The Beauty of Darkness

by Mary E. Pearson

  My head still swam with the elixir the surgeon had given me. The tent was full of the injured. There were a dozen more tents like this one. I’d had to live with the wood in my leg for three days. There were too many wounded for the few surgeons here to take care of at once. I’d almost taken Orrin up on his offer to cut it out for me. Tavish lay on a bedroll opposite mine, his arm and neck swathed in bandages. Half of his long ropes of hair were gone. He lifted his good arm as a welcome, but even that small effort left him grimacing with pain.

  Rafe sat on a crate in the opposite corner while Berdi brushed a healing balm on his hands. Someone else dressed a gash on his shoulder, then put his arm in a sling. I could hear Gwyneth through the tent walls, giving orders to Griz for more pails of water, and Orrin tearing fabric for bandages. The aftermath was as loud as the battle but with a different kind of noise.

  “The Watch Captain?” I asked.

  Pauline shook her head. “No sign,” she answered.

  The coward had slithered away, and he and a half dozen of the Council were unaccounted for. It could be they were among the mass of dead bodies—not all were recognizable anymore.

  “If they’re alive, they’ve crawled into deep dark holes,” Pauline added. “We’ll never see them again.”

  I nodded and hoped she was right.

  RAFE

  “How are your hands?”

  “Berdi just changed the dresssings,” I answered. “I should be able to ride in a few days.”

  “Good.”

  “And how is your shoulder?” I asked.

  “Sore—but more than worth it. You may pull it out of joint anytime you wish.”

  I had barely reached Lia before she went over the bluff with the Komizar and Calantha. My hands had still been wet with raw burned flesh, but I caught her wrist and pulled her back up. Even with our injuries, she and I were among the lucky ones. I’d told Kaden about Andrés, but his body had never been found, perhaps trampled beyond recognition by a brezalot.

  Dalbreck’s toll was high. By General Draeger’s count, we had lost four thousand soldiers. Without Lia’s plea and her promise to the Vendans, there would have been no end to it. There was no doubt in Draeger’s mind now that the Komizar would have wiped Morrighan, and then us, from the face of the earth.

  Dalbretch, Vendan, and Morrighese forces worked together during the aftermath, and Lia spoke to the Vendans daily, helping them prepare for their journey back home.

  “We should be ready to leave in a few days too,” she said. “The last of the bodies have been burned. There were too many to bury them all.”

  “Jeb?”

  She nodded and walked away.

  LIA

  It had been almost two weeks. The last of the dead were buried or burned—including the Komizar. It was strange, looking at his lifeless body, the fingers that had clutched my throat, the mouth that had always held threat, the man who had looked out on an army city and imagined the gods under his thumb. Everything about him now was so ordinary.

  “We can leave the dog for the animals,” a sentry had told me. I imagined my expression must have suggested such a thought. I looked at Calantha lying beside him.

  “No,” I said. “The Komizar is gone. He is only a boy named Reginaus now. Burn his body alongside hers.”

  Jeb received his own funeral pyre. I had found him alive the morning after the battle as we searched among the piles of bodies. I had pulled his head into my lap, and his eyes had opened.

  “Your Highness,” he said, his face dirty and bloody but his eyes still shining with life.

  “I’m here, Jeb,” I said, wiping the blood from his brow. “You’ll be all right.”

  He nodded, but we both knew it was a lie.

  His expression pinched with pain as he forced a smile to his face. “Look at this.” His gaze turned downward toward his bleeding chest. “I’ve ruined another shirt.”

  “It’s only a small tear, Jeb. I can fix that. Or I’ll get you a new one.”

  “Cruvas linen,” he said, his breaths choppy.

  “Yes, I know. I remember. I will always remember.”

  His eyes glistened, lingering with a last knowing look, and then he was gone.

