Queen of the Struggle

by Nik Korpon

  I look over at Emeríann, rivulets of sweat cutting through the dust on her face, slivers of wood and other debris sprinkled through her hair, and she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

  I lean over to her, my lips brushing her earlobe. “I love you.”

  With the Tathadann now totally destroyed, we all head to Johnstone’s, the unofficial gathering point for the uprising.

  “Are you sure?” Emeríann says to me as we stand across the street from the door.

  “Yeah, go on.”

  Emeríann kisses me hard on the lips before joining the stream of people, ready for celebratory drinks and regaling one another with various and sundry war stories. I stand beneath the flickering streetlight and watch her disappear inside, some part of me sinking, wishing I could be there, not just to commemorate the occasion with my love and my partner and my fellow Ceanasaí – the two architects of the uprising – but because I can finally show my face in public without hearing the taunts of traitor and bhfeallaire. As much as I would love to though, I can’t, because I have more important tasks at hand.

  Because, Donael informed me this morning, tonight is movie night.

  2.

  EMERÍANN

  The bartender pours shots like his hands are broken. I snatch the bottle from him and run it down the row. Bourbon – real bourbon, finally – fills the lined-up glasses. I hand them out to whoever’s standing around me.

  Lachlan calls for everyone to shut the hell up. When the room finally quiets down, he climbs up on the bar.

  “A year ago, I came to Eitan because the people were tired of living with the boot-heel of Fannae Morrigan and the Tathadann on their necks. I knew only one man here, me cousin and brother-in-arms Forgall Tobeigh, the one who convinced me to leave me home in the mountains. I told him he was crazy. And I was right.” Everyone bursts into laughter and cheers. Lachlan waits a moment before continuing. “But he was also right. The people of Eitan wanted to live better. They deserved to live better. And so, with the help of our lovely host Emeríann Daele, who is so kindly allowing us to drink all her booze tonight, we started planning. It would never be easy, we knew, but it was important – vital – that we succeeded.

  “Six months ago, our Emeríann and her partner Henraek Laersen started this uprising. And tonight, with the help of Daghda and Brighid Morrigan, as well as Ødven Äsyr and his Ragjarøn troops, we finished it.”

  Everyone breaks out in cheering, whoops and screams filling the bar. Through the crowd, I catch Brighid’s glance. She raises her glass to me and gives a salute.

  Then the lights go out, and the shouting gets louder. But it’s not fear: it’s frustration. Even after they’re gone, those Tathadann bastards still find a way to screw us.

  A minute later – a blessedly short outage, this time – they flicker back on. Everyone calls for Brighid to make a speech. At first she brushes it off, but relents when she realizes they won’t stop cheering until she does. She stands next to Lachlan.

  “I’ll make this quick so you can get back to what really matters – getting drunk.”

  This elicits a lot of shouting.

  “My father and his brother Macuil founded the Tathadann years ago in order to rescue Eitan from the carnage of the Resource Wars and rebuild the city. They knew that in order for the city to prosper again, everyone must prosper. So you can imagine my father’s surprise when his brother and wife betrayed him, removing him from his own organization and exiling him into the mountains, destined to watch from afar while the city he loved was ruled with an iron fist, where only the wealthiest were allowed water or freedom.”

  Everyone boos and hisses, some calling for Lady Morrigan’s head, even though Henraek already put a bullet through it.

  “My father and I travelled across continents, helping others achieve liberation, and we put everything we had learned to work in helping to liberate our homeland, Eitan. Now that we all have thrown off the shackles of the Tathadann, my goal is to help the city prosper the way my father envisioned many years ago. That is my promise to you.”

  She waves to everyone and they all hoot and holler, raising glasses and singing. I can practically hear Henraek’s teeth grinding from across the city. He never liked Brighid and thought we should fight for our own independence. He hated to admit that he couldn’t liberate us by himself, that we wouldn’t have been able to defeat the Tathadann without Brighid and Ragjarøn.

