The Rebel Queen

by Jenny McKane

  Eskil squared his shoulders and took a deep breath.

  “I am at your disposal,” he said quickly. “If you want to come with me, we shall gather the men and ride there, right now.”

  A smile spread over Disella’s face.

  “That’s the spirit, Eskil,” she said, her dark eyes glittering.

  She followed the man out the door.

  Everything was going to plan, exactly as they had intended.

  ***

  The residents of the tiny village of Krokr looked up in surprise. Riders were thundering through the streets, straight to the town center. They looked angry. What was happening? And why was their queen leading the group?

  Eskil rode just behind her, ruminating on how quickly it had all happened.

  In the end, a group of twenty people volunteered to ride over to Krokr and deal with the culprits. They had all been outraged when the queen had spoken of what had happened to her and her men, and the queen had been an eloquent speaker. She had riled them up quite swiftly, and he believed they would have ridden to the ends of the realm for her.

  “For shame!” the people had yelled, when the queen cried, begging them to help her.

  But Eskil could tell that they were having trouble believing it, just like he’d had trouble believing it. Why would a group of their own people turn against their queen, just when they were making such progress against the Jarle? But the queen didn’t give them room for doubt. She was visibly upset and wanted action.

  They stopped thinking and did as they were asked.

  And now, they were almost to the village square. Eskil gulped. How would this proceed?

  “What is going on?” cried a man, approaching the group. He was frowning.

  Eskil recognized him as Bergh, the village mayor. He had met him a few times, at inter-village festivals and conferences.

  Disella wasn’t smiling, as she stared at the man.

  “It’s him!” she said, turning to the riders behind her. “He led the men!”

  The man called Bergh looked bewildered. “What are you talking about, my queen?”

  But two men had already dismounted and grabbed him. He resisted, pushing against them.

  Disella turned to the crowd that had gathered. She almost felt like she was chanting a counting rhyme for a game of tag. Who would she choose?

  “That one,” she cried, pointing to a man. “And there!” She pointed to another and then another. It wasn’t until she had reached ten that she decided to stop.

  The chosen men were pushed into a circle. They all looked confused and horrified.

  “What are you doing?” cried a young woman, rushing forward. “Let my Tegnor go!”

  “Stand back,” called Disella, her horse’s feet stomping wildly. “These men are killers! They ambushed me and my men! I was lucky to escape with my life!”

  The crowd gasped, staring at her.

  “It’s a lie!” cried Bergh, the mayor. “I don’t know what she is talking about! I certainly haven’t done any of those things!”

  The other encircled men protested their innocence loudly, too.

  “Why would they do that?” called out the young woman, who was still trying to push through to the encircled men. She turned and stared at Disella. “You are making no sense! When do you claim that this happened?”

  Disella welled up. “It was this morning,” she gasped, holding her chest. “It pains me to speak of it! They ambushed us as we were riding through the woodlands, and they killed my companions. I would have been killed, too, except I rode so fast that they could not catch me.”

  The crowd gasped again, looking at each other in horror.

  “Well, whoever attacked you, it wasn’t Tegnor!” cried the young woman. “He was with me all morning.”

  Disella frowned. The woman was staring to annoy her.

  “She lies,” Disella said, staring at the woman closely. Then she reeled back. “She was a part of the group, as well! She had a hood on, but I saw a strand of her golden hair fall out! Grab her!”

  The young woman was pushed into the circle.

  “Round them up!” yelled Disella.

  The men extracted rope, and then they bound the people in the circle, who were all still yelling their innocence. The crowd was confused; some were yelling to let the people go, others were baying for their blood, for their insult against the queen.

  The condemned people of Krokr were pulled along by the ropes with the crowd following.

  “Are you taking them to Ashtomb?” yelled a person from the crowd. Ashtomb was the local prison, located some miles from the village.

  No one replied. But when the group were pulled towards the woods, the crowd became even more agitated.

  “What’s going on?” they cried, pushing against the men leading the condemned group.

  Still, no one answered. Eskil could see that the men of Sandfell leading the condemned were starting to lose their courage. This was a big thing that their queen was asking them to do. It was unheard of for criminals to be simply executed without trial, and it didn’t sit well with any of them.

  But she was their queen, and she had asked them to do it.

  They reached the woods, and the crowd became suddenly subdued. What was happening? Why had their queen ordered these men to be brought here?

  “Do it,” cried Disella.

  The men of Sandfell swung ropes around the tress, securing them. The crowd gasped. Were they making nooses? They turned to each other, all talking at once.

  “No!” yelled someone. “You can’t do this! It hasn’t even been proven that this happened, or that these men were responsible if it did!”

  “Let them go!” yelled someone else.

  “I demand vengeance!” cried Disella. “I am your queen! These men killed my men and would have killed me, too!” She turned to the men holding the ropes. “Do it, I tell you!”

  The men of Sandfell grabbed the condemned group and strung them up. The crowd was going wild, pushing against the men. Women fell on their knees, holding crying children against their chests. They were sobbing.

  Disella allowed herself a small smile. It was chaos.