  I smoothed his hair. I whispered his name. I wiped his face. I rocked him. I held Jeb like he was everyone I’d watched die this past year, all those I hadn’t had time to hold. I didn’t want to let go of any more. And then I buried my face in his neck and sobbed. My fingers wove with his, and I remembered the first time I’d met him, a patty clapper kneeling in my room saying he was there to take me home. A sentry brushed my arm, trying to convince me to let him go, but I pushed him away. For once, I wouldn’t be rushed to say good-bye.

  It was the last time I’d cried, no matter how many more bodies we piled to burn or bury. The immensity of the death was numbing. But I knew at some point tears would come again. The pain would take hold of me unexpectedly and throw me to my knees. There were no rules to grief, but there were rules to life, and in those first few days, the requirements of the living demanded I keep going.

  There were others—Perry, Marques, the Field Marshal—who hadn’t made it either, others of the officers gravely injured, and still others who had fought just as valiantly and were unscathed. Governors Umbrose and Carzwil were the lone members of the Council who had laid down their arms along with the clans. They had another kind of hope too.

  General Draeger was one of the unscathed, and he helped me in the aftermath of battle, sometimes doing the hardest and most heart-wrenching of tasks. We both held down a young Vendan as his mangled arm was cut free from the gears of one of the Komizar’s ill-conceived weapons.

  “I owe you an apology,” he said one day as we walked back to camp. “You’re not what I expected.”

  “No apology necessary,” I said. “You’re not what I expected either. I thought you’d be a power-mongering, insufferable ass.”

  He sucked in a surprised breath. “And now?”

  “Instead, I find a man who is passionate and deeply loyal to his kingdom. I admire that greatly, General, but it can be a narrow line to navigate. Sometimes it might lead us to cross boundaries. I know what it feels like to have my choices taken away. I pray no daughter of your kingdom will ever have to fight for her voice to be heard as I have had to.”

  He cleared his throat. Apparently my subtlety was lacking. “That’s why you ran from the marriage?” he asked.

  “Everyone deserves to be loved, General, and not because a piece of paper commands it. Choice is powerful and can lead to great things if not held in the tight fists of a few.”

  * * *

  The food supplies the Komizar had stockpiled had mostly survived. They would be enough to get us back to Venda. I met with the clans and wept on their shoulders, and they on mine. Day by day, I felt our resolve growing, knitting together like a broken bone, our shared scar making us stronger. I rejected the title of Komizar, but accepted the one of queen.

  And even though my strength and hope grew daily, when we met at the end of the valley to say good-bye to Morrighese and Dalbretch troops, I felt some small part of that hope wither.

  I hugged Tavish and Orrin, then Kaden and I shook hands with Generals Howland and Draeger. General Draeger hesitated as if he wanted to say something else to me, but then he only squeezed my hand and wished me well again.

  Rafe stepped forward and clasped Kaden’s hand. They said nothing, instead studying each other, and then they exchanged nods as if some words had passed between them.

  I stared at Rafe and filled my mind with a hundred memories of what was, so I wouldn’t have to think about what was to come. I thought about the first time he had scowled at me in Berdi’s tavern, the sun slashing across his cheekbones when he came to Devil’s Canyon, his fumbling over words when I asked where he was from, the small heart of sweat on his shirt as he swept webs from the eaves, the curious touch of his finger tracing the kavah on my shoulder, the rage in our voices as we argued right b
efore our first kiss, the tears in his eyes as he lifted me from an icy bank.

  But mostly I remembered our few stolen hours when kingdoms didn’t exist for us.

  “Lia.”

  My memories tumbled away, and the sun was suddenly hot and blinding.

  Rafe walked over to me. Kaden and the officers looked on. There was no privacy in this moment, and maybe it was for the best.

  “You need to return to your duties in Dalbreck now,” I said. It was a statement, but I know he heard my question laced through it.

  He nodded. “And you also have your duties in Venda.”

  The same question was hidden in his words.

  I nodded. “I’ve made promises, just as you have.”

