The War Queen

by Jane Merkley

  “Blindvarn?” he asked hoarsely.

  “More so than you, ranger.”

  “Show me your tags.”

  She took the chain off from around her neck and slapped it into his palm when his horse came even with hers. The ranger put the light to it.

  “Kyree Bensolent; servant; House of Lady Altarn Shadheing,” the ranger read aloud the embossed letters on the small tin plate. In the dim light, his face pinched with apprehension. “Servant in the Lady’s House, eh? That’s a pleasant ticket. Let’s see your arm.”

  She bunched the sleeve on her right arm up beyond her elbow. “You’ll not find that accursed brand on my skin.”

  “No offense. It is just hard to believe one of our Lady’s servants skipping off to the city to buy bread so late in the day.

  She smiled and hoped it looked believable. “I am on leave for holiday.”

  “In a time of war? And you are alone between Ashnar and Niesh.”

  “I wasn’t anticipation an ambush on my own roads from my own people.”

  “I wish you were right.” The ranger leaned back in his saddle. “I’ll ride with you to Niesh.”

  “Don’t make me your worry.”

  “Everything outside Niesh is my worry. I am required to give assistance in the name of our Lady.”

  The argument with Jasper was still on her mind and she was about to tell this ranger the same thing, but now that she had had two miles to think on it, Jasper’s warning about men taking advantage of her loneliness prickled unbidden down her neck.

  He turned his horse around and together they rode forward.

  “Required?” she wondered. “Not glad?”

  “Servant, you live in Our Lady’s house. You see her face. We see her back. The only opinion we have of her is what we see coming out of taxes and wages and that can be unpleasant most times unless you own the last name of Baurachmann or Minorista.”

  “Can’t please everyone,” she mumbled gently.

  “But she can certainly please a lot more than she has been. Sorry for my tone. I respect and honor the Lady. I will speak no more of the matter.”

  She wondered what he meant by that. Was she failing in yet another area to serve her people? Every year the people had a say in where their taxes went, and before she was Lady she was always upset when her taxes didn’t go where she wanted, so she made it a point to do that for the people. Her headache would not go away. Jessom was still holding the nail that Byrone was pounding away at with the hammer her court had given him and the people of Blindvar were cheering him on.

  Neither of them spoke again all the way to the gates into Niesh. Two guards stood sentry there but the ranger had already tagged Altarn so the guards passed them through.

  “This is good here,” she said. “I appreciate your services ranger and will mention you to Lady Altarn. She thanks you personally through me.”

  “Thank you servant. Go with Gildeon.”

  The ranger left and she faced the city. She had visited the city frequently during her time in the army, and even back then she couldn’t help but feel that something was missing from it. Something, as if the pretty buildings were nothing more than shells to distract the looker from getting too curious about what might be missing from within. Something that had been missing for sixteen years.

  The city’s soul.

  A delicate and vain thing, Niesh had been built in penance to the god Gildeon as a symbol that the people had cleansed themselves of sin and this is what was left of them… nothing but whole goodness.

  The buildings of white alabaster stone captured the dim glow of the two moons and maintained a steady light all night long. The cobbled streets were swept regularly and horse droppings were promptly picked up even upon departure from the animal. Summer flowers and fauna burst in rainbow sprays from window boxes and street gardens. Black arching lamp posts pillared either side of the street as if holding an invisible ceiling. The lamp posts connected to the opposite side so they formed a triangular archway above the street, lamps hanging from the highest point.

  A very religious town, certain laws were constantly in effect and enforced. Woman were not allowed to show anything between the knee and collar bone while in public. Men had to refrain from swearing or be forced to pay a fine. Even though Gildeon no longer existed, the town still believed that Gildeon’s teachings would do well to keep good order and discipline among the people.

  Books of Testament still taught of times when Gildeon used to have direct intervention with mortals before he withdrew into Velmashyn and the people had to succumb to praying to communicate with him instead.

  Altarn never would have thought she’d see the day when Gildeon was defeated out of Velmashyn and the peoples’ faith were crushed out of their prayers.

  She hadn’t looked into the details of what happened sixteen years ago. As soon as she learned there was no such thing as gods anymore because a stronger force beat Gildeon out of divinity, there was nothing more she cared to know.

  The city, once built completely around the existence of Gildeon, now puttered aimlessly in the dark, a blind hand groping for something it had dropped. The city walls built with the bones of prayer and muscles of grace no longer had a heartbeat to make them move. The city was a body without the soul. Thought once to be as immortal as the god they built it for, it was now decaying as surely as those who had built it.

  The temple at the center of the city was still maintained . Altarn could see its sharp white spires clawing up amid the flat roofs of the buildings around it. A few faithful souls still went to pray in the temple. The light that Gildeon created for the dead to follow was now lit by the mortals for him to return to. Maybe the god was lost in the dark as once the mortals had been.

  Altarn admired those people for being so perseverant in their faith. Admired them because they were only few, even if she was not among them.

