by E Hall
“We have to come up with something, a decoy to fool the patrol. A smoke and mirrors deception. I’ve fleeced enough players at the tiles table to know that the trick is to know more about them than they know about us. Or what they think they know about us. And make sure that no one person knows everything,” I prattle on.
“It sounds like you’ve thought a lot about this,” she says as snowflakes float down dreamily and dust her shoulders.
“I can’t afford not to. I need a plan. When I set foot on Raven’s Landing soil, I must take action and that means things will change: we won’t be nestled in this cocoon of snow and preparation. We’ll be rallying for freedom, fighting for lives, our own and for the people of Raven’s Landing. We’ll be righting wrongs. We will be courageous and strong.” My chest heaves as though I’m already out of breath during battle.
“Sounds like words spoken by a leader...a king.”
Kiki reaches for my hand—the same fingers I held while leading her through Raven’s Landing and to safety when we first met and the same fingers as we trekked through the outerlands. “We’re in this together, whatever happens,” she says.
“I’ve thought a lot about a lot of things,” I say more softly.
She tilts her head as her wings beat in the sky.
“I’ve thought about us.”
“I know,” she says, and it’s as though I feel her words inside me.
“Have you seen my dreams?” I ask, biting my lip as a sudden bashfulness washes over me. I feel my cheeks redden, warming in the cold.
Her nod is subtle and her grin flirtatious “A few of them.”
My cocky swagger returns as though bidden and my smirk matches hers. “What did you think?”
“I don’t object to what I saw.” Her whisper and her hand and her eyes carry with it a promise that terrifies and excites me.
“You have the most beautiful and complicated lips I’ve ever seen,” I say.
She tilts her head toward mine and I lower my chin a few degrees.
Her nose brushes mine, soft, warm. We’re so close. Her eyes are low and glittery. Our breath is like the wind and then my lips are on hers. It’s a touch at first, but then we move deeper, mouths pressed together. There is no darkness. Only light. Then my stomach drops as we fall from the sky.
Kiki stops us midfall. “Sorry. I don’t think I can multitask.”
I smile as we float on, but it suddenly drops when the king’s soldiers march toward Raven’s Landing along the Royal Road. Their crimson uniforms contrast sharply with the snow. At least a dozen bearmen approach from the east.
“Incoming,” I warn.
“Yeah, I see them,” she says, flying lower.
“We don’t want to alert the patrolmen of the bearmen’s line. They might not have liked us, but we have a common enemy, making us allies in a backward kind of way.
“What if we distract them? Slow them down? That way they’re sure not to see the bearmen coming. We can use ourselves as bait and then at the last moment, the guards will have a surprise attack from the bearmen. Maybe if we actually ally ourselves with the bearmen, they can help us overthrow Leith.”
“Not a bad idea, if you’re willing to use yourself as bait.”
“I am. Are you?”
My father was brave and would face the guards if in my position and part of me hopes that it’ll initiate the shift. “Let’s do it,” I say.
Kiki surges forward, getting ahead of the marching soldiers and then when she’s a measure away, drops to the ground. The landing is a bit hard, but I understand she’ll have to work on these new abilities of hers.
She draws her sword in one hand and in the other, energy crackles from her fingertips.
Although I don’t have the ability to shift, my father taught me to summon the bearmen battle rage. It’s a fury drawn from deep inside that many shifters have but bears in particular. Sometimes too much—they can go into a frenzy for weeks and that’s why they make such good fighters and also why it’s better for them to live a distance from others.
The soldiers slow at the sight of us and then the one in the front suddenly halts.
They shout, commanding we drop our weapons.
“Were you looking for us by chance?” Kiki asks as though she’s eager to get into a tussle as well.
The patrolmen seem to consult one another. Instead of demanding that we lower our weapons, an arrow flies from their midst.
Kiki goes into full-on magic mode. She blasts the front of the formation with frost fae ice, glazing them over.
The others scramble with their weapons, clearly not expecting magical retaliation. They rush toward us and the animal inside of me comes awake, gnashing and snarling as though desperate to be uncaged.
I wield my sword, slicing, spinning, and landing more than a few blows. The element of surprise seems in our favor. Kiki is a flash of metal and light as she shows off her newfound abilities. We fight, but it’s clear that we’re outnumbered. I can only hope that we were correct in our assumption that the bearmen were also in pursuit.
As I empty my quiver of arrows, a guard pins Kiki on the ground in a hold. Then another two guards rush in. It takes three men to subdue her. I sneak up from behind and then am drawn back, knocked to the ground where I land with a solid thud. My surroundings go blurry. As I scramble to get up, a guard bodyslams me. Our eyes meet for a moment.
“I recognize you,” he says.
Yeah. We’ve gotten into it before alright. “I’d argue most of the king’s guards have scrapped with me, but you’re the one who broke my nose.” I shove hard, knocking him off. “And you’re not going to do it again.”
I scan for Kiki, but she already warded off the guards that held her down and does battle with her sword.
“They’re not nearly as quick as demons.” She laughs and her weapon sings in the snow.
