by CW Thomas
Cadha sat back against the bars of the cage and folded her arms. Narrow eyes glared out between auburn bangs and freckled cheeks. “That’s it. I’m getting out of here. The next time they open that door, I’m running.”
A couple of the other girls concurred with remarks like, “I’m not letting them take me again,” and “The bastards can go to the hells if they touch me.”
“They’ll fill your back with darts,” said another girl.
“You’ve got chains on your feet, remember? How far do you think you’d get?”
“I’ll take short steps,” Cadha said, her whisper growing louder. “I’m quick, you know. Faster than any of these dogs.”
“Nobody’s running anywhere,” Othella said. Her calming voice brought a hush to the hot emotions brimming among the group. “She’s right, they’ll kill you if you try.”
“So you want to be raped every night?” said Cadha. “Just let them take you again and again until one of them gets a little too rough and kills you?” She vented a huff of a laugh. “They’re not touching me anymore.” Cadha wrapped her arms around her knees before falling silent.
The company’s cook, a slow-witted man named Efrem, lumbered up to the wagon cage with a pot of steaming porridge. His fists bore scars befitting a slave or a fighter, and Brynlee noticed that just under his mop of black hair his left ear looked like a piece of shriveled cauliflower.
Efrem dipped a ladle into the pot. “Some breakfast for you.” His accent, combined with his dark eyes, skin, and hair, made him appear Efferousian.
The girls stretched their dirty hands through the bars of the cage for the hot food.
Captain Fess Rummick strode up to Efrem’s side and swatted the ladle, spilling the lumpy oatmeal all over the ground. Fess looked more imposing than ever in his black angular armor, fine chain mail with gold links in the shape of a serpent on his chest. His black cloak edged with a blue stripe swayed behind him as he positioned himself between Efrem and the wagon of prisoners.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Fess asked.
“Givin’ food t-to the prisoners, Cap’n Fess,” Efrem answered. “Mungo said we are to feed them p–porridge until we get to—”
Fess slapped Efrem across the cheek and took the pot from him. “Sard off, you useless halfwit. Give the whores some stale bread and save the hot stuff for the high king’s men.”
“B–but, my Lord—”
The captain made a quick gesture as though he were about to poor the entire pot of steaming slop over the halfwit’s head.
Covering his face with his hands, Efrem blurted, “No, my lord!”
Fess tipped his head back and laughed. He walked off with the pot, scooping out gooey slops of porridge with his fingers and swallowing it down.
Efrem looked shamefaced at the wagon packed with disappointed girls. He sulked back to his cart with his head sagging between the collars of his brown leather coat.
He returned a few moments later with two loaves of stale bread, which he passed through the black bars to Othella.
“Thank you,” she said.
Efrem’s face reddened a trifle as he looked at her. Then he shied away and returned to his cart.
“At least he’s nice,” Maidie said.
“Don’t let him fool you,” replied Cadha. “He’s a part of the high king’s army.”
Thunder rumbled over the distant snowcapped mountains by the time the inhospitable soldiers of the high king’s company moved out. They were a mean-spirited bunch, Brynlee thought, even despite the celebratory feel they carried from their recent victory in Aberdour. About two hundred men occupied the unit, and Brynlee could only guess as to how many units made up the vast army. Each unit consisted of many separate divisions, each riding under a different colored banner. She had counted five so far.
The girls had spent their first night in the company of blue division, a rough-and-ready group of loud foot soldiers with too much looted wine and not enough dignity. After the soldiers had made camp, they came and took all but the youngest girls into their tents for the night.
From that point on the wagon of female captives was carted around to the various divisions like a buffet table. Some nights many girls were taken. Other nights, just one or two. Some of the soldiers were gentle, but many more were not—girls returned with bruised cheekbones and sore hips.
“Why doesn’t she speak?” Cadha asked. She pointed at Scarlett who was curled up against Brynlee’s chest as the wagon cage bumped down the road. “She hasn’t said a word since we left Aberdour, and when she cries she doesn’t make a sound. Something wrong with her?”