  The condemned were pushed and fell forward with a sickening lurch. The crowd cried out, and then they broke free. The people of Krokr attacked the unwitting executioners from their neighboring village, kicking and punching.

  But it was too late. The condemned were all dead, swinging from the trees.

  Eskil felt like he was in a nightmare. All around him, people were crying, and yelling, and fighting each other. He could barely look at the dead people, without wanting to be sick. How could his queen have authorized this?

  He watched her now, staring at the dead face of the young woman who had challenged her with the golden hair. Eskil could barely believe it, as he watched the queen ride up to the body and smile right into the young woman’s unseeing face.

  He shuddered, feeling himself go cold all over.

  She was ruthless. Completely and utterly without feeling.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mother Asta walked wearily towards the fjord, carrying her waterproof basket. It was late afternoon and the shadows were lengthening as they fell across the ground. Soon, it would be dusk.

  She stood on the water’s edge, bending down, and scooped the icy cold water into the basket. Once it was full, she hauled it onto her head, balancing it perfectly. She turned and started walking back towards the camp.

  As always, when she came here in the afternoon, she would quickly scan the horizon. They should be returning soon, surely? But every afternoon was the same. She could see no riders in the distance. They would not be returning for another day.

  Mother Asta tried to quell the unease that she felt. It was perfectly normal for the mission to take longer than expected. She knew that things could go wrong, or time could be miscalculated. There had been a wild thunderstorm, one day, which would have surely delayed them. Any number of things.

  And yet,
she still couldn’t shake this feeling that something was wrong. Very wrong.

  She walked into the camp, glancing around her. People were preparing for the evening meal. Men were stoking the camp fires higher, and women were peeling and chopping vegetables. She saw Minna, sitting by herself, her back against a rock. The young woman’s green eyes were pensive, as they stared into the distance. Mother Asta knew that Minna was starting to get worried, too.

  “Mother Asta.” It was Escolen, walking towards her.

  “Escolen.” The Mother inclined her head.

  “May I speak with you?” said the man, glancing around. “Privately?”

  Mother Asta frowned but complied, indicating that they should go into the large tent, where council meetings were held.

  Inside, all was silent. The chairs were still placed where they normally were; Avalon’s chair at the head of the circle. Mother Asta stared at it, and again a feeling of disquiet overwhelmed her.

  She turned and faced Escolen. “Well? What is it that you wished to speak with me about?”

  “I took a group of horses into a village today,” said Escolen, taking Mother Asta by the arm and leading her towards the chairs. She sat down, staring up at him. “I needed to get their hooves re-shod.”

  “And?”

  He sat down beside her. “There are rumors spreading throughout the countryside, Mother.” He took a deep breath, shaking his head. “I don’t know what to make of them; they are so strange.”

  Mother Asta frowned. “What do these rumors say?”

  Escolen glanced around again, as if to make sure that they were alone. “They say that the queen has gone mad,” he whispered, his face pale. “She ordered the immediate executions of a group of villagers, who she claimed attacked her and killed Skyresh and the others.”

  Mother Asta paled, leaning forward. “No! It is impossible!”

  “That is what they are saying,” whispered Escolen, running a hand over his face. “The townspeople of the village of Krokr are outraged. They claim she came riding into town, with a posse of men from the nearest village, and dragged a group of villagers to the nearest woods and strung them up from the trees.”

  Mother Asta gasped. “Avalon would never do that,” she whispered. “Even if it is true what you say! She would never form a lynch mob and hang villagers without a trial!”

  Escolen shook his head slowly. “I know, Mother. It makes no sense. It is completely out of character for Avalon to do such a thing.”

  “Why would a group of villagers attack them anyway?” continued the Mother, her frown deepening. “All of them are well loved. The people are united in their desire to be rid of the Jarle and for liberation. Why would a splinter group suddenly form, trying to undermine our efforts?”

  Again, Escolen shook his head. “It is as much of a mystery to me as it is to you, Mother,” he said slowly. “But I fear that we must investigate this. The rumors say that she has headed towards the mountains. I think I should take a group of people and try to find her.”

  Mother Asta nodded. “Yes, do that,” she replied. She shook her head slowly. “I can’t make head nor tail of any of it. If any of it is true, why would Avalon head into the mountains rather than come straight here? Surely, she would want to inform us as soon as possible of the death of the others and the judgment that she made?”

  Mother Asta sank back in her chair. She could feel her heart thumping uncomfortably in her chest, and the feeling of unease that she had been trying to quell all day rose up. She had known that something was wrong. How many times had she told other people to trust their instincts? And yet, she was still not trusting her own.

  “I will gather a few people,” said Escolen now. “But I would prefer if we didn’t make a big deal of it. Perhaps we could tell them that we are doing something else? I would prefer the rumors not to spread amongst our warriors…yet.”

  Mother Asta nodded. “Very wise, Escolen,” she said. “We should try to contain it, as much as possible, until we find out the truth of the situation. It could undermine our forces, causing them to doubt their queen, and we do not want that.” She stared at the man. “It might just be unfounded rumors, Escolen. There may be no truth to any of it.”

