“Sorry to keep you waiting. I was held up at the storehouse.”
Balhenhadn closed the door behind her. “I only just returned. I was summoned.”
Balhenhill raised an eyebrow. “You talked to him?”
“He hoped he could catch you as well, but his time was limited.”
“If he met with you face to face, it must have been important.”
Balhenhadn pulled a parchment from her bosom. “He commends us for collecting fish and herbs and…doing what we are doing with them.” She handed him the parchment. “And he asked a favor of us. Me, really.”
Balhenhill examined the parchment. Names. A dozen farmers. “There’s one name crossed through. Yrnjeulhadn.”
“The congresser’s stepmother.”
“What are these names? All farmers.”
“He asked me to…” She flinched. “There’s an old prayer. A prayer to dry up crop.”
“He asked you to—”
“I said yes.” They looked at one another. “For all he’s done for us. Treated me like a normal woman.”
“And these are the victims?”
“Yes, all except Yrnjeulhadn. All he could say was that there are always secret meetings and backroom deals being brokered. Betrothals.”
“If you don’t feel comfortable—”
“I’m going to do it. It’s been a while, but I remember.”
Balhenhill shook his head. “My father’s name could easily have been on this list.”
“I don’t know if this is a good or bad thing, but he specifically said your father was excluded from the list solely on account of your loyalty.” His wife hesitated. “And I had another vision. So I told him.”
“What? What was this vision?”
“Foreigners,” she uttered, horrified. “Tents. Fires. People whisper, ‘Invasion.’”
Balhenhill breathed in and out. From the kitchen, Henhall hummed a lullaby while he clumsily cut into the bass — innocent as an apple seed. Balhenhill didn’t like the idea of his wife living up to her notoriety. But their only ally in the whole colony had asked it.
“Whatever you think is right, darling.”
Chapter sixteen
Sapphire Blue
Her father stood over her. Though Falhadn looked twenty-eight, as she was in real life, her father appeared as he did twenty years ago. “You’re going to marry a nice man. A wealthy man. An important man.” He kissed her on the forehead. Falhadn thought it passing strange that her father was the same age as her, but that thought flew away as quickly as it had arrived.
Her mother, however, looked a hundred years old. “I’ll show you how to be a good wife.”
“That’s all you’re good for,” her father said.
But her mother only chuckled. “Oh, stop it.”
“I despise you. I only married you because you’re my cousin.”
Her mother simply chuckled, and her spine creaked like an iron hinge.
“Get out of here, old woman. I’m trying to speak with my daughter.” Her mother left, and her father put his strong hands on Falhadn’s bare shoulders. “Your mother can’t have any more children. And we have no son. Your mother failed me. But you are our miracle. But that means you have a responsibility to this family. You must bear a daughter who can marry one of your cousins. You must carry on the family name. You must bear me a granddaughter. A beautiful one. You must grow the family estate beyond my wildest imagination. Perhaps the king will be forced to marry my grandchild to one of his ilk. You hear that, Hullahedeen?”
“Yes, Daddy.” Falhadn heard the voice of an eight-year-old come out of her mouth. “I’ll do whatever you say.”
“Good girl.” But her father had turned into Jeulfynhall. “I’ll protect you.”
“He gets really angry.”
“I’ll stay by your side.” Jeulfynhall was her father’s sole household guardsman. “He won’t dare hit you if I’m there beside you.”
“He’ll make you leave.”
“Then you’ll come with me.”
“I don’t want to leave. I just don’t want him to get so angry anymore. It’s my fault. I disobey him. I forget my place.”
Jeulfynhall drew his sword. “He can’t hurt you if you have no head.” He swung the sword and split the flesh at Falhadn’s neck.
She woke up in her own bed. Heavy sweat, heavy breath, jackrabbit heartbeat, eyes wide, frightened as a fish in a net. Her only clothes were black linens wrapped about her breasts and her waist. She looked beside her. Falhill, wide awake. He stared at her, more confused than concerned. Down his cheeks, the residue of salty tears.
