by Jesse Teller
“Oh, Helena, forgive me, I started to hate you for it.” She clawed at her arms, but Erick stopped her. He held both her hands, and she nodded. “Your dad started leaving for long periods of time when I snuck back for a fist full of grass. It was good at first. I tricked myself into thinking I had it under control. I told myself if I had a bit of it, I would be able to keep it in check. But it takes over after a while.
“Helena, I don’t deserve your love, or your forgiveness. I don’t deserve Erick or this home. The need is killing me. I have starved it for so long my body is shutting down. I will leave now, and you will not have to deal with me again.”
“You are not going anywhere,” Erick said. “I owe you my life.” Erick smoothed her hand and lifted it to his lips to kiss it. “You are here until you die. Then you will be burnt on a Flurryfist pyre.”
Helena wept.
“Why, Erick? You told me one day you would tell me why you took care of me,” her mother said. “Why you gave me a home and why you love me. So tell me now. What did I do to earn your affections?” she said.
He bent to her ear and whispered.
She looked at Helena and nodded. She closed her eyes and wept, and Erick looked up at Helena. Her mother smiled, and she realized this was the first time she had ever seen her mother’s true smile.
Helena sat in a chair, staring at her mother as the woman cried and leaned against Erick. Soon, she said she wanted to sleep, and he picked her up carefully and carried her to bed. When he came back, he looked at Helena and shook his head.
“Tonight is my wedding. I either run with you now or I marry Rachel Beastscowl at sunset. Go get your things. I will get a cart filled with hay. I will hire a man to smuggle me out of town, and we can run.” He came toward her. He dropped to his knees before the chair she sat in, and took her hands. “I will run into the world with you, and we will find a place to be together.”
“No, Erick.”
“Shh, this is what I want. We will not go back to the mountain. We will go south. Yenna had all of us taught about the surrounding lands. I can get us as far as Tienne, and we can set up a life there.”
She closed her eyes, and she could see it. She saw him building a small house for them in the country outside of a bigger city. She could work at a hall of drink and dance. He could get work as a guard or a warrior of some kind. They would live a simple life, a life where no one knew them, and they could start a family. She would give him sons.
She started crying. She could not do that to her children. She knew then she could not run away with Erick. His sons would have to know where they were from. They would be needed on the mountain, and here in Tergor. The Flurryfist boys would need their legends and their lines. They would need the people here and the people back home. The sons of Erick would feel an emptiness deep in their bodies for the land they would never see and the people they would never know.
And she knew Erick would dry up as well. He had the bones of the Flurryfist clan holding him up. Just like the black bones of her mother, he had a need and would feel a pull. He was addicted to the people of the mountain. He needed the Redfist clan. He needed the love of his people, and would dry up without it.
She looked into his eyes as he fought to describe a life in the world, and she shook her head.
“Marry your Beastscowl girl,” she said. “I want you to have her.”
He shook his head and looked at her as if she were crazy.
“I am not going to marry anyone but you, Helena. You’re mine. You are me. We cannot be apart. I know that now.” He looked scared. She took his face in her hands and kissed him.
“You need Flak. You have been waiting for this all of your life. You have to have him. You have lived for this man and his clan, and you will not be happy without him.”
“I will not be happy without you.”
“Yes, Erick, you will hurt for me. Maybe forever, but this city is your destiny, and you will find joy in it.”
“Where will you go?”
“I am going back to the mountain.” She fought back tears, and she won that battle. She was going numb now, part of her leaving that had held her up for so long. She had to go home. She had to work him out of her system. She would marry, have children. She would work the hall for the rest of her life and serve the Flurryfist, and she would think of him here, with Flak, with all the people here, and she would have to be happy with that. She kissed him, then left. She walked out of the Flurryfist ghetto and into the streets. He followed her, and begged her, but he could not stop her from leaving. She was giving him to Flak. She was giving him to the people here. They needed a Flurryfist. They needed Erick. He took her to the gate, and sobbed when she walked out of it. She turned her steps for home as the sun began to drop in the sky, and the world grew dark.
*******
It was the bottle of wine Terala had given her that set her on fire. Helena heard it drop and shatter to the road, her growl growing in her throat. No way she would let this stand. Erick would never be hers, but their love was too strong, too terrible in its immensity, to go unavenged. She curled her fingers into talons and loosed a scream, primal and satisfying. As she spun on the road, headed back to Tergor, she realized who needed to die. She realized her life had been stolen, had been killed. She turned back for the city and the wedding of the man she loved.
By the time she got to the gate, she was hot. The heat of the day, the heat of the drink, something had set her on fire, and she took her cloak off and dropped it on the street. She pulled at the scarf she wore and threw it to the ground. She was not mad. She was not angry. Helena was furious. She gripped her long dagger as she marched down the street and into the ghetto of the Redfist clan.
The streets here had been laid with red stones. The whole of the ghetto seemed to have been dipped in blood. She thought of the blood that would splash these streets, and she knew she would die. She would be executed for this. She was sure that was what they did to murderers here. They couldn’t exile them again.
