The Poison Within
Rachel Marie Pearcy
ISBN: 9781724180421
383 pages
Copyright © 2019 by Rachel Marie Pearcy
All rights reserved. Any part of this book may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission except for the use of brief quotations in reviews or articles.
Cover art and map created using free resources. Photoshop brush credit goes to Obsidian Dawn www.obsidiandawn.com. Cover art and map are copyright © 2018 by Rachel Marie Pearcy
To Cece
If this book is my baby than you’re definitely it’s cool, fun aunt.
Prologue
The carriage shuddered as it rolled over another fallen log. The old man inched forward on the driver’s bench, gripping the reins tighter in his hands while he ignored the sweat rolling down the back of his neck. It had been three days since the storm had swept in without warning, covering the kingdom in a blanket of dark clouds, and pelting the land with hard rain. In its wake the dirt roads were left soft while bushes blown free of their roots littered the open space, making the already delayed journey even more grueling.
Another dip rocked the coach side to side, and he winced. His back was arched in a permanent curve thanks to the years of driving, but it was the woman inside the coach, rather than his terrible posture, that caused him anguish. He could hear her grunts of displeasure as they rambled along, and after another sharp jolt her voice called out from behind the curtained window.
“Stop the carriage.”
Even at a high volume her tone was calm and even, but he had been in her service long enough to know better. His hands trembled as he obeyed the order, guiding the horses to a stop near the edge of the road. He dropped his eyes and focused an intense stare on the holes in his shoes. He could hear the swish of her dress as she exited the carriage, followed by the sound of soldiers riding up on all sides as they surrounded them. He didn’t have to look up to know how they felt; the tension radiated off them as they dismounted and stood waiting for their orders.
“Where’s the driver?” She asked a nearby guard. “What’s his name—Ronald? Bring him to me.”
Without warning a strong hand reached up and grabbed the old man by the pant leg, yanking him off his perch and down to the ground below. The impact knocked the air from his lungs, and he choked for a breath as he stood up.
“Ah yes, there he is,” she sang as she walked towards him. Determined to keep his head down, the old man tucked one arm behind his back and the other across his stomach, dipping into the lowest bow his crippled body could manage. He remained hunched over, shaking with the effort, until a thin finger slid under his chin, pushing his head up and forcing him to meet her eyes. An expression of worry that didn’t quite ring true played across her face as she spoke.
“Tell me Ronald, how long have you worked for the royal palace?”
“Your Majesty, I’ve served the Isles’ royalty for over forty years.”
“After so many years of service, would you say you’re an expert driver by now?”
He stammered, “Your Grace—”
“Since you have so much experience,” she interrupted, “I’m going to assume the reason I’m being tossed around my cabin is because of something other than your ability to steer these horses.”
“My apologies My Queen.” His heart beat hard against his ribs. “The rain has turned the dirt to mud, and avoiding the fallen branches has been difficult, Your Majesty.”
“I appreciate your attempt at returning me home,” she sighed. “But it won’t do me any good to arrive battered and bruised. Seeing as you have no control over the condition of our roadways I’ll have to find my own way to remedy the situation.”
Ronald swallowed the lump in his throat as she turned away from him, his muscles tight.
“Bring me the prisoner,” the queen called out.
Two guards approached, each holding an arm of the man they dragged between them. His thinning hair was pushed up on one side, and his left eye stuck out from his face in nasty shades of blue and black. A trail of dried blood trickled from the corner of his mouth down onto the front of his torn shirt. His gait was hindered by a limp, either caused by some recent abuse from the soldiers, or the shackles connecting his ankles and wrists together. As they reached the queen the guards tossed him down, leaving him on all fours at her feet.
“Your majesty?” The man sneered as he pushed himself to his knees.
The young queen stood over him, a sly smile playing on her crimson lips. “You understand you’re being taken to the work fields to pay for your crimes, but as I am a kind and generous ruler I’ve decided to offer you a different option. I’ll be sending you ahead of my carriage to clear the roadway of any object that might make my ride uncomfortable. If you do an adequate job, and we reach the outer wall without issue, then I’ll release you. You could be heading home by nightfall.”
The man frowned, his swollen eye squinting at her. “You think I’d trust you, after everything you’ve done? You invaded my home, taking from me anything you wished. The bit of theft I’m accused of could have been paid off with a few bits of gold, and yet you’ve sentenced me to years of manual labor. You’re wicked and a liar, and I refuse to do anything you ask of me.”
The last of his words spat from his mouth, and a bit of saliva flew past her cheek, missing her face by an inch. Still, the queen never flinched.
“That’s a shame,” she frowned. It was the only warning before a shower of embers shot from the tips of her fingers, and Ronald cringed as one landed on the sleeve of his coat. He swatted at the singeing fabric as she continued. “I was going to undo your chains while you worked but given your sudden outburst I’m afraid you’ll have to complete the task as you are.”
“I already told you,” the man snorted, “I won’t do it.”
