The Healer Princess

by Amy Little

  “You put me in this state!”

  Zak kept his teeth clenched as he flung on himself his mantle and affixed the sword. It took him twice as long as usual to do.

  Annika kept the blanket pulled up to her chin. She could not take her eyes off him. To do so would risk delving into her own thoughts and feelings. And that could have been dangerous. His words, after all, were too close what she had thought at the back of her mind. Was she not also to blame? It was safer to focus on an external reaction. “No use both of us sitting here, simmering in regret. Go then!”

  “So I will!” he said. “No matter what you might think, this wasn’t some sort of devious masterplan.”

  “So you say!”

  Zak breathed in and out to steady himself. “I will see if it is safe in the castle. I will then return with food.”

  “You won’t get thanks from me.”

  “I don’t need it.” He grabbed a torch from near the pile of firewood, lit it, and then stooped by the door, glaring back at her. His eyes shone in the flickering light. His words came out in a jumble. “And about regret, for the record. I don’t regret what happened. Not one second of it!”

  Once the entrance stones swiveled closed again after Zak, Annika felt herself gripped by sudden cold. She stared at the fire in the hearth for some time. Once it was down to a low, flickering flame that looked like it was on the cusp of being extinguished, she realized that she did not want to stay in the cave alone. She hopped off the bed.

  The floor of the cave felt like ice on her bare feet.

  Her movements felt languid, delayed, and oddly confused.

  Annika cursed Zak as she dressed, shivering, and getting her leggings and tunic on the wrong way around, then struggling with her leather boots, before running across to the exit.

  The stones that had closed behind Zak did not at a glance reveal any openings or latches.

  Annika pushed the stones, felt along the ledges, tried to sense which indentation may indicate a hinge. She could not work it out. She returned to her satchel, and took out the dagger.

  The dagger pulsated in her hands.

  Not even this source of light, which she held close to the stones, helped reveal the door’s secret. She threw two pieces of wood into the fire and returned to the bed, feeling defeated. Then on remembering the recent activities that took place there, blushed and quickly relocated to the chair.

  Her thoughts fleeted from one thing to another. She thought about how she had only begun to set herself up in Karrum, how she had hoped to isolate herself from her feelings for Zak, how difficult it would be city to emerge from the recent turmoil and for her to again come face to face with Zak. Rage gripped her at the thought of what she felt was his betrayal, or, as a part of her whispered, the realization of she wanted as much as he did.

  Once the rage subsided, she thought that she should not have let it happen.

  Yet even as she thought this, she could not help recalling the sensation of his body against hers, his lips meeting hers, his breath on her neck. Could she avoid responsibility for what had taken place between them?

  And now, that this had happened, how could she get her life back on track?

  She closed her eyes to try and stop the tears.

  When she dragged herself out of the bed sometime later, she found herself exploring the cave, using her dagger for light. The cave was approximately fifteen meters deep. The floor was even, as though it was levelled on purpose, but on looking at it closely Annika could not see any signs of having been worked by hands of men. On the one side of the cave, in the far corner, was a thin, long crevice over which was positioned a crudely hewn loo. On the other side of the cave, a ledge was cut into the wall. In the ledge was a small round hole, next to which stood a small steel bucket. The bucket was tied by a long rope to a peg that had been driven into the wall.

  Annika peered into the hole, but could not make anything out. Cold and wet rose up from it. She picked up a loose stone and threw it into the opening. A distant splash returned after a couple of seconds. This must be the water well, she realized. She lowered the bucket, but although the water that she drew up smelled fresh and clean she did not dare drink it. Instead, she drank from the flagon in her bag and returned to where Zak exited, but despite trying to open it for some time, could not work out how.

  Time passed. As she paced the room, she kept returning to her last interaction with Zak. She had to admit that what she had said to him was wrong.

  He had taken advantage of her no more than she of him. She could not move forward without addressing that. She knew she would need to apologize for what she had said to him. She made a face on thinking that.

  To distract herself, she wondered what time it was above ground. It must have been early morning by now. What was Zak doing there, for so long?

  She remembered the strife all around before they descended in the cave. The frightened chambermaids, the bloodied soldiers, the congregation of townspeople who sought refuge in her father’s castle. Would Zak be safe there?

  Thinking of Zak again brought back the memories and the sensations of Zak’s face against hers, his hands on her hips, and her hands caressing and then grasping his back and never wanting to let him go.

  After some time Annika thought to try the door again. She ran her hands over its rough surface. She thought she had explored every crack, pressed every bump, pushed against every indentation. Nothing worked. Frustrated, she kicked the door. Then she sprung back with a muted exclamation. The stones hurt her toes. What followed, startled her.

  With a slightly creaky groan, as though it were a living thing, the door swung open.

  Annika looked at it for a few moments, trying to decide. Should she wait for Zak in the cave? The thought of Zak stirred up her anger once more. She wasn’t going to base what she did on him, she thought hotly. She will find him, she decided, apologize to him for her words, and then tell him that she wants nothing to do with him ever again.

  That plan of action cheered her.

