Chapter 16

Faces.

Beyond the gate, gathered in thick throngs on the road, was a sea of faces, all tan and white and pink against a backdrop of green jungle. The noise rose in a crescendo when her horse passed beneath the guardian arch of the castle walls. The bright sun, blazing down like a beacon from the heavens, blinded her and her horse stumbled in the dust, trying to keep pace with Carlisle's stallion. She blinked, confused, as she leaned back and brought a hand to her eyes, trying to squint away the blooming spots of red and blue that danced across her field of view.

There were hundreds of them, all eager-eyed and gawking, crowding the sandy shoulders of the roads. Bella had only seen the town proper from her tower window, had only seen their squat little buildings with clay walls and thatched rooves from a distance, and as her horse slowly picked its way over stones and potholes, she had a chance to look properly. Carlisle went ahead, clearing a narrow path through the bodies, and Bella followed as closely as she could.

The roads beneath them were made of hard, packed sand. Yellow dirt in some spots and brown mud in others, each landing of a horse's footfall sent little puffs of dust to the crowds above. As far as Bella could see beyond the thronging crowds and close-packed homes, the road was winding and curved, slithering between buildings like a coiling snake. Crowds parted as Bella's party moved through, and as she passed women, men, and giggling children, hands reached out to brush her sandals, the hem of her skirt, and the bridle of her horse.

"My Lady!" they whispered, hushed and awed. "Goddess!" they murmured.

Bella kept a tight hold on her horse.

They moved in a slow, but steady, procession. High above the crowds, mounted atop her horse, Bella could see a good length down the road. She fought against her urge to examine the people on the path and inspected the town instead.

The main road was peppered with strange and foreign sights.

Behind the heads and faces lining the shoulders of the road, Bella had a glimpse into the lives and homes of the people of Marolando. The King's great castle was a towering, formidable fortress compared to these shanty buildings, but for what they lacked in grandeur, they made up in curiosity. Innumerable glassless windows carved into clay walls were hung with strange, bulbous fruit, shining red like rubies in the noontime sun. Doors of thick bamboo with wooden knockers and rope handles were hung with wild wreaths of vines and all manner and colour of shrub and flower. Big, cerulean birds with white breasts roosted atop nearly every flat roof in large nests of straw and sticks. Beneath a red and gold canopy rested a cart of produce— bright yellow bananas, dark, ripened avocado, crimson persimmons, and a bushel basket of dark, juicy grapes. A stall a few doors down was draped in black cloth, upon which lay a plethora of shining jewels. Bracelets of silver, encrusted with stones of verdant green and vibrant yellow were laid out like shimmering serpents. A golden brooch with gems of peacock blue and deep, royal purple was pinned in the centre of the display. Strings of pearls, both long and short, were wound in coils of brilliant white about the perimeter of the stall. Twine threaded with beads of all colours and sizes hung from thick, silver nails hammered into boards, and little stone idols— fat and round and jolly— congregated in groups in all four corners.

As Bella leaned left and right to get a glimpse of these curiosities, Kora followed Carlisle's horse with a plodding steadiness that Bella had not expected of her. The horse held her head down and kept so close to the lead stallion that her nose almost brushed his tail with each careful step. Bella held tight to the reins, and though she squeezed the saddle tight with her thighs, her horse did not try to overtake Carlisle's.

"Are you steady, Bella?" asked Carlisle, his voice slightly raised so that she might hear him over the low rumble of voices.

"Yes," she said. A child kissed the hem of her riding skirt. "Yes…"

"Good," Carlisle faced the crowd again. "To the side, please!"

A woman's fingers gripped her ankle. Faltering slightly, Bella pulled Kora to a stop, gently extricating her foot from the calloused, dusty hand.

"Please," she said, though what she wanted, she did not know. "Please…"

"My Lady!" the woman rasped in a gravelly, strangely accented voice. "My Lady… Goddess!"

"I…"

"...a blessing…" The woman's voice was low, and Bella could hardly hear her over the din.

"Come, Bella!" Carlisle had turned, and was watching as the crowds flocked to her. "Please, stand aside!"

A few listened. Many did not.

