by Emily L K
“I promise that I, and the generations that come after me, will preserve the legacy of the Karaliene. We will harbour her if she needs protection, fight for her if she cannot fight for herself and pave the way should she choose to sit upon the throne of the realm once more.”
Saasha nodded approvingly. She might not be long for this world but she had made sure her wayward sister would be looked after. Bel locked up the chest and stowed it away under the bed before returning to her knitting. Saasha’s eyes were just drooping towards sleep when she heard shouting from outside. Bel stood up from her seat and rushed to the door.
“What is going on!” She hissed, “Ma is sleeping!”
“She’s here!” A child’s voice said excitedly. “She’s here!”
“Who’s here?” Bel asked in confusion but Saasha knew who she was.
“Where is she? Bring her immediately!” Saasha demanded, sitting up against the pillows. A coughing fit wracked her body.
“I’m here,” a quiet voice said. Saasha’s eyes snapped up. For a moment she thought she was seeing a ghost; Cori was standing in the doorway not looking a day older than when she’d left. The sunlight cast a shadow over her face until she stepped into the room. Her golden eyes blazed.
For a brief moment Saasha’s chest surged with intense jealousy at her sister’s immortal youth. But the feeling was fleeting. Cori looked wearied, she decided, and incredibly sad. She patted the bed beside her.
“Leave us,” Saasha said to Bel. Her daughter, who’d been staring open-mouthed at her aunt, nodded and quickly departed. Cori rounded the bed and sat on the other side of it.
“Come here,” Saasha held out her hands to her. Cori sank back against the pillows, curling up against Saasha’s side as she had when they were children.
“Oh Saasha,” Cori said sadly. Her voice waved with unshed tears. “I’m so sorry I didn’t come back. I’ve missed your whole life.”
“Don’t feel sorry for me,” Saasha said tartly, even as she smoothed Cori’s golden hair back with one of her withered old hands. “I’ve had a good life with my husband and children. I even have grandbabies now and they have been my delight. Don’t misunderstand,” she added in a gentler tone, “I have missed you terribly. But I don’t want you to feel guilt over leaving. You did what you needed to do.”
“Dahl?” Cori asked after a long moment. She was hesitant, as if she didn’t want to ask but needed to know.
“Died some years ago on the farm,” Saasha informed her frankly. “But he found his happiness with someone else.”
“That’s good,” Cori murmured. Saasha didn’t have the heart to tell her that although Dahl had married and had children, he’d never really stopped pining after Cori.
“Have you heard from him?” Saasha asked of the Karalis. She didn’t need to say his name, her sister would know of whom she spoke. Cori fell utterly still. For a long time she said nothing. Saasha waited though, she wanted to know the state of her sister’s mind.
“No,” Cori said finally and her voice was anguished. “It’s been fifty years. I think he’s.... I don’t think he’s coming back.”
Saasha patted Cori’s hair. She had guessed as much, but she didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t expected Cori to still be so torn over the man.
“I’m tired, Saash,” Cori whispered.
“You and me both,” Saasha said ruefully. Cori sat up and looked at her. Looked at her sunken eyes and grey hair, the wrinkles that marked years equal in laughter and hardship.
“Sorry,” she said. “I should have been more tactful.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Saasha smiled. “You may still look like a spring chicken but your mind is as old and weary as mine.”
Cori looked towards the window, staring through it to the fields that Saasha’s husband had once ploughed, and now her son-in-laws managed. “What will I do, Saasha? I envy that you get to leave the earth soon.”
Saasha let out a barking laugh, one that set off another coughing fit.
“And to think I was envious of your eternal youth,” she said when her breath returned. “It seems we’re both damned, sister mine. Now, for what you’ll do; you need to find other Dijem. You cannot waste your days with humans, we will all leave eventually. You need your own kind now, Cori. You need to find some happiness for yourself.”
Cori nodded and bowed her head but Saasha knew she wouldn’t listen. She wouldn’t push the matter, however.
