I blink, then glance down at my feet and around the rest of the scene. There are no burial stones that I can see, no grave markers. Just astonishingly beautiful flowers everywhere. But then, it's such a serene place, the definition of hallowed ground, I think.
Calla glances around, too, her lips softly curved. “Good, good,” she says, when she sees that all the knights are accounted for. “Now, let us go,” she says, turning to wave her hand in a direction opposite the sun.
Over the tops of the trees, I can see a tower peeking out among the sharp pines. My heart rises in my throat, and my blood starts to rush through me in excitement as I realize what I'm looking at. The tower is built of white stone that seems to shimmer in the sunshine, and the golden roof of the tower is fluted and lovingly shaped. The architecture is exact, precise, and just gorgeous. Flapping from the post above the tower is a pennant that is a bright cobalt blue, covered in stars.
“Let us return to Arktos City,” says Calla companionably to her knights.
The excitement inside of me is building to dangerously high levels as my heart rises...but then something happens that I must have imagined. I realize I'm on a magical, different world, but I couldn't possibly have just seen what I thought I saw.
Because flying right by that merrily flapping pennant on the top of the tower...
I stand there, staring, blinking, disbelieving, as I watch the flying horse zip right past the tower, pumping his wings mightily and lifting his head to neigh. His legs are arched beneath him like he's a carousel horse, and he's bright white, with a bright white mane and a long, flowing tail as soft-looking as clouds.
The horse with wings, um... It looks like Pegasus.
“Am I really seeing that?” I breathe to Virago, clinging to her arm so I don't keel over from shock.
“You must have those in your world, beloved,” says Virago, shaking her head and chuckling at me. “You have a picture of one hanging in your bedroom!”
“I... Yeah, we don't have those,” I tell her, finally realizing that I'm not hallucinating. There is an honest-to-goodness flying horse making circles overhead.
“Just...don't stand beneath it,” says Virago, glancing up and frowning a little. “They are quite messy.”
“Right,” I manage, and then we're moving across the meadow as the flying horse comes to land in the center of it, staring at us with suspicion before snatching up one of the golden roses and crunching happily on it.
Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore.
“It's a very short walk to the city itself,” says Calla, falling back to walk beside Virago and myself. “But I can call for the royal carriage if you're not well, dear Holly. You're looking quite flushed,” she tells me kindly.
“Oh... Oh, I'm well,” I tell her, gulping air. “I just saw a flying horse, so that was kind of weird and awesome, but I'm totally fine.” A smile breaks out over my face as I peer over my shoulder and watch that flying horse eat another golden rose, snorting and arching his wings overhead, as if he's stretching them in the late afternoon sunshine. Just like a bird would do.
“They're quite a nuisance, I'm afraid,” says Calla with a small smile. “We have managed to tame a small percentage of them, but they have bird brains. They are not nearly as smart as horses or alicorns, and as such, it is difficult to train them. Ah, well, they are quite pretty to look at, no?” she says.
I nod, still speechless. What's next, dragons?
No, don't think about that, Holly; you'll have a heart attack.
And then Calla is moving a little quicker to walk alongside Charaxus, who is at the head of our little group, as we enter the forest beneath the cool pines, stepping onto the needles that hush our footfalls.
“Welcome to my world, my love,” says Virago, putting an arm around me and squeezing tightly. The romance of the moment is truncated when Shelley sniffs at a tree and then pees against it.
I laugh a little and tug her leash after she's done, though she circles the tree again and sniffs with her fuzzy snout. “I can't believe I'm here...” I tell Virago, and then I feel a little choked up as I try to figure out how to tell her exactly what this means to me, the kid who searched her entire childhood for a portal to another world and never found one, and the adult who eventually stopped believing in magic because she lost her mother... And here it is, right in front of me, everything that I always wished for with my entire heart. A world full of magic.
Another world.
