Echoes

by Christine Grey

  “The king has no say over it, whatsoever. A kinship debt is strictly between the parties involved. Unless…unless you feel that I am unworthy in some way. It is up to you. You may, of course, reject me, if that is what you wish.”

  Darius couldn’t imagine anyone rejecting this dear, sweet lady. “No!” he said with as much force as he could manage.

  “No?” she asked, not sure she understood.

  “No, I do not reject you. I think you may have injured your own head, but if you are sure, then of course I will have you as sister.”

  “Good then, that is settled.” Marianne continued to stroke his forehead, mindful to avoid his injury.

  Darius? Darius, can you hear me?

  “Brin!”

  We’re almost there, Darius. Hang on, just hang on.

  “What is it, Darius?” the queen asked, concerned by the word that seemed to have nothing to do with what they had been discussing.

  “They’re coming, Marianne. They are almost to us.”

  The muted scraping of shovels reached them. There was a sudden rush of fresh air, and then a great deal of hollering, and then nothing at all as Darius lost consciousness once more.

  Chapter 29

  There was the sharp smell of antiseptic, mixed, oddly enough, with the gentle fragrance of flowers.

  “It’s too bright,” Darius croaked, and there was a rustling sound as someone hastened to close the drapery over the windows.

  “Someone get Dearra,” he heard a feminine voice say.

  “That sword of hers has probably already told her, but I’ll go make sure,” came a second voice, one that sounded older than the first.

  Darius felt like he was in danger of being swallowed up by the feather mattress upon which he lay. He had become used to sleeping on Dearra’s floor. Finding himself in the bed was disconcerting. He had no fewer than five goose down pillows propping him upright. His head was wrapped in soft bandages, and he had been covered in a thick quilt that had him sweating. He tried to kick free of it, but a stern voice halted him.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  “I’m hot,” he complained.

  “You’re naked,” the woman shot back.

  A quick assessment confirmed what she said to be true, and he rethought his plan to extricate himself from the stifling covers.

  Brace yourself, boy.

  Darius heard Brin’s voice, and in the next breath, Dearra flew through the door and launched herself onto the bed. How she managed to stop short of colliding with him, he couldn’t say.

  “Darius! Thank Cyrus you’re awake!” Dearra shouted enthusiastically.

  “Shh,” he said, wincing. He was delighted to see her, he only wished she would be a little quieter.

  “Sorry, sorry,” she said, her voice much softer than before. She cradled his face between her hands and kissed him lightly.

  “How long have I been ill?”

  “Would you like some water?” Dearra asked him. “You must be thirsty.”

  “How long?” he repeated.

  Dearra moved to adjust his pillows and made a show of straightening his bedding. “Not too long. It would have been forever if it weren’t for Aesri. When you and the queen were brought in, she went right to the greenhouse and started cutting off bits of this and that. Her healing skills would rival even my mother’s, if she were still alive. I have a bit of skill, but the things she was doing with roots and leaves left me in awe.”

  “Where is the queen? Is she safe?” Darius asked.

  “Yes, she’s fine. She should be along soon. She asked to be informed as soon as you woke up.”

  Almost in answer to Dearra’s pronouncement, a knock came from the doorway.

  Darius was shocked to see the queen limp forward, aided only by a single crutch on one side, and her husband’s arm on the other. Everyone in the room bowed as they entered. Darius tried to rise in their presence, but then remembered he wasn’t wearing anything, and settled for bowing his head. He pulled the blanket up higher to conceal his bare chest.

  “It wasn’t broken?” he asked.

  The queen’s face clouded over for a moment and then she smiled. “Don’t worry about that now. How are you feeling?”

  “Like I was kicked by a Breken stallion,” Darius said. He reached up a hand to probe the wound and felt his hair. There was a patch, several inches square, that had been shorn to expose the wound, but based on the current length of his hair, he could tell that it had already grown back quite a bit. His fingers traced the puckered edges of a scar that was still tender, but soft, as though it had healed over. He could feel no scab, just a scar that went from above one ear, and then across the side of his head, where it ended near his eyebrow.