The wedding was not hard to find. She heard the party from blocks away. She kept her pace, even though her heart told her to run. She did not shove her way through the crowd but eased her way through like blood from a wound.
She poured into the building to feel it sweltering hot. Soon, an arm dropped around her shoulders, and she felt a hot man beside her. She spun to see Whelter looking down at her with tears in his eyes.
“Helena, you made it. I was wondering where you went. Have you met Flak? I can introduce you.” She knew of Whelter’s love for the man, and she could not hurt him.
“Yes, Whelter. I have already met him.”
“Good, that’s good. He is a good man. He doesn’t want to hurt me, doesn’t know at all.” Whelter nodded. “Can’t blame a Redfist for taking charge. It is what they do.” Whelter wiped his eyes and took another swig from his bottle.
Helena grabbed it out of his hand. He started, and she tipped it back. This was not mountain ale. This was not a wine her people made. This was outlander ale, a sour tasting brew that screamed its way to her head and splashed hot in the back of her throat. As she coughed, he smiled at her.
“Stronger than it looks, huh?”
He leaned in, and she felt sadness rolling off him in waves.
“We ought to run away together,” he said. “Will you marry me, Helena Dreadheart? I’m not much to look at, but I will keep you safe and be good to you.”
“Sure, Whelter, we will wed. I just need to do one thing first,” Helena said.
“I’m going to stay right here,” he said. He had walked her into a great building and stood now on a balcony overlooking a large dance floor framed on all sides by dining tables and benches. “This is as good a place as any to watch the fire.”
She did not know what that meant, but decided she would never know. She was never going to see Whelter again. This was not going to be a thing she could walk away from. She turned back to him, kissed his cheek. He touched it as if it were a wou
nd, nodded to her and winked with a wet eye.
She descended a set of stairs and walked across the room.
There was a mob of people around the table she worked her way toward, but she would not deviate from her plan.
She heard a great bellow, and turned, seeing Gerber step out onto the dance floor with his daughter’s hand in his. He held it up like a weapon or a flower, and led her out into the center of the floor.
“My lovely daughter I give away today. She has brought me heartbreak and joy. She has lit my house like a flame and brought us the cold winds of winter’s heart. She is fierce and tame. She is deadly and life-affirming, and I hand her over now to the Flurryfist clan. She will set you on fire, Erick Flurryfist, and the line of blood that comes from your loins will warm the world of the progetten people for a thousand years. I know no better woman than my daughter. I know no more terrible heart. And so, I take this moment to show her to you for your approval.”
He waved his hand in the air, and the band struck a dramatic chord. He stomped his foot, and Rachel spun, pulling a white fur from her shoulders and whipping it above her head before throwing it away.
Gerber grabbed her hand and kissed it feverishly, and when the band lifted the beat, they began. Gerber was a warrior, and as such, a fierce dancer. As Helena moved through the crowd, she heard people talking about it. As she slipped past people, she heard their amazement. She looked at the head table, set high on a platform overlooking the floor, where the Sons of the Seven all sat watching. She saw Erick, looking at his bride being twirled by her father, and she thought he looked sick. Helena kept her head down as much as she could, trying to hide her face. She had thrown off her cloak. If Erick looked up, he would see her. But he had his eyes locked on the woman he would marry.
Yenna, that elder at the center of the table had to be Yenna Redfist, and sitting beside him was Flak. Yenna was impressive, but she did not have her eyes locked upon him. Her gaze was held by the jewel of the Redfist crown, not the crown itself, and she decided she did not care what came of her actions today. She would throw these people back an entire generation tonight, but her hate was too great to hold back any longer. She needed to resolve this all. She needed her last act as a woman to be vengeance.
She walked past a table, grabbed a mug from it, and drained it as she stepped past. The man she took it from looked up and laughed as she moved by. He called for another, and she kept walking. She made it to the table, moved behind it and came through the ranks of the Seven Sons. She passed Black Hand. She passed Steeltooth. She walked by the Fendis and the wolf that lay snarling at his feet, and she stepped up behind Flak Redfist.
She looked down at him. Her hate burned bright. When she heard the music die, Gerber left the floor and stepped to his chair at the head table. Rachel stood in the center of the floor, panting from her vigorous dance with her father. She was glowing, the absolute image of vitality and beauty. She faced Erick and bowed.
Helena glared down at Flak in rage. She began to lift the blade to stab him in the back of the neck, when she heard a bellow and looked up.
Whelter walked out into the middle of the floor, then pulled his axe.
“Get your ass down here, Erick, and kill me or die!” Whelter swayed on his feet and threw his head back to finish his bottle. He threw it at Erick as he roared in wrath and hate, and Rachel started talking to Whelter.
Erick stood, caught the bottle, and set it down gently on the table before him.
“I won’t fight you, Whelter. My love for you is too great,” Erick said.
Whelter tossed his axe to the floor and held his arms out wide. “Then come finish me off,” he said.
Gerber stood, pointed his spear at Whelter, and cursed. “Get this beast off the floor and bind my house to the Flurryfist. I demand a noble man, a man of Seven blood for my daughter, and I have him. Swipe this foul beast away, Yenna, or I will.”
