by Marian Gray
“Has he… have either one of you had a session with the patriarch?”
They shared a short glance before Ladice nodded, red-cheeked. “Both.”
“He stopped after my first one though,” Zoa jumped in. “It never got very far. The king called for him shortly after it began. But I believe that was the Lord our Sun’s doing. He moved the king to request the patriarch before the patriarch could perform any ill upon my body. The Lord saved us both that day.”
“If only we could all be that lucky,” Ladice said flatly.
“Does the king know about what the patriarch is doing?” I asked. Surely if he did, he would put an end to it. From what I had seen and heard, the young king was a champion of the people. Pleasant, caring, and humble when addressing the grievances of his subjects. There’s no way he would stand for such a thing if he knew of its existence.
“Doubtful.” Ladice sighed. “The king doesn’t enter the Mont very often, only on Saturdays for worship.” She tucked a large serving bowl under her arm. “Just smile. Even if it kills you inside, smile. It’s a sick game Menaries plays with us, but we’ve learned one of the ways to stop him is to smile and pretend to be happy. For some reason, he doesn’t touch the ones that smile. He’s the sort of monster that feeds on fear and sadness.”
The kitchen door swung open with a bang as it crashed into the stone wall beside it. “I hear voices when I should be hearing working bodies,” Astra announced as she entered the kitchen. Her boots marched down the several stairs with a heavy step, smashing through the chatter.
Everyone’s head bowed forward, and lips zipped closed. The girls scattered like cockroaches, diving into their chores or rushing away to where they should be. The air thickened and tightened around our throats the more Astra lingered. She had never done anything to me, but it was no secret that she was one of Patriarch Menaries’s favorite pets.
With long, careful strides, she drew beside me. Her hands rested on the countertop as her cool blue eyes watched me work, skinning rabbit after rabbit. Sister Ladice and Sister Zoa shot me sympathetic glances. Astra had yet to say anything, but they were already mourning my future. I could tell by their somber faces. Anxiety built inside me, and my stomach fluttered. Had she come to collect me for Patriarch Menaries?
“Where’d you learn your way around a blade?” Astra asked in Rekke. Her tone was more quizzical than accusatory. It had been several months since she last addressed me in the language. As soon as I had begun lessons in Esson, Rekke ceased to exist. My curiosity was piqued as to why she chose to use it now. What did she intend to say to me that she wanted hidden from the others’ ears?
I took a deep breath to calm myself. My heart was pounding in my ears. “I was a hunter, amongst other things, before I was taken. I learned my way around many weapons in order to survive and provide for myself.” Not to mention, these rabbits weren’t any different than the ones I had grown up with in Sairasee. Sure, the fur was redder in hue and quite a bit shorter, but that was it.
She leaned forward, eyeing me. “Is that so?”
“Yes.”
“Is that why you chose a pole arm instead of a sword to take with you?”
I paused. “What?”
She leaned her weight against the counter and rested her arms across her chest. “When you fled Rekkesov you had a pole arm on you. I thought that rather odd, considering most would sooner choose a sword—especially if they’re just slaves with no training.”
I hadn’t considered that my choice of weapon would be scrutinized months later. But she wasn’t wrong. It would seem odd for a lowly slave to pick a glaive over a common sword. “Yes, that’s why I chose the pole arm. Once upon a time, I used a weapon to survive, and pole arms are far more common than swords in Sairasee.”
“Interesting,” she breathed. Her eyes hadn’t left me once. “I have a task that requires your arm. We’ll leave at sunrise tomorrow.”
XXVII
Essony
The sun sat atop the flat, empty land, sweeping across the rocky desert with horizontal rays. For the first time in months, I had been given a pair of pants and tunic to wear. While examining the garments the night before, I had been wary of Astra’s intentions. What did she have planned for me that made it necessary for me to don what was considered strictly for men in this land. Then again, she never wore dresses.
The following morning, I wore the outfit and met with Astra outside the Mont as directed. A brother who I hadn’t met before escorted me out and left me at the doorstep.
“You look better in that than you do a dress.” Her voice floated to me from nearby.
I turned my head to spot the woman with two pristine white horses at her side. They were different from the ones used up north—tall, sinewy, and with bony ankles, yet they walked along the dirt, sand, and stone ground with such grace.
My feet carried me down the several pale steps with a newfound freedom. Being able to walk alone, unguided, was like a breath of fresh air. A smile spilled across my lips. It was genuine. “I feel better in this than I do a dress. The waists are too narrow and cut into my sides, and the shoulders are restrictive.”
She shrugged. “I’ve never been in one.”
“You didn’t go through seminary? I thought you were a mother?”
As we drew closer, she held out the reigns to the smaller of the two horses. Astra was taller than me, and her frame held a considerable amount of bulk. She had what I viewed to be a commander’s build: an ideal warrior’s physique. Her shoulders were quite broad, and the toned muscles underneath were apparent.
“I’m not a mother nor a sister,” she answered plainly. “I serve the king’s steward, not the patriarch.” It explained why I rarely ever saw her at the Mont.
