The Book of Kaels Bundle (Books 2 - 4): The Wood Kael, The Metal Kael, The Fire Kael

by Wendy Wang

  “Aunt Merin! We need you!” Cilla put her feet in motion, but stopped on the top step and glanced over her shoulder. Her young sons had their faces pressed up against the screen door. She summoned her stern mother voice again. “You two stay put until I say it’s safe. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes Mama,” Tom said.

  “Yes Mama,” Danny echoed his older brother. She gave them a sharp nod and moved quickly down the steps to catch up with her cousin. The last they’d heard, Trygg had disappeared. No one dared to say the word desertion out loud. But the thought clung to the skin—a chilling mist of disappointment—whenever his name was mentioned.

  By the time Cilla reached them, Birgit had positioned her brother flat on his back, with his head in her lap. She stroked his hair and muttered everything would be all right. As Cilla drew closer, the cloud of calm Birgit was using to lessen her brother’s panic and pain, enveloped her and her anxiety dissipated. Without the fear, her thoughts became very clear and she homed in on the large wet spot, blackening his shirt.

  Birgit shifted her gaze to Cilla. “He's wounded.”

  Cilla nodded and knelt next to her cousin. “Let me take a look. You just keep calming him.” She peeled away the blood-soaked cotton, and the stench of rot and infection struck her in the face. She swallowed back her urge to gag, breathing through her nose.

  “That looks really bad,” Birgit whispered, sounding both terrified and sick.

  Cilla turned her head and gulped fresh air before meeting her cousin’s gaze. “It’s fine. I promise you, it’s nothing I can’t take care of.” She called up a smile and kept her voice steady. “We need to get him inside.”

  “I'm sorry,” he croaked. “I thought I could handle them. I thought—where’s Y'Ana? Y'Ana!”

  Birgit stroked his cheek and soothed him with her voice. “Shhh. Don’t worry. We’re going to take care of you,” she said. “It's going to be all right. You are going to be all right.” She forced a smile and leveled her gaze on Cilla. “Get his feet,” Birgit commanded and grabbed her brother underneath his arms. She waited for Cilla to step between his legs and grasp beneath his knees. Together they hoisted his body off the ground.

  Cilla glanced at the child who stared at them with wide, terrified blue eyes.

  “It's okay honey,” Cilla said in her most soothing mother voice. “We're going to take care of him. Why don’t you follow us? All right?”

  The little girl's eyes welled with tears. Cilla opened her mouth to persuade the girl.

  “It’s all right Mama,” Tom said appearing beside her. He flashed a smile at her and gave her a wide berth. “I’ll bring her inside.”

  Cilla snapped her gapping mouth shut and gave him an approving nod. For once, she was glad he did not obey her. He held out his little brother’s stuffed rabbit, Mr. Chevere as a peace offering or a bribe, she wasn’t sure which. “I’m Tom. What’s your name?”

  The girl didn’t answer. Instead she stared at the toy in his hand.

  “Don’t worry, my mom's a great healer. She’ll have him fixed up in no time. Do you want to come play? I’ve got more toys.”

  “Tom,” Birgit said. “We've got to get Trygg inside now.”

  “Yes ma'am.” He nodded and took a step closer to the girl. “We’ll be fine.”

  Cilla and Birgit exchanged glances and her cousin shrugged one shoulder and said, “Let’s get moving.”

  Cilla nodded, smiling to herself. Her sweet sensitive Tom was always coming to her rescue. “Tom, it’ll be supper time soon.”

  “Yes ma’am.” He smiled and the girl took the rabbit from his hands and hugged it close. “See how soft it is? My Gram made it. She makes great toys.”

  Birgit started walking, in a slow crab-like fashion and Cilla followed, glancing over her shoulder once more. The girl gave Tom a reluctant smile but followed him when he headed back towards the house.

  Two

  Neala grabbed a handful of snow and pressed it to her mouth. It melted against her lips, trickling down her chin and onto her tongue. She squeezed her eyes shut willing the nausea to pass, but it had hold of her and wouldn't let go so easily. She leaned against a tall skinny pine hoping no one would notice.