"I must go…" Her words went unheard. "Please, let me through…"

"Stand aside!" shouted Carlisle again, and this time, more paid heed. He sounded cross, and the few onlookers who stood nearest him bristled anxiously, shuffling their feet in the dirt. His horse began to pick its way through the bodies towards her. "Let her through!"

More people moved.

"Goddess!" A chant began to rise like a song in the heat. "Blessings from the Goddess!"

"Blessings!"

"Goddess!"

"Blessings!"

"GODDESS!"

The inexplicable, abject fascination of the crowd was unbelievable. Bella was not used to being the centre of attention— all her life, she had lived on the fringes, always present, but never really a part of the excitement and joy of others. Bella was a quintessential wallflower— always watching, but never watched, always listening, but never heard. She had been a gentle, shy child who had grown into a quiet and introspective woman. Bookish and odd, Bella had never been the kind of person to whom people flocked, nor was she the type that people went out of their way to please. Bella loved her family, and her books, and her dog, and she had always been quite content to live her life in the solitude to which she'd become accustomed.

"I'm not…" Bella stammered, her words stunted and her cadence low as Carlisle took hold of Kora's bridle. Expertly, as one who had ridden for a hundred years, he began to lead her skittish, nervous horse through the narrow path he'd carved through the crowd, just wide enough for the two of them to stagger through. He took her hand when she crept near enough, and Bella clung on for dear life.

"It's alright, Bella." Carlisle spoke softly. "Do not be afraid. None of them wish you ill."

"But," she stuttered, "they're calling me…"

"I know what they call you." He gave her a wan smile. "Just focus on the road, and on Kora. Trust her, and she'll stay true."

"I am not a Goddess!"

The people nearest her shouted even louder. Two hands, both from different petitioners, gripped the hem of her skirt, and she felt a seam give way at her waist when Kora pulled her free.

"I know you're not." Carlisle pursed his lips as yet another wall of people— one that blocked his way to the gates, and to his wife, who'd managed to get through without much struggle— formed on the road. His horse shuffled its way around them.

"Blessings, please…" the women begged.

"For my children!"

"For my brother!"

"My son, Mistress… my only son…"

Bella felt a lump growing in her throat. The noise, deafening at the best of times, seemed incomprehensible now, and the louder the people shouted, the hotter her face grew.

"Goddess!"

"My Lady!"

"Blessings!"

"Please," Bella said, and this time, the desperation rang through. "Please, let us by…"

A man held out a baby to her, and Carlisle tugged Kora forward before he could hand the child up.

"Stand aside!" bellowed Carlisle again, and the ire in his voice was such that even Bella, who clung to him with the utmost fervor, recoiled. Bella had never heard him shout— not even when she'd disobeyed his medical orders back in the blue tower room— and if it was enough to make Bella nervous, it made the crowd falter.

"Stand aside!" shouted another man, and Bella saw an anonymous brown head begin to shoo the crowd away. Bodies shuffled— men and women, all looking deferentially at Carlisle, began to clear the way, widening the path and clearing the road for their safe passage. Though he was not a member of the King's family, nor was he one of his soldiers, his status as the Island Healer evidently held some weight, as while he'd had to shout to make himself heard, once he had been, the people had obeyed.

"I thank you," said Carlisle, though no fatherly smile graced his face now. "The Lady thanks you…"

Bella squeezed his hand with all her strength.

Minutes passed and though the noise did not diminish, the number of hands on her feet and clothing did. They wove their way through the streets, following a well-trodden, earthen path past alleyways and homes, through marketplaces, and around a great, sprawling city garden. Esme caught them as soon as they had passed the blockade of reaching bodies, and just as soon as she could, she took up her post on Bella's other side, effectively blocking her from the curious, starstruck gaze of the rest of Edward's people.

"They won't hurt you, Bella," said Esme. She spoke loud enough for her husband to hear. "They wouldn't hurt you, not when they think you're—"

"I'm not," Bella repeated, tears still brimming close to the surface. "I'm not what they think I am…"

"I know, darling… I know… It won't be so bad once we're home."

"How far?" asked Bella. "How much further?"

"Nevermind," said Esme. A child threw a flower and it landed on Bella's saddlebag. "Just focus on the present. We're almost to the gates, and it won't be nearly so crowded once we pass through. Just stay close to Carlisle."

