Arrival

by Charlotte McConaghy

  “Well, I don’t know. Will you help me?”

  “Of course, I will,” Anna replied. “We have to get to work right away. What exactly did you hear her say?”

  “She spoke of how she was going to kill Accolon today in the tournament and make it look like an accident.”

  “Elixia, Accolon trusts you,” Anna said. “He listens to you. We must tell him.”

  “He will never believe us over his own mother!” Elixia exclaimed. “We must find proof.”

  “There will be no proof! Columba is too clever for that. We have to tell Accolon and make him believe us no matter what.”

  Elixia agreed reluctantly, and they turned their horses and set off for the castle.

  But they did not get far before Anna pulled up her horse suddenly. Something had caught her eye. Something shiny in the grass. Anna dismounted and bent over the object.

  In the grass lay a white claw, almost as big as her hand. It was bone, and the end was sharpened to a deadly point.

  Anna felt a chill prickle her skin as she looked at it. She struggled to pull a deep breath into her lungs.

  Anna held it in her hand for a moment then quickly slid it into the pocket of her trews so that it was not touching her skin, and climbed back onto her horse.

  “What was that?” Elixia called to her.

  “Nothing, the horse just had a stone in her shoe.” Anna answered, not knowing why she was lying.

  They arrived back at the city a short time later. Anna and Elixia rode through the streets decorated with carnival colours and filled with crowds gathering already, waiting for the action to start. Columba was waiting for them at the castle, but as soon as she opened her mouth, Elixia held up a hand and walked straight past her without saying a word. Columba watched them leave, her mouth agape with fury.

  “We need to talk to you, Accolon,” Anna said as they entered the king’s chamber. He was being fitted into his armour, which clanked and creaked over his chest, and motioned for his servants to leave the room.

  “What is the problem, that you should come into my chamber while I am being dressed?” His tone was light.

  “Sorry, there’s something important going on.”

  “Yes?”

  Anna gestured to Elixia. “There is a traitor who is planning to kill you today during the tournament.”

  Accolon’s expression didn’t change. “Who do you think it is?” he asked.

  Elixia hesitated. “Your mother.”

  He stared at the floor for a long time.

  “I heard her speaking to someone in her chamber, she spoke of killing you, hiring an assassin named Blaise. Her loyalty is to someone else. She did not actually say Leostrial’s name, but I can only assume that was whom she was speaking of.” Elixia paused for a moment, and then said, “I also heard her speak of how she had stopped Satine from burning at the stake, only to send her back to her death. I’m sorry.”

  Accolon’s eyes burned.

  “Accolon! You cannot continue with the tournament!” Elixia exclaimed.

  “I must.”

  Anna spoke. “Accolon, I think I know who Columba was speaking to.”

  Accolon motioned for her to go on.

  “This morning, I was talking with Vezzet and he told me that Tomasso is a traitor. He’d read a letter Tomasso had written to Leostrial, outlining the plan to have you killed during the tournament.”

  “He has been privy to every conversation in the entire castle. He knows everything! If he’s a traitor then we are done for.” Accolon exclaimed.

  “Have Rome sent to my room,” he said with a stony expression. They left him and sent a servant to find Rome. He hurried up to Accolon’s room and Elixia and Anna were left alone in the entrance hall.

  “What are we going to do?” Elixia asked.

  “I think we must leave it to Accolon. He’ll do what he has to,” Anna replied. Just then a man ran into the entrance hall and bowed in front of Elixia.

  “Rise. What is it?” she asked.

  “My lady. A letter has come from Lapis Matyr, and the ship has arrived back from Guanu.”

  Elixia’s eyes lit up and she raced outside calling over her shoulder, “Take the note to the king. Come on, Anna!”

  ***

  Their horses raced along the cobbled streets and down to the pier. The ship had only just docked, but Anna and Elixia didn’t have to wait long until the travellers were ashore.

  They were greeted with great happiness. Jane hugged Anna.

  “Anna, thank God! Are you all right?”

  “Of course I’m all right! Why wouldn’t I be? You were the ones off on a deadly expedition!”

  Elixia watched Fern being carried off the ship by Blaise and Luca.

  “What has happened?” Elixia asked frantically, kissing her brother on the cheek.

  “I’m fine,” he replied. “I just got a bit of a bruising from some Phaeries.”

  “Goodness, look at you!” Elixia chided. “Come inside quickly, I’ll have Samshon see to you.” They climbed into litters and were carried up the hill to the castle. Jane carried the book in her hands.

  “What’s going on here?” Jane asked as she looked out at the busy streets full of excited people.

  “Today is the tournament.”

  “But we’re about to go to war!” she exclaimed.

  “Don’t ask,” Anna said.

  ***

  They entered the castle and sat down in the dining hall around the table. A bed was brought in for Fern, as he was ordered by Samshon to remain lying down. Accolon entered in his armour and sat down at the head of the table.

  “Where is the book?” Accolon asked.

  “Warm welcome,” Fern muttered under his breath.

  Jane placed it on the table and they all leaned in to get a better look.

