Two Queens (Seven Heavens Book 1)

by Holden, Ryan

  He threw down the brush and stepped back. Kerry looked at him and hopped forward, nose sniffing at the bonds. “It's okay, girl, they won't hurt you.” But his heart broke. He'd never seen a kardja chained before.

  He led her to the fire. “Time for her to be free.” He took a key from Theo before he was able to react and unlocked her feet, immediately snapping the braces back on his own wrists. He held the key out to the enraged men.

  Simon froze, then slowly took the key. His wide eyes followed the boy back to the wagon. He looked from him to the kardja and back again. Kerry, not minding it in the least, had started grazing after a few frolics with her freed legs.

  “She's brown,” his open mouth finally found something to close with.

  “First brush, then wash. Let me know when we get to the next stream.” He sat down on the grass, cuffed hands behind his neck, and watched the sky redden. He sighed.

  His father stood, arms behind his back, a dozen merchants standing around them. Devlin paused, deep in thought, then whistled. The merchants' laughed around him. “Is that a prayer?” one asked. “He's calling for his witch wife,” another said. They didn't see Myra take a few lazy steps until she had her nose buried in his hands.

  The merchants quieted down. Devlin raised his hands and gestured for the money. “It's a fair bet. No knife, no rock, no twisting out of it. Only my teeth,” and he strokes the tall white kardja's chin.

  He had told Orion later. “You know why it works?”

  “Because Myra's so smart.”

  “Well, that too. But the merchants don't expect it. Why would herders practice a clown's tricks? Hard labor consumes us from dawn to dusk. Why would I train a kardja? Do the unexpected and they don't know how to act.”

  His eyes flicked to the fireside. Was his father right? He wished he were here.

  Sixteen

  “You asked for a stream?” Simon called out as he rode back past the wagon.

  Orion looked up, wondering how to reply. Soon all he saw was Simon's back. He looked forward, not seeing much in front of the press of bodies and wagon. A few more minutes walk, however, changed the view.

  The wagon was drawn up on a low hill. Out in front a plain stretched out, fading into the horizon. It was not much different than what Orion had seen since the desert. But his eyes were not looking at it.

  Right in front of them, assaulting his ears while it grabbed his eyes, a rush of waters intoxicated him. It was far larger than any stream he had seen: broader than a pool, it flowed like liquid thunder. His eyes bounced along the wavelets glimmering in the morning sun. “A river,” he breathed.

  Fear and wonder washed over him. He imagined himself breaking his chains like a corn cob and running, racing, flying to the water. Two steps, three steps, a running leap and then splash! Into its blue madness. Sinking, floating, motionlessly moving with the current.

  But no. He was still chained. And fearful. Coldness, loss of breath. Monstrous fish and water snakes hiding in the murky depths.

  The rattle of chains surprised him. He looked up. Theo was unlocking not his but those of the man next to him. Aeneas stood by, his most unforgivable face speaking volumes. The man stood calmly by, not trying anything.

  They led him to the water and he shook. Aeneas moved in, grabbing his other side. The men at the wagon started wailing and thrashing about. Orion was thrown to his feet. The horses shied away, pulling the wagon forward. The men got louder, trying to stop as the horses plunged toward the river.

  The man fought against his two captors. Simon rode to help, shoving the man forward. They started fording the river amid his resistance. A few steps in the current caught them and the man started sinking. Shouting joined the splashing.

  The men at the wagon quieted down. A restless quiet. Every eye was on the three in the river. Orion looked about, wondering where Kerry was. He saw the girl holding the horses at the wagon. He couldn't see Kerry.

  The men gasped as if sharing one breath. Orion looked back to the river: he could see two heads, neither red haired. Simon made a third catching up with them. A long moment later the missing head reappeared. The men breathed again, and agonized murmuring started.