This new slice of information piqued my interest. I had contemplated sneaking into the King’s Keep to complete my assignment multiple times, but it was too well-guarded, even for a sister to get through. Perhaps Astra could be my path to the king. If I impressed her or wiggled into her good graces, maybe she could take me under her wing. “Then why were you in the Mont’s kitchens yesterday?”
She cocked an eyebrow. It was a warning that I was overstepping my position and asking too many questions. “I go where I am told to go and do as I am told to do without question.” Her eyes shifted from me to the horse. “Do you need to be lifted?”
Esson women didn’t mount horses, not that it was illegal, it just wasn’t viewed as being appropriate female behavior. Because of this, they all had to be lifted onto horses by their male companions. “I can manage on my own.”
My boot slipped into the stirrup and I kicked off from the ground with an upward swing. The leather saddle was warmer than I expected, and the sun blasted me with its rays once I was atop the horse. The air was still cool from the night, but we didn’t have long before that would change and the heat would become oppressive.
“And I think you’ll need this too,” Astra said.
A young servant boy dashed out from a side door attached to the pale white keep. In his arms was something I had believed to be long gone.
“You trust me enough to give me a weapon?”
“No.” She shook her head as the boy handed her the glaive that Iver had made. “I simply trust my abilities. If it comes down to a duel, I will defeat you.” Her tone was so certain that I was partially convinced she would beat me as well.
She extended the weapon out to me, and I took it. The weight sat in my grip with a familiar ease. I breathed in deep as the moment washed over me. Independence, comfortable clothes, a weapon, and the feeling of freedom. This was good.
“There’s a strap on the side here.” She unbuckled the leather. “You’ll want to holster that thing until we get to the grotto. It’s an hour’s ride.”
I did as she advised. The pole arm slipped into place with ease. “Why are we going to a grotto?” She still had yet to tell me what we were even doing.
“For the Keep’s chef. There’s an event co
ming up, and the cook wants to test the menu before it’s served to the king,” Astra said as she pulled herself atop her horse. “The grotto is home to the king’s favorite boar.”
“So, we’re going hunting?”
“Yes. Ready?” she asked.
I nodded. It was odd that she chose to take me instead of one of the king’s own hunters.
“Stay close to my side as we exit the city. You don’t have the royal crest, and the people will harass you since you have no male escort present.” A large shield patch with a white steed and pale blue background sat proudly on her chest.
We kicked off into a trot and passed through the first gate. The Mont and the King’s Keep sat at the top of the carved butte, and the only way down was a long, large spiral road that swept through all five tiers.
“King’s riders,” Astra announced in Esson as we met the first crowd perched alongside a small marketplace.
It looked to be mostly servants in the roads of the rich, and they quickly moved to the side and allowed us to pass. Not once did they cast a judgmental eye or even seem to care that we were unaccompanied.
In fact, it wasn’t until we passed into the third tier that we began to draw glares and threatening shouts over our lewd behavior. They raised their fists and yelled obscenities, but the well-to-do craftsmen didn’t do much more than harass us. After we entered the second tier, we encountered our first act of aggression. Several men charged us, intending to rip us off our horses. They were only stopped when Astra drew her sword and reminded them that she was from the king’s court. Still, they were reluctant to stop. Disgust marked their faces as they stared at us.
Groups of men followed us through the street, calling us whores and promising death. Astra remained solid as stone in her saddle. Her face never broke from emotion. Her chin remained high, and her confidence didn’t waiver. I did my best to copy her resolve. But I steered closer to her as the angry mob of men grew. By the time we neared the next gate, our legs were practically touching.
I sat, waiting for the portcullis to be raised. The sweat trickled down my neck, spurred more from my nerves than the heat. Enraged voices grew around us, yet they maintained a few feet distance. They were like barking dogs, growling and snapping. None of them were brave enough to be the first one to strike, but I knew the flood would be upon us as soon as someone broke rank.
Astra turned to say something to me, and as she did, a large rock flew past her face, nearly catching her nose. Without missing a beat, she turned and spotted the young man that had cast the stone. He wasn’t difficult to pick out, as the crowd cheered his effort, and he smirked at her. His hands rested on his hips with his chest puffed out.
Astra retrieved the bow from her back and drew an arrow. In one fluid movement, she nocked the long slender bolt and released. It slid through the air and struck the man straight in the stomach.
The man released a pained choke. His eyes widened to moons when his gaze lowered to see the thirty-inch arrow lodged into his gut. Bright red soaked the tunic around the wooden shaft and slowly spilled down through the fibers in two wide trails.
A silence whipped across the crowd. I couldn’t help but to hold my breath too. Without immediate medical attention, the man was as good as dead. We all knew it. He’d have some agonizing hours ahead of him before life would slip from his flesh. It would be a very cruel death.
Had she struck him there on purpose? Astra was so close in range that she could have hit any part of his body that she wanted.
