Freya is growing and strong. She has amassed a following of sorts, though I suspect it is somehow connected to her frailties. There is something endearing about it, but some of it worries me. She doesn’t seem to be able to hear as well as she should through her rounded ears and her voice is oddly alto. She is a beauty, though, her unusual features earning her extra attention. The elders express their anxiety again that the humans will consume us, but my father is already discussing arranged marriages, even mentioning Rune’s son, of all people. He’ll do anything he can to gain power from her.
It was hard to read, this diary. My mother’s diary. Her writings went on until they became more erratic, answering questions I didn’t want answered.
My father has taken Freya from me. He has assigned her tasks, Rune watching over her, testing her. It’s just as Junnie feared—just what he’d done to my mother. I will find a way to stop him.
The elders are keeping Freya now. Guards have been assigned to me. Like a prison.
I killed three guards to get to her. We only had a moment before I was torn away from her, yet I feel I got the message through.
She came to see me last night. I don’t know how she got past the guards. But I begged her to keep our secret, for her protection…
And then several pages were torn from the diary before it continued.
It was an accident. A product of her temper, her human emotions. They were testing her, a servant told me. Anvil was holding her back, Rune with magic. She snapped and they saw her power. Some denied the possibility but not my father. He has attained his prize, that which he has always coveted. I will stop him.
The plan is forming, but I am unsure whether it will work. I know I cannot defeat him, and his guard, alone. But I must protect my Freya. I must protect us all. It is the want of power that will consume us. The want.
The script was shaky, many of her words hard to decipher. Ominous.
I had no choice but to escape. I would need a distraction to have any chance. I went to the village to find my young Noble. I didn’t expect what was there.
On my way in, I found the spot where we had met so many days. I almost didn’t recognize it—bare of growth, the dirt patted down from years of wear. And then I saw him, the man in tattered clothes, hunched with his face in his hands. He heard me approach and raised his head, the awe all that was recognizable.
“You’re back.” His voice was trembling, feeble. It was my Noble, young no more. He had been waiting here for my return.
He was an outcast of the village; no one believed his tales of magic, the mysterious woman he claimed to meet here. He confessed to spending years trying to find me. He’d thought I was angry with him and that was why I’d not returned. He was afraid to leave this spot in case I were to change my mind, forgive him for whatever he’d done.
I pushed the guilt aside when I recalled why I’d had to come here. For my Freya, to save her. What my father had done to me, to my mother, I would not let him do to her.
I approached the grieving man and reached out to him. As I held his hands, I closed my eyes. I could not watch as I snapped his neck, the way I had with the small boar as my first show of magic to him so long ago. I placated myself by remembering he would soon be gone, his life so short.
I held him until the daylight began to fade, and then carried his lifeless body into the village. Proof they would be attacked and killed, proof they must fight the elves. It was not hard to incite a riot. They were fearful creatures. I convinced them to raid the castle, gave them direction.
And then I returned. I knew I would have time to prepare. They would be slow to gather and make the journey. I was thinking of Noble as I resolved to wear the dress meant for our wedding, with its dramatic shape and deep meaning. I remembered when he’d given it to me, explaining the white stood for innocence. I had stifled a giggle then. I could find no humor now. Yes, it would be fitting.
I knew what was coming. But what I had read so far was much more horrifying than I’d expected. I didn’t want to continue. How could I have been so stupid as to forget it was my mother who had destroyed the northern clans, taken the families from everyone I knew? As they stood protecting me, the betrayal I’d felt before was gone. In its place was a new hurt, a heart-rending sorrow.
They heard my sobs. I was aware of their eyes on me before they uncomfortably turned away again. Chevelle approached me warily as I lay curled in a ball on my blankets, the book positioned in front of me. He tossed it aside but I no longer cared. He sat behind me and pulled me into his arms, holding me as I wept. It was more right than anything had been in a long, long time.