  Lachlan calls out, quieting the crowd. “I raise me glass to the lot of you. I congratulate you on completing something that will live on long past our lifetimes. I commend you for making your children’s children’s children’s lives better. And I thank you for all of your hard work, your sacrifice, and most importantly, your heart.” Lachlan raises his glass. “To those who are still living, and to the many who we’ve lost, may Nahoeg hold us all close.”

  Everyone calls out Hael Hael Nahoeg and throws back their drinks.

  “Now somebody turn on the music,” Lachlan calls out. The bartender flips a switch and kicks off a blast of raucous guitars and whinnying fiddles nearly as loud as the shouts from the crowd. Then he goes back to getting people drunk. A few people give me hugs and try to hand me more drinks, but I already have a glass in each hand. Others jump up and down in time with the music. I weave my way through the throngs of people, spilling half of one drink I really didn’t want over some man whose clothes are still splattered with blood, and make my way to the door.

  Outside, people stumble up and down the street. Some of them blow on homemade horns, while others shout and slur rebel songs and chants. Most of them have a bottle of something in their hands. The streetlight flickers in the darkness as the power ebbs, and it should make everything seem more romantic. But it doesn’t. Aside from the noise, everything feels the same. The heavy, wet air. The stink coming from the dark corner across the street that I still haven’t been able to identify. The piles of rocks and burnt boards. Everything has changed yet everything is the same.

  The noise from inside the bar swells, then dies.

  Lachlan’s voice rings out behind me. “I’d wondered where you’d gotten off to, then.”

  “Needed a little air.” I sip at one of the glasses.

  “Everything all right, love?”

  “Yeah, fine. Why?”

  He looks at me like, Do I really need to answer that?

  “I just thought things would be different.”

  “Out here, or in there?” He points somewhere in the distance, meaning home.

  “Out here.” I take a big swallow from my glass, emptying most of it.

  “A bit anticlimactic, innit?” Another group of revelers walks by. Lachlan takes a drink, waiting until they pass. “You plan for something a whole year, putting your whole self into it, yeah? And it’s going and it’s going and then it’s done.”

  “Yeah, exactly. I thought I’d feel something more. Something different.”

  “You’re not relieved?”

  “Sure I am.”

  “But also a bit sad that our Forgall isn’t here.”

  I nod in response, finish the rest of my drink, then pitch the glass into the shadows.

  “Never did figure out where that wretched smell is coming from,” Lachlan says, almost to himself. He clears his throat. “How’s the home life, then?”

  A smile spreads over me, just thinking about it. “Good. Really good. It’s really hard, but the boys are really good. Most times, honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.” I start on my other drink, but he’s waiting for me to continue. “It does take some getting used to.” I laugh to myself. “And it’s kind of nice to be away for the night.”

  “I’d imagine. Especially as the wee ones aren’t even yours.”

  “Trust me, they’re not so small. I cook for them most of the week.”

  “They’re growing because you’re a great cook.”

  “It’s not Tathadann food, but I guess they’re adjusting.”

  Lachlan wa
ves to someone on the sidewalk across the street, a man with a stump for a left arm and a rifle propped up against his right.

  “I think it’s tough for Henraek, you know. I mean, he loves having Donael again, obviously. And I love them both being around. But Henraek, seeing Cobb every day, knowing he was Walleus’s, knowing what Walleus did, hiding Donael and all…”

  I shake away the mental image of Henraek’s silhouette in the middle of the night, standing over the boys, watching them sleep on the couch as he wraps his arms around himself or bites his hands to stop sobbing. For a good two months after they came to live with us, I don’t think Henraek slept more than a couple hours a night. He’d either stand in the living room, like he was afraid someone was going to sneak in and kidnap Donael, or he’d wake up screaming and spend the rest of the night sweating and staring at the ceiling. I figured for as many people as he’s killed over the years, Walleus would’ve been just one more body. But I’ve never killed anyone I loved, so what do I know?