Carlisle still had a cautious hand on Kora's bridle.

"I will," Bella vowed, her knuckles gripping the reins so hard they'd turned white. "Don't worry, Esme. I will."

In the time it took them to clear the village gates and ride through lush, verdant countryside to the edge of the great, green jungle, the sun's hot orb had begun to touch the tips of the swaying palm trees. Bella could still hear the roars of the people, as noisome and unruly as a crowd at a college football game. She could not see their faces, nor could she make out the words they shouted from this great distance, but she could imagine, as plainly as if they were still here, their cries of "Goddess!" and "blessings!". Her ears were ringing in the sudden hush.

"Do you need a break, Bella?" Carlisle's voice, so sharp in the quiet, made her jump. "We can stop here, if you'd like. There's a fine copse of trees ahead that would do well for a rest, and we've got some time to spare before we lose the light. It's got a soft bed of grass to rest on and plenty of shade to get out of the sun for a spell."

"Yes," she replied. "Yes please…"

Her legs were burning.

"Very well." He smiled at his wife. "The spot is just up ahead... about two hundred meters."

They tied the horses to a beam worn down by countless beasts that had been tethered there before theirs. Carlisle had been right— though they were only just past the edge of the thick, verdant treeline, the dim shade in which they sat was delicious. Bella could feel the tight ache at the back of her neck that told of sunburn, and her tongue felt so dry that when she pulled her water pouch from the satchel of rations prepared by the King's kitchen staff, she drank until her stomach protested. The beating headache behind her eyes— no doubt a mix of worry and thirst— eased somewhat when she leaned back against a tree, sighing a great breath of relief.

"Easy…" laughed Carlisle, taking a small sip from his own water pouch. "You'll be sick if you drink too much at once."

"It's hot," complained Bella. "Where I come from, it's almost never as hot as this."

"I can tell," said Carlisle wryly. "Why, if you were any paler, you'd be glowing!"

Bella scowled at him.

"Are you legs very sore?" asked Esme, holding out a piece of hard, seedy bread to her. Bella took it graciously. "Riding is never easy, especially when you're out of practice…"

Bella gave her knees an experimental wiggle on the ground. She felt her thighs protest.

"Not terribly," she conceded. "I'm sure I'll make it."

"If you'd relax, it would go easier," advised Carlisle. "It might be difficult at first, especially after that trek through the village, but it'll do you good in the long run. Are you still nervous?"

"Not so much."

"Try to ease up," Carlisle repeated. "Remember what the stable master said? The horse responds to your legs, as well as your reins."

"Yes…"

"I'd hate for you to develop saddle sores, most especially given the length we've yet to go. If you keep it up, you won't walk straight for a week."

Bella's face flamed red. Esme, who'd only just sat down next to her, gave her husband such a long-suffering stare that Carlisle, blinking confusedly back at her, could only shrug his shoulders.

"She's only a beginner," she said pointedly. "Remember your own early days?"

"Yes," said Carlisle slowly, "and I remember not listening to the stable master when he told me how to sit. I ended up with sores the size of my hand all over my—"

"Regardless," interrupted Esme curtly, "you've done very well so far, Bella." She shot Carlisle a pointed look of annoyance. "We've not even had to slow down."

"No, we haven't, but…"

"Hush." Esme scowled at her husband. "If you've nothing complimentary to say, then I suggest you say nothing at all. I've watched her all the while, and there's nothing at all the matter with her posture on that horse."

Bella had to stifle her grin at the look of affront on Carlisle's face.

Esme patted her on the knee. "You've done a marvelous job with Kora."

The horse, her blonde mane shining in the long streak of sunshine filtering through two glossy palm leaves over head, continued to eat her fill of soft, green grass.

"We're getting used to one another," said Bella, finishing her bread. "She's not half so nervous as she was."

"She's a good horse," chimed in Carlisle, eying his wife with particular curiosity. "She's very young, but altogether reliable, I think."

Kora snorted and tossed her head. Her tail, flicking wildly to and fro, brushed the nose of Carlisle's stallion. His nostrils flared and he gave a low whinny, though Kora paid him no mind.