I woke with new resolve. I stood, prepared to make things right, but something was… off. The group surrounded me, tense. I glanced around but couldn’t see why.
And then, from nowhere, I was thrown into the air. I landed hard against my back. I slid down, barely standing on my feet. Someone was in front of me. Ruby. I threw my hands back to steady myself. It felt like a wall of stones behind me. I didn’t look back, though, because just as I’d regained my footing, I heard the howls.
Before the next breath, a new sound—a closer sound—filled my ears. Shoosh, shoosh, shoosh. It took longer than it should have to realize they were arrows. My mind couldn’t seem to process the scene fast enough. Before I could distinguish the threats, they were changing. The hands I’d splayed against the wall of stones for support were now in bonds. I forced myself to look away from Ruby’s back, her arms stretched out defensively, to see what was holding me.
My breath came then, fierce and gasping. Panic. Long vines were wrapping tightly around my wrists, reaching out for my legs. I burned my right wrist free, fighting to reach my sword before they grew back. Large thorns burst from the vines on my legs and pierced my skin like daggers. I barely had the capacity to hope they weren’t poison. I sliced at them furiously, but I wasn’t fast enough. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a flash of lightning and it confused me for a moment; no storm was near.
A vine wrapped my shoulder, jerking me back. I was trapped. I looked to Ruby, but she could not help me now. Beyond her, a line of long flowing robes marched through the mist… coming for us.
The sight gave me strength, or courage, or blinding stupidity. I didn’t know, but I went with it with everything I had. I was trapped against the wall, unable to move, but there was one thing I could do.
The sun broke through the clouds and I saw precisely what I needed. A shadow crossed the ground in front of us, a hawk flying overhead. The corner of my mouth pulled up in a smile as I closed my eyes to join him.
The scene from above was just as incomprehensible. I focused on one thing at a time. Directly below me, I saw Grey. He was caught, wrapped in vines as my own body was. But there were flames circling his feet. I followed his gaze to find his opponent, and then dove.
I hadn’t put much planning in this, but I was still running on adrenaline. I decided the fastest course of action was pecking his eyes out. It worked. He threw his hands up, covering his face, screaming. But he did not attack me. As I rose back to find my next target, I saw the wolves. They were also not being attacked, fighting with no opposition. And then I remembered what Chevelle had said. They would not kill the animals.
As I laughed, the hawk screeched, and Chevelle and Steed glanced up at the sound. They were fighting, almost back to back, the bodies of councilmen strewn around them. I surveyed the land, searching for a stronger animal to jump to, something more harmful. I ran through my options—where was a quill pig when you needed it?—but I wasn’t able to find anything near. Evidently the fight had cleared the mountain. All right, so it was just the hawk. And the horses. I quickly passed through their minds, urging them to stampede, and then returned to the sky.
When I entered the bird again, something was wrong. It wasn’t only the bird, someone was there. Someone else. The shock of it threw me back to my own mind. My eyes shot open and I scanned the scene again.
I forgot what I was looking for when
I recognized a face, hooded in a cloak, fighting against her own. Junnie. She stared back at me for one brief moment before she turned to fight some invisible foe.
The stunned moment took the last of the borrowed courage from me, and I drew in, afraid, as my body remained encaged in vine and thorns. My legs were wet with blood, arms deadened to the pain and cold. I became aware of an unbroken chant, a voice I didn’t recognize, and I turned, stunned again, as I saw Asher. He wasn’t in the battle. He stood back, seemingly a bystander as the words flowed from his barely moving lips. Then he ran.
Confusion again as Junnie followed after him. Chased him.
Ruby’s whip cracked in front of me and I knew the advance had gotten too far. And I was tied to a wall. Why hadn’t they killed me already? I waited for the flames.
What came instead was far more excruciating.
I expected to collapse as my body disconnected from my mind, but the vines held me in place. I saw a few final flickers of the battle before my eyes looked toward the sky, rolling back into my head. I had no way of forming a coherent thought or I might have been afraid.