  “Are you all right, Your Majesty?” Gordon asked.

  Neala scowled and took a bite of snow before throwing the rest to the ground. She straightened up and faced him.

  “I'm fine,” she snapped. “What makes you think I'm not fine?”

  Gordon's eyebrows disappeared beneath his thick red bangs and his green eyes widened. He raised his hands in surrender. “No reason. You just don't normally slump against trees. That's all.”

  Neala twisted her mouth into a frown. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell.”

  “You are welcome to yell at me anytime Majesty.” He stepped closer. “If you are feeling under the weather though it's all right to go home and take care of yourself.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “I'll keep that in mind.”

  “All right then,” Gordon said. “Are you ready to meet with the camp leader?”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “Lead the way.”

  She followed Gordon through the tent city that had popped up with the latest batch of refugees from Nydia. People stopped and stared as she passed, their eyes widening with recognition, before they fell to their knees, bowing before her. She wanted to shout at them to get up but it wouldn't have stopped them and as Gordon had pointed out on two occasions it would have just confused them.

  “You're their queen. You should let them treat you that way.” He had scolded her. So she smiled and nodded at them and prayed that her stomach would not betray her before she reached the camp leader’s tent.

  Almando Mardean was almost as tall as Gordon. His thick dark hair hung down his back and his pointed goatee sharpened his soft features. He stopped before her put his hands together and bowed deeply.

  “Your Majesty,” he said. “It is so good to see you. Thank you so much for visiting with us. It means the world to your people.”

  “I'm just glad that you all made it here safely,” Neala said. “Do you have everything you need? Food, water, supplies? We have several healers coming this afternoon to attend to anyone who needs medical attention.”

  “Yes, I believe we have enough. We're just grateful to find refuge here.”

  “Well, you are very welcome here. Of course as a safety precaution there will be wardens assigned as guards. To help protect you from anything that might arise,” she said. She couldn't believe how easily the words slipped off her tongue and how diplomatic they sounded. She was getting better at being queen.

  “Of course, Your Majesty. We are grateful for any protection you can give us.” Mardean said, bowing his head.

  Dizziness waved through her and the room spun. Her hand flew outward reaching for something to steady her. Her mouth filled with saliva and her stomach wrenched.

  “Your Majesty,” Gordon said grabbing hold of her arm.

  Her other hand flew to her mouth covering it and she bolted out of the tent, barely making it outside before retching. She leaned over, with her hands on her knees and her face burning from the strain. When her stomach finally stopped rebelling she squeezed her eyes shut, breathing in the cool wintry air. She opened her eyes to find Gordon’s gloved hand floating in front of her, full of fresh clean snow.

  “It will help more if you put it on your wrists,” he said softly. “It also helps on the back of the neck.”

  “You’re full of interesting knowledge aren’t you?” She took the snow and pressed it against her mouth and then pinched off a little and rubbed it across the back of her neck. “Thank you,” she croaked. “I guess I'm not really feeling very well.”

  “I know that was very difficult for you to admit. We’re not very far from my mother's. I think we should stop there.”

  “Why?” Neala said straightening up.

  “Because she's an excellent healer.”

  “Gordon!” she said
, then grimaced. She had not meant to be so short with him, it just seemed everything these days made her react. Taking a deep breath, she regained some of her composure. “I am fine. I appreciate your concern but I don't need —”

  “Do not tell me you are fine,” he said. The sharpness of his tone shocked her into silence and the weight of his heavy gaze fixed her to the spot. “Either we go see my mother or I tell the chief you vomited all over the refugee leader. I'm quite certain he’ll have a healer at the palace within moments after hearing my version of the story.”

  “Well that wouldn’t be a lie. You would betray me?”

  “Yes.” His chin jutted in defiance. “In this case I would.”

  Neala crossed her arms. Gordon rarely defied her directly, unless there was an order in place from the chief. Usually he would try to subvert her desires to something more compatible with the chief’s orders and use his humor to do it. She frowned, letting her bottom lip pout a little. “You know, you're mean.”