  “How long?” he asked for the third time.

  Six weeks, Brin answered, when it was clear that no one else would.

  “Don’t let it bother you, Darius.” Dearra sat beside him and took the hand that was still tracing the mostly healed wound.

  “Six weeks,” he whispered.

  “Darius,” King Jaymes said, drawing the man’s attention. “I, uh, I…”

  “Go on, Jaymes,” Marianne encouraged him with a nudge.

  The king cleared his throat. “Thank you,” he blurted.

  “And?” Marianne prompted.

  “And I apologize for not trusting you. There! We’ve put that behind us.”

  “Yes, dear. Very good,” Marianne said with an exasperated sigh.

  “Thank you, Your Majesty, but I didn’t do much beyond getting hit on the head with a rock and passing out.”

  “That’s not true, Darius. You ran back into the tunnel to save me. You held the ceiling up with your own body. You kept me calm when I might have panicked and gone into shock. You were magnificent, and I won’t hear another word to the contrary.”

  “All right, Marianne,” Darius said, giving in to her almost immediately.

  The king’s face went red, and he looked like a kettle ready to boil. “Marianne? It is Queen Marianne, or Your Majesty!”

  “Jaymes, dear, we talked about this.”

  “Yes, but really, Marianne,” he sputtered.

  “Really, nothing. Darius is my brother; therefore, it is entirely appropriate that he should call me by my first name. Come now, dear. I think that’s enough stress for one day.”

  Dearra wasn’t sure if the queen was talking about Darius or King Jaymes. Based on the king’s angry scowl, she had a pretty good guess. Dearra bowed again as they took their leave.

  Dearra sat beside him and reached up a hand to run her fingers through the longish hair that hung in front of his eyes, and then she traced the scar from the corner of his eyebrow, past his temple, and then up above his ear.

  “Do you mind?” he asked, grasping her fingers in his.

  “Mind?”

  “The scar. Does it bother you?”

  “Not a bit,” she said, and she leaned forward, and pressed her lips to the spot to show she wasn’t the least bit put off by the mark. “I think it makes you look dangerous.”

  “I didn’t look dangerous before?”

  “Oh, I suppose, but, you know, maybe just a little tame around the edges.” Dearra grinned at him.

  “Carly shouldn’t have told you about that,” he said frowning. “Can’t I have any secrets?”

  “Between Carly, Brin, and Daniel, I would have thought you would have given up on that notion long ago. I have spies everywhere.”

  Darius rolled his eyes, but the motion brought on a wave of dizziness, and he had to shut them and remain very still. Darius was grateful for the cool cloth that Dearra had placed on his brow—it helped.

  “Take your time, Darius. You were out a very long time. You need time to get your strength back.”

  “Six weeks does seem like an overly long time, even with a head wound. Usually, if the person doesn’t wake up in a few days, they aren’t going to ever wake up.” He had seen enough battle injuries to know that much. As
a matter of fact, in Breken culture, if a warrior didn’t rouse within two days, all medical intervention would cease, as it didn’t make sense to waste resources on a lost cause. Once more, he found himself exceptionally grateful to no longer be in Breken society.

  “Yes, well, that was Aesri’s doing. You did start to wake up, but she said you needed to be kept still. She said that forcing you to stay asleep was the best thing for you. She kept you aware enough so that when we gave you things to eat or drink we could get you to swallow, but that was about all. There were times that she would give you a little more medicine than normal if you were especially restless. All we could do then was to wet your lips and try to keep you as comfortable as possible.”

  “Wonderful. It sounds as though you would have had an easier time caring for an infant.” Being helpless wasn’t something he cared much for.

  “Well, seeing as I would like to have the chance to find out if that’s true, you can stop being so grouchy and concentrate on getting better.”

