Queen's Sacrifice Page 2

  “It’s okay,” he replied. “I’m sorry I let them in. They used the right knock.”

  “They must have seen me use it,” Kala added. “I should have noticed that I was being watched instead of being lost in thought. I’ll be more careful from now on.”

  “No harm done,” said Celeste. “I already have a new scheme of secret knocks worked out.”

  “You really should have been a spy,” Kala told her.

  “With these good looks?” she replied. “I’d hardly pass unnoticed.”

  They all laughed at her modesty.

  “Those roots aren’t going to dig themselves up,” Celeste concluded and turned back toward the gardens.

  “You know I love you, right?” Lily asked Kala, putting an arm around her.

  “It’s one of the few things that keeps me going,” Kala replied and put an arm around her too.

  Soren

  Soren looked across the tent at his advisors. Lennox was in the middle of explaining his thoughts about the potential breach in Bayre’s security provided by the broken grate on one of its sewer outflow tunnels. Seline was actually concurring with his assessment, which was rare enough that Soren was distracted by it.

  “The opening is just too small for a sizable enough force to enter the city,” Lennox lamented. “I had a man try to widen the opening, and he sawed at it all day, only to ruin a dozen saws making an incision shallower than his fingernail.”

  “They’re made of hardened steel. I examined them myself. Of course, he failed,” Seline chastised him.

  Lennox took umbrage at being called out. “Whatever broke the grate in the first place had to have been unnatural,” he defended himself.

  “On the contrary,” Seline countered, “it was probably water and time.” Lennox looked at her uncomprehendingly, prompting her to question why she ever thought she could explain anything to the man.

  Soren took advantage of the pause in their bickering to tell Seline, “I don’t like you putting yourself at risk,” referring to her examining the grate within bow range of the city’s archers.

  “I wasn’t at any risk,” she countered. “The city’s defenders seem loathe to provoke us. They’re probably worried it will hasten an attack. Besides, I was just a woman scurrying over the rocks – hardly a threat.”

  Soren thought to himself, You’re anything but ‘just a woman,’ but he kept it to himself.

  Discussion of the tunnels seemed to be concluded for the moment, so Seline moved on. “About the amnesty…,” she began.

  Soren nodded encouragement for her to continue, despite his concerns about Lennox’s possible reaction.

  “Should we move forward with offering amnesty to the city’s fighting men to join us and safe passage out of the city for non-combatants?”

  Soren glanced at Lennox and surprised to find him nodding in agreement.

  Lennox picked up on Soren’s skepticism. “It’s a great idea,” he offered. “We lure them out, then slaughter them. It will crush the spirit of anyone still in the city.” He leaned back, smiling.

  “No, we honor the amnesty,” Soren explained.

  Lennox made a confused face as though he was pained to have to explain the obvious to a child. It pissed Soren off.

  “If I don’t honor my word, I will spread that my word is worth nothing,” Soren elaborated.

  “A person’s word is worth what people think it’s worth,” Lennox countered.

  Soren’s head hurt trying to follow the man’s logic, so he gave up trying. “We do it my way,” he concluded. Really, it was Seline’s way, but Soren preferred his advisors not be at odds, so if taking credit for Seline’s idea shielded her from Lennox’s ire, it’s what Soren would do.

  “You’re the boss,” Lennox conceded, but his tone did not convey enthusiasm.

  Soren ignored it. It was just part of dealing with him. “Is there anything else?” he asked his advisors.

  Seline piped up. “Just that when we move on, I suggest we concentrate on sacking fishing villages up and down the coast to replenish our stores.”

  Soren thought about the city they’d recently bypassed for Bayre. It was the seat of the Church, and he hated leaving it standing a moment longer than necessary – the Church had never done him any kindnesses. However, what Seline suggested made sense. “Good thinking,” he agreed. “Our main body will move south along the coast, and we’ll send some forces north to add to our resupply.”