"How much further is it to your home?" asked Bella. She took a final sip of water from her pouch to wash down the crumbs. "Are we nearly there?"

"Not quite half way," said Esme gently. A bird called out from a branch overhead. "But the rest of the way will be much quicker, now that we are alone on the road. The most we might meet down here are some of the lumbermen, who find good trees for building, or some of Edward's soldiers from the Southern Watchtower."

"Watchtower?" Bella asked, her interest piqued.

"Yes," said Esme gently. "One of four on the island… though only three are used."

"Four?"

"North, south east, and west," said Esme playfully. "One in each quadrant. Only the west is unmanned, given the current climate…"

"Current climate?" Bella saw Carlisle's eyes darken. "What do you mean?"

"That's not a story for such a time or place," said Carlisle wisely, and Esme pursed her lips. "Perhaps we should wait for home?"

Bella looked away.

"She should know, Carlisle…" said Esme gently. "I forget how much she doesn't know. And considering that we're going straight into the trees…"

"There is nothing in these trees," dismissed Carlisle curtly. "Don't frighten her with such nonsense."

"What nonsense?" asked Bella carefully, and Carlisle met her gaze. "Please…"

"I do not wish to frighten you with fairy stories." Carlisle shook his head. "No one really knows the truth of it— only the stories— and…"

"I'm not a child," she said. "Please… what's the worry?"

He stared at her, and Bella felt as if he were looking through her, rather than at her. He considered her for a long moment, almost as if deciding whether or not she really was the adult she claimed to be, before he sighed, rubbed a hand over his eyes, and took a deep, steadying breath.

"Alia," he said darkly. Though the word was unfamiliar to her, she'd heard it before, in passing. "In the west."

"Alia?" she spoke softly. "What are alia?"

Esme shook her head.

"They are a… faction," she said slowly. "They are, or were, us. But they are no longer."

Bella blinked in confusion. Esme, sighing, leaned back against the trunk of a large tree.

"If you are to understand the present, you must understand the past," said Esme, "for nothing can be made clear in the now, if the then is murky and dim."

Bella waited with bated breath.

"Years ago— what, about a hundred?" Esme looked to Carlisle for clarification.

"Just about," Carlisle said softly.

"When Edward's great-great-grandfather was King," she continued, "there was a disagreement."

Bella listened carefully.

"Now, It might sound strange to you, as one who has come from abroad, but the way we live our lives is based on our stories," said Esme. "We have many— stories for birth, and death, and everything in between."

Carlisle folded his legs, listening with almost as much interest as Bella now that Esme had begun to tell the tale. He seemed to like stories, even though Bella was almost certain that this would not be a happy one.

"Our stories are guiding and sacred," continued Esme, "and the story that tells of marriage— the joining of two souls in sacred unity— is paramount. It tells of Gertruda and Hermano, a woman and her intended, who, when all the world was new, met, and loved, and took their vows. They made a choice, Bella… they chose to be together."

Bella, still listening, paid careful attention.

"That choice is at the center of all things, when it comes to the disagreement between Edward's ancestors and the Alia. You see, in the days of King Philippo— Edward's great-great-grandfather— marriage was much as it is today. Couples met, they talked, they found love, and they took their vows. And only after the vows, after they are joined together in spirit, could they be bound together by flesh."

Carlisle squeezed Esme's hand, and Bella felt heat rising up her neck.

"But the vows we take are mutual, you see?" Esme paused, staring intently at Bella's confused and questioning face. "A man cannot force a woman to marry, nor can a woman force a man. Such a union is not a joining of two willing souls, but a theft of something that was not freely given. It is not binding in the eyes of Gods or men."

Bella bit her lip.

"So when King Philippo's only daughter— just a girl— was taken from her bed in the great red tower by the son of his most trusted advisor, it was not a union of love. She was only a child, you see— not quite 13, if the tales are to be believed— and such a vile betrayal of the King's confidence and trust could not go unpunished. The King loved his daughter, as all good fathers should, and it was with great anger and sorrow that he sent his sons out to search for her. They searched the city, and the jungle, and every last homestead in the realm, until they reached the Stony Shore on the western tip of the Island."

