“Please don’t kill me!” the girl begged. “I don’t want to die! Please! I promise that if you let me live, I’ll save your life someday!”
I laughed at the kid. She was in her twenties, not really a kid, but she was. “Even if my life needed saving, what makes you think you could do it?” I don’t know why I even bothered to ask. Just for the fun of it, I guess.
“C’mon, you don’t have any enemies? And I’ll save your life because I promised, and I keep my promises!”
I didn’t care about her damn promise, but she amused me, so I took my knife from her neck and used it to cut the ropes I’d tied her with. “Fine, go on, get out of here,” I told her.
She jumped up, happy to be free, and I thought she was about to run away, okay, actually I kinda thought she was about to skip away. But she just stood there.
“What’re you sticking around for? Get out of here!”
“No. I have to save your life.”
“It’s okay, I’m not holding you to that. Go home!”
“No. I keep my promises.”
“Think of it as you’ll be saving my life by not telling anyone about this.”
“No, you wouldn’t hang just for scaring me a bit.”
“No, I’d hang for the gold.”
She was standing right next to a pile of the coins, and she picked one up and ran it through her fingers. “What gold?”
“Exactly. If you told anyone I was making money, I would hang. So you’re saving my life by not telling anyone. Now go!”
“It doesn’t work like that.”
If I’d really wanted her gone, I could have driven her away at knifepoint. Maybe. Or I could’ve just killed her. But by that point I didn’t figure she was any danger to me, so I didn’t care that much.
So the girl--her name was Ellie, she told me--stuck around. She didn’t quite become part off my crew, since she didn’t do any of the stealing or killing or even working the coin press-- but she was as good as. I introduced her to Fape, my second in command, as my bodyguard.
“What the hell?” he asked. “Her? Really, man, if you need a bodyguard, you can do better.”
“She wants to save my life.”
He guffawed. “Well, I guess it’s better than if she wanted to save your immortal soul.”
We all pretty much just got used to having Ellie around. Nobody ever took the idea that she’d save my life seriously. Until she saved my life, of course.
It happened just about like you’d expect, if you expected it. I was meeting an, erm, client, unarmed, because that’s how that kind of thing goes and they patted me down to make sure. Ellie tagged along. She was also unarmed, of course, I don’t think I ever saw her touch a weapon. I turned over the goods to the man I was meeting. Rather than turning over the money, he pulled a knife.
Before I could even react, Ellie jumped in front of me and punched the man in the nose. He was even more surprised at I was, so Ellie was able to grab the knife easy, and we got out of there.
“I told you I keep my promises,” Ellie told me, and was gone.
That night, our hideout was raided, and we were all arrested. They said they’d been tipped off by a young woman.
Ellie never did promise not to rat us out. I’ll be out in a few months, and I’m still alive. So I don’t hold any grudges.
Showing posts with label rescue. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rescue. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Monday, September 28, 2009
Witchcraft
Usually, I stay in my little house deep in the woods, alone with my books and my cats and the herbs I gather in the forest. But every once in a while, I forget that I don’t like people very much, and that’s when the trouble begins.
It started out, this time, with a boy--he would have called himself a young man, but he was a boy--found half dead in the forest and brought to my home. This happens occasionally; the forest is a dangerous place for adventurers and poachers and other fools who don’t know what they’re doing. Usually it’s alright. I fix them up, let them stay until they’re better, or I can’t stand them anymore, and send them on their way to continue poaching or adventuring, or, if they have any sense, to go home.
Jakon was more sensible than most, and also worse off than most. As a result, he stayed in my cottage for a while. He never told me what he’d been doing in the forest, and I never asked. Our conversations consisted of me telling him to drink this or lie still while I set a bone or changed a bandage. The only somewhat social interaction I had with him was when he asked what I was reading and I showed him the cover of the book. What can I say, I’m not really a people-person. Jakon was okay, though. He didn’t yatter nonstop and he liked my cats. He recovered better than I would have expected, though he had a limp. He understood that it was something of a miracle, that he’d recovered as well as he had, and was duly grateful. So he went home, and my life continued as normal. For a few months, at least.
And then there was a knock at my door. I ignored it. The knocking continued, and I continued to ignore it. But a few hours later, I opened the door to go outside, and nearly tripped over Jakon, who was sitting on my doorstep.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded.
“Vayran, I need your help.” Even when he’d been at death’s door, he’d never sounded so desperate. I should have known better than to get involved.
But I have to admit, I was rather fond of the boy, so I didn’t tell him to go to hell. At first, I was just going to hear his story before sending him away. But somehow, that wasn’t how it worked out.
“It’s Celidh. My sister. She’s been accused of witchcraft.”
“Why did you come to me? What do you think I can do?”
Jakon looked away. “You’re the only one there is.”
“Is there a reason she’s accused of witchcraft?”
“No, they’re accusing everyone. Doesn’t make her any less likely to die, though.”
Great, I thought. Not only am I considering going into an area occupied by crowds of people, but it’s one in which there’s a witch scare. I knew I was a fool for even considering it. If anyone would be though to be a witch, it was me.
As you may have guessed, I went.
The town was far enough that had I stayed home, I wouldn’t have been sought out; the journey long enough to give me time to regret my decision. With every step I took I berated myself for my idiocy, but I didn’t turn back.
I’d thought to do a simple jailbreak, but when we arrived in the town, a small crowd was gathered around a fountain. At the fountain, two men appeared to be trying to drown a girl. By Jakon’s expression, I could tell it was his sister.
“Hey!” I yelled. People turned to stare at me. I had some vague idea in mind of either convincing the people what idiots they were--that never works, and I usually know it-- or creating a distraction. What happened was that, when everyone had turned to look at me, someone cried, “Witch!” and everyone took up the cry.
As I said, trying to convince people how stupid they are never works, but I was angry, so I wasn‘t being particularly sensible. “You’re fools,” I screamed. “If I was a witch, do you really think you’d be able to do anything against me? You’re farmers.”
“Get her!” someone screamed, and they rushed towards me. I like people even less than I normally do when they’ve formed into a mob, and even less than that when the mob is trying to grab me.
So I was too angry to think straight, and I called up as much force as I could muster and shoved it around. I’m not really a very murderous person, so nothing happened to the mob, but all the buildings in the town began to go up in flames.
The people stared at me. I don’t know why they were so surprised; they’d known I was a witch, hadn’t they?
I don’t know whether they would have came after me as they’d planned or backed away in horror, but they didn’t get the chance to do either. In the distraction, Jakon had managed to sneak up to the fountain and grab Ceilidh. The three of us ran. Not fast, Jakon couldn’t with his limp, and Kelia was still half-drowned, but we ran. I didn’t even stop to put out the flames. Let them have something more to deal with than torturing innocent people.
Jakon and Ceilidh stayed with me for a few weeks, long enough to be sure no one was coming after us, before leaving to find a new home. Ceilidh came back a few days later. Jakon had gotten a job as a printer--apparently that was what he did, though why a printer had gotten half-killed wandering in the woods I have no idea--and it payed enough for him to rent a small house, and Ceilidh could have stayed with him for a while…. But what she really wanted was to learn magic, and wouldn’t I please teach her?
I told her I’d think about it, and after doing so, against my better judgment, agreed. So I went back to my peaceful--if somewhat less solitary--life. Somewhat less peaceful, now that I think about it, what with Ceilidh accidentally blowing things up and such, but I did the same, when I was first learning, and at least no angry mobs are involved.
It started out, this time, with a boy--he would have called himself a young man, but he was a boy--found half dead in the forest and brought to my home. This happens occasionally; the forest is a dangerous place for adventurers and poachers and other fools who don’t know what they’re doing. Usually it’s alright. I fix them up, let them stay until they’re better, or I can’t stand them anymore, and send them on their way to continue poaching or adventuring, or, if they have any sense, to go home.
Jakon was more sensible than most, and also worse off than most. As a result, he stayed in my cottage for a while. He never told me what he’d been doing in the forest, and I never asked. Our conversations consisted of me telling him to drink this or lie still while I set a bone or changed a bandage. The only somewhat social interaction I had with him was when he asked what I was reading and I showed him the cover of the book. What can I say, I’m not really a people-person. Jakon was okay, though. He didn’t yatter nonstop and he liked my cats. He recovered better than I would have expected, though he had a limp. He understood that it was something of a miracle, that he’d recovered as well as he had, and was duly grateful. So he went home, and my life continued as normal. For a few months, at least.
And then there was a knock at my door. I ignored it. The knocking continued, and I continued to ignore it. But a few hours later, I opened the door to go outside, and nearly tripped over Jakon, who was sitting on my doorstep.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded.
“Vayran, I need your help.” Even when he’d been at death’s door, he’d never sounded so desperate. I should have known better than to get involved.
But I have to admit, I was rather fond of the boy, so I didn’t tell him to go to hell. At first, I was just going to hear his story before sending him away. But somehow, that wasn’t how it worked out.
“It’s Celidh. My sister. She’s been accused of witchcraft.”
“Why did you come to me? What do you think I can do?”
Jakon looked away. “You’re the only one there is.”
“Is there a reason she’s accused of witchcraft?”
“No, they’re accusing everyone. Doesn’t make her any less likely to die, though.”
Great, I thought. Not only am I considering going into an area occupied by crowds of people, but it’s one in which there’s a witch scare. I knew I was a fool for even considering it. If anyone would be though to be a witch, it was me.
As you may have guessed, I went.
The town was far enough that had I stayed home, I wouldn’t have been sought out; the journey long enough to give me time to regret my decision. With every step I took I berated myself for my idiocy, but I didn’t turn back.
I’d thought to do a simple jailbreak, but when we arrived in the town, a small crowd was gathered around a fountain. At the fountain, two men appeared to be trying to drown a girl. By Jakon’s expression, I could tell it was his sister.
“Hey!” I yelled. People turned to stare at me. I had some vague idea in mind of either convincing the people what idiots they were--that never works, and I usually know it-- or creating a distraction. What happened was that, when everyone had turned to look at me, someone cried, “Witch!” and everyone took up the cry.
As I said, trying to convince people how stupid they are never works, but I was angry, so I wasn‘t being particularly sensible. “You’re fools,” I screamed. “If I was a witch, do you really think you’d be able to do anything against me? You’re farmers.”
“Get her!” someone screamed, and they rushed towards me. I like people even less than I normally do when they’ve formed into a mob, and even less than that when the mob is trying to grab me.
So I was too angry to think straight, and I called up as much force as I could muster and shoved it around. I’m not really a very murderous person, so nothing happened to the mob, but all the buildings in the town began to go up in flames.
The people stared at me. I don’t know why they were so surprised; they’d known I was a witch, hadn’t they?
I don’t know whether they would have came after me as they’d planned or backed away in horror, but they didn’t get the chance to do either. In the distraction, Jakon had managed to sneak up to the fountain and grab Ceilidh. The three of us ran. Not fast, Jakon couldn’t with his limp, and Kelia was still half-drowned, but we ran. I didn’t even stop to put out the flames. Let them have something more to deal with than torturing innocent people.
Jakon and Ceilidh stayed with me for a few weeks, long enough to be sure no one was coming after us, before leaving to find a new home. Ceilidh came back a few days later. Jakon had gotten a job as a printer--apparently that was what he did, though why a printer had gotten half-killed wandering in the woods I have no idea--and it payed enough for him to rent a small house, and Ceilidh could have stayed with him for a while…. But what she really wanted was to learn magic, and wouldn’t I please teach her?
