empress of storms

by cameron, nicole m

  Above them, the tops of the mountain range were visible, a jagged line of snow-capped peaks that stretched to the north and south. The wind now was brisk and everyone had broken out winter cloaks and other cold weather gear.

  Danaë wrapped herself in the thick woolen cloak Flavia had pressed on her that morning, snugging the hood more securely around her ears. The weather in Hellas was moderate apart from the winter storms. She could remember one time in her life when it had been cold enough to snow during her childhood, and how she and Darius had whooped and romped through the thin rime of white coating their private courtyard. Back then, cold weather had been a delightful oddity. Now, the chill wind made her face ache.

  She recognized the gap between peaks where the trade route would cross over the ridge before descending towards Hellas. It appeared to be free of snow. “How far away do you think we are?” she asked Matthias, nodding at the pass.

  The king’s eyes narrowed as he studied the range. “If we didn’t have to stop here, we would make it by late afternoon.”

  “We’re stopping here? Why?”

  Matthias nodded at the collection of buildings. “That’s a mining village called Creswaal. Don’t be fooled by the look of the place—it’s sitting on a rich vein of iron. The miners ship the ore down to Mons or one of the outlying cities to be smelted, or over the pass to Hellas. If what Caldo said was correct and Lukas took the Kasterlee Road to Hellas, I’m hoping someone here may remember seeing him.”

  What he said made sense. “If he truly was as badly off as Caldo’s brother-in-law said, he would have been desperate to find a mage to help him fight off whatever was attacking him,” Danaë said. “Chances are he would have stopped off at any settlement that was large enough to support one.”

  “Well, then.” Matthias sat up in the saddle. “Let’s go see if my errant son has passed this way.”

  ****

  As it turned out, Lukas had.

  The mayor of the village, a lean but prosperous-looking man by the name of Haansen, had welcomed the royal couple into his office with all due deference. He explained that he was also the mine manager, running it for its owner who lived in Mons. Danaë thought that keeping such disparate duties in one individual was a bit suspect, but decided not to question it for now. After the requisite offers of tea and food, Matthias got down to business, giving the cover story that they were looking for someone who had fallen foul of a curse.

  Haansen blinked at the question, then nodded. “Aye, I remember him, majesty. Came up from the road at sunset, begging to be told if there was a mage in the village. His face were all scratched and scarred, and he had this mad look in his eye. I can still see him all folded in on himself as the sun went down, like he expected demons to fly out of the dusk and attack.”

  The manager scratched his nose. “We get visits from the circuit priest regular-like, and a Terra mage comes up from Mons every year to work reinforcing spells on the mine. But Magister Artur had already been and left that week. I thought the lad would cry when he heard that. And then the queerest thing happened. He straightened up, looking all around him with this strange look on his face. Then he laughed. He laughed and laughed, until he cried like a babe. We all thought he was mad, we did. But he held up gold coins to be shown to a room, any room he said. Well, my missus wasn’t born yesterday, so she said he could stay with us.”

  Matthias frowned in thought. “How long did he stay with you?”

  “Oh, some months, I’d reckon.”

  “Months,” Danaë said, startled. “He stayed here for months?”

  “Oh, longer than that, majesty. Almost a year, if I’m figuring it right. Simons the bookkeeper were getting old, you see, and Luke was a city man.” He tapped the side of his nose. “Educated. He started working with Simons, managing the mine’s books and making sure we got a fair price from the foundries.”

  She could see the stunned expression on Matthias’s face as he tried to imagine the crown prince of Ypres working as a mining bookkeeper. “I see,” he said. “But he did leave?”

  The mayor nodded. “Last spring, belike. A storm came whistlin’ down the mountain early one morning. It tore shingles off near every building in the village and knocked over the arch across the road. And then we heard this screaming. I thought it were the wind howling in the eaves, but it turned out to be Luke himself, running through the village and beating at the air over him. Some of us grabbed him, thinking he was in some sort of fit, but we saw this scratches open up on his cheeks and neck. He broke loose and kept running about until the sun came up. I won’t forget the look on his face, and the wounds all over his shoulders and arms. He went back to Simons’s place, saddled one of the horses, and rode off towards the pass without saying another word. No one here’s seen him since.”

