by Jeramy Goble
“Well, you know what the pact says about that. But we’re not at that point yet. As it is right now, you are childless, and the Voidwarden is none the wiser. We’re still here. 'What ifs' are worthless,” Vylas replied. “They do no good for anyone.”
“I know that, Vylas. But it isn’t for me. It’s a 'what if' for our people.”
Vylas had no rebuttal.
“They deserve it,” she continued. “They deserve the consideration. The extrapolation.”
Night was on its way, and the increasing cricket chirps brought it to both their attention. Vylas leaned in towards the fire and scanned the floor, searching for how he felt. His eyes circled the room and settled back on the fire.
“Imagine the worst,” he said in a dark whisper. The fire’s harmless light flaunted itself in his eyes, while warning against the pain of its flame.
“Never let it get the best of you,” he added.
Twelve
Jularra flung the jumble of blankets and quilts back, agitated. What started as occasional tossing in the middle of the night had evolved into a magnified awareness of pain and soreness that lasted well past dawn. She slowly dropped her legs over the side of the bed and sat up, cringing and wincing the whole way. She managed to lean forward, but as she went to stand up, an invisible punch to the gut racked her tender innards. She teetered towards the bedpost.
Stretching slowly, she waited for any more pains to make themselves known, probing her belly and lower abdomen with her fingertips.
Wrapped in a quilt once again, Jularra shuffled into the house’s main room. Through heavy eyes, she spied Vylas sleeping in the chair she had rested in the night before. Beyond him, her clothes lay drying on the front window ledge.
She hobbled over to the window, trying to make her steps find a rhythm that minimized her pain. She reached for her clothes and nodded at the rooster just outside the window. After returning to the bedroom to dress, she tiptoed back over to Vylas and leaned down.
“I'd better get back,” she said, kissing him on the forehead. “Thank you, Vylas.”
His eyes opened a sliver before closing again.
“Want some breakfast?” he mumbled.
“No,” she whispered. “Go back to sleep.”
Jularra grinned weakly when he replied with a burst of snoring.
She headed outside, then looked down and pinched at her clothes to examine them in the light of day. Vylas had gotten most of the blood out. She'd bled the entire ride from Morganon; that, along with her sojourn in the river, would have prevented the blood from ever really setting. She cringed when she thought about her saddle. And her horse.
It turned out Vylas had rinsed those, too. Jularra gave her head a quick shake of gratitude. After studying her stirrups, she gingerly climbed up and set out for Morganon.
***
The return trip felt almost as bad as her ride in. But instead of the contorting spasms and cramps, each jiggle and stomp of the horse made every inch of her insides—from her ribcage down—throb with a stabbing soreness. That the ride home was missing the fear and panic from the day before made the journey no less miserable.
Jularra broke through the trees as she had hundreds of times before, but veered away from the main gates, heading instead for a small postern gate guarded by two Spire. One of the guards stepped out as she approached.
The Spire placed her hand on her sword, about to challenge the approach of a stranger, but she immediately let go and bowed upon recognizing her queen.
“Good morning, Your Majes—”
Jularra flung up her hand. “Shh. No. Thank you, but no.”
The guard faltered, but Jularra was already moving to dismount. As she leaned over and swung her leg around, her aching insides twisted. The jolt of agony buckled the leg holding her weight; her horse shied, and Jularra tumbled down to smack against the ground on her back. The two Spire ran over.
“No, I’m fine,” she cried. “Just let me be.” Jularra sighed up at the sky, then added, “Can one of you go after my horse, please?”
“Yes, of course, my queen.”
One of the Spire jogged off. The other leaned over. Jularra looked up at her.
“Just… let me rest here a moment.”
The remaining Spire shuffled her feet before looking around awkwardly.
“Your Majesty?”
Jularra relented and lifted her hand for assistance. As Jularra came to her feet with the aid of the Spire, she patted the young guard on the back and nodded at her before limping into the castle.
With numbed pride and bruised body, she walked through the narrow service corridors and out into the quiet walkways adjacent to the towers. Her skin tingled with anxiety's cold itch. She didn’t know what to say to Korden, or how to say it. Nor was she in the mood for possible conversations if she took the lifts, so she trudged up the stairs.
As she reached the top, she shoved open the door, almost hitting Korden just inside. It scared her more than it did him. She swallowed, feeling more timid in his presence than she ever had before.
“Already up?” Korden asked.
Jularra froze, and his playful grin slid away almost as quickly as it appeared. She looked through him as her brain struggled for something to say. Korden spoke again, flatly.
“Jularra?”
Jularra cleared her throat and looked away. She frowned and blinked rapidly, daring her watering eyes to let go. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Shame overwhelmed her. Loss weighed her down.
I failed my people. I used Korden, and I failed him too!
She kept her eyes downcast. Her breathing quickened. She wanted to puke and scream; to punch and kill.
“I lost the baby,” she whispered.
Only then did she look at him. Once she did, she couldn’t hold back any more. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
Swallowing hard against the lump in her throat, she watched Korden’s mouth open as he stared at her. He took a sharp breath, as if his body had to remind him to breathe. Then he stepped closer and cupped her face, averting his eyes as he wiped her tears.