I told her I’d think about it, and after doing so, against my better judgment, agreed. So I went back to my peaceful--if somewhat less solitary--life. Somewhat less peaceful, now that I think about it, what with Ceilidh accidentally blowing things up and such, but I did the same, when I was first learning, and at least no angry mobs are involved.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Rebellion
“I can’t believe we’re finally going to do this!” I said excitedly.
“Yep. By the day after tomorrow, Loifle will be a better place, thanks to us. The plan is in motion. You, Carthi, Jek, and Roan will be standing guard, I’ll be making the preparations and implementing the getaway, and Hesethi will be the one to actually do the killing.” Saola beamed at him.
I froze. “Wait. We’re going to kill the king?”
Everyone stared at me. “Yes, Isletia, that is the point,” Saola told me exasperatedly. “We haven’t been planning this for two years just to, what, take him captive? Let him step down? Force him into exile? Tyranny must end; we kill him.”
“It’s for the best,” Hesethi said, more kindly.
“But… I thought we all agreed he isn’t really that bad, mostly.”
“It’s the principal of the thing, dear,” said Saola in her most patronizing tone. “You’re free to back out if you like, of course.”
I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to. I agreed wholeheartedly that monarchy is tyranny and the only fair government is one that governs itself; I wanted to help bring democracy and equality and justice to Loifle. I just wasn’t quite sure about the means.
But I hadn’t been involved in the plot for two years just to drop out at the last moment. “No, I’m in.” I wanted to try to convince them that it wouldn’t be necessary to kill King Brhyme. Why couldn’t we just let him step down and go into exile? But I knew it would be useless. I was the youngest in the group, and none of the others accorded me the least shred of respect. They wouldn’t listen to a word I said, and if they did, they’d only laugh.
So I went home, and went through the rest of my day as normal, and eventually went to bed. The idea of standing guard while Hesethi committed murder haunted me. It would be one thing if King Brhyme was a tyrant, but while he occasionally raised taxes a bit too high and sometimes passed laws that the vast majority of the country disagreed with, he wasn’t really a tyrant, not compared to some kings. And his wife and children… I hadn’t even thought of them, and when I did I wanted to run out and ask Saola what would happen to them. But in truth I already knew. If any of the royal family lived, the monarchy would continue, and our goal would not be achieved.
I don’t know whether I would have been able to be part of the murder of King Brhyme or Queen Jaiya. But I knew that I could not stand by and let my friends kill ten-year-old Princess Elfithia and eight-year-old Prince Adre. I decided that the next morning, I would go and tell Saola that I wouldn’t be part of it, and with that decision made, I was eventually able to drift off to sleep.
When I woke up, I knew that backing out of the plot wouldn’t be enough. They would carry it out without me, no worse for having three lookouts rather than four. The royal family would be dead due to my inaction rather than my action. That wasn’t good enough. And thus I, a rebel, made up my mind to rescue the king and his family.
The rebellion was planned for very late in the night; I had time, though only a little. I only prayed that King Brhyme would listen to me, or at least not have me arrested before I could deliver my warning.
King Brhyme was holding audience, so I had to wait in line and watch him listen to complaints and mediate debates over chickens. I thought he handled most of them well enough. My knees trembled when I finally reached the front of the line. Surely someone would recognize me as a rebel--never mind that our faces were not known--and have me seized.
“Your majesty, might I have a word in private, concerning a matter of great importance to you and your family?” My voice shook.
Everyone seemed surprised, but I was hardly going to say what I had to say in front of everyone. “If you like,” King Brhyme agreed. “My guards will need to be there, of course.”
“Of course,” I agreed, and followed the king to a small room off of the larger hall. Two men with swords stood on either side of the king.
“You need to step down from the throne and take your family and leave the country.” My words came out in a jumbled rush. “There’s a plot to kill you.”
“Tell me of this plot,” he commanded, looking unworried.
“No, I can’t.” I knew he wouldn’t give me a choice, and that I’d made a mistake in coming, but they were my friends, and I would not turn them in. “There’s nothing you can do to stop it. If you want to live, if you want your children to live, you’ll leave Loifle before tonight.”
I fled. I expected him to stop me, or to order his guards to stop me, or for someone to prevent me from leaving the castle and running all the way to my house, but no one did. I wondered whether he took my warning seriously, and if he did, whether he would do what I said or merely heighten his guard. There was, after all, no reason for him to flee. With that kind of forewarning, he could quash a rebellion. I hoped I hadn’t just gotten my friends killed.
On the other hand, our plan--their plan--was good, and their backup plans numerous. I wouldn’t have cared to place odds on King Brhyme’s life, if he decided to stay.
I fretted, and paced about the house. Would the king be killed? Would my friends? Would someone come with a warrant for my arrest for being part of a rebellion? Or, once King Brhyme had been overthrown, would my friends--maybe my former friends, in their eyes, at least--have me arrested for betraying them?
I hadn’t chosen a side, or rather, had chosen both, and I knew I would have to pay for it. My house, which had felt like a refuge when I left the castle, now seemed a trap.
I jumped at the knock at my door, convinced that whoever it was, they probably wanted me dead. But it was too soft a tap to be guards to arrest me, and my friends wouldn’t yet know of my betrayal. Even so, my heart pounded as I opened the door.
It was a little girl. I recognized her immediately as Princess Elfithia, and was utterly shocked. “Are you Isletia?” she asked.
“Yes, your majesty.”
“You’re the one who warned my father to escape?”
I nodded.
“May I come in?”
“Of course.” I let her in, and she closed and locked the door behind her. “How did you know where to find me?”
“You were followed home, of course. And then once my father poked around into what you’d said and realized that it’s not just going to be a rebellion, but a complete takeover, with the army involved as well--”
“What?” I was surprised, but at thinking about her words, I wasn’t, really. It would be just like Saola to coordinate the rebellion with a military coup, and not tell any of us.
Princess Elfithia nodded solemnly. “So we’re going to do what you said, and escape, and well, he doesn’t trust much of anyone right now, so he wants your help.”
“Why on earth would he trust me?”
She looked at me as though it was obvious. “Well, you warned him. Anyway, he sent me so nobody would be suspicious--well, I convinced him to, he didn’t want to let me out of the castle, but somebody trustworthy had to go, and my mother’s too conspicuous. So you need to come back with me!”
I did, of course. It could have been a trap, but I didn’t think so--if King Brhyme had wanted to arrest me, he would have sent guards, not his ten year old daughter.
Elfithia led me into the castle through a back entrance, and into a book-filled room on the second floor. King Brhyme was alone there. He seemed afraid.
“I’m going to take your advice,” he told me. “But there’s more to the plot than you told me, and I need to know what it is. I don’t know who I can trust, and I don’t know how much time I have.”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I never knew there was any more to it than a simple rebellion; I didn’t know your army was involved. I was told the rebellion was to take place very late tonight, but now I don’t know if that’s true, or if that’s just the end of it. And I don’t know anything about which of your people are involved.”
King Brhyme nodded, as if that was about what he’d expected, and said, “Then I need to get my family away immediately, without trusting anyone. Will you help me?”
I wanted to ask him why he was trusting me, but I didn’t. “Yes.”
“Book passage on a ship. Jaiya will smuggle our children out and meet you, and I’ll come as soon as I make the announcement that I’m stepping down.”
I stared at him. “But that’ll let them now what you’re doing, and give them so many more chances to kill you! Surely it would be safer to just slip away.”
“Safer, yes, and that’s why I’ll wait until my family’s gone, but if I just disappear, Loifle will be left in turmoil and I can’t do that to the country. I’m going to announce that I’m relinquishing the throne in favor of democracy, and appoint a few people to be sure it’s carried out.”
I saw there was nothing I could do to dissuade him, so I left the castle and booked passages on a ship to Majardea--their king was a relative of Queen Jaiya; they’d be welcome there. I met the queen and her children outside of the castle; they were dressed in plain clothes so as not to be recognized, though Jaiya’s features were distinctive enough I doubted it would help. But she wore a hood and kept her head down, to hide her crimson hair and the bright tattoos around her dark eyes.
Still, we made it to the ship without incident. I took care of speaking to the captain so they wouldn’t be recognized yet. Finally, Jaiya, Elfithia, and Adre were locked in their cabin, and I breathed freely. Until I remembered the king.
It was three hours before he arrived, running. He nearly leaped onto the ship. “Can you take off immediately?” he asked the captain.
“Your majesty?” said the surprised captain.
“Not anymore. But please, go.” King Brhyme turned to me. “Are you coming as well?”
I nodded. “If my role in all this get’s found out, it would be better if I’m not in the country.”
And so it was that I achieved my dream of bringing democracy to Loifle, and left before I ever got to enjoy it. I didn’t really mind, though. When I’d been in Majardea a few weeks, I learned that Saola had been elected as the head of Loifle’s government. I’m sure she’s being completely insufferable, and though I sent a card to congratulate her, I’m glad to be an ocean away.
“Yep. By the day after tomorrow, Loifle will be a better place, thanks to us. The plan is in motion. You, Carthi, Jek, and Roan will be standing guard, I’ll be making the preparations and implementing the getaway, and Hesethi will be the one to actually do the killing.” Saola beamed at him.
I froze. “Wait. We’re going to kill the king?”
Everyone stared at me. “Yes, Isletia, that is the point,” Saola told me exasperatedly. “We haven’t been planning this for two years just to, what, take him captive? Let him step down? Force him into exile? Tyranny must end; we kill him.”
“It’s for the best,” Hesethi said, more kindly.
“But… I thought we all agreed he isn’t really that bad, mostly.”
“It’s the principal of the thing, dear,” said Saola in her most patronizing tone. “You’re free to back out if you like, of course.”
I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to. I agreed wholeheartedly that monarchy is tyranny and the only fair government is one that governs itself; I wanted to help bring democracy and equality and justice to Loifle. I just wasn’t quite sure about the means.
But I hadn’t been involved in the plot for two years just to drop out at the last moment. “No, I’m in.” I wanted to try to convince them that it wouldn’t be necessary to kill King Brhyme. Why couldn’t we just let him step down and go into exile? But I knew it would be useless. I was the youngest in the group, and none of the others accorded me the least shred of respect. They wouldn’t listen to a word I said, and if they did, they’d only laugh.
So I went home, and went through the rest of my day as normal, and eventually went to bed. The idea of standing guard while Hesethi committed murder haunted me. It would be one thing if King Brhyme was a tyrant, but while he occasionally raised taxes a bit too high and sometimes passed laws that the vast majority of the country disagreed with, he wasn’t really a tyrant, not compared to some kings. And his wife and children… I hadn’t even thought of them, and when I did I wanted to run out and ask Saola what would happen to them. But in truth I already knew. If any of the royal family lived, the monarchy would continue, and our goal would not be achieved.
I don’t know whether I would have been able to be part of the murder of King Brhyme or Queen Jaiya. But I knew that I could not stand by and let my friends kill ten-year-old Princess Elfithia and eight-year-old Prince Adre. I decided that the next morning, I would go and tell Saola that I wouldn’t be part of it, and with that decision made, I was eventually able to drift off to sleep.
When I woke up, I knew that backing out of the plot wouldn’t be enough. They would carry it out without me, no worse for having three lookouts rather than four. The royal family would be dead due to my inaction rather than my action. That wasn’t good enough. And thus I, a rebel, made up my mind to rescue the king and his family.