“Falhadn? What’s the matter?”
“Were you crying again?”
“I was asleep.”
“It’s been more than a month.”
He sat up, met her eye level. “That was a man’s life. Two men. With families.”
“You defended yourself against Henhall. He tried to kill me. Your wife. You had to.”
“How old was he? Twenty-two?”
“And unmarried.”
“How can you be so heartless? You don’t understand.” Falhill laid back down.
Falhadn went to hit him again but stopped herself. Her heart slowed. She descended to his side. She wrapped her arm around her husband. “And Hrabhill threatened to kill you. He said those horrible things about Primhadn.”
“And you wanted me to send Kraek a message.”
“I’m sorry if I pushed you too hard.” She caressed Falhill’s bare shoulders, down his arm. “Look, it’s been more than a month. Kraek hasn’t acted out. Traamis still supports the congress.”
“When I pass Balhenhill in the streets, I can’t help but think, ‘I killed your brother’. Yes, it was in self-defense, but we lied about it. Forced Aerhall to lie about it.”
“You don’t have to worry about all that.” Falhadn moved her hand to his chest.
Falhill turned to face her, confused once more. “What are you doing?”
“This is our last night in this hovel,” she answered. Over the past month, mansions had been built on the southern border — one for each congresser. Tomorrow, the congressers would move their belongings from their hovels into the new houses — five times larger. “I know I can be distant.”
Falhill laughed — the first time in a month. “Distant? You can be cold.”
She pinched his cheek. “I know I can be cold. But I think what you did was brave.”
He stared at her with those hazel eyes. “Why are you…?” His words trailed off into a moan as Falhadn’s fingers circled his navel.
“I think I’m just now figuring out what it means to be a wife.”
“We’ve been married for four solar cycles.”
“And we’ve been through a lot. My miscarriage. My…other miscarriage. Your parents. Enesma.” The affair, she almost revealed. “Everything.” She hadn’t seen her lover since Falhill took matters into his own hands. She had even avoided him, which proved difficult. But he had taken the hint. Falhill was a new man.
“I never stopped loving you.”
“I love you, Falhill.”
Falhill looked near to tears. Falhadn turned him around and kissed him. She dug her nails into the skin of his back. She bit his lip, and he winced in pain. But she didn’t stop.
Falhadn flung the furs from the bed. Falhill wore only a beige linen about his waist. She climbed atop of her husband.
In matching white fur robes, she led her husband north. Now the night air tickled at Falhadn’s cheeks, and the black silence gave way to crunching sand and rock underfoot. When they passed Sarahill’s tavern, only Sarahill himself remained — sweeping the portico. He waved at the couple but did not notice they wore no shoes. In the town square, the simpleton Rudrud snored with his harp tangled in between his fingers.
In the past month, some farms had come down with blight. Berut’s crop had withered. Kraekhadn’s farmstead wasted away. Hraena could not save his corn, but his wheat continued t
o struggle along. Many farms continued to thrive, but she couldn’t help but notice the ten or so farms affected belonged to Kraek’s allies. But she pushed the thought from her mind.
They followed the Azure Artery past the colony’s storehouse, more farms, and a small watchtower which marked the northeast border of Independence. Falhadn pulled her husband into the Northwood, past the ancient yew where she taught her students. The trees grew thicker, more frequent. The forest grew denser, and the moonlight faded.
“I didn’t bring a sword,” Falhill whispered. When she didn’t answer, he continued, “It’s dangerous out here. Bears have been spotted this far into the woods.”
But Falhadn followed the dual circles she had marked on the tree bark four months ago. She had to squint, but she knew the way by now. Two dozen times she had followed the path.
And the beige structure ringed in hieroglyphs appeared in a clearing. The moonlight shone brightly against the dull blue runes. The circular edifice had not changed since she last met her lover here. She squeezed Falhill’s hand and guided him into the structure.
Falhadn tiptoed up the staircase. The second story remained as she had last seen it. In the middle of the room sat a large circular table. The smell of dust and cobwebs cut through the fresh air which gusted in through a hole in the wall that served as a window.