“Whatever you do,” she explained, “know that if you need a safe place, my daughters and their daughters will always welcome you here. All you need to do is remind them of our mother’s name. All your affairs are in order, should you ever wish to take your place as Karaliene again.”
“My affairs are in order,” Cori echoed, as if she’d never even considered the idea of having such undertakings. Then her expression turned bitter, as she registered the latter part of Saasha’s statement. “Why would I go back to that? I’ll never be Karaliene again.”
Saasha put a hand on Cori’s arm, calming her. “I know you say that now, but forever is a long time - or I can only imagine it is - and if this realm needs you, then I don’t think you’d turn your back on it.”
Cori glowered. Saasha let the matter rest. Her time was almost up and she didn’t want to spend it fighting with her sister.
“Bel,” she called out. A moment later her daughter appeared in the doorway. “Please get us some coffee.” Bel smiled and went to the kitchen.
“Do you remember when we used to sit in the kitchens at the palace and drink coffee at Mama’s workbench?” Cori said quietly, almost apologetic for her previous outburst.
“Yes, of course. We always had something important to discuss.”
“Like when you couldn’t decide if you wanted that handsome stable lad to ask you for a drink after work?”
Saasha wrinkled up her nose at the memory, “I couldn’t decide if his good looks outweighed the perpetual horse smell. What about that boy you were seeing? Quart was it?”
“Oh my, Quart,” Cori laughed. “Wasn’t I an idiot to go there!”
“No, no. He was the idiot. Lucky he had money because he barely had a brain!”
They both burst into a fit of giggles.
“What about when you came back and told me you’d been made Page?” Saasha added, “I almost thought coffee wouldn’t cut it that time.”
Cori sobered a little, but still smiled.
“The turning point,” she said. “Imagine if I’d said no. We’d be two old biddies working in the kitchen at the palace still.”
“Oh, I don’t think the Karalis would have taken no for an answer.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” Cori lapsed into momentary silence, then she suddenly grinned and Saasha was glad to see some of the weight lift from her shoulders as she forgot her hardships. “Remember, after the ball when you came and yelled at him? I don’t think he’d had anyone yell at him like that before in his life!”
“When I realised what I’d done, I thought I’d be dead within minutes!”
They gossiped away the afternoon over coffee, but when night began to fall, Saasha put her hand to Cori’s cheek.
“It’s time for you to go, my beautiful sister.”
“Go where?” Cori looked confused. “Saash, I’ll stay with you.”
Saasha shook her head. “No, I have my daughters and grand-daughters here and soon I’ll be with my husband. I don’t want you to watch me die. It’s time for you to go and live your life.”
Cori looked anguished but still she stood. “I don’t want you to leave me, Saash,” she whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks.
“I’ll never truly leave you.” Saasha smiled. “Now off you go, I’m tired.”
Cori leaned over her, kissing her lightly on the lips then on the forehead. Her breath trembled but when she pulled back her eyes were clear.
“Safe travels,” Cori said.
“And you,” replied Saasha.
Wi
th a final wave from the doorway, Cori was gone.
Saasha leaned back into her pillows and sighed. She let her weary eyes close, but she smiled as she went to sleep. Cori would be all right.
Chapter Five - The Captain
One hundred and fifty two years post war | Captain Quindyn
Hooves shuffled fretfully in the undergrowth and armour chinked with the movement of the soldiers keeping their mounts reined in. No matter how well trained they were, the horses knew something bad was coming.
Quindyn stroked the neck of his own mount, soothing her. This mare had been good and faithful to him and he loathed to take her into battle.
“Captain,” Hendyn steered his horse in alongside Quindyn’s. “Resso’s camp is about four clicked north of here. We estimate one hundred and fifty of them. Resting state. No mounts.”
Quindyn nodded his thanks and held up his hand to signal his two hundred mounted cavalry forward. They moved quickly along the treeline of the forest. Two hundred mounted against one fifty unaware foot soldiers would be an easy slaughter, but something about the details made Quindyn uneasy. As they rode, he waved Hendyn back to his side.