The rebellion was planned for very late in the night; I had time, though only a little. I only prayed that King Brhyme would listen to me, or at least not have me arrested before I could deliver my warning.
King Brhyme was holding audience, so I had to wait in line and watch him listen to complaints and mediate debates over chickens. I thought he handled most of them well enough. My knees trembled when I finally reached the front of the line. Surely someone would recognize me as a rebel--never mind that our faces were not known--and have me seized.
“Your majesty, might I have a word in private, concerning a matter of great importance to you and your family?” My voice shook.
Everyone seemed surprised, but I was hardly going to say what I had to say in front of everyone. “If you like,” King Brhyme agreed. “My guards will need to be there, of course.”
“Of course,” I agreed, and followed the king to a small room off of the larger hall. Two men with swords stood on either side of the king.
“You need to step down from the throne and take your family and leave the country.” My words came out in a jumbled rush. “There’s a plot to kill you.”
“Tell me of this plot,” he commanded, looking unworried.
“No, I can’t.” I knew he wouldn’t give me a choice, and that I’d made a mistake in coming, but they were my friends, and I would not turn them in. “There’s nothing you can do to stop it. If you want to live, if you want your children to live, you’ll leave Loifle before tonight.”
I fled. I expected him to stop me, or to order his guards to stop me, or for someone to prevent me from leaving the castle and running all the way to my house, but no one did. I wondered whether he took my warning seriously, and if he did, whether he would do what I said or merely heighten his guard. There was, after all, no reason for him to flee. With that kind of forewarning, he could quash a rebellion. I hoped I hadn’t just gotten my friends killed.
On the other hand, our plan--their plan--was good, and their backup plans numerous. I wouldn’t have cared to place odds on King Brhyme’s life, if he decided to stay.
I fretted, and paced about the house. Would the king be killed? Would my friends? Would someone come with a warrant for my arrest for being part of a rebellion? Or, once King Brhyme had been overthrown, would my friends--maybe my former friends, in their eyes, at least--have me arrested for betraying them?
I hadn’t chosen a side, or rather, had chosen both, and I knew I would have to pay for it. My house, which had felt like a refuge when I left the castle, now seemed a trap.
I jumped at the knock at my door, convinced that whoever it was, they probably wanted me dead. But it was too soft a tap to be guards to arrest me, and my friends wouldn’t yet know of my betrayal. Even so, my heart pounded as I opened the door.
It was a little girl. I recognized her immediately as Princess Elfithia, and was utterly shocked. “Are you Isletia?” she asked.
“Yes, your majesty.”
“You’re the one who warned my father to escape?”
I nodded.
“May I come in?”
“Of course.” I let her in, and she closed and locked the door behind her. “How did you know where to find me?”
“You were followed home, of course. And then once my father poked around into what you’d said and realized that it’s not just going to be a rebellion, but a complete takeover, with the army involved as well--”
“What?” I was surprised, but at thinking about her words, I wasn’t, really. It would be just like Saola to coordinate the rebellion with a military coup, and not tell any of us.
Princess Elfithia nodded solemnly. “So we’re going to do what you said, and escape, and well, he doesn’t trust much of anyone right now, so he wants your help.”
“Why on earth would he trust me?”
She looked at me as though it was obvious. “Well, you warned him. Anyway, he sent me so nobody would be suspicious--well, I convinced him to, he didn’t want to let me out of the castle, but somebody trustworthy had to go, and my mother’s too conspicuous. So you need to come back with me!”
I did, of course. It could have been a trap, but I didn’t think so--if King Brhyme had wanted to arrest me, he would have sent guards, not his ten year old daughter.
Elfithia led me into the castle through a back entrance, and into a book-filled room on the second floor. King Brhyme was alone there. He seemed afraid.
“I’m going to take your advice,” he told me. “But there’s more to the plot than you told me, and I need to know what it is. I don’t know who I can trust, and I don’t know how much time I have.”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I never knew there was any more to it than a simple rebellion; I didn’t know your army was involved. I was told the rebellion was to take place very late tonight, but now I don’t know if that’s true, or if that’s just the end of it. And I don’t know anything about which of your people are involved.”
King Brhyme nodded, as if that was about what he’d expected, and said, “Then I need to get my family away immediately, without trusting anyone. Will you help me?”
I wanted to ask him why he was trusting me, but I didn’t. “Yes.”
“Book passage on a ship. Jaiya will smuggle our children out and meet you, and I’ll come as soon as I make the announcement that I’m stepping down.”
I stared at him. “But that’ll let them now what you’re doing, and give them so many more chances to kill you! Surely it would be safer to just slip away.”
“Safer, yes, and that’s why I’ll wait until my family’s gone, but if I just disappear, Loifle will be left in turmoil and I can’t do that to the country. I’m going to announce that I’m relinquishing the throne in favor of democracy, and appoint a few people to be sure it’s carried out.”
I saw there was nothing I could do to dissuade him, so I left the castle and booked passages on a ship to Majardea--their king was a relative of Queen Jaiya; they’d be welcome there. I met the queen and her children outside of the castle; they were dressed in plain clothes so as not to be recognized, though Jaiya’s features were distinctive enough I doubted it would help. But she wore a hood and kept her head down, to hide her crimson hair and the bright tattoos around her dark eyes.
Still, we made it to the ship without incident. I took care of speaking to the captain so they wouldn’t be recognized yet. Finally, Jaiya, Elfithia, and Adre were locked in their cabin, and I breathed freely. Until I remembered the king.
It was three hours before he arrived, running. He nearly leaped onto the ship. “Can you take off immediately?” he asked the captain.
“Your majesty?” said the surprised captain.
“Not anymore. But please, go.” King Brhyme turned to me. “Are you coming as well?”
I nodded. “If my role in all this get’s found out, it would be better if I’m not in the country.”
And so it was that I achieved my dream of bringing democracy to Loifle, and left before I ever got to enjoy it. I didn’t really mind, though. When I’d been in Majardea a few weeks, I learned that Saola had been elected as the head of Loifle’s government. I’m sure she’s being completely insufferable, and though I sent a card to congratulate her, I’m glad to be an ocean away.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Saving Souls
“You know you don’t have to do this.”
Vie frowned at the older woman. “Don’t make this more difficult than it already is. Sahrinad is the only home I’ve ever had; do you think I’d leave if I had a choice?”
“You’d be safer here than anywhere else,” said Rikimi. “You know how well Sahrinad’s fortified, and nowhere else in the world can you find so many magicians.”
“These things are powerful, Rikimi. They’ll break through every defense we have in five minutes, and every being on the island will be dead, magic stolen and souls ripped to shreds. They’re going to get me, there’s no real hope of avoiding it, and I can’t bring them down on everyone else.”
“I know. I wanted to be sure you know you’re not being kicked out. This is your choice.” She hesitated. “I’ll miss you, Vie.”
Vie forced a grin. “I’d have thought you’d be glad to see me leave.”
“Oh, you’ve always been trouble, but never the bad kind, really.”
“Until now.”
Rikimi gave Vie a stern look, the same look she‘d given Vie so many times over the years. “You know it’s not your fault.”
Vie shrugged. “It would be, if I stayed and let Sahrinad be destroyed.”
“Knowing what we do, it would be, yes; I’m glad you’re able to take responsibility for that. I just find it difficult to believe that your fate is inevitable.”
“Every seer and oracle in Sahrinad’s seen them suck my life force out of me, no matter what course of future they’re seeing. Everything that’s been seen, or heard, or thought of, or prophesied says its unavoidable, whatever I do,” said Vie, her voice tinged with suppressed anger at the unfairness of it. She hesitated. “If it turns out not to be, if I find a way to beat them somehow… I’ll come back.”
“You don’t really have any hope,” said Rikimi, mildly surprised.
“I don’t know. I don’t think I’d be able to survive if I didn’t have at least the smallest shred of a chance of ever coming back here.”
“Well, I’ve never put much faith in prophecies.”
That comforted Vie more than anything else had, and she embraced Rikimi awkwardly and stepped onto the ferry.
Vie had no idea where to go. She’d been barely more than a child when she came to Sahrinad, and her memories of life outside the island were foggy. It wasn’t so isolated that she didn’t know of the outside world--which countries were where, what the landscape was like, how to get from one place to another. But she didn’t know where she wanted to be, except on Sahrinad.
Somewhere isolated, she decided, to limit the damage as much as possible, so when the ferry landed she walked west, away from the nearest town and the roads twisting around it.
Vie tried, as she’d been trying, to come up with a way to stop them, but her mind would only show her the fate she knew she couldn’t avoid. They--no one knew what exactly they were, and they had no name--would swoop down on her and steal magic, leaving her weakened but alive, and then her soul, killing her, or worse. She couldn’t hide from them, couldn’t fight them, couldn’t trick them. The most she could hope for was to be their only victim.
She passed a stand on the side of the road. She knew she should hurry on so as to avoid risking the person working at it. But she wanted that one last bit of human contact.
She needn’t have worried about that. As she approached, it became quite clear that the person selling whatever was being sold was not at all human. The being--Vie couldn’t tell its gender--had aqua skin, shining white antlers, and huge feathery wings. Being from Sahrinad, Vie had of course seen nonhumans before; but this person was different. She somehow felt that it wasn’t just not a human, but wasn’t a mortal at all.
“Hello,” Vie said, because she could at least have one last friendly nonhuman interaction before they found her. “What are you selling?”
“Whatever I have, or whatever I need…. But from you, I think I will be buying.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t have anything to sell.”
“I have seen you in my scrying dish, being devoured by kashiu jalt.”
“A lot of people have. Is that what they’re called?”
“It’s what I call them. It means soul rippers, in some language or other.”
“Do you know how to stop them?” Vie’s heart beat quickly, though she told herself she knew the answer would be negative.
“You cannot defend against them, or hide from them.” The being paused. “I wish to buy your soul.”
Vie jumped back. “What? But… how? And won’t that kill me?”
“No, I will take good care of it for you, and sell it back to you when you’re ready. You can consider it a kind of pawning. As for how, we simply agree on the deal and I will take it from you, very gently.”
“Sell it back to me… you mean, once the… soul ripper’s are gone?”
“Yes.”
It wasn’t that Vie didn’t know better than to sell her soul, but surely selling it was better than having it stolen. “All right,” she agreed. A shimmering white antler touched her forehead, and she felt… something, and then she felt nothing. She was conscious, she felt no pain, or even numbness, just nothing. She could see and hear and touch the world around her, but it could not touch her. Nothing mattered.
“I’m sorry, I know it’s rather terrible.” Vie didn’t know whether that was true. It just was.
She left, and continued walling, and eventually stopped walking and lied down and did not sleep. The sun was beginning to rise when they came.
Had she been able to feel, she would have felt fear, but as it was they simply were there. They picked through her mind and sucked out her magic, and as she felt it draining away she knew it was a good thing she couldn’t feel. When it was gone--when the magic that had been so much of her life was gone--they dug deeper, searching for her soul. Vie squeezed her eyelids together. When she opened them, the sun was up, and they were gone.
She walked back to the stand on the side of the road. The being touched his antler to her forehead again, and her soul trickled back in, and she began to cry.
“Thank you,” she said, and still crying, headed back to Sahrinad. By the time she stepped off the ferry, she was almost used to feeling again, almost able to deal with the loss of her magic, almost able to believe that she had escaped the inescapable.