She turned to Falhill and let her white fur robe fall to the ground. He studied her every inch. He sighed. “You’ve always been the most beautiful woman in the world.” A distant howl drew a gasp from Falhill. “You know, the last time I came to this building, I slew a bear.”
“You did? By yourself?”
“Well, Slumswain and Denhall were with me. But I saved them when I stuck my blade in its heart.”
“You saved Denhall from a bear? The hunter Denhall?”
He approached her. “I did. I knew what I had to do, so I did it.” He threw his robe across the room. “If one came in here right now, I’d fight it off with my bare hands.”
Falhadn pulled him close. She held his neck and drew his cheek against hers. Threads of sinew had swollen Falhill’s lanky frame. Muscles bulged from each arm. His shoulders seemed to broaden. His stomach bore the suggestion of abdominal brawn.
In between kisses, a cool summer breeze brushed across Falhadn’s bare shoulders. She shivered. “Falhill, take me outside.” Down the stairs, they left footprints in the dust. They stepped outside, and the grass crunched beneath Falhadn’s toes. “Remember the night of our wedding?”
“How could I forget? The mansion on the beach.”
“My parents insisted on giving us the gold to rent it, but you cobbled together your own coin and rejected their offer.”
“I wanted to provide for you, not take your father’s gold.”
Falhadn’s heart quickened, and she pinned him against the outer wall. Another howl, this time closer. The leaves rustled in the breeze, and Falhadn’s skin crawled. Husband and wife, as Hrash intended.
Falhadn cried out — no matter if some beast heard her. Her husband felt powerful again. He bit at her neck, and she grasped his waist. Pulses of desire and ecstasy seemed to vibrate under her skin.
And Falhill’s face shone blue. Not the blue of the moon. Some effervescent sapphire blue. Every tree throbbed the same shade of blue. Engulfed in rapturous pleasure, Falhill stumbled to the ground, and Falhadn dropped on top of him. They smiled at one another, their marriage seemingly rekindled. Their carnal delight shut out the confusion — perhaps horror. The dull blue runes about the structure of unknown origins pulsated. Sapphire blue light, like a heartbeat, lit up the Northwood. Something profoundly alien — sinister, ominous — had imparted a foreign magic into this building. But Falhadn did not care. Her husband was strong again.
Part III
The Segchyhah
from the diary of Scribe Nudntry-bal the younger
…to properly honor the legendary tenure of Salyryd the Roamer. To say her term was worth remembering for time immemorial would be an understatement.
Near the beginning of her tenure, Salyryd gave away the last city of the Segchyhah to the Panthir king, altering the nature of the Segchyhah for decades to come. Likely forever, though I regret I cannot personally see into the future. Opponents called her Salyryd the Roamer, but she wore the name like a badge of honor.
Salyryd transformed the Segchyhah from a world power into the world power. Without a stationary home, how could you defeat them? With so many kings in their favor, how could you oppose them? With the vastest influence of any people in history, how could you compete with the Segchyhah?
Well, that brings us to Congresser Kraek, who tried. I will never forget the morning when my uncle brought me to the Independence courthouse, only to find Kraek had savagely…
Chapter seventeen
Alien
All Laebm wanted was to be with Theral. Or to see his sister or grandson once more. He would have settled for a lazy glass of blood red wine. But he had a duty.
Each twenty feet apart, torches flickered in a haphazard line as far as the eye could see. Finishing this long task pleased Laebm Lionheart. Nothing could breach Hrashhill’s open western border unseen. Already, the eastern and northern borders glimmered with flame every evening, and tall torches floated on buoys in the southern sea. But Laebm and his men had finally completed the circuit.
Whilst Kraekhill, Shelraadifhall, and one-armed Yeznahill kept watch on the northeast border, Laebm sentineled the southwest — along with Primhill and Laebmhill. The lofty tower — Northeast-on-the-Hill — remained unlit, as did the high tower Laebm sat near — Southwest-by-the-Sea. There brewed no trouble on this windy eventide.