  Theo chained the man to a tree on the other side. He spoke with the other two then they called for the girl. A rope was set up, tied from the wagon to a tree on the far side. They tried the next man but the rope proved of little help. They then let the wagon end loose, binding the men to its end and launching them into the current. After the first two the rest caught on, rushing into the river and floating, the rope and the current working to cross them.

  Aeneas refused to cross again so Theo kept on swimming the rope back. When the last man crossed he just lay there on the bank, a quivering wet heap.

  The wagon was stuck in the mud. Simon unhitched the horses then tied them to the rear. He got no help from Theo. He had chained Orion to Desdemona, a fact neither of them appreciated.

  Orion whistled for Kerry, leaving Simon to his struggles and Theo still half unconscious. She came loping down to him from where she'd been grazing on the hillside.

  He started talking to her and petting her with his free hand. Desdemona watched him then started with her off hand. It irked him. Soon, however, he found himself telling her about Kerry, or rather about kardja. Nothing personal, just about size and weights of male and female, old and young kardja. Well, he couldn't help but point out the signs of the pregnancy.

  After a while he didn't mind her so much. Her face didn't seem as gruesome as his memory told him. But her hair still disturbed him. The only other he knew with hair so black was his mother. A river to a bird's nest.

  He heard a yell. Looking toward the river he saw the wagon and Simon on the far side. They were waving them over.

  A mad thought dashed into his head. “Escape with me.”

  She looked at him like he'd gone crazy.

  “The river will slow them down. Kerry can bear us both. Flee to the forest. Hide.”

  She pushed away from him. “Leave the wagon? Without food? Alone?”

  “I can find food. We'll make it.” He churned at saying we. If only he was chained to Kerry instead of her!

  “I can't. I belong with Simon.”

  “But he beats you! You said it yourself.”

  She looked down, ashamed. “What else is there? My bruises heal. He feeds me. He doesn't touch me.”

  Orion looked at her. Such a fear had never entered his mind. He flashed back to the horror on Enda's face at the lawless Anatolian lords and Kerdae's cold anger. Pity broke upon his heart. But how could she prefer this? “ I'll protect you. There's food everywhere in the forest.”

  Except in winter. And the trees here were different.

  Her eyes flashed fear. He'd seen that look before. He was thirteen, on his first long trip with his father. Hunters.

  He stumbled upon a doe and fawn through no skill of his own. He couldn't raise his bow. He looked at the doe and she looked back. Then the instant passed and she was gone, with a flash of her white tail.

  He knew his response was the same. He couldn't force her. He felt ashamed of himself. Why not force her? Take her to a better place? He was sure this, this—his eyes took in Simon on his horse fording back across the river—was where he was stuck.

  Again.

  He looked at her and nodded. Great breaths racked his lungs, sobs in disguise. He petted Kerry and looked at her intelligent eyes. If only she were as brave as you, he thought.

  Simon joined them.

  They crossed the river and Orion was chained to the wagon once more. He had no joy in seeing the whiteness of Kerry's coat. He stared glumly at his hands, fingers running over the metal holding him fast.

  He thought of his mother again. The girl's dark hair did that sometimes, especially when in his periphery. He thought of the curse she rarely spoke of. He wondered if that was what it was like for his father: seeing freedom just a moment away but his mother's bonds holding him back. Until death came a
nd ended it.

  He looked up at the noise of the wagon moving forward. Rising to his feet he walked along. He watched Simon riding. Hatred for him coursed through his veins. He was not a merchant. He was a prison-maker. The girl could not choose freedom over his roughshod treatment. The red beards had no spirit left at all. Come to think of it, Theo and Aeneas lived in fear of him too.

  The iron bracelets holding him were smooth and, in a way, artistic in their fashioning. Yet his heart was free. He find it hard to pity the red men with their strange ways. But he felt sorry for the girl.

  The next day Orion waited to be let loose but Theo never came by. His hatred for Simon fed his courage until noon where he yelled at them.

  “We had a deal.”

  “Shut up,” Theo said.

  “I'm not done yet.”