Vie frowned at the older woman. “Don’t make this more difficult than it already is. Sahrinad is the only home I’ve ever had; do you think I’d leave if I had a choice?”
“You’d be safer here than anywhere else,” said Rikimi. “You know how well Sahrinad’s fortified, and nowhere else in the world can you find so many magicians.”
“These things are powerful, Rikimi. They’ll break through every defense we have in five minutes, and every being on the island will be dead, magic stolen and souls ripped to shreds. They’re going to get me, there’s no real hope of avoiding it, and I can’t bring them down on everyone else.”
“I know. I wanted to be sure you know you’re not being kicked out. This is your choice.” She hesitated. “I’ll miss you, Vie.”
Vie forced a grin. “I’d have thought you’d be glad to see me leave.”
“Oh, you’ve always been trouble, but never the bad kind, really.”
“Until now.”
Rikimi gave Vie a stern look, the same look she‘d given Vie so many times over the years. “You know it’s not your fault.”
Vie shrugged. “It would be, if I stayed and let Sahrinad be destroyed.”
“Knowing what we do, it would be, yes; I’m glad you’re able to take responsibility for that. I just find it difficult to believe that your fate is inevitable.”
“Every seer and oracle in Sahrinad’s seen them suck my life force out of me, no matter what course of future they’re seeing. Everything that’s been seen, or heard, or thought of, or prophesied says its unavoidable, whatever I do,” said Vie, her voice tinged with suppressed anger at the unfairness of it. She hesitated. “If it turns out not to be, if I find a way to beat them somehow… I’ll come back.”
“You don’t really have any hope,” said Rikimi, mildly surprised.
“I don’t know. I don’t think I’d be able to survive if I didn’t have at least the smallest shred of a chance of ever coming back here.”
“Well, I’ve never put much faith in prophecies.”
That comforted Vie more than anything else had, and she embraced Rikimi awkwardly and stepped onto the ferry.
Vie had no idea where to go. She’d been barely more than a child when she came to Sahrinad, and her memories of life outside the island were foggy. It wasn’t so isolated that she didn’t know of the outside world--which countries were where, what the landscape was like, how to get from one place to another. But she didn’t know where she wanted to be, except on Sahrinad.
Somewhere isolated, she decided, to limit the damage as much as possible, so when the ferry landed she walked west, away from the nearest town and the roads twisting around it.
Vie tried, as she’d been trying, to come up with a way to stop them, but her mind would only show her the fate she knew she couldn’t avoid. They--no one knew what exactly they were, and they had no name--would swoop down on her and steal magic, leaving her weakened but alive, and then her soul, killing her, or worse. She couldn’t hide from them, couldn’t fight them, couldn’t trick them. The most she could hope for was to be their only victim.
She passed a stand on the side of the road. She knew she should hurry on so as to avoid risking the person working at it. But she wanted that one last bit of human contact.
She needn’t have worried about that. As she approached, it became quite clear that the person selling whatever was being sold was not at all human. The being--Vie couldn’t tell its gender--had aqua skin, shining white antlers, and huge feathery wings. Being from Sahrinad, Vie had of course seen nonhumans before; but this person was different. She somehow felt that it wasn’t just not a human, but wasn’t a mortal at all.
“Hello,” Vie said, because she could at least have one last friendly nonhuman interaction before they found her. “What are you selling?”
“Whatever I have, or whatever I need…. But from you, I think I will be buying.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t have anything to sell.”
“I have seen you in my scrying dish, being devoured by kashiu jalt.”
“A lot of people have. Is that what they’re called?”
“It’s what I call them. It means soul rippers, in some language or other.”
“Do you know how to stop them?” Vie’s heart beat quickly, though she told herself she knew the answer would be negative.
“You cannot defend against them, or hide from them.” The being paused. “I wish to buy your soul.”
Vie jumped back. “What? But… how? And won’t that kill me?”
“No, I will take good care of it for you, and sell it back to you when you’re ready. You can consider it a kind of pawning. As for how, we simply agree on the deal and I will take it from you, very gently.”
“Sell it back to me… you mean, once the… soul ripper’s are gone?”
“Yes.”
It wasn’t that Vie didn’t know better than to sell her soul, but surely selling it was better than having it stolen. “All right,” she agreed. A shimmering white antler touched her forehead, and she felt… something, and then she felt nothing. She was conscious, she felt no pain, or even numbness, just nothing. She could see and hear and touch the world around her, but it could not touch her. Nothing mattered.
“I’m sorry, I know it’s rather terrible.” Vie didn’t know whether that was true. It just was.
She left, and continued walling, and eventually stopped walking and lied down and did not sleep. The sun was beginning to rise when they came.
Had she been able to feel, she would have felt fear, but as it was they simply were there. They picked through her mind and sucked out her magic, and as she felt it draining away she knew it was a good thing she couldn’t feel. When it was gone--when the magic that had been so much of her life was gone--they dug deeper, searching for her soul. Vie squeezed her eyelids together. When she opened them, the sun was up, and they were gone.
She walked back to the stand on the side of the road. The being touched his antler to her forehead again, and her soul trickled back in, and she began to cry.
“Thank you,” she said, and still crying, headed back to Sahrinad. By the time she stepped off the ferry, she was almost used to feeling again, almost able to deal with the loss of her magic, almost able to believe that she had escaped the inescapable.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Execution
I’ve been here for a few months now, and I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. Here—I’m not sure what to call it. Someone called it a menagerie of mages, a Magiary, and the name seems to have stuck somewhat, but since it was meant as an insult, those of us who stay here are torn between rejecting the name and trying to reclaim it.
The Magiary is a large house with lots of towers, and is intimidating from the outside but a friendly, cozy place inside, for the most part. The house is not inside the city, but the main doorway is set into the city wall, which is only a few feet high there.
It’s a school, sort-of, and probably several other things as well. People come here to learn magic, and Malexandra and whatever other magic-users happen to be around teach it. There’s nothing official about the Magiary. It’s in Majardea, but everyone knows the king has no control over it. There aren’t many rules here--most of the normal things such as don’t kill or steal are assumed to be obvious. Besides for that, it pretty much amounts to everyone here being expected to not do anything cruel or utterly idiotic. The king’s laws don’t apply here, and so problems are dealt with by Malexandra—you can imagine how relieved I was very when I heard that, considering there’s a warrant out for my execution. But official laws are highly frowned on, and I don’t worry about anyone here turning me in. On the same note, we’re not allowed to go watch executions or other public punishments.
You wouldn’t think that last one would be a big deal. I’ve never had any urge to go watch someone being killed, and the fact that it could easily happen to me has made the idea even less enticing. And it’s not like my friends would want to, either. Devrin’s a bit squeamish, and while Quaos is the last person in the world I’d call squeamish, seeing people die isn’t entertainment for her either.
But we were walking around the city, just for the fun of it. It had been raining for a week, and now that it was bright and sunny we wanted to get out. At first we thought the crowds were just other people who felt the same. But they were all headed in the same direction, and a cheerful woman with a small child on her shoulders told us that we should hurry, because all the best places to see the execution from would be taken.
“Oh no, we won’t be able to get a good view of someone being killed! Whatever shall we do?” Devrin was being even more sarcastic than usual, which is saying a lot.
“We should go,” I said.
“Back home, you mean? This does rather ruin the beauty of the day.”
“No, to the execution.”
Quaos and Devrin both stared at me. “Because your idea of fun is watching people die?” Devrin asked.
“No, because it could have been me.”
“And it could still be you, Aniya, if anyone recognizes you,” Quaos said sharply. “I’ve had friends in line for execution before, I’d prefer not to repeat the experience.”
“I’m not just going to go home and pretending nothing’s going on,” I said stubbornly. “You can, if you want.”
They didn’t, of course.
Executions took place on a stage in a large, beautified square. The square was packed, and we stood far from the stage and right next to the path leading to it which the accused was marched down. The path was empty; everyone knew it was bad luck to stand on it, and most people tried to stay as far away from it as possible.
The path stretched all the way to the prison, and was relatively straight, so we could see the guards marching the prisoner towards us from a long way off, and they marched very slowly. As they drew closer, we saw a scowling woman in chains, held on each side by a uniformed guard.
That could be me. The thought repeated in my mind over and over. I could feel myself in her place, barefoot, wearing only a thin prison shift and thick chains, marching to my death. It could be me.
“We should stop it.” The words popped out of my mouth before I could think them through, but I had no desire to take them back.
“It’s not that easy,” Quaos objected.
“We could do it, though. Just, grab her when she comes by, and we know enough magic by now we could probably get away.”
“What if she’s a murderer?” protested Devrin.
“Well, then, that would make two of us,” Quaos reminded him.
“Same goes for treason,” I added. “So you’re in?” I asked Quaos.
“I’m always up for stopping executions!” Quaos said with a crazy grin. “At least I won’t have to kill a king this time. Hey, the worst that can happen is that we end up on the block next to her.”
“So it’s not like anything really bad could happen to us.” Sarcasm, of course, but Devrin had said ‘us.’
“So, our plan is really just to grab her and run?” Quaos asked rather incredulously.
“Um… we improvise after that,” I said. I was very nervous, even terrified, and maybe beginning to have second thoughts about the whole thing, but I had just to glance at the woman to see myself in her shoes, and my second thoughts disappeared.
And then, they were next to us. The guards had swords; I, stupidly, hadn’t thought about that. Still, they didn’t have them out, and were holding the woman’s chains. So I let myself kind of stumble into the guard closest to me, and when she was off her guard, so to speak, grabbed the chain from her hands. She hadn’t been expecting it, but she reacted quickly and grabbed it back, and we were playing tug-o-war. Devrin, I noticed out of the corner of my eye, had grabbed her sword from its sheath, though he wasn’t doing anything with it. I took a deep breath and used a bit of magic to heat the chain. It hurt the prisoner as well as the guard, but it only lasted long enough for me to jerk the chain from the guard. Quaos, I saw, had the other guard on his knees, holding his head in his hands.
We ran.
It wasn’t just the guards behind us; the crowd wanted their entertainment. The prisoner, still chained and now burned under the chains on her waist and left ankle, was not fast. This was the part we hadn’t planned for, and the dangerous part—if they got us now, we were all dead.
Devrin, who had been at the Magiary the longest and was the most studious, did something magical that seemed to slow down everyone else, as though they were moving through thick syrup. We got a bit of a head start, but he only managed to keep it up for a few seconds, and the use of so much energy tired him. We began to slow, and the crowd was upon us, the people at the front just reaching out to grab us—
And suddenly, I felt a large jolt and the four of us were in Malexandra’s tower. I felt rather nauseous.
“That was quite impressive,” Malexandra said. “I haven’t seen a rescue like that since I was- well, in a long time.
The woman who was to have been executed finally spoke. “Who are you? I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but who are you and what the hell is going on?”
We introduced ourselves. Somehow, our names didn’t seem to lessen her confusion.
“Okay, it’s nice to meet you and all, but where are we, how the hell did we get here, and why?”
“You’re in my tower. I was alerted to the unusual occurrence by a friend and brought you here in order to keep you from the bloodthirsty mob and bloodthirstier, if rather inept, guards. Now who are you, and why were you about to be executed?”
“Smuggling. I’m a smuggler. I was a smuggler, I guess, I don’t think I’ll be going back to it. My name is Wrayli.”