  It was three hours beyond sundown, but a surprising number of people were still about. Apparently there were several businesses that remained open all night long with enough customers to make it worth it. Altarn had heard of this, some cities in Blindvar encouraging people to sleep through the hottest point of the day and then work during the night when it was coolest. She couldn’t disagree with this method. She hated waking up early in the morning, thanks to her time in the army.

  She went first to the aviary. Niesh was only five miles from where her house sat in Ashnar, but she promised Jasper and hoped to show him how motherly he was being with all his worry. So with the bird, she sent a sly little note with it:

  Made it to Niesh! I scraped my knee when I fought off a band of thieves, but I expect it to heal soon.

  Me

  It was cheeky, but she was satisfied believing that Jasper deserved it.

  After the aviary, she found the stockyards where a few caravan guards patrolled the area with cross bows. She approached the man whose girth had slid all to his middle, sitting at a booth to the entrance of the yard.

  “Hello,” he greeted.

  “Hello. I’m looking for a caravan to travel with that is leaving tomorrow to Athenya.”

  “One be leaving here at second afternoon hour heading to Yott.”

  Altarn pursed her lips. Despite her disdain for waking up early, the early afternoon was a little later than she had hoped. She wasn’t sure if she would have to stay in Yott for a night or if she’d have enough daylight to hit the next town.

  She signed up for the caravan and departed, following the stretch of clean cobbled road back toward the main gate and Niesh’s world famous inn called Gildeon’s Grace.

  Taking up a whole city block, the inn was open all night, all year round having become popular with its diner, three levels of rooms, lounges, and gaming facilities. The rest of the block was dedicated to several private and public hot and cold bathing chambers to satisfy both healing and social interests.

  As one makes their way through Gildeon’s Grace, they would find the structure of the buildings s
omewhat unusual, even for a city that was famous for its architect. However, if they were to ask the host of the inn, he would tell them that it was built especially for Gildeon, and the buildings were structured for the said god’s name so the deity could see it from Velmashyn. So if you ever feel your garden path is going in a circle, you have probably landed on the “O”, he would say.

  This inn, assumedly, was reasonably expensive, and Altarn was aware that it would look a taint bit odd for her servant guise to stay at such a rich estate, but she was not quite ready to grasp that she might have to sleep on the ground during her travels… and she could really use a relaxing bath because who knew when she’d get another one?

  She stopped her horse in front of the inn’s entry gate. A middle aged man in a suit arrived at her side and accepted the reins she handed him. With it, she gave him three copper pieces and he led the horse away to the stables.

  She entered the lavish establishment. Crystal chandeliers glinted from the ceiling, illuminated by candles hanging in circles about the dangling beads.

  Dark wood pillars spread the length and both sides of the spacious entrance hall. The glossy white floor reflected her image as she made her way to the two inn keepers behind a dark mahogany desk. Altarn looked at her reflected image and made a face. Mirrored floors were not accepted by most business because they risked losing female customers. But Altarn was the only patron at the moment so she dampened her worry that someone might catch the reflection looking up her skirt.

  The two men in their young twenties behind the desk were dressed up in wedding-nice white suits to encourage the guise that they were angels watching the entrance into Gildeon’s home. Altarn thought the theme was a little over done but it clearly earned the establishment plenty of money from those who traveled far to see it.

  She was aware they eyed her servant garb as she approached but they greeted her with a smile.

  “Evening, miss,” said the young blue eyed man whose blond hair was greased back and reflected the light.

  “Evening. One room for one night, please.”

  The man eyed her once more before clearing his throat. “Three gold.”

  She dug into her purse and produced three gold coins. She caught his look of surprise but he took the coins with a final smile and handed her a key with her room number stamped on the head.

  “If you’d like a late meal, one will be served in half an hour,” the blond man said, indicating the hourglass on the desk, the level of the sands on both ends almost equal.

  “Thank you. May I also get a wake up call at the ninth morning hour?”

  He nodded. “Of course.”

  Altarn proceeded across the entrance hall, following the signs toward her designated room number and opened the door. It was too much for a single person for one night, but she would take advantage of the free meals included and the hot baths downstairs to make it worth it.

  She set down her bag and laid on the bed, sinking three inches into its depths. She eventually sat up and dug into her bag, pulling out her essential bathing items. She grabbed the one piece garment and felt a crumple of paper. Pulling it out, she smoothed it over her knee and saw Kyree’s signature at the bottom:

  Please be safe. Good luck!

  -Kyree

  Altarn folded the paper neatly and placed it back in her bag, feeling light hearted all over again from her friend’s simple words of comfort. She doubted anyone else would feel upset if she were harmed on the way – minus Jasper who had almost tied her up and thrown her in a locked closet to keep her from going – so it was nice to have in writing that someone still cared.

  Dinner was still half an hour out so she gathered her bathing attire under her arm and headed downstairs.

  The outdoor pools were steaming gently in the cooling air, fogging over the two moons above her. The five pools were actually large stone basins in the ground and heated by large fires under them, accessible through the inn’s catacombs. Metal grates in the stone Altarn walked over exposed the servants manning the fires beneath. A small tent against the inn’s wall gave her privacy as she changed into her single piece bathing attire. She wrapped her clothes into a tight ball and carried it and her boots to one of the five pools that was the least populated. She placed her clothes on the side of the pool and settled herself onto the stone bench beneath the warm water.

