“Slay something in my name.” He grinned up at her.
Senri laughed. “Of course I will. I’ll bring you back the head of the biggest monster I happen to kill on my journeys.”
“I can’t wait.”
The Warriors started moving and Senri said her last goodbyes. She lightly dug her heels into the flanks of her own horse, urging him to follow the others. As they trotted away from the village, she turned back and watched for as long as her neck would allow. She watched until the forest swallowed her home from view. The trees she had never traveled beyond now flooded her vision.
***
The crowded city streets startled Alina. She clung to her horse’s reins so hard her knuckles turned white. As they rode on, her grip relaxed and she adjusted to the chaotic surroundings. It had been so long since she had walked streets of the heartland’s capital. Her removal from court at a young age had all but erased her memories. Now she was immersed in it once more.
Her eyes darted over the scenery, the subdued colors of the market stands and the faded look of the stone buildings. Worn down with crumbling bricks and broken-down walls, the houses and stores had fallen into the same state of disrepair as her tower. Blue banners displaying the symbol of Osota hung everywhere, a falcon stitched in gold, and even though people packed the streets, an eerie sadness fell over the place. Pamphlets advertising an old memorial service for the King and Queen littered the cobblestone streets.
“How did their majesties come to pass?” Alina asked Velora. He rode by her quietly.
He glanced at the pamphlets. “Illness. They both succumbed to the same disease along with some of the royal staff. We burned so much to prevent plague, and we hosted purifications in every room of the palace.”
Sighing, Alina turned away to watch the streets again. Her gaze wandered over the civilians. Many dressed plainly, and few engaged in conversation. Everyone kept their eyes averted from Alina and her escort of soldiers. Too many beggars lined the streets. Even those who did not wail for coins looked shabby. Stalls holding luxurious silks and oddities remained untouched by the shoppers and barterers.
Finally, a pair of eyes caught hers. The dark green irises belonged to a young woman with an angular face. Her messy blonde hair had been ruffled from a breeze, and she stood in Warrior’s armor, the plated steel glinting with the symbol of the Warriors, the same falcon on the royal banners. The woman watched her ride past, a hand secured around the pommel of a sheathed sword. Alina swallowed. The young Warrior made Alina shudder when she drew in a breath. The woman’s gaze pierced her. She looked away to see if there were any other Warriors, and when she looked back, the woman had vanished. She blinked. Her breathing slowed and returned to normal.
“Regent,” she said.
“Yes, your Highness?” The Regent stared at one of the market stalls selling cloaks as they rode by. He had not noticed a thing. None of her escort had.
“Have you assigned any Warriors to watch our caravan today?”
The Regent finally turned to look at her. “No, Highness. But Warriors are always present in the market. Why do you ask?”
“One held my gaze just now,” she said, searching for the woman once more.
“Well, you probably saw the one on patrol then. They are very busy people sadly. I wish I had been able to obtain some as your guards.”
Alina’s grip on the reins tightened. She looked back to the Regent, eyes wide. “I’m to be assigned a guard?”
The Regent nodded. “Oh yes, for all hours of the day. We cannot have any harm befall you now, especially when we are in such a delicate political state of affairs.”
Her stomach clenched and she recognized the foolishness of her expectations. Of course they are going to watch you constantly. You’re important now! She chided herself as she took a calming breath, releasing the tension from her body. She could not be concerned about it now. For all she knew, the soldiers would be easy to push about and get rid of when she needed. “Am I to have no privacy then?” she asked coldly.
The Regent laughed and shook his head. “Your Highness, do not concern yourself with such things. We have not even assigned your guard.”
Alina sighed and looked up to the bright noon sky. “I suppose you’re right.” Their caravan left the crowded markets and traveled to the upper courtyards. The palace as it grew larger and larger before her. It was grand, to say the least, towering high with marble columns and stone walls. Gargoyles hung from parapets and soldiers stood at attention on keep walls and every entrance.
“Are you all right, Highness?” the Regent asked.
“I had forgotten how big it was,” she replied.
They rode through the main gardens first, a place lavish with rose bushes and other native flowers. She marveled at the multicolored blossoms and remembered how the garden staff could keep the blooms in place even through winter. Once they arrived at the palace steps, the soldiers dismounted and handed their horses off to stable boys before lining up on either side of the walkway.
A soldier offered to help her down and she accepted the assistance, her legs aching as they left the saddle. They had ridden nearly non-stop, only calling a halt out of necessity. As it was, Alina looked windswept and travel worn, something royalty should never look like. The Regent obviously picked up on it, for as he marched next to her he bent down and whispered, “Would you care for a guard to accompany you to a private chamber where you may change your gown? Riding skirts are hardly appropriate for court.”
Alina nodded. “Thank you, Regent.” Although prudish and short-tempered, the man had a good sense of decency and tact when it suited him. She walked up the castle steps with the Regent at her side. The doors seemed larger than she remembered as the guards held them aside for her. Eleven years. The doors had the same intricate carvings though, and the hall beyond still loomed. As they walked through the palace, Alina found herself staring and studying the once ghostly images of her past.
