by K. C. May
Cirang approached leading Gavin’s dappled, gray gelding, Golam, and Daia’s mare, Calie. A stable hand followed with a white mare, previously owned by the couple Cirang had murdered outside Ambryce. Cirang stood by, head bowed, waiting for Gavin’s next order. Though she dressed in Vandra’s chain armor, the blue ribbons in the sleeve had been replaced with black so that no one would mistake her for a First Royal Guard. Gavin wanted her alive for the time being, which was why he didn’t let her carry a weapon. She wouldn’t attack him, but she might try to kill herself to escape her punishment.
“Do you have something to say to the lordover before we leave?” he asked.
Cirang looked up, confusion wrinkling her brow. “My liege?”
“You left his city a horrible mess. He deserves an apology.”
“Yes, my liege. He does.” She looked briefly at the Lordover Ambryce before lowering her eyes again. “My lord, I’ve done terrible things, but few as awful as what I did to the queen and to your citizens. I don’t expect or deserve forgiveness. Please know how truly sorry I am. If it’s in my power to reverse the damage and right these people’s lives, I’ll spend every last minute of my life working to that end.”
He and Daia shook hands with the lordover and his captain and a few guards who weren’t too embarrassed to express their excitement over meeting the king. He used his magic to mask himself and Daia as an elderly couple in tattered robes. He made Cirang look like a half-bald woman with broken and rotted teeth, facial boils, and hands blackened from flesh rot. He also put a disguise on the horses, fearing that Golam might be recognized as well. With that, they set out towards the Well of the Damned to repair the leak and, hopefully, prevent any more people from suffering Feanna’s fate.
Chapter 2
“And then I speared it in the head with my sword,” nine-year-old Iriel said, thrusting with one arm as if she had a weapon in hand. “It burst open, and worms came out. Hundreds of them. They tried to eat my toes, but I squashed them like this.” She stomped her feet, but the sound was dampened by the plush rug.
“That’s quite a dream,” said Edan Dawnpiper. “Were you frightened?” When Gavin and Feanna had first left on their respective journeys, he’d been apprehensive about mealtime and bedtime with their nephews and adopted children. Gavin’s sister-in-law, Liera, was an experienced parent, but he couldn’t leave her to manage seven children on her own. Getting them to the table, the classroom, the bathtub, and bed was easy. It was what to do in the meantime.
He’d never spent much time around children and didn’t know what to say to them. What did children talk about? He quickly found that to be the least of his concerns. Iriel had a vivid imagination and enjoyed the attention. Once Tansa saw how attentive Edan was to Iriel’s stories, she began to chatter as if she were competing for a medal in who could tell a story using the most words per minute. Trevick was his usual quiet self, which didn’t bother Edan because Trevick was quiet when Feanna and Gavin were home too. Jilly had started coming out of her cocoon when she slowly realized that the beyonders really were gone forever. Her sweetness and utter adoration of Gavin was touching. He wouldn’t have said so aloud, but Jilly was his favorite of Gavin’s children.
“Sit back down, sweetheart,” Liera said. “Finish your egg.”
“At first I was, but then I remembered I was a Viragon Sister,” Iriel replied, sliding back into her seat.
“There aren’t any Viragon Sisters anymore,” GJ reminded her.
“Except me. I took a vow to uphold law and honor. Only King Gavin can release me from it.”
Galiveth of the First Royal Guard entered the dining hall and approached. The room fell silent. “Forgive my interruption, but there’s a visitor requesting an audience with the king.”
At that, Edan stood, his heart filling with dread. He knew this day would come. He’d only hoped it would be while Gavin was home and after they’d had time to build an army and have weapons and armor made for them all. “I beg your pardon, Miss Liera, children. I’ll see you again for dinner.” Edan led the way out of the room. “Is the visitor a foreigner?”
“Yes, my lord,” Galiveth said. “He claims to come from Cyprindia with a message for the king and queen.” Her mail jingled with every step, echoing against the polished marble floor and high, wooden walls.
