I tried to crawl toward her. If I didn’t get trampled first under the press of warriors, it would be a miracle.
Suddenly, the central pole of the tent began to grow. It sprouted branches, lifting the fabric of the tent high into the air. We were exposed to the night and the stars twinkling overhead.
I twisted around to see my father and King Talorc circling the demon. King Talorc threw a piece of kindling to the ground, and it grew to became a massive bear of wood that reared back on its hind legs and roared at the demon. Father held a massive wooden sword that he swung at the creature, hacking off one hand.
Bridei scampered to my side, pulling me back away from the fight.
“Are you okay?” she asked anxiously.
“Get the coal,” I panted.
“What?”
“The coal!” I pushed her hands away. “Remove it. It’s the only way to stop—”
She was already on her way. I watched her take a running leap at the tree in the center of the camp and scamper up its branches. Mother was right. Bridei would make a wonderful Champion.
From her new vantage point, she was able to leap onto the back of the demon. She yanked her short sword from its sheath at her side and reached around to pry the coal loose from the demon’s mouth. It fell to the ground, rolling toward my father. He stopped it with a boot and crushed it swiftly beneath his heel.
There was an audible pop, and an invisible force threw the warriors back. When it hit me, I fell flat to the ground. I thought at first it was a renewed attack by the demon, but then the golem began to shrink. Bridei leapt clear, collapsing into a ball as she landed and coming up beside King Talorc.
There was a scream, not unlike Cynet’s when he disappeared, and suddenly the golem exploded into wood splinters. I felt several hit me in the side, and I rolled onto my back. The stars blurred with the pain watering my eyes. I didn’t realize I was crying until Bridei and Fyn carried me away.
CHAPTER 7
I sat on the edge of a bed, staring down at the wooden stick where my foot used to be. The physician insisted I practice with the wooden leg for a week before embarking on my journey. My stump was still painful and sore. I needed more time to heal, but I was out of time.
Talorc was convinced that I had conjured the demon to kill Cynet, even though everyone told him it was impossible. Even the challenger said I couldn’t work magic without the mark of Dera. But Talorc would not allow Cynet’s name to be tarnished. He wanted me gone, and he was tired of waiting.
The flap of the tent opened, and Bridei ducked inside. She was carrying a long staff.
I caught my breath when I saw her. “Is it true? The Eagle King died in his sleep after returning from Volas Pass?”
Bridei’s grim expression was all the answer I needed. “Ragnell’s justice for that King’s treachery,” she said. “His son rules now. He raised the white flag. Wants to start talks of peace.” She spat to the side, and I frowned at the blob of spittle on the wood flooring. “Quahtl peace means a knife in the back.”
“Talorc won’t go through with it, will he?”
“It’s none of my business if he wants to stretch his neck for the hangman. Here.” She thrust the staff she carried toward me.
It wasn’t a quarterstaff, like those I’d carried into battle, though it was covered in flowing designs woven between runes strengthening Ragnell’s magic. There was a crosspiece at the top with cloth tied around it, and I realized it was a crutch.
Bridei’s cheeks had two bright spots of color. “Father wanted you to have this.”
I reached out hesitantly and touched the wood. A feeling of peace and strength crept into my fingers.
“He didn’t bring it to me himself,” I whispered.
“No.” Bridei’s voice was choked. She stepped closer and thrust the crutch at me again. “It will help you keep your balance.”
I stood up slowly on my good foot. If I wasn’t looking at it, I thought my right foot was still there. Pins and needles prickled in the missing toes. At night, I would often awake in a cold sweat, imagining that I could still feel the burning of Dera’s mark on my heel. But the physician called these ghost images, projected by the severed nerves. They weren’t real.
I took the crutch and nestled it under my right arm. Tentatively, I put weight down on the wooden stick strapped to my leg. It hurt, but it was easier to balance with the crutch.
I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. “Tell him, thank you.” I would never see my father again, and he hadn’t come to say goodbye.
I couldn’t look at Bridei. “You should have sent a servant to give me the crutch.” My voice was small and thin. “Why are you here?”
Bridei hesitated as she picked up the pack sitting at the base of the bed. “You made a mistake, Alswyn. A pretty severe one. But don’t think it was entirely your fault. If Cynet weren’t already dead, I would kill him myself for what he did to you.”
I choked back a sob that threatened to take over my voice. Even after everything that had happened, I missed him. “Nobody else believes Cynet was my sponsor. Why do you?”
“Let’s just say, I have firsthand knowledge that he was a hypocrite.”
“What?” My head was suddenly swimming with questions.
“Your betrothed wasn’t exactly faithful.” I gave her a sharp look as she helped me wrestle the pack onto my shoulders. “I don’t think there was a woman in the castle that was safe from his attentions.”
