Mordred-Night Wolves

by Lisa Daniels

  Travel took them about two weeks, and Kiara was so done with it all. Her own guards preferred each other's company to hers. None of the Kanthians spoke to her. Except for the ambassador, once, but only to say to one of the guards, who passed it on to her, “It's considered bad luck for us to speak to the chosen bride before their wedding.”

  Well then. So her new hosts wouldn't have the dignity to even address her. Great. Leaving her to hear second-hand accounts from the guards, who were reluctant to talk to the Kanthians as well.

  Accounts of living in a grand city, with a lake enchanted by the finest lightweavers, and a palace above the lake that shone like a beacon of hope. They also talked about the Highborn that walked among them, and how blessed a woman was if she was selected to become the wife of a Highborn.

  Not that Kiara felt particularly blessed. Cursed, more like.

  When they arrived in Kanthus, she refused to let herself be taken in by the foreign city's beauty, though it did glow rather impressively in the distance. The city itself appeared to have several lakes, all of them a neon blue in color, with the glow of fish flitting under the surfaces, and the boats that bobbed on top, along with the canals and barges that wove between the city streets and bridges. Kiara's home kingdom of Fjorn had the Forest of Light surrounding it, along with mountain chains and uneven terrain. Kanthus loved its bridges and huge lakes that spotted along the city, along with marshy, boggy land surrounding the outer edges.

  Fen lands rimmed the western side with a sickly green glow. The “Quaking Bogs” lay to the right, with that same awful color. And apparently, beyond the city, they needed to be wary of muskeg, a type of bog that sunk the unwary.

  Appropriate, Kiara supposed, for a so-called kingdom of monsters to dwell in a swamp. Forests and shrubs saturated in brackish water, fed from an ancient sea.

  No wonder the night hordes had difficulty invading this place. Nothing but swamp to trudge through. No sane person would even bother. From what Kiara saw, the Kanthians used the fens as part of their main agriculture. She saw glowing humans working in the segmented fields, others moving around the terrain in boats.

  The wheels of the carriage were slick with mud, as were most of the disgruntled guards. The Kanthians, of course, didn't mind, which led Kiara's escorts to refer to them as “mud men.” For such a “grand” city, it did have an awful lot of bridges, though the lakes glowed prettily.

  They ground to a halt after crossing a huge bridge that must have gone on for a good half-mile, the procession milling in front of a heavy portcullis manned by guards. Kiara leaned out the window to try and eavesdrop on what was happening, and some of her guards went up to see as well.

  Instantly, one rushed back, red-faced. “They're going to send us away,” he blustered. “Only you're allowed to go in. But you won't have any protection.”

  “I would think you to be glad of the opportunity to return home,” Kiara replied, trying not to let fear show on her face. “I will be fine. It is, alas... my royal duty.”

  Perhaps she put on the voice too strong, and the hand motion to her head might have been a little overdone, since the guard rolled his eyes. “You're incorrigible. Princess, we're here for your protection. This is what we're paid for.”

  “And you've just been told you can no longer protect me. Go and protect a tavern or something.” Kiara then sighed, turning serious. “I can't pretend I like it, but right now, we're at our host's mercy. Best not to push them any further than necessary. If you want, stay around for a few weeks. I'll try and send you messages to wherever you choose to lodge, and if all is well, then you may leave. Sound okay?”

  The guard remained silent a moment before nodding, jaw set grimly. “That's probably one of the most sensible things I've heard you say, Princess.”

  “I try.” She grinned at him. Her grin faded when her father's guards were forced to march away, and her carriage trundled through the portcullis, rolling to that imposing palace all alone, surrounded by people of an unfamiliar culture. Most of her bravado threatened to vanish. Hard to be brave when she knew no one. When people refused to talk to her, because of the whole bad luck superstition. And, come to think of it, it was pretty darking stupid of them to send away people who might have been able to help her settle in better.

