The Queen's Gambit: Book One of Imirillia (The Books of Imirillia 1)

by Beth Brower

  “He said carefully!” Eleanor flinched, for the maid was none too gentle.

  “Oh, Your Majesty!” Miya seemed shaken by the entire ordeal. She fretted, trembling as she finished, which only increased Eleanor’s discomfort.

  Wil, in the meantime, had lifted an elaborate necklace up to the light. It was a beautiful companion piece to the earrings, a web of diamonds which, once Wil had handed it to Miya to secure about Eleanor’s neck, fell across her collarbones.

  It felt heavy and cold, taking Eleanor’s mind off her throbbing ears as she looked into the mirror. She leaned forward, scrutinizing the reflection of the necklace.

  “Miya,” she said. “Fetch the Battle Crown.”

  After the maid left, Eleanor looked towards Wil. “I don’t think I’ll wear the necklace,” she explained. “The crown and earrings will be enough.”

  “It must be quite the crown,” Wil said.

  “It is,” Eleanor replied, relieved as the oil began to take effect. “You’ve surprised me again, Wil Traveler,” she added. “Instead of recruiting you for training, I should have appointed you as wardrobe mistress.”

  “I am no lady’s maid,” he said, and Wil’s smile had an edge on it.

  ***

  “Here it is,” the maid said, lifting a silk-bound object as she came back through the door.

  Wil looked over his shoulder with curiosity, and turned to watch the maid reveal the Battle Crown. It was not like the simple circlet that Eleanor had worn in Ainsley, but rather a remarkable piece. When placed on the queen’s head, it appeared to catch every ounce of command from her body, holding her in place.

  A distant observer might have only seen a crown fashioned of gold, but Wil’s closer view revealed a pattern of carved stones and battlements: ten squared turrets rose around the band, the strong stone towers bound by vines. It was a show of strength. It made Eleanor look older. Or rather, Wil thought, timeless.

  She was right. The crown, the earrings, the way her hair fell, curved against the nape of her neck—it was enough.

  “What’s wrong now?” Eleanor asked, turning her steady eyes on him. Wil pulled his face out of a frown.

  “I had not even thought to ask,” Wil said, raising his eyebrows. “But, do you know how to draw your sword properly?”

  “Not to your standards, I’m sure,” Eleanor replied. “Miya?”

  The maid scrambled to retrieve Eleanor’s ceremonial sword and scabbard. The silver and gold weapon had been polished thoroughly throughout the battle run, although Eleanor had declined to wear it.

  “I don’t really know how to do this well,” Miya said as she held the weapon gingerly, and she looked towards Wil for help. After asking Eleanor wordlessly for permission, Wil took the weapon from the maid and stepped towards Eleanor.

  “Pardon,” he said, and he secured the sheath to Eleanor while trying to maintain a respectful distance, pulling it tight against Eleanor’s waist. From the corner of his eye, Wil could see Eleanor’s face tighten and was unsure if it was in response to the scabbard or to his proximity.

  “See how the scabbard falls down below the hip?” Wil stepped away, speaking briskly. “Now, try to draw your sword.”

  “I’ve drawn a sword,” Eleanor said.

  “Indulge me,” Wil said, motioning for her to try. “This dress is more inhibiting than your usual wardrobe. If the need arises, you do not want to appear a novice.”

  Eleanor’s mouth twitched, but she pulled the sword from its sheath, struggling against the confines of the dress. The movement caused her earrings to swing, and Eleanor tightened her jaw.

  “Try it again,” Wil motioned. “Lead with your elbow instead of your shoulder.”

  Eleanor drew it out again, leading with her elbow. It was easier.

  “Good,” Wil said, sounding deliberately professorial. “If I were you, I would practice that same movement a dozen times. The sheer act of drawing one’s sword can be intimidating.”

  Hastian entered the room. “Your Majesty,” he said, “the men are assembled and ready to ride out.”

  Eleanor nodded. “I need a few moments alone,” she said. “Then I will be down.”

  Hastian watched as Wil left Eleanor’s room, his eyes sweeping Wil with an unreadable expression.