Before he stepped back from her, Jularra saw his own eyes water. She wanted to fall to his feet, to scream and cry. I’m so sorry I lost our baby! I’m sorry I had to use you - and now, for no reason! I’m so fucking sorry!
But instead, her jaw trembled. Her teeth clamped down on her bottom lip, just shy of drawing blood. She refused to surrender her composure completely.
Korden placed a hand on the nearby wall, leaned into it, and stared at it for what seemed like hours. As Jularra waged her own internal battle against her emotions, Korden finally turned back to her.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She let out a soft cry that was part-chuckle, part-sob. Once again, his first thought was concern for her. She nodded, her jaw still quivering. Korden looked back to the wall for a minute, but turned back.
“When?”
“Yesterday,” she said. His concern humbled and relaxed her, and she was having to fight back tears again. “Vylas couldn’t stop it. I just… lost it.”
Korden looked her up and down.
Don’t hug me. Don’t, she begged.
“Why didn’t you tell me, or send for me?” His voice was soft, but regretful.
She could only shake her head and shrug.
Korden’s lips tightened. He huffed out a breath and launched into a pacing circle. He stopped after one loop.
“What now?” he asked.
Jularra swiped her eyes with her palms.
“There’s not enough time to… try again. Even if I conceived today the child would be weeks shy of ten by the deadline.”
“Won’t the Voidwarden find out?” Korden wondered.
“Vylas thought of that. He made me a potion that should fool it into thinking I’m still pregnant.”
Korden nodded, rubbing his cheek absentmindedly.
“What happens if it wears off?”
Jularra shrugged. “It wi
ll last through the next few months,” she said. “Only when I fail to deliver will it learn the truth, and…”
“Destroy us,” Korden finished.
Jularra nodded.
“Do we know what will happen? Or rather, how it will happen?” he asked. “Is there anything we can do to prepare? To give ourselves a chance?”
“The terms of the original pact are fairly ambiguous, but I'll go into the vaults and review it again. It’s been a while since I’ve looked at it.”
Korden dropped his arms and stared straight at her.
“Well, regardless of what it says, we'll just have to kill it before it kills us.” Korden's voice scraped with a morbid determination.
“That’s the only option left,” she agreed. “I’ve got to find a way.”
Korden raised an eyebrow. “You?” he repeated. “You aren’t alone in this, Jularra.”
Jularra blew past his question.
“Vylas told me of his old friend, Leona. She’s immensely powerful. She might know something that can help me.”
Korden tilted his head. “Help you?”
She ignored his pointed look and took off past him down the corridor. As she marched, she moved on with her line of thinking before peeling off into her strategy room.
“I’ll set out with a small complement of Bedrock and Spire in approximately two weeks, and make for the Crystal Expanse.”
She fumbled through a few maps, unrolled one and started pointing at landmarks and roads.
“A few days before my group leaves,” she continued, “I’ll send a larger force ahead of us to serve as scouts, and to perform some initial reconnaissance in Messyleio.”
“Wait, wait…”
Korden leaned in as if trying to hear missing details.
“Why does it sound like you’re not including me on this trip?”
Jularra hesitated, then looked him in the eye.
“I need you to stay behind and watch the cit—”
“You are out of your fucking mind if you think you’re not taking me.”
“Korden. There’s no one else I can trust with Morganon's safety in my absence. No one.”
“And you would travel the width of the continent without me? Your Chief Advisor? There is no one more capable of ensuring your safety!”
Jularra held up her hands.
“I can bring a wealth of expert protection along, and send hundreds of extremely capable warriors ahead of me, but there is no one else I can trust to govern the city. I need you here!”
Her voice bit at the walls and ricocheted back with a crisp echo. She knew Korden saw this as yet another method of keeping him at a distance, but she didn’t care. I need you to see that you have more important tasks than being at my side!
“Chief Advisor, I am ordering you to remain inside the city as its protector in my stead.”
Korden leaned on the table and dropped his head. Then he balled up his fist and bashed the miniature Danwenglen Mountains to crumbs with six devastating slams. He spun around and responded with his back to Jularra.
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
He paced the room. Each of his heavy stomps caused the floor to groan.
Jularra tried to relax, and forced lightness into her tone.
“Now, can I show you my plans for Yubik?”
Korden circled around, still pacing.
“I can’t fucking believe this,” he mumbled.
Jularra bit her tongue, permitting his final outburst.
After another lap, Korden returned to the table with slow, deliberate steps. Jularra took that as her cue to continue.
“As I said, I plan on sending a group ahead of mine, to scout and prepare for my arrival in Messyleio. Since they’re leaving sooner, they’ll have time to follow Moraine Trail down around the tip of Yubik, then work their way back up through Fordail before passing into Hignriten.”
Korden was all business—brief and brusque. “Why not just have them cut through our old holdings there?” he asked.
“I thought of that,” she said. “I don’t want to upset our relationship with Yubik if they’re caught. They’ll have enough time to go around.”