“Pleased to meet you. I’m worn out from transporting all four of you, but if you give me a few minutes I’ll do something about those chains, and your burns.”
“Sorry about that,” I said.
Wrayli shrugged. “Better than being dead.”
We all stood around awkwardly for a minute. Suddenly, Devrin laughed loudly. We all looked at him.
“Um, you know how we’re not supposed to go to executions? Well, we rescued the condemned prisoner, so we weren’t actually at an execution, since nobody was killed.”
“Well, I’m so glad you’re not in trouble,” Wrayli said, but she laughed.
The Magiary is a large house with lots of towers, and is intimidating from the outside but a friendly, cozy place inside, for the most part. The house is not inside the city, but the main doorway is set into the city wall, which is only a few feet high there.
It’s a school, sort-of, and probably several other things as well. People come here to learn magic, and Malexandra and whatever other magic-users happen to be around teach it. There’s nothing official about the Magiary. It’s in Majardea, but everyone knows the king has no control over it. There aren’t many rules here--most of the normal things such as don’t kill or steal are assumed to be obvious. Besides for that, it pretty much amounts to everyone here being expected to not do anything cruel or utterly idiotic. The king’s laws don’t apply here, and so problems are dealt with by Malexandra—you can imagine how relieved I was very when I heard that, considering there’s a warrant out for my execution. But official laws are highly frowned on, and I don’t worry about anyone here turning me in. On the same note, we’re not allowed to go watch executions or other public punishments.
You wouldn’t think that last one would be a big deal. I’ve never had any urge to go watch someone being killed, and the fact that it could easily happen to me has made the idea even less enticing. And it’s not like my friends would want to, either. Devrin’s a bit squeamish, and while Quaos is the last person in the world I’d call squeamish, seeing people die isn’t entertainment for her either.
But we were walking around the city, just for the fun of it. It had been raining for a week, and now that it was bright and sunny we wanted to get out. At first we thought the crowds were just other people who felt the same. But they were all headed in the same direction, and a cheerful woman with a small child on her shoulders told us that we should hurry, because all the best places to see the execution from would be taken.
“Oh no, we won’t be able to get a good view of someone being killed! Whatever shall we do?” Devrin was being even more sarcastic than usual, which is saying a lot.
“We should go,” I said.
“Back home, you mean? This does rather ruin the beauty of the day.”
“No, to the execution.”
Quaos and Devrin both stared at me. “Because your idea of fun is watching people die?” Devrin asked.
“No, because it could have been me.”
“And it could still be you, Aniya, if anyone recognizes you,” Quaos said sharply. “I’ve had friends in line for execution before, I’d prefer not to repeat the experience.”
“I’m not just going to go home and pretending nothing’s going on,” I said stubbornly. “You can, if you want.”
They didn’t, of course.
Executions took place on a stage in a large, beautified square. The square was packed, and we stood far from the stage and right next to the path leading to it which the accused was marched down. The path was empty; everyone knew it was bad luck to stand on it, and most people tried to stay as far away from it as possible.
The path stretched all the way to the prison, and was relatively straight, so we could see the guards marching the prisoner towards us from a long way off, and they marched very slowly. As they drew closer, we saw a scowling woman in chains, held on each side by a uniformed guard.
That could be me. The thought repeated in my mind over and over. I could feel myself in her place, barefoot, wearing only a thin prison shift and thick chains, marching to my death. It could be me.
“We should stop it.” The words popped out of my mouth before I could think them through, but I had no desire to take them back.
“It’s not that easy,” Quaos objected.
“We could do it, though. Just, grab her when she comes by, and we know enough magic by now we could probably get away.”
“What if she’s a murderer?” protested Devrin.
“Well, then, that would make two of us,” Quaos reminded him.
“Same goes for treason,” I added. “So you’re in?” I asked Quaos.
“I’m always up for stopping executions!” Quaos said with a crazy grin. “At least I won’t have to kill a king this time. Hey, the worst that can happen is that we end up on the block next to her.”
“So it’s not like anything really bad could happen to us.” Sarcasm, of course, but Devrin had said ‘us.’
“So, our plan is really just to grab her and run?” Quaos asked rather incredulously.
“Um… we improvise after that,” I said. I was very nervous, even terrified, and maybe beginning to have second thoughts about the whole thing, but I had just to glance at the woman to see myself in her shoes, and my second thoughts disappeared.
And then, they were next to us. The guards had swords; I, stupidly, hadn’t thought about that. Still, they didn’t have them out, and were holding the woman’s chains. So I let myself kind of stumble into the guard closest to me, and when she was off her guard, so to speak, grabbed the chain from her hands. She hadn’t been expecting it, but she reacted quickly and grabbed it back, and we were playing tug-o-war. Devrin, I noticed out of the corner of my eye, had grabbed her sword from its sheath, though he wasn’t doing anything with it. I took a deep breath and used a bit of magic to heat the chain. It hurt the prisoner as well as the guard, but it only lasted long enough for me to jerk the chain from the guard. Quaos, I saw, had the other guard on his knees, holding his head in his hands.
We ran.
It wasn’t just the guards behind us; the crowd wanted their entertainment. The prisoner, still chained and now burned under the chains on her waist and left ankle, was not fast. This was the part we hadn’t planned for, and the dangerous part—if they got us now, we were all dead.
Devrin, who had been at the Magiary the longest and was the most studious, did something magical that seemed to slow down everyone else, as though they were moving through thick syrup. We got a bit of a head start, but he only managed to keep it up for a few seconds, and the use of so much energy tired him. We began to slow, and the crowd was upon us, the people at the front just reaching out to grab us—
And suddenly, I felt a large jolt and the four of us were in Malexandra’s tower. I felt rather nauseous.
“That was quite impressive,” Malexandra said. “I haven’t seen a rescue like that since I was- well, in a long time.
The woman who was to have been executed finally spoke. “Who are you? I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but who are you and what the hell is going on?”
We introduced ourselves. Somehow, our names didn’t seem to lessen her confusion.
“Okay, it’s nice to meet you and all, but where are we, how the hell did we get here, and why?”
“You’re in my tower. I was alerted to the unusual occurrence by a friend and brought you here in order to keep you from the bloodthirsty mob and bloodthirstier, if rather inept, guards. Now who are you, and why were you about to be executed?”
“Smuggling. I’m a smuggler. I was a smuggler, I guess, I don’t think I’ll be going back to it. My name is Wrayli.”
“Pleased to meet you. I’m worn out from transporting all four of you, but if you give me a few minutes I’ll do something about those chains, and your burns.”
“Sorry about that,” I said.
Wrayli shrugged. “Better than being dead.”
We all stood around awkwardly for a minute. Suddenly, Devrin laughed loudly. We all looked at him.
“Um, you know how we’re not supposed to go to executions? Well, we rescued the condemned prisoner, so we weren’t actually at an execution, since nobody was killed.”
“Well, I’m so glad you’re not in trouble,” Wrayli said, but she laughed.
Monday, August 10, 2009
No More
This is a guest story written by my amazingly awesome mom.
Wrath was consuming me and hope was not even a distant memory. I was on my fourteenth hour straight working in the diamond mine. I was only nine. I was sore and tired, so hungry, and it would be hours until dawn when my shift would finally end. My arms ached; sweat poured down my back; I was numb with exhaustion.
I wondered if the person whose fingers the diamond would grace knew that my entire village had been enslaved to decorate her. I wondered if she even cared.
With dogged determination, I chiseled into rock, my hands covered with blood and blisters. Something sparkled. It was a small diamond, yet even uncut and unpolished I could see how magnificent it was.
Staring into the sparkling stone, I felt a shift in my very spirit. The fury faded and a deep love consumed me. I breathed slowly. The diamond seemed to come alive, a kaleidoscope of moving colors swirling faster and faster. My spirit soared! My bloody hands were transformed into wings! With great joy, I spread my arms and flew up and out of the mine. I soared; I was a bird. No, I was much too large to be any bird. I soared far above the mines over a field of flowers, to a river. I swooped down, grabbing a fish to quiet my growling stomach. I whooped with joy, and a stream of fire escaped my lips. I was no bird. I was a magnificent dragon, strong and powerful.
I wanted to fly forever away from my life. Yet my family and friends were still in the mines, still forced to work like slaves for a pittance so small they could barely survive. I roared fire for hundreds of yards. No more. I wheeled around. Back towards the mines. My rage and determination as focused as a laser.
No more of this nightmare, for any of us. No more.
Wrath was consuming me and hope was not even a distant memory. I was on my fourteenth hour straight working in the diamond mine. I was only nine. I was sore and tired, so hungry, and it would be hours until dawn when my shift would finally end. My arms ached; sweat poured down my back; I was numb with exhaustion.
I wondered if the person whose fingers the diamond would grace knew that my entire village had been enslaved to decorate her. I wondered if she even cared.
With dogged determination, I chiseled into rock, my hands covered with blood and blisters. Something sparkled. It was a small diamond, yet even uncut and unpolished I could see how magnificent it was.
Staring into the sparkling stone, I felt a shift in my very spirit. The fury faded and a deep love consumed me. I breathed slowly. The diamond seemed to come alive, a kaleidoscope of moving colors swirling faster and faster. My spirit soared! My bloody hands were transformed into wings! With great joy, I spread my arms and flew up and out of the mine. I soared; I was a bird. No, I was much too large to be any bird. I soared far above the mines over a field of flowers, to a river. I swooped down, grabbing a fish to quiet my growling stomach. I whooped with joy, and a stream of fire escaped my lips. I was no bird. I was a magnificent dragon, strong and powerful.
I wanted to fly forever away from my life. Yet my family and friends were still in the mines, still forced to work like slaves for a pittance so small they could barely survive. I roared fire for hundreds of yards. No more. I wheeled around. Back towards the mines. My rage and determination as focused as a laser.
No more of this nightmare, for any of us. No more.
Deal
The night was dark, so dark I could not even see the blade at my throat, but I wasn’t afraid. “Do you mean to kill me?” I inquired.
“Only if you refuse to tell me where it is,” my attacker answered in a gruff voice.
I smiled sweetly, though he couldn’t see it, and answered, “Sorry, Vak, but you’re going to need to offer more than that.”
“You don’t seem to understand me, Rakayl,” he sounded frustrated. “I’m offering you your life. If you tell me, I’ll go away and leave you be. If not, I’ll slit your throat.”
“You seem to be under the impression that you have the upper hand here. You don’t. I have something you want, but you don’t have anything I want. You’re going to have to raise the price.”
“Your life!”
“Like I said, you don’t have anything I want.”
He finally got it. He sheathed his dagger, and for a moment I thought he was about to leave, but he didn’t. We sat silently in the dark, until he finally muttered something and all the candles in the room flared up. For the first time in years, I saw his face, and he saw mine.
He hadn’t changed much, if at all. Same voice, same face, same beard, same twinkling eyes, same attitude. I knew I’d changed, been aged by years of toil and misery and hopelessness. And I’d meant it, that my life meant nothing to me. Back then, sure, I was a daredevil, took stupid risks that could get me killed, but I’d loved being alive.
I looked away to avoid seeing pity in his eyes. He knew what I’d been once, and to see me reduced to this…. I still had my pride, and one other thing as well.
“Fine,” he gave in. “What do you want?”
“Nothing you can give me.”
“Then why shouldn’t I just kill you and be done with it?”
“I won’t be able to tell you anything once I’m dead.”
