Heidi’s mind was so very full of thoughts, spinning all around this way and that, she could not have strung a sentence together, even had she wanted to.
“This might seem a silly thing to say,” said the Princess, “considering all that you have already told me – but it seems that something is weighing particularly heavy on your mind. If you care to free yourself a little of your burden, I’ve plenty of time. I sometimes sit here all night.”
Heidi looked up at her, and found that her face which was most always quite stern-looking, was painted with a lovely smile. Her dark eyes, only hours before so full of clouds and shadow, now seemed merry and bright. Heidi could not tell, though, whether her appearance was one of actual levity, or if it was an intentional aversion from severity. Had the light of the room been less scarce, it might have been easier to tell; but as it was now, there was only a faint glow that played across her face, and a looming blackness that hung just behind her.
“Though I do appreciate the offer,” said Heidi, “I think that I am rather unable. I suppose, then, that I shall just have to let it lie.”
“That is your right, of course.”
Heidi did try to return her smile; but found that she could not shift the fastness of her frown. So she turned to a subject less difficult to navigate, having just remembered the maps from the tower.
“I suppose that you must be very well-learnt in geography,” she said, “of which places lie where, and such things?”
“Not admirably so,” said the Princess. “Why do you ask?”
“I was only – well, I was wandering about before, and I found myself in one of the towers. I saw some maps on a table there, and assumed that they were yours.”
The Princess shook her head. “No,” she said. “Those are not mine. They are my mother’s, from a time when she still could manage to ascend those many steps.”
Heidi remembered, then, something that had been written in Josephine’s sparse notes: That the Princess ruled in her mother Abella’s stead. Which meant, of course, that her mother was only ill and not dead. Otherwise, would she not be Queen Lila?
“Is she terribly ill?” asked Heidi.
“I am afraid so.”
“I am very sorry.”
“Thank you,” said the Princess.
Wishing to speak of something lighter, Heidi simply asked:
“Why is this land called the Broken Earth?”
The Princess looked up, but it seemed that her mind still lingered upon her mother. She made a visible attempt to clear the darkness from her face, and said:
“I could not tell you. It has been called such for many, many years.”
“Does it have anything to do with – with the Abandoned Earth?”
The Princess shook her head. “The two are unrelated. The Broken Earth has been called thus for centuries. The Abandoned Earth was named only in recent years, as the shadow of Dain Aerca began to creep across the land. Before she came to power, all of this land and much more besides was a place of peace. It was called Désarn, and my mother was its Queen.”
“I didn’t realise.”
“Why would you? Your home lies in a distant place, over the Snowy Mountains – does it not?”
“Yes.”
“Whereabouts?”
“Delvare.”
“Ah,” said the Princess. “Portentia – the unruled land what lies betwixt the sea and the Western nations. I have heard that it is a wild place.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” said Heidi. “At least, no more so than any other place.”
The Princess laughed, and Heidi was, for a moment, proud of the accomplishment.
“You are right enough about that,” said the Princess. “I suppose that this place should be considered worse than your own; as any place that lies so near to the Sorceress must be the very worst there is.”
“And how long has it been this way?”
“If you were to ask several different people, they would give you several different answers. For myself, I would say that nothing has been the same, since the Day of the Sacrifice.”
Rather than voicing the inquiry, Heidi simply gave her a questioning look.
“It was the day Dain Aerca committed her first murder,” she went on. “A small child, little more than an infant. It was part of a ritual to strengthen her own Power. Before that day, her Power was nothing in comparison to my mother’s. She would never have conquered anything more than the few cities which she had already frightened into submission.”
Though it was truly a horrifying story – Heidi could not help but feel more curious than horrified. So she asked, “How long ago did that happen?”
“It will have been twelve years, come March. And I must needs admit, that the Sorceress has made a great deal of mischief in that time. Strong nations led by mighty Kings have been slower in the process of conquering lands. She holds most of those lands to the South of Onssgaard, and has filled them with city-dwellers who pledge allegiance to her. These are ordinary men, neither Lumarian nor Narkul. There has recently been a great deal of trouble concerning people from the South – or from the Rise, as it is called
– invading and ransacking lands to the immediate West, which are known singularly as the Bowl. They have been pleading with me to send forces to their aid; but how can I spare them? We ourselves are much closer to the threat, and stand to lose much more in case of attack.”
“Have the Dúnanen come often to Onssgaard?”
“Not as often as you would expect,” said the Princess. “But it is all a part of her game. Rather than breaking us down by smaller attacks, she would choose to crush us all at once.” She sighed heavily. “It is really only a matter of time.”
Deciding that that was quite a low enough point in itself, Heidi considered the subject done with for the moment. She did not plan to say anything else; but suddenly remembered, seemingly out of nowhere, the portrait which had hung behind the Princess in the Rally Room. So she asked, more for conversation’s sake, than anything else: “Where is your brother?”
The Princess only moved her head in suspicion. “How do you know about my brother?”