  It had been a while since she had been swimming, so she kicked off the wall of the pool and casually drifted away, making progress by occasional strokes of her arms. She passed an aging group of men and women sitting in a straight line on the underwater benches with a few lounging in the water in front of them in attempts to form a circle.

  Altarn heard the name “Gildeon” pass among them and she rolled her eyes and continued to swim by.

  “ – was the only god. But now I hear there is a tribe of people living in the western jungles that believe there are nine gods,” exclaimed one of the old women, her short white hair falling out of neat curls as condensation from the steam weighed them down.

  “Nine?” scoffed one of the men. Small brown age spots had ambushed his face and balding head. “We can hardly keep track of one god!”

  The pool was only so long so Altarn could not swim far enough to avoid listening to them. She reached the other end and pushed off the wall to swim back.

  “So I was just wondering,” spoke the same woman, “if maybe there are more gods in Velmashyn then just our Gildeon. Maybe he isn’t the only one?”

  “There are no gods in Velmashyn now.” The age spotted man grumbled. “If there were more, we would know about them, Leila. We are far too old to go discovering new religions. Those nine gods in the jungles might not be so caring and merciful as Gildeon was. Those gods might even make those tribes men… drink blood and kill their first born, I don’t know.”

  Leila gasped. “Kill their first born?”

  “Which is why I chose to stick with Gildeon,” Leila’s companion replied, jamming a thumb into his chest. “He don’t make us do crazy things like that. It is only a pity that he fell. But maybe that is why Velmashyn spit him out. He was too good and Velmashyn was getting full with all the souls he was brining in after they died.” He shrugged. “Ah, hell, Leila. If you want to go to them jungles and worship them nine gods to replace your one that fell, go for it.”

  Leila put her hand on her chest with a small gasp. “I am the first born!”

  “Sad way to go, really.”

  Feeling about twenty minutes had lapsed, Altarn completed her lap and hoisted herself out of the pool, water sluicing off her in warm streams as she stood. A trail of small splashes against the sidewalk followed her back to the tent. Once inside, she used one of the towels provided and dried, wringing her black hair out into the towel before weaving it into a braid. She dropped the towel in a wicker basket there and left the tent. She wrung her bathing attire out in the grass and then held it in a tight roll in her hand as she walked.

  She entered the dining room. A hearth four feet in height stretched from one end of the wall to the other, flickering with fire the entire length. Tables spread throughout the room, the glossy dark wood catching the fire light in an orange lacquered glare. Despite the size of the diner, the company in it were few. She seated herself at a table near a ring of aging men – masons, she guessed, due to their sun-aged arms – because she wanted to hear what Blindvarns talked about at dinner. This was her chance to hear what they thought was going on in the House.

  Dinner was beef stew, seasoned potatoes, and a buttery roll. As her bowl was placed in front of her, she tuned into their conversation. Of course their talk was on the war. Rumors were becoming more stable every day.

  “I thought Ruids were good people,” said a man with a grisly gray beard. Remnants of his dinner still clung to it. “They were always happy and ready for a joke. I had even played around with the idea of moving to Ruthel, though I would still keep my tags because my heart will always stay Blindvarn.”

  “Our Lad
y jumped a little too fast, I think,” commented another who was still chewing on his food. “There was a particular dense population of Ruids in Heathe and Lord Byrone asked Lady Altarn if he could infuse it into his state. A tiny three by two mile piece of land and our Lady throws a tantrum!”

  The other four around the table made grim faces and beat their fists gently on the table.

  “But – but,” pressed the man while his companion’s passions calmed, “Lord Byrone apologized for the upset and said he only thought to make the year census easier for her as there were more Ruids in Heathe than Blindvarns.”

  “We’ll forgive her for being a female and our-reactive.”

  That brief dagger of hate drew slowly down her spine. She knew the feeling. She had been feeling it ever since she had become Lady. She dipped her buttered roll into her stew, forcing herself to continue listening.

  “At the same time, though,” spoke up a man with a thick gray and black beard, “it almost makes sense. Heathe is almost in the very middle of Blindvar, and if you recall to maps, Ruidenthall’s capitol is in the center of the four greatest cities, forcing Greatmar to act as the hub. The roads out of those cities lead only to Greatmar, not to each other. Greatmar is the richest city on Endendre and in war, the army would have to hit Greatmar first in order to get the roads to the other cities. Greatmar has the biggest military, too. If Lord Byrone tagged a piece of our state as his own into a location like Heathe, he could overcome us quicker than we could call back Gildeon.”

  Altarn looked at the speaker and she was glad that at least one of them shared her same worries.

  “So I can see the concern our Lady has. But she’s going about it the wrong way. If you proclaim a war, you need to have the army to back you, and Blindvar is basically half the Ruid army is. We’ve got weapons that work, just not a lot of people to carry them.”