“And you’re not telling me anything alive. Why shouldn’t I just kill you and save myself the bother of trying to talk it out of you?”
I shrugged. “No reason.”
He was growing irritated. “Damn it, isn’t there anything I can do to get you to tell me?”
“Like I said, there’s nothing you have that I want.”
“What do you want?”
“Freedom.”
He smiled. “So if I get you out of here, you’ll tell me?”
“No.” He started to glare at me, but I continued, “If you get me out of here, and take me with you, as a partner, then I’ll tell you.”
“I’ve no problem agreeing with that… but are you sure you’re still up to it?”
In a flash, I grabbed his knife from his side and had it at his throat. That was enough of a reply, so I said nothing.
“Fine, fine,” he said, holding up his hands. “I take back the question. We have a deal?”
I tucked the dagger into my waistband, and we shook on it. “My knife wasn’t part of the deal,” he complained.
“No, it wasn’t,” I agreed, but did not return it. “So do you have a plan? Because I assure you, I haven’t stayed here for four years because I like the scenery.”
“You know me, I play things by ear. So should we trick our way out, or fight our way out?”
I’d forgotten that. My style had been to plan everything out to the last detail beforehand, with a multitude of backup plans for everything that could possibly go wrong. Vak had tended to come up with mad ideas and, with no planning whatsoever, act on them, improvising whenever anything went wrong. But it worked for him. After all, I’d been caught, convicted, and sold into slavery, and he was free.
I thought about his question, and grinned. “Fight our way out, of course. If you think you’re up to it.”
“It would help if you gave me my dagger back.”
I smirked. “I guess you do have more need of it.” I offered it to him.
“I don’t need a bit of metal to fight with any more than you do,” he protested, so I put it away.
I had nothing to take with me and no reason to linger, so we left. He’d already picked the locks to get into the room, so we crept out into the darkness.
“Steal a pair of horses?” Vak suggested.
“Just two?” I led the way to the stables. They were guarded, but the guards, not really expecting any trouble, weren’t as alert as they should have been. I was on the first guard before he even noticed us, and by then it was too late; I left him bleeding out into the dust. He’d had time to let out part of a scream, but it didn’t matter. The only one around to hear was the corpse of the other guard, who Vak had dealt with while I was killing the first one. We saddled the two best horses, and quickly released all the others—a distraction, sure, but I mainly did it out of spite. The loss of a few horses, and even a few guards, was hardly enough revenge, but it’s better than nothing.
We dispatched the two guards at the gate as easily as their fellows, but the magic was more difficult. That was how I was caught the last time I tried to escape. I’d thought I’d neutralized it, and started to climb over, and realized it was stronger than I’d thought when I was stuck to the gate for the rest of the night, until the next round of guards came and caught me.
But Vak was with me this time, and as loath as I am to admit it, he knew more magic than I did. So after a rather tense half hour of sitting on my horse in the cold, watching Vak mutter to himself, we were through, and all we had to do was stay out of sight.
“Where to now?” Vak asked me.
“A ship would be best. You up for a spot of piracy?” He was, of course, and if the small craft we took couldn’t exactly be called a ship, it was quite capable of taking us to Port Endra, in Majardea.
“So is that where it is, then?” Vak finally asked me, on the second day of our voyage. “Majardea, or nearby?”
“Well, it was. But it’s too late now. Did you really think they wouldn’t have gotten that out of me a long time ago?”
He stared at me. I put my hand on the dagger, in case he tried anything, but after a while he just laughed. “I should have known. So what happened to it?”
“Well, that bastard wasn’t about to go off on a quest for it, so I guess he must have sold the information or something. A while back I heard some hero went after it, and she found it, but…. I’m not exactly clear on the details, but I heard them complaining about what a waste that was, because I guess she fed it to a goat. Good riddance, in my opinion, you know what I thought about it.”
Vak shook his head. “A goat. The most powerful artifact known to man, and she fed it to a goat.” He looked at me accusingly. “You owe me.”
“I know.” But I didn’t much care.
“Only if you refuse to tell me where it is,” my attacker answered in a gruff voice.
I smiled sweetly, though he couldn’t see it, and answered, “Sorry, Vak, but you’re going to need to offer more than that.”
“You don’t seem to understand me, Rakayl,” he sounded frustrated. “I’m offering you your life. If you tell me, I’ll go away and leave you be. If not, I’ll slit your throat.”
“You seem to be under the impression that you have the upper hand here. You don’t. I have something you want, but you don’t have anything I want. You’re going to have to raise the price.”
“Your life!”
“Like I said, you don’t have anything I want.”
He finally got it. He sheathed his dagger, and for a moment I thought he was about to leave, but he didn’t. We sat silently in the dark, until he finally muttered something and all the candles in the room flared up. For the first time in years, I saw his face, and he saw mine.
He hadn’t changed much, if at all. Same voice, same face, same beard, same twinkling eyes, same attitude. I knew I’d changed, been aged by years of toil and misery and hopelessness. And I’d meant it, that my life meant nothing to me. Back then, sure, I was a daredevil, took stupid risks that could get me killed, but I’d loved being alive.
I looked away to avoid seeing pity in his eyes. He knew what I’d been once, and to see me reduced to this…. I still had my pride, and one other thing as well.
“Fine,” he gave in. “What do you want?”
“Nothing you can give me.”
“Then why shouldn’t I just kill you and be done with it?”
“I won’t be able to tell you anything once I’m dead.”
“And you’re not telling me anything alive. Why shouldn’t I just kill you and save myself the bother of trying to talk it out of you?”
I shrugged. “No reason.”
He was growing irritated. “Damn it, isn’t there anything I can do to get you to tell me?”
“Like I said, there’s nothing you have that I want.”
“What do you want?”
“Freedom.”
He smiled. “So if I get you out of here, you’ll tell me?”
“No.” He started to glare at me, but I continued, “If you get me out of here, and take me with you, as a partner, then I’ll tell you.”
“I’ve no problem agreeing with that… but are you sure you’re still up to it?”
In a flash, I grabbed his knife from his side and had it at his throat. That was enough of a reply, so I said nothing.
“Fine, fine,” he said, holding up his hands. “I take back the question. We have a deal?”
I tucked the dagger into my waistband, and we shook on it. “My knife wasn’t part of the deal,” he complained.
“No, it wasn’t,” I agreed, but did not return it. “So do you have a plan? Because I assure you, I haven’t stayed here for four years because I like the scenery.”
“You know me, I play things by ear. So should we trick our way out, or fight our way out?”
I’d forgotten that. My style had been to plan everything out to the last detail beforehand, with a multitude of backup plans for everything that could possibly go wrong. Vak had tended to come up with mad ideas and, with no planning whatsoever, act on them, improvising whenever anything went wrong. But it worked for him. After all, I’d been caught, convicted, and sold into slavery, and he was free.
I thought about his question, and grinned. “Fight our way out, of course. If you think you’re up to it.”
“It would help if you gave me my dagger back.”
I smirked. “I guess you do have more need of it.” I offered it to him.
“I don’t need a bit of metal to fight with any more than you do,” he protested, so I put it away.
I had nothing to take with me and no reason to linger, so we left. He’d already picked the locks to get into the room, so we crept out into the darkness.
“Steal a pair of horses?” Vak suggested.
“Just two?” I led the way to the stables. They were guarded, but the guards, not really expecting any trouble, weren’t as alert as they should have been. I was on the first guard before he even noticed us, and by then it was too late; I left him bleeding out into the dust. He’d had time to let out part of a scream, but it didn’t matter. The only one around to hear was the corpse of the other guard, who Vak had dealt with while I was killing the first one. We saddled the two best horses, and quickly released all the others—a distraction, sure, but I mainly did it out of spite. The loss of a few horses, and even a few guards, was hardly enough revenge, but it’s better than nothing.
We dispatched the two guards at the gate as easily as their fellows, but the magic was more difficult. That was how I was caught the last time I tried to escape. I’d thought I’d neutralized it, and started to climb over, and realized it was stronger than I’d thought when I was stuck to the gate for the rest of the night, until the next round of guards came and caught me.
But Vak was with me this time, and as loath as I am to admit it, he knew more magic than I did. So after a rather tense half hour of sitting on my horse in the cold, watching Vak mutter to himself, we were through, and all we had to do was stay out of sight.
“Where to now?” Vak asked me.
“A ship would be best. You up for a spot of piracy?” He was, of course, and if the small craft we took couldn’t exactly be called a ship, it was quite capable of taking us to Port Endra, in Majardea.
“So is that where it is, then?” Vak finally asked me, on the second day of our voyage. “Majardea, or nearby?”
“Well, it was. But it’s too late now. Did you really think they wouldn’t have gotten that out of me a long time ago?”
He stared at me. I put my hand on the dagger, in case he tried anything, but after a while he just laughed. “I should have known. So what happened to it?”
“Well, that bastard wasn’t about to go off on a quest for it, so I guess he must have sold the information or something. A while back I heard some hero went after it, and she found it, but…. I’m not exactly clear on the details, but I heard them complaining about what a waste that was, because I guess she fed it to a goat. Good riddance, in my opinion, you know what I thought about it.”
Vak shook his head. “A goat. The most powerful artifact known to man, and she fed it to a goat.” He looked at me accusingly. “You owe me.”
“I know.” But I didn’t much care.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Desperate Measures
The only light is the fire, and even that has burned down to embers. That is good. If anyone happens to come down from their rooms, they will see nothing. And yet, it is a fearsome thing, waiting in the dark, flinching at every sound and shadow.
He is a fool, to chose to meet here, and I’ll tell him so when he arrives. I, of course, am a greater one, to have traveled miles in the wind and rain to wait here in the dark for who knows what reason. It’s urgent, the messenger tells me, and no more but for the name of the inn I am now waiting in and the time I am to be here. I wanted to shake him in frustration, but he was but a child who knew no more of the matter than what he’d been told. But when Iaedan gets here, I really will tell him what a fool he is.
But in truth he is no fool, and that is the cause of my fear. Because I know him well, and he has a tendency to understate. If Iaedan says a matter is urgent, disaster is imminent.
I shiver. The room is growing cold, and my hair is still soaked from the rain—hair that falls past the knees does not dry easily. I try to lean my head closer to the fire to dry it, but jerk upright as the room is flooded with moonlight at the silent opening of the door. A hooded figure slips in, the door shuts noiselessly, and the blackness returns.
“You idiot,” I tell him. He makes no response, but crosses the room and sits next to me, cross-legged in front of what’s left of the fire. At the sight of his face, even in the faint light, I can tell I was wrong. Disaster is not imminent; it has already happened.
“Quaos,” Iaedan whispers my name hoarsely. “It’s all my fault.”
“Don’t give me that crap; what is it?” I ask him sharply.
“They’ve been arrested for treason. All six of them. They’re in the dungeons awaiting execution.” He is barely able to say it.
I shudder at the thought of my friends and coconspirators sitting chained in a darkness darker than this, but keep my voice matter-of-fact as I inquire, “What are we going to do?”
He shook his head. “I thought… there was a chance we could… I sent for you because…” He shook his head again. “But there’s nothing we can do. I learned they’re to be executed at dawn.”
I ignore his uncharacteristic hopelessness and jump. “Dawn! Why in hell are we just sitting here? We only have what, four hours?”
“Five, it’s only a little past one, but it would take nearly three hours just to get there.”
“Good, we have time to plan.” I grab his arm and drag him up. Realizing that resistance is useless, he snaps out of his despair as we sneak out of the room.