  “Yes. Promises. I know.” He shifted on his feet glancing down for a moment. “We’ll be drawing up the new treaties soon. We’ll send them to you and the other kingdoms.”

  “Thank you. Without Dalbreck’s lead, we couldn’t make this happen. I wish you well, King Jaxon.”

  He didn’t call me Queen Jezelia, as if he still couldn’t accept either the title or the choice I had made. He had never loved Venda the way I did.

  He stared at me for the longest time, saying nothing, then finally answered, “I wish you well too, Lia.”

  We parted, he going his way and I going mine, both of us committed to help the kingdoms we loved build a future. There were many ways a life could be sacrificed, and it wasn’t always through dying.

  I looked back over my shoulder, watching him ride away, and then I thought about Gwyneth’s long-ago remark. Love … It’s a nice little trick if you can find it.

  We had found it.

  But now I knew finding love and holding on to it were not the same thing.

  * * *

  I rode back to the multitudes of Vendans who waited for my signal, their faces filled with hope, ready to begin the future I had promised them, and I waved our caravan forward, in the direction of home.

  With the dawn comes a better glimpse of our shelter.

  It is safe to build a fire now.

  The scavengers won’t spot us.

  We are cold and hungry, and Pata has killed a rabbit.

  We gather what little fuel we see—a broken chair and a few books. The pages are precious dry tinder that will help the wood catch.

  The others walk around in wonderment, looking at the walls that enclose us.

  I watch the pages of the books curl, hear the sizzle of the rabbit and the rumble of our stomachs.

  The child brings me a colorful sphere, most of it blue.

  What is this? she asks, and spins it, entranced with its beauty.

  I am uncertain myself what to call it, but the words written across it are familiar. I search my memories, my own grandmother telling me how the world used to be.

  It is a map of our world.

  Our world is round?

  It was.

  Now it is flat and small and brown. But the child already knows that.

  From the stars, Morrighan. If you fly among the stars, you will see the world far differently.

  What will I see?

  She is hungry, not just for food, but for understanding, and I have little to give her.

  Come, child, sit in my lap as the rabbit cooks, and I will tell you what you can see from the stars.

  Once upon a time, long long ago, there were not just the Remnant and the scavengers. There were nations of every kind, hundreds of kingdoms that circled this world.

  Hundreds?

  She smiles, believing it to be another of my tales. Maybe it is. The lines of truth and sustenance blurred long ago.

  What happened to them, Ama? Where are they now?

  They are us, child. We are what’s left.

  But there was a princess?

  Yes, child, a princess. Just like you. A princess strong and brave who visited the stars, and from there she saw a different world and imagined new ones yet to be.

  —The Last Testaments of Gaudrel

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE

  RAFE

  “Your Majesty, where is your head?” Sven whispered between clenched teeth.

  He knew where it was. The same place it had drifted to countless times these last months, but she had her duties and I had mine.

  “Yes, go on, Lord Gandry,” I said, sitting a little straighter in my chair.

  I returned my attention to the Barons of the Assembly, where it belonged.

  Sven had taken to heart my last words to him back in Morrighan. Words I thought he couldn’t hear, and probably not the last words Gwyneth had in mind. Wake up, you old coot! You’re not dismissed from your duties yet. Wake up, or I’m going to go dump you in a water trough. Do you hear me, Sven? I still need you.

  Whenever we argued over some matter now, he reminded me of my confession—that I needed him. It was true. I did. And not just as an adviser.

  The Morrighese had kindly deposited him back on our doorstep as soon as he was able to travel. I kept his days short. He still tired easily, but it was a miracle he was alive at all.

  After the battle in Sentinel Valley, the long ride back to Dalbreck had given General Draeger and me plenty of opportunities to talk. He told me he was having second thoughts about the betrothal. His daughter was young and bright and creative, and the weight of such a contract might hamper her growth and dampen her spirit. She was only fourteen, after all. With the defeat of the Komizar and my return to Dalbreck assured, the betrothal would prove a distraction to the work ahead of us, and the good of the kingdom was all that mattered, and would I find it mutually agreeable to dissolve the contract?

