Coven Queen
Page 17
He finally spoke.
“Are you all right? How do you feel about it?”
She felt her eyebrows raise. Jularra took a deep breath, then let out an involuntary, “Ha!” She looked down as she spoke softly. Almost to herself.
“Your first concern is if I’m all right…”
She looked at Korden.
“I’m relieved, I think.”
Korden swallowed, and his stance loosened. Jularra stuck her hand in a sack of flour waiting to be loaded into the nearby wagons, and let it trickle out of her hands.
“You know I hate… not having a say in my fate. I hate not having choices. Not having options. But I think I’ve come to appreciate that, somehow. If it means our people survive—to the next month, the next year, the next generation—then that’s always the decision I would want to make. Choice is an afterthought.”
Jularra watched as Korden dropped his head. He nodded a bit to himself, and then they both turned to look at the grain wagons. The creaking of the wheels as they rolled was one of the sweetest sounds she had heard in a long while.
“What are your plans, then?” he asked. They both continued to stare at the caravan of wagons.
Jularra played with another palmful of flour. She shrugged.
“I’ll go back to Morganon and have the child. And then, later on, I’ll…”
Her mind stumbled as she tried to finish her statement. Korden stirred and turned away from watching the wagons, fumbling around with his saddle and fidgeting in his armor.
“Will you help me raise her? Until that time comes?”
Her voice was uncharacteristically soft and demure. It was soaked in the wisdom and strength of maternal power and possibility. Jularra’s thoughts on the future were now centered only around her unborn child, and the people of Acorilan.
Korden started to settle. He rolled his head around and turned back to the wagons.
“I will,” he said firmly.
Her bottom lip twitched. Once. Her other features stood their ground. She shuffled softly over to Korden and gently grasped his hand. With no fanfare or theatrics, she lifted his hand up in the small space between them and kissed the back of it, before lowering it and releasing it. She stepped back to the nearby wagon.
“Make sure these supplies are protected and distributed as discussed,” she ordered.
Korden cleared his throat. “Yes, of course.”
“Like you said,” Jularra added, “the reports indicate there is plenty enough to go around. Let’s make sure no one goes without.”
“Understood.”
“What’s the latest on any remaining resistance?” Jularra continued down her ever-evolving list of concerns.
“Well, the previous reports that had the lion’s share of Torgurian armies already in Brinnock are holding. We’ve converted most who weren’t killed during the attack, but our scouts now say as many as two thousand are still spread out along the outlying counties.”
“Two thousand?” Jularra whispered in shock. “That’s up quite a bit from the last estimate. How large a concern are they?”
“They could pose a threat if they’re consolidated and organized.”
“Then let’s do all that we can to ensure they don’t consolidate or organize.”
“Right.” Korden nodded. “We’ve about finished shoring up Brinnock’s defenses. And a few thousand of our people are already fortified in the city. We’ve also made sure the garrison is made up of a healthy mix from our various counties so the lords will remain invested in maintaining our hold on Brinnock.”
“But what about those outlying areas?”
“Once we leave Brinnock properly defended, we can establish or fortify existing garrisons to watch over roads and fords. After that, we can take pre-emptive action on any remaining resistance.”
Jularra rubbed her eyes as she thought. “Do you think we should root them out sooner rather than later?”
“We could, but I’d feel better if we finished securing what we’ve taken before engaging in any new conflicts. Especially since it’s such a large area.”
“I agree. I don’t think we have enough information on what’s left to push out to the borders. Finish securing Brinnock, and establish or fortify those outer garrisons. Maintain regular rotations of scouts to confirm what’s left out there.”
Korden bowed his head as a mixed group of Spire and Bedrock turned a corner and spotted their queen. The group pulled to a halt and enthusiastically leapt to attention in their respective group’s appropriate posture.
Jularra smiled widely at the sight. She waved her hand. “Carry on!”
The group of men and women responded with their combined greetings of respect.
“'Zah!”
“Strike!”
Jularra turned to Korden, beaming with pride, but as the Bedrock and Spire passed, something else drew Jularra’s attention.
Out from a nearby alleyway plodded a sizeable group of approximately fifty naked men, all chained and shackled together at the hands and ankles. Once they had emerged into the square, a smaller group of strapping men, all clothed, held the ends of chains and ropes. Immediately behind the dressed men followed Bolblissa, a woman known well to aristocratic circles throughout Acorilan and arguably the most successful procuress in the region.
Jularra watched curiously as the group walked on, but finally acted on her intention to speak up.
“Whoa!” Jularra boomed.
Almost everyone nearby turned to look, though most kept walking, including the group of men, Bolblissa, and her assistants.
“You, there. Stop!” Jularra commanded. She looked at Korden, silently beckoning him to follow her.
They marched over to the naked men. As they approached, Bolblissa swung out confidently from the back to intercept the queen. Bolblissa’s face was hard to read. Jularra knew the madam had years of shrewd negotiations and autonomous survival under her belt.
“Your Majesty,” Bolblissa began, “let me congratulate you again on the—”
“Who are these men?” Jularra interrupted tersely.