A Fitting End
I was surprised, in my dreams, that I wasn’t already dead.
For a long time, there was no sound, only those disjointed images. When the sound came, there was something else wrong. It was like… like I wasn’t alone. Someone else was there, dreaming with me, and I could see their dreams. They mixed with mine, creating chaos.
There were faces I didn’t recognize and those I did.
I dreamt of Steed, winking conspiratorially… mine.
A large and frightening dark-haired man in leather and armor… not mine.
My room in the old tree, my mother’s pendant casting rainbows on the bed… mine.
A long, damp stone corridor lit with torches… not mine.
There was Junnie, her blonde hair shining in the sun as she greeted me at her door on the west side of the village. And Junnie, mysterious under a hooded cloak, fighting with magic and weaponry, killing members of the council guard.
We sat around a fire, telling stories. Someone was ribbing Ruby. Her eyes narrowed when she replied to him, matter-of-factly, “Your mouth is very small. It’s unattractive.” And her head bobbed side to side as she smiled, pleased with herself.
Anvil laughed and his tongue wagged. He was holding someone by the arm, preventing them from running away. Suddenly, my vision changed and I was a hawk, attacking, tearing a piece from his tongue.
And Chevelle. He was in so many of my dreams. We were sparring sometimes, clashing swords. Sometimes he was pummeling me with rocks. Other times, the moments would have surely made me blush, if I could have felt my cheeks. He held my face in his hands, declaring his need for me. “I have wanted you since the moment I first saw you.” But the word burned. Wanted. He’d used the wrong word.
Occasionally, I watched as a third person. My vision would change and my perspective would be off. Like when I saw Fannie. She was razing the village, slowly tearing it apart. Fire and wind and destruction as she cackled and taunted the villagers. She dropped them as they ran, sometimes snapping their necks, sometimes breaking a leg so they would have to stay alive to watch their homes burn, their families die.
There was a large man who forced me to do magic, testing me until I was on the brink. He was fierce and wore a long scar across his brow that touched his cheek. He kept his hair cropped short, not wanting to hide any part of the damage.
And my mother, though my dreams gave her two names. Dark hair, blowing in the wind, arms outstretched, the pendant hanging at her neck glowing fiercely. Fire, flames, burning.
And then water. Drowning. Over and over and over. It almost made the cliff dreams more bearable, to be away from the repetitive drowning.
I swam around in these impressions for what seemed like an eternity. Eventually, they became so familiar they all started to seem like my dreams, not someone else’s.
Then the dreams stopped. No images flickered behind my lids, yet my eyes did not open. The muffle in my ears from the drowning dreams was gone. I could hear clearly, clearer than I’d ever heard. I hadn’t found my body yet, but I heard conversations, voices I knew. They were whispers but they were clear. I listened, hoping to gain clarity… but something was still wrong. Nothing fit. They discussed Junnie and Anvil and Fannie, but those all felt like two sets of people now.
They were worried; I could hear the stress in their tones. How long had I been like this? It seemed so long, trapped here.
I remembered the vines. I tried to feel my arms, see if they were still there. Was that why I couldn’t move? Was I still tied to a wall? No, no, I wasn’t tied. Had the thorns been poisoned? Was I dying now? I worked to calm myself. No, I was getting better, not worse.
I felt a light pressure on my forehead and my eyes flew open instinctively, though I’d had no response from them all the hours I’d struggled to force them open.
It was Ruby. She sighed with relief. “Oh, Frey.”
I was suddenly surrounded and the sight made my head spin. I closed my eyes tight in an attempt to stop it. “Get her a drink,” someone commanded. I felt the hand in mine then, as it was pulled away, replaced with a glass. I grimaced; I doubted I could hold a glass up, let alone myself.
“Don’t worry, it’s only water,” someone reassured me.