One of the guards at the gate took a step toward the man, but Astra immediately snapped at him. “Leave him. He assaulted one of the king’s riders. It’s an offense punishable by death.” Even though she was speaking to the guard, she said it loud enough for all of them to hear before turning to me. “What I was going to say is that tier two is always the worst out of the six. One knows it’s the bottom of the barrel and for all intents and purposes has lost hope. Five is too rich to care. Four still as ambitions to rise and wants to be in our good graces. Those that live in three are angered but smart. And then you have tier two. Men so low on the totem pole that they can’t stand to see any women in position higher than them, but they don’t have the brains to control themselves.” Astra spat on the ground as we continued our ride.
Shock still held my tongue in my mouth. The most I could muster was an understanding nod. How could she be so cold and indifferent? There were many times I had wanted to kill the bastards here as well, but those actions would have weighed on me. I didn’t have the stomach for it.
The ground was oddly wet in large patches along tier one. Due to the acrid smell that would forever be etched into my memory, I knew it was piss. This was later confirmed as we rode past an individual openly defecating in the streets. He didn’t glance up once as we rode by.
When we passed through the final and largest gate, the horses’ hooves met flat land, and we pushed them into a canter. We soared across the barren peach-colored land, passing small caravans of families. Mesas, buttes, and plateaus materialized before us, creating a strikingly different landscape.
Astra led us straight toward the towering landforms. Their steep cliffsides were a deep red, and scraggly green treetops formed along their bases. Large open entrances soon appeared, the mouths to Essony’s famous mines. But there were no homes or huts perched outside. If it weren’t for the one or two workers transporting ores and gems out of the deep caverns, I would have believed them abandoned.
We didn’t slow until we had been swallowed whole by the red landforms. Astra weaved us through a series of valleys, sharing a wave here and there with the miners.
“Where do these people live?” I asked.
“The miners? Inside the mountain. The old shafts, the first ones ever made, now serve as small towns with homes, markets, and protection from the sun’s never-ending heat.”
“How do they eat?”
“Well, the city serves as a hub. All resources are pulled from the land, brought to Essony, and then redistributed. There’s a weekly caravan that brings food to the mines, and then transports all the wares plucked from the mines back to the city. They call them ‘twilight traders’ because they carry the haul during the evening hours to stay cool.”
My mind didn’t ruminate on the idea for long before drifting back to Astra. Her actions in Essony shouldn’t have shocked me. Respect and candor were her defining traits. The man had disrespected her, and she sent him her honest opinion attached to an arrow. She was an oddity amongst her people, considering they all preferred to dance around things instead of stating it bluntly.
“Where did you learn Rekke?” I asked.
“My mother. She was Rekke.”
It explained Astra’s blue eyes. “And your father is Esson?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “We lived in Rekkesov until I was five, then we moved to Essony.”
“Why did you move?”
“My mother died, and my father didn’t believe he could raise and support me in Rekkesov on his own. So, we went to the one place where he had family—Essony.”
Perhaps this was why she didn’t carry herself like any of the other women in Essony. That being said, I was only ever exposed to the sisters and mothers in the Mont. There we were expected to smile. Astra never smiled. We were expected to be slim, petite, and pure. Astra was tall, broad, muscular, and brash. We weren’t allowed to hold position of authority—even mothers were considered below brothers. I had only ever seen the patriarch tell Astra what to do, and even so, she felt within her power to kill a man for throwing a stone at her.
“Dismount at the post,” Astra commanded.
Not far from there was a tall post that stood beside a creek. Joy bound through me at the sight of something wet and clear and cool—water was a rarity. As we drew closer, the creek seemed to emerge from the ground, covered by a pile of rocks. It trailed in a snaky curve before slipping into the base of a small, nearby mesa.
Astra dropped down from her saddle and kn
otted the reigns to the post. Her horse’s head lowered and lapped the stream with noticeable urgency. As soon as my own mount was free from me, he trotted into the stream and drank from the clear water.
“As we proceed through the grotto, make sure to never drop your guard,” Astra warned. “The animals in there aren’t afraid of you.”
Was she trying to intimidate or scare me? “Alright. I’ll keep that in mind.” I followed her to a small cave entrance.
The red rim was jagged, and the air that blew from the opening carried moisture. The rocky path was dimly lit and looked treacherous, with sharp rocks and an uneven floor. But Astra entered without hesitation. I climbed through after her, placing my feet with great care. A single stumble or trip and one of these stones would surely impale me.
As the path descended, we danced around the rock formations that slowly transitioned from jagged to a smooth windswept surface. It was such an odd place in an odd land. The color transitioned from a tireless peach to an orange weaved with red and purple, and there was a constant breeze.
The tilt in the floor lessened the closer we drew to the tunnel’s bright exit. My diagonal walk straightened, relieving the awkward pressure on my ankles. Walking on a flat, constructed surface for so long made my toes, feet, and ankles stiff. The entirety of my life had been spent running along the wilderness. It was strange how being cared for and kept indoors made my body tight and brittle.
I took a deep breath when we stepped into the grotto, amazed. A new world burst to life before me. The area was large and lush with striped rock walls. The cave ceiling rose high above us, but the center was split, worn down from centuries of wind. A soft trickling creek ran along the middle of the grotto. Bright, rich green bushes lined its edge. They were tall and rectangular in shape. At a far end, I spotted a small waterfall, but I couldn’t hear it. Sound played by different rules down here.