Broken Earth Read online

  “That he is. Only a little emotional at times.” He started clearing away the dishes from the bar. “I’ll be here to see you both off!”

  Upstairs, Heidi splashed herself quickly with water from a washstand that had somehow come to be full. She put on her cloak, fastening the button at her throat; and then looked to Dera.

  “Does it seem strange that I want to stay here with the little people?” Dera asked.

  Heidi laughed. “If I thought that you actually meant that, I would be worried.”

  “I do mean it. I wish we didn’t have to go any farther.”

  “Oh, Dera – we’re not going to start all that again, are we?”

  “No, we’re not. I won’t argue with you anymore; but that doesn’t mean that I don’t wish I was home.”

  “Trust me – I wish the very same thing.”

  Dera did not use this as fuel to begin another dispute. She simply tidied her hair in the glass over the washstand, and picked up a bag from the floor. She even smiled at Heidi before she left the room.

  “I just never know what to expect,” said Heidi to herself, shaking her head and hefting the remaining pack.

  Back downstairs, Doulo and Noulo were waiting by the door. Doulo had taken off his orange cap, and was holding it at his breast.

  “Everyone needs a good send-off!” he said, bowing low and holding out his cap.

  “Everyone does,” Noulo agreed, nodding knowledgeably and staring at Heidi.

  Doulo went to open the door for them. He stood with his back to it, waiting for them to pass through.

  Dera nodded to him, and walked out into the morning sunlight.

  But Heidi remained behind for a moment. Noulo looked so miserable, it was even making her feel poorly. She smiled at him as brightly as she could, and then gave him a quick hug. When she let go, she saw that he was smiling again. Wider than ever, in fact.

  “Miss Heidi is very lovely,” he said. “Very lovely. Very kind.”

  “Thank you, Noulo. But I assure you, that you are quite the same.”

  He blushed rather violently, and hid his face in his brother’s shoulder, unable to look at Heidi as she went out the door.

  “Thank you both,” she said. “Take care.”

  “And you!” said Doulo, tipping his cap to her once more. “Safe travels!”

  Doulo and Noulo remained by the door, as Heidi and Dera untied their horses, and waved as they made their way from the lot.

  “You look lovely together,” said Dera.

  “What?”

  “You and Noulo! Quite the pair, you are.”

  “Oh, hush up.”

  “An Auren and a dwarf – dear me! Imagine the children.”

  They rode on into the morning, and it slipped quickly by to give way to the noontime sun. They shielded their eyes against it, until it began to set; and the evening of the fourth day of their journey took hold.

  IX: The Beast

  The days had fallen back to their usual monotony, the end of each resulting in just a little less fear of what lay beyond the walls of the city. The only thing left for Lila to fret over was Antony; but that was such a thing within itself that she was glad for the brief respite.

  Still she was not sleeping. She felt, indeed, that if she lay awake many more nights, she would become some kind of otherworldly entity who could do nothing but walk the long halls of the castle after the sun had set.

  She increasingly avoided her mother’s room, always just slightly more unwilling to see her in such a frightful state. Her health seemed to be gradually deteriorating. Earlier in the week, Lila had gone in to her to find that she was not breathing. Her body shook, and her skin was deathly cold. It lasted for what seemed whole minutes, and scared Lila nearly to the death that her mother seemed to be fast approaching.

  So Lila delivered orders to the medicine man, requesting that he look in on the Queen quite as often as he could. He agreed readily; and Lila was relieved. It was beginning to require some hours of preparation, before she could find the courage to look in on her. And who was to say what could happen, in those times in betwixt?

  ~

  She came awake one night after less than an hour of sleep. She had fallen into bed that evening, completely and utterly expired, after having finished with all daily aspects of the sovereign post that she was quickly tiring of. She wished, sometimes, that it was Antony in her place; which made the power she had intentionally exercised over him even less comprehensible.

  Despite all that, the spell cast by her fatigue had not been strong enough, and she found herself, quite as usual, sitting up in her armchair and gazing out of the balcony doors.

  So she went to her mother for the first time in six days, hoping that her sleep was not deep and that she would be able to speak with her.

  “Mother?” she said. “Are you awake?”

  “When you call, darling, I am always awake.”

  Lila went into the room. She walked to the bed and, after looking down at her mother for a moment, lay down beside her.

  Abella did not ask after the time that Lila had been absent. She only said, “What brings you to this dreary room, at this time of night?”

  “It’s no such thing,” said Lila, settling her head back against one of the pillows. “And it’s really not so late.”

  “You can understand that I lose track of the time,” said Abella. “With these drapes always drawn, I can seldom tell the difference between day and night.”

  “What does it matter? Believe me, the time of day is of hardly any consequence anymore.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “Meaning that it is all the same, all of the time.”

  Abella laid a hand upon Lila’s arm. “I think it is safe to say, my dearest Lila, that you are quite the dreariest thing in this room tonight.”

  “That is probably true.”

  “But why? Things are not so bad as they could be.”

  “They are bad enough.”

  Abella only smiled.