  “Well, love,” Lachlan says, “you’re welcome to celebrate in whatever manner you see fit. It’s your night, then. But me? I’m going to go inside, listen to some good music, and toast the demise of those rancid spirad olcs with a couple dozen of me closest friends. I have a feeling that tomorrow, all this will feel much different.”

  He leans over and kisses me on each cheek, squeezes my shoulder once, then returns inside. I sip at my drink. Before the door can close fully, it swings back open.

  Brighid holds her arms up in the air. “What are you doing?”

  I hold up my glass, like that’s some sort of answer.

  “Drinking alone on this night of all nights?”

  I gesture toward the people passing on the sidewalk. “I’m not alone.”

  “Seriously, Ceanasaí?” she says with something like a smirk at the formal title.

  “I’m coming. I just needed some air.”

  She lays her arm across my shoulders. “I know we haven’t always agreed while on the battlefield, but you are a hell of a commander, and you should be proud of all that we’ve accomplished. This is just the beginning of something much bigger. I promise you that.”

  I feel a flush run across my skin, and I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol or the rare compliment.

  “It’s been a privilege to fight alongside you.” She gives a wry smile. “But you need to get your ass inside, because this is your night.”

  After a minute, I think to myself, they’re right. This is my night. I’d rather have Henraek here with me, but he’s fine at the apartment with the boys. And I’ll see them in a couple hours when I get home, because that’s what we’ve made: a home. Tomorrow, when Daghda and Brighid stand on the steps before Clodhna and announce that Eitan is once again self-ruled, everything will feel a hell of a lot different. So tonight, we’ll celebrate. And besides, I started this. Me and Forgall. Others helped us along the way, but it was our idea.

  I lift my glass up to the sky. “Hael hael Nahoeg. Hael hael you, Forgall.” Brighid joins in and we cheer again.

  Then we head inside and join the party.

  3.

  HENRAEK

  It’s not until my hand touches the doorknob that I realize I’m shaking. It’s not fear, for there’s no longer anything to fear. Maybe it’s residual adrenaline, or the realization that this chapter in my life has finally come to an end. I tell myself that’s not a bad thing, not by any means. I say it twice.

  I give myself a once-over as I do every time I come home – Emeríann and I both promised the boys that we’d never bring the streets inside our apartment – and decide I’m clean enough. No blood.

  I open the door and find the boys sitting on the couch, Donael sketching something on a piece of paper and Cobb clicking at him, telling him what to draw. Silas is perched on the back of the couch, as if supervising. The three of them look up as soon as they hear me. Donael sits up straighter. Cobb clicks. Silas coos.

  “You were supposed to be home an hour ago,” Donael says to me.

  I slide my field pack off my shoulder and set it on the ground. “Things took a little longer than I’d expected. Are you OK?”

  “Yeah,” he says, returning to his pad. “But I was starting to get nervous.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t have a chance to call.”

  When they first came here, they would both tackle me every time I came home, so terrified were they of being left alone again. After their seeing what happened to Walleus, I can’t blame them. But in the last two months, they’ve been much more reserved – uninterested might be a harsher way to put it – upon my arrival. Emeríann says they’re just becoming comfortable here and that it’s a good thing, but I can’t help wondering if Donael figures there are only a certain amount of times I can go out before I don’t come back, and if he’s preparing himself for that day.

  I kick off my boots then go to the kitchen, grab the water pitcher, and pour myself half a glass of cloudy liquid. I could really go for more, but we won’t be able to refill it for another day and I want to leave some for Emeríann and the boys. I plop down beside Donael, glance at his drawing.

  “Is that a race car?”

  “Targeted bomb. Like a spaceship, but, you know, it blows up.”

  Wonderful. This is definitely what I need.

  “Cobb used to make them with a modeling tablet but…”

  He doesn’t need to finish his sentence. He can’t anymore after your rebel friends blew up the Gallery and destroyed one of Cobb’s favorite toys.

