King of the Rising

by Kacen Callender

  Malthe and I race to the southern end of the island. The Fjern guards crash behind us through the brush and thorns. We burst from the green and into a clearing of the black sand of the bay, their yells chasing us toward the shore. I pray to the spirits that the others have already safely made it to the ships. A Fjern guard runs faster than the others until he’s nearly overtaken me. He cuts his blade at me and I’m forced to spin and block him. The moment has given three more of the Fjern a chance to catch up and surround me. I look behind me to Malthe. He’s stopped as well on the beach, staring at me. For a moment his gaze holds an emotion I can’t understand. And then he turns away. He keeps running for the bay, pulling at the boat that was left by the islanders. I almost shout his name, but any pleas for help will go unanswered. It’ll be easy for Malthe to tell the others that I was cut down—that he couldn’t save me.

  I slash at each of the Fjern when they come at me. I look at the Fjern to my right and imagine his skin being ripped from his flesh. He screams and falls to the ground, clutching at himself. The Fjern to my left stops in shock, and I use the chance to pull the energy from him. I yank it so forcefully that I can feel his life leave his body and he falls to the ground, dead. The last looks at me and thinks of the stories of monsters he’d heard as a child. I fit the description of the tales he’d heard about a man with skin as dark as mine. I don’t need kraft to cut open his neck. The Fjern we’d left behind are running to me, but I turn and race across the black sand. Malthe is already out at sea on the boat, boarding the ship of the Fjern where the other islanders wait. He means to leave me here, but I jump into the waves and swim for the ship that waits beyond the reefs.

  A rope is thrown to me and I’m pulled up. I fall to the deck of the ship, soaked through with saltwater and coughing, my heart still pounding. Malthe already stands on the deck. He won’t meet my eye. Not out of shame for what he’d done, but with disappointment that he hadn’t succeeded. He realizes that he should have killed me himself if he’d wanted me dead.

  CHAPTER TEN

  When we arrive on Hans Lollik Helle, there’s relief among the islanders that they’ve survived. But there’s confusion on land. The guards watch us drag our boats onto the sand of the bay. We were supposed to evacuate those who couldn’t fight. Instead, we returned with our own islanders and more from Valdemar Helle.

  The return journey was longer than it should have been, wind pushing against our sails. The coming night is quieter than in the past on the royal island. The songs are replaced with Marieke’s prayer, her words echoing across the sand and sea. Everyone on the island gathers on the bay to listen to her speak in remembrance of Steef, Erla, and Lieve. We weren’t able to retrieve their bodies to give them the proper burial they deserve, so she asks for their forgiveness. She asks for their wisdom and guidance in winning our freedom against the Fjern. Her prayer ends, and we carry flickering torches back to the field and barracks.

  I need to speak to the other members of the circle immediately—to give an update and decide next steps, to discuss the fact that there might be a traitor on the island and maybe in the room itself. But Marieke and Olina are busy with the new islanders, and Malthe disappears from the field altogether. I notice that there’s a smaller group of guards that leave with him. Geir is also nowhere to be found, and I assume that Kjerstin is still resting. I decide to wait, standing with my arms crossed as I lean against the wall of the barracks.

  The quiet continues as the sky grows darker. No one is used to having strangers on the island, and the guards watch the newcomers warily from their own firepit, only a few paces away from the fire the new islanders sit around. Marieke and Helga help to pass bowls of stew to the young ones and the people of Valdemar Helle. They’ll eat first, as a sign of welcome. The silence is broken by whispers. There’s tension as people discuss when the Fjern will next attack. The anticipation of the attack is more maddening than the war itself. A voice carries, from a guard named Arend. He’s a large man, built with muscle. He stands at the second firepit, his back to the islanders of Valdemar Helle.

  “The Fjern will come any moment, and we’re playing host to strangers. We can’t give away our food,” he says, his complaint heard across the field. The guard named Frey tries to tell him to be quiet, but he’s ignored. “What is it that we’re doing in this revolution of ours?” he asks. Though he wasn’t speaking to anyone but the guards beside him, I can see everyone who has heard him agrees. There are some nods from the islanders who sit together near the barracks, while others walking past stop to listen. The islanders of Valdemar Helle stare at the bowls of stew, not meeting anyone’s eye.