“Have you told him they’re out of town?”
“No, we weren’t sure that was wise. Lord Jophet’s waiting in your office.”
He’d told Jophet, Supreme Councilor of the Militia, what he knew of the war with Cyprindia, but Jophet had already read every text he found on the subject. Like Gavin’s, his reading skill was underdeveloped, but his dedication to the position was incomparable. Though Gavin thought he was being overly concerned, Edan believed caution and vigilance were warranted, at least until Gavin could reach out as king and offer a peace treaty between the two nations. The beyonders had kept their old enemy from their shores for two hundred years, but the beyonders were gone. It was unlikely that Cyprindia had simply forgotten about the unsettled score.
He entered his office and found Jophet pacing, hands behind his back. He’d shaved the graying beard he’d worn as the Lordover Tern’s Captain of the Guard, making him look a good bit younger than his forty-seven years, despite the gray hair at his temples and the wrinkles beside his eyes. His brow was drawn and his lips pressed tightly together when he looked up. “Ah, Lord Edan, good morning. I’m sorry to have interrupted your meal. I thought this a matter we should confer upon.”
“Yes, I agree. Thank you. Have you spoken to the visitor? Has he come with forces?”
“He has only a single guard with him, though they have a ship docked off the coast of Delam, no doubt filled with warriors. I’ve sent several First Royals out to search Tern for any others who may be waiting, but nobody reports seeing more than those two.”
“What message?” Edan asked.
“He says it’s for the king and queen only, and he won’t leave until he’s delivered it.”
Edan nodded. “Let’s go talk to him, shall we? I want to see this man for myself.”
“Absolutely. He’s in the receiving room.”
Edan and Jophet walked together in silence through the palace to the receiving room near the front entrance. Four guards stood in the hallway, two flanking the door and two across the corridor, facing it. Four more guards stood inside the room, hands on weapons and ready to draw.
Two men stood in the corner farthest from the door, both unusually tall and with wavy, dark-brown hair, olive skin, and brown eyes. There, their similarities ended. One was shirtless but for a small, metal breastplate covering his heart. His upper chest was tattooed with thick, black lines and swirls, forming a yoke. A similar band was tattooed around both upper arms. His body was chiseled with thick muscle, but his skin was unscarred—as near as Edan could tell—which was perplexing, given that his armor plate was so small. He wore what looked like a short, leather skirt and knee-high, brown boots that laced up the front. In his right hand, he clutched a glaive, whose blade point reached almost to the ceiling.
The man made Edan uneasy. It wasn’t only his obvious strength or the glint of steel at his command. He had a fierceness about him and something else Edan couldn’t quite identify, a foreignness that went beyond merely speaking another language or having been born in a different land and culture. Edan felt better knowing he had four battlers at his back and Jophet beside him.
The other man, adorned with a gold ring in his lower lip, was dressed in a long coat of golden yellow fabric that was richly embellished with red and brown embroidery and colorful accents that sparkled, like glass or gems. The coat was buttoned closed to the hip except at the keyhole-shaped neck opening. Beneath the coat was a brilliant red shirt with many folds and tucks, and a medallion pinned at his throat. Though his manner of dress was foreign, he looked sharp, as if he’d taken care with his choice of attire. This was the man who bowed on Edan’s and Jophet’s entrance.
/> “Good day,” Edan said with a polite bow. “Welcome to Thendylath. I’m Edan Dawnpiper, Supreme Councilor of State and adviser to King Gavin. I believe you’ve already met Jophet Renoun.”
“We are pleased to make your acquaintance,” the man said. Though he spoke with an accent, he enunciated clearly. “I am Kaoque Ewhirk, Twelfth Emissary to Lord Ruler Cicoque of Cyprindia, and this is my protector, Tokpah Woksu, Warrior Chief of the Eighteenth Battalion of the Cyprindian Force. We have come peaceably with a message for your king and queen.”
