by Jenny McKane
He couldn’t believe it. For a moment, he stood there, simply looking at his hand where the dagger had been. Then he turned incredulous eyes onto Disella.
“What are you doing?” he screeched.
The dagger suddenly rose from the floor and landed in Disella’s hand. She turned toward her father. Her glittering grey eyes bored into him.
“What I should have done long ago,” she said softly. “For my mother.”
It happened so quickly that Avalon barely saw it. The dagger flew swiftly through the air and thrust firmly into Agnor’s chest. He looked incredulous, staring down at where it had lodged. Blood started to slowly stain around where the blade had punctured.
“You will pay for this,” he gasped, staggering forward. Then, he collapsed onto the ground.
Was he dead? Avalon flew to the prone figure on the ground, checking his pulse. Then she slowly turned to Disella.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes welling with tears. “Sister.”
Disella drew a deep, shuddering breath. “Is that redemption, sister? Am I forgiven?”
“Yes,” whispered Avalon, the tears falling down her face. “I meant what I said. You are on our side now. We will rule together, if that is what you want. Or you can take any other role that you desire.”
Disella laughed shortly. “I can almost see it, sister. A different, better version of me. What I might have been if he hadn’t corrupted me, long ago.” A soft sob caught in her throat. “Imagine, if we had grown up together in a different world. What fun we would have had!”
“It is still possible,” urged Avalon, staring at her. “I believe it. I was brought up as a Jarle, and it was hard for me to accept the truth. But I did. If I can do it, so can you, Disella.”
Disella shook her head slowly. “It was different, Avalon. You don’t know what he made us do…”
Avalon stood up, walking towards her. The woman was pale and sweating.
“Come with me,” she whispered, holding out her hand.
Disella looked down at it, and then she looked up, smiling. “Thank you, sister. It means a lot that you believed that it was possible.” She started to back away. “I have done it, you know. I have taken down the force around the city and your troops are advancing. You are victorious, Avalon.”
Avalon gazed at her, not knowing what to say.
“Make a better world,” Disella said softly. “A better realm.” She paused. “Goodbye, sister.”
Avalon stared at her. What was she about to do? Suddenly, she knew. She ran towards her, crying out.
“No!” she screamed.
But it was too late. Her dagger – the same one that had just killed Agnor – flew back across the room and landed sharply in Disella’s chest.
The woman gasped, staring at Avalon.
Avalon rushed to her, holding her in her arms as she sank slowly to the floor.
“I will never forget you,” she whispered, staring hard into her face. “I will never forget what you have done. You are redeemed, sweet sister.”
A half smile came onto Disella’s face. She gazed up at Avalon, her eyes wide. Then, they fluttered to a close.
She was gone.
Avalon wept, holding her in her arms. How was this possible? She had only just discovered that she was her sister, and now she was gone. They could have been Anasta warrior women, side by side. If only things had been different.
She stroked her face for a while, lost in contemplation.
The door opened. She looked up, in a daze.
It was Escolen.
He rushed to her. “Thank the Goddess! We thought that you were dead! Avalon, it was inexplicable. The force suddenly came down, and we could ride into the city. We have taken it! We have won!”
She smiled, slowly. “Yes, I know. She told me, just before she died.”
Escolen stared down at the dead woman. “It is the sorceress. Did you kill her?”
Avalon shook her head, slowly. “No. She sacrificed herself, after she killed Agnor. And after she made sure that we were victorious.” She sighed. “It is a long story, Escolen, and I cannot tell it now. Where are the others? Is Skyresh with you?”
Escolen paled. “You don’t remember?”
She frowned, staring up at him. “Remember what?”
Escolen shook his head, slowly. “They took him, Avalon. When he was with you, on the side of the road, pretending to be dead. We saw them drag him away into the woods. He is gone.”
“No!” she cried, standing up quickly. “It cannot be!” She shook her head, vigorously. “He will come back. He will have escaped, I know it…”
“Avalon,” said Escolen, gently. “We searched for him, but there was no trace. They probably took him to an isolated spot and killed him.”
Avalon sank down onto the floor, staring straight ahead. She saw nothing.
Outside, she could hear, as if from a distance, the shouts and cries of their army, marching into the city. They had won. But at what cost?
Chapter Twenty
A month later
Avalon walked slowly down the long, silent corridors of the Palace. The only sound was the rustling of her skirt against the floor. No, that wasn’t true. There was also the soft ticking of the tall grandfather clock, leaning against a wall. A reminder that time was still moving.
She opened the door, walking into the large, elaborate room. It had once been the ballroom, where Agnor and his ministers had held their glittering parties. It had been one of the first rooms he had taken her to when she had been touring it with him after her commendation ceremony.
She stared at the long wall in the room. Portraits of his ancestors had once lined this wall; all the men that he had claimed ruled Agnoria before him. All with the same name. There were only white patches there now. The paintings had all been taken down and destroyed. Added to the bonfires that had sprung up around the city. The people had thrown in all their dogeared copies of the Grey Book and anything else that was a reminder of the Jarle.