  Arend continues. “We’re not doing anything to win this fight against the Fjern. We’re only waiting on this island. We might as well send them a written invitation to come and slaughter us all.”

  Though no one speaks their agreement, I can feel the thoughts of assent. Marieke meets my eye from across the fire, but I only shake my head at her. I’m glad that Malthe isn’t here. He would begin to shout, to demand silence and respect. This wouldn’t help.

  I’m not surprised when I feel Georg at my side.

  “The other guards want to know what happened on Valdemar Helle,” he says, watching Arend as well. “They want to know what happened to Steef.”

  Guilt thrums through me. “He fought bravely, but we were outnumbered. I couldn’t save him. I’m sorry. I should’ve done more.”

  “I have a lot of respect for you,” he murmurs. “There aren’t many who would take the helm of the rebellion and willingly admit to their own mistakes. They’re more preoccupied with how others view them.”

  He’s speaking about Malthe. I don’t want to speak ill of the commander, so I don’t say anything at all.

  “But,” Georg says, his voice lowering more, “not everyone agrees. They prefer a man who acts more like a ruler, whether he’s a good leader or not.”

  Arend has continued speaking, galvanized by the other islanders who watch and listen. “We have our leaders,” he says, “who lock themselves away in a room and make their decisions so that they can give their orders. They expect us to do as we’re told without complaint. There isn’t much difference between how I’m treated now and how I was treated before the war.”

  I push away from the barrack walls. I can see the glint of eyes following me, heads turning. I walk up to Arend, who spins to meet me. His brown skin shines in the orange firelight. There’s a breath of uncertainty, but he steels himself when I stop in front of him.

  “You’re right,” I tell him. He’s surprised. Others are also, watching us. “We’ve made too many mistakes. You’ve entrusted us, and we’ve failed you.” I look at the islanders of Valdemar Helle, huddled by the fire. “Not only you, but all of our people in these islands. You don’t like that we make our decisions behind closed doors, like the kongelig.” Arend frowns, opening his mouth, unsure of what to say. “We could allow anyone who is interested to join us. We could have the meetings here, in the field.”

  Olina wants to speak against this. Too many voices could lead to too many distractions, too many arguments. But I only look at Arend, waiting for his answer.

  He narrows his eyes. “I don’t need to listen to you talk for hours every day. Just figure out what we need to do to get out of this war and win against the Fjern. Get us on the path to cut their necks and get them out of our islands.”

  The silence is heavy. Everyone waits, watching me expectantly. I wish I could say the words he needs to hear. I wish I could promise Arend and all of the islanders that we’ll do what’s needed to find our freedom. But I can’t say the words when there’s a chance we might not win. I’ve never seen the point in lying.

  Instead, I nod. “We’ll do our best.”

  I go to the meeting room though night has already fallen and there’s little chance that the others will come. I’m surprised when I see Malthe inside of the room. He sits by himself, arms crossed as he watches me enter.

  “Wher
e are the others?” he asks.

  “Marieke and Olina are still helping the islanders of Valdemar become situated. I’m not sure about Geir and Kjerstin.”

  Malthe stares at me. He remembers how he’d left me on the island to die. He knows that I saw him look at me surrounded by Fjern—knows I realized he meant to see me killed. He smiles a little, wondering how I’ll address this with the group, or if I’ll be a coward and won’t speak on what’d happened at all. I’ve already decided that I don’t see the point in bringing this up with anyone else. Everyone already sees how Malthe wants to lead, and complaining about his loyalty will do nothing but distract us from the urgency of reaching the northern islands for the safety of our islanders and those from Valdemar Helle. I grieve the losses of Steef and Lieve and Erla. Erla gave her life for the people she so desperately wanted to save. I must honor her memory by focusing on bringing them to safety. And then there’s the matter of the spy.

