by Emma Hamm
“There were many of us there, so many that the animals left the mountains alone, because even they knew that only magical creatures could live there.
“But even more than that, there were Beastkin who were immortal.”
Both Sigrid and Camilla had gasped at that, their minds whirling with the possibilities. Immortal? Creatures who couldn’t die, no matter who tried to kill them?
Mother had laughed at their questions.
“No, children. They could be killed. They were not impervious to the blade of a sword. But they would live forever if they wished and stayed out of trouble.
“Among them was the greatest of all Beastkin. Maja. Mother of all, and the eternal matriarch who was the first to give flight to the great phoenix of old.
“She was the one who first breathed life into the other Beastkin. It’s said her tears could heal even mortal wounds, and that she watched over all her children with a shrewd eye. That’s where the great river comes from, the one that runs from Bymere all the way through Wildewyn. Legends say when the first Beastkin climbed down from the mountains, Maja cried so much that the world overflowed with her tears.”
Sigrid had shifted, looking up at their shared mother with large eyes. “Why did she cry? Isn’t it a good thing that the Beastkin came down? We live in harmony with the humans now?”
Shadows darkened Mother’s eyes. She’d shook her head, reached down for Sigrid’s hands, and squeezed them tight. “You are far too kind for your own good, little Sigrid. Someday, that will be your undoing I worry.
“Maja cried because she had seen the future. She knew what the humans would do to her children, and there was nothing she could do to stop them. They would put them in gilded cages, only taken out to fight in defense of a people who did not truly love us. That is the greatest story of them all.
“For even though she didn’t agree with the choices her children had made, she let them go. For the love in her heart was far greater than the worry in her stomach.”
Sigrid squeezed Mother’s hands back and looked at Camilla. “But, if she knew it would be bad, why wouldn’t she just tell them?”
Mother had shrugged and released Sigrid back to Camilla’s arms. “No one knows. Perhaps she didn’t know it would be like this. Or perhaps, she knew there was a greater story coming and that she couldn’t intervene. Someday, one of us will travel back into those mountains and find the ancients.
“It’s said they know secrets that the Beastkin have long forgotten. Secrets that could change the world forever.”
Mother’s voice faded from her mind and melded with Camilla’s on top of the keep. Her sister pulled her hands out of Sigrid’s.
“What are you thinking? Sigrid, those are just stories! There’s no such thing as ancients. There’s no secret power in this world that will make the Beastkin better. Don’t you see? Mother used to tell us those stories just to get us to quiet down. We were unruly children. It was hard enough to keep us entertained without stories that would make us have nightmares.”
“I don’t think that’s what it is.” Sigrid shrugged. “In any sense, I can’t stay here.”
“Why not?”
“You’ve seen that I’m different from the rest of them. They don’t look at me like a Beastkin. They already look at me like I’m some kind of paragon. The longer I’m here, the sooner they’ll discover that’s entirely false. Then where will they be? The dragon female who saved them is just a woman, and they’re just Beastkin. And the world isn’t what they think it is.”
“Sigrid…” Camilla’s voice trailed off, and she stared down at the Beastkin below them.
In some way, her sister had to realize Sigrid was right. She didn’t belong here in this house filled with animals. The mere dirt offended her, more than it had when they were traveling. This place was supposed to be a home, and instead, it felt like a barn.
Finally, Camilla cursed and nodded. “What’s the plan then? What are you thinking?”
“We’re supposed to have a gathering in an hour or so. Jabbar wanted to address the crowd, something about his new plans for how we’re going to engage any human who comes to our doors. He doesn’t want the Earthen King sending any more messengers without us knowing.”
“And?” Camilla asked when Sigrid paused.
“There’s a rise over where we usually meet. Up on the mountain peak, where I can be visible and seen. I’ll address the rest of them over Jabbar, let them know that humans are friends. That we cannot view them as an enemy or they will become one. Then, I want you to shoot me with an arrow.”
The long pause between them stretched until she thought Camilla had stopped breathing. Her friend stared at her in shock before shaking her head.
“What?”
“Not fatally. Just through the shoulder but close enough so it’ll look as though I had died. Something like that should do well enough to convince people that we were attacked, and that the matriarch was the target.”
Camilla scoffed. “They’ll think it was the humans. This will backfire tremendously.”
“Not if you convince them that you saw a Beastkin with the arrow. We’ll carve a mark on it, one that the Wildewyn beasts will recognize from Bymere. It’s a simple thing to do, really. Cause a little bit of mistrust between the two groups so they all take a step back and look at their actions.”
A chip of the stone roof loosened beneath her foot and skittered down the steep edge. Sigrid listened for its strike to the ground, the shattering sound similar to the pain she felt in her chest.
“I—” Camilla hesitated, then licked her lips. “Then what?”
“We’ll tip the arrow in verdant poison. You remember the frogs we used to catch when we were little? Those will send someone into a deep sleep. It’s like death, but they’ll wake up after a time. Dangerous, perhaps, but I remember the amount that we’ll need to use. You’ll bury me with the rest of them, and then, when all is said and done, I’ll dig myself back out.”
