A Fugitive's Kiss

by Jaime Clevenger

  The queen had kept a witch in her castle in Ald. Darin remembered the short-statured, gray-haired woman leaning over the castle wall as if she didn’t worry about a fall. She’d slink about in the castle’s dark recesses, laughing whenever she surprised someone by suddenly appearing from around the bend of a hallway. She was the queen’s confidant and held more power than any other in the castle. Perhaps it had taken time for her to learn her skills—just as Aysha had said that her healing skills had taken time to master.

  The skies darkened and still Aysha hadn’t returned from her meeting with the Elders. Darin finally decided to search for her scent. She nearly ran into Aysha when she stepped out onto the main road. Aysha grabbed her hand at the sound of hooves pounding the road. A dozen or more soldiers galloped past the cottage, heading away from the castle with a cloud of dust behind them.

  As soon as they’d gone, Aysha motioned to the barn. Darin lit a lantern and waited for Aysha to catch her breath. The color had drained from her face and beads of sweat were dripping down her brow. “What happened?”

  “The people of Caratia have overthrown the king. Bairndt’s in hiding and the Caratian townsfolk have control. Word passed to the soldiers here this afternoon and they’re being called back to Caratia. By this time tomorrow, Heffen will be empty.”

  Aysha paused and Darin handed her their water flask. She sat down on the bed mat by her, reaching for her hand. “Aysha, we need to leave. Tonight.”

  “We can’t leave—not now. The Caratian people had planned this carefully, gathering weapons all winter long and training. Some here in Tiersten were part of it as well, aiding the Caratians with weapons. Some even went last night to join in the fight. I’ve met so many people today, I can’t even tell you half the names. Everyone was asking to meet with me. And they wanted to see the locket…

  “Some say that I’ve brought this all about. That my coming to Tiersten is part of this somehow or that it’s somehow Lady Spur’s doing. No matter how I argue, everyone is certain I’m a witch. They honestly believed my grandmother was a witch and because I look like her and have this locket…I didn’t even know my grandmother. But it’s ridiculous,” Aysha continued. “You know I’m not a witch, and of course I’ve never set foot in Caratia. How is it that our coming to Tiersten could have anything to do with what’s happened in Caratia?”

  “We have to leave,” Darin repeated. “Even if you’ve had nothing to do with this, if the king hears that a witch in Tiersten had some part in his overthrow…”

  “The roads are filled with soldiers. We can’t leave now.”

  Darin realized she was right. With the Caratian soldiers on the move, the roads might be more dangerous than this barn, and they had no destination beyond here.

  “But if anyone passes along word about you being a witch…”

  “But I’m not,” Aysha argued.

  A thundering of hooves on the road outside rattled her nerves. Darin reflexively blew out the lantern’s candlewick. She knew it was only another group of soldiers leaving the castle, but their scent prickled her skin. She worried that someone might search the barn if they noticed the light.

  “We shouldn’t have come here. I should have let you keep me at the river.” Aysha reached for Darin. Tears streaked her cheeks.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ranik passed the weeks after Shawn left in a dark haze. He felt useless, slept endlessly, and couldn’t explain his raging temper even to himself. Helm started feeding Prince without him having to ask and Tillie took over care of the hens. The herb garden went to dust and he pushed away a pang of guilt for not watering Aysha’s plants. A neighbor brought over food and cleaned his piled up dishes, then stopped bringing the food when it was clear that he wasn’t eating. Callan avoided him entirely, as did several old friends.

  He heard nothing regarding Shawn’s recovery or her location, but he didn’t ask about her either. No one spoke of the possibility that her miscarriage could have been her own doing. Or somehow his fault, though he obsessed over that thought. No one offered condolences either. What he longed for was some whisper of understanding. How could he grieve something he’d never wanted?