  Simon arrived. “No more escape plans. The kardja is ready. The deal is off.”

  Orion's stomach felt full of cold rocks. Come on. “I guess I was wrong.”

  “You were.” Simon grinned. The evil in the grin almost made Orion quit.

  He pressed on. “I thought you weren't a fool.”

  Simon hit him.

  He fell to the ground, then stood up. “Theo, do you know anything of history?”

  “Yes. Why, are you educated? Do you,” he could not hide his excitement, “know how to read?”

  “Yes,” Orion answered, though “barely” was closer to the truth. “Have you read of Liam the Anatolian king?”

  Simon was about to hit both of them but was too distracted by the turn of the conversation. Theo shook his head. “No, but I've heard of him.”

  “Then tell Simon, if he has ears, that he almost made the mistake of trying to sell the direct descendant of his mount as an overgrown sheep.”

  He did not tell them that by this many generations later it was hard to find a decent kardja that was not descended from Liam's own.

  Theo jumped, bliss all over his face. Simon pulled back his arm to hit Orion again then paused.

  “You lose at your own game. Now I know.” He laughed.

  “Good for you.” Orion smiled.

  Simon's laugh staggered and halted. He smiled and punched Orion in the jaw. “Good for me.” He stomped away.

  Theo remained. “Is it really true?”

  “Is what true?”

  “That the animal of the white cloud that dances about us is the descendant of Liam's own?”

  “Yes.” A descendant, but whatever.

  Theo's eyes widened, then turned to drink in the kardja. Kerry belched as she ate. Dancing would come later.

  Orion rubbed his sore jaw.

  Theo whirled on him. “What's her name? Can you recite her lineage? How old is she? Has she been in battle?”

  Orion looked at him. Maybe the plan wasn't so wild after all. “Unchain me and I'll answer.”

  Fear clouded his eyes. “I can't do that.”

  “He made a deal with me. So long as I or Kerry—that's her name —cannot escape he doesn't care how free the other is. Besides, I should brush her again.”

  He hesitated.

  “Do you want to pet her?” he offered.

  His excitement built and wrestled with his nervousness. “I guess if Simon said so.”

  “Go get the key.”

  “Right here, safely hidden in my pocket.” He drew out the key and was about to unlock then stopped. “I'll lock you to me. That way I can pet her as much as I want.”

  The two of them walked over to Kerry, chewing her cud. Orion whistled, but softly. She looked over at them approaching and slowly got up. Orion started petting her. Theo was too shocked at being so close: he just stared at the eye that Kerry had fixed on him.

  Orion didn't help Theo. The less Kerry and Theo liked each other the better. Though he couldn't see Theo being much of a risk beside Simon. He was about to ask for the brush when he thought of something else.

  “How far are we from Avallonë?”

  “Two days. Why?” Theo still stared at Kerry's head a full arm's length above his own.

  Orion sucked in his breath. That wasn't enough time. “And that is where we stop?”

  “Well, we turn around and head back south again soon enough, except-” his voice fell silent.

  “Yes. I know.” He looked at Kerry again. “Let's go get the brush.”

  On the way to the wagon he saw Desdemona putting a salve on one of the red beard's arms. The one who had tripped, jamming his hand between axle and wagon, and put Simon in a bad mood this morning.

  “Desdemona, I need your help.”

  “This is my work.” She didn't look up from her work.

  “Kerry needs your attention. Please come, before it's too late.”

  “Fine.”

  A little later she joined them. Kerry had been brushed and was looking better than before, though the initial surprise of dirty to clean was gone.

  “Come on, you said you'd tell me about her.”

  His mind had too much to think about to be distracted. He irritably lashed back. “Quiet. Besides, this way you'll see who she is. Words can come later.”

  Theo stiffened.

  Orion turned to Desdemona. “Now for my promise.” He put his hands on Kerry's shoulders and pressed, talking low. She knelt, forelegs first. He led the girl to her side and steadied her as she mounted. “Easy, Kerry.” Kerry went back to chewing her cud.