  Having addressed all of her concerns, and Lennox appearing to have none, Seline packed up her papers, stepped out, and walked away. Lennox followed suit.

  Soren called to his guards. “Prepare my horse,” he commanded. One of the men strode off, and Soren turned his attention to putting on his armor. Must look the part of the conqueror, he thought disdainfully. Once dressed, he covered up in a cloak, which he’d wear until he arrived at the stables. He would have preferred if his horse was brought to his tent, given that he thought it stupid to continue to obscure where in the camp he resided when it seemed pretty clear that the enemy had figured it out when they’d spirited away Cera. But, protocol was protocol.

  Once at the stables, he discarded the cloak and mounted his horse. He trotted toward the city – his soldiers clearing a path. He stopped just short of the range of the archers on the walls and waited a moment for his presence to be noted. He needn’t have bothered waiting as they had watched his approach the entire way and were already waiting for him to say what he intended to.

  He cleared his throat. “People of Bayre,” he called up to the wall loudly, “I am not without mercy. I offer amnesty to any man or woman of fighting age that chooses to join us. Further, I offer safe passage to anyone not of fighting age who chooses to leave the city. In two days, I will pull my forces back from your gates to let anyone coming out do so without fear of imperiling the city. You have two days to decide.” He spurred his horse, turned, and cantered back to the stables.

  Forest

  Forest stood in the doorway, staring into the same piercing blue eyes as Soren’s. She had no doubt that she’d finally found his mother.

  “Your son is alive, ma’am,” she told her.

  The woman swayed slightly and gripped the doorframe to steady herself. She regained her composure and looked sternly at Forest. “If this is some sick dare that you and your friends…,” she began.

  “You used to sing to him to sleep, even when he was too old for it,” Forest interrupted. “Your husband would stay up with him and point out the constellations. He had a dog…”

  The woman’s breath caught, and her legs gave out. Forest barely caught her before she fell.

  “May I come in?” Forest asked, helping her to stand.

  The woman nodded in shock.

  Forest stepped into the living room, which lay under a thick layer of clutter, which itself lay under a thick layer of dust.

  The woman looked about the room with a touch of shame. “Sorry, I don’t get visitors,” she apologized. “Please sit down, and I’ll make you tea,” she added, thinking that the distraction would help her collect her wits.

  “Tea would be nice, thank you,” Forest replied and moved a pile of clothing off a chair to sit down while the woman hunted for a kettle. She struggled to locate it, her heart and mind both racing. She willed herself to calm down and noticed the kettle in the sink. She filled it with water, carried it to the fireplace, and hung it on a hook, then sat down on the sofa facing Forest, her hands shaking.

  “Forgive me if I don’t trust that this is real,” she began, rubbing her hands to still them.

  “I understand,” Forest comforted her. “I assure you that it is.” Forest placed her own hands in her lap. “Pardon me for not introducing myself. I’m Forest.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Forest. I’m Petra.” She lowered her hands to her sides, then decided to wedge them under her legs. She mustered the courage to ask, “How is my son?”

  “He is well,” Forest assured her.

  Rel
ief flooded through Petra, but doubts nagged her. “How do you know him?” she asked.

  “I come from far east of here. That’s where I met him.”

  “How is it that you come to be here, but not him, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “Your son couldn’t be here because he is preoccupied, but undoubtedly would be if he could. He doesn’t know that I’m here. He doesn’t even know that it’s possible that I could be here.” Forest paused, uncertain whether to reveal how it was possible. She decided she should. “I’ve been shown how to control the airships. Very few people know this even can be done, let alone how.”

  “So, he didn’t send you?” she asked, crestfallen.

  “In a way, he did.” Forest braced herself and leaned forward. “I need your help.”

  The kettle began whistling, interrupting her, but Petra seemed not to hear it.

  “The kettle, ma’am,” Forest pointed out.

  “Oh, right,” she replied, coming to her senses. She got up and reached to take it off its hook.