  Besides, she may never work out how to open this door again. She dashed to the bed for her satchel and then out into the tunnel.

  The stones behind her smoothly swiveled shut.

  Annika looked along the tunnel, which slanted up and down from where she stood. One way was likely to lead to the castle. The other…. She remembered the Dragon Mouth, and the giant, ice-cold lake Dor’se. Should she go to the castle, searching for Zak, she asked herself or….

  The thought of lake stirred something inside her.

  She was already heading along the down-tunnel, before she realized that she had made a choice.

  Although she felt rested, her limbs still felt weak from the previous day’s exertions. As she walked, she nibbled on some dry bread that she had in her satchel, and focused on the string of light that flowed from her dagger.

  The string seemed to pulsate with light. It grew brighter the lower she went.

  Soon, all Annika could see was the bright light hovering in the air before her and seemingly pulling her along after it. She lost track of time.

  Sudden light flooded all her surroundings together with a harsh, fluctuating sound.

  Annika closed her eyes. Then, gingerly, she opened them again.

  There, before her, lay the lake. The soft gray sand seemed to shift with every passing moment. Waves beat against the shore, then rolled back. The sound of the wash was overpowering. It was as though the lake before her was alive. And if it were, its state could only be described as turmoil.

  Annika felt herself tense with fright, looking at the waves in the distance.

  The waves further along rose up to the height of dozens of meters, before gently dissipating by the time they reached the shore. At the pier, only one boat dipped and rose, its creaks piercing the sound of the wash, and its sides straining against the rope that tied it to the pier’s posts.

  Annika wondered what had happened to the other boat. Who could have taken it?

  Don
’t linger, a voice whispered to her. The voice was soft and sinuous and yet cold, like the whisper of the wind through tree boughs in winter.

  Annika spun around. She held the dagger in her hands. Her hands trembled.

  There was no one around. The waves rose and fell with the same fearful ferocity.

  And yet Annika could not push away the thought that she was being watched. She did not detect malevolence. Yet, she could also not detect any warmth.

  Don’t stay here, Princess of the Seven Suns, of the House of the Tiger, the voice whispered. This is not the time for you to be here. Return to the castle. Your future husband needs you.

  “Who speaks?” said Annika. She tried to make her voice as brave as she could, but even so it quavered. “I’m not… the Princess of the Seven Suns. And… and is Zak my future husband?”

  The voice did not answered her.

  Annika reached inside and took hold of her power. She felt it fill her, felt the power surge from the lake and into her body. With it, she then sought out the speaker.

  No living creature in the vicinity could have evaded her search.

  She felt nothing. She probed again.

  The power seemed to surge through her and into a void. It was a void so deep and dark that it threatened to suck her in. It was cold. It was so cold….

  Annika felt herself stumble. She let go of the power, then looked around as though coming out of a daze.

  The waves lapped right up to her toes.

  The void had brought her right up to the edge of the lake.

  Go back to the castle, Princess, the voice whispered again.

  Annika retreated from the lake, and then scrambled up into the tunnel from which she emerged.

  Not until sometime passed did she realize that she was running. She stopped to catch her breath. “I imagined it,” she said to herself, out loud.

  Her voice reverberated along the dark tunnel.

  Annika shivered.

  It was terrifying, but also intriguing, and impossible to let go of wondering whom that voice belonged to. But now was not the time to solve that question. The more pressing issue now was how to find her way to the castle. It would be difficult without the guidance of the strings of light from her dagger that had brought her to the lake.

  Annika thought about this for a few moments. She decided that if she followed the up-incline in the tunnels she will eventually emerge above ground. Where the tunnels flared, she would choose one that sloped up the steepest.

  There, she could find Zak, tell him everything she thought of him, and then demand answers.

  Annika clutched the dagger in her hand and grimly set out.

  From somewhere above, reverberated voices. They rumbled along the stuffy tunnel like the dying echo of an earthquake.

  Annika stood in the semi-dark, her head tilted sideways, listening to the ebbing sound and feeling that she could cry from relief. The exit had to be near.

  She had been in the warren of intertwined tunnels what had felt like most of the day. There were dozens of them, and all of them seemed to intersect at one time or another.

  The journey had used up every bit of energy that she had left. She felt that every muscle in her body had strained and worked far more than it had ever done in the preceding seventeen years.

  She heard more voices, intermittently, as she stumbled along. When the sounds grew fainter, she knew she was on the wrong track. She had long given up remembering the turns she took. The fog of exhaustion did not let her focus on more than lifting her feet.

  The exit, when she found it, looked like a narrow crack. The crack ran between two blocks of stone. The depth of the stone, as far as she could tell, was more than two meters, and from the other side came fresh air and the roll of distant footsteps.

  Annika pushed herself into the crack without hesitation. A man could not have fit in, nor a woman any larger than her. As it was, midway through, she felt that her hips were stuck. Then she felt, or thought, or imagined, the stones on either side move. She had a vision of herself compressed to a thin pancake and wanted to scream. Somehow, the haze of fear pushed her through and she stumbled out the other side, bruised and panting. This was not the same place where she had entered the tunnels with Zak.