  One night he stumbled out of the tavern drunk from cider and realized he had no reason to go home. He could leave Glen Ore at any moment and no one would stop him. The next day, when he had his wits about him, he bartered for a seat on the first wagon that came through the village. He took the few coins he had, a bed mat, his flute, and an old toy boat his father had carved for him, all shoved in a saddlebag that he strapped over his shoulder. The driver was alone, carrying a full wagon of chickens, but he made room for him on the front boards. Ranik closed his eyes as soon as the wagon began to move. They rocked and bumped over the dirt road, making a slow but steady pace away from his mistake.

  The driver’s name was Michel. He had a knack for endless conversation and seemed to appreciate Ranik’s nearly mute audience. They spent a night in Glen Briar and another in Glen Roushe. Michel slept in the wagon with the chickens. Ranik slept on his bed mat as far away from the stench of chickens as he could get.

  Michel sold eggs and hens and bartered for food in exchange for an hour or two of work wherever he stopped. Ranik worked at his side, not minding that their pace was slowed with frequent breaks. He ate the offered food only because he wouldn’t be rude to a stranger.

  In Glen Falls, one old mother asked them to mend her gate and chicken coop after a fox had gotten in it. She eyed Ranik suspiciously at first but came out on her porch to listen when he played his flute after their work was finished. He played the same melancholy tune over and over. It had come to Ranik in a dream, a dream in which he imagined playing it to the lost baby. The old woman asked him to play the song again as soon as he’d finished. He only noticed her tears after he’d stopped.

  The woman wouldn’t let them leave without supper. She gave him a large bowl of stew and a thick slice of bread. He ate the food and thanked her, but she kept staring at him and finally tut-tutted about something she needed to give away. She brought out a wool cap, saying it was her husband’s, and fitted it on Ranik’s head. He protested, but she leaned close and said, “I mended this old cap, though I knew my husband would never wear it again. Your heart will mend too.”

  He cried himself to sleep that night, soundless sobs that racked his body and left him weak and exhausted. It was the first time he had shed as many tears since losing his parents. He’d lost everything—Jenner, Aysha, and a child he never knew he wanted. The mistake with Shawn had been his one chance at fatherhood and now it was gone, as strangely as it had come, all against his will. He kept the wool cap pulled down over his ears, imagining the tears the old woman must have shed as she mended it.

  * * *

  They arrived in the seaside port of Crag the next morning, two weeks after he’d bought his passage. Michel bid him well, dropping Ranik at the docks as requested. The boats were dizzying in number. A dozen small rigs were moored at the first dock alone, and several large boats were anchored just beyond these. He walked the length of the first dock, not asking the question that burned in his mind, but scanning every boat for a blond-haired man.

  Jenner wasn’t on any of the boats. Ranik decided to check in the taverns next. No one had seen or heard of him for weeks. Only the innkeeper had any information. Jenner had taken up on a boat bound to the Halo Isles three weeks prior. He had no guess on when the boat might return.

  Ranik went back to the docks and stared at the boatmen hopping about, everyone with a job. He sat down on an overturned wash bucket, wishing he’d come three weeks earlier. Jenner was gone now…

  Someone slapped his shoulder and he glanced up, sun in his eyes. He squinted to see an old man with a thick gray beard and a fishing pole in one hand.

  “Off the bucket. Unless you’re a fish, I don’t want you.”

  Ranik stood up, apologizing.

  “Are you wanting work?” Before he answered, the old man pointed to one of the
docks further down the way. “Ask for the shipmaster, Asa. Boat sets sail today and they’re taking a few more men. We don’t need any more of you taking up space here.”

  Asa was easy to find—everyone in Crag seemed to know of him. He was as tall as a Northerner but had a Southerner’s brown skin. But he wasn’t called Asa by the crew—only Captain—the first mate informed him tersely. Captain had thick dark curls of hair that fell down past his shoulders in a tangled disarray. He threw a rope to Ranik and looked pleased when it was easily caught. “You’ll do,” was all he said.

  The first mate, who went by the name Anchor, sorted through Ranik’s pack before they let him aboard. “No ale, no fighting. If you want any of that, pick a different boat.”