  “There’s a traitor on the island,” I tell him.

  He realizes this as well. He suspects everyone, me most of all. He doesn’t trust the connection I have with Sigourney Rose, or the fact that I’ve fought to keep her alive when it’s obvious to everyone on this island that she should be dead.

  “We’ll have to question everyone in the room,” I say.

  “Yourself included?”

  “Yes,” I say. “We need to root out the spy immediately, before they spread our plans to the Fjern.”

  He narrows his eyes. When there’s a shadow behind me, I’m surprised that someone’s managed to sneak past me.

  I stand in the hallway, on my way to the meeting room. I’m not sure why I’m standing alone. My head hums with fuzziness. Through a window of broken glass, I can see that light is already starting to turn the night sky gray. It feels like I’ve lost hours of my life—like there’s something I’ve forgotten, that I must remember, but even that thought is fading away. I continue to the meeting room. The others sit at the table, turning to look at me as I walk through the doors.

  “Where have you been, Løren?” Olina asks me. “We had to begin without you.”

  I shake my head, uncertain. I must be more exhausted than I’d realized. I apologize and sit at the table, and the interrupted pause is filled as the others discuss the new strain on our resources. We’re in a worse position than before, and Olina isn’t afraid to let this be known.

  Malthe is silent beside me. He doesn’t acknowledge the fact that he abandoned me on Valdemar Helle, and I don’t see the point in bringing this up with anyone else in the room. Everyone sees how Malthe wants to lead this rebellion over me, and complaining about his loyalty will do nothing but distract us from the urgency of reaching the northern islands for the safety of our islanders and those from Valdemar Helle. I grieve the losses of Steef and Lieve and Erla. Erla gave her life for the people she so desperately wanted to save. I must honor her memory by focusing on bringing them to safety. I think there’s something I must remember about Valdemar Helle—something that was equally important, if not more urgent—but there’s only a hole in my mind, filled with a black haziness.

  Marieke watches me closely as Olina speaks. She’s worried for me, though she doesn’t say the words aloud. She’s surprised by my appearance. We’d only been gone almost two days, but she thinks it looks like I’ve aged years. Maybe I’ve lost some of my naive innocence. I recognize that we’re in war, and I’ve also lost friends before at the hands of the Fjern—but the loss of Erla, Lieve, and Steef feels heavy in my chest. They’d all worked hard for the revolt. They’d sacrificed their lives, but they’ll never see freedom for themselves. Maybe I take the losses too heavily. Malthe doesn’t seem to care about their deaths. He acts as he always has with his cold and expressionless stare. Maybe there’s a reason for this. He rejects emotion so that it won’t pull energy from him.

  Geir’s mind has wandered as the discussion continues. He thinks about the next potential steps. Now that we have more islanders under our watch and protection, we have no choice but to go to the northern islands for help. But according to our recount of the battle, we left Fjern alive on Valdemar Helle. They will go back to their commander Lothar Niklasson and describe what’d happened. Lothar will be able to see that our hand is being forced. We’d gone to Valdemar Helle for aid and did not find it, so we’ll search Skov, Årud, Nørup, or Ludjivik Helle. Herre Niklasson will ready the seas with ships. Another battle could take place within days. We’ll need to travel with more guards than before for protection.

  Kjerstin has returned to the table as well. She finally managed to escape her nurse in the barracks. She walks more slowly and with a limp because of her fresh stitches, but she doesn’t want anyone to see that she’s in pain.

  Olina ignores everyone as she chastises me. It doesn’t matter that I’m the leader of our people. I’ve made a grave error in bringing the survivors of Valdemar Helle back to the royal island.

  “What will you do?” she asks me when she’s finished her lecture. “We can’t keep more people here. We’re already low on food and resources.”

  I agree with Geir’s thoughts. “We need to travel to the northern islands.” I remember Erla’s condemnation. Everyone on Hans Lollik Helle has been too preoccupied with the state of Hans Lollik Helle and the plans of attack. We should have put greater effort into contacting the northern islands from the beginning.