  Theo's mouth dropped open.

  “Hands here and here.” He patted Kerry's rump. “Up girl.” She stood up. Desdemona rocked back and forth.

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, face ashen.

  “You don't have reins so I'll steer. Trust Kerry, she's never dropped me. Just sit like you would on a horse. Not so tight with the hands, you're not going anywhere. Just in a big circle.” He led Kerry by the halter. Was riding a horse similar? He wanted to try someday. Was that an act of treason? He thought it had been so once.

  This was annoying. For Kerry as much as him. One arm lugging Theo the other way up in the air on the halter. No freedom for her head, no easy seat on the four feet going at a kardja pace, not the stilted shuffle of a burdened human.

  He let go and turned to watch. Kerry took another step or two then stopped, eyeing her rider. The girl had relaxed a little bit but was still very tense. Kerry was taking it well.

  “Talk to her. Tell her you're there.”

  “What do I say?”

  He thought fast. “What do you tell your patients?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Think of something.”

  “Why?”

  “I don't know, tradition. And she's not your servant. She's a friend. If she doesn't want to take you somewhere, she won't.”

  He paused. “Squeeze with your knees.”

  “I am.”

  “I mean relax then squeeze again.”

  Kerry jumped and took a few steps forward. The girl screamed. Kerry started running.

  “Hang on! Relax!” Orion said. He tried running but Theo banged into him. “Oh well.”

  “Now can you answer my questions?”

  Hours later Kerry came back into camp. The girl was fallen forward, arms around her neck. Her face was buried in raven hair and milky-white fur.

  Simon paused. Orion crumpled, weak from repeated blows. Theo burst in. “The girl rides! What a magnificent creature!”

  Orion lay on the ground, crumpled into a fetal position. Blood streamed from his his head. He could not lay on his striped back. He heard Simon walk away and started to sob.

  He hurt everywhere. He was a slave, beaten, destroyed. Why try anymore? Surely his new life couldn't be any worse. He'd be sold in Avallonë. He knew how to read. Surely he'd get a job in a great estate, have a bed to sleep on, food, not be beaten overmuch as nobles didn't like disfigured slaves. His parents were gone. Gone! He had to face the truth that Kerry would soon be gone too.

  Besides, he'd succeeded, hadn't he? Kerry would not be killed. The young one inside
her would survive. Theo's look of awe and Desdemona's wonder from this afternoon flitted across his mind. That was it. This was his free life. It was over.

  He kept on sobbing, tears trying to expel the hurt. But only emptiness grew inside. He started humming. The men around him got up. The wagon was moving. Like living dead he walked forward. They traveled later into the night due to the delay that day. Some strength came as he walked, but not enough. The ground was a painful couch to him when he fell where he stood at wagon halt.

  He woke up. Something cool was rubbing the searing heat away from his forehead. He seethed at the pain when the cool cloth touched him again, but craved the relief it brought.

  He opened his eyes. Desdemona kneeled in front of him, stroking his face with her cloth. Her face caught his eye. It was radiant yet sad. She smiled at him. “How are you?”

  He didn't answer.

  “What's your name? You know mine but I never asked yours.”

  “Orion.”

  “Orion.” She finished up with his face then took his hands in his. Her hands were soft and warm. She started tending to a couple nicks on his arms.

  “Please, my back.”

  She nodded. “Here, sit up.” He sat. She moved behind him and, reaching around him, started unbuttoning his shirt.

  He sat there, cross-legged. Her hair fell on his shoulder. It was the closest thing to human embrace he'd had since Enda said goodbye. When was that? A fortnight ago. When he had a different life. When he thought he had lost it all.

  She took his shirt off. He heard a quick inhale of breath. He tensed, fearing the pain of her touch. She started slow, away from the most damage, and worked her way inwards. His skin was chafed, musculature torn, and he had bent something when he fell the second time. He gritted his teeth.