  “It’s hot!” Forest warned her, just in time to stop her from scalding her bare hand on the metal. “Perhaps I should get it,” she added, rising and politely shooing Petra back to her seat. Forest picked up a dishtowel and used it to insulate her hand while carrying the kettle to the kitchen. She rummaged around for a couple of cups and located a tin of tea on the counter. She prepared two cups of tea and brought them to the living room, handing one to Petra on a saucer before returning to sit down with the other one.

  Petra took the dish, but her trembling hand made the cup rattle, so she put it on the table. “You say you need my help?”

  “Yes.” She put down her own cup. “Pardon me, but I’ll speak frankly.” She gauged Petra’s readiness before continuing. “Your son is consumed with rage. He feels betrayed by the world.”

  Tears began to flow down Petra’s cheeks, but she nodded for her to continue.

  “He leads an army that lays waste to everything and everyone in its path while he tries to assuage his anger.” Petra seemed unable to absorb this information, but Forest pressed on regardless. “If you’re willing, I’d like your help in convincing him that the world hasn’t thrown him aside.”

  This was too much for Petra, and she stood, unsteadily. “Give me a moment,” she said and stumbled through the clutter to the bathroom. She failed to close the door fully, and Forest could see her hunched over the sink sobbing.

  Forest shifted uncomfortably in her chair, waiting for her return.

  She emerged a few moments later, having dried her tears. “What can I do?” she asked stoically.

  “Come with me, and I’ll take you to him. Pack lightly, but dress warmly.”

  ________________________

  Forest warmed her hands by the small flame of the burner that Petra had acquired for their journey by bartering what few possessions she still had. She’d told Forest that she didn’t plan on returning home, come what may. She was able to buy provisions that would last most of the way east.

  Petra looked across the compartment and examined Forest. “You’re skin and bones, girl. Forgive me for not noticing before. I was befuddled. Are you all right?”

  “I’m okay, thank you. It took me a long time to find you, and I didn’t have much to sustain myself while I searched.”

  Forest’s sorry state compounded the guilt that Petra felt. “I’m sorry about that, but I’m glad you found me in the end.” She reached for some hard bread and handed it to Forest. “You should eat something.”

  Forest politely refused. “We should conserve what we have. It’s a long journey.”

  Petra was silent for a while as she sat thinking. “At my house, you said that my son feels thrown away. How can he feel that way, knowing how much his father and I love him?”

  Forest debated softening what she said, but decided ultimately that Petra needed to understand her son fully if she was going to reach him. “He thinks you abandoned him,” she said finally.

  The blunt statement stabbed Petra through the heart, and she sat silently for a long while before replying. “My son’s name was chosen by secret lottery when the airship came. Armed guards came to our house and took him to the holding cells. When his father came home and discovered that he’d been taken, he concocted an ill-conceived plan to rescue him. Apparently, that’s pretty common, and because it was anticipated, he was easily caught and imprisoned. I was arrested too, under suspicion of aiding him, and we were both still in jail when our son was escorted to the airship and sent away. We were released immediately afterward, but I couldn’t forgive my husband, and he couldn’t forgive himself. We separated, and he took to drinking. He drank himself to death within a few moons. Soren’s dog sat on the stoop, waiting for him to return. He waited year after year until one day he was just gone, and I was alone. I thought about my son every moment of every day. We never abandoned him.”

  Forest mulled it over. She’d too easily accepted Soren’s view because she felt abandoned by her own mother, but in truth, it was Petra that had been abandoned, being left behind by her son, her husband, even her son’s pet. Forest wondered if Lily felt abandoned by her. She hadn’t spent much time with her sister since their father’s death, and then she’d left her in Bayre to ride north with her adopted family, Jarom and Nara. She’d deserted them too, as well as Addis, who’d be nothing but kind to her after their rough introduction. Am I becoming my mother? she wondered and vowed to make family a priority when she returned to Bayre, if the world allowed it.