Bolblissa shuffled her feet for only the length of a blink before replying.
“Ah, yes, these are some native Torgurians, my queen.”
Jularra went from considering the men's faces to a hateful glare at Bolblissa.
“If you waste my time with such a flippant answer again, I’ll have you in shackles yourself. Now tell me: why are these men naked, why are they shackled, and why are you with them?”
Bolblissa smiled at the queen’s assertiveness and licked her lips.
“These were some of the men defeated during the siege of Brinnock, Your Majesty. I have arranged to put them in my service.”
Jularra snapped her eyes to Korden, then back to Bolblissa.
“Put them in your service,” Jularra echoed. “As paid employees, you mean?”
Bolblissa bit her lip and shuffled her feet again. Jularra didn’t let her reply.
“Why would paid employees be in shackles without the dignity of undergarments, hmm?”
Bolblissa attempted to rattle off her justification. “Your Majesty, this isn’t Acorilan, and these men are Torgur—”
Jularra whipped back, slamming the back of her fist into Bolblissa’s jaw. Bolblissa was knocked sideways, before crashing into the legs of the men she’d hoped to use as sex slaves.
“The day I took Brinnock,” Jularra said loudly, “was the day Brinnock became a city of Acorilan.”
Bolblissa glared up at her with furious eyes and a bloody mouth. Jularra bent down to educate her further.
“And in Acorilan,” Jularra continued, “there is no slavery, and there are no unpaid sex workers.”
Jularra held Bolblissa’s cold stare.
“Should I have my scribe send you a copy of my decree on this matter?”
Bolblissa shook her head, once. Jularra motioned for a pair of Bedrock to approach.
“Take these men, unshackle them, and have t
hem dressed,” she directed. “You all were members of the Brinnock defense?” she asked of the group.
Most nodded or mumbled answers to the affirmative.
“Right,” she acknowledged, turning back to the Bedrock. “See to it that they are found work, if not with the Bedrock, at least in the regular infantry. If there are any problems, have them directed to Korden or myself.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” one of the Bedrock complied.
Korden pointed at himself, suggesting to the Bedrock that he be notified first.
“I apologize on behalf of this… ambitious woman for her disrespect, gentlemen,” Jularra offered.
The group of Torgurians began to shuffle away, led by their Bedrock escorts. Other than Korden, a pair of Spire remained by Jularra’s side. While looking at Bolblissa, she gave the Spire their own order.
“Make sure that she is returned to Morganon. Or anywhere that isn’t here.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the Spire complied.
Korden couldn’t help but laugh softly as Bolblissa was helped to her feet and ushered away. Jularra heard him and smiled through her own irritation.
“I know,” she said to him. “Even in a world made from scraps, some vultures need to be told what not to pick at.”
Jularra sighed to clear her mind as another group of Spire and Bedrock walked past.
“As I was saying,” she said with another huff to resume their previous topic, “I can’t tell you how proud I am. They took my orders to wage a pre-emptive attack on an otherwise friendly nation and executed them with surgical accuracy and veteran efficiency—despite not being involved in a major battle in years.”
“You sound surprised. I’m not.”
Jularra raised an enquiring eyebrow.
“They had a true, good reason, provided by a great leader,” he added. “Our people needed food. It was either take it, or starve. Many of them would probably say there was no choice.”
She smiled at Korden, blinking rapidly.
“And I know they are proud of you,” he added.
Jularra swallowed and surveyed the streets and corridors of Brinnock as Korden’s words soaked in. She began to itch with discomfort from his praise.
“Your illusion allowed us to get in quickly and gain control. You say others minimized the loss of life on both sides, but you deserve most of that credit. We’re already hearing that our cause is being received well by many of the Torgurians.”
Jularra grunted at the irony.
“The conqueror, celebrated by the conquered. I’ve always found that a curious thing.”
Korden looked up through Brinnock’s tall, red towers. Jularra tracked his line of sight. Squares of lattice wrapped in ivy and flowers extended out every dozen or so feet from each tower, creating a tiled effect on the ground below, alternating between squares of sun and shadow.
“Well, from what I’ve gathered, it’s apparently been a while since Brinnock had any meaningful direction or ambition,” he said. “They’re glad we’re here. And your treatment of the civilians—and even their armies—has earned you even more respect.”
Jularra rolled her head from side to side, stretching while she thought. She shifted one foot into the shade, even as she turned her face towards the sun.
***
Jularra, Korden and a sizable group of Acorilan’s armies made the trek back towards Morganon via the old Catahba Road.
Catahba Road had been established centuries ago—before the Torgurians built Brinnock—as a means for the Acorilinians to reach their holdings in present-day Yubik. The road had fallen into disuse since Jularra returned the Crystal Expanse to the Yubik; regardless, it was their most direct path home.
After a few days of easy marching, the Acorilinians came into acres of overgrowth surrounding the northernmost branch of the Cukenipi River. They were forced to slow down as they made their way through the brush and across the shallow riverbed.
Jularra and Korden sat atop their horses, reviewing their people as they made the ford.
“I thought the road would’ve been far worse before now,” said Korden.