  While she did not know where she was, the castle’s corridors were easy to follow, compared to the tunnels. Soon, she was walking beside the castle’s inhabitants.

  People rushed past. An elderly maid limped by, carrying two baskets with cakes. After her followed two kitchen girls, each with a carving knife. Their hands trembled. They looked at Annika without recognizing her. After them ran a boy in an apron. Annika did a double take after he made a face at her. It was only after he was gone that she remembered him as the kitchen boy.

  If she found the chaos bewildering inside the corridors that led to the storerooms, which is where she now realized she had exited, outside was worse.

  It was night. In the middle of the castle courtyard burned a large wagon laden with barrels. Whatever was in those barrels, popped now and then, sending a long tongue of a flame up and sparks all around. Smoke blanketed the courtyard. From near the gates came the clang of swords and piercing shouts. The townsfolk, who Annika remembered seeing in the courtyard before, were nowhere to be seen.

  Annika rushed to the elevation behind the hall. From the slope, she could peer over the lower section of the castle wall. It was as she had feared.

  The city of Karrum was on fire. Thick smoke rose up from the city, with the thicker columns in the newer parts of town. The old town, nearer to the castle, was mostly built of stone. Torches, that looked like fireflies in the distance, flitted between the distant houses.

  Annika’s feelings reflected the city’s turmoil. She climbed down the slope of the hill, barely seeing where she stepped. When she reached the courtyard, she veered to the left and away from the guest wing. Then she stopped in horror.

  A pile of bodies lay by the inner wall that abutted the chapel. They lay stacked against the wall like logs. There were over three or four dozen there.

  Annika stared, forgetting to breathe. She was sure she made out at least one of the faces. It was the round-faced officer who had tried to stop her at the gates. That incident seemed like so long ago. While she was sorry to see the carnage, she did not feel anything particular for this man, Annika thought, and then chided herself for being vindictive.

  A flock of the strange black and green birds swooped down from somewhere. They flew in formation, turning around the chapel and diving to the entrance gates. Within moments, shouts and clangs of steel sounded. Men came running around. They were workmen, staff servants, and a group of women.

  “Run!” one of the men shouted to Annika. “The snakes!”

  Annika turned.

  A group of snake men sparred with a dozen mercenaries. The mercenaries seemed uncertain. The snakes attacked in formation.

  Annika for a moment wondered whether the formation in which the snakes fought seemed to match the formation in which the black and green birds flew. Then she was off after the others, unnerved by the snakes’ silent movements and the mercenaries’ shouts that were filled with bravado and terror.

  Scurrying down the gallery on the side of the residential wing was a maid with strikingly large, brown, fear-filled eyes.

  Annika remembered the woman as Cara’s chambermaid. Annika tried to stop the woman but she brushed past her and ran towards the great hall so quickly that before Annika had a chance to stop her the woman had already vanished from sight. Did that mean that Cara had returned? Annika followed the woman.

  The hall was filled by the townsfolk and their families that were lucky enough to secure entrance to the castle. It was dim inside. In the light of the occasional torch, the faces looked grim and worn out. Children were screaming in terror.

  At first Annika tried to carefully tread her way amongst them. After stepping on someone’s leg and another one’s foot, and after angry faces leaped out at her from the
ground as though coming alive on her approach, she made for the side exit to the hall. She almost ran the last three or so meters, leaping from one empty spot to another, followed by curses and shouts. On reaching the door she opened it with her shoulder and tumbled into the corridor outside.

  The corridor was also the scene of a recent raging battle. The battle had progressed somewhere to the left, where steel clashed with steel.

  Annika went in the opposite direction, then stopped. Zak was bound to be where there was fighting. She turned around and ran back.

  The sounds led her to the small courtyard outside the residential wing. In the paved courtyard taking place was a melee – townsfolk with pitchforks, mercenaries, and her father’s men squaring up to the snake men. Off to one side, Zak was surrounded by four snakes. He parried their strokes that rained down on him, finding time between parries to attack them.

  Annika stood frozen to the spot, battling her emotions on seeing him. Part of her wanted to bury herself in his arms, while another part of her wanted to run up and help the snake men for all the pain and confusion that he had caused her.

  This indecision may have saved her, as a snake man limped past, looked at her, dismissed her as not being a threat, and continued on to attack a stable hand, who had confronted the snake man with a pitchfork.

  Annika did not wait to see the outcome of that encounter. Feeling the adrenaline surge through her, she rushed towards Zak. The dagger was in her hand again.

  He didn’t need her assistance, dispatching the last of the four snakes and then spinning around when his senses told him of her approach. His face registered disbelief. “How did you get here?”

  “You didn’t expect me to sit waiting for you?”

  “That’s exactly what I expected!” Zak parried a thrust from another snake that had leaped out from behind the colonnade that surrounded the courtyard, and then swiftly chopped down, Zak’s sword cutting deep down into the snake man’s breastbone. The snake collapsed as though it were just a blood stained robe that was falling down, with no bodily substance beneath it.