  Ranik hadn’t touched ale since he’d left Glen Ore and he had no will to fight anyone. He was quickly given the job of securing crates of supplies. The boat was setting sail a week earlier than planned, carrying an order to the army in the southern port of Caratia, where a king recently had been overthrown. It wasn’t the Halo Isles, as Ranik had hoped, but he wouldn’t stay in Crag waiting for another option.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Within days of the king’s overthrow, most of the Caratian soldiers and their horses had left Tiersten and townsfolk were plotting ways to eliminate the few soldiers who remained to guard the castle. The Elders cautioned against an attack; even in hiding, King Bairndt was not powerless.

  Darin talked only of leaving Tiersten. Aysha, on the other hand, felt more and more as if they’d been brought there for a reason. Everywhere she went in town, she heard her mother’s whisper. Stories she’d long forgotten of Heffen, the orchard, and a grandmother she never knew retold themselves as she slept. Even if she wasn’t a witch, there must be some purpose to why they had been in Tiersten when Caratia had overthrown the king.

  One night while Aysha was making Tobias tea for a headache, an idea came to her on how to clear out the soldiers. Headaches were the first symptom of people coming down with the Red Fever. If a few of the townsfolk were to develop Red Fever and word of the outbreak passed to the remaining soldiers…

  Aysha went to the Elders with her plan, and shortly thereafter the soldiers at the castle witnessed a man having a seizure near the front entrance. Within a day, the dozen soldiers who remained had cleared the castle.

  To make certain that their hoax was believed, the Elders advised townsfolk to keep to their homes, and traders were turned away at the town borders. King Bairndt might well send someone to investigate further at some point, but the stunt would buy time to prepare for the soldiers’ return.

  The morning after the soldiers departed, a young messenger came to Tobias’s barn. Aysha recognized him as the grandson of one of the Elders.

  “Lady Spur,” he began, his voice cracking.

  “I’m not Lady Spur. You can call me Aysha.”

  The teen chewed on his lip and shifted his feet. “I’d prefer not to say your name at all if it’s all right with you. There’s stories…”

  “What’s the message?” Darin said, not bothering to hide her irritation.

  “Right—the Elders want you to move to Heffen. Marian will come this afternoon to accompany you. There’ll be others too.”

  “Move to the castle? Why?”

  “That’s all I was told.” He wouldn’t meet Aysha’s gaze. “Can I go then?”

  “Go back to the Elders and tell them we’re leaving,” Darin said.

  “We’re not leaving,” Aysha argued, glancing sharply back at Darin. “Not until we find out what their plan is.” She turned back to the teen. “Why would they want us in Heffen? Even if they didn’t tell you their reason, you must have some idea.”

  “Everyone’s been talking about the Red Fever scare and how it worked out so well. It was something that the old Lady Spur would have done, they say.” He hesitated. “People are saying that you must be a real witch after all. Even though you say you aren’t. And if a witch is in Heffen…then the soldiers won’t want to return.”

  “That’s their plan?” Darin scoffed at this. “They want to put you up in the castle thinking you’ll scare off King Bairndt’s army? Are they stupid?”

  “Darin, enough,” Aysha said. “Tell the Elders I’ll go to the castle. I’m not saying that we’ll stay for long.”

  Darin fumed after the messenger had gone. She gathered up their things and packed Cobalt’s saddlebags with hardly a word. Aysha wondered if she’d decided to leave Tiersten without her. If Darin left, could she stay alone?

  When the group of Elders knocked on the barn door, Aysha was surprised to see Tobias among them.

  “Didn’t want to miss the chance to see Heffen one last time,” Tobias said.

  “You can ride Cobalt,” Darin offered.

  Tobias held out his cane and took Darin’s arm as she helped him into the saddle. Together they led the way up to Heffen. Aysha wondered at Tobias’s change of heart toward Darin. Somehow, she’d won the old man over despite her Northern blood. More than the change in Tobias, she wondered that Darin seemed to have decided to stay with her—even in Heffen—despite her reservations.