  Matthias sat back in his seat. “Did this Luke ever speak to anyone about where he had come from?”

  “He told me he were an orphan, but that were all,” Haansen said. Danaë’s heart ached at the flicker of pain she saw in her husband’s eyes at that. “You might want to have a word with Simons if you want more than that, majesty. I can have him come here, if you like.”

  “Please.”

  Haansen nodded and left the office. “What do you think?” Matthias said quietly.

  Danaë tried to order her thoughts. “The description does sound like Lukas.”

  “Yes, I agree. But why would he stay here for almost a year?”

  “It seems like something in this village was protecting him. This Magister Artur may have cast a protective spell over the entire area as well as the time. I’d like to have a look around while you speak to this bookkeeper, if you don’t mind.”

  “Good idea. Take Kostas and some of the guards with you.”

  She nodded, getting to her feet. “Will we be stopping like this at every settlement on the road?”

  He seemed tempted, but shook his head. “No. We’re due in Hellaspont for the wedding ceremony. I’ll have men stop at the settlements and ask around.”

  She reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “At least we know he was still alive as of last spring.”

  Matthias sighed. “I’m not sure if that pleases me or not.”

  Danaë gave him another squeeze and headed out. Both Kostas and Schrader were loitering near the mayor’s office with their own soldiers as backup. They had been joined by a stout woman, neatly turned out in a well-made dress with a lace shawl around her shoulders. She curtseyed at Danaë’s appearance. “Your majesty, my husband the mayor has gone to fetch Simons,” she said unctuously. “May I help you in some way?”

  Danaë recognized the behavior of the dedicated social climber. “I thought I might walk about the village a bit,” she said, hoping the prospect of exercise would put the woman off. “I’m eager to learn more about my new country.”

  Mistress Haansen beamed at her. “It would be my honor to act as your guide, majesty. Creswaal has an impressive history, you know.”

  Danaë kept her expression pleasant but cursed to herself. “I’m sure it does.” She turned to Schrader. “Lieutenant commander, the king will remain for a time. Please stay here until he summons you,” she said, nodding to Kostas. “Captain, you’re with me.”

  “Majesty,” Kostas said, giving her a bow. At his gesture eight other Hellene soldiers fell into formation around them. They set off on their tour, Mistress Haansen started burbling on about the village and all the improvements her husband had made to it.

  Danaë listened with half an ear, murmuring at the right points. For all her unfamiliarity with mining villages, the locale itself seemed unremarkable. The bulk of the homes lay at the southern end, while the mine head was at the north, surrounded by the mayor’s office and a handful of ramshackle shops. She extended her senses as they made her way along the pitted main road, searching for anything unusual. There was a feeling of something protective stretching across the area, but it didn’t carry the tang of magecraft.

  A smiling Darius br
oke away from the milling convoy party, Ife on his arm. “Might we join you, sister?” he asked. “I’m of a mind to stretch my legs, and Magistra Ife here shared my inclination.”

  Danaë appreciated her brother’s discretion. “Of course.”

  The soldiers shifted to include them as they continued to walk, moving away from the village proper. Danaë maneuvered so that Ife was on her left while Kostas remained on her right. “Do you feel anything odd about this place?” she asked the mage in an undertone.

  “The protective geas, you mean? Of course.”

  A geas was different from a spell. “Do you know where it’s coming from?”

  Ife gave her an austere glance. “Look around you and tell me what you see.”

  They had reached the narrow strip of cleared land that separated the village from the tree line. Danaë studied the foliage now. The trees were medium sized, with green shield-shaped leaves alternating along a branch. Each tree was thickly decorated with red globulous fruits, gleaming against the dark green of the foliage.

  The answer dawned on her. “Rowan trees,” she said.