Betten stepped into the middle of the floor and pulled his bow. “No one will kill Whelter tonight,” Betten said. “My love of you is great, Gerber. My fear of you greater, but I will not stand by and watch this farce any longer. Come and kill us both or walk away.”
Gerber stood and elbowed his son Brenden. They both grabbed their spears and stepped out to the floor.
When they got there, Brenden stepped before his father, then lowered his spear.
“Rachel,” Brenden said. “Name your man.”
Never was there going to be a better time to strike. Every eye was planted on the drama on the dance floor. No one watched Helena. She lifted her blade over her head, staring at the back of Flak’s neck, and felt a gentle hand on her wrist.
“No,” a calm voice said to her. “Whatever has brought you to this act, rethink it.”
She looked to her right and saw Brock. Her tears rose, and she let him take her dagger. He slid it back into her sheath and wrapped an arm around her.
“Why?” he whispered to her, and her heart broke.
“Erick,” she said before she broke down into silent sobs.
“I see.”
“Boy, if you don’t put that weapon down, I’m going to break you in half,” Gerber said to his son.
“Rachel, sister, name your man,” Brenden said. “Name the man you love, and I will see it done. No matter what that means.”
Whelter turned to Rachel. He held his arms out wide to her. “I have no noble blood to give you. I have nothing fine, and nothing of consequence. I am not wise. I am not cultured. I do not have vast knowledge or much, if any, honor. I am filthy and rude and coarse, and I will likely always be.”
“Whelter, shut your mouth right now!” Gerber said. “You have defiled my family’s name enough.”
“Gerber,” Helena heard Flak say. He stood up as Gerber turned to glare at him. “My friend and mighty ally Brenden has asked a question. It has not been answered. Curb your considerable wrath, and let the Daughter of Beasts answer him. Whelter, my good friend, you were interrupted. Please finish.”
“I have loved you since first I kissed you,” Whelter said to Rachel. “The first night we spent together was the day I started living. One touch from you made me understand what it was to be a man, and when you look at me, I can see my future. I cannot give you anything. Nothing of worth at all. All I can offer you is my bruised and beaten heart, and my utter devotion.”
“Erick Flurryfist has agreed to marry my daughter, Redfist. Will you take his bride from him?”
“Brock, what is it that you have there?” Betten said. He looked at Helena and winked.
Helena turned to look at Erick, and he stood.
“He has my reason for living,” Erick said. “It has been Helena, and only her, my entire life. She did not love me until I went back home.” Helena broke out into sobs, and Erick stared at her. “She did not see what she had for me, but we found it. And now I am poised to lose all of it. Gerber, mighty Gerber Beastscowl, I have agreed to marry your daughter, and though my honor rests in the completion of my word, I would walk away from that honor, walk away from my life and my destiny to lead here with the Redfist clan, if in walking away I could spend a single night in her arms.”
Rachel turned to Whelter and stalked to him. He held his arms out to her, and she stepped into them. She kissed him, and Erick threw people aside to get to Helena.
“My sister will marry her love, Father,” Brenden said. “And Helena will marry her Erick. It is my decree as the new master of the house of Beastscowl. I ask you, as Yenna’s bastay, to bless my decision.”
Erick lifted her into the air, and Helena wrapped her legs around him. She threw back her head, howling. She looked down at him and lowered to kiss him.
They kissed long and soft. When she pulled back, he smiled at her. “What are you doing back here behind the Redfist?” he asked.
“She tried to kill Flak,” Brock said.
“Helena!”
She grinned at him. “I don’t care what you think of me, Erick Flurryfist.”
&n
bsp; Book Two
THE PRINCESS PROPHET
I
34 Years Before The Escape
Jocelyn kicked off the bed and dropped to the floor. She gripped the floor with both hands, and with curled fingers and bending fingernails, she clawed her way under the bed.
He was coming.
She could always feel the filthy little boy as he approached. She had asked the other girls of the Fendis ghetto. She had asked some of the boys. None of them had seen him. None of them were tormented by the filthy little boy with no mouth.
She heard the air rip open and zip back closed as his feet thudded against the floor. She heard him groan and walk toward her. She clamped a hand over her mouth to fight back the screams, the blood gushing in her ears as her heart broke out in utter panic. She closed her eyes to the horror of it as his blackened claw touched the floor. As the claws tapped and clicked, Jocelyn held her breath. She heard a slap and a scrape, and opened her eyes, his hand scratching as he pulled it back. He stretched and clawed again, inches from her as he fought to reach her. She looked into his eyes, yellow irises ringed in blood red whites. The flesh of the face stretched over the mouth, pulled taut as he struggled to open his mouth, and she wept. She put her forehead against the floor and clamped her eyes closed.
“Go away, go away, go away, please go away.” She heard the air rip open again, and opened her eyes as he walked away. She watched transfixed as his feet disappeared, then sagged to the floor in relief. She waited until the worst of the fear passed and knew he was not coming back, before crawling out from beneath her bed to cross the room. She pulled her robe on and pushed her way out of her room and into the hallway.