“Nothing’s wrong with her,” Brynlee said, quick to defend her baby sister. “She just doesn’t speak.”
“Sounds like you could learn a lot from her, Cadha,” said Maidie.
“Shut your face,” Cadha said.
Brynlee caught Maidie’s glinting blue eyes and the two shared a private, unspoken laugh. She wished they were back in Aberdour playing games of chase outside the castle, braiding each other’s hair, and passing secrets between themselves.
She felt Scarlett heaving gentle sobs against her chest. “Are you all right?” Brynlee asked, peering down at her sister’s face.
Scarlett tapped her fingers against Brynlee’s chest, near her heart—tap, pause… tap, tap.
Brynlee smiled at Scarlett’s familiar gesture of affection.
“I love you, too,” she whispered. “Come. Let’s do our flags.” She pulled her sister up so she could look her in the eyes.
Scarlett shook her head, no.
“Please do the flags with me,” she pleaded. Brynlee loved reciting the flags of the nine kingdoms on Edhen. She knew them by heart, and had been trying to get Scarlett to learn them also. “Turnberry. A green banner embroidered with the shape of a bear, right?”
Scarlett said nothing. She played with the unraveling fringe on the lapel of Brynlee’s dress.
“Right?”
After a moment, young Scarlett shook her head.
“No?” Brynlee feigned disappointment. “Is it green with a yellow fox head?”
Scarlett nodded and smiled.
“That’s very good!” She ran her fingers through her sister’s rich brown hair. “How about Tranent? Is it a orange flag with a pink falcon?”
Opening her mouth Scarlett jiggled as though she were laughing, except no sound emerged.
“A pink falcon is kind of silly, isn’t it?” Brynlee said. “Um, is it white?”
Again, Scarlett nodded.
“I’m getting pretty good at these.”
Her eyes fell to Scarlett’s torso as she noticed how tattered and dingy her ivory dress had become since they were taken from Aberdour. “You’ve gotten so dirty.” The hem was almost as brown as the boards they were huddled on, and the laced back and smooth front were smeared with dim stains. She brushed her hand along the fabric in a vain attempt to wipe some of the dirt free, but quickly gave up. “Oh, never mind.”
Brynlee cleared her throat, and said, “How about Perth. Is it red with a golden viper?”
Scarlett’s eyes looked out beyond the bars of the wagon, to the banner men carrying the red and gold colors of High King Orkrash Mahl.
“Hey, that’s cheating,” Brynlee said. “Oh well. I shouldn’t have asked you that one. Silly me.” She tickled Scarlett’s tummy. “Do you remember the capital’s old flag, the one before the new high king? Do you remember that one, little sister?”
Scarlett lifted up her hands like bear claws and made a snarling face.
“The enorbear, that’s right,” Brynlee said. “Did you know Papa used to say that the reason the Allgod chose the enorbear was because the enorbear is the strongest of all the land animals and at the same time the gentlest of all the animals?”
“You don’t really believe that stuff, do you?” asked Cadha, who had been eavesdropping just a few feet away.
“Papa said the Allgod protects those who are faithful,”
Brynlee said.
“Some good it did him. And enorbears aren’t that gentle. I saw one rip through a cow like butter once.”
“They are gentle,” said one of the other girls. “My grandpa used to keep two in his barn to help plow his field. Stronger than a couple of oxen, they are, and smart.”
“And soft too,” Brynlee added to ally Cadha’s wide-eyed look.
“You’ve touched one?” she asked.
“My grandpa used to have one too,” Brynlee said, “but it didn’t do any work, just lived in the field outside the castle.”
“You’re such a liar,” Cadha said.
“I am not!”
“Are too! And look at you now. Princess Brynlee. Just like the rest of us, being carted off to—”
“That’s enough,” said Othella. She stood up from her position at the rear of the wagon. “We’re all in a bad place right now. There’s no point in getting angry with each other.” She stepped over the girls to sit down next to Brynlee and Scarlett. “And if any of you calls either of these two by their proper names or titles again, I’ll shut your mouths myself.”