“Refuse me again,” she sighed, her face relaxed and bored, “and I’ll have your wrists tied to the rear of my carriage, and I’ll drag your helpless body all the way back to my castle. Watching your broken bones bounce off each branch and rock we ride over will have to serve as distraction enough for the bumpiness of the ride.”
The man’s good eye burned with a mixture of hate and defeat as the soldiers picked him up off the ground and pushed him into the road. Ronald watched as he shuffled out in front of the horses, kicking aside rocks, and struggling to lift larger branches with his bound hands.
Around him the guards had relaxed. They seemed to assume the worst was over, and they began to mount their horses and line up against the road once more. Ronald turned to walk back towards his seat atop the carriage when a soft hand on his shoulder stopped him.
“We’ll give him a little bit of time to get ahead of us,” the queen smirked. She was next to the old man, watching the prisoner work in the mud. “Once I give the word and we start moving again, keep the same pace as before. I’d like to spend the night in my own bed.”
“Your Majesty,” he said, eyes widening. “If I do that, the horses will trample him within minutes.”
She stood silent, looking at him with her hard, cold eyes.
“What I mean Your Grace, is that without his work the ride will be as rough as before.”
“I’m willing to risk it,” she shrugged. “As I said, make sure you keep the pace.”
One
The dry leaves crunched under the young woman’s feet with each stride she took up the steep hill. The tree line was growing closer, and she could start to make out the etchings burned in the bark; the crude rendering of a shield with a wide slash through the middle. She pushed her legs harder, trying to fight against the weight of her boots which grew heavier with every second that
passed. The bottom of her once elegant gown was now tattered and torn, and a thick strip of mud caked the edging. The young autumn sun washed over her bare shoulders, but it did nothing to chase away the chill cutting to her core.
“You think a few scratches on a tree will stop me?” The man laughed somewhere behind her, but she refused to turn. Her body screamed with exhaustion, and the throbbing in her shattered wrist had spread into her arm. She held it tight against her chest, trying to shield it from the jarring motion of the chase.
The slope began to even out, and as the sun dimmed behind the canopy of yellowing leaves, Rya’s heart soared. She spun around, expecting to find the man’s expression hard with anger, but instead he was sauntering towards her with a wide grin.
The running had knocked back the hood of his cloak, revealing the gaunt young man underneath. Dark bags hung under his black eyes, sinking them further into his face. She could see the thick white scars running down his brown skin, starting behind each ear and disappearing under his collar. She recognized them immediately and knowing who he belonged to only increased her heartrate.
“You can’t touch me here,” she said, backing away from him. “I’ve reached the border.”
He moved around her like a cat stalking its prey, each step deliberate and calculated, closing the space between them.
“I didn’t kill him,” she continued. The palm of her left-hand tingled as the emotions swelled within her, and the burn grew around the broken bones in her right.
“That should matter to me?” He asked in a playful tone.
“Of course,” she replied, still stepping backwards. “It’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You’re one of the Kael.”
The man’s laugh was sharp and loud. “That I am. I’ve been hired to cut your still beating heart from your chest, and return it to your kingdom. To be honest, I’m only interested in the reward, not the reason.”
She grew dizzy as she watched him move from side to side, pushing her further into the cover of the trees. “Your name’s Nix, isn’t it?” She asked. “I heard Father Kasen call you that. Nix, I can offer you more gold, or even land. Whatever he’s paying you, I promise I can give you more.”
His smile faded. She could see the fire burning in his pupils, the yearning to hurt her, and she regretted calling him by name.
“I don’t want your money,” he sneered. “I want your blood.”
“But I’m innocent.”
“You may not have killed King Gerrod, but to the people who sent me, you’ve done enough to deserve the pain you’ve got coming to you.”
“They’re all fools,” she shouted in response. Her one good hand balled into a fist, the fire from her fingertips burning into the flesh on her palm. It was the type of hurt she’d experienced a hundred times before, but the feeling in her broken arm was new and unpleasant. The pain churned with her anger, scorching her from the inside out.
The mixture of rage and agony had distracted her, and she hadn’t noticed how close he’d gotten. He pulled the two long daggers from the sheaths on his thighs; the bone white handles flashed in the streaks of sun as he spun them in his palms with ease.
Turning on her heels, Rya took off into the woods, darting between the trees. The trunks gave her brief cover, but she knew it wouldn’t last. Her body was too worn, and this was what he’d spent his life training for. In desperation, she zipped from right to left, and back again, hoping the obstacles would allow her to gain some ground. When she could no longer hear his footsteps, she felt a brief glimmer of hope, but the burst was short lived as the ground disappeared from under her with a sudden jolt.
The ditch caught her off guard, and before she could brace herself, Rya fell face first to the forest floor below. She landed with a thud on her already mangled wrist and let out a shrill howl as the searing pain burst in all directions. The blow stunned her body, and she laid on her stomach, frozen and unable to move. Something warm and wet ran down her forehead and she tasted the metallic sting of blood in her mouth. After recovering from the shock, her panic took control and she flipped onto her back. She scrambled to push herself up the soft side of the ditch, but the loose dirt crumbled under her feet and she slipped back to the bottom.
