Hector sniffed loudly. “Without your cheat...I mean, sword...I don’t see that happening.” Now he turned back to face them, his voice thick with judgment. “And I have no intention of taking you two anywhere near a bar. Ever.”
“Don’t act like you’re in charge, Hector,” Angst said sharply. “You aren’t.”
As Hector lifted a warning finger, Tarness and Dallow rode between them, cutting off any chance of a rebuttal.
“It’s getting late. We should find a place to set up camp,” Dallow advised, changing the subject.
“I’ll go off trail and see if I can find a clearing for the tents.” Tarness’s large obsidian swifen leaped gracefully over a log and trotted into the forest.
“Tents?” Victoria whispered to Angst.
“For sleeping in?” Angst replied snappishly, still defensive from his argument with Hector.
“I’m not stupid, Angst. I brought one, I just hoped we would stay at an inn,” she said wistfully. “And, well, I... It’s just that I...”
“You’ve never been camping?” he asked with a wry grin.
She shook her head sheepishly.
“You’ll be fine,” Angst whispered. “We’ll pitch your tent close to mine so my snoring drowns out any noises from the woods.”
“Noises?” she asked warily.
“You’ll be fine, really. It’s fun,” Angst said, trying to sound positive.
The discussion between Hector and Victoria at the campsite was less than cordial. He threatened to leave if she didn’t. She said that being princess meant she outranked him and he would do as he was told. They were both red-cheeked and spitting by the end of it. Angst finally separated them when Hector threatened to bend her over his knee. Victoria stormed off to set up her tent, and Hector left camp to “collect firewood” for over an hour.
Tori clumsily began assembling her new tent next to Angst’s, making high-pitched grunting noises when her rope-lines wouldn’t cooperate.
“Can’t I just stay with you?” Tori asked in frustration.
“What?” Angst said, louder than he’d intended, making her start in surprise. “No! I mean, I’m sorry, Tori, but that wouldn’t be appropriate. These tents are very small and—”
“Fine!” she said, turning her back to him. Her long blond hair, wet from the now-sleeting snow, whipped around, slapping her in the cheek and eye. She seemed to be shivering, or crying, or both. Angst couldn’t tell and he felt helpless.
“Tori?” he pleaded, resting a hand on one of her shoulders.
She yanked her shoulder away and began to wrestle with her mess of a tent once again. Angst waited several moments before shuffling over to the others. Dallow was on a knee, digging bread and cheese from the food pack.
“We don’t really have time for dinner before the storm comes,” Dallow said, looking up, “but personally I’m not that hungry.”
Hector returned, without wood, and quickly put his tent together. When he discovered Victoria’s mess, he grunted in frustration and stomped over to her.
“You’re doing it wrong. You need to take this,” he grabbed a tent stake roughly from her hand, “and put it there.”
Rather than crumpling in tears, she spun on Hector. “Give me that!” she ordered, yanking the stake out of his hand. “I didn’t command you to help me, so go be useless somewhere else, hater.”
Hector’s chest filled with air as he prepared to argue, but then he apparently reconsidered. “Of course, Your Highness.” He spun on his heel and returned to the others. “I’m going to bed.”
The storm dumped windy sheets of icy rain and sleet on them, chasing everyone to their tents soon after dinner. Angst loved this—sleeping outdoors, listening to rain pattering on the thick canvas. He always felt he was getting away with something, that the thin layer of cloth safety shouldn’t be enough to keep him warm and cozy.
But, just as he began to fall into snoring, he heard something. At first, he tried to ignore the noise, but then he recognized the sound outside his tent as whimpering. Before long, the whimper became a cry, and finally a voice.
“Angst?” Victoria asked from the other side of the tent flap.
His eyes snapped wide open. He pulled back the flap and was rewarded with a slap of cold wet air. He could barely see more than a shadow of Victoria.
“Tori, why are you out of your tent?” he asked with sleepy concern. “It’s pouring.”
“It...it,” she sobbed. “It collapsed an hour ago.”