  How exactly did they plan for her to do anything? Just point and grunt? Her eyes trailed over the shimmering lake below, filled with a pink illuminated flower, resting on a kind of pad. Lilies? Lotus? She didn't know. She tucked her hands into her heavy fur robe pockets, after popping the hood over her head. She readjusted the scarf to cover her face, though some tufts of hair poked through it like straws.

  A kind of heat emanated from the lake on either side, and she scented that odd, warm water aroma wafting through the window, along with the faintest tang of salt. They stopped again at the main palace entrance. The whole palace itself had a somewhat uniform shape, except that the towers had domes instead of parapets. And attached from where Kiara saw on her right—three distinctive bubble shapes merged into the palace, holding what appeared to be a tiny ecosystem in itself, glowing and surreal because of the many colors used, and the way the glass distorted it.

  Nope. Not going to be impressed by any of this. Not the way some of the boats were designed, clearly to show off rather than to be of any practical use when it came to sailing or fishing. The palace sentries all appeared to prefer red and blue colors over the browns and black of the Fjordans—and heavier armor, as well. Kiara sort of assumed heavy armor plus swampland would be a bad combination. Well, it was said that the Kanthians had been fighting back the night hordes ever since the sun went out.

  Come to think of it, they had rather unusual weapons, too. The sentinels opted for flails with glowing tips, rather than the traditional sword and shield of the royal guards. Were they a more practical weapon in this area, or just something that caught popularity?

  Kiara now clutched at her necklace, allowing some of the light to wisp around her pale hands. The types of lightweaving she knew was pathetic in comparison to these miracles people created. Or these Kanthians, with their odd yellow eyes.

  Someone rapped on the wooden carriage door. It was a stone-faced sentry with yellow eyes, jaw tight as if he never planned to unhinge it to utter even a single word to her.

  Yay, she thought sourly. She stepped out, flat-soled boots falling onto a smooth, tiled path where the cracks glowed.

  The sentry in his blue clothes and red painted armor pointed roughly at the entrance. Follow him. Okay, then. She did so, and other strangers fell into stride behind, their flails clacking softly.

  If no one was going to even talk to her before her wedding, either it needed to happen right now, or she'd go insane from boredom. Because dark take them if they thought she was remaining silent and placid about the whole matter. In a foul mood, she sought out the original ambassador, the gray-haired man with the yellow eyes, and fell back to him.

  “Seriously. Is no one going to talk to me at all? Because this is going to irritate the life out of me.”

  Without looking at her, the ambassador said, “Perhaps someone should tell the princess that once she has settled in her quarters and has visited the Domes of Delight, she will find eligible people there to talk to. Certainly not with poor commoners such as ourselves, with our unblessed tongues.”

  Kiara blinked. “Is that your way of addressing me but not really addressing me?”

  “The princess should be informed that she is indeed correct in her observation, may these unblessed words reach her ears.”

  Oh good God, Kiara thought.

  “If the princess should be annoyed by this, please remind her that it is punishable to lose our tongues if we are found talking directly to her.” The ambassador stopped talking, and Kiara swallowed hard.

  Right. That might be a more reasonable explanation as to why people didn't dare breach whatever custom they held. But to threaten the removal of a tongue for speaking to a bride-to-be? Seemed like a
rather extreme case of possession. Well. At least she hadn't seen anyone in the streets trying to eat one another yet, so the Kanthians probably didn't practise cannibalism.

  Hopefully.

  Perhaps they were more discreet about it.

  Now accepted through the main entrance of the palace, Kiara was quickly bundled into what would be her new quarters, located in the lower left wing of the palace, which sparkled with riches beyond anything Kiara had ever seen before. Crystal chandeliers dangled from the ceilings, woven with complex lightweavings that allowed the colors to diffuse into others, changing the tones of the main hallways constantly. She saw parts of what appeared to be a poem engraved upon the marble walls, though didn't get much of an opportunity to guess whether she knew it or not before they dumped her in her quarters.

  Servants, clearly informed ahead of time, jumped to duty when she entered. They wore black and white robes, and plain white necklaces like Kiara's, and instantly waved in frantic silence, pointing towards a room in her quarters that had steam emitting from it. Instantly, Kiara stiffened. Aside from the fact that there were rather artful decorations in this room, such as paintings of the glowing lakes hanging upon the walls, or luminous leather sofas and golden striped walls that provided most of the color strength she saw by—the steam definitely grabbed her attention.