  “Good. There has been a change of plans. I just received a note from Satine. We have seven days before we must set sail. I have sent word of our plans to each of the other countries. Now. Let us look at the book.”

  “You can’t open it. There’s a seal locking it shut,” Jane said.

  “It cannot be opened by anyone other than a necromancer,” Elixia said quietly.

  “What’s a necromancer?” Anna asked.

  “A person who walks in the land of the dead, and can bring people back from it,” Fern said. “There are none left in Paragor.”

  “They were all killed some thousand years ago, because they were evil,” Accolon said with a sigh.

  There was a long silence.

  “You’re wrong, actually,” Elixia said quietly, and all eyes turned to her. “Not all necromancers died. There is one left.”

  “Who is it?” Harry asked loudly, his voice breaking slightly in excitement. Elixia shut her eyes and rubbed them with her fingers for a moment. When she looked up again, her face was dark. “I am the last necromancer.”

  Chapter 31

  Though it had only taken a few days, it seemed like the journey back to Amalia had gone on forever. “So what now?” Luca asked, sitting down on the window seat in Jane’s room before she’d even had a chance to wake properly.

  “What do you mean ‘what now’?” she asked grumpily, rubbing her eyes.

  “Well, you seem deliriously happy that Fern is alive, which we all are, and should be. I just wonder, Jane, what happens the next time something happens to make him disappear from your life? Like the fact that he’s promised to marry someone else. Does that bother you at all?”

  “What?” She stared at him.

  “Why can’t you see what’s really going on?” Luca pressed. His voice was rough and there were dark hollows under his eyes. “You know it can’t work. You’re from different worlds, on top of everything else.”

  “Why are you saying this?”

  “That time on the beach ... I never, ever want to see you broken like that. It’s not like you, Jane. You’ve always been so strong. And yet I held you in my arms and listened to you cry. Forgive me for wan
ting to get you the hell away from something that can crush you like that.”

  Jane didn’t know how to respond. “He was dead,” she whispered finally. “That’s the worst thing that would ever happen.”

  “So you think now, Jane. You have to admit, the man has a lifestyle and an attitude that will keep you on the edge—”

  “How dare you.” Jane couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You have no idea what I’ve been going through! Why don’t you just mind your own business?”

  Luca nodded and stood up. “Okay. I’m sorry. I won’t bring it up again. But I’ll be here for you, whatever happens.”

  She looked at her hands where they lay in her lap. Without looking up, she murmured, “And I’ll do the same for you.”

  ***

  Jane sat quietly and listened to the commotion around her. Everyone was arguing and trying to speak over one another. Some were upset to discover that Elixia was a necromancer, but Jane was glad, and didn’t understand why it should be any other way. She waited for a moment then stood up. Everyone fell silent and looked at her.

  “We don’t have time for this,” she said. “I don’t know why you are all so upset. It’s pretty clear Elixia isn’t evil.” Jane gestured to the queen. “She might be what saves us. We have to open the book. Elixia, help us understand what’s actually going on here.”

  “It was my mother,” Elixia replied softly.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Fern asked.

  “I’m sorry, Fern, but I don’t think now is the time for that,” Elixia replied softly.

  Jane slid the book along the table to Elixia. “Maybe you should just open the book.”

  Elixia looked at it for a long moment. It was very large, and extremely heavy, bound in black leather, its pages yellow and tattered at the edges. She looked back up at them.

  “You’ll have to be quiet for a minute so I can concentrate.”

  The silence around the table deepened.

  Elixia fell still for a moment, and then her head slumped onto her chest and her eyes rolled back in their sockets. Suddenly she lifted her head again and stared sightlessly ahead. She raised a hand and placed it on the book, her eyes showing only white. Then, very slowly, her lips moving silently, she opened the book. She sat there a moment longer, rigidly still, and then her eyes shut and her body relaxed. When she finally opened her eyes she looked normal once more.

  “Thank the gods,” Fern sighed.

  “The book’s open,” she said, her voice calm.

  “Are you all right?” Fern asked.

  “I’m going to read from the book and call the gods. It will take me a few hours. Leave me and go to the tournament.”

  It took some persuading to get Fern to leave his sister, but eventually he did, and they all made their way to the stadium. Still exhausted from the journey, none of them had elected to enter the tournament. They took seats in the shade of the royal pavillion and sat back to watch.

  The tournament was an entertaining diversion. As she watched the endless series of mock battles and fights, Jane couldn’t help thinking about how life on Paragor was based completely around war. The final battle, though, was something entirely different.

  It was custom for the winner of the previous year’s tournament to fight a band of men who had been sentenced to death. It was a chance for them to fight for their lives. Accolon had won the games for the past four years, and he was determined to follow the custom.

  There were six prisoners—armed with wooden swords and shields and running barefoot on the hot sand. The king was allowed his horse and any weapon of his choice. Accolon had chosen a long straight sword. He wore his laurel wreath crown; Jane thought he looked exactly like a Roman king from her world might.

  If he could, the king would kill all six competitors. According to common banter, he would. He was one of the best fighters in Paragor, it was said.

  Jane sat up in her seat when she realised what was going on.

