by G. P McKenna
A lift would be nice. The distillery was situated by the river mouth at the opposite side of the maze and if I walked it would be well past dark by the time I returned. I looked at Ilya to gauge his response, but he gave none as he focused on tightening Byzantine’s girth. I glared at his back and shook my head, “that’s alright.”
Pogue frowned, “but it’s all uphill.”
“I like walking. Means I can eat more.”
“But it’s gonna-”
“She said no, Shield,” Ilya said as he climbed into Byzantines saddle, “if she prefers to walk, let her walk.”
There was the real Ilya. Pogue was only trying to be kind and he had to cut him down. With a final glare, I turned to Pogue with a smile, “actually, I’d love a lift.”
“See, Ilya, Kilco would love a lift,” Pogue said with a smug hum as he swung up into his saddle. Ilya merely shrugged as Pogue held out his hand to me, “if it pleases, my lady.”
“Why thank you, brave knight.” I allowed Pogue to pull me up behind him. I’d been riding since the good doc had relented and allowed me lessons at age five. I knew it was wrong to wrap my arms tightly around Pogue’s waist, but did so anyway and pushed my cheek against his muscular back. I grinned at Ilya as we trotted through the infirmary gate. He didn’t even blink and I huffed, releasing my grip and resting my hands on the saddle instead, “tell me, why does the big Shield have the smaller horse?”
“Dunno,” Pogue said as he patted Makybes neck, “luck of the draw, I guess.”
“Fair enough. It’s certainly not a bad thing. After all,” I smirked across at Ilya, “you know what they say about boy’s with big horses, right?”
“I’m afraid I don’t,” Ilya replied as he calmly loosened his reins, “where would I learn such things? I never waste my time in establishments, like the Pantless Priest, where such drunken nonsense is spewed.”
My smirk fell into a scowl and I ground my teeth. He was such a snob. “Well, maybe you should. You might learn a thing or two. People who spend time in places like that are experts in certain areas you’re not. Like having a laugh. They can also sniff out a snake the moment the door opens. Never underestimate them.”
“Kilco,” Ilya said in a condescending tone, “it’s impossible to underestimate you.”
My teeth clenched so tightly that I feared they might crack, but nothing could force them apart. How dare he say that I was impossible to underestimate when I couldn’t estimate myself. I swung my outside leg around to face Byzantine.
“Whoa. What are you doing?”
Tightening my core muscles, I fell forward. My upper chest landed on Byzantine’s croup and I grabbed hold of Ilya’s waist to pull myself up. I wasn’t sure what my plan was, but everything seemed to be working in my favour. Until Byzantine spooked. Had Ilya been holding the reins like a normal person he might’ve saved us from falling into the mud below, but he’d given Byzantine his head, so down we went into a jumble of limbs and pained groans.
It was impossible to tell where my body ended and Ilya’s began. The mud squelched and suctioned in uncomfortable places, and somehow my hand became entangled in the numerous folds of his uniform. Some force was required to free it and I pulled until something came loose. Ilya cried out. My hand finally free, I wiped away the mud that had blinded me to find him sitting with stiff posture. I looked him over, half expecting to find a pool of blood, but there was nothing that explained his wide-eyed, gaping expression. It took a moment to remember that I shouldn’t have been able to see much of his mouth at all. His breathing close to hyperventilation, Ilya looked like a man who’d been caught with much more than just his face on display. With a shaky hand, he replaced the mask and I cringed. “Shit, sorry. I-” was barely able to close my eyes before being pelted with a fistful of wet gravel.
“Don’t you ever do anything like that to me again. Ever,” Ilya said, his voice breaking.
“It was an accident,” I exclaimed.
He pushed back his mud stained hair and climbed to his feet. He looked down at me with narrowed red eyes before pulling up the hood, “that wasn’t an accident.” he stated, and without offering his hand turned in the direction where Pogue had gone after Byzantine. I pushed myself up and took a step into the shadow of a giant redwood. It had been an accident, but even if it wasn’t, what was the big deal?