  “I’m not being grouchy,” he complained.

  “Fine! Then would you please stop being so Breken?” Dearra stood up and smoothed out the wrinkles she had put into the comforter. “Are you hungry?”

  “I’m not sure. Why don’t you sit next to me again and we can find out?”

  “Um…no. I’ll go get you some broth and vegetables.

  “No meat? Honestly, I feel well enough for a little chicken or ham.”

  Dearra paused on her way out the door and looked back at him. “There is no meat.”

  “What do you mean? What happened to all of the livestock?”

  “There are still a few left, but none that we dare eat, at least not for a while.”

  “You’re not making any sense.”

  “I’ll let Brin tell you while I go get the broth.” Dearra kissed him again before turning to leave. He playfully swatted her bottom, and she had a hard time concealing her frown of concern. He never struck her to hurt her, but usually there was at least a little sting to his frisky pats, but that was not so this time. If she hadn’t seen him move his arm, she might not have known he had even done it. “I’ll hurry back,” she said, offering him a huge smile that she thought felt forced, but, if Darius noticed, he didn’t say anything about it.

  Chapter 30

  Where to begin? Brin said. There was so much happening at once. The group that had gone out of the city fought like warriors possessed. They continued to take down opponent after opponent, long past the time we expected that they would need to retreat back to the gates.

  The fairies were blocking the way with fire, but they had almost exhausted all of their strength. There were still a couple who had not been asked to use their magic, but they were being held in reserve, lest the Breken try to use those dreaded catapults again. If the walls come down…well, you already know what would happen.

  The king thought for sure they would return to the castle. They had to be exhausted, but they just kept going, and with such success, that no one wanted to put an end to it. The Etrafarians brought forth the water fairies, but the air was simply too dry for them to draw enough water to create a wall. The wind fairies tried next. They were not as effective as the fire fairies had been, and they couldn’t maintain it as long either, but it helped.

  The Breken were pretty foolish, actually. Once they realized they weren’t going to be able to circle around from behind, it didn’t make any sense for them to send soldier after soldier through that narrow gap to their death. I tried to hear what they were thinking, but it was all unclear whenever I would try to focus on a single voice, and I kept getting that same sense of ice and death I told you about before.

  Then I saw her, Jacob’s White Witch, or whatever she was. I saw her through the eyes of those battling in the pass, so the images of her came in flashes, moments in time snatched from a memory and then gone as they shifted, focusing once more on an oncoming attacker. She looked neither young nor old, but somewhere in between. She was clothed entirely in white. The only light I had was the firelight that illuminated the place of battle, so everything was all shadows and dancing flames, and it was hard to be certain of what I was actually seeing, versus what I simply thought I saw.

  There was something there. Magic has a feel, a smell, a taste, a touch, if you know what you’re looking for. Jacob might call her a witch, but I don’t think she actually is one. It didn’t feel like witchcraft or wizardry. It felt like something…older…deeper.

  Then, when Dearra made eye contact with her—

  “Dearra? What the hell, Brin!” Darius bolted upright, and then clapped a hand to his head as a searing pain shot through it.

  Calm yourself, boy. If you’re going to overreact, I’m not telling you anything more.

  “How am I overreacting?” His head was back on the pillows, and he kept his eyes closed, but his expression was just as dark.

  First of all, why should you be the only one that gets to run off and face danger? Secondly, she’s obviously fine, so you’re getting your pants in a twist over nothing. Are you going to calm yourself so I can finish, or do you want to take a nap?

  Darius growled, waved his hand briefly, and then let it drop back to the bed.

  Brin accepted the motion as an agreement to remain calm, and he continued on with the story. When Dearra made eye contact with her, the woman smiled. She actually smiled. There was no earthly reason we should be able to hear her speak from that distance, and yet, we did. ‘There you are,’ she said. And then she was gone. She turned, her cape swirled around her, and that was the last we saw of her.