  Aysha felt a rush of excitement that was only partly tainted by fear. She was finally going to see the inside of the castle her imagination had conjured up so many times. And Darin was at her side. Tobias beamed as they crossed the threshold of the castle courtyard and started pointing out landmarks to them.

  The castle was long and narrow, but only the middle section had seen much use. Shaped like a hexagon, it was larger than any house Aysha had ever seen. In addition to the entrance hall with a tall domed ceiling and walls crowded with weapons and shields, there was a long dining room, a kitchen, a wash room, two bedrooms and a sitting area filled with rows of wooden benches.

  Two narrow hallways led in either direction from the central hexagon, and the rooms off of these hallways were in various levels of disrepair. The walls of some of the rooms had caved in and others had only a dirt floor.

  According to the Elders, more than eighty soldiers had been posted in Heffen. They had apparently used the wings on each side of the central hexagon for their living quarters—and seemingly had never bothered to clean up after themselves. Rats scampered about in rooms filled with filth, oblivious to the audience.

  Marian, one of the Elders, provided historical notes about the Heffen Castle as they walked through its long wings. According to her, King Ranier had been the last legitimate occupant of Heffen. Lady Spur was his second cousin. Marian also noted that after King Ranier passed, there were many discussions concerning what the town might do with Heffen. Most of the town didn’t think they needed a new king, but no one could settle on what should be done with the castle. Heffen had remained unoccupied until the Caratian soldiers arrived.

  “Some say King Ranier took too much guidance from the spirit world. Lady Spur was the first he’d consult in all matters…” Marian said. “After his death, the Elders realized that they were quite capable of administering laws in Tiersten. In fact, there was little that the king had done that the Elders could not do better, many said.” She paused. “With the king gone, your grandmother had no role in the Council of Elders. She was angered that she’d lost her say in what went on in Tiersten. So much so that—well, as you know—she advised every member of the Spur family to leave Tiersten.”

  Aysha didn’t argue with Marian’s rendition of the events leading to her grandmother leaving Tiersten. But it did sound less credible than Tobias’s recollection of an angry mob and death threats.

  As Marian continued with details of Northern soldiers taking over Caratia and then coming for Tiersten and the subsequent rule by a heartless king from the north, she made no further reference to her grandmother. When Aysha asked why the Elders wanted her to stay in Heffen, Marian claimed that her presence was only that—a presence. “I doubted the judgment of the Council on this decision,” she admitted. “But here you are.”

  Aysha doubted it as well, but for
as long as she’d known of Heffen, she’d wanted to see inside it. Witch or not, she was curious. But now she also wanted to give the town a chance. If her presence might bring hope of an overthrow of King Bairndt, it would be enough.

  “Your position in Heffen is to have no ruling powers over Tiersten and you’ll have no obligations beyond living in the castle. One exception,” Marian said, “is if an unforeseen catastrophe prevents the Elder Council from acting.”

  Aysha nodded. “And I can leave if I want as well?”

  Marian smiled finally. “I wouldn’t blame you at all. Just because you look like your grandmother doesn’t mean you have to carry her weight.”

  But, Aysha knew, that many of the other Elders believed that if she looked so much like the grandmother, she might one day possess her talents. As eager as they were to tell her that they didn’t believe in witches at all, she’d seen how they studied her. Apparently they had decided she was witch enough to pass. The entire thing seemed an unbelievable farce. Who did they think they would fool?

  Darin wandered in and out of the rooms while Marian went on about Heffen’s history. Aysha watched her handle the swords hung on the walls of the hall. She’d picked out one with an ornate brass handle and, balancing the blade lengthwise, seemed to be weighing it as she gazed down the center of it. Grasping the handle, she made a slicing motion across the air in front of her. The blade caught the light from the windows near where she stood and Aysha held her breath. It was both beautiful and alarming to watch the ease with which she handled the weapon. For the first time since coming to Tiersten, Darin looked relaxed—as if she belonged in a castle with swords all around her.

  Marian eyed Darin too. “How long have you known the Northerner?”

  “Long enough,” Aysha returned. “There’s no question of trust, if that’s what you’re asking.”