the people I know she’s the best antidote to my anger. She calms me when others can’t, makes me laugh when I need to break free from despair. In truth, with her quiet strength and kind compassion, she would make a better queen than me.
I stay a while longer, but eventually the lure of the potion room grows too great and I make my excuses to leave. I’m not sure what mood Gaius will be in today after last night, but between the thrill of healing myself yesterday and winning the fight just now, I’m too excited to care.
‘You’re late,’ he says when I walk into the room.
‘I joined the others for some training.’
Slightly taken aback, I make my apologies. ‘I’m here now, though. Ready to learn.’
‘Do you mean that?’
His coldness is unsettling me. ‘Of course.’
‘Good. Because after you threw your weight around last night, Arlan is more determined than ever to be rid of you, so we have no time to waste.’
He moves over to the store cupboard and opens the door, revealing, to my shock, a bound and gagged man.
With surprising force Gaius shoves the man in front of me. ‘Kill him.’
I stare at Gaius, unable to comprehend what’s happening. ‘Excuse me?’
‘You have so much potential,’ he says with forced patience. ‘It’s time to forget the rats. Healing is fine, but restoring life is the most powerful thing a Mage can do. You’ve been given a rare gift, one I’ve never known a Mage to possess. But unless you practise, then you will never fulfil it.’
‘I’m not going to kill someone!’
‘He’s going to die tomorrow anyway,’ Gaius says, as if what he’s asking is nothing. ‘I took him from the dungeons. He’s a murderer, scum, whose execution is scheduled for dawn. Besides, if you succeed, he won’t be dead anyway, and your guilt will be redundant.’
‘You think because he’s a prisoner that makes it all right to experiment on him?’
‘You have to hone your skills. I told you there would be a challenge you must face to become a Mage – this is it. This is your test, Marianne, the art you have to master to step beyond what you currently are into something greater. This is what you need to be powerful enough to save your people and fulfil your destiny.’