“My love,” says Virago then, stepping forward and tracing the thumb of her leather glove beneath my eye to catch my tears. “I am very glad,” she tells me gruffly, her voice thick with emotion, “that it means so much to you. It means so much to me that you are here, beside me. I love you,” she tells me then, holding my gaze. “You are my beloved, and you are here, in my homeland. My heart,” she whispers then, her blue gaze glittering, “is full.”
My heart is full, too, as I stare up at my girlfriend, and I stand on my tiptoes, wrapping my arms around her neck. I'm about to kiss her—fiercely—when we're interrupted.
“Hey, lovers!” Kell shouts back, chuckling as she shakes her head. “We'd like to arrive in the city before next winter!”
“We're coming,” Virago chuckles after clearing her throat, and I chuckle, too, kissing her lightly on the mouth before letting her go. I take her hand again, and then we walk through the quiet woods together quickly, catching up with the rest of the knights and the queen.
I'm surprised that there isn't much to the woods, and we're soon through them, stepping out from the rich loam and earth of the forest floor, onto bright white cobblestones.
I stare up at the city before me, utterly breathless.
The broad, white cobbled road that we're now standing on leads to a massive, sprawling city right out of a fantasy novel cover...but prettier, if you'd believe that. Yeah, actually, it's gorgeous beyond measure. There is a super-tall wall around the perimeter of the city that appears to be built on a hill. The wall itself, while imposing, is also decorated by carved scrollwork, an ornamentation of vines and leaves that spiral into each other all the way down the wall, drawing the eye. There is a wrought-iron gate at the entrance of the city, where the cobbled road leads, and those gates are currently flung wide—opening up into the city itself.
At the very top of the city is what I'm assuming is the palace, with many white towers; pointed golden roofs and brightly colored pennants flap merrily in the breeze.
It's breathtaking. And we're going there right now.
As we walk across the cobblestones, I honestly feel like a kid again, waking up Christmas morning, ecstatic to see exactly what Santa Claus has brought me. Virago squeezes my hand, and as I look up at my knight, I catch her smiling warmly as she watches me take everything in. I'm in awe, in absolute wonder, as I stare up at the wall that we're about to pass through, at the wrought-iron gates that are as tall as some churches back home. I've never seen anything more amazing.
Well...aside from the woman who brought me here.
I glance sidelong at her, and she reaches out, wrapping her arm around my waist as she holds me close, pressing her mouth down onto the top of my head and placing a warm kiss there.
Shelley, by the way, is amazed by all of this, too—which, granted, is her usual state of being, even back on Earth. But here on Agrotera, there are even more interesting things to smell and try to roll in, like that bit of horse refuse lying in the street. She's trying with all of her might to drag me toward it so that she can sniff it. But I'm not letting her, so, instead, I pull my almost-horizontal dog (she's tugging that hard!) along behind me until she finds something new to smell and forgets about the horse poop.
There are some women riding horses alongside us on the cobblestone road leading up to Arktos City, and of course Shelley wants to go visit the horses and make friends. She's floundering like a fish on the end of a line, trying to get at these animals.
That's an interesting thing, actually: there are no men that I
can see. Everyone else on the road with us is a woman.
“Hey,” I murmur to Virago, and she glances sidelong at me, a brow up. “Are men allowed in Arktos City?”
Virago laughs then, a rich rumble. “But of course, my love,” she says, shaking her head. “Arktos City is open to everyone. And you will see many men within the city when we enter it, because of the Hero's Tournament coming up,” she tells me, her head to the side, “but there are not many men who wish to live in Arktos City. There are not many women who would couple with them there, you see.” She shrugs. “People go where they are most comfortable, where they feel like they belong,” she tells me now, speaking the words tenderly as she holds me a little closer. “Arktos City is my home, has always been my home, because who I am is what everyone else is there.”
I nod. It makes sense. We want to go where we feel like we belong. But as Virago was talking, my stomach turned inside of me. I mean, she has every right to love her home city. But the way she spoke of it, the obvious love she has for this place...
How can I possibly take her away from this?
Okay, Holly, focus; now is no time to get sad about things. I can think about all of that later. I take a deep breath, and then we're stepping through the wrought-iron gates.