We rode in silence. Even the camp seemed to go quiet as we passed. Mothers huddled their children inside tents and merchants paused their bantering to look up. Once we arrived at the Command stables I didn’t even wait for Makybe to come to a full halt before sliding from her back, “thanks for the ride,” I said with a wave as Pogue looked over his shoulder, “hope you are happy together.”
“Wait Kilco.”
I adjusted the satchel over my shoulder. The fall had shattered some of the vials and Kira would hear about it. Goodie. There would be no escaping her talking at. A hand grasped my arm and I looked up. It was only Pogue, “let go,” I growled and tried to shake him off, “I need to get to the distillery. Doctor Kira doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
“I know,” Pogue released my arm to thread his fingers through his bangs with a dopey smile, “it was meant to be a surprise, but I sorta promised Amicia I’d bring you too,” he looked over to where Ilya was untacking, “I get you two are fighting, but you’re not mad at me are you?”
“Not yet,” I said dryly.
Pogue grinned brightly, “See. Please come. Amicia is even scarier than Doctor Kira when she doesn’t get her own way.”
As Pogue spoke, I watched while Ilya removed his saddle. His head was half-turned in our direction and as Pogue finished speaking Ilya’s shoulder had given a slight twitch. I pursed my lips, “five minutes. That’s all.”
“Five minutes,” Pogue exclaimed and grasped my head, “let’s go then.”
The Royal guard moved not a muscle as Pogue dragged me into the command tent. He appeared to know exactly where to go, taking lefts and swinging rights as he chatted on about anything and nothing until we came to a sudden stop outside a heavy oak door. Pogue turned to me with a sheepish smile, “there’s just one teensy thing I forgot to mention,” he said. I crossed my arms and he groaned, “it’s just that Amicia sorta wants to see Ilya first. Debrief and all that. You understand.”
“No. You promised-”
“I know,” he held up his hands, “I know. We’ll be two minutes, that’s it,” he gently pushed me onto a wooden bench, “please wait. Pretty please.” I wanted to protest, wanted to storm out of there and not look back, but his eyes were so blue, and that bench was unbelievably comfy. It had this overstuffed emerald pillow that seemed to mould itself to my butt until all I could do was sink down and nod. Pogue smiled and held up two fingers before disappearing past the door without knocking.
Two minutes my ass. It took three just for Ilya to drag himself inside. He stopped and looked down at me, “what?” I spat. Ilya shook his head and turned to the door, knocking twice before stepping inside and leaving me all alone.
Another two minutes passed. Then another five. It was so inconsiderate. I could’ve finished what had to be done at the distillery and been back already. At that rate it would be midnight before I arrived at the infirmary. Kira was going to box my eardrums for sure.
At some point my restless knee-shaking turned into aimless pacing. None of the guards or servants stopped me. Perhaps they’d seen me with their beloved Shield enough, or maybe they just didn’t believe such a muddy little girl could be a serious threat. Either way, their disinterest enabled old habits to raise their ugly head, and before long I was tugging on every door handle I passed. Most were locked, but the few that opened hid opulent bedrooms and offices. I pocketed a souvenir from each, something small that wouldn’t be dearly missed.
Sneaking past the plump chef’s in the kitchen, I came to a section of the tent where the air felt stale. No paintings covering the canvas, no heavy furniture or plush rugs dotting the floors. Most doorways wer
e hidden by the same linen flaps we had in the infirmary, and when I poked my head inside I found only dank, cramped spaces with bedrolls littering each corner. Several were still occupied by snoring lumps. The rooms behind the few real doors weren’t much more exciting: rickety desks and cot stuffed in spaces no larger than broom closets. I took nothing from these rooms and very soon stopped checking at all.
Turning down a hall, I was greeted by what sounded to be a drowning llama. A green cocoon was snoring in the shadows of the hall. I walked over to it and sighed. It wasn’t a giant moth that had smuggled its way in from the woods outside, it was just a magical geezer entangled in his cloak. Typical. If I required further proof that any lazy twat could become a court mage if only they had deep enough pockets, it was sleeping before me. He certainly didn’t get there on skill and wit, if the way he gurgled his tonsils was any indication.
Still, he was there for a reason. I nudged him with the toe of my boot. It had the desired effect. Stringy saliva dripped like bug goop as the mage rolled. I carefully stepped over him to peek inside the flap was ‘guarding’.