It’s no longer raining but the ground is wet and even icy in places. I start to say it will take even longer to get there, but I realize his estimate took the weather conditions into account.
“It will be difficult to break them out of thee dungeons,” he muses.
A typical understatement. “Try impossible. No one’s ever escaped the dungeons.”
“There’s a first time for everything.”
I ignore that. “We’ll have to take a more sensible route and rescue them between the dungeons and the gallows.”
“Any plans how?”
“Nope. You?”
He shook his head and we walked in silence, thinking.
“There’ll be a crowd for the execution,” Iaedan says finally. “Maybe we could fade into it and rush at the guards as they bring them past.”
“If the guards didn’t kill us, the mob would. You know what people get like at these things.” I thought more. “Maybe if we disguise as guards, rush them before they get to the crowd…” Seeing the myriad of problems with that plan, I trailed off.
“Disguise as guards and take them from the dungeons before the real guards get there?”
“Have you seen the security in that place? Just because we’re dressed as guards- and where would we even get the uniforms- wouldn’t mean they’d let us take prisoners out.”
We thought of plan after plan and tossed them all out. After we ponder in silence for a while more—we’re perhaps two thirds of the way there—Iaedan says wearily, without much hope, “Maybe we could stop the execution somehow?”
“I don’t know how we could. They won’t stop it for weather; if the gallows burn they’ll behead them; if we’re arrested they’ll just have two more bodies to hang; the king’s magicians will be blocking anything I could try; if the executioner dies they’ll replace him; and I can’t think of a diversion big enough to—“ I stop, shocked by my idea. “We’ll kill the king,” I tell Iaedan.
He is speechless. I continue, trying to be as convincing as possible, because I can actually see this working. “That is our purpose anyway, after all, to depose that tyrant. He won’t be expecting it because he just caught the group of rebels. And his death would be enough to stop the execution, and the chaos afterwards would be enough to let us rescue them, and—”
“Quaos,” Iaedan stops me. “The reason we haven’t killed him yet is that it’s not that easy.”
“But he’ll think that he’s safe, since he just caught the rebels. It’s no riskier than anything else we could do, and we’d be killing two birds with one stone, so to speak.”
“We can’t even figure out how to perform a rescue, much less a murder. Or do you have a plan?”
I do, but I won’t tell it to him. “I’ll take care of the murder, you do the rescue. You can hide somewhere near the dungeon and when all hell breaks loose, do whatever it takes to get them out of there.”
We are nearly at the castle. Iaedan tries to press me for my plan, but I give him nothing and make him promise to do his part. “We’ll meet back at the inn, on the off chance both of us are alive to make it,” he proposes. I agree, and slip away.
The castle is guarded, but it is not hard to slip through a window unnoticed. Once inside, I make my way to the corridor outside of the king’s rooms. As a member of a group of rebels, I’d taken care to find out where he slept a while ago, though till now I’d never been able to use the information.
I peek around a corner and saw a host of guards standing in front of the door. It’s still the right room, then. I glance around to be sure I am unseen, but this part of the hall is empty. I strip off my clothes, unbind my hair, and proceed down the hall.
“Who goes there?” one of the guards demands as they ogle me.
I feign embarrassment. “His majesty asked me to come, sir,” I tell him. My heart pounds with fear and exhilaration.
Seeing that, being unclothed, I am clearly unarmed, the guards make the mistake of assuming I am not dangerous. With only a few crude comments, they let me inside.
To my surprise, the king is not asleep but sitting on the edge of his bed, fully dressed and toying with his crown. I wonder with surprise if he has enough humanity in him to worry over his responsibilities, but I dismiss the thought at seeing that his expression is one of pride. He smiles when he sees me, but says nothing. “Your majesty,” I say, curtsying slightly, and his smile broadens.
I cross the room and embrace him. It nearly sickens me to be in such close proximity to this evil excuse for a human being, but I think of my friends sitting in his dark dungeon and steel myself. He begins to grope me, and, barely managing not to shudder, I sweep my hair over his shoulder and around his neck and pull it as tight as I can. He makes a gurgling sound that would be a scream, and I am nearly too disgusted and horrified to go on. I make myself remember the evils he has done, the children I witnessed him kill, the people rotting in his squalid dungeons, including my friends. The king’s face is purple and the noises issuing from his throat grow even worse. I manage not to let go of the ends of my rope of hair until the noises stop, his breathing stops, his heart stops.
I check to be sure he is dead. He is. I go to the window—he is able to have large windows, a luxury most kings lack, as his mages have spelled them to resist arrows. They do, however, open. It is a three story drop, and I have no rope—for a moment I think of Rapunzel—after all, my hair has been put to one unsavory use already, but this is reality and anyway, my hair’s not that long. So I just jump, and use my magic to create a cushion of air to break my fall. I haven’t much training, so this is one of the few things I can do, and I’m not very good at it. But I don’t die and I don’t break any bones.
I feel uneasy, standing naked in the cold air. I make to the nearest house and sneak in a window. It would be awkward, not to mention dangerous, if the room’s occupant woke up, but she is sound asleep and snoring. I take a shift and a cloak and put both on, and just as I am about to leave I see a pair of scissors on the nightstand and take those too. I walk until I’m far from the town, perhaps halfway to the inn, then take the scissors and crop my hair as short as possible. I bury the hair and the scissors, just as a precaution in case I am at some point followed.
The sun rises perhaps half an hour later. I pray that Iaedan succeeded, that there is no execution, that they are safe. My mind fills with images of their bodies hanging from nooses. I push them away, and it fills with the image of the king’s corpse, my hair still wrapped around his neck. This shouldn’t bother me as much as it does. I wanted him dead, and I’ve spent the last year or so of my life trying to arrange it. And I am glad to end the tyranny, though it does not yet feel real. But the image of that corpse, the knowledge that I killed it, the memory of his face turning purple as I twisted my hair around his neck….
I reach the inn. It is bright and warm inside now, and I am served tea, but it is at least as bad as waiting in the dark had been last night.
It is hours before Iaedan arrives. He gawks at me as he enters and asks incredulously, “What happened to your hair???”
I ignore him, there are more important questions to be asked. “Did you rescue them?”
He nods. “When the news of the king’s murder arrived, the guards just abandoned their posts and ran into the castle. All I had to do is pick some locks. They’re all free, all okay, and I think by now most of them have left the country.”
“I’ll be doing the same.”
“I doubt you need to, if anyone saw you the loss of your hair should be enough of a disguise.”
“Maybe, maybe not, but you know we’ll all be under suspicion.”
“I know, I know. But really, Quaos, what happened to your hair? And even more importantly, how did you do it?”
“They’re really the same question,” I say, and tell him.
He is a fool, to chose to meet here, and I’ll tell him so when he arrives. I, of course, am a greater one, to have traveled miles in the wind and rain to wait here in the dark for who knows what reason. It’s urgent, the messenger tells me, and no more but for the name of the inn I am now waiting in and the time I am to be here. I wanted to shake him in frustration, but he was but a child who knew no more of the matter than what he’d been told. But when Iaedan gets here, I really will tell him what a fool he is.
But in truth he is no fool, and that is the cause of my fear. Because I know him well, and he has a tendency to understate. If Iaedan says a matter is urgent, disaster is imminent.
I shiver. The room is growing cold, and my hair is still soaked from the rain—hair that falls past the knees does not dry easily. I try to lean my head closer to the fire to dry it, but jerk upright as the room is flooded with moonlight at the silent opening of the door. A hooded figure slips in, the door shuts noiselessly, and the blackness returns.
“You idiot,” I tell him. He makes no response, but crosses the room and sits next to me, cross-legged in front of what’s left of the fire. At the sight of his face, even in the faint light, I can tell I was wrong. Disaster is not imminent; it has already happened.
“Quaos,” Iaedan whispers my name hoarsely. “It’s all my fault.”
“Don’t give me that crap; what is it?” I ask him sharply.
“They’ve been arrested for treason. All six of them. They’re in the dungeons awaiting execution.” He is barely able to say it.
I shudder at the thought of my friends and coconspirators sitting chained in a darkness darker than this, but keep my voice matter-of-fact as I inquire, “What are we going to do?”
He shook his head. “I thought… there was a chance we could… I sent for you because…” He shook his head again. “But there’s nothing we can do. I learned they’re to be executed at dawn.”
I ignore his uncharacteristic hopelessness and jump. “Dawn! Why in hell are we just sitting here? We only have what, four hours?”
“Five, it’s only a little past one, but it would take nearly three hours just to get there.”
“Good, we have time to plan.” I grab his arm and drag him up. Realizing that resistance is useless, he snaps out of his despair as we sneak out of the room.
It’s no longer raining but the ground is wet and even icy in places. I start to say it will take even longer to get there, but I realize his estimate took the weather conditions into account.
“It will be difficult to break them out of thee dungeons,” he muses.
A typical understatement. “Try impossible. No one’s ever escaped the dungeons.”
“There’s a first time for everything.”
I ignore that. “We’ll have to take a more sensible route and rescue them between the dungeons and the gallows.”
“Any plans how?”
“Nope. You?”
He shook his head and we walked in silence, thinking.
“There’ll be a crowd for the execution,” Iaedan says finally. “Maybe we could fade into it and rush at the guards as they bring them past.”
“If the guards didn’t kill us, the mob would. You know what people get like at these things.” I thought more. “Maybe if we disguise as guards, rush them before they get to the crowd…” Seeing the myriad of problems with that plan, I trailed off.
“Disguise as guards and take them from the dungeons before the real guards get there?”
“Have you seen the security in that place? Just because we’re dressed as guards- and where would we even get the uniforms- wouldn’t mean they’d let us take prisoners out.”
We thought of plan after plan and tossed them all out. After we ponder in silence for a while more—we’re perhaps two thirds of the way there—Iaedan says wearily, without much hope, “Maybe we could stop the execution somehow?”
“I don’t know how we could. They won’t stop it for weather; if the gallows burn they’ll behead them; if we’re arrested they’ll just have two more bodies to hang; the king’s magicians will be blocking anything I could try; if the executioner dies they’ll replace him; and I can’t think of a diversion big enough to—“ I stop, shocked by my idea. “We’ll kill the king,” I tell Iaedan.
He is speechless. I continue, trying to be as convincing as possible, because I can actually see this working. “That is our purpose anyway, after all, to depose that tyrant. He won’t be expecting it because he just caught the group of rebels. And his death would be enough to stop the execution, and the chaos afterwards would be enough to let us rescue them, and—”
“Quaos,” Iaedan stops me. “The reason we haven’t killed him yet is that it’s not that easy.”
“But he’ll think that he’s safe, since he just caught the rebels. It’s no riskier than anything else we could do, and we’d be killing two birds with one stone, so to speak.”
“We can’t even figure out how to perform a rescue, much less a murder. Or do you have a plan?”
I do, but I won’t tell it to him. “I’ll take care of the murder, you do the rescue. You can hide somewhere near the dungeon and when all hell breaks loose, do whatever it takes to get them out of there.”
We are nearly at the castle. Iaedan tries to press me for my plan, but I give him nothing and make him promise to do his part. “We’ll meet back at the inn, on the off chance both of us are alive to make it,” he proposes. I agree, and slip away.
The castle is guarded, but it is not hard to slip through a window unnoticed. Once inside, I make my way to the corridor outside of the king’s rooms. As a member of a group of rebels, I’d taken care to find out where he slept a while ago, though till now I’d never been able to use the information.