  Escolen nodded, but he didn’t look convinced. “I hope so, Mother, but in my experience, there is always a kernel of truth to rumor. And why has this sprung up so suddenly, when there has never been a whisper of impropriety or wrong doing about Avalon?” He shook his head, frowning. “I just can’t figure it out, but I intend to.”

  Mother Asta nodded again. “I will go to the temple,” she said, standing up. “You get together your people to find her, and I will meditate on this. The Goddess may give me an answer, and we sorely need one.”

  ***

  Avalon slowly walked up the stairs of the house. The room where she had been sleeping would be as good as any to try to clear her mind and speak to her animals.

  She saw Skyresh, as she was passing by another room. She hesitated, looking through the doorway. He was on his knees, tapping against a wall. What he was searching for was beyond her, but it seemed to give him focus.

  “Skyresh.”

  He turned, staring at her. “Yes?”

  “What are you doing?”

  He stood up and approached her. His mouth was set in a grim line. “What does it look like I am doing? I am trying to find a way out of this place.”

  Avalon sighed, studying his face. He looked exhausted, and his blue eyes were clouded with worry.

  “You will not find a way,” she said evenly. “Not like this. There is no normal way to get out of this house. Surely you realize that by now?”

  He cursed, shaking his head vigorously. “I can’t believe that,” he said through gritted teeth. “I won’t accept it! There must be some weak spot that this sorceress hasn’t secured…”

  “Skyresh,” she said gently. “There is no point. You are wearing yourself out by doing this.”

  “Well, what would you have me do?” he cried suddenly. “Sit around, staring out the windows, like your precious Everard does? Or try to read pointless books, like you?”

  She reeled back. “Skyresh, I am only trying to help! I thought that perhaps I might find a book that could aid us…and besides, if I am reading, it stops me from worrying.”

  He shook his head again. “You are wasting time, Avalon,” he said slowly. “You should be trying to invoke the Goddess to reverse the spell that we are under.”

  “I have tried!” She stared at him, imploring him. “So many times! Nothing has worked!”

  “Then keep trying!” He stared back at her. “I will not die here! You are not going to die here! We must find a way.” He swallowed, looking down at the ground. “Brunn and Niko are dead, Avalon. They died needlessly because you wouldn’t listen to me and not to come into this house.”

  She paled. “Skyresh, that is unfair. We all knew the risks when we came here. Searching the house was what we came here to do…”

  He stared at her so intensely that she felt as if his blue eyes were pinning her to the wall. “You came into this house because of him,” he spat. “Because he was calling you and crying. Even though you swore that you were strong, and not susceptible to him anymore.”

  Avalon’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I was compelled. I couldn’t stop myself.”

  Skyresh kept staring at her. “I was right,” he whispered. “I knew that he would be your downfall. I told you not to let him go, and now here we all are, stuck in a prison together—for all of eternity by the look of it.”

  Avalon squared her shoulders. “I will find a way out,” she said with determination. “I am going to try to communicate with Hansa and Sidsel now. Send them a message to run back to the camp and alert the others.”

  Skyresh sighed. “Even if you succeed and the others come, it doesn’t change anything, Avalon. If you cannot reverse the spell, what hope do they have?”

  Avalon frowned. �
�Mother Asta will know a way,” she said. “She must. And if we work together, our power is so much stronger.”

  He shook his head, gazing around him. “I suppose you could try. I cannot think of anything else.” He sat down on the floor. “Who is this new sorceress? Has Everard given you any information about her?”

  “Only that she claims to be Agnor’s daughter,” Avalon replied. “And that she comes from another realm. He only just met her…but there is something else, Skyresh.” She took a deep breath. “Apparently, she looks just like me. I think that she has changed her form so that she can impersonate me.”

  “Impersonate you?” He stared at her, uncomprehending for a moment.

  “Yes,” she said. “Pretend that she is me…to sabotage us. I shudder to think of what she is doing out there. She could undermine all of the hard work that we have done, Skyresh.”

  He paled. “This is bad news,” he whispered. “Yes, you must try to get the animals back to camp so that the others know where we are. If the sorceress is pretending to be you, she may fool them, as well, and then they will never know what has really happened to us.”

  Avalon nodded. “The Goddess revealed her to me,” she said slowly. “I didn’t understand then. I thought that perhaps the Goddess was telling me that I needed to defeat a dark side of myself.” She took another deep breath. “If we can get out of here and defeat her, Skyresh, we should be able to finally breach the High Wall and advance on the South. I think that her power is what sustains the force above the Wall.”

  His eyes widened. “Then we have no time to lose! Avalon, try to call the animals but keep trying to invoke the Goddess, as well. Do anything and everything.”

  She nodded then reached out her hand, touching his arm. “Are we friends again?”

  He gazed down at her hand and breathed out slowly. “Of course we are friends, Avalon,” he whispered. “When was there ever a time when we weren’t? When I wouldn’t do anything for you?”

  She swallowed painfully. “You haven’t been my friend over the past few years, Skyresh.”