It took a moment to realize what I was looking at. It wasn’t another broom closet. It wasn’t some door into another dimension. It was a room coated in a shiny black stone. At its centre sat a staircase that spiralled down into the ground. Frowning, I glanced down the hall, then down at the mage drooling on my feet.
“Stay down.”
The spiral staircase stretched down far below the forest floor, further than any structure had any right. It had to be part of the Armoury; the air felt too there different not to be. Thin and unnatural, it coated my lungs in a greasy film. I descended, running my hands over the black lattice railing, which appeared to sparkle in the light of the torches lining the walls before coming to an abrupt stop at a sort of workshop.
Wooden benches sat in each corner, littered with a mix of chemistry equipment and what looked like torture tools. I wasn’t alone. In the centre of the room, circled by a ring of clear quartz columns, a man calmly stood smiling. “Well hello,” he said in a bright Bethallan accent, so similar to mine, “I was becoming concerned that you weren’t going to show and I’d spend eternity in the Ivory cage with this little tiff of ours left unresolved.”
Who the blazers was he speaking to? I glanced over my shoulder, expecting to find somebody sneaking up behind me, but we were alone. I looked back at the man and squinted. It was hard to say if I knew him, he was so…unremarkable. Like averageness personified, he wasn’t tall or short, fat or thin, young or old. There was nothing distinguishing about him. Nothing at all. Then our eyes met. Oh, those eyes. They were cold and lifeless like a corpse on ice. I couldn’t even recall their colour as I took a step backwards, trying to put distance between myself and that predatory gaze.
“Come now, is that how you greet an old man on his last night of freedom?” he chuckled joyously, “you know, this isn’t at all how I expected this meeting to go. In my dreams there were more fireworks, some severed limbs,” it didn’t surprise me he dreamed of severed limbs. He probably ate them for breakfast. The man chuckled again, “I’m pleased you found me here of all places. The onyx is certainly doing its job; I can hardly sense your energy. If you intend to fulfill your desire of carving out my kidneys, I’m afraid you’ll have to do it the old fashioned way,” he paused and tipped his head back, looking past my shoulder, “and you’ve made a friend. How darling. Have them wait outside, won’t you? We’ve waited too long for this. I’m sure they, of all beings, understand.”
I glanced back over my shoulder to where he was staring. Nobody. The man was bonkers. Mimicking the smile Doctor Kira reserved for patients short a marble or two, I cleared my throat, “I’m sorry, Sir. It appears you have mistaken me for someone else.”
The man blinked and looked me up and down, his mouth twisting violently before settling on a smirk, “so it would appear,” he purred, “my deepest apologies, Princess. Pray tell, who are you?”
“Kilco.”
“Kilco,” my name sounded disjointed coming from his mouth. He tutted his tongue, “you’re not supposed to be down here, are you?”
“No. Are you?”
He chuckled, “in an ideal world I would be home on the beaches of Bethel, drinking spiked prawn cocktails before a long nap in the sun. But this isn’t an ideal world, is it?”
“Nope,” I sat on the lowest step, “so what did you do to get locked down here? Nothing good, considering the mage guarding the door.”
“You snuck past a mage?”
“It’s easy when they sleep on the job.”
“Indeed,” the man looked me over once more, his momentary grimace fast hidden by a grin, “aren’t you impressive? Say, you wouldn’t be a dear and move one of these pillars, would you?”
“After all that talk of severed limbs? Not a chance,” I said and tapped my temple, “besides, you never did answer my question, Mr…?”
“Pierous,” he stated and stepped to the circle line, “and it was something big, something horrible, something I had no choice in doing. A big misunderstanding, you see, so if you’d just kick over one of these quartz-”
“Still no chance.”
“Clever girl,” Pierous muttered and stretched his back while looking at the blackened ceiling, “in any case you should run along now, little Kilco. It’s dangerous down here, and your friend is searching for you.” Crap. In all my exploring I’d forgotten that I was actually supposed to be somewhere. I stood so quickly that my knee cracked, unprepared for the sudden assault of taking two steps at once. “Oh Princess,” Pierous called, “do tell the Shield I said howdy, won’t you?” Yeah. Like that would happen.