  She didn't need to be asked to take a decent bath after two weeks of rigid traveling and hard grounds. Though when she went into the bathroom, her jaw dropped.

  Okay, she'd promised herself not to be impressed, but the sight of that square-shaped, steam-laden pool managed to render her speechless. One of the servants was kneeling by the pool, and red threads of heat came out of her fingers, suffusing the pool with the tantalizing warmth that beckoned. Sure, people could use hot stones to warm up a pool, pre-heated water, or the natural chambers of a hot spring. But if you had a skilled lightweaver, then why bother? Lightweavings were cheaper than the alternatives.

  And at least thirty percent of the population in Fjorn had the talent to lightweave. Probably the same ratios here. A smaller percent reached the stronger magic, but it wasn't exactly a rare ability.

  Kiara grinned, stripping off shamelessly, glad to see that the servants weren't shy about this fact either. They took her clothes, and she almost skipped to the pool, easing herself into the warm waters with a sigh. “Amazing,” she said.

  The woman who had performed the lightweaving gave her a small smile. Pretty woman, Kiara thought. Short, red hair, a wide, friendly mouth. Pea-green eyes. Some of the women had yellow eyes, but this one appeared to be normal. Her green eyes locked with Kiara's brown, before the woman beckoned to Kiara's necklace.

  Kiara smiled and held up her fingers, allowing the magic to dance around her fingertips. Yellow orbs sparkled around her like fireflies. “This one isn't done by me. I'm not very good with any of my lightweavings yet,” Kiara admitted. “Always got too bored sitting in on the lessons.”

  The woman pursed her lips.

  “Perhaps,” Kiara said, “if you address one of the other women with what you might be interested in saying to me, I might eventually hear it.”

  A small grin. She nodded. “Jenet,” the red woman said, calling to one of the dark-haired servants, “don't you think learning lightweaving is quite simple? So simple, that even I could teach it to someone who might be willing to learn?”

  “I don't know, Winifred. Maybe. I don't have the ability myself, so I wouldn't know.”

  “Oh, that's okay. Perhaps we should wait until our bride has been initiated in the Dome of Delights before such lessons can begin.” Winifred smiled at Jenet, who was rather shy in returning it.

  Clumsy way to get around the whole personally addressing Kiara issue, but if it worked...

  Well, maybe she should let this Winifred try to teach her. Not like it could be any worse than what the tutors did back home. And she didn't want to be the laughing stock of where she went. Especially since she'd been so rudely ripped out of her world and forced into a new one.

  Thinking of the old world... “I wonder if Winifred knows where I can get a kitten. Before I left, I was going to have a beautiful kitten from the castle cellars. If she happens to know of any recent litters, I would be most interested in seeing the kittens for myself, and keeping one.”

  Winifred blinked, slightly confused, before nodding. Kiara allowed herself to lie blissfully in the waters, naked, letting her hair flow beneath her like the water it touched. She should try giving the servants some really awkward requests, just to see how they handled it. People always expected princesses to be difficult, right?

  She remained quiet, since she knew she'd get irritated having to constantly get her information in an underhanded manner, and instead allowed her eyes to rove, taking in the details of the bathroom. Soaking in warmth, and letting the servants now wash her hair and sponge her down, Kiara considered how intimidating she found Kanthus so far.

  Not as bad as the rumors had it. Not as bad as Bethany thought. She had stared after Kiara with that heavy melancholy which suggested that the journey to Kanthus might be Kiara's last. Her mother and father seemed to believe they sold off one of their daughters into a cruel, brutal life, where she'd probably be sacrificed on her wedding day or something.

  Still possible, but surely if the Kanthians sacrificed all their women at a wedding, then there wouldn't be any women around. At all. Kiara almost tried asking if Winifred or anyone did happen to practise ritualistic killings or something, but refrained at the last moment.