  “Are you serious?” she asked Fern, who was seated awkwardly next to her, his wounds still causing discomfort. “He’s just going to kill them?”

  “The prisoners have already been sentenced to death,” he said. “At least now they have a fighting chance.”

  She shook her head. “This is horrifying. Everyone just watches this for sport?”

  Fern reached out a laid a hand gently on her shoulder. In a heavy voice he murmured, “It’s a harsh world. The people are used to violence.”

  Jane closed her eyes. “I can’t watch.”

  Just the idea was bad enough, but as soon as the fight started, they all knew that something was about to go terribly wrong.

  ***

  Terret was shivering with fear and a sick kind of anticipation. The gates were about to open for him to run out onto the hot red sands of the stadium. He was decked out in the tattered rags they had given him for the stocks. It was, in fact, a rather pathetic way to die—to be caught for sneaking into a nobleman’s house and trying to steal his riches. He was too young for execution, or even to compete, but he was being offered a deal. Fight—involve himself in the spectacle because there was no one else—and the king would spare him his life. He would be the first competitor not to die in many years.

  He was just fourteen. His mother had wept when they told her that he had been chosen to play against the king himself. He could remember the taste of her salty tears and the feel of them on his cheek as she hugged him, one last time.

  He could not figure out why this particular memory was locked in his mind at that very point. It was quite a silly thing to think about—not something a warrior would dwell on in the face of battle.

  No, he was not a real competitor. He was just there to make up numbers. But there was no reason he could not try to fight.

  Standing next to him was an older man who looked as though he was hard and ready for battle. An ugly scar ran from one side of his face to the other. Terret leant over to him and asked, “Do they go away? The nerves, I mean.”

  The man looked down at him with scorn. “You won’t be here long enough for them to go away.” Then he moved a step away and looked at Terret as though he were a bug in need of squashing.

  Just then the gates swung open and the small dark room was bathed in blinding light.

  The six prisoners ran out into the stadium and looked around at the screaming crowd. Terret had never seen anything like it, and fear engulfed him.

  The crowd were watching, waiting for him to do something. It was all about Terret for that short moment.

  And then the king came out and it was no longer about Terret at all.

  The six prisoners bowed and waited for his wave of approval.

  The final game started and Terret narrowed his eyes in concentration. Holding his sword in front of him, he stood on the outside of the fight for a moment, watching each fighter in turn to see how he moved. You had to understand your allies as well as your enemies. Someone had told him that once.

  The man he had spoken to in the holding room was doing the same as Terret, circling the play and watching eagerly. The four other men were competent enough, but they weren’t fighting as a team. One of them was obviously a weak fighter and was already in danger of being killed.

  The weak man had his back turned to the king and was bending to pick up his fallen sword. Accolon saw him and turned his horse. The man turned around too late, and his life would have been forfeit had Terret not shoved him out of the way and parried the sword blow with his own measly chunk of wood. The king’s sword sliced straight through Terret’s own, and the top half of it flung away into the air. The young boy froze for a moment as he realised what had happened, and then he threw the other half of it up at Accolon’s head. The king moved his head slightly and watched as the sword flew straight past him.

  The other man was looking at him gratefully, so Terret called out, “Fall back!”

  The men looked at him in surprise until he yelled, “We have a better chance if we work tog
ether. Fall back!”

  But they didn’t listen, not yet. Terret had to swing his shield hard at the king and dodge a return blow before they realised that he could fight. He was a tanner’s son, forced to steal in order to eat. He had practised with his friends, had dreamed he might compete in the tournament, had been told he was quick, but this was ... so much more.

  The king pulled his horse to a halt and watched as Terret gave out his orders.

  “Form a tight circle, face your shields outwards. Don’t split up. He will charge at us, but if we move together and use our shields he will have a much harder time getting us down.” He had no more time though, because Accolon had begun his charge.

  One of the men obviously thought that Terret was a fool, for he had run from the circle and was facing the king alone. His head was severed with one blow, and Accolon didn’t even falter in his charge. Terret tried to swallow the bile that had risen in his throat.

  Terret looked up at the last minute directly into the king’s eyes, right before he rode into their circle. Terret had thought his plan a good one, but was proven wrong in seconds. The king laid two men flat on the ground. How had he thought he could beat this man?

  There were now only three of them left and they were scattered around the stadium. Scar man and another short stocky man both looked at him with disappointment. Accolon was in the middle rearing his horse and looking at each of them in turn. He then charged off in the direction of the short man.

  It was then that Terret noticed something very wrong. A glint of steel reflected by the sun. The king was the only one allowed steel, and he was at the other side of the ring. Terret looked at the scar man standing opposite him. He could see the tiny piece of metal still glinting in his hand.

  Scar man started running towards the king, so Terret broke into a sprint himself. He saw the man lunge, and all Terret could think to do was to stop that knife. So he dived forward, taking the blade in his shoulder.

  The two thieves lay sprawled on the ground together. The king turned from knocking the other man flat to look at the mess of blood. He took the situation in at a glance and slid his sword into scar man’s heart.