Angst sighed deeply. “We can’t get it back up tonight.” He was still groggy with almost-sleep and trying to understand.
“Please, Angst, can’t I just...stay in here?” she said with a whimper, her teeth chattering in the cold, sleeting rain.
“No, Tori. There’s no way that would work,” he replied firmly.
Her cries became louder as the thunder made her jump.
“Okay, okay. We’ll just...” he thought for a minute. “We’ll figure it out.”
“Thank you,” she choked out, still sobbing.
“Look, you’re going to have to get out of your wet clothes.” Angst tried his best to sound like this was a normal everyday sort of thing.
“What?” Tori asked. “I’d be naked.”
“If you don’t, you’ll get sick,” he said. “I’ve got a towel, a dry tunic, and I can’t see a thing. Hurry up.”
He sat up to dig through his pack and could hear her wet clothes slapping the mud outside the tent as they came off.
He handed her his small towel. “Do your best to towel off as you come into the tent. We don’t want anything getting wet.”
Tori toweled herself while entering as quickly as she could, awkwardly climbing over Angst in the process, and plopped herself at the other end of his sleeping pad. He could only assume she was naked as birth.
“I am naked, and cold, so please try to stop thinking about that,” she replied between chattering teeth.
Angst swallowed hard. “I’m doing my best.” He looked away as he handed her the shirt.
Victoria started to chuckle as she dried herself off more thoroughly.
“What?” Angst asked.
“You turned away, and you can’t even see me.” Tori took the shirt. Her teeth clicked together loudly as she shivered her way into it.
Angst chuckled a little before realizing he had only one mat to sleep on and two blankets to sleep under. Trying his best not to think about it, he lifted up the blanket as she shimmied into the space next to him. She shivered violently as he did his best to inch away, placing an invisible wall between them.
“Angst, please,” she pleaded between shallow breaths. “Nothing’s going to happen. I’m freezing.”
“All you’ve got on is my shirt,” he said, still pulled away in his safe place.
Victoria’s shivers worsened into shaking. Angst finally gave in and inched his arm under her head so it rested on his chest. She draped herself over him. He rubbed her back and shoulder vigorously to help generate heat.
“You are freezing,” he said with a shudder. “You should go back outside before I get sick.”
“Ha ha,” she said. “Just lie there and be warm.”
18
His dreams were gone. Immediately after bonding with Chryslaenor, Angst’s dreams and visions had been replaced with lost histories of those who’d wielded the foci. He forgot most of the dreams shortly after waking, but he always had the sense the stories were trying to teach him. After Angst removed the bond with Chryslaenor, his nights had once again become restless, or useless. Originally, he’d hoped the foci stories would continue, but when he’d realized they were gone, he’d hoped his own dreams would return. There was nothing. When Angst could fall asleep, it felt as though he would only doze a few minutes in spite of hours passing. Without dreams, remembered or not, there seemed to be no passage of time, and thus very little rest.
After settling in as best he could next to the young princess, Angst was both surprised at how qu
ickly he had fallen asleep, and relieved to find himself here. Wherever here was. Angst lifted his hand and saw right through it. His fingers, his toes, his entire body was transparent and unable to touch anything, including the ground. Angst did not feel hungry, nor tired, he was merely there to watch. It was exactly as he remembered his foci dreams, and Angst readied himself to observe a story while he slept.
Early morning sunlight peeked through the trees surrounding him. Frost had bitten the leaves on the ground, leaving white tooth marks wherever it fed and making Angst grateful he couldn’t feel the cold in his present state. He spied an old moss and ivy-covered cottage missing half its roof, long abandoned by residents or caretakers. Without taking a step, Angst found himself inside, looking down at Rose.
His young friend lay in a fetal position on the grimy floor. Her left hand gripped Chryslaenor by the hilt as though she were ready to fight. A very dim blue glow surrounded the great blade, as if some part of the foci was trying to protect her. He felt a twinge, an ache inside himself, in that place where the bond had been. Angst reached for the foci but, before he could touch the hilt, the sword pulled away.