“I am very sorry,” said Heidi, instantly regretting having said anything at all. “I only saw him in the portrait this morning, and wondered why I had not seen anything of him. Please forgive me, if I have said something other than I should.”
“No apology is in order,” said the Princess, relaxing once again in her chair. “But you must forgive me. With all that has happened, I tend to think the worst of everything I hear.”
Heidi only nodded.
“He has been taken by the Sorceress,” said the Princess; and it seemed that she was trying very hard to keep a check upon her emotions. It was, in Heidi’s opinion, not quite as obvious as with other people; and indeed looked as nothing more than an extra blink of the eyes; but Heidi was convinced, that she was not quite as steely as she made herself out to be.
“He has been gone for some days now,” she went on. “There is no way to find him as of yet. I suppose that I can only pray for his strength to continue, and for some way to put an end to this madness.”
Heidi offered no condolence, and did not try to think of comforting words. What comfort could there be for her now? There was no doubt that she felt just as Heidi did; and Heidi knew that there was nothing anyone could say, to ease her own grief.
Rising from her seat, the Princess offered Heidi another smile, quite free of any previous sadness or doubt. Yet it was forced this time, meant to cover something that she had not intended to show. “I should really be getting to bed,” she said, “but you are welcome to stay here, as long as you like.”
Heidi watched her go from the room. She left one of the doors ajar in her wake; and Heidi stared for a long while into the darkness of the hall. Then she turned back to the table, and fixed her eyes upon the burning candle. She sat alone for a while in its dim circle of light, till the shadows it cast grew more fearsome than pleasant.
>
She left her seat, extinguished the flame, and hurried out into the shadows of the hall.
XX: In the Tunnels of Death Rock Mountain
Deep within that Eastern mountain, there were miles and miles of rock cleared away to create tall, wide tunnels. It was the home of the Lumaria.
Jade lay motionless for days upon the stone floor, curled up against the wall so that none might tread upon her, as they travelled to and fro. She kept her face hidden in her arms, and hoped a little more each hour that she only dreamt; that she would wake in Delvare, beside a sleeping Heidi. Josephine would be alive; and would be asleep in her small room off the parlour, rising eventually to complain of Dera’s snoring, quite as she did every morning. Then they would all breakfast together, and Jade would go with Heidi to deliver a load of silver to John Skyler.
She prayed and prayed for the nightmare to end, keeping her eyes shut tight so that she would not have to see, what was not real. For, surely, none of it could be real.
It was far too terrible.
But each time she woke from sleep, and realised that she still was trapped within those dark tunnels, a little of her hope did die. Day by day, it became less and less dreamlike, and evolved slowly into what reality she had tried so hard to stave off. Even as she thought of home, and of those things which existed outside the walls of the tunnels, her thoughts turned darker.
Before she fell asleep again, she thought of Heidi, and summoned up her fair face from somewhere deep inside her heart. She tried to make her smile, but could not get past the expression of disappointment that was etched across her face. She tried to remember something that might lighten the blackness behind her eyes, but found that she could think of nothing but ill things. She fell asleep to Heidi’s frowning face, and dreamt of a tarnished day years past.
The morning sun was peeking through the high window above the bed. Jade opened her eyes slowly, but shut them again when the bright yellow light fell into them. She turned her face into the pillow, and tried to fall back asleep; but to no avail. She turned onto her back, and rubbed at her tired eyes that had gotten so little sleep, but which seemed unable to keep themselves closed.
When she grew tired of staring at the ceiling, she rolled back towards the wall, and watched the steady rise and fall of Heidi’s right side. Her back, which was all that Jade could see of her, was only partway covered by the blanket. Jade realised, then, that she had never seen that part of Heidi before; that indeed she had always tried to hide that part of herself from Jade.
The reason for such became evident now. It was a heavy discovery for such an early hour, and left Jade in a terrible predicament, as she debated whether or not she would wake Heidi to question her. But then she thought better of it, and left herself to her wondering.
She pulled the blanket down to the small of Heidi’s back, as slowly and gently as she could manage. She held her palm just over the skin, wanting to touch it, but not certain that she should. She looked upon the long lines of scar tissue that covered the soft white skin; she touched them ever so lightly with one fingertip, feeling their strange smoothness. They were wide as well as long, stretching from the base of Heidi’s neck, to the place where the blanket now lay. If there were more beneath it, Jade could not stand to know.
“What is this?” she whispered, laying her hand upon the uneven skin. She could not take her eyes from it.
Whether she heard Jade’s voice, or felt her touch, or perhaps simply sensed eyes fixed upon a thing she wanted not to be seen, Heidi woke with a start, and rolled wildly onto her back. She breathed heavily, and clutched the blanket to her chest, staring at Jade as if she had caught her in the midst of an unspeakable act.
Jade reached out to touch her arm, but she pulled away with a shudder.
“I’m sorry,” said Jade. “I’m sorry, Heidi.”
Rather than answer, Heidi retrieved a blanket from the foot of the bed, and wrapped it round herself.
“Heidi.”