Then like thunder rolling across the plain, the bearman descend. I’ve never seen them in battle, but it’s just as my father described. They decimate the patrolmen in a matter of moments. Their strength is unmatched even though they’re half the number of the king’s retinue.
The ground is a pool of red garments and blood. Only the bearmen and two guards remain standing. They restrain Kiki and one has a knife to her throat. Her hands crackle with magic, but the other guard has his sword angled against her wrists.
“We could do it,” the guard says, pressing the blade closer.
Her lips turn down and where I usually see her fire, sadness blankets her features.
“I imagine the king would want her alive,” I holler, attempting a negotiation even though it’s no contest with the bearmen.
Two of the bear shifters amble closer and then two more. They circle the guards whose swords tremble slightly.
“I suggest you let her go,” I repeat.
A tear streams down Kiki’s cheek. I’m guessing she’s never been in a battle that wasn’t against demons.
She sniffs. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t really want to hurt anyone.” She takes a deep breath. “But they’re not going to hurt me.” Then all at once, her magic explodes from her and the two guards are blasted back. Sparks of cold light flicker as the patrolmen twitch on the ground.
She flexes her fingers and her chest heaves. Our eyes meet. She rushes to my arms. “I’m sorry,” she says again. “A deep and sudden sadness came over me. I don’t know where from.”
“You have a heart, Kiki.” I lift her chin so she meets my eyes. “You’re a Peace Officer remember?”
She nods. “And we’re doing this to prevent war.”
“I know.”
“It’s not going to be easy. But the right thing isn’t always and you’re the most courageous woman I’ve ever met. I’m proud to fight beside you, but I’ll be even happier when this is over.”
She sinks into my arms and I hold her tight for a long moment. Then she takes a deep breath and draws her shoulders back.
The older bearman from when w
e first set out to the mountains emerges from the fray. He reaches out and grips my shoulder amiably. “We’ve now fought together. You are a brother. She is a sister.” He gestures to Kiki.
This a far cry from when he attacked us, but I return the embrace, relieved to be aligned rather than enemies.
“You said that you’re challenging the silver king.” His chest rises and lowers, the battle rage dissipating.
“We’re on our way back to Raven’s Landing now. We saw his guards marching and you approaching—thought we’d help out.”
“They have no place on our lands.”
“You have a place in ours once we defeat the king,” I say.
“Better for us to return the favor and help you, no?”
“We’d appreciate that. You’re familiar with the silver king’s dark ways. There’s no telling what he’s going to do once we return.”
“We’re all too familiar. Then we shall meet you again in battle for a common cause.” The bearman gives me something of a salute and returns to the other shifters.
“We’ll soon send word,” I reply.
Kiki pops her wings and once more, we take off to the sky. “That was intense,” she says.
“You were amazing.”
She flexes her arm. “Just getting the hang of this. But I kind of like being able to defend myself.”
And I like her. A lot.
Chapter 22
Ineke
When my regret and adrenalin from the brush with the guards dissipates I’m all tingles. Soren’s arms wrap tightly around me as we continue to fly toward Raven’s Landing. How does this work with him exactly? The way his lips moved with so much confidence tells me clearly that he’s done this before. The kiss, although brief, could’ve carried me to infinity. Instead, I forgot that I was trying to fly at the same time and almost sent us plummeting to our deaths.
If it weren’t for the compass I’d be spinning wildly—north, south, deeper within. Everything inside rushes and whirls like the snow in the wind. The kiss was strong and smooth, warm and soft. It’s something I’ll never forget. My heart is all fluttery and not only because I’m flying.
“I’m flying,” I shout into the incoming clouds, heavy with snow, when I really want to yell I kissed Soren!
“...Right into the unknown.” Soren’s voice is rougher than before. “How about we hang the king?”
“Barbaric.”
“Exactly. What about putting him in his own dungeon.”
“He’d probably like it there,” I reply.
We both laugh.
“You’re cruel,” he jokes.
“You’re right; these are terrible, disturbing, despicable suggestions and are too good for Leith. We need to come up with something truly hideous.”
Soren smiles at my joking as we continue; the subject matter not quite as stark as the clean and bright landscape as snow blankets the world below. I turn over ideas and possibilities in my mind.
He says, “The problem is reaching him.”
“We could lure him out with a giant doll dressed up like a beastly demon queen and he’ll fall madly in love and then we can push him into the ashpit or send a flock of ravens to peck his eyes out.”
“Wait. You might be on to something. Long ago, during Hallowtide, before the king took power, they’d have a strawmen parade.”
“Strawmen?” I ask.
“Trotter told me a story about how people would build these giant figures out of straw, wood, and cloth. Supposedly it was very impressive how they’d move along the streets as though they were walking.”
“Interesting,” I say, not sure what the connection to the king is.
“When they’d reached the harbor, they’d—” He makes an exploding sound, tickling the hair on my neck. “The people hidden inside would explode out, tossing treats and candies to everyone.”
“Brown bread?”
“Squares of it wrapped in paper. At least, that’s what Trotter told me.”
“Are you thinking we try to trick the king into thinking one of these strawmen are real? And shower him with—?”
“Us, hidden inside,” Soren says. “To sneak into the castle grounds and then surprise attack.”