  They lay in silence for a while – until Lila found the nerve to say what she had meant to, all along.

  “Mother?”

  “Yes, dearest?”

  “I hope that you don’t mind me asking, but – well, I know that you’re ill, but what exactly – I mean to say, what is it that is making you so?”

  She hoped that the pieced and stammered nature of the question did not detract any intended gravity from it.

  “I knew that you would ask me eventually,” said Abella.

  “Then there is something that you have not told me?”

  “There is – but I kept it to myself for good reason.”

  “What good could come of that?”

  Abella was quiet for a moment, and her expression was one of deep thought. She seemed to be having a kind of debate with herself, not necessarily as to what she would tell Lila, but as to whether she would.

  “I know you too well, Lila,” she said. “And I do not think that there is any reason for me to tell you.”

  “You may think that. But I want to know – and I won’t leave until you’ve told me.”

  “I would expect no less, of course.”

  “Then you will tell me?”

  “I suppose you have a right to know.”

  Lila waited.

  “It was almost eleven months ago now,” said Abella, “when I gave all of my Power to you.”

  Lila sat up. “What did you say?”

  “You heard me, darling.”

  “Then I just don’t understand.”

  Abella took a laboured breath, and moved to fix herself up against her pillows. Lila took one and placed it behind her head.

  “I shall tell you all,” she said. “But you must promise not to say anything until I’ve finished. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “Once upon a time,” Abella began, “this land was a place of great peace and safety. From the day I took the throne, I knew the love and reverence of my people.
That was, of course, when I ruled over all lands South of the river, from the boundary of the West to the shores of the sea. All of that land was called Désarn, as you well know, and Onssgaard was but one small part of it. The women of my line have ruled Désarn for centuries, and have taken husbands to serve as Kings. As your father knew before he married me – but grew to resent as the years wore on – the King of Désarn is but a second-hand position, and sits always below that of the Queen. My mother, and my mother’s mother, and her mother before her for many, many years, all came to know the grief that comes with absolute power. It might not have been so terrible, if William had not had that snake forever whispering in his ear . . . But we won’t talk of that now, it has very little to do with this story.

  Those who wished to conquer my lands were wary, for my Army and I were formidable adversaries. At that time, I only knew of one other whose Power rivalled mine. She was a woman of great beauty and malice, from whom anyone in their right mind would, if they saw her, turn and run in the distinctly opposite direction. The malevolence and cruelty of Dain Aerca – sometimes referred to then, and still today, simply as the Sorceress – was not something to take lightly.

  Aerca made it clear from the beginning that she wished to do battle with me. I refused, and it was a surprisingly easy thing to do – what with the fact that she had far fewer allies than I did, as well as a significantly lesser ability for organisation and command.

  Which is not to say that she was easily dissuaded. My two children – one of whom sits beside me now, no doubt wondering why I never told her this story before – learnt at a very young age that they were to fear and respect the Power of the Sorceress, and that they were by no means to trust it. I taught you both as best I could the art of the elemental Powers; but your brother’s ability to wield them was nothing compared to your own. You yourself became quickly proficient, and eventually advanced, in the practice.

  I told you that the throne would be yours, if I was ever rendered unable to rule. Of course, you did not expect to obtain it for a great many years. You had unshakable faith in my Power, which may have been less than wise. You also held the belief that your own Power would never be quite so fearsome – which was an untruth from the start.

  It was not until years later that Aerca finally coordinated herself into an entity of domination, attracting the lost and the power-hungry to her side with promises of riches and control. Her coalition became known as the Dúnanen – which means “shadow,” in the old language of this land. And so as a shadow ever they were, spreading over everything like a darkness, and drinking light from their path. The Sorceress drew the Lumaria to her first; for they had ravaged themselves in war against one another, and were in need of her protection. Once they were in her hand, she went after mortal men – men to the South, men whose hearts were already darker than most. They had lived under her shadow for years; and many believed that it was better to gain her favour, than to be out of it. Those who would not go to her, she cast from their homes, and scattered in poverty all across the land. But those who remained, she took up in her grasp. She filled their eyes with fire, and laid upon them many weapons. Only recently has she conscripted the wolves to her army.”

  She took a moment to shake her head, and to ponder the horror of these evil forces; afterwards merely attempting a smile, and patting Lila’s hand gently.

  “I knew that I was the object of her efforts. I learnt quickly that Aerca had increased her own Power to an unbelievable degree, making herself as strong as (if not stronger than) myself. I knew the possible repercussions, but I had no choice except to follow suit.

  In order to strengthen herself, Aerca had performed a sacrifice: a child, barely old enough to speak; and certainly not old enough to flee. An innocent. Unwilling as I was to commit such an act, I was forced to simply give my own Power to someone else. I removed it from myself, and planted it inside you, Lila, as if it were the seed of a tree – to grow tall and mighty, into something greater than even I had ever possessed. This all left me very weak, and I became bound to my bed.