“I prefer the southwest watch,” Primhill sighed. “The sound of high tide relaxes me.” The twenty-five-year-old soldier drew his sword, stuck it in the ground, and leaned on its hilt. “Primhadn was fond of spending an afternoon on the beaches.”
Laebm knew his swordbrother’s wife had sacrificed herself in the final battle on Old Coast, in order for a shipful of protestants to escape unharmed. A bona fide tragedy.
Laebm had gone on living after his wife drowned herself. “Hysteria,” the midwife had told him, “trauma after such an arduous labor.” Laebm supposed he had seen it coming, though that did not prepare him to raise a child on his own.
Laebmhill had grown from that frightened newborn baby into a strapping young man, a few years younger than Primhill. “I haven’t seen Laebmhadn for some time now. Nor our four-year-old son. Life boils down to tragedy after tragedy.” The smell of drink emanated from Laebm’s son, as it did most every day. “She doesn’t deserve that baby’s love, and she will raise him to despise his father.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” Primhill said. “Some of our fellow humans are no more than monsters in human flesh.”
Laebm knew that his son exaggerated. Laebmhill left his wife and babe to live with his mistress in Tattendael — though she would die of the pox soon thereafter. A wonder he wasn’t infected as well. And by that time, Laebmhill had no opportunity to return to his wife before joining his father’s rebellious turn in Anang. Even if he had the chance, Laebm doubted that his weddaughter would have taken his drunkard son back under her roof. “A woman can be a beautiful creature, or simply a creature.”
Primhill readjusted himself against the hilt of his longsword. “I dreamt of growing old with her…” He stared at the numerous stars. “She saw these very stars, and yet they dare shine on after she is no more.”
Laebm exhaled deeply. “These stars watched down on us when our grandfather’s grandfather had not yet been conceived. And they will stand sentinel over our grandchildren’s grandchildren.”
“Sentinels,” Primhill whispered with a chuckle, “just like us.”
Laebm’s lips stretched into a tired smile. “I think of the stars as soldiers of the sky. Makes me feel more self-important.”
Young Laebmhill laughed. “Utter nonsense, father. The wise men know that the stars are
far away moons. The sky is not alive, and it doesn’t need watching.” He laughed once more.
“He attended the finest school in Eangd,” Laebm told Primhill, “and yet his head is full of sewage.” He scoffed. “Wise men? ‘The wise men.’ What happened to your father being a wise man?” Laebm had to force himself to laugh. His son had grown into somewhat of a disaster.
Many nights, the memory of Laebmhill and little Balhenhedeen at Caln and Glaad’s wedding would haunt Laebm. In front of hundreds, his son had drunkenly started to play a game of kisses with the twelve-year-old. And Laebm heard similar tales in Baeldaan and Eangd before that. He chose to ignore them, but his ire flashed the night of the wedding.
Laebm had pulled his son away from the festivities and beaten the boy within an inch of death. Twenty years old, and his son still needed sense beaten into him. “It didn’t mean anything!” Laebmhill had cried in between lashes. “It was a game!” Even after the beating was taken, Laebm couldn’t shake the thought that his son was enough of an idiot to become a monster.
“You’re wise, Father,” Laebmhill slurred. “Wise as a king.”
“Which king?” Primhill replied, and they all three shared a laugh.
Obviously hungry for some sense of recognition, Primhill eased into a war story his very own. Primhill did not possess very many since he had lived his soldier’s life in the mostly peaceful Enesma. The twenty-five-year-old possessed only two tales from the battlefront, and Laebm Lionheart had heard them both multiple times. But details crept in and out with each retelling. Laebm enjoyed puzzling out the truth of repeated stories.
“The Battle on the Eel Road, Henhadn named it afterwards. Yrnhill the younger and I were both eager to prove our mettle, I’m embarrassed to admit.” Primhill scratched inside his nostrils. “But when my wedfather Fal the First heard word that a century of kingsmen headed up the Eel Road, Yrnhill and I knew it was our chance.”
The Heirs of History: A Nation From Nothing Page 20