Edan’s first impression was that Kaoque was amiable, polite, and intelligent. Considering the longstanding hostility between their two countries, he thought it better to keep his distance to put his guests at ease. “Ah, yes, I’m afraid they’re unavailable.”
“Jophet Renoun has told us. If we could know when the king and queen will be available?”
“I’m unable to say at this time. However, if you tell us where you’re staying, we will send word when they become available.”
Kaoque cocked his head. “We are staying here.” He spread his arms wide to indicate the receiving room.
Edan smiled politely. “I’m afraid I haven’t made myself clear. The king and queen won’t be available today.”
“Yes, we understand. Tomorrow or the day after?”
“That isn’t likely, I’m afraid.”
“We cannot return to Cyprindia until the message is delivered. Will you tell us what date to come back?”
“One moment, if you please.” Edan signaled to Jophet to step into the hall with him. Outside the visitors’ earshot, he said, “I’m not comfortable letting them wander about Thendylath unescorted. What do you think about giving them lodging here? Can your battlers handle that?”
Jophet nodded. “If we send them to an inn, we can’t keep an eye on them without drawing attention to ourselves. There’re only two of them. We can manage.”
They returned to their guests. “Please be our guests here at the palace,” Edan said. He didn’t want to tell Thendylath’s enemy that the king and queen were out of town and unable to respond to a threat, but he saw no way around it. “King Gavin and Queen Feanna are away, but they’re making their return at this very moment. I’ll send the porter to assist you to your rooms.”
Kaoque and Tokpah shared a few words in their own language. “We do not wish to burden you. We will stay at an inn and return every day to inquire as to the king’s availability.”
Edan smiled a polite warning. “No, I insist. You’ll be much more comfortable here, and we’ll have a chance to get to know one another.”
Kaoque bowed deeply. “Your generosity is appreciated.”
Chapter 3
“Relieved to be on the road again?” Daia asked. She sat beside him in front of the cook fire they’d built when they’d stopped to camp for the night.
Gavin nodded, mentally shaking off his cloak of melancholy. Traveling had become a way of life for him before his ascension to the throne, and he was glad for Daia’s companionship. She’d become more than his champion in the last few months. She’d become his closest friend.
“You’re turning gray,” she said. “Must be the stress.”
He ran a hand reflexively though his hair. At twenty-seven years old, he shouldn’t have gray at his temples or deepening lines at the corners of his eyes, but the mirror didn’t lie. “Maybe I’ll store a spell in one o’these gems to keep up a youthful disguise.” He picked up his sword and examined it in the firelight. The hilt, fashioned like two intertwined snakes, had gems for eyes, gems he’d earned by deciphering the King’s Runes that spring.
“No, don’t. It looks good on you, gives you an air of distinction.” A few moments of silence passed. “May I ask you a personal question?” she asked in a voice low enough that Cirang, trying to fend off Golam’s ear-nibbling advances while tending to his hooves, wouldn’t hear.
“You can ask,” Gavin said. He crammed the last bite of bread into his mouth and softened it with a swig of water.
“I’ve only known you a few months, but you’ve never struck me as a man who would tolerate people treating you the way Feanna does. Why do you let her berate you publicly?”
He brushed the crumbs off his hands. Why indeed? He’d never have put up with that behavior from anyone else, but he’d given Feanna free rein to thrash him verbally, blaming her moods on her pregnancy.
“Don’t answer the question if you don’t care to, but remember, I grew up in a noble house. In Edan’s absence, perhaps I can offer you some advice.”
He gazed into the fire. Though he was sensitive when it came to matters pertaining to his wife, he was curious about Daia’s perspective. As a woman, maybe she saw things differently than he or Edan did. “What advice would that be?”
“How a noble couple behaves, and how the people expect them to behave. My parents disagreed more often than they agreed, especially where I was concerned. They argued in private, but in public, they always appeared united. What that meant, of course, was that my mother put on a face for the people, feigning support, while my father went about his business as usual. Feanna doesn’t seem to mind chastising you or disagreeing with you in front of other people. I wondered why you don’t put a stop to it.”