  Mistress Haansen smiled at her. “Aren’t they pretty? I do adore rowans, so Mikaal had the miners transplant them when we first came here. Now they form a decorative hedge all around the village.”

  “Really? And is the arch over the village entrance made of rowan wood?”

  “Indeed it is,” Mistress Haansen said, impressed. “You have such an eye for detail, your majesty. Some of the trees didn’t take, poor things, so I had the arch made from them. I thought it gave the village a touch of elegance.”

  It gave the village something else as well: a secure border against demons and spirits. Danaë smiled at the mayor’s wife. “Thank you for your guidance, Mistress Haansen. You’ve been of great assistance.”

  ****

  After the usual flourish of goodbyes the convoy got back on the road. “What did you learn from the bookkeeper?” Danaë asked once the village had disappeared around a bend.

  “He confirmed that someone matching Lukas’s description worked for him for almost a year,” Matthias said. “He also confirmed Haansen’s story about the sudden fit of madness and Lukas running off with one of his horses. But he was vague about any other details.”

  “Deliberate, you think?”

  “I’m not sure. I did get the feeling he was hiding something. I’ll have someone sent back to question him more closely. What did you find out about the village?”

  “Why Lukas was able to stay here for a year without being attacked by anything,” she said, sounding triumphant. “Courtesy of the mayor’s wife, the village is entirely surrounded by rowan trees or rowan wood.”

  Matthias’s brow wrinkled. “And that’s important why?”

  “Rowans have magical properties. The tree gives protection against malevolent beings and prevents those on a journey from getting lost. If Lukas entered the village, he would have been surrounded by that protection. Whatever was chasing him would have been blocked by the rowans’ power, unable to follow.”

  “But it must have broken through eventually,” Matthias pointed out. “How?”

  “Haansen said a terrible storm blew through the village and knocked down the arch. And Mistress Haansen said the arch was made of rowan wood. While it was down, it would have broken the circle of protection, allowing the spirit access to the village. Once it was inside, it found Lukas and started attacking him. He’s very lucky the storm happened before dawn, otherwise he may well have died in his sleep.”

  She nodded at the road ahead of them. “Once his protection was gone, his only hope of survival would be to get away from the spirit as quickly as possible. So he took a horse and rode for the gap and Hellas while the daylight held. Once he crossed the stream on the far side of the village he would have been safe for a while, since spirits can’t cross moving water. It would have to backtrack to the stream’s source to get around it, giving Lukas more time to escape.”

  Matthias’s expression went stony. “He was in Ypres for almost an entire year and I had no idea. I need to speak with Reniel about the efficacy of his spies.”

  Danaë felt the need to defend the patriarch. “No spy in their right mind would have expected Lukas to be working in a remote mining village as an apprentice bookkeeper. Also, the rowans may have also been shielding him from them as well.” She shrugged at her husband’s startled look. “Trees are inherently kind, after all.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  A few hours later Schrader called the convoy to a halt in a small clearing a few hundred feet below the pass. “This is the last decent spot to camp this side of the ridge,” he explained when he rode back to Danaë and Matthias. “If we get an early start tomorrow we can clear the pass and be halfway to Hellas by tomorrow night—”

  They were interrupted by a distant shout from the rear of the convoy. Frowning, the cavalry officer left them to investigate.

  “Did we leave someone in Creswaal?” Darius said, passing him and joining the royal couple.

  “Not that I know of,” Matthias said. “Why?”

  “There’s an old man riding towards us from that direction. He’s got something large bundled in front of him.”

  “Perhaps I won’t have to have a word with Reniel after all,” Matthias said in an undertone, clicking to his mount. Danaë followed him to the back of the convoy. There, an old man in clothes similar to those of the villagers sat on a blowing horse, arguing with one of the guards.

  Her brother was right; there was indeed something wrapped in blankets on the old man’s saddle. It wriggled as she watched, and a fold of blanket fell away to reveal a tiny face with a lock of brown-blond hair. The face screwed up and let out a piercing wail.