On either side of the gate, there are female knights wearing armor very similar to Virago's. But whereas Virago's armor is silver, these ladies are wearing armor that looks gold in tone.
The knights grin when they see Virago and the others, but the one on the right, the one closest to us, with long red hair that she has drawn up in a high ponytail, stops smiling immediately when she sees Calla. Calla has her hood up and pulled over her face, but she can't disguise her royal bearing, and some of her blonde hair is spilling out over her shoulder. The knight holds herself at attention immediately, drawing her sword and holding it at the level of her stomach so that the blade is pointed toward the sky.
Calla steps close to the knight, lowering her voice and leaning close, a gentle hand on the woman's armored forearm.
“No need to salute me, Galatea,” says Calla. “I am in disguise at present.”
Galatea's full mouth turns up at the corners, and then slowly, gently, she reaches up and tucks the errant piece of blonde hair that was curving over Calla's shoulder back under the hood of her cape.
It was an intimate gesture, yes, but I'm beginning to realize that most of the people in Arktos City (or, at the very least, the knights) are pretty touchy-feely with each other, and this doesn't necessarily mean anything. I'm fairly certain that's just how they are.
But still... Since I'm standing near Charaxus at this moment, I notice her reaction to the knight's gesture. And it's a very subtle reaction, but it's there all the same. Charaxus' jaw clenches when she sees this knight, Galatea, reach out with her gloved hand to tuck back the queen's hair. And Charaxus' hand, open by her side, curls into an instantaneous fist.
“Be careful, Your Majesty,” says Galatea then, relaxing her posture. “There are many newcomers here for the Hero's Tournament. Should I call more knights to escort you back to the palace?”
Virago actually laughs at that, a brow raised as her mouth curls into a smile. “Galatea, you insult me,” she says, but she's serious when she leans forward, her eyes glittering. “We will get the queen back safely.”
Galatea winks at Virago, then nods to all of us, and we are ushered into Arktos City.
There's a lot of chaos. Maybe it's because the Hero's Tournament is in town (or maybe Arktos City is really just this populated), but there are so many people and so many animals, all trying to go in different directions on the streets. Brushing past us is a group of women in floor-length dresses that drape over their beautiful brown bodies like water running down a hillside. A little bit ahead on the road is a woman dressed in breeches and a big red coat with a cascade of lace at her throat, her hair formed into long, black dreads down her back. There are women on horses, urging the animals to trot slowly through the press of people, and women on donkeys, and...oh, my God...
“Is that...” I whisper, gripping Virago's arm. She looks in the direction of my gaze, and then she chuckles.
“Yes, beloved,” she whispers to me. “That is an alicorn.” She winks at me then. “But I have heard you call them unicorns.”
And it is a unicorn. There's a woman riding an honest-to-goodness unicorn down the city street. As someone who grew up in the eighties, I can't even tell you what this moment feels like to me, but I'll try, because suddenly I'm full, full to the brim; an explosion of happiness just occurred in my chest.
The unicorn is about as tall as the closest horse (which is a big, heavy horse, like the Clydesdales on our world), but the unicorn is not as heavy-boned as that horse. Its bones are actually very thin, and its body is narrow and lanky. It has a long neck and a little beard spilling from its lower jaw, and hair around its cloven hooves. It looks more deer-like than horse-like, and the woman seated atop the unicorn is just as slim and fragile-looking as the unicorn itself. But I have a feeling that she's not fragile at all. She's wearing armor that looks crystalline, faceted and shining in the light, and she's wearing a crystalline helmet, too, with a long, purple plume that rests on her back. She has bronze-colored skin, and when she glances to the side, I see that her eyes are a warm, rich amber. Honestly, this whole moment is probably one of the most beautiful of my life. The unicorn proceeds in a stately fashion through the street, the woman sitting as regal as a queen upon its back.
“That's one of the challengers for the Hero's Tournament,” says Magel, then, leaning forward and murmuring into Virago's ear. “She is known as Citra, and she hails from Lumina, to the east.”