“Who’s there?” Rose asked, sitting up with a start.
Angst instinctively tried to pull back but merely jerked awkwardly as he floated overhead. Had he moved the blade? He reached for Chryslaenor once more but it was now too far, and Angst tore his gaze from the blade to watch Rose. Even in the dull light of the foci, he could see she was a mess. She had always been thin, but now appeared sickly, as though wasting away. Rose’s pallor and sunken cheeks gave her a haggard gaunt look, and her large dark eyes protruded unnaturally. Blotchy circles had formed under her eyes, and her long red hair was thin and reedy.
“Do we always have to get up at the crack of dawn?” she grumbled.
Rose stood shakily, the sword hilt lifting with her hand as though by a puppeteer’s strings. She took several purposeful steps forward to the entrance, the heavy burden attached to her hand dragging behind. The tip of Chryslaenor carved a deep gouge into the cabin floor, and Angst could see that every movement took its toll on her.
“How about eggs and bacon this morning?” Rose asked with sarcastic cheerfulness, obviously mocking the situation. “Did you ever think I may want to actually chew and digest my food?”
Angst didn’t understand the question but, looking around quickly, realized she had to be talking to his sword. He followed her out of the cabin and into the wintery morning. Rose moved so slowly, Angst assumed she still had to be near Unsel—though he didn’t recognize these woods or even these trees. Rose drew in a deep breath of morning, and frosty air escaped her chapped lips.
“At least I’m warm. I suppose that’s your doing,” she said, looking down at Chryslaenor. “Attract something quickly, will you, so we can get wherever we’re going and I can kill the bastard doing this to me.”
A loud roar sounded from the woods. Instinctively, he reached over his shoulder, and then to his side, only to find himself weaponless. He felt naked, and helpless, as something far down the trail rushed toward Rose on four massive legs. The creature ran past an opening in the trees, and sunlight reflected off thick burgundy fur. It was a giant red bear, easily nine feet high on all fours.
“Rose, run!” Angst called out in frustration, though his warning was useless.
The beast’s every step landed with a terrifying thud, shaking the nearby forest floor. The monster had to weigh two thousand pounds or more and looked as hungry, and almost as upset, as Rose. As it approached, the red bear stood on its haunches, raising its large clawed paws high in the air, ready to swing down and rip the life from his friend.
“We didn’t have to wait as long this time,” she said fiercely, licking her lips.
Rose dragged the reluctant sword about to face her attacker. Black lightning trickled and beaded along the blade’s edge as though Chryslaenor had been pulled from a lake of oil. The bear loosed a ferocious roar as Rose took a step closer. Dark lightning now completely encompassed the blade, and small dark bolts struck the ground, kicking up debris and scorching the earth. When the red bear was within arm’s reach, black lighting shot out of Rose’s eye and through the sword to wrap around the giant monster.
Rose held Chryslaenor aloft, and bands of the dark lightning rippled between her and the animal, lifting it into the air as it howled in pain. Strength and life drained from the bear and—to his amazement—it compressed, as though all the air in it was being sucked out. Rose breathed deep, her vitality and health visibly returning. Rose’s sunken cheeks filled, she stood straight, and her pale complexion no longer appeared sickly.
As Rose smiled, the dream began to fade.
“Wait, no!” he yelled, reaching out for Rose.
Angst felt a hand on his transparent arm and jerked it back in surprise. He looked over to see a ghostly vision of Victoria staring at Rose with worry and sorrow in her eyes. In a surreal moment, she turned her head to face him.
“At least we know she’s safe,” Victoria said.
Before Angst could reply, the dream was gone, and he returned to his dreamless slumber.
Back in the woods, Rose’s brow furrowed. She lowered the sword and looked from side to side. For the first time in days, she felt a tiny bit of hope.
“Angst?” she called out into the empty woods.