“Mmm,” Jularra murmured in agreement. “But let’s make sure we get it back into pristine shape. We won’t be using it to get to Yubik anymore, but we’ll need it for Brinnock.”
“Right.”
Jularra shifted and turned casually in her saddle. I know there's one here somewhere.
“Sunpost?” Korden asked.
“Mm-hmm.”
“I saw it earlier,” he said, trying to place it again. “Ah! It’s over there, by the apple trees.”
They trotted over to it. As soon as she saw the time, she looked up, a plan already finalizing in her mind.
“I’m going to break off after we cross,” she said.
Korden frowned slightly. “Going to see Vylas?”
Jularra nodded. “I want to tell him the news.”
“Of course.”
Jularra’s head drooped as she sighed.
“What?” Korden pressed.
“I need to make a stop along the way.”
Korden looked at her, puzzled, but quickly settled in understanding.
“It’s time for a renewal visit. I guess I’ll… tell it, too. If it doesn’t already know.”
Jularra waited to see if there was anything else he wanted to say. Korden deflated with shared sadness, but then nodded.
“Let’s just… make sure everyone gets home safe,” Jularra said. “And again, see that the crops and food get distributed equitably.”
Korden bowed his head and steered his horse back to the river.
Acorilan’s returning forces finished crossing the Cukenipi and continued along Catahba Road, while Jularra took a direct route to the Vacant Grave along Gaimge Trail. It was a challenging path, rocky and steep, but Jularra took advantage of the time alone.
For most of the ride, Jularra’s mind was covered in a surreal film of disbelief. She had struggled her entire life to be her own person, independent of the pact and her crown. But there on the trail to the Vacant Grave, she found herself pregnant, and resigned to follow the example of a hundred previous queens. Her mind labored to shift from a mindset of choice to one of destiny.
But as she had tried to convey to Korden recently, choice was an afterthought when it came to the safety of her people. In that regard, she had chosen. She chose to perpetuate the agreement, and in doing so, chose to protect her people.
She wandered in and out of philosophy and rhetorical considerations as she grew closer to the Vacant Grave. She even found herself looking forward. Indeed, she looked forward to looking forward. The acquisition of Brinnock would bring new life to Morganon and Acorilan as a whole. And she had an entire decade to look forward to with the child now growing within.
My child.
Her thoughts drifted to memories of her mother.
***
Young Jularra sat with her mother in their impromptu workshop at the top of the residence tower. The winter sun had just slipped down behind the mountains. Her skin tightened from the quick drop in temperature, and the increasing breeze made the smell of pine more pronounced. On the table in front of them was the culmination of many similar evenings together. Next to an open-topped, black walnut box Amala had just finished sanding was an intricate top made of cherry. The final figure had been carved, and Jularra clapped her hands and bolted for her mother.
Amala let out an “Ooph!” as her smiling daughter landed in her lap. Jularra wondered if she was getting too big for such playfulness, but quickly dismissed the notion.
“We finally finished, Mama! It’s done!”
“Yes, it is,” she replied, starting with a full voice that cracked into an emotional whisper. With one arm she held Jularra close, and leaned in to place the top on the box. They stared collectively at the completed reliquary. Amala then cleared her throat to regain a bit of volume before continuing.
“Now remember, even though it is finished, we still need to hav
e it blessed by someone with Representation before it will ever be more than just a box. And once that happens, if you study, practice, and exhibit legitimate respect, you may be lucky enough to be visited—in person, or through your reliquary. And I hope you are, my sweet child. Dozens of times, or more! The Gifts seem to be becoming less and less common...”
“Yes, mother,” Jularra complied obediently. “But I… I have forgotten some of the steps. What are they again?”
“Well, tell me what you remember,” her mother instructed, wriggling out from beneath her daughter.
Jularra tingled with guilt. She remembered less than she let on.
“Um. First, we must ask a Representative to bless the reliquary.”
“Mm-hmm,” her mother confirmed, prompting her to continue. Amala took a candle out of a nearby sconce and began to circle the room, lighting the others for the evening.
“Once a Representative agrees, we must take the reliquary to the stump of the tree that was used to make it—"
Her mother interrupted. “Wait. What if we did not fell the tree, or do not know the spot where the tree was felled?”
“Then we should ask the carpenter that provided the wood if he knows.”
“Correct. And if the carpenter does not remember?”
Jularra hesitated and started to pick at her lip. She looked to her mother in shameful silence. Amala sighed before gently admonishing her daughter.
“Jularra, we must make every effort to fell the tree ourselves. If you ever need, or want, to make a replacement reliquary, or need to teach others, you must select the tree and bring it down yourself, like we did the tree for this reliquary. Only if someone is entirely unable to bring a tree down on their own should they source the wood from a merchant or carpenter. If the wood supplier cannot direct you to the stump of the source tree, then, and only then, must the person performing the blessing select an alternative stump—one they know has been used in other blessings.”
Amala ran out of breath and sucked in a gulp of air before huffing it back out in frustration.
“It is terribly important that you memorize this process, dear one. You must memorize this, and so much more, if you are ever to grow in your knowledge.”