“Can’t you all just travel by an energy pass?”
“No. Not enough of the Ridgerazers have recovered yet.”
Korden shifted. “So, how are you going to get there?”
“My group and I will be taking Catahba Road to the Crystal Expanse.”
“And if you’re caught?”
“I’m planning on that, actually,” Jularra said. “I’m assuming we will be met by the Yubik fairly quickly after crossing the border. But my group will be traveling openly. Once we’re stopped, I’ll say that I’m on my way to Messyleio and had hoped for a brief audience to give my regards.”
“So, if you survive the road. If you aren’t killed when crossing the border. If you’re granted an audience… what will you tell them the audience is for?”
“Oh, I’ll just come up with some fluffy shit they want to hear—that I’m so glad we’ve been able to maintain our friendship for so long, perhaps. Or that I hope their people are doing well. Offer some new terms of trade that I’ll come up with sometime between now and then. Anything. Whatever.”
Korden muttered inaudibly.
“Once we’re granted permission to continue, we’ll come off the glacier here, shoot through Pestle Pass where the Worcone Wood is the thinnest, and then follow the Drunken Gullies to the border of Hignriten, before making our way to Messyleio.”
“And after that?” he prodded.
“That’s what we are least prepared for. Hopefully the group that gets there ahead of me will have uncovered something to act on, but the objective will be to locate Leona, and glean anything I can on how to defeat the Voidwarden, or at least nullify its hold over us.”
“And you want me to stay behind.”
Jularra twisted and threw her arms up.
“What do you want me to say? Is there someone else you think could do the responsibility justice?” She spat fury with each syllable. “This has nothing to do with anything other than you being the right person! Why must you insist on putting fucking color on a canvas where only black and white lives? I need someone to protect the city while I’m gone. I need the best person for that. You are that person. Is there any other damned thing that you need explained about this?”
“No,” he said.
“Then get out!”
Thirteen
Jularra sniffed and filled her lungs with the damp breeze of the late Acorilan autumn. Crunchy leaves blew through the yard, adding to the commotion of the gathering guard. The season’s complex scents typically transported Jularra to a state of wonder and inspiration, but that was muddled by worry about the coming journey.
She stood next to her horse and fidgeted with the saddle girth. She and Korden normally ran through last minute details before a departure. Instead, Korden surveyed their preparations from a deliberate distance. Jularra lingered awkwardly, occasionally looking over with poorly hidden glances.
Burdened only with impatience to begin the journey, Vischuno and Wona trotted into the group’s staging area. They were doubled over in laughter, almost toppling off their horses.
“Her sword went flying behind me,” Vischuno was saying to Wona. “She kept trying to run around me to get it… lurching in one direction, and then sprinting to the other. I stayed just enough in her way, you see. Waiting for her to get too close.”
Jularra welcomed the distraction and looked up, trying not to resent their good moods.
“She got so frustrated!” Vischuno continued. “With every failed attempt to get by me, she’d reach up and slap me with her gauntlet. It stung a good bit, but I couldn’t help but laugh.”
“She would’ve gotten around you if she’d wanted to,” Wona cried through laughter. “She’s a Spire! She was toying with you!”
Vischuno sat up straighter in his saddle. “No! I was toying with her!” he barked.
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“Yes, yes, I’m sure.”
Wona hopped down. “Your Majesty, Visch here will make for a powerful fighting companion, as long as we don’t run into anything that slaps!”
Vischuno scooped his three arms up, each displaying a middle finger. Wona choked with laughter.
Jularra smiled, then went back to picking at her saddle.
“Queen Jularra? Is everything all right?”
“Of course,” she replied immediately. “Are you both ready?”
“'Zah!” Vischuno bellowed. Wona nodded and took a bite of an apple.
“Good. Are the Bedrock and Spire ready?”
“Yes, ma’am, just about” answered Vischuno. “The barracks chief was rooting out the stragglers.”
They both watched her expectantly. She nodded and forced approval into her voice.
“Good. I want to be on the road before the sun crests the mountains.”
Before she could change her mind, Jularra turned away from her two soldiers and marched over to Korden. Her pace was moderate, her steps solid, though her thoughts were anything but; her confidence in her plan was tempered by regret at the memory of her and Korden’s last heated exchange.
Korden stood rigidly as she climbed the few steps up to him and stood at his side. She turned and joined him in looking out at the assembling men and women.
“Any news on the advance group?” Jularra asked.
“None,” he answered without inflection.
“Good,” she snapped back. “They shouldn’t be communicating until they arrive in Messyleio.”
“Your initial supply horses are ready, and your group is just about assembled,” Korden advised. His tone was terse and official.
“Thank you,” Jularra said with a quick but genuine warmth.
Korden glanced at her before continuing. “I have also sent word to Brinnock to expect you and your group, and to have the remainder of the supplies ready on your arrival.”
“Well done, Chief Korden. I believe Morganon is in order.”
Korden bent forward in agreement. Jularra turned to him.
“Then I wish you, and all of Acorilan, health and peace while we are gone.”