  His mouth twitched, as if at any second he might break into a grin, but she could see him fighting to suppress it and not once did he break his gaze. “Indeed I am, Your Majesty. Indeed, I am. Now which will it be?”

  “Fine.” She threw her hands into the air and blew out a heavy breath. “I'll go see your mother.”

  Gordon bowed his head. “Wise choice, as always. I’ll just go make our apologies and we’ll be off.”

  ******

  “Egan Danek Crane,” the center judge started, “You have been found guilty of desertion from the Queen’s Army. For treason against the Queen and for the murder of Jorgen Heard.”

  Egan gritted his teeth and stared straight ahead not meeting anyone's eyes. Of course they found him guilty. The whole trial had been a farce and most of it based on the whining of the seer. He had heard the guards talking about her, how she had moved into the palace with the younger girl. How the Queen had favored her. Treated her like a sister. It made his stomach turn. He glanced towards her but couldn't see her face. She bowed her head letting that long curtain of hair stand between them.

  “For these crimes you have been sentenced to death by hanging. And to act as a warning, your body will be gibbeted at the south entrance of the city to remind all those who enter that traitors are not welcome here.”

  The room erupted in murmurs and the judge banged her gavel. “I will have order here.”

  “Do you have any words for yourself?” the judge asked.

  Egan sneered and stared at the seer willing her to look at him. He could see her body trembling. She raised her head and stared straight defying him once again.

  “You will all rot in Nahl when the Emperor rules this land.”

  The murmurs turned into a rumble of angry cries and the judge hammered her gavel and shouted at the crowd, “Order! I will have order here!”

  The crowd quieted again. “You are sentenced to death Egan Danek Crane to be carried out at 11 AM on the eve of the new moon. May Jerugia have mercy on you.”

  Egan smirked. “And on you judge.”

  The crowd erupted again. Heavy hands grabbed him by the arms forcing him from the podium, guiding him towards the side door. Toby held fast to his arm and ushered him down the corridor. A smug grin played at the corners of Toby's mouth.

  “Well done Egan,” Toby said. “Well done indeed.”

  ******

  Cilla and Birgit carried Trygg down the long hallway to a small bedroom on the first floor. Her aunt had pulled back the patchwork quilt, exposing the fresh white sheets. They placed him on the bed as gently as they could, but he still grunted and his already red face deepened to a purple color.

  “What do you need from me Cilla?” her aunt asked, wringing the tea towel she held in her hands.

  Cilla rubbed her forehead. “I need some gauze, warm water, witch hazel, oil of lavender, oil of rosemary, oil of ricin bean, and some oil of frankincense if you have it.”

  Her aunt nodded at each request. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “And Aunt Merin, it would be helpful if you could contact my mother and have her come as quick as possible,” Cilla said calmly.

  Her aunt's round face crumpled with the last request. Calling in her mother was serious business. Merin smoothed her silver hair off her forehead. Her lips trembling as she said, “Of course. I'll get right to it.” She turned and disappeared through the door.

  Birgit straightened her back and Cilla could see her getting her fear under control.

  “What can I do?”

  “I’m gonna need you to hold him down, while I debride this wound. It’s gonna feel like he’s wrenched in the mouth of a Nahl beast,” she said matter-of-factly. Birgit’s tan face paled. “Can you do that?”

  An array of emotions slid across Birgit’s face but finally she jutted her chin, almost defiantly. “Of course I can. You forget I'm a Water Kael.”

  “That is one thing I didn't forget,” Cilla said giving her cousin a reassuring smile. “It's going to be all right Birgit.”

  “You promise.” Her cousin's voice quivered.

  Cilla gave her a quick nod and met her gaze with steadiness. “I promise.”

  ******

  Neala fastened the last button of her blouse and slipped her heavy sweater over her head. From the corner of her eye she watched as Gordon's mother washed her hands in a basin then tucked her white hair behind her ear. Her green eyes glittered and the wrinkles around them deepened as she offered a warm smile.