The Regent led her to one of the noble wings, to a room where her bag already sat. He excused himself and left her in the care of a chamber maid to help her wash and dress. The room held standard furnishings. A large bed, with dark red curtains falling over it, rested in the corner. An adjoining room held the bath, already filled with water. The chamber maid, a young plain woman, helped her undress and supplied soaps of different colors and fragrances. After the maid left, Alina removed her jewelry and set it aside on a shelf. She kept the signet ring, holding out her hand to examine it. The bright gold and gems shone despite her lack of hygiene. She had taken special care not to let anything happen to it. She finally lowered herself into the bath. The water, barely warm in the deep ivory tub, still felt wonderful on her cold, grime-covered skin.
After she scrubbed all the dirt away, she dried herself off with one of the soft towels supplied. It felt better on her skin than she could have remembered. She could not recall such an extravagant bath. Even the perfumes dazzled her senses. Someone must want her in the best possible mood for the coming Council meeting. The lace-embroidered garments with a matching green dress confirmed her suspicions. The Council did not offer such gifts for no reason. Her father had often raged about the Council pandering to his favor with similar offerings.
Alina slipped the garments on and studied herself in a large, bronze mirror. She tugged at the green dress, trying to smooth out any wrinkles. Finer than anything she owned, the color made her brown eyes light up like amber crystals. The dress was a close fit too, not exact, but close. Not many noblewomen sought out physical exercise like she did, something that would be much more difficult now. The deep green silk felt soft and smooth. The color seemed familiar somehow. She stared less and less at her reflection and more at the color itself. The green was piercing, cool, dazzling, almost like emeralds, like emerald eyes. The Warrior in the market. The thought chilled her, freezing her wandering hands. No, the dress was not really the same color as those woman’s eyes. Alina breathed and smoothed out the dress once more. Sh
e shook her head, trying to clear the image of the mysterious woman from her eyes.
Alina was supposed to let the maid help her put the dress on, but after years of refusing Greta’s help, she did it out of habit, though the laces in the back still needed to be tied. She fetched her jewelry, placing some of the items in a provided box and deciding to wear an old pendant her father had given her. She did not bother with silk gloves. The signet should be visible. The same maid returned to her room and helped her finish dressing and combed her hair. Alina sat dutifully at a low-backed chair and let the maid work through the knots gathered over the journey. As the woman smoothed out Alina’s hair, she said, “Welcome back to the palace, your Highness.”
Alina tried not to show a response to the comment. She suspected all the palace servants had spent days gossiping about her already. “What have you heard of my return?”
The brush faltered. “I beg your pardon, Highness. I did not mean any offense.” The brush resumed.
“But you did not answer my question,” said Alina.
“I have heard you were away for your own safety, your Highness, and the nobles have decided that you are safer here,” the maid replied.
“And the truth?”
The maid kept brushing. She cleared her throat and pulled the brush through her hair once more. “There has been talk of a power struggle.”
Alina frowned at her reflection. She had imagined the Council would not give over control of the kingdom so easily, but if the maids already whispered about it, her task might be more difficult. “That’s enough for now.” The woman stopped. Alina rose and looked the maid over. She wore a plain grey uniform and kept her plain brown hair wound up in a tight bun. Her blue eyes had a spark in them that matched the slight turn in the corner of her mouth. She had to be more shrewd than she seemed. “What is your name?”
The maid bowed. “Nin, your Majesty.”
“Nin?” Alina had never heard the name.
“Short for Ninian, your Majesty.”
“You seem to be an honest woman.”
Someone knocked on the door. “Your Highness?” a man called out. “The Council of Osota is prepared to see you.”
“See him in,” Alina said. Nin moved to the door and opened it, revealing a young guard standing at attention.
“Highness, I am here to escort you to the Council chambers.”
Alina nodded and stood. “Very well.”
The guard led Alina to a large, open chamber somewhere in the center of the palace. Pillars stretched up to support a high ceiling and a faint breeze blew in from the open windows. The guard brought her up to another guard standing at attention in front of a set of large double doors.
“I have brought her Highness as the Council requested,” he said. The other guard nodded and helped him open the large door to the chamber. A herald announced her arrival and stood aside to allow her entry. Alina had to resist the urge to squint when she stepped into the darker room. Large, heavy drapes covered most of the windows, letting a few rays of light in, but nothing more. The Council sat in a semicircle of raised daises. They stared down at her. Composed of one delegate from each of the eleven territories within the kingdom, it seemed everyone had arrived for this meeting.
“Lady Alina Alexandria Mura of Osota,” said Councilor Gosman. She remembered him vaguely from her childhood. He overlooked a large province of the heartland. “You have been summoned before us due to the recent tragedies that have befallen Osota.”
“The deaths of our monarchs, King Veston and Queen Alaina have left the people in grief,” said another Councilor. Alina did not recognize the woman. “Furthermore, it has left us in peril, disorganized and disjointed.”
Gosman spoke again, “My Lady, were you aware the monarchs left no heir?”
Alina nodded. She had to remain composed, and most importantly, harmless in their eyes. She was little more than a foreign entity to some of these people. Having been away since her childhood, she recognized few of the Councilors before her. They would regard her with suspicion, just as she would them. “I was led to believe I had no cousins.”