I peek around a corner and saw a host of guards standing in front of the door. It’s still the right room, then. I glance around to be sure I am unseen, but this part of the hall is empty. I strip off my clothes, unbind my hair, and proceed down the hall.
“Who goes there?” one of the guards demands as they ogle me.
I feign embarrassment. “His majesty asked me to come, sir,” I tell him. My heart pounds with fear and exhilaration.
Seeing that, being unclothed, I am clearly unarmed, the guards make the mistake of assuming I am not dangerous. With only a few crude comments, they let me inside.
To my surprise, the king is not asleep but sitting on the edge of his bed, fully dressed and toying with his crown. I wonder with surprise if he has enough humanity in him to worry over his responsibilities, but I dismiss the thought at seeing that his expression is one of pride. He smiles when he sees me, but says nothing. “Your majesty,” I say, curtsying slightly, and his smile broadens.
I cross the room and embrace him. It nearly sickens me to be in such close proximity to this evil excuse for a human being, but I think of my friends sitting in his dark dungeon and steel myself. He begins to grope me, and, barely managing not to shudder, I sweep my hair over his shoulder and around his neck and pull it as tight as I can. He makes a gurgling sound that would be a scream, and I am nearly too disgusted and horrified to go on. I make myself remember the evils he has done, the children I witnessed him kill, the people rotting in his squalid dungeons, including my friends. The king’s face is purple and the noises issuing from his throat grow even worse. I manage not to let go of the ends of my rope of hair until the noises stop, his breathing stops, his heart stops.
I check to be sure he is dead. He is. I go to the window—he is able to have large windows, a luxury most kings lack, as his mages have spelled them to resist arrows. They do, however, open. It is a three story drop, and I have no rope—for a moment I think of Rapunzel—after all, my hair has been put to one unsavory use already, but this is reality and anyway, my hair’s not that long. So I just jump, and use my magic to create a cushion of air to break my fall. I haven’t much training, so this is one of the few things I can do, and I’m not very good at it. But I don’t die and I don’t break any bones.
I feel uneasy, standing naked in the cold air. I make to the nearest house and sneak in a window. It would be awkward, not to mention dangerous, if the room’s occupant woke up, but she is sound asleep and snoring. I take a shift and a cloak and put both on, and just as I am about to leave I see a pair of scissors on the nightstand and take those too. I walk until I’m far from the town, perhaps halfway to the inn, then take the scissors and crop my hair as short as possible. I bury the hair and the scissors, just as a precaution in case I am at some point followed.
The sun rises perhaps half an hour later. I pray that Iaedan succeeded, that there is no execution, that they are safe. My mind fills with images of their bodies hanging from nooses. I push them away, and it fills with the image of the king’s corpse, my hair still wrapped around his neck. This shouldn’t bother me as much as it does. I wanted him dead, and I’ve spent the last year or so of my life trying to arrange it. And I am glad to end the tyranny, though it does not yet feel real. But the image of that corpse, the knowledge that I killed it, the memory of his face turning purple as I twisted my hair around his neck….
I reach the inn. It is bright and warm inside now, and I am served tea, but it is at least as bad as waiting in the dark had been last night.
It is hours before Iaedan arrives. He gawks at me as he enters and asks incredulously, “What happened to your hair???”
I ignore him, there are more important questions to be asked. “Did you rescue them?”
He nods. “When the news of the king’s murder arrived, the guards just abandoned their posts and ran into the castle. All I had to do is pick some locks. They’re all free, all okay, and I think by now most of them have left the country.”
“I’ll be doing the same.”
“I doubt you need to, if anyone saw you the loss of your hair should be enough of a disguise.”
“Maybe, maybe not, but you know we’ll all be under suspicion.”
“I know, I know. But really, Quaos, what happened to your hair? And even more importantly, how did you do it?”
“They’re really the same question,” I say, and tell him.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
They Burn Witches Here
“You might not want to stay around here too long,” the man in the shop warned the woman at the counter. “They burn witches here.”
“I’m not a witch,” she said calmly.
“Try telling them that when they have you tied up to a stake and doused with oil.”
“What, you people burn everyone who passes through town? I can’t imagine that helps your economy.”
“Not everyone. It’s just, your reputation precedes you.”
She rolled her eyes. “So you burn everyone interesting who passes through town.”
“Yep. Look, I’m not saying I agree with it, which is why I’m warning you.”
“Well, I thank you for that. I’ll be gone as soon as I finish what I came here to do.”
He didn’t ask her what that was, just handed her her change and watched her walk out of the store.
Mindful of his warning, she eschewed the main roads, taking a more circumspect route through unsavory alleys that grew even less savory as she reached the poorer part of the town. Finally, she came to a ramshackle tenement. She circled around to the front and climbed up the rickety stairs to the topmost apartment, the cheapest due to the long climb and extreme danger in the case of a fire. She knocked three times on the door.
It was opened by a middle aged man who crossed his arms and stared at her suspiciously.
“Yes?” he demanded.
“I’m here about your daughter. May I come in?”
The suspicion did not leave his face, but he let her inside. The room was small and shabby, and had no furniture but for a large bed and a wood stove. A woman and a girl of perhaps ten were sitting on the floor in the far corner, next to the window that was the only source of light, sewing.
“What does she want?” the woman asked without looking up from her sewing.
“She says she’s here about Kayli.” He turned to their visitor. “I’d offer you a seat, but as you can see, we don’t have any.”
“That’s not a problem,” she replied with a smile, and gracefully seated herself on the floor next to the child. “Are you Kayli?”
The girl nodded but said nothing. The visitor turned back to her parents. “I hear they burn witches here.”
“So?” the man demanded.
“So if someone from here were to have magical ability, it would be wisest for them to study away from home.”
“What are you saying?” demanded the man as the woman told her daughter, “Kayli, go play outside.”
The girl wordlessly left the room, and the visitor had to suppress a smile as the finding spell she had used to get here told her that Kayli was right outside the door listening at the keyhole.
“Surely you’ve noticed.”
“Noticed what? What are you going on about?” Kayli’s father demanded, but the girl’s mother ignored him and said quietly to their visitor, “Yes.”
“You can’t really think she’s safe here.”
“As safe here as anywhere,” Kayli’s mother said bitterly.
“Riantha, what’s going on? What are you talking about?”
Riantha ignored her husband. “You see? If her own father doesn’t know, it’s hardly likely anyone else will.”
Their visitor shook her head. “For now, maybe. But when she starts levitating things or causing explosions or turning people into rats? There’s too much magic in her to stay quiet for long.”
They both stared at her. Finally, Riantha demanded, “So are you saying she’s doomed?”
“Only if she stays here.”
“Are you saying my daughter’s a witch?” Kayli’s father demanded.
“No. Witches, and most magicians, are merely people who know how to use magic. Kayli has magic in her blood.”
“So you’re saying my daughter’s worse than a witch?” he demanded furiously. Without giving her time to answer, he bellowed, “Then you don’t have to worry about her staying here! I won’t have a witch under my roof!”
“Wait,” Riantha pleaded. “Maybe she can be cured, exorcised, something…”
Their visitor shook her head. “It’s not like that. She can learn to control it, of course, but she’ll always have magic. It’s not some kind of disease; it’s part of who she is.”
Riantha began to cry. “So she really is doomed,” she said. “She really is doomed.”
The visitor looked at them sadly. “If that’s how you want to see it.” She turned towards the door. “Kayli, do you want to come with me?”
The door opened slowly. Kayli’s eyes were red and wet with tears, but she nodded. The woman took her hand and looked back towards her parents, but neither protested.
“I promise she’ll be safe,” she told them anyway, just before she and Kayli disappeared.
“I’m not a witch,” she said calmly.
“Try telling them that when they have you tied up to a stake and doused with oil.”
“What, you people burn everyone who passes through town? I can’t imagine that helps your economy.”
“Not everyone. It’s just, your reputation precedes you.”
She rolled her eyes. “So you burn everyone interesting who passes through town.”
“Yep. Look, I’m not saying I agree with it, which is why I’m warning you.”
“Well, I thank you for that. I’ll be gone as soon as I finish what I came here to do.”
He didn’t ask her what that was, just handed her her change and watched her walk out of the store.
Mindful of his warning, she eschewed the main roads, taking a more circumspect route through unsavory alleys that grew even less savory as she reached the poorer part of the town. Finally, she came to a ramshackle tenement. She circled around to the front and climbed up the rickety stairs to the topmost apartment, the cheapest due to the long climb and extreme danger in the case of a fire. She knocked three times on the door.
It was opened by a middle aged man who crossed his arms and stared at her suspiciously.
“Yes?” he demanded.
“I’m here about your daughter. May I come in?”
The suspicion did not leave his face, but he let her inside. The room was small and shabby, and had no furniture but for a large bed and a wood stove. A woman and a girl of perhaps ten were sitting on the floor in the far corner, next to the window that was the only source of light, sewing.
“What does she want?” the woman asked without looking up from her sewing.
“She says she’s here about Kayli.” He turned to their visitor. “I’d offer you a seat, but as you can see, we don’t have any.”
“That’s not a problem,” she replied with a smile, and gracefully seated herself on the floor next to the child. “Are you Kayli?”
The girl nodded but said nothing. The visitor turned back to her parents. “I hear they burn witches here.”
“So?” the man demanded.
“So if someone from here were to have magical ability, it would be wisest for them to study away from home.”
“What are you saying?” demanded the man as the woman told her daughter, “Kayli, go play outside.”
The girl wordlessly left the room, and the visitor had to suppress a smile as the finding spell she had used to get here told her that Kayli was right outside the door listening at the keyhole.
“Surely you’ve noticed.”
“Noticed what? What are you going on about?” Kayli’s father demanded, but the girl’s mother ignored him and said quietly to their visitor, “Yes.”
“You can’t really think she’s safe here.”
“As safe here as anywhere,” Kayli’s mother said bitterly.
“Riantha, what’s going on? What are you talking about?”
Riantha ignored her husband. “You see? If her own father doesn’t know, it’s hardly likely anyone else will.”
Their visitor shook her head. “For now, maybe. But when she starts levitating things or causing explosions or turning people into rats? There’s too much magic in her to stay quiet for long.”
They both stared at her. Finally, Riantha demanded, “So are you saying she’s doomed?”
“Only if she stays here.”
“Are you saying my daughter’s a witch?” Kayli’s father demanded.
“No. Witches, and most magicians, are merely people who know how to use magic. Kayli has magic in her blood.”
“So you’re saying my daughter’s worse than a witch?” he demanded furiously. Without giving her time to answer, he bellowed, “Then you don’t have to worry about her staying here! I won’t have a witch under my roof!”
“Wait,” Riantha pleaded. “Maybe she can be cured, exorcised, something…”
Their visitor shook her head. “It’s not like that. She can learn to control it, of course, but she’ll always have magic. It’s not some kind of disease; it’s part of who she is.”
Riantha began to cry. “So she really is doomed,” she said. “She really is doomed.”
The visitor looked at them sadly. “If that’s how you want to see it.” She turned towards the door. “Kayli, do you want to come with me?”
The door opened slowly. Kayli’s eyes were red and wet with tears, but she nodded. The woman took her hand and looked back towards her parents, but neither protested.
“I promise she’ll be safe,” she told them anyway, just before she and Kayli disappeared.
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