  The old man saw Matthias’s approach and sagged in his saddle. “Your majesty,” he called. “I need to speak to you private-like.”

  “Master Simons?” Matthias said in surprise, waving aside the guard. “What are you doing here? And why did you bring a child with you?”

  “I had to, majesty.” The old man hoisted the howling child in his arms, patting her on the back. “That lad we discussed? This is his daughter.” He lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper. “And your granddaughter.”

  7

  LUNA

  Matthias started to lean back in his chair, remembering at the last moment that, while comfortable, the canvas stool didn’t have a back. At his side Danaë sat calmly, hands clasped in her lap. “You’re telling me this child is the daughter of Prince Lukas?” he said.

  “Yes, sire.” Simons didn’t seem impressed by the practical wealth of the royal tent, but had appreciated the comfortable folding chair and the mulled wine offered to him. The little girl sat on his lap now, thumb corked in her mouth. “He showed up in our village nigh on three years ago. City bred lad, pretty as a girl. Said he were mourning his mam and couldn’t go home. Like I said to you earlier, he was a clever lad and I took him on as my apprentice. Not like he was strong enough to work in the mines.”

  Matthias blinked at that. “And the child?”

  The old man joggled said child in his lap. “Her mam was m’ grand-niece, Kaat. Sweet girl, none too smart but kind as anything. She helped Luke at first, got him set up and all. Then they started steppin’ out together. After a bit they built themselves a cabin and Luna here came ‘long nine months later.”

  His attention pricked at the child’s name. It was his mother’s, and Lukas had adored his grandmother. “Luna, you say?”

  “Ayuh.” The old man’s face wrinkled. “A mite fancy, but Luke had his mind made up and Kaat was that fond o’ him that she didn’t put up a fuss. After she came, he told me his real name and swore me to keep it secret, that if I told anyone who he was it would call a doom down on him.” He sighed. “Then poor Kaat caught the morbid throat soon afterwards and died. Luke kept sayin’ it was his fault, that he was cursed. A month later that storm blew up and he ran screaming through the village, beat
ing at the air and begging something to leave him alone. Whatever it was, it left at dawn. Luke brought Luna to my cottage and left her with her gran, then took one of my horses and rode off. Ain’t heard from him since.”

  Matthias counted back the months. The child was the right age to have been born during Lukas’s disappearance. “Your story is interesting, Master Simons, but I don’t see why I should believe that your grand-niece’s child is my granddaughter,” he said evenly.

  The old man nodded at that and reached into his pocket, pulling out something small and golden. He held it up so that it gleamed in the lamplight. “Luke left this. Said if you ever came to the village, I was to show it to you as proof.”

  Matthias reached over and plucked the object from the old man’s hand. The carved image of a rearing horse on the ring confirmed its identity, and his chest felt heavy. “This is the signet ring of the Crown Prince of Ypres.”

  Simons nodded. “Ayuh. Luke said he weren’t needing it no more.”

  Matthias remembered the investment ceremony where he’d crowned his son as his heir and next in line to the throne of Ypres. Lukas had been so promising that day, with Hanne watching with pride from the royal dais. He closed his hand around the ring. “Still not proof. For all I know you could have killed the prince and used this to pawn some toddler off as his heir,” he said bluntly.

  The old man blinked once at that, steel coming into his gaze. “We ain’t killers, majesty,” he said. “Mayhap we’re poor, but we’re good folk and we took your son in when he was heartsore and gave him food and shelter. Poor Kaat loved him fair and true, and gave him this babe. Believe me or don’t, it’s your choice.” He shifted little Luna so that her round baby face was visible. “But my niece is a widow, and poorly now. She can’t be lookin’ after her grandchild anymore, and I’m too old to do it m’self. And since you swanned into the village the Haansens are interested in her all of a sudden, offering to take her in and such. I wouldn’t trust them with a dog, much less a babe. So I’m leavin’ her with her only other kin.”