  I change topics. “Have you two eaten yet?”

  “I heated up some leftovers for us,” Donael says. Cobb clicks and points at something on the paper. “I know. That’s what you told me to draw.” This seems to satisfy Cobb well enough.

  “You still want to do movie night or are you otherwise occupied for the evening?”

  I try not to let an edge creep into my voice, though it’s hard. Not so much because Donael is distracted, but because it is Cobb who is distracting him. I understand that he has had about the worst luck imaginable – on top of suffering from a crippling blood disease, his mother died when she tried to abort him, and he saw his father’s dead body lying in a pool of blood on the carpet of their rowhouse – but that doesn’t stop me from not liking him very much. One of the first thoughts I had after hugging Donael for the first time in years was a vision of us becoming the halcyon nuclear family, him and Emeríann and me. Then Cobb came out from the panic room and has been tarnishing that vision ever since. I’ve never been able to say this aloud, not even to Emeríann, because I realize it makes me a horrible person. But that doesn’t mean I can’t feel it. For six years all I wanted was to be with my son, and now that I finally have him, I’m still not completely with him.

  “Well, I guess I’ll go do something else for a little while and you just let me know when you’re ready.”

  I start to push myself up off the couch when Donael grabs my arm.

  “Dad, just chill. I’m trying to finish this for Cobb.”

  And the way he says Dad coupled with the lazy admonition, with its implicit intimacy and familiarity, makes a warmth bloom inside my chest.

  “OK. I’m going to grab some food while you’re finishing. Should I bring something for you two or are you just going to eat my dinner?”

  Donael says, “Probably the second.” Cobb clicks in accord.

  “Fair enough.”

  In the kitchen, I sniff the container of grey meat in some sort of curry sauce that Emeríann concocted, deem it good enough for an empty stomach, and dump it on a relatively clean plate along with some browning carrots. I put a few chunks of salt on the side for Silas. Since we’ve been so busy rooting out and beating down the Tathadann forces, we haven’t had much time to focus on logistical issues, like public transportation or rebuilding the education system. Or getting the water plants properly up and running again. What seemed like such a brilliant tactical plan six months ago has since become a gigantic pain in
the ass.

  The water will be one of the first things addressed after the ceremony tomorrow, with constant power a quick second. Once Eitan is officially ours again, we will issue a call for a citizen-based congress to work with us to rebuild the city, each person having as equal a vote as the next, a true egalitarian government comprised of the people, working for the benefit of the people through direct action. No one will get paid, so it will truly be a labor of love and weed out those looking for a cushy, worthless job. Which was mostly what the Tathadann was.

  The trickiest part will be navigating the various interests. While everyone was in favor of destroying the Tathadann, there have been divergent positions on how far this citizen congress goes. The majority is in line with my and Emeríann’s vision. Some conservatives think we’ve gone too far, but a small cadre of insurgents – some from Eitan proper, some bussed in to help the fight – has been agitating for a complete dissolution of rule. My problem with them isn’t that I don’t think the people of Eitan can govern themselves – that’s what this congress is supposed to be, after all – but more an issue of semantics. We don’t see this congress as a ruling party, but instead a reflection of the people’s will. The people tell the congress what to do and they do it. If the people don’t like it, the members are removed and replaced with new representatives. It seems intuitive to me, but the cadre has been vocal in its displeasure. For now, they’re just going to have to deal with it.

  Donael hands the pad to Cobb when I come back, then grabs the coffee table and adjusts it to rest his feet as he slides down into the couch. Surprisingly, in the time he’s been here, he’s never once complained about the couch, or a somewhat-ergonomic petri dish as Emeríann has called it on occasion. Cobb examines the drawing a moment before setting it on the floor, while Silas struts over to the arm beside me and pecks at the salt.

  “Which one tonight?” I say to them. Donael hands Cobb a thick black cloth, identical to the one in his hands, and they drape them over their eyes.