I should have been crushed by this revelation, but somehow I wasn’t surprised. I only hoped that Bridei hadn’t given in to him. I was too frightened to ask.
“Where will you go?” Bridei asked, brusquely changing the subject.
The melting snows had made the north clear for travel again, but I was no longer welcome there. “Maybe I’ll go east, to the cliff dwellers. I’ve heard they’re a gentle folk. They might accept me.”
“The new Quahtl king has opened his borders,” Bridei said hesitantly. “He’s announced his desire to take a T’yathan bride, to cement the peace between us.”
I snorted. “That will be the day. A T’yathan could never love a Quahtl. Not after the years of war.”
Bridei suddenly pulled me into a huge bear hug. I teetered, almost losing my balance. She steadied me.
“We’ll be separated forever,” she whispered.
“That’s what Talorc wants.” I shuddered, remembering the venom in his voice when he pronounced my banishment.
Bridei wiped angrily at the tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’m going home,” she said heatedly. “I can’t serve a king who banishes my own sister from my side. I’ve lost my mother, now I’m about to lose my sister. I won’t serve Talorc anymore.”
“Fealty is a heavy burden to bear,” I said.
Bridei hiccupped a sob and glared. “Don’t quote Mother at me!”
“I’m sorry.” I ducked my head.
She sniffed loudly and rubbed her nose on the sleeve of her tunic. “Your escort is waiting,” she said, becoming all business. I understood. It was the only way she could get hold of her emotions. “Talorc said you needed to be gone by the time the sun set, or he would kill you himself.”
I nodded. It was only what I expected, only what I deserved. Talorc had been soft on me, considering the circumstances. I was lucky to be alive at all, though a part of me wished he had just executed me and been done with it. At least I might then see my mother in the Halls of Ragnell before I was dragged down to Dera’s burning fire for those who sinned.
I took another tentative step, using the crutch and my new wooden leg. My steps were lurching, uneven. I was alone in the world now. I would never see my family again. I wanted to give in to despair, but that was not what a daughter of Skya would do.
Mother had taught me to get back up when I fell, stand my ground, and hold my head high. In spite of everything, in spite of what I had done, of the punishment that I deserved, of being forced to shun my family and my people for the rest of my
life, I was determined to follow my mother’s advice in the end. I was determined to become the kind of person she expected me to be.
I hobbled out the door of the tent. Five warriors were waiting for me outside. Fyn was there, as was Weylin and many other warriors I’d trained with for years. They were good men and women. They would see me safely to the edge of T’yathan lands. From there, I’d be on my own.
I hesitated, then turned back to Bridei one last time as she came out of the tent. I reached my left hand out to her, and she clasped it in her own.
“Be well, Bridei.” The tears streamed down my face, and I didn’t even try to stop them. Bridei stepped forward, touched my cheek, and brushed back a strand of red hair that had escaped my braid.
“Be well, little sister. Until we meet again—”
“—in the Halls of Ragnell,” I finished the ritual goodbye.
I turned and lurched away in the center of the knot of warriors. By law, no one was allowed to watch me go, and the camp seemed silent and deserted as we passed the tents.
The sun had almost reached the horizon. It was setting on a life I could no longer have. It was setting on the person that I had been, a person that died when Cynet disappeared.
I had a chance now to right my wrongs, to start a new life, to make better choices, and to become the woman my parents wanted me to be. It was an uncertain future. But it was mine.
NEXT!
Forgotten Embers
Alswyn’s story continues two years later!
As an exile studying the healing arts in a foreign land, Alswyn hides the details of her troubled past and the true reason she was banished from her homeland.
But when the king's foreign bride falls prey to a mysterious illness, Alswyn must face the man who ordered her exile and use her knowledge of dark magic to catch a sorcerer before the countryside is plunged back into a bitter war.
Unfortunately, digging up the bones of Alswyn's past may well prove fatal to her soul.
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Special thanks goes to my first reader, Emma Griffiths. Her enthusiasm is contagious! I’m so grateful to have such an amazing cheerleader on my side!
I also need to thank my dear husband for supporting me as I pursue my dreams. And for not saying “I told you so” when the going gets rough.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
SHAUNA E. BLACK SMILES a lot. But her appearance can be deceiving. Like the legendary sirens of old, she enjoys luring innocent readers into the stories she creates and trapping them there. Her home is sprinkled with spontaneous singing and the enticing smell of fresh baked bread, but her most cherished ploy lies in her passion for writing. Readers should beware of entering her intricate worlds, lest they lose all touch with reality and find themselves aiming arrows at mockingbirds or pointing tree branches at people and muttering nonsense words. If you decide to ignore this warning, you can find out more about her adventurous fiction on her website, ShaunaBlack.com.
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