  “And if the islands are in the same state of need as Valdemar Helle?” Olina asks. “Will you bring the islanders here as well?”

  “If it’s necessary, yes.”

  “What we need is to send an ambassador to the northern empires,” Olina says. “If not me, then someone—anyone—to speak with the nobles. I’m close to convincing the Dame Nage Aris to help us—to send us supplies and guards—but she needs to see with her own eyes someone who has survived the violence and pain we have endured.”

  I understand her urgency, but I can’t continue to make plans of war a priority over our people. “I need to go north with the evacuated first. We can reconsider our position then.”

  Marieke speaks for the first time since I entered the room. “My concern is that the people are peaceful now, but they won’t remain so for much longer,” she says. “Though they’re glad to see you as their leader, Løren, there’s still frustration that we’re not doing enough to win this war. And with the additional mouths to feed, more bodies crammed into our shelters… The people will start to demand change.”

  I feel Malthe’s satisfaction. He believes the food on this island will last longer than I will as its leader.

  Geir agrees with Marieke. “It helps that we have named Løren our leader. It gives the people hope for change. But if they do not see that change, perhaps within days, they will turn on us quickly. Without unity, they will rebel against us, and we will lose Hans Lollik Helle without the help of the Fjern.”

  “What do you suggest?” I ask him.

  “Give them something that they want, even if it seems inconsequential.” He watches me steadily. His answer is clear. Give them Patrika Årud and Sigourney Rose.

  “It isn’t so inconsequential,” I say. “We’re not sure how their executions would affect the revolution yet.”

  “Their public executions would satisfy the anger and need for revenge of most on this island,” Geir says, “especially after the latest bloodshed and the loss of Valdemar Helle.”

  Malthe is pleased. This is something I’ve fought against, but everyone at the table, with the exception of Marieke, nods in agreement with Geir’s words. As the leader, if I disagree with them all, it could make each of them begin to distrust my judgment. Malthe hopes that I’ll make this mistake. The others would see the error of their ways and turn to him. And with a cruelty I’d never seen in him before, I realize that Malthe would find a way to punish me. I shouldn’t be as surprised as I am at Malthe’s change. We’ve all changed in some way since the war began. Or perhaps it isn’t change so much as coming closer to our true chara
cters. Facing both death and the possibility of freedom has revealed parts of our nature that maybe we hadn’t seen ourselves.

  Malthe has already planned his punishment for me. He would say that I’m dangerous to this uprising. A traitor. He would claim betrayal is in my blood, thanks to my father. To protect his own title and role, he would have me executed. Malthe hates those with power and those who want power for themselves, but he cannot and will not see his hypocrisies.

  Marieke seems to be trembling with the effort not to speak on Sigourney’s behalf. She looks at me, waiting for me to save the woman she can’t help but love as her own daughter, even as Marieke hates her for being her master. If we win and the kongelig are no more, as long as Sigourney lives, I believe she’ll always be Marieke’s master.

  “I want to speak with Sigourney Rose,” I say. “Then I’ll make my decision.”

  I leave the meeting room with much on my mind and anxiety rising in my chest, so I almost don’t see the shadow of someone standing outside of the meeting room like they’d been listening to our conversation within. I’m no longer in the hall but inside Sigourney Rose’s room. I don’t remember walking here, and I’m already beginning to forget that I don’t remember. Sigourney waits for me. It’s dusk. I can hear the echoes of prayer songs rising. There are longer shadows that seem to move in the corner of my eye like the spirits have come to her chamber to claim her. I’ve only been gone two days, but I feel again that I’ve changed. I’ve become older with the deaths of my allies. I can see Sigourney Rose clearly.

  Before, I’d wanted to save her because I wanted to show her mercy, and also because I felt for Marieke. I have hope that she can change, and believe her when she says she wants the chance to prove that she loves her people. But I also see how Geir and the others view this situation: If killing Sigourney will appease the islanders and grant us more time before we begin to disintegrate, then that is the only path we can take.