“I don’t think we could get a man, real or fake, past the guards,” I say.
Just then, a gurgling kraa sounds in the distance. Another raven answers.
“But maybe we could get a giant bird through the gates. A wooden raven.”
“He hates ravens,” I say, wondering if there are invisible roads in the sky I should be following so I don’t have a collision with a bird.
“Exactly. We could claim we captured the ravens and trapped them in a wooden cage shaped like a raven.” Soren narrows his eyes in thought.
“There’s some odd, ironic poetry in that.”
“Like it or not, he’s a king and we need to do something outrageous or he won’t be inclined to allow us an audience. This might be something we can work with.”
A story from an English literature class comes to mind. “Ah, so we’re doing this Trojan horse style only Trojan raven.”
“Uh, sure,” Soren says.
As I continue to fly, I tell him the story of Odysseus.
The night sky is a sparkling ceiling over the carpet of snow. Tension grows the closer we get to the border of Raven’s Landing. I force myself forward, thankful the magic of flying for a full day is not as exhausting as the trek back would’ve been.
At last, we stop on a hill outside Raven’s Landing. Taking the last sips of the still-warm honey tea, we decide to take a break and observe for activity and avoid patrols.
Soren’s eyes skip over the sooty buildings staining the snowscape and his attention drifts to the sea. “I sometimes feel like my dad’s still here with me and we could just float away.”
“When I was flying, I felt like my mom was by my side.” I sigh.
Soren’s arm laces across my shoulders and I settle against him.
Something on the hillside of the Roost catches my attention. “What’s that?” I ask.
“That’s the Roost where you tunneled through. I’ve thought about taking it to get back in, but you mentioned it was narrow. I, um, don’t want to be stuck. I was thinking we’d have better luck returning if we take a wide arc out that way.” He points. “And then come along the coast. If the tide is right, the water will wash away our tracks.”
“I see something there though, like ink staining the snow.” I squint my eyes, peering into the failing light. Letters. I see letters written with dark stones or ash. “I think it says help.”
Soren rises to his feet.
“Who could it be for?” I ask absently.
“For us?” Soren suggests. “Or the shield fae?”
A kraa carries across the snow-swept plain of the innerlands at our backs.
“Or the ravens,” he adds.
“Perhaps for everyone,” I say.
We remain silent until the sun slips away and the night draws a curtain of protection around us. We sit in wait, long after the tower bells stop ringing, signaling demon hour. We wait a while longer then keep close to the brush until the drumming quakes the earth in a foreboding attempt to keep the night howls at bay. The half-moon illuminates an irregular path of stones as we cross the hills to the cliffs on the edge of Battersea.
“Let’s keep clear of the patrol on the sea wall,” Soren says.
“Can they swim?” I ask.
Soren laughs, low and dark. “Let’s not find out.”
The moon glows behind the towers of Fjallhold. A cloudbank comes in off the water, shrouding the harbor and the rest of the villages in fog. The torches flicker like eerie eyes in the distance.
We scramble along the side of the mountain to the rear of the castle and approach Bearsden. The backwash of the rising tide flows into the moat. The memory of the foul-smelling tunnel when we broke in makes my throat thick.
We stop every few minutes and listen, but all we hear is the
shushing of the sea. The air is still and the floating mist envelops us as well. Soren guides me confidently but slowly as we navigate the rocky terrain without being able to see more than an arm’s length ahead of us.
Soon, we’re on the other side of the clouds. Just as I’m about to exclaim my relief at being able to see again, Soren places a finger over his mouth. We silently slip back into the fog on the edge of the black sand.
Low voices carry across the water, echo in the fog, and cascade down the hillside. I’m not sure about their source. Patrol? A pair of starving dowsies like Soren encountered when I hid in the tree the first night I was here? Demons? My fingers hover over the sword Vespertine let me take from the cave.
Boots crunch over loose stone and the hissing voices continue.
“I told you, Scriv, I’m skint, clear out of dukhs. If you could wait until next week, please,” a man’s voice pleads.
“The striddlies will be rotten by then.”
“Come on, Scriv. You know I’m good for it.”
“I know you have the dukhs. Do you want me to leather it outta you? Pay now or I’ll find another customer who’s more willing,” growls the man named Scriv.
“It’s for my children. My wife.”
“Your children are a bunch of orphans you make work for those dukhs jangling in your pocket with the promise of food, and your wife is in the ashpit. I know you’re a liar and a thief. It takes one to know one. Pay or get lost.”
The dukhs jangle as Scriv suspected and then he says, “That’s more like it. Now go, before I leather you anyway.”
The mist parts and the back of a wide man with jowls and meaty fists appear. He spins, angling a blade at us. “Who’s there?” he asks. His eyes streak with equal parts fear and menace.
Soren steps forward, undaunted, his blade shining in the light.
Considering Scriv’s girth, in an astonishingly swift movement, he slashes the air and then wraps one arm tightly around my neck like a noose. Chills run through me as he squeezes, but one well-aimed kick between his legs sends him squealing. We’re close to the castle and I don’t want to risk revealing my power unless I have to.