Queen Isabelle no longer slept well. Since the attack in her room, she did not feel safe in her own home. The steel-beaked cavastil bird was not only to blame for the loss of her eye, but seemed a harbinger of the change she could feel coming. Her deceased husband, the king, had put great trust in intuition—his had been uncanny in its depth and knowing—and she could only honor him by trusting her own. The changes in Ehrde caused her great fret late into every night, forcing her to cram sleep into the three or four hours before sunrise.
This lack of sleep wore on her, requiring her to put a great amount of effort into her attire and makeup so no one would have a clue how weary she truly was. Unfortunately, the dark navy velvet dress she wore fit her heavy figure like a glove. Piping accentuated her breasts and waist, in a somewhat flattering manner. The dramatic light red gem she wore hung heavily from her neck, complimenting the red gems in her crown. Every ounce of fabric, every piece of jewelry weighed greatly as she considered her own intuition. The magics had invaded her daughter, they had invaded her, they had invaded Unsel, and now she felt this was only the beginning.
She refocused. This overly thorough briefing by Rook confirmed everything Angst had said in painful detail. Isabelle did her best to appear interested and alert until she could take no more.
“Lieutenant,” the queen said, concluding the conversation. “Thank you for your comprehension explanation, and your sacrifice.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Rook replied, doing his best to bow, in spite of the tightness in his leg.
He reluctantly leaned on Janda, who had insisted on joining him. Was bringing her a mistake? The crown had formally recognized and rewarded Janda’s efforts during the crisis, but she was still a magic-wielder. Even now, it was obvious the queen had little patience with her presence. Isabelle had made scant eye contact with Janda throughout Rook’s detailed retelling of his recent adventure. He felt bad for how the queen treated her, but when he looked into Janda’s eyes, Rook saw only pride and strength.
She stood tall, her strawberry blond hair framing a face sprinkled with freckles. Sparkling green eyes met Rook’s with encouragement.
“My queen,” Rook began, ignoring her dismissal. “There is one more thing.”
“That is all, Rook,” the Captain Guard said sternly.
“No, it’s okay,” the queen corrected Tyrell before turning back to Rook. “You’ve earned your audience, Lieutenant.”
Before he could go on, Alloria hustled awkwardly into the room and past Janda and Rook, stopping within feet of the throne. The young woman was out of breath and appeared uncomfortable in her formal attire. Her dress looked new, and
mimicked everything the queen would wear. Fashioned of dark purple velvet, the high-necked dress dripped with beaded accents and piping that unnecessarily accentuated her curviness, much like Isabelle’s. Alloria looked stifled, and pressed her hand to her chest as if holding her lungs in while she bowed.
“Angst and the others fought bravely, and many other magic-wielders would be honored to defend Unsel.” Tyrell bristled, and the queen raised a warning eyebrow, but Rook plunged on. “I couldn’t do anything to defend against these creatures, but they could.” Rook did his best to sell the idea. “We need them, Your Majesty. A guard comprised of magic-wielders could be of great service.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. That is all.” The queen nodded to the exit.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Defeated, Rook did the only thing he could—he bowed respectfully.
A glare flashed in Janda’s eyes as she bowed curtly before helping him toward the exit.
“What do you need, my dear,” Queen Isabelle asked a gasping Alloria.
“Your Majesty, she’s gone,” Alloria exclaimed between deep breaths. She walked to the queen and handed her a note. “The princess went with Angst.”
The queen noted that Rook and Janda glanced at each other before leaving the room. Alloria should have waited for their departure. Isabelle took the note with her ring-laden hand, and skimmed the page quickly. She handed the note to Tyrell, who read it slowly, his cheeks flushing more by the second.
“It seems Victoria has made her decision,” Isabelle stated. She looked sad and tired. “We will need to proceed with my plan to make you the next in line. The throne needs a successor.” The queen nodded toward the empty seat next to the throne.
Alloria lifted her dress and hastily moved to sit beside Isabelle. She appeared nervous, and her eyes were wide and as she did her best to be attentive without showing excitement.
The queen tapped a finger to her lips as she thought. “Alloria, did you hear Rook’s proposal?”
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