  I had mulled it over, for about five seconds, and agreed.

  When the assembly adjourned at last, I returned to my office. Commerce was brisk once again, and the coffers were healthy, in part due to an arrangement with Morrighan, no doubt strongly suggested to them by the queen of Venda. The port of Piadro was granted to Dalbreck in return for ten percent of our profits. It was a beneficial arrangement for both of us.

  “Another message has arrived from the Keep of Venda.”

  Lia’s right-hand man. Kaden. No doubt he was asking for another escort, more supplies, more of something. But I knew they needed it and wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t necessary. Lending a helping hand to their resettlement benefited all the kingdoms.

  “Give him whatever he wants.”

  “She wants, you mean.”

  Yes, she. I knew the requests ultimately came from Lia. But she called equally on the other kingdoms for help too, and we knew the Lesser Kingdoms followed the leads of Morrighan and Dalbreck. We spoke only in messages through our emissaries. It made it easier for both of us. But I heard the reports. Venda was thriving under her reign. I wasn’t surprised. One of their farming settlements was being established just beyond our borders. It made some citizens nervous, but I worked to reassure them. Venda was not the Venda it used to be.

  “The Keep has included something with this message. You might want to take a look at it.”

  “Whatever it is—”

  “Take a look.”

  He laid a small package on my desk that was wrapped in cloth and tied up with string, then shoved the message into my hand.

  Wagons.

  Grain.

  Escorts.

  The list went on and on. The usual requests.

  But at the end, a note from the Keep:

  I found this stuffed behind a manger in Berdi’s loft. I think it belongs to you.

  “Shall I open it?” Sven asked.

  I stared at the package for a long while.

  I am yours, and you are mine, and no kingdom will ever come between us.

  A very long while.

  I knew what was in it.

  Something white.

  Something beautiful.

  Something that had been tossed out long ago.

  “Jaxon?”

  “No,” I said. “You can throw it away.”

  Journey’s end. The promis
e. The hope.

  Gather close my brothers and sisters.

  Today is the day a thousand dreams will be born.

  We have touched the stars and the dust of possibility is ours.

  For once upon a time, three women were family

  As we are now, and they changed the world

  With the same strength we have within us.

  We are part of their story,

  And a greater one that still lies ahead.

  But the work is never over.

  Time circles. Repeats.

  And we must not only be ready,

  For the enemy without,

  But also the enemy within.

  Though the Dragon rests for now,

  He will wake again,

  And roam the earth,

  His belly ripe with hunger.

  Lest we repeat our history,

  Let the stories be passed

  From father to son, from mother to daughter,

  For with but one generation,

  History and truth are lost forever.

  And so shall it be,

  Sisters of my heart,

  Brothers of my soul,

  Family of my flesh,

  For evermore.

  —The Song of Jezelia

  CHAPTER NINETY

  I tidied up the papers on my desk and looked out the windows of the gallery. A spring shower had left puddles on the veranda. They reflected the towers of a city that didn’t look so dark anymore.

  It was my first time alone in months, and I didn’t quite know what to do with the freedom. I had said good-bye to my mother and father this morning. They were returning to Morrighan. Regan had ruled during my father’s absence. Bryn was there too. Mother said he had wrestled with the loss of his leg, but was getting stronger and riding his horse again. This had opened up a new world to him, and now he hoped to come see mine—maybe the following spring.

  My father was a changed man, not just by the events of these past months, but also by his journey here, seeing a world he hadn’t had time for before. I didn’t want to become that person who was so caught up in the details of my duty that I didn’t live in the world that I governed.

  I walked the streets of Venda every day. I shared cups of thannis on street corners. I shopped at the jehendra, listened to stories at the washbasins, and conferred with the new quarterlords chosen by the clans. I attended their weddings. Danced at their celebrations. I fell into the rhythms of a world and people who were coming to life again.