  “Where did the airship take him?” Petra asked, interrupting Forest’s thoughts.

  “A hard place in the far north. He survived it, but I think it changed him, fed his anger, and solidified his resolve.”

  “He always was a sensitive child. The world isn’t fair,” Petra responded, more to herself than to Forest.

  Forest looked over their supplies. “We should land so I can hunt for food to last us the rest of our trip,” she said. “We’ll stop at my village. I know where to find game.”

  Petra wrapped herself tightly in blankets and closed her eyes.

  ________________________

  As the airship landed, Forest stood at the door and warned Petra, “Brace yourself. I expect my village won’t be in great shape.” Forest herself hadn’t seen it since she’d fled and wasn’t prepared for the quiet as she stepped out of the ship. She’d readied herself for the ruin, but not the silence. When she closed her eyes, it was as though her village had never been. She opened them to the remains of familiar structures, but it felt ghostly.

  Petra exited the ship behind her and stepped around her to survey the village. “My son did this?” she asked, shocked.

  “His army, yes.”

  Petra was paralyzed. “Why?”

  “Anger. Loss.”

  “We can’t stay here,” Petra said, agitated. “I have to go to him. I have to stop this.”

  “We have to eat,” Forest reminded her. “I’ll hunt, and we’ll leave as quickly as we can. Can you start a fire?”

  Petra wavered but accepted that she had to defer to Forest’s judgment. “Yes – I think so. I’ll try.”

  Forest stepped back into the ship and grabbed her bow and a quiver of arrows. It felt odd in her hand, as though she had somehow traveled back in time. She shook off the feeling and headed toward the woods.

  It was near dark when she returned, but she could see from the treeline that Petra had been successful in getting a fire going. Forest shifted the game to her other shoulder and trudged toward the fire. Getting closer, she didn’t see Petra, so she called out, “I’m back. Hunting was good. We’ll be out of here in no time.”

  “Forest,” Petra called back, forcing Forest to seek out her voice. Forest spotted her, knife at her throat, with a shifty-looking man standing behind her.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” he said.

  Kala

  The day on which Soren had promised Bayre immunity for deserters arrived,
and people began congregating in the streets, waking Kala with the unusual sound of activity in a city that had been eerily quiet for moons. Today would be a day of tough decisions for many people, she reckoned. She looked at the leathers at the foot of her bed but opted instead to dress casually – she didn’t want to be recognized as the de facto symbol of Bayre’s defense. Let people decide their fate without my interference, she thought. She didn’t bother checking the kitchens for food, knowing the cupboards had been bare for days, and just slipped out the temple gates into the gathering crowd. She kept her head down and moved with it toward the city’s gate.

  Skinny children and gaunt elderly shuffled past her, straining to carry what they could in bundles in their arms and packs on their backs. They looked exhausted, hungry, desperate, and ready to take their chances in the terrifyingly unfamiliar world outside the city. Kala understood the preference of many to face death moving forward, rather than waiting for it to come to them.

  Men and women of fighting-age also moved with the crowd, keeping their heads down in shame. They’d chosen survival, even if it meant becoming the enemy of their neighbors, friends, and family. Kala acknowledged their numbers dispiritedly but did not judge them.

  Families argued. A young mother pleaded with her son not to leave. He pulled away in his ill-fitting armor and as she begged him to come back. Kala passed a woman trying to convince her elderly parents to join her. They held hands and steadfastly refused. “This is our home. If we’re to die, we’ll die here,” they told her. Kala hurried past, feeling like an intruder.

  From up ahead, she began to hear demands of, “Open the gate!” and the number of voices calling for it grew steadily. The gate guards drew their weapons and took up defensive positions as the crowd edged forward. The citizens gripped their own weapons, and tensions grew. A stone was thrown that bounced off a guard’s armor. This is what Soren wants, Kala thought angrily, for us to fight each other and save him the trouble.