She turned her head towards Jade, heeding the sound of her voice but saying nothing.
“I shall forget it, if you wish me to.”
“I do.”
“All right.”
“Don’t think about it, either,” said Heidi, pulling the blanket tighter.
“That’s not such an easy thing to promise,” said Jade, reaching once again in an attempt to take Heidi’s hand. She expected her to recoil again; and was surprised when she moved not a muscle. She even squeezed Jade’s hand in response, though her eyes were turned towards the wall.
“I won’t say anything,” said Jade. “But you can say anything you like.”
Heidi looked at her, seeming to measure the verity of her pledge. “I don’t want to say anything,” she said. “At least not right now – if it’s all the same to you.”
She placed a hand on either side of her head, and buried her face in her knees. She moved away when Jade touched her; but Jade took her anyway into her arms, holding tightly to her, even as she fought against her. It took her a long while to be still – and Jade was left with several bruises what proved the angst that she felt. Yet finally she ceased to struggle, and fell back against Jade, as they sank down to the pillows.
Jade separated herself a little from her body, so that she might look again upon the scars. Heidi trembled; but Jade pressed her forehead against her back, and kept her arms wrapped tightly round her even as she shivered – long into the morning, in a cold wind that only she could feel.
Jade snapped awake, covered in sweat, and shaking upon the chill stone. She looked all around, and tried to make out a shape through the thick darkness; but her eyes had not yet become the kind that the Lumaria possessed, which had sight in any amount of blackness. She could see nothing, but could hear many feet as they passed.
Hour by hour, it became more difficult to fall asleep. She struck her head against the floor, so that she might render herself unconscious. But it only hurt.
She lay like that for she knew not how long, twisting and turning, screaming and crying. They had to have heard her; but they acknowledged her not at all. Time passed at a crawl.
Just when her mind felt on the verge of splitting in two, she heard a voice just above her. She opened her eyes, but could see nothing. She did not hear what had been said, and so said nothing in return. She reached for her sword, as she seemed to do every time she was startled – but realised, as she upon each prior occasion, that it was not there. They had taken it.
“Have you lain here long enough?”
Jade knew who spoke, but refused to answer. She had longed for an end to her isolation, and for someone to talk to – but she wished not to speak with a monster.
“I let you alone for three days. I know you are in pain – but you are making a fool of yourself.”
“I don’t care,” said Jade, rolling away towards the wall. A strong hand caught her by the shoulder, and pulled her back.
“It is time to accept your fate. Come with me now, or I will kill you.”
“I beg you, please,” said Jade, reaching to grab at the hands that held her. “Only do it.”
There was a moment of silence, wherein the hands grasped her more tightly; though in comfort or loathing she could not tell. She let her head drop back down to the stone.
“Get up.”
“I can’t,” she whispered, arms hanging limply from the grasping hands.
“You can, and you will. You are fortunate that I was sent for you. Any of the others would have killed you already.”
Jade began to sob, her breath catching as it thrust in an out. She had never felt so alone, or so hopeless.
“You wish now for death, but it will not always be so. Rise up now, and come with me. We shall pass these hours of misery together; and you shall see life for what it is. You will wake, renewed – and you will be glad that my hand showed you mercy.”
Jade only shook her head slowly, slowly back and forth, as a dog whose master has been slayed.
“Com
e with me now. Rise up, and walk with me into the dark. You will see that it is not a thing to be feared.”
Unable to find either a way or a reason to avoid this act, Jade held tightly to the slender arms that supported her unbalance. She leaned heavily against them, as they encircled her; and walked with their strength down the long tunnel. She knew not where she was being led, but she did not honestly care. She had been forsaken, and any place now was as empty as the one before it.
XXI: The Time That Bides
As Jade walked blind through the stone halls of Death Rock Mountain, and Heidi sat alone in the study of William Bier, Dain Aerca dined with Biscayne and his company in the great feasting hall on the topmost level of her fortress.
“All has gone according to plan, and is getting on exceedingly well,” said Biscayne. “It should be only a few days until her transformation is complete.”
“I am very pleased,” said Dain. “I knew that you would not disappoint me.”
“That I wouldn’t, Sorceress. But may I ask: What purpose do you have in store for the girl? It must be something very great, for the attempt of such an imperfect process.”
“I do have plans for her,” said Dain. “They would not come to fruition, if you had not managed to change her; but I would have been satisfied even with her death.”
“What are your plans?”
“I will tell you when the time is nearer. Settle now for my gratitude, to you and your company.”
Biscayne nodded in thanks, and then went back to his meal. Before the Sorceress had been set a small cut of cooked beef; but the Lumaria supped on heaping plates of raw meat. Just for the occasion, Dain had had several prisoners executed.
“I could be mistaken, Biscayne,” said Dain, counting the heads of the Lumaria, “but I am almost certain that there were six in your company.”
“There were, my liege.”
“Where are the missing two?”
“During the clash that took place before the infection, the girl slayed she who was called Qoera, along with three of the Narken who accompanied us.”
Broken Earth Page 24