“Lumina,” Virago breathes, her eyes wide. “I have heard stories but have never seen one of their warriors in person. Do you think she is as skilled as the tales say?”
Magel's brows are raised as she shrugs elegantly. “Who knows? But I think it is telling that they have sent a warrior for this Hero's Tournament, if you get my meaning.”
Calla stares back, her face pale. “You...you speak of the King of Furo coming for the tournament? That this is the reason Lumina would wish to send someone?”
Magel's mouth moves into a thin, hard line. “I am, milady. I think that people besides ourselves are unhappy with his coming to power. I think that others are also worried that he seeks to expand his lands by force. That he wants war, by any means necessary, with anyone he deems a threat. And he deems everyone a threat, I believe,” she murmurs, her eyes flashing dangerously.
“War,” Calla breathes, looking after the woman on the horned creature's back with unseeing eyes. “There has not been a war here in Arktos for so many cycles of seasons. It would be the first war in generations.” She grows smaller, like she's deflating. “We cannot have a war,” she says, shaking her head resolutely. “We must do everything we can to prevent it. Charaxus,” says Calla, lifting her head to her vice queen. “When does the King of Furo arrive in Arktos City?”
Charaxus tilts her head, gazing up at the sun. “He was supposed to arrive this day,” she says, her voice low. “At any time, milady.”
Calla rolls her shoulders back, taking a deep breath. “Then we simply must impress him with our knights, show him that he does not, indeed, wish to go to war with such a powerful country.”
Virago and Magel exchange a glance, but Charaxus is nodding, not looking back at the other knights.
“Then we must get to the palace, and quickly, so that you are ready to receive him,” says Charaxus, whispering.
“Let us go,” says Calla, moving forward at a faster pace now.
But before we walk a handful of steps, we're stopped—because standing in the middle of the busy street is a very angry woman.
And she's staring right at Kell.
This is starting to be a regular occurrence.
The woman standing in front of us right now looks a little different from the one at the bar, however. For one, this woman
is dressed in breeches and a very sumptuous-looking brocade coat, with a big hat and feather plume on her head. Her outfit reminds me of something a French nobleman would have worn during Marie Antoinette's era. She looks, in other words, very fancy, with elaborately long, curled hair spilling over her shoulders, lace at her throat and wrists, and wide-buckled shoes on her feet.
She's also holding a huge sword at the level of her heart, and she's pointing it at Kell.
“Stand and face me, daughter of pigs!” the woman bellows.
“Damn,” mutters Kell, then lifts her chin and steps forward, her hands open in a conciliatory gesture.
“Do I...um...know you?” Kell asks the woman brightly.
The woman, who—up until now—has sported a pretty regular, tanned skin tone, turns as red as a strawberry, her eyes going wide, her mouth falling open.
“No, you do not know me, you swine! You slept with my wife!” says the woman; then she waves toward a woman standing off to the side wearing an elaborate red dress with a bell skirt, the neckline so low that I can almost see the entirety of her breasts.
She's smiling warmly at Kell and wiggling her fingers. And then, she actually winks.
“Oh,” says Kell, and she takes a step forward, bowing low to the woman in the dress. “Now I remember.” Head tilted to the side, Kell offers up a rogueish smile.
“Ahem,” says her challenger, raising the sword, lifting up her other hand as she sinks into a theatrical fighting stance. “I demand retribution!” she says loudly. “I must duel you for my wife's honor!”
Kell shrugs lazily, unsheathing her sword with a shing of metal that echoes off of the surrounding buildings.
“You can't fight her, Kell,” says Virago firmly, placing an arm in front of Kell's chest and shaking her head. Her voice drops. “She knows not what she does.”
I glance at the woman in the fighting stance, and I realize she looks a little like a painting of someone about to fight. And, hell, I'm certainly no fighter, but I've never seen the knights look so...well, posed. Her feet are positioned wide apart, she's holding up her other arm like she expects a high five at any moment, and her head is thrown back so that the little bit of wind that we're getting here, between the buildings, is sweeping her curls back elegantly.
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