It was easier to navigate back through the labyrinth of hall’s than it had been to orientate them. If it wasn’t for the rush of servants who followed closely behind their nobs like loyal puppies, I would’ve arrived back at the door in record time. As it was, I was forced to weave in and out of the bustling dinner crowd, who seemed to have no sense of self-preservation as they barged about like they owned the place. My shoulder slammed into one, my satchel spilling its contents over the floor.
“Sorry,” I muttered more on instinct than sorrow and stooped to gather the fallen vials.
“Nah, it’s my fault.” A familiar broad accent spoke. Pogue crouched beside me and held out my satchel, “where’d you disappear to? You were meant to wait outside Amicia’s office.”
“Where did I disappear?” I snatched the satchel out of his hand and stood. It was odd viewing Pogue from that height. Odd, but invigorating, “you promised five minutes. It’s been at least triple that.“
“Triple?”
“At least,” I reiterated.
Pogue cringed as he stood, “ah man. Sorry, we lost track of time. Amicia wasn’t too happy with Ilya’s report,” he toed the floor, “did Ilya tell what happened in the Umbra?”
“He told me some fable, yes,” I spun around, “but I’m not here to talk about Ilya, I’m here to see Princess Amicia. If she no longer wants to speak to me, I’m leaving.”
“No wait,” Pogue grabbed my hand and I smirked. He was so much easier than Ilya, “she does want to see you. Please come. I promise not to talk about Ilya no more.”
Easy as pie.
That office didn’t belong in a tent. It belonged in some opulent villa out in the countryside somewhere. The circular room had hardwood floors and panelled walls, covered in colourful tapestries that depicted scenes from Ascot’s very bloody history. It was an obscene luxury that only a Princess-in-exile could be indulged within a camp full of children who so often cried from the stab of hunger pangs.
Ilya looked up from his chair in the middle of the room as Pogue and I entered. The mask was around his neck, but the smile he gave was cut short by a grimace as his head was harshly pulled back against the headrest, Amicia seemingly content in her mission of inspecting each individual hair on his head. Or maybe she was trying to extract them, strand-by-strand. It was impossibl
e to tell with the way she casually ripped her bejewelled comb through the fine silkiness. Pogue cleared his throat and she glanced up, “one moment, I need to-” she gasped, “Deities calling, you’re filthy too. What is Doctor Kira doing to you down there?”
I looked down. My pinafore was still damp and stained brown, my knees weeping blood where the tights had ripped. I could only imagine the mess my face was in after the mud Ilya had chucked at it. If my nails were any indication, the damage was severe. I dug into them, “you see-”
“It was my fault, Your Highness.” Ilya arched his eyebrow as I frowned at him, only to straighten as Amicia stepped around the chair.
“Your fault?” She asked.
“Yes, Your Highness,” Ilya bowed his head, “the Shield gave Kilco a ride here, but I allowed Byzantine too much free rein. He spooked and we fell into the mud. I’m sorry.”
Amicia scoffed, “I warned you when you received him that Byzantine was too much for you to handle. You never listen,” she grabbed Ilya’s wrist and squeezed it tight, “you could’ve injured yourself. Worse, you could’ve injured one of my citizens. This absentmindedness is becoming problematic. First, you are banished to the Umbra, then you fail to secure an alliance with this Princess Delta, and now you’re having riding accidents? My Ilvarjo are not absentminded. I’m disappointed, Ilya.”
“I apologize,” Ilya said smoothly, “I did try. Honestly. It wasn’t absentmindedness that prevented Delta from assisting us. Her realm has issues of its own-”
“It doesn’t matter,” Amicia exclaimed. She tugged on Ilya’s bangs, forcing them awkwardly over his right eye, “you are my Ilvarjo. Your first loyalty is to me and to Ascot. That’s what the paths foretell, Ilya. Are you straying from your path? Ilana won’t be pleased when I tell her,” Ilya inhaled sharply and looked up, shaking his head. Amicia paused in her pulling of his hair and glanced at Pogue and I before smiling softly, “good boy. This changes nothing, I suppose. We won’t tell Ilana this time. You’re forgiven. Just promise to be more mindful in the future.”