“Your power as queen has ended,” Nix said, now standing over the trench looking down at her. “And now, so will your life.”
Rya braced herself for the blow. She bit down on her lower lip, not wanting to cry out, refusing to give him the satisfaction of her fear and pain. He lifted his foot, ready to move in, when his body rocked backwards with a grunt. A single arrow shaft protruded from his shoulder, the pointed end erupting from the back side. The black of his cloak masked the blood she knew was spreading across the fabric, but when he reached up to snap the wood in two, his hands came away stained bright red. He threw the feathered end to the ground, and took a slow, deep breath. His eyes locked with hers, and without flinching he pushed the end of the broken shaft further into his flesh, his index finger sinking into the open wound. The wet sound sickened Rya as the wood slid out the other side and fell from his body. The metal tip bounced off the leaves on the ground below, and he smiled.
“You take one more step towards her,” a girl’s stern voice said, “and I’ll put the next one through your eye.”
The shuffle of footsteps came from somewhere behind Rya, but from the bottom of the ditch she could only see Nix, and the new hint of worry playing across his face.
“I wouldn’t risk it,” a young man added, making the assassin’s lip twitch. “Don’t think the first one was an accident; it was a warning.”
“This woman is a criminal,” Nix responded, his words sounding reasonable and measured now. “I’m in charge of taking her home to face her judgment. Give me two minutes and we’ll be on our way.”
“This woman,” the girl answered, “is in the Ashen Forest, and is now under our protection. Those trees you ran past mark the boundary. Even the Kael knows the laws we keep, though most are smart enough to stay away.”
Rya’s heart skipped a beat as Nix begrudgingly returned his blades to their homes and held up his open hands to her mystery saviors.
“You may have her now,” he said with a sick smile, “but I’ll get her in the end. Even the Ashen know the Kael don’t leave a job unfinished, though most are smart enough to stay out of our way.”
Rya watched with relief as he backed away a few feet, and then turned and disappeared the way they’d come. She fell back against the cool dirt of the ditch and shivered. The danger had passed, and the thudding in her chest had slowed, allowing the exhaustion to take over. Her head swam and the trees started to sway in her vision. The pain once throbbing in her arm now pulsated in every inch of her, keeping with the beat of her heart. She could hear the small group of people moving around her, but as the dark corners of her sight started closing in, she couldn’t make out their faces. The world began to fade away, and for a moment she could have sworn her body was floating.
Two
Cam’s hand was wrapped tight around her bow as she watched Thane double check the ropes. He had placed the queen’s broken body on the long, brown and red stained slab of wood. The sled usually transported large game from the hunt back to the castle, but today it would be serving another purpose. Cam sighed, thankful the unconscious monarch couldn’t smell the blood that had saturated the grain over the years.
Thane stood up to examine his work. “She doesn’t look so regal right now, does she?”
Cam knelt down next to the sled and reached out a hand, brushing the dark brown hair from the queen’s face. Without looking up at him she asked, “Do you think the rest of them know it’s her?”
He glanced around at the half dozen others, each scanning the surrounding woods, keeping guard in case the assassin chose to return. Only one of them wasn’t watching the trees, instead eyeing the newcomer with caution.
“If they don’t know now, they will eventually. There’s no way to hide something like this.”
Thane finished securing the sled, while the squat man continued to glare in their direction. Finally, he spoke, nodding towards the queen’s body with a scowl, “Are we really taking her with us?”
“Why wouldn’t we Ruben?” Cam replied, standing up. The rest of the hunting party all shifted, trying to keep one eye on the woods while they watched the confrontation, but the man had begun shrinking away, already regretting his choice.
His brow pinched together as he chose his next words with caution. “Your Highness, she’s the Black Queen. That name comes with a whole lot of trouble. I’m not sure us bringing her to the castle is the best choice for the kingdom.”
“Alright, since you seem to know more than I do, what would you do with her? What do you think is best for the kingdom?”
“The law dictates we protect her. The Kael man has left and the danger is gone. I say we leave her here. We’ve done our duty, and she’s alive. No one would think less of us for the decision.”
Cam felt the blood rush to her face. “You believe we should abandon her here, unconscious and alone in the forest? Is that really your idea of protection Ruben? Because if it is, I may have to reconsider having you in my company.”
“No, of course not Your Highness.” His face glowed red. “I only thought maybe there’s another option besides taking her straight to the castle.”
“She’s royalty, and she’s injured. We will take her with us,” she replied. “I’m not going to throw away the entire history of our people because you’re scared of one woman.”
“I’m not scared,” he grimaced. “I was merely trying to be cautious. But you’re right; we will of course follow your orders Your Highness.”
The hunting party all mounted their horses and began the slow walk west towards home. As they all fell into line, two by two, Thane rode next to Cam in the middle, his own mare pulling the queen’s sled. They had both noticed Ruben had lagged behind, taking a spot in the far back of the group as he continued to pout.
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