He could think of only one answer. “She’s the queen. She has that right, I guess.”
“She’s queen consort, and no, she doesn’t have that right.”
“Queen what?”
“Consort. She’s only queen by marriage. You’re the king whether you’re married to her or not. You have the right to insist she defer to you in the company of others. In fact, for the sake of the people, you must.”
At that moment, Gavin realized he’d never truly felt like the king. Yes, he’d taken the oath, lived in the palace, wore the clothes, and made the decisions, but he’d continually questioned himself, wondering how a king would behave, what a king would do. And yet he’d fully accepted Feanna as the queen. She’d had a more distinguished air, a delicate, and queenly visage, and Gavin would always look like, sound like, and feel like a warrant knight, a ’ranter. A peasant.
“Their perception of you determines their confidence in your leadership,” Daia continued. “In your private chambers, how the two of you interact is your own business. People used to wonder why my mother endured my father’s unpleasantness. She didn’t, not truly. They just didn’t see that side of her. Perhaps Feanna needs an adviser as well to caution her to rein in her feelings and save the outbursts for when you two are alone.”
He felt his face warming with embarrassment. Edan had once tried to tell him to take a firmer stand with his wife in the presence of non-family members, but Gavin hadn’t seen the larger issue and had responded defensively. “It’s too late for that,” he said, shaking his head. “She’s kho-bent now, and she doesn’t give a damn how a proper queen should behave in public.”
“True, but perhaps after... after we fix this. Once she returns to her former self.”
He looked at her squarely, surprised she didn’t understand the gravity of the situation. Feanna would never be that woman again. She was forever changed, as if she’d died and someone else had moved into her body. He shook his head. “She won’t. Not ever.”
They unrolled their bedrolls and lay down to sleep with those words hanging in the air. Though he’d told the lordover he wouldn’t rest until he found a cure for the affliction the wellspring water caused, he was far from confident of success. He had no idea where to begin, and so all he could do was to prevent more people from getting corrupted.
Gaol cells spilled over with snarling, vicious beyonders shaped like humans. They escaped into the streets of Ambryce, tipping over carts and setting fire to homes and stabbing citizens trying to protect their families. He watched helplessly, unable to move. People yelled at him to do something, and they all became Feanna, holding his screaming infant son. She looked like Talisha. A red stain appeared on the front of her dress and spread, and then b
lood streamed across their son’s skin. “Change me,” she cried, “before it’s too late.”
“No!” Gavin jerked awake, clutching at his chest. His heart hammered within him, and sweat stuck his shirt to his skin.
“What’s wrong?” Daia asked, sitting up.
He waved her back down. “Bad dream. Go back to sleep.”
She pulled on her boots instead. “It’s almost sunrise. We might as well get started.” After climbing to her feet, she put one foot on Cirang’s hip and rocked her back and forth. Gavin cringed sympathetically, certain Daia was hurting her. He’d seen the scars from Ritol’s claws on Cirang’s hip and, judging from her limp, the damage was permanent.
Cirang awoke with a start and pushed Daia’s foot off. “Ouch! What did you do that for?”
“Get up. It’s time to go.”
“I would appreciate it if you found a different way to awaken me.” Cirang ran a hand over her unevenly chopped hair, brushing away the dried sprigs of bur grass.
Daia snorted. “Perhaps you’d prefer I stroke your face lovingly as I sing you awake?”
“You could wake me up like that,” Gavin said. He tried to smile, but his melancholy turned it into a grimace.
After a few hours’ ride, they reached the waterfall where the Flint River started. The gray and brown mountain rose up before them like a wild stallion rearing defiantly. A short distance to the north where the landslide had caused the leak in the wellspring, they dismounted and tied their horses’ reins to a tree. While Gavin would have liked to let Golam wander around to nibble the forest undergrowth, the horse had a tendency to get lost. Gavin turned his attention to the mountain, searching for the water that Cirang claimed was leaking from the Well of the Damned.