  ***

  Wil was talking with Aedon and Crispin when Eleanor stepped out onto the steps of the hunting lodge. Crispin stopped in the middle of a word and stared, and Aedon turned, the edges of his eyes creasing when he saw Eleanor. Wil took note, scanning each face in the company as they saw their queen.

  Eleanor took a few more steps then came to a stop. The sun reflected off the gold beads embroidered into her gown, off the Battle Crown, refracting through the earrings that shimmered as she paused at the top of the stairs. She looked like the blackest night, illuminated only by points of brilliant starlight: the white of her skin was crisp; her copper hair, bold. She reminded Wil of the night sky over the Imirillian desert.

  Hastian stepped forward and offered her his arm. Then they descended the steps to where Thrift was saddled. But, it was Hegleh, not Thrift, which was brought forward.

  “I forgot to mention this before,” Eleanor said, turning towards Wil, the folds of her gown complementing the movement. “But, I’m commandeering your horse. It was your idea, was it not, to present an image of complete power? And, as Hegleh is the most impressive mount—” she added. “You may ride Thrift until I am finished with Hegleh.”

  “An honor,” Wil said and he bowed. He was pleased more than surprised. Once Hastian had helped Eleanor to mount the warhorse, Hegleh’s white coat provided a sharp contrast to Eleanor’s attire. The queen sat higher now than any of the men in the company, for Hegleh was a good two hands taller than their mounts. The sheath of Eleanor’s sword caught bright slices of sunlight, completing her already striking visage.

  A soldier handed Wil Thrift’s reins, and he mounted, falling in line beside Gaulter Alden.

  “And now, you look ready to meet Thistle Black,” Crispin called from behind.

  Eleanor turned and smiled at him with a capricious confidence incongruous with her image.

  “I’ve been practicing before the mirror,” she said.

  Crispin laughed, and some of her council smiled to one another, though, Wil thought, not as freely as they usually would have.

  Chapter Fifteen

  As the company began their march across up the valley, they were greeted by a sun-drenched morning. Wil removed his cloak and thrust it into his saddlebag. A few hours into the ride, the clear sky gave way to gray clouds coming in off the sea, which only added to the pleasure of the day.

  Eleanor rode Hegleh carefully, lifting her hand to her ears occasionally, but the oil’s effect appeared to hold. The company continued in near silence, the soldiers remembering the instructions given of how Eleanor wanted them to act.

  As they came closer to the mountains, Wil could see stone buildings rising up among the trees. Tall pines stood, dense and strong, mingling with homes and outbuildings. According to the map Wil had seen, this was the farthest fen from Ainsley. So, it was little wonder that Thistle Black felt the freedom to set himself against the queen. A large sound, like the rumble of thunder, came echoing off the mountain, and Wil looked sharply to the sky, but the clouds were calm.

  Aedon rode near Wil and saw his expression.

  “The mines,” Aedon said over the noise and jangle of the company. “They’re opening mines farther up the mountains.”

  “But, what caused the noise?” Wil asked. “A rockslide?”

  “No.” Aedon shook his head. “It’s our powder. It ignites and causes a reaction of sorts, a fire strong enough to blow away rock,” Aedon explained. “Aemogen’s large mining industry is due to our use of it. I wouldn’t think that you have this in Imirillia. Marion has been after our formula for years.”

  “We have powders that, when ignited, send bursts of color into the night sky,” Wil said. “But I don’t know if
they can break stone. Imirillia traffics in sand, remember.”

  “What I cannot reconcile,” Aedon said, setting his face, “is why men are working up on the mountain when, by the queen’s order, they should all be awaiting training this afternoon?”

  When the company rode into South Mountain fen, Eleanor did not slow her pace. The company rode through the town, directly to the fen hall. People, mainly women, stood about, looking uncertain. A few raised their hands to the queen, but many remained quiet.

  Eleanor held her head high. She reined Hegleh to a stop before the fen hall. Wil and his companions did the same. Then they waited in silence, breathing heavy from the ride into the fen. The door opened, and a large man with a gray beard stepped forward. He looked at Eleanor before his eyes moved over the rest of the militant company. He offered a bow, but he did not lower his head.