“Why?” Cadha said. “Who cares?”
“Just don’t!”
Brynlee felt a small wave of comfort wash through her when Othella sat down and put a gentle arm around her shoulders. “He hates you the most, you know?”
“Who?” Brynlee asked.
“The Black King.” Othella lowered her voice. “You’re a Falls of Aberdour. Your father aided cities under siege, harbored refugees from all over the realm, and even helped rally a rebellion. Truly, the Black King hates your family most of all. That’s why you need to keep who you are a secret. Can you do that? Don’t tell anyone who you really are. All right?”
“My sister told me to pretend to be someone else. That’s how you deal with hard things. You pretend to be someone stronger, and then it might not seem so bad.”
Othella offered a half smile and tucked some loose strands of hair behind Brynlee’s ear. “That sounds like a good idea.”
The army continued its long march west, trudging down grassy hillsides that overlooked majestic mountain valleys, and through rich green forests alive with the chatter of birds and the flowery scents of spring.
Early in the afternoon, with the sun barely visible behind gathering clouds, Brynlee noticed a group of six girls huddled together at the back end of the wagon. They were talking in hushed voices, heads together.
After a while Maidie crawled over to Othella and sat down next to her. “Listen,” she whispered, “some of us were thinking—”
“Don’t do it,” Othella said. “They’ll kill you all, or find other ways to punish you that will make you wish you were dead.”
Maidie’s expression went from hardly contained enthusiasm to fearful disappointment. “We have to do something.”
“There’s nothing you can do,” Othella said. “We are too far from anywhere. Just wait.”
“Wait for what? Cadha’s right. We can’t just sit around.”
But Othella had no answer.
The knot of fear in Brynlee’s stomach had just started to subside when the wagon lurched to a stop. Throughout the company of soldiers there were murmurs of, “Can’t go no further,” and “Best wait until nightfall.”
The girls pressed their faces to the sides of the cage, trying to look ahead.
“What is it?” Cadha asked.
Brynlee answered first, “The Divide.”
Cadha and a couple of the other girls shot her a disbelieving look. “There’s no such thing as The Divide,” Cadha said. “That’s a children’s tale.”
Brynlee was taken back by her disbelief. She had read about The Divide numerous times. Her tutors and the nuns of Aberdour’s sanctuary, along with her father and Captain Khalous Morloch, had told her so many stories about it that she had never questioned its existence.
“It’s a wasteland,” Brynlee said. “It’s real, and it’s dangerous.”
“They say the daylight in The Divide is so bright that it can blind you,” added Maidie.
Cadha’s certainty looked shaken. She swung her eyes westward as all the girls tried to see beyond the rows of soldiers that were gathering just ahead of them.
“I heard you can’t even get close to it without it killing you,” said one of the girls.
“It’s so hot there the ground burns every day.”
Brynlee looked up through the still blooming trees of spring. Their branches were mere brown silhouettes against the darkening blue of an incoming night. Her eyes wove between the limbs, searching the sky above. Finally, she saw it—a line of blackness and stars splitting the sky.
“There,” she said, her voice a mere whisper.
The heads of the girls turned upward where, to the west, a long crack ran through the navy sky. It looked more beautiful and deathly ominous than Brynlee could have imagined, like a portion of the sky had been peeled away, revealing an inky black abyss of stars. Its width was no wider than her tiny finger, but its length ran for a thousand miles north to south, or so she had read.
One of the soldiers stomped past the wagon cage. He looked furious. “We’ve missed the passing,” he said with a growl. “Bloody fools! You took us too far south.”
“Calm down, you quibbling bastard,” said another. “We can pass just as well right here.”
Their arguing dissolved into a back and fourth match that Brynlee was content to ignore.