  The thing that intrigued her most, however, were the yellow eyes. Humans just didn't have that. They had black, brown, blue, green, sometimes shades between, and sometimes going right down to that rare gray. But yellow? Unheard of.

  Something odd was happening in Kanthus. Not just with the way people treated her, but in general with how some of the population possessed yellow eyes, and some did not.

  The servants rubbed a soothing oil over her skin, which carried the scent of roses. At the bottom of the pool lay a kind of mural that showed the image of two spheres side by side—the sun and the moon. Emphasis was put on the moon, which Kiara knew to be smaller than depictions of the sun, yet appeared almost twice as large in her pool.

  Well, whatever happened, she was about to find out more of the Kanthian culture. To see what all the fuss was about, and just why no one was allowed to talk to her before this Dome of Delights business.

  Smelling clean, feeling refreshed, Kiara let the servants wrap her up in new clothes—gaudy yellow, with a white frill around her bust to emphasize the cup size. This came along with a white petticoat to balloon out the dress, so that when she twirled, it created a mesmerizing effect. They also gave a special kind of frame for her necklace, so that the lights became distorted, like ghost tails around her body, instead of the speckled firefly effect she automatically conjured. She preferred the speckles, but decided not to make them panic when she directly addressed them to say otherwise, and allowed them to wedge on yellow gloves, white leggings, and high, pale brown boots.

  She didn't like the small heels such boots offered, but she couldn't have everything.

  Well... she'd lost everything, coming here. Plunged into an alien world where people didn't talk to her, it already left her melting into a frenzied boredom. The kind that made her want to do stupid, impulsive things. Like dance on a rooftop or something, or interfere with some of the light displays so that instead they showed hands making obscene gestures.

  Best not to embarrass her kingdom in this new place, she realized glumly. One issue with sending her here—somehow, she became the sole representative of Fjorn. And what a poor representative she made. Why didn't Father just send Bethany? She was pristine and princess-like. She knew how to behave diplomatically. Kiara dodged all of those lessons.

  Now, these Kanthians had dressed her up in more finery than even the royals of Fjorn managed. Fjordans preferred utilitarian clothes, relying on the lights to show their might. The
Kanthians loved their clothes. The more extravagant, the better. And they adored their lightweavings, bending their magic in ways that were wasteful, rather than useful. They even managed to thread the darker swamps with sickly greens to give an uneasy vibe for anyone trekking through.

  These people have a flair for the dramatic, it seems. Interesting choice for a nation that apparently beat back the night hordes on a regular basis. She would have expected them to be militaristic, focusing on life on the front lines, not putting any stock in their colors or the beauty of the world around them.

  She found herself missing the Forest of Light as she followed Winifred towards the so-called Dome of Delights. The servant, however, needed to stop about one corridor before, and gesture for Kiara to go on. So again, Kiara went on alone, witnessing two fully armored guards standing at the entrance to the Dome of Delights, which consisted of a thick glass set of double doors. The material shimmered, again showing the strong lightweavings, and the guards revealed not even one millimeter of skin. There also seemed to be no slot upon their armets, which made Kiara a little suspicious as to how they were supposed to be able to see.

  They let her pass without incident. Entering the domes at last, she feasted upon that ecosystem promised from her glimpse of it from the outside. Glowing palm fronds, tapered bark and teak. Moist soil and special regulators in the soil that kept it a fluorescent, mellow warmth, allowing such plants to thrive. Most plants were roped off, and visitors and guests were restricted to white gravel paths, which twisted and curved towards a large kind of court or ballroom, where individuals talked or danced with one another, or performed upon an elevated stage.

  Flute and violin music traveled through the air, along with the gentle plucking of a harpsichord. One thing she noticed instantly about the men she saw was that they wore masks. Wolf masks. Furnished in brass, steel, or iron, painted over with a myriad of colors, some of them enchanted so that their eye sockets glowed yellow, red, or orange. These “wolves” stalked the women there, most of them clearly from high society, probably the “Highborn” they referred to. Many of the people here had yellow eyes.