At the word, I realized I was parched, bone dry. I forced myself up, keeping my eyes tight as I concentrated on getting the glass to my lips. They were rough, cracked; I could feel them against the rim of the glass. I wondered if it was dried blood or if I had been down so long they’d simply split. I drank the full glass and felt it exchanged for another.
I finished it as well and started to lean back. There was a pillow behind me now, keeping me in a sitting position. It was soft. Everything surrounding me felt warm and smooth. I opened my eyes gingerly. I was in a bed. A very nice bed.
I looked up to see several people leaving. Steed? Grey? I fought panic as I wondered if they’d all made it. The worry throbbed in my head; it felt like my mind could splinter. I checked the faces close to me for stress but could see none. Ruby’s smile was soft. “How do you feel?”
I was having trouble forming a simple answer. There didn’t seem to be a word for it in the disorder of my brain. My silence was answer enough.
“It will pass.”
I hoped she was right.
Chevelle was watching me, anxious now.
“Is everyone all right?” I asked. My throat was raw, my voice sounded as if it had been through a grater.
“Are you?” he replied in a low tone.
I couldn’t be sure.
He hesitated, almost not wanting to ask the question he knew he must. “Can you tell me your name?”
“Elfreda,” I answered immediately. He waited for the rest. But I had two answers, didn’t I? I chose. “Of North Camber.”
It must have been the right answer, because he grabbed me, exultant, sighing and kissing my skin. He held me with a fierceness, a gentleness, that took my breath. His lips trailed my cheeks, murmuring words and careful of wounds as they swept to a temple, my eyelid, the corner of my mouth. He lingered there, unable to resist touching the broken skin of my lips, even if it were only feather light, the barest brush of skin.
He drew away slowly, feeling my shock, or seeing it in my eyes, and realizing his mistake. His expression fell, but he didn’t take his hands away. He swallowed hard, waiting for my confirmation.
But I wasn’t the other Elfreda, not the long list of binding words that had been my identity for so long. I couldn’t seem to reconcile the two lives.
“I… I think I’m just Frey.”
Chevelle’s hands slid to my shoulders, tension in his grip.
“That’s okay,” Ruby assured me.
“We will find the others,” Chevelle promised, his jaw tight. I couldn’t tell if the pledge was meant for me or himself.
The others. I had forgotten, lost for so
long in my dreams, the bonds I’d hoped would break, the councilmen we’d need to free me. I wished I could think clearly. I tried to remember what had happened, but could only see flames.
A flicker of movement caught my eye and I turned to find a hawk perched on the ledge of a balcony. Suddenly, I needed fresh air more than anything.
Chevelle helped me to my feet and I walked, a little wobbly, to the door. I had been dressed in a vest of dark leather and slim pants, carved medallions adorning my chest, but my feet were bare as they crossed the polished stone floor of the bedroom, at ease in a place they seemed to know. I stepped out into the sun, and I had to steady myself on the stone ledge. Not because of the lightheadedness, though I was feeling faint, but because below me, before the steps to what I now realized was a castle, a thousand elves watched me. I sucked in a harsh breath, unable to get my mind to accept what I knew was happening.
I had been so oblivious. Reading the diary, learning of my mother and her ties to the throne. It had told of my own life, of what I was to become, a reality that would not be put to rights in my broken mind. But as I stared down, the assembled pieces of my shattered self held together by no more than tattered bits of string, I understood.
This was my place.
I heard Ruby behind me now. In a low voice she said, “They have heard of your return. They have come to see for themselves.”
Their rulers had burned, along with so many of their families. After the massacre, there had been no one. From the dead, it seemed, I had returned.
Chevelle stepped to my right side, placing something cold and heavy in my hand. My sword.
I knew what to do then. I took a deep, steadying breath as I raised the blade to the air. There was a faint pause, the briefest tick before the bird took flight, its wings hitting wind as the shift began, and then nothing could be heard but my name, roared in the song of the crowd below.
[2018] Reign of Queens Page 51