“It is said that a witch split the sky almost five hundred years ago,” she said, gazing up in awe at the long rift. “A witch who had fallen in love with—”
“That’s not what I heard,” spouted Cadha. “I heard that the Northern Gods did battle with the Middies. Fuar, Cnatan, and Ishloch attacked Cuir and Cotch and tore up the land in all directions.”
“Now that’s a bedtime story,” Maidie said. “The real story is far more interesting. You know the story, Brynlee. You should tell it to them.”
A couple of the other girls looked intrigued. “Yes, tell us.”
The first image that sprang to Brynlee’s mind was an old drawing a philosopher had once made of the battle between High King Vala Hull and the demon king Ahkidibis. She had always thought it was a sad illustration for caught between them was a woman who had loved them both, but could no longer serve either.
“There are many stories about The Divide,” Brynlee began, “but the story of Vala Hull is the true one. He was a great king. He united the realm, brought Edhen out of poverty and starvation. Ahkidibis was—”
“Please,” Cadha balked. “Don’t bore us with religious nonsense.”
“You’re the one who was just talking about the gods of old,” said Maidie.
“No one believes in Ahkidibis,” Cadha said.
“Quiet,” Othella said. “Just let her tell the story.”
Brynlee ignored the interruption, but took a moment to collect her thoughts. “No one hated Vala Hull more than Ahkidibis, the God of Fire. He rose up from his throne in the Nine Hells to fight the high king of Edhen and rule the realm himself. He tried deceiving Vala Hull into giving up the throne. He tried tempting him with wealth and magic, but Vala Hull was pure. His soul could not be corrupted.”
One of the black soldiers trotted by on his horse, the beast kicking up clops of wet black mud as it breezed past the wagon. “Hold!” he shouted to the men approaching from the rear. “Take rest. We’ll cross at nightfall.”
“They’re not going to take us into The Divide, are they?” asked Maidie, a look of terror in her eyes.
“It’s the only time it can be crossed,” Brynlee answered.
“How do you know?” asked Cadha.
“My tutor said The Divide is too hot during the day. It can only be crossed at night, or under ground.”
“Finish the story,” said one of the younger girls.
Brynlee paused a moment to recall where she had left off. “High King Vala Hull was a good man. The only weakness Ahkidibis could fin
d in his life was his wife, Daniellia. The demon king corrupted her, made her forget her love, and made her his servant. He gave her great power, the power to destroy the high king, but during a battle at the Tower of Metlaigh, Daniellia remembered her love for her husband, remembered who she really was. She was bound to Ahkidibis though and could not betray him. So she split the sky to divide the kingdom, to protect her husband, and drive the God of Fire away. She died doing so, because when the sky opened up the sun poured through like fire and destroyed the land and everything in it.
“The high king was devastated, but Ahkidibis had lost his power over him. Defeated, he returned to the Nine Hells.”
Cadha shook her head. “No. See, right there, the story doesn’t make sense. If the witch opened up the sky and got burned to death, how come Vala Hull didn’t die?”
“Because of the blessing, stupid,” Maidie said.
“What blessing?”
“Daniellia protected her husband against the sun that day,” Brynlee answered. “The entire line of Hull is blessed as a result. None of them can be hurt by fire.”
Cadha rolled her eyes back and shook her head. “A story. That’s all it is. And a dumb one at that.”
The stocky soldier who had molested Oriana sauntered by the wagon cage with two other men. He made kissing noises at Othella. “Looks like our time together will have to wait for tomorrow.”
“You should leave them be,” said one his comrades.
“Just because you’re married doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t have fun.”
“Mungo isn’t going to be happy if he hears you’ve been sampling what he’s purchased.”
“That swine hasn’t purchased anything yet, but when he does I’ll be able to tell him what this lot is worth.” He flapped his tongue at the girls.
Brynlee felt Othella’s arm slip down over her shoulders. “Just stay with me.”
After the soldiers left it became clear that there would be no rest tonight. The company was moving on through The Divide once the sun went down and the air cooled.