  There weren’t enough of us left to keep fighting. The fairies provided cover the best they could, and we ran with all speed back to the gates. Even with our losses, the battle was a victory. We had killed many, many more of them than they had killed of us. Still, we had lost too many good people.

  We had barely made it back into the city when I heard you. You scared me half to death, boy. What were you thinking running back in like that?

  “There was no thought involved. I saw the queen in trouble and I just reacted.”

  It was very noble, but I would have liked to ring your neck. You could have just as easily ended up dead. I suppose I should follow my own advice. You did not end up dead, and all turned out well, so it does me little good to get upset about something that is done and over with, but still…I swear, you and Dearra are two of a kind.

  We managed to free you and the queen. Her leg was broken, but not crushed, and her other wounds appeared to be fairly minor. You were a different story. Your head wound was serious. Any head wound is serious, in general, but this—if it weren’t for Aesri, I don’t think you would be here.

  We got you back to the castle, and Aesri and Niada got to work almost immediately. Dearra, of course, wouldn’t leave your side. It couldn’t have been more than an hour later that we started hearing the first screams from outside. Dearra didn’t even look up. Everyone else was running to see what was happening, but her eyes never left you. I was fortunate that I could ‘see’ what was going on through their eyes. Well, fortunate might be a bad choice of word, but you get what I mean.

  Animals were dying, everywhere I looked. It seemed only domesticated animals that were typically used for food were affected. Cows, chickens, pigs, and the like. Horses were fine, which seemed odd to me, since I find horse meat to be quite delicious, but the Mirin Tor do not eat horses, so maybe that had something to do with it. The animals just fell down, kicked a bit, foamed at the mouth, and then died. That was it.

  The king ordered the animals butchered and preserved, but after the dogs, that plan was soon abandoned.

  “What about the dogs? Reo’s alright isn’t he?” Reo wasn’t a dog, strictly speaking, but dogs were close enough in species to their wolf cousins for Darius to be concerned for his friend.

  Reo is fine. Don’t you think we would have told you if he weren’t? The wolf was with you through your recovery, almost as much as Dearra.
He slept across your feet most nights. The healers of Mirin Tor were beside themselves when the animal jumped onto the bed with you, but when Dearra did nothing to save them from the wolf’s snarls and growls, they gave up and learned to work around him.

  No, what I was referring to was this, once the butchering was in full swing, it proved to be too much of a temptation for the normally well behaved dogs of the city. They snuck in and stole bits of meat whenever they could. It was quick, thank Tolah. They didn’t seem to suffer much. They just dropped, shuddered a couple of times, and then it was over.

  “Are you telling me the animals were poisoned?”

  Not poisoned in the traditional sense, but it was evident that the meat wasn’t safe to eat. For my part, I think it was the witch, or whatever she is. I am going to have to think of something to call her. I know she isn’t witch or wizard, and she certainly isn’t a fairy, or any of the other magical beings that I ever recall meeting, but she’s something, all right.

  The king had no choice but to burn the meat. It smelled wonderful for a while. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve tasted mutton? It doesn’t matter. I’m getting off topic. So there you are, then. There isn’t any meat. There were a few animals that didn’t die, but no one wanted to take a chance, and people are going to have to get an awful lot hungrier before they’re ready to eat cats and dogs, it’s just too far outside their social norms. They won’t be able to do it until they’re starving, foolish people. They don’t know how close they are to those days. We’ve been locked in our gilded cage for months, and for what?

  “I’m sure the king thought he was doing the right thing, Brin.”

  I know he did. I can hear him as well as I hear anyone. He has a good heart, but he’s so inflexible. The only person he is swayed by is Marianne. With anyone else, he digs in his kingly heels and won’t budge.

  The Breken are getting ready for a change, Darius. Their own men are growing a bit lean, and the women are complaining as well.