Carlisle heaved a sigh. Bella, enraptured by the tale, did not say a word.

"And there they found her," continued Esme, "in a small cave, hidden by the very man who'd stolen her. Bound in chains and frozen half to death with damp and cold, she was pulled from that dank prison by her eldest brother's hands. When he got her warm— he had built her a fire, you see— her captor returned to find his lair raided, and his prize, stolen. The Princess' captor challenged the Prince to single-combat, and the Prince, being the son of the King, could not refuse."

Bella waited with bated breath.

"They fought," Carlisle cut in, his voice as sorrowful and sad as if he, himself, recalled that very fight. "But the captor did not fight fairly. One of the Prince's soldiers— one of the few with the gift of writing— wrote his account for the Judgment that followed, and he wrote that the King's good son, his eldest and his heir, was killed by an arrow, shot by some unseen accomplice hidden atop a fearsome rock face. And so the captor won, and he sent the Prince's body back to his father on the back of a wild, untamed horse."

Bella saw, in her mind's eye, another set of bodies, born aloft by beasts to their grieving, young sons…

"And when the King saw what had become of his son and heir, he grew wild," continued Esme. "His only daughter taken and his eldest son slain, he stormed the Stony Shore with all the might and fortitude of the King's Army. He, himself, did not perish in the fray, but he lost another two sons and the daughter he'd set out to save."

"But…" Bella spoke slowly, her mind racing to keep up. Carlisle stopped her with a raised hand.

"The King went mad when the battle was won," said Esme. "The King's soldiers captured the man responsible and brought him back to the Capital as a traitor. Ranting and raving like a wild thing, the King ordered the man hanged, drawn, and quartered. The captor's father, the King's own chief advisor, pleaded— begged his Lordship for mercy— but the King showed none. The boy was killed, and that was the spark that lit the fires of mutiny. The captor's father— his name has been lost to time— fled the capital under the cover of darkness with a gang of supporters who protested the King's cruelty, and they settled in a crude camp on the Island's west end. Since that same night, the mountains have been nearly impassable."

"Impassable?" asked Bella.

"Their numbers have grown," said Carlisle quietly. "They fled with women and children in tow, and those women and children have had more children of their own. They've formed a proper little settlement by now, if the rumours are to be believed. They guard their territory viciously, and have been known to cross down in the dead of night to wreak havoc on the King's subjects."

"But why?" Bella asked, perplexed by the strangeness of this tale. "That was over a hundred years ago, by your own admission… What's the danger now?"

Esme, looking uncharacteristically dark and brooding, barked out a harsh laugh.

"What's the danger?" she asked bitterly, shaking her head. "It's the same danger as before, though now, they are on the move. No longer do they stay in that western hellhole… they're moving inland."

Bella's mouth went dry.

"They've always pillaged and raided along the mountain's edge, ever since the very first generation fled the Island proper. But it's only since the reign of Edward's father that they've grown so brazenly violent. They've never killed until now, but Little Alice's family— the herbalist and his wife and sons— were among the first and most heinous casualties."

"But…" Bella struggled to make sense of it all, "Why? Why kill, or raid, or pillage, when the reason behind the whole thing is over a century old? Why attack innocent people?"

For surely there was no one left living who'd survived the initial fray, and no one left to feel the sting of its losses?

"Why do you think?" asked Esme. Her anger, righteous and formidable, made Bella pause, even though it was not directed at her. "To punish the institution they hold responsible for their own death and suffering. Their supporters and soldiers, killed by their king in the name of freedom. The coveted darling, slain by brutal men weilding wayward swords. And their martyr— the boy who'd dared to love a Princess— killed for love by a cruel and brutal Lord."

"It was hardly love," said Carlisle angrily. "If all accounts are to be believed, the child was not much more than 12 or 13 years old. The advisor's son was a man grown. He claimed the rights of a husband— claimed that their physical binding made him her lord and master— but that girl was a child. It was rape, not love, that bound them together."

Esme fixed him with a suffering stare.

"I know," she sighed, "but she has asked why the fight has endured, and I give her their reasons."