  “Queen Eleanor,” he said.

  Eleanor was poised as she looked impassively at Thistle Black. “Why are the men of South Mountain fen not assembled and awaiting training?” she questioned evenly.

  Doughlas was coming down the street on foot towards the company. He bowed before the queen, out of breath.

  “Your Majesty,” Doughlas said. “I gave Thistle Black strict instructions to have the men present and ready upon your arrival. This morning, he sent the miners back up the mountain in direct defiance. And, the farmers were ordered into their fields.”

  Black glared at Doughlas. “I know how to run my own fen,” he said defiantly.

  “No,” Eleanor corrected. “You know how to run my fen. Doughlas, retrieve the men from the mountain and gather the laborers in from their fields.” She looked back to Thistle Black. “I will be glad to have a few hours’ conversation with you, Thistle Black. Shall we start with a full review of all mining records for the last three years?”

  Thistle Black hesitated before his face opened into a smile. “It has been such a long time, Queen Eleanor. I had rather hoped that we would have time to discuss more pressing matters and for you to meet my children, before we begin our work.”

  Crispin rolled his eyes and gave Wil an expression of impatience. Wil shifted in his seat, seeing right through the fen lord. So had Eleanor. She snapped her fingers, and Hastian dismounted then, in turn, helped Eleanor to the ground. Thistle Black eyed the stature of Wil’s horse then looked back down at the queen. The war council dismounted as well, handing their reins to the few nervous men nearby.

  Eleanor stood before Thistle Black, looking uninterested in his proposal. “Would you rather discuss your plans for treason?” Eleanor asked as she removed her riding gloves.

  Black did not answer.

  “Let us compromise, then, and go straight to the mine records.” She walked past him into the fen hall.

  Wil watched as Thistle Black pumped his hands into fists nervously and shouted at a young man, who was in the doorway of a nearby home. The war council walked past Black, one by one, with little acknowledgment. Wil paused and leveled his eyes at the man. He guessed Thistle Black to be more bluster than anything.

  Eleanor began speaking in angry tones, and as Wil’s eyes adjusted to the dark room, he could see why. Thistle Black had turned the fen hall into his private residence. His wife stood in the corner, nervous, wringing her hands.

  Eleanor walked to the hearth and turned as Thistle Black entered. “I am waiting for the records, Black,” she said.

  “I’ve just sent my messenger to retrieve them,” he said gruffly.

  Eleanor raised her eyebrows. “All records are to be kept in the fen hall. Why are they not here?” she demanded. “Was it, perhaps, because you found there was not room, once you had decided to move in for more space to raise your family?”

  “As I am sure you understand that with six children—” he began.

  “I understand,” Eleanor interrupted, “that with six children, you should be worried about building a larger house rather than spending your time in Calafort, instigating an illegal smugglers ring.”

  Black’s wife covered her mouth and made an uncomfortable noise as if she would cry. Wil almost felt sorry for the woman.

  “You’ve not proof of anything,” Black said. “I am as loyal as the next man.”

  “That you are most assuredly not,” Eleanor snapped.

  A young man arrived at the door, holding a bundle of papers in his arms. He was tired from running and looked from Thistle Black to the queen. Black motioned for the boy to drop the papers on a table in the center of the room.

  “Black, please remove all your belongings immediately to your own home,” Eleanor said. “The fen hall is for the use of all, not the comfort of one.”

  Wil leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, watching everyone in the room. Aedon stood calmly, as did Gaulter Alden. Crispin bounced nervously, clearly upset by the whole event. Thistle Black narrowed his eyes and yelled at the boy to begin moving furniture.

  “Is this your son?” Eleanor asked. “He does not appear familiar.”

  “No, he is—”

  “If he is not your son,” Eleanor interrupted, “he need not do your work. You may remove any furniture belonging to your own family yourself, with the help of your wife of course, while my councillors and I review the records.” She shifted her eyes to the young man. “Are there any other records in the fen you are aware of? Answer honestly, and it will save us the search.”