They had burned all the lies. A symbol of the dark past now. Gone. Reduced to ashes.
It still felt strange, being here. Living here. Every morning that she woke up in the large bedroom that she now called her own, she felt it. The ghosts of Agnor and Disella walked these corridors, she was sure of it. The people that she was now inexplicably linked to.
She gazed up at the blank wall, sighing. They would have to find new paintings for it, she supposed. Not that she was intending to throw any elaborate parties here.
She heard footsteps behind her and turned her head.
It was Mother Asta, walking slowly towards her. She smiled.
“Avalon,” said the Mother. “I have been trying to find you. What are you doing?”
Avalon sighed. “I don’t even know, Mother. I felt restless and have just been wandering the rooms.”
Mother Asta nodded. “I can sense your restlessness and your discomfort. You don’t like living here, do you?”
She shook her head slowly. “I can still feel their presence,” she whispered, staring at the blank wall. “Agnor built this Palace on the bones of the people. I know that everyone says that it is right and proper that I live here, but it will never feel like home to me.”
Mother Asta sighed. “I understand,” she said slowly. “It is like living in a comfortable bubble. You are used to being among your people, living alongside them. And yes, there is a painful history here, but it is what must happen—for the moment anyway. We are still working out how the newly restored realm of Masgata will be, and the people want their queen in a palace.”
“Yes,” said Avalon slowly. “I get it. But I might go on a journey, back into the Far North, if that is permitted. I need to see the mountains…”
Mother Asta gazed at her. She knew why Avalon desired to journey into the Far North, and it had little to do with seeing the mountains again.
“You won’t find him there, you know,” she said softly. “It has been over a month now, Avalon. We have search
ed high and low, but we have never found him.”
Avalon pressed her hand against the wall to steady herself. “I realize that,” she said shortly. “But I will never give up, Mother.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “He wouldn’t give up on me, you know, if the situation was reversed. He would be scouring the countryside.”
Mother Asta nodded. “I have tried the water bowl to search for him,” she said slowly. “It comes up cloudy every time. If he is alive, the Goddess will not reveal him to me, I am afraid.”
Avalon gazed at the old woman. “That doesn’t mean he is not alive,” she said, a stubborn set to her jaw. “We know that the ways of the Goddess are often mysterious. She reveals things when she is ready for her own reasons.”
“But why would he not emerge if he were alive?” pressed Mother Asta, frowning. “The realm is liberated. There is nothing to fear anymore. We have liberated all the Jarle camps, if he had been taken to one, and their dungeons. We haven’t found him, Avalon.”
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” she said swiftly. “I just want to know that it is alright if I go on this journey. There are no pressing council meetings, or business, that I must attend to?”
Mother Asta shook her head. “No, you are free to go if you want. It would probably be good to go back into the Far North. We haven’t been back since the liberation. The people will be overjoyed to see you again. I will prepare for our journey if you like.”
Avalon shook her head. “I will travel alone, Mother. I need to do this by myself. I will take Sidsel and Hansa, but no escort.”
Mother Asta hesitated then nodded. “If that is what you wish.” She paused. “Will you be back in time for the commitment ceremony? I know that Everard and Minna want you there.”
Avalon smiled a little sadly. “Of course. I am happy for them and want to share in their special day.”
“Are you sure?” said the Mother, gazing at her. “It must be a little painful for you, considering the history between you all. I know that they want you to be there, but if you cannot handle it, I will make excuses for you.”
“That is kind of you, Mother,” she replied, staring at the ground. “But not necessary. They are meant to be together. They love each other deeply, and I would never stand in the way of that. I know that Skyresh would say the same thing…if he were here.”
Mother Asta nodded. “I will tell the others that you are journeying to the Far North then. When do you plan to go?”
“Today,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I will tell them myself, don’t worry. I need to say good bye to them and make sure that everything is covered in my absence.” Everard and Minna had become her generals and were part of the inner council, as were Mother Asta and Escolen.
“There is another reason, you know,” Avalon said slowly, “for my journey. I am going to start an Academy for Anasta women warriors. A training ground for all the little girls who wish to serve the realm. I am going to travel into the villages, recruiting for it.”
Mother Asta nodded. “A wonderful idea. And we can start the women’s tents and ceremonies again. Your mother and grandmother would be proud, Avalon.” She hesitated. “As she would be, I am sure. Your sister.”
Avalon smiled sadly. “Yes, I am doing it for her, as well,” she said. “Who knows what she may have been if such a thing were possible when she was alive? She was a skilled sorceress. She would have been a mighty Anasta warrior woman, I am sure of it.”
“The sisterhood is all around you, Avalon,” whispered Mother Asta, gently laying a hand on her arm. “You will create something of beauty and power, I just know it.”
Mother Asta turned and left. Avalon gazed after her. She contemplated the blank wall for another moment then left the room.
She wanted to leave soon, now that she had cleared it with the Mother. The restlessness which invaded her blood soared, and she could barely stop herself from running from the Palace and galloping into the distance—right now.