  Though I still held all proper rights to the throne, you were forced to be its physical occupant. You have directed the men, and answered their questions; all news regarding Onssgaard’s affairs is and has been delivered directly to you. As the months wore on, your Power showed visible signs of being the most wonderful (and terrible) thing that I had ever seen. I grew alarmed on occasion – especially when you were angry, and control somewhat left you – that I had done wrong. But now I know better.”

  Here, Lila made to disagree – for certainly, she had not seen anything in herself so very great – but her mother shushed her.

  “It is true – you still have not become what you will have to, in order to do what I planned from the very beginning. You are still growing into your gift – and I can put no estimate on the amount of time it will take for you to fully embrace it. Of course, I never told you (or anyone else, for that matter) exactly what I did. I simply watched, and waited, and prayed for things to change. Yet you remain, dearest Lila, my one and only hope.”

  Lila knew not what to say. It could not be true! How could it be true?

  “Why would you do that?” she asked. “Surely you must have known that I would never be as strong as you.”

  “You already are,” said Abella. “You just don’t know it.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “It isn’t.”

  Lila got to her feet, and went to stand at the foot of the bed. She ran her hands through her hair, and hid her face in her hands.

  “I cannot believe what you’ve told me.”

  “You wanted to know.”

  “I know,” said Lila, turning to walk towards the opposite wall. Then she walked back, and back again, her legs having grown restless. “But I cannot believe . . .”

  “It is time for you to start believing,” said Abella; and her voice was stern, proud and firm. It was the tone that filled Lila still with fear, and made her feel only a small girl; making her forget that she, as ignorant and useless as she was, held the throne of Eredor.

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “You know exactly what you have to do. You have to lead these people, and you have to give them faith. They look to you for it – no matter what they might say, as they pass you by in the streets.”

  “How do you know about that?”

  Abella smiled. “I might be ill, darling, but I’m no fool.”

  Lila watched her face for a moment, so thin and drawn with sickness. But it was not sickness, not truly. Perhaps, if she could only . . .

  “What if I gave it back to you?” Lila asked. “If I gave back what you have given to me, would you be well again?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then let me give it back! I don’t want it, not at this cost.”

  “No matter how willing you are to give it, I cannot take it. The prophecy does not include me.”

  “What prophecy?”

  Abella took a shallow breath, sinking down a little into her pile of pillows. “No more tonight,” she said. “I am tired.”

  “But Mother –”

  “No more, Lila. Go to bed.”

  As Lila walked slowly from the room, unable to argue against her mother’s order, there fell a great heaviness upon her soul. She went down the hall, and down the steps, thinking of all she had just heard; and wondering if anything else in all the wide world could make her feel more wretched.

  ~

  She woke the next morning, quite unsurprisingly, in her chair; legs curled up beneath her, head lying at an awkward angle upon the armrest.

  “I’ll cripple myself this way, I’m sure of it,” she muttered, pulling herself out of the chair with some difficulty. She went to the doors and looked outside, viewing the sun-filled, cloudless morning with nowhere near the happiness as she might have once been able. She turned away from it almost angrily, and was preparing to dress (throwing things from her closet onto the floor in an at
tempt to make herself feel better) when there came a round of knocking at the door.

  She slipped her robe over her shoulders, and gave answer. The caller was Yuvi Flay, leader of the Second Regiment.

  “Yes, Commander?” said Lila, tying a knot in her robe and crossing her arms before Flay’s darting eyes. He seemed to be in some kind of a panic.

  “There is trouble, Princess,” he said, taking a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his brow.

  “Of course there is trouble,” said Lila. “There is always trouble. But what is on the bill for today, Commander?”

  “It is Prince Antony. We have received word of his situation.”

  “His situation?”

  “He has been taken captive by the Sorceress. She is using him as a bargaining chip, as leverage to gain a meeting with you.”

  Lila felt her heart sink. She had hoped against all hopes, that something like this would not happen; and now she felt almost betrayed, as though whatever balances existed between good and evil had tipped far and purposefully out of her favour.

  “Where is he?”

  “We don’t know. The Sorceress gave no location. She only listed her demands.”

  “Which are?”

  “Only to meet with you.”

  “How did she contact you?”

  “By messenger. One of those pasty-looking fellows arrived at the castle gate, only minutes before I made my way here.”

  “A Lumarian?”

  Flay nodded nervously. “Yes, I think so.”

  “To whom was the message delivered?”

  “First to Horas Boag. When the fellow came to the gate, Boag sent for me; but the message was told first to him.”

  “Very well,” said Lila, feeling already overwhelmed; but insistent on not making Flay aware of it. “I’ll be down in a few moments. Meet me at the stables with Boag. And Thomas Henry, as well,” she added.

  “Of course, Princess,” said Flay, turning immediately and hurrying back down the hall.

  By the time Lila got to the stables, the others were already there. She turned first to Boag, and asked him to repeat what had been said to him by the Lumarian at the gate.

  “I’m afraid that some of it went right through my ears,” he said, looking at Lila with flushed cheeks. “You know how those things are; so creepy and strange-looking. Sent chills right through me, he did.”