  The boy began to shake his head, but he was nervous, scratching his neck and mumbling to himself. He finally nodded. “I could not carry them all,” he said, glancing anxiously at Thistle Black.

  “Crispin, this young man will need help,” Eleanor said. “See to it and invite your soldiers to stable their horses and stand ready for training this evening, when the men have returned from the mountains.”

  Crispin bowed and exited the building, taking the shaking young man with him. Wil could see through the window that Crispin had put his arm around the poor fellow and appeared to be lightening the mood.

  Aedon pulled a chair out from the table, offering it to Eleanor. She sat, and Wil followed suit as the council began to organize the papers before them. Thistle Black’s wife had now begun to weep silently, picking up small trinkets and placing them in a basket. The fen lord was red faced, still standing by the open door.

  “You need not wait for us,” Aedon said simply. “We can do without you just fine, while you remove your belongings. You may begin now as I assume you have possessions to remove from upstairs, before we settle ourselves in for the evening.”

  Black stormed out of the fen hall, his wife following at his heels, her head bowed.

  Wil took his gaze from the empty doorway and returned to the work at hand. But, the mood was heavy and uncomfortable. Eleanor did not look at her friends, but rather focused on the papers before her. Her hands were shaking.

  ***

  By evening, three things had taken place: Thistle Black and his family had removed themselves from the fen hall; the records had been studied, all initial accounts showing inaccuracies; and the miners had come down from the mine, their eyes downcast as they stood, discomfited, before their queen.

  A large field, west of the fen hall, served as training grounds. Many of the men were raw from a day in the mine and were not eager to begin training so late in the day. Eleanor sat astride Hegleh, towering over those gathered, not speaking. Gaulter Alden was mounted as well and rode before the group, asking directly why they had gone to the mountains when their queen had requested that they await their training? No one answered, but several men glanced at Thistle Black, who stood nearby in silent fury. Gaulter Alden said a brief word about loyalty and turned the men over to Wil.

  “We usually begin by assessing your individual skills,” Wil said. “But, since the men of this fen seem to struggle with knowing whom to follow, strength training would be more appropriate.” Wil paced before them. “And so, we begin. I want all you men to line up in twenty even rows, a man’s width apart in all directions.”
He clapped his hands. “Hurry to it!”

  Wil ran the men through drill after exhausting drill. By the time they began fighting maneuvers, the sun had long set. Several bonfires had been built by the battle run guard, and Eleanor remained astride the white horse, looking impassive, still not speaking.

  ***

  They began training early the next morning and continued relentlessly through the day. Midday meal was cut short, and little socializing was had. Eleanor and Aedon retreated to the fen hall to study the records, and when they returned to wordlessly watch the training, Wil could see that she was not pleased.

  Day three was little different. As the training came to a close, the people of the fen walked with bent heads, beaten. The women prepared for the traditional festivities of the evening with a joyless effort. At the very end of the day, Eleanor asked Wil and Crispin to call the men to attention. She dismounted from Hegleh, sending her to the stables, and stood in the field, Hastian a shadow behind her.

  Each man, Eleanor instructed, was to come before her, one by one, and declare his fidelity to the crown. Wil sent the first man to the queen. She stood forty feet away, and as Wil watched, he knew two things: first, he had a splitting headache from the rigors of the training at South Mountain, and second, Eleanor was miserable.

  When the first man arrived, instead of having him kneel directly, the queen spoke to him for a moment, her words unheard by those who waited. The man returned a reply before kneeling and swearing his fidelity to the queen. She offered him her hand, lifted him off the grass, and smiled.

  The next man came forward, and a similar exchange followed.

  Women and children began to gather. The children, more willing to cast off the weight in the air around them, began to cheer as each man swore his fidelity to the queen. The noise grew louder and louder, and Wil looked around him. The people had begun to relax and smile with one another for the first time since the battle guard had arrived in the fen three days before.

  It took over two hours, but Eleanor gave each man a personal greeting and enough time to hear his words in return, before he offered his pledge.