“Are you going to tell Raheem?” Camilla asked. “You know he’s not due back for a little while.”
“I sent a message.” The pigeon had been disgruntled at being used so early in the morning, but Sigrid was confident it would find Raheem in time. “If he gets back, then he’ll help dig me out of the grave. If not, I think I can manage on my own.”
“I don’t like it.” There was something hidden in Camilla’s gaze, something that spoke of an age old heartbreak and a vast desire to fix something that would forever be broken. “I don’t think you have to run from these people, Sigrid. I think you could stay and we could fix this. Together.”
“We both know that’s not true.” She touched a finger to Camilla’s chin. “I don’t expect to be gone forever, just enough to find out where we came from. Who we are. If I don’t find these things out soon I feel as though I’m going to burst.”
“You can’t be a real Beastkin until you know the answers to these questions, can you?” Camilla’s voice was quiet, a whisper on the wind as silent as an owl’s wings. “I’m afraid for you.”
“You should be afraid for yourself,” Sigrid said, her lips quirking in a smile. “I want you to take over for me. Let them know that you are my successor. That you are the only one I would choose to be Matriarch after me.”
“Brynhild is bigger and stronger.”
“But no one has a mind like yours. No one understands the Beastkin so thoroughly, with so much kindness and the ability to see what others do not. I want you to lead these people out of the darkness and into your own version of light.” Sigrid tapped her chin for good measure. “That’s final, Camilla. You’ll do better than you think.”
A ragged sound of frustration and sadness tore out of her friend’s chest. “I don't want to do any of this without you, Sigrid.”
“We don’t often get what we want,” Sigrid replied.
She stared down at the kingdom she’d created and marveled at how much could change so quickly. She wanted to help them, but in that d
esire came her own need for freedom. She’d traded cages for cages her entire life. Just once, she wanted to be selfish.
She wanted to be free.
---
They all gathered in the square of the keep. Perhaps they were waiting for her, perhaps they weren’t. Sigrid wasn’t really sure if Jabbar would start his speech without her.
She thought he would. He’d never liked sharing the spotlight when it didn’t suit his means, and he wanted them to disregard anything she had to say. Sigrid was a thorn in his side, because she didn’t think the Beastkin could be so ready to break away from the humans. A shame he didn’t see the world the way she did.
Sigrid spread her leathery wings wide and circled the courtyard one more time before making her way to the spot where she would, effectively die. She thought in this moment she would be a little uncomfortable. Who wouldn’t be?
Instead, she had complete trust in Camilla’s ability to do everything exactly as she was supposed to. There wasn’t a bone in her sister’s body that would let her make a mistake in this moment.
Her only regret was that Raheem wasn’t here. He’d gone off to investigate the rest of the kingdom for her, and now he was going to return only to hear about her death. The messenger pigeon had returned empty-handed, but that wasn’t like Raheem. He would have sent her a message as well, one that would have yelled at her for making foolish decisions. That she was too much like Nadir.
It was too late to stop now.
She landed on the stone ledge where she’d made so many difficult choices. Settling down comfortably, she folded her wings at her sides and shook herself. The change shuddered through her being until she was a woman once again, plain gown hugging her curves with a golden mask in her hand.
This would be the last time she saw the metal apparel. It needed to stay here with her sisters, so they would have something to remember her by when the world felt as though it was falling down around their ears. It wouldn’t be an easy loss for them. Sigrid had always been something like the glue that kept them all together. The others were so much more prone to arguing with each other, fighting, throwing tantrums….
She couldn’t worry about them anymore. She’d already made this choice, and it was the right one. It had to be.
Jabbar’s voice reached her at the cliff edge where he’d already begun without her. In some ways, she was correct. The man didn’t want anything to do with her, because he thought she was going to mess with him.
Sadly, she was right about his speech as well.
“We cannot allow humans anywhere near our homelands!” he shouted, his voice carrying with it an air of crazed madness. “They want to take everything we have fought for. What reason have they to let us have these lands without a fight? They will make sure we regret every instance of our rebellion, and that all starts with the first human to take foot in our lands without permission! It is already starting, brothers and sisters! And it has only just begun.”
His insanity ran deep inside his being. Why hadn’t Sigrid seen that from the first moment she met him? Even in their home country of Bymere, he’d been a radical. There was a violent streak of hate in him that he couldn’t see past, and that was going to drown him.
She cupped her hands around her mouth and let out a whooping call. It echoed through the air, striking down upon the Beastkin crowd like arrows hailing from the sky.
They all paused in their movements, then looked up at her where she stood on the cliff edge.
They wouldn’t be able to see her face, so she would need to make things a little easier for them. Sigrid wasn’t one to speak of her emotions often. It felt wrong to give them voice when she already hated them so much. But it was important now that they not misunderstand her. They needed to get every inch of her knowledge before she tore their world away from them.
“Brothers and sisters!” she called. “Do not listen to these poisonous words for that is all they are! Poison to turn your mind away from the future which we could have!”