“The Karaliene?” He asked.
“We didn’t see her, and we watched for over three hours,” Hendyn informed. “And it was reported she’s still south trying to stop Gredyn and Correliyn from crossing into Hale.”
Quindyn nodded, but the unease didn’t fade. He put it down to battle nerves. He sent Hendyn along the front line with orders to form up. They’d take Resso from all flanks.
They crested a slight rise and among a copse of trees to their right was the Resso camp. Quindyn prayed to the universe that the Captain was right about this one then he drew his sword and roared.
His men mimicked him and the voice of Hearth rose into the night, a furious, fearsome cry for blood. He kicked his mare, and she surged forward beneath him. Thundering hooves stretched across the plain and Resso’s camp rose, drawing their swords and falling into formation. Quindyn grinned. This would be easy.
A scream sounded to his left, and he turned his head in time to see the detached legs of a horse soaring through the air. Seconds later more horses and men were airborne, blasting away as if an explosion had happened beneath them. Quindyn’s unease bloomed to pure panic. She was here.
He pointed with his sword and his cavalry wheeled about. As afraid as he was, he knew the Karaliene had to be the first to die. The Captain drummed that into all his soldiers. She was their target. Hearth would never be free until her torment of them was put to an end.
More men on the left flank blasted away and as the contingent circled, Quindyn could hear their screams and cries as their died. The left flank was in a state of turmoil and confusion, but Quindyn couldn’t see the Karaliene anywhere.
“FIND HER!” He roared to anyone who passed. “KILL HER!”
Kill me? A voice said in his head and he knew it was her, though it sounded like his own. You’ll have to catch me first.
And something tugged at him, forcing his head to whip around. Just in time to see Resso hit their right flank.
More screaming from behind and Quindyn yanked his mare in a circle. Another explosion of men and horses, flesh and blood. And although it was dark, he could see a red mist in the air.
For an endless moment he was paralysed as the carnage washed over him in brutal waves. He’d been in battles; you weren’t given the title of captain without winning a few... but nothing like this.
A mass hit him from the left and he instinctively caught it, careening off his mare to hit the hard earth as he did. He groaned, turning the sticky object over in his hands. Hendyn’s head.
Bile rose in Quindyn’s throat, but so did anger. He shoved the head of his friend aside and scrabbled for his dropped sword. His mare was long gone, fleeing the fight when he’d fallen. He hoped she’d make it out okay.
He inhaled sharply, taking in the stench of bowels and sweat, straightened his shoulders and began bellowing orders.
“Fenex, take anyone still mounted and surround those Resso soldiers! Westyn, do the same at our rear! Keep sharp eyes for the Karaliene and try to catch her out! Out number her... she’s only dangerous in the direction her hands are pointing! Trey, you and your men with me!”
And as he thrust his sword into the air and roared his defiance, he pushed down his fear and despair. If they could defeat the Karaliene here they’d be hailed as heroes back in Tengah.
The copse of trees that Resso had been camped beneath were now alight, casting an unearthly orange glow across the fight. Quindyn ran across the battlefield towards the Resso soldiers. He looked left and right, searching for explosions of bodies that heralded the Karaliene’s position, but he saw none and within moments he reached the fighting.
Without missing a step, he dragged a breath of crisp night air into his lungs and swung his sword with all his might, connecting with the side of a Resso soldier and caving in their armour. The soldier cried out and buckled. Quindyn quickly took off their head before moving to the next.
This, he thought as he charged through the Resso soldiers, bringing many of them down. This is why I was made captain.
As many soldiers as he and his men downed though, the Resso soldiers didn’t retreat. In fact, they seemed to grow in numbers. He found a space in the battle to lift his visor and wipe his brow. In the distance, beneath the burning trees he spotted more soldiers charging towards the battle and he groaned. Curse Henlyn and the other scouts for not ranging far enough to look for reserve contingents.
In his observation of the fresh soldiers arriving, Quindyn didn’t see the mountain of a man who approached from behind. Didn’t see the flat of the axe that smacked him across the back of the head and knock him out cold.