Gosman nodded. “Correct. You are the only surviving member of the royal bloodline, albeit the connection is thin.”
“Councilor Gosman,” barked another man. Alina recognized him as Orwall, the ambassador of the eastern corner of the heartland and the capital city. Alina had seen much of him when she was young. “Your remark goes too far. Her father was brother to Queen Alaina, hardly what I would call a thin connection and closer than Demek’s claim.”
“Council members, we will not discuss the immediate claim to rule any further,” ordered the woman who had spoken before. “This is not the purpose of today’s assembly.”
“Who else has claim to rule?” Alina asked.
The Councilors paused, as if waiting for someone else to speak up. Finally, an unknown man answered her. “My Lady—”
“Your Highness,” she corrected.
“Highness,” said the man. “While your right to rule by blood is strong, and no one questions it.” He looked at Orwall. “You must realize you are young and have been removed from the political world for some time now—”
“Which is why I had the best tutors in all subjects possible while living in isolation.”
Gosman narrowed his eyes. “What Councilor Tarish is trying to say is that we thought to have Lord Demek, the previous advisor to the king, assist with your position while the Council and Regent Velora help you prepare for this new role.” Alina had never heard of a Lord Demek.
Councilor Orwall cleared his throat. “Normally, you would have been kept close at hand in the capital and trained, should this happen, but with the assassination of your parents, it seemed wisest to remove you from court and hope their majesties would produce a royal heir.”
“But that is not the case, and I am here, fully capable and willing to learn what wisdom you have to offer and accept my duty. Who is to say this Lord Demek can lead our people better than I?”
“Sorez Demek was advisor to the late king and is a lord over one of the largest provinces in the heartland,” said Gosman.
“Which happens to be your province,” Orwall interrupted.
“Council members,” said the same delegating woman from before. “It is clear this meeting is going beyond its use. Her Highness has agreed to the tutelage from the Regent and ourselves. I suggest we save this...discussion for another time.” Alina studied the older woman. She suspected the wrinkles in the woman’s forehead were from stress more than anything else. The Councilor looked intelligent and seemed fair. The woman turned to address her. “Your Highness, we shall resume the discussion of leadership after we have had more opportunity to assess your skill and the political situation.”
Alina nodded. “Of course, Councilor,” she said in her best balanced tone. “I understand that we must do what is best for the Osota Kingdom.” She knew few of them believed her sincerity, but that was all right. She did not want their approval, just the means to keep Osota safe.
Chapter Three
THE WARRIORS STOPPED AND made camp late in the evening on their third day of travel. Valk said the capital was close, so they rode on for a few extra hours. Instead of pitching tents with the last hours of sunlight, they worked after dusk, Senri’s fingers fumbling with various pins and ropes.
One of the Warriors successfully kindled a small fire. The man swore as the embers sputtered. She could feel the faint throb of the heat as it started to give up. She dropped her supplies and turned to the pile of wood. She stuck her hand into the center, where the fragile life form flickered. Senri breathed in, and as her heart beat, the embers glowed hot, searing the wood. As she exhaled the surrounding logs caught flame. She slowly withdrew her hand from the embers, letting the flames spread and anchor themselves. The fire blazed and expelled the shadows from their campsite. Senri smiled at the young man, his name was Yahn, and turned back to her tent.
“I’m an idiot,” Yahn sa
id.
Senri laughed and looked back at him. “And why is that?”
“I have battled with this fire every night while you’re a walking flint-and-tinder.” He rubbed his forehead with an ungloved hand before running his fingers through his shaggy hair. Yahn could manipulate earth like Nat. He was older though, a big, burly man with a growing collection of scars on his arms and legs. Senri saw it as a testament to the danger of her new line of work. Fear panged through her and she looked away. She knew it was ridiculous to be afraid. She was more gifted with the sword than Nat and more in tune with her abilities.
“You need help?” Yahn’s words interrupted her dark thoughts.
She blinked and glanced back over at him. She shook her head. “No, sorry. I was lost in thought. That’s all.”
Yahn nodded. “It weighs heavy on the mind…the first few days, that is.” Senri focused on her tent supplies instead of answering. She did not want to discuss this with Yahn. She grabbed a rock and used it to drive one of the tent poles securely into the ground. He continued, “It’s not nearly as terrifying as you would think though, at least not right away. You’ll be spending most of your time training with the other initiates.”
“How big are the Warrior’s forces?” Senri asked. She wanted to change the topic.
“Oh, there’s a fair amount of us.” Senri heard him shifting around on the grass, moving away from the blazing fire. She moved to hammer in the opposite tent pole. “We take recruits from all sorts of places. Valk will have to ride out again soon to pick up some more recruits after we get back. We gained seven new initiates this year total. That’s a lot.”
Senri looked over at her new leader. Valk busied himself with finding an area to tie the horses so they could graze. He seemed to be having troubles since they were camping in an open plain. The tall grass surrounded them wherever their boots had failed to stomp it down. The sheer openness made her feel exposed. The wind blew too easily. The sky pressed down on her.
Warrior Page 3