  “Are you all right, Your Majesty?” Gordon's mother asked. She dried her hands with the linen towel and tucked it into the loop sewn into her apron.

  Neala lifted her braid and straightened her collar before dropping it down her back. “Yes,” Neala said. Maybe if she said it enough it would become true.

  “Are you sure? If you have any questions or concerns this would be the time.”

  Neala folded her arms across her chest. “No I'm fine. Really.”

  “All right then,” his mother said. She bowed her head. “Just going to head downstairs then.”

  “All right,” Neala said. “Don't tell Gordon.” Her tone was too strident and she winced at how demanding it sounded. She still needed to work on that. “I mean,” she called up a smile. “Please don't tell Gordon.”

  Huldah Gubler pressed her lips together and Neala wasn't sure if she was suppressing a smile or not. “As you wish, Your Majesty. It is your news to tell. Not mine.”

  “Thank you,” Neala said. She sighed. “It's just your son has a big mouth. I mean not really he is very good at keeping state secrets. But sometimes when he knows something about me he has a hard time not telling my husband.” Neala rolled her eyes. “It's infuriating. I mean —” Huldah was staring at her with a quizzical look on her face. For a moment Neala could see what Gordon would look like when he was older. He had his mother's long oval face and when they both smiled their dark green eyes turned into half-moons. “I trust him with my life. That's what I mean. Just not always my secrets.”

  “Well Your Majesty, you are a very wise woman.” Huldah winked at her. “My son is many things. But when he cares deeply for someone he will often do whatever he thinks is best for them. Even if it's none of his business.”

  “Yes,” Neala said. “I am very familiar with that behavior.”

  “I do know that he would do anything for you. If you ask him not to tell your husband. He won't.”

  “I hope you're right,” Neala said.

  “I am,” Huldah said. “Trust him. He'll come through for you. Now I really am going to let you finish dressing.”

  Huldah closed the door behind her and Neala poured water over her hands and pressed her palms to her face. A small mirror hung on the wall over the basin stand. Her usually pale cheeks were flushed red and she had stray flyaway hairs that it pulled out of her braid making her look like she had just escaped from an asylum. She smoothed her hair back and took a deep breath. “You can do this. Absolutely. You can do this.”

 
; She pressed her hand to her belly and tried to ignore the doubt slicing through her. “You will be a good mother. “She blew out a breath. “You can do this.”

  Three

  Gordon hopped up from the parlor chair and met her at the bottom of the stairs. Concern etched lines into his forehead. “Is my queen going to live?”

  “You just leave her alone,” his mother scolded. “Of course she’s going to live. You’re not funny.” His mother gave him a sideways glance and scoffed. “Not one bit.”

  “Well, I certainly hope so,” Neala said with a straight face, wanting to at least appear unconcerned.

  A shadow passed over Gordon’s dark green eyes and his gaze fixed on her. One of his bushy, red eyebrows quirked up. It was a look Neala knew all too well and it caused her heart to flutter with panic.

  “Mum, is the queen really going to be all right?”

  “Oh Gordon, calm yourself.” A smile twitched at the corners of his mother’s mouth.

  “You’re not telling me something,” Gordon said.

  Neala opened her mouth to speak but closed it again.

  Fear shined in his eyes, and deepened the lines of his face. “Majesty? You’re scaring me.”

  How was she supposed to respond to that? The minute she opened her mouth she knew the truth would come blathering out and she just might start crying and never stop. So, she stared at him, wide eye, unable to find her voice.

  Gordon scowled, “That’s it. I’m taking you home, and you’re seeing one of the palace healers.”

  “No!” She shook her head. She bit her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. “I am fine.”

  He looked to his mother for an answer. She shrugged her lean shoulders. “You heard her she's fine.”

  “But she was sick.”

  “I can assure you Son, she is not sick. In fact, she's quite healthy.”

  “All right.” He dragged out the words and Neala could see his mind working. It was obvious he didn’t know who to believe. “Well, thank you for taking a look Mother.”