When he woke the sky above was smokey and pink. The back of his head throbbed tremendously, and he felt as though someone had been trampling on his body.
The sound of battle was replaced with low voices and occasional laughter. Quindyn flexed his fingers and feet, relieved he still could still use them, but he didn’t move from where he lay, instead staring up at the lightening sky and feeling utterly desolate.
“I got the captain,” a man’s voice said from very close and Quindyn’s heart fluttered. “You owe me a gold coin.”
Two figures loomed over Quindyn and it took them a moment to fall into focus. The man was huge. Broad shouldered and dark featured. Furious splashes of blood marred his skin and clothes and his axe poked threateningly over his shoulder where it was holstered. In contrast, his brown eyes seemed warm and friendly.
The woman was the opposite. Slight and young, her hair was coiled up in a knot atop her head. Blood covered her more evenly, as if she’d walked through a shower of it. Her gold eyes looked down on Quindyn with plain disinterest. As disconcerting as they were, he couldn’t look away.
“He’s not dead, Orin,” the Karaliene said dryly, and she set her boot on Quindyn’s chest. He grunted, feeling a pressure on his ribs that a girl her size shouldn’t be capable of. He tried in vain to push her foot away but she remained steadfast.
Who gives your orders? He heard the words in his own voice, but he’d knew from others who’d experienced the same sensation that it was the Karaliene infiltrating the mind. There was no known way to resist her.
“The Captain!” He blurted, puffing hard against the weight she had on him. One of her eyebrows rose.
“A captain with a captain? That seems like a redundant hierarchy. Surely you report directly to your Head of State?”
Tell me, an impossible increase in pressure accompanied the mental order. Quindyn cried out as he felt a rib snap. The Karaliene didn’t seem to exert any energy at all to pin him. Pain aside, the compulsion to answer her was still there.
“I - ahhhhhh - I do report to the Head of State! But he didn’t give the - the orders! The Captain gives the orders!”
The Karaliene and Orin glanced at each other.
“Someone givin
g orders who isn’t a known authority,” the Karaliene mused. “And I bet he’s not a fighting captain if he keeps sending these dunces after us.” She returned her gaze to Quindyn, and he scrunched his eyes closed, sure this would be the moment she ended him, but she spoke again. “I think I’ll have to go to Tengah to flush him out.”
Momentary relief flooded through Quindyn and his eyes snapped open again in time to see Orin grimace.
“You are not going to Tengah.”
The Karaliene lifted her foot from Quindyn’s chest and he exhaled a ragged sob, rolling to his side in the dirt. Beyond the boots of the Karaliene and Orin, he could see the corpses of his fallen comrades and the Resso soldiers picking through the bodies, pulling away their own injured and dispatching any living Hearthians. The forest, only hours ago their cover, was now a smouldering graveyard of charred tree trunks.
“Are you going to kill him, or shall I?” Quindyn looked up through watering eyes to see Orin reaching for his axe. He whimpered, pulling his knees to his chest.
“Let him go,” The Karaliene said. Orin looked as surprised as Quindyn felt.
“Let him go? After you’ve just said you’re going to Tengah?”
The Karaliene met Quindyn’s eye and bared her teeth in a feral grin. He recoiled back into the dirt, heart hammering against broken ribs.
“He can tell his captain I’m coming. Tell them to reinforce the gates too, I’m looking forward to blowing them up.”
And then the pair of them were walking away, chatting idly as if their exchange with Quindyn never happened.
Quindyn sat up slowly, wincing at the pain in his chest. His head reeled, but the dizziness passed and he could stand. He caught his breath and looked around wildly. The nearby Resso soldiers watched curiously but none moved to stop him as he turned southwest and hobbled from the battlefield. Only once he stopped to look back when he reached the treeline. The Karaliene was watching him.
When Quindyn finally reached Tengah a week and a half later, he went straight to the Captain’s office in the downtown district. Guards at the door stopped him.