A ripple spread through the crowd. Some of the Beastkin turned to see her, and she knew these were the ones who thought she was the better fit as a ruler. They were the ones whose opinions she could easily change. It was the ones who looked to Jabbar for his reaction that would be much more difficult for her to convince.
“The humans are not monsters,” she said, letting the wind carry her voice to the Beastkin below her. “They want to leave us alone. This is what the Wildewyn King told me, and I believe him!”
Jabbar’s laughter filled the air like a cloud had passed over the sun. “You believe him? The king of fools who kept your people in cages? I know you have a soft touch, Sigrid, but I thought you would be more inclined to condemn him for all the things he has done to you and your sisters.”
“I don’t claim what he did was right,” she replied. “I don’t claim that we should remain in cages. I acquired this kingdom for us in a political deal, not through bloodshed for violence. This is the direction we should turn our minds. How can we convince the people of Wildewyn that we deserve what we have taken? How can we assist them so that, in return, they assist us? This is the life that we have desired for so long. To be seen as people, not as animals.”
For a second, she thought she might have them. The Beastkin below murmured among each other. Maybe Camilla was right. After all this time watching them, Sigrid might have been wrong. They might have wanted more than just animalistic natures that beckoned them into the forests where they would disappear forever.
Then, one of her own sisters raised her voice. “We don’t want to be humans, Sigrid. That’s something you could never understand, because you always favored them over us. But we don’t want to be like them. We want to create a kingdom of our own, not mimic something humans have done for centuries. Look where’s it’s gotten them! Nothing but war and violence. We can stop that right now.”
As quickly as she had gotten their attention, she lost it. They turned in on each other, voicing words of agreement that the humans had done so many wrong things. No Beastkin wanted to be like the humans.
Why would they? Humans had kept them in cages. Humans were the ones who had made them work or hunted them nearly to extinction.
She could almost feel the surge of triumph that made Jabbar’s back straighten and his chest puff out. He could control the crowd of Beastkin with a single word, and he knew in that moment he had won.
Or, at least, he thought he had won.
Sigrid glanced toward the tower where Camilla was waiting. The sunlight glinted off the metal point of the arrow pointed directly at her.
It could have been no one else. She didn’t trust even Raheem to shoot her from such a distance. But she had trained her entire life with Camilla by her side and knew how dangerous her sister was with a bow. If she wanted to shoot an apple off a mountain peak, Sigrid thought she might be able to do it.
Breathing out a slow breath, Sigrid nodded. “I ask you to trust me, Beastkin brothers and sisters. Did I not fight for you? Did I not destroy a city and rend another dragon from the sky? How else can I prove myself to you? That I seek only your best interest at heart?”
Jabbar pointed up to her. “You are nothing more than a child. Never been married. Never had children. You haven’t experienced enough of life to be able to guide us.”
If she could have torn out his throat where he stood, she would have. The man had no right to judge her knowledge based on a limited number of years. She had experienced more in her time than most her age. That didn’t change how much she knew, or what was right and what was wrong.
“I am begging you now, my people, my family, my friends. Do not turn your eyes away from the humans so easily, or we will all be lost.” She tried to pour all her feelings and worries into the words, but knew they would be lost under the swelling wave of hatred pouring out of Jabbar.
For a moment, she thought she could almost see it. The burning ties of anger and rage that had festered inside him for so long. They stret
ched out toward her people and tangled around throats, wrists, ankles, anything they could find that would bind the users until they couldn’t think, breathe, or hear anything but his twisted words.
“They won't listen to you on this, Sigrid,” Jabbar called back. “They need to listen to me now, so they will remain safe.”
“Safety isn’t hiding away in caves or creating a dark space where you can remain until you rot,” she replied. “Safety isn’t a place; it’s a state of mind.”
The laughter which erupted from his mouth would echo in her mind until the end of time.
She looked back toward the window and gave the slightest of nods. Her people wouldn’t have seen it. They weren’t even looking at her anymore as Jabbar continued with his poisonous talk.
If one of them had noticed, they would have seen her eyes locked on a figure in the distance, and that she poured so much love into the look that she could hardly breathe.
As the arrow whistled through the air, Sigrid let out a soft sigh. “It could only be you,” she said quietly, hoping the words would fly on the winds to her dearest of sisters. “I could only trust you with this.”
The arrow thudded into her torso with a blistering crack between her ribs. The pain didn’t register at once. Instead, all she could feel was the cold spread of the poison they'd doused it in.
Almost immediately, she felt it weave into her blood. The drug made her body sleepy, but her mind all the sharper. It had been used many times in a king’s interrogation. Let the mind see all that was done to the body but never have the option to stop what was happening.
She staggered, falling to a knee and pressing her hand to the wound.
A lone scream lifted into the air, a wail of shock and anger. At least her people were reacting. That was the plan, even if it made her heart hurt.
There was the pain. It started quietly at first, something so small that wouldn’t make her entire body rebel until it realized something foreign was imbedded there.