***
At last. She was free. The outskirts of the city lay behind her, and the countryside opened up like a gift.
She crouched down low over Sidsel and let the horse increase her pace to a fast gallop. It felt so wonderful to have the wind in her hair again. Since the liberation, she had not had time to do this. There were always so many pressing issues that needed to be attended to. New infrastructure to create. Committees to build new hospitals and schools. The list was endless and exhausting.
But they were finally free. Her beloved people. The Stromel had never given up, and they were now reaping the rewards of their tenacity.
She couldn’t have done it without them. Her love for them was as she imagined a mother felt towards her children.
There had been massive street parties for days after the liberation of the city. The people had whooped and hollered with joy. She didn’t think that any had slept in that time. She knew that she hadn’t. And then she had rolled up her sleeves and set to work. The first thing that she had done was declare that the realm was officially Masgata once again.
It would take time to fully clear the realm of the influence of the Jarle. The liberated prisoners of the camps, and especially the Unseen, would be forever traumatized by what had happened to them, but together, they could start the journey toward healing and recovery.
She had to believe that.
How happy he would be, she thought suddenly, to see this.
It had been his dream, his whole life. He gave up his life for it. Long before she had become a part of the rebellion and realized her destiny as queen, Skyresh had been the rebel leader. She felt a single tear slide down her face and the raw ache start crawling through her once again.
She thought of her farewell to Everard and Minna that morning. They had both been worried for her, she could tell. And they knew that there was more to her journey than recruiting for the Anasta Academy.
Skyresh’s name had hovered between them, but none of them would say it.
“You will be back in time for our ceremony, won’t you?” Minna had asked, gazing at her. “It wouldn’t feel right if you weren’t there to give us your blessing.”
Avalon had smiled kindly. It had been one of the most unexpected and welcome things that had happened since the liberation. She and Minna had become friends, at long last. And even more than that, they had become like sisters. When Avalon had first told her about her vision for an Anasta Academy and the women’s tents and ceremonies, Minna’s eyes had lit up, and she had asked if she could serve alongside Avalon to establish it.
“Yes, of course I will,” she said now. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world! Are you almost ready?”
Minna had smiled, gazing up lovingly at Everard. “Almost. My family will be here from the Far North in a week. My dress is almost ready, too.” She paused, looking at Avalon. “I would love for you to see it and give your opinion.”
Avalon nodded, trying to ignore the wave of sadness that washed over her. This was a happy time for them, and she had no right to bring it down. She was the one that had insisted they go ahead with the ceremony so quickly. At first, they had been hesitant, thinking that it wasn’t the time.
Avalon knew that Minna regretted that she had never had a chance to talk to Skyresh about the end of their relationship, and that she was in love with another. It weighed heavily on the young woman, and, of course, she grieved for Skyresh, just as the rest of them did. They had known each since they were children, after all.
“You will be careful, won’t you?” said Everard, his dark eyes anxious. “Don’t take any unnecessary risks on your journey. I would hate to hear that you are in a ditch, having ridden too fast on Sidsel, and broken your leg or something.”
Avalon laughed. “I promise! You are worse than an older brother, Everard! I am a grown woman—besides being a queen, don’t forget. I can look after myself.”
“Don’t get too sad,” he said suddenly. “I know that one day…” his voice drifted off, unable to spe
ak of the person that they were all thinking of.
Avalon gulped, nodding. She knew that despite their differences, Everard had respected Skyresh.
She had seen tears glittering in Minna’s eyes. There was a painful silence.
“I know that you all think he is dead,” she had said suddenly. “And perhaps he is, but I will keep searching—forever.”
They had nodded. The air was filled with the weight of the sadness between them.
Minna had left the room, and Everard had stayed with her.
“I know that you will find him,” he had said gently. “If anyone can, it is you, Avalon. I thank the Goddess that you came into my life all those years ago. None of this would have been possible without you. I will always love you, you know that, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she had whispered. “Just as I will always love you, Everard. It has been a long, hard journey to where we are now. So much has happened. So much loss. But I am glad that you have been by my side…for most of it anyway.”
They had embraced, and he had left.
And now, she was alone. The Rebel Queen, heading north. No, not the Rebel Queen anymore. The true Queen of the newly restored realm of Masgata.
She glanced to her left as she galloped, watching Hansa sprinting alongside her, her constant companion through thick and thin.
She felt tears falling down her face, thinking of Skyresh. The time had never been right for them. She knew, fully and completely, how much she loved him now. How much she had always loved him. How much she wanted him by her side—forever.
He was the one. The only one. There would never be anyone else. She would rule alone, forever, if she could not have him.
***
She rode hard, barely stopping for a drink. Every village that she passed through cheered her as she rode by, gazing with adoration at their beloved queen.
She was climbing now. Heading into the Far North. She rode through the ruins of the High Wall, remembering the day that they had finally breached it and liberated the South. Skyresh had fought so valiantly that day. It seemed that wherever she went, the vision of him would appear before her.