"They are treasonous fools," said Carlisle softly. "A generation of young people steeped in the hatred of a long-distant war, fuelled by lies fed on silver spoons by old and jaded men. They blame Edward for the sins of their own ancestors… blame the monarchy for denying the match between the son and the Princess, and the royal court for allowing a grieving King's madness to thrive. The advisor's son was never given a trial, you see… he was arrested, tried, and sentenced without so much as a whisper from a court or a jury."

This, Bella did understand— she did not know how justice was handled here, but she did know the value and importance of a fair trial. Where she came from, fairness and equity in the justice system had been a valued, and often contested, issue.

"But no matter what they say, the truth of the matter is this," said Esme. "They— by action or concession— took away a girl's right to choose. That Princess, whether she loved that man or not, was a child, and a child held as an unwilling captive in a dank and dirty cave is no man's true wife. They took away her right to choose, and caused so much death in the process. And for that death they blame the King— King Philippo, a grieving father driven mad by the loss of four beloved children, and his successor King Ecbert, an angry younger son who exiled the traitors to the furthest reaches of the kingdom. And now, though the last two monarchs have tried to bridge the gap between us, the Alia's hatred has trickled down through time and space to rest on Edward's shoulders, whose title represents little more than scornful disgust in the eyes of our enemies."

"And so…" Bella spoke slowly, trying to find the right words, "the soldiers in the tower watch for Alia," she concluded. "They watch for… violence?"

"The Alia have grown restless in years of late," said Carlisle gently. "Their system is breaking down. They've got precious little arable land, and only one scant tributary to bring them fresh water. The west has always been a hard and ruthless place to live, and the harder it becomes, the wilder they grow."

Bella bit her lip.

"The soldiers watch for action," concluded Carlisle. "They used to watch for signs— signs of peace, signals for aid, desperate pleas for asylum from worn and weary dissenters— but ever since they sent the slain King Edward and his Queen back on the saddles of their own horses, the soldiers watch for action."

A shiver ran down her spine.

"No longer are we a nation of peace," said Carlisle, and Bella could have sworn that even the birds went silent. "For too long, we've been lenient. Edward's own father, a brave and equitable man, tried his best to make amends, but the West has grown restless. And when our enemies grow restless, disaster is sure to follow."

A cracking branch made Bella jump, and Esme clucked her tongue. The spell was broken. The cold wash of fear that had trickled down Bella's back like an icy dewdrop had evaporated, and though she felt the lingering chill in her spine, the singing of birds in the treetops and the croaking of frogs in the undergrowth brought her back to the present.

"Now look," admonished Esme, shaking her head at Carlisle's dire prediction of doom. "You've scared her." Bella felt Esme's warm fingers twining with her own. "Don't be nervous, dear… we're quite a ways from any danger."

But Bella, staring up at the great, dark canopy, did not feel safe at all. What had seemed like friendly, twisty trees now became copses of espionage, wherein any form or figure might be lurking. The shade of leaves, bright and green as they filtered the sunshine, seemed like perfect shelter for a sharpshooting archer, like the one in Esme's story. The dips and valleys on the jungle floor, thus far unnoticed and innocuous, seemed like perfect hiding places for any manner of man, or beast…

"Come," said Carlisle, looking only a little guilty. "Don't worry yourself unnecessarily. Despite all the rumours, there have never been any Alia in the trees, and even if there were, we'd have heard of their arrival. You'd have never been let out of the Capital had there been any threat of danger."

Bella tried to calm herself.

"But we should be getting on," said Carlisle, glancing carefully through a gap in the leaves overhead. "The sun dips even further, and if we want to make it to the cabin before nightfall, we must continue on. Are you well enough to ride again, Bella?"

Rising to her feet, Bella felt the lingering ache in her legs reigniting like embers in a hearth. She stamped her feet, determined to shake the stiffness away, and though Carlisle grimaced sympathetically at her and shook his head, she dashed for her horse.

"I'll be fine," she said. "Let's keep moving."

The promise of darkness weighed heavily on her, and the threat of Alia made her anxious heart throb.

A/N: Thank you so much for your patience. It's been very much appreciated. Life has been nuts, but things SEEM to be getting back on track (fingers crossed). I hope you enjoyed the chapter.

Let me know what you think.