Glad to see people enjoying Samn's perspective! The second of the first Samn chapters!
Chapter 4 - Samn
I'm falling.
Straight out of the castle.
I plummet through the branches. They dissipate like mist as I punch through them.
I crash to the ground, but it doesn't stop there. I keep falling.
Down. Down. Down.
Ravne's words echo around the hall.
Every like perfectly silent, hanging in beautiful balance, like a wave towering at the top of its peak…
Then it crests, and the peace smashes like a mirror falling to the ground.
The hall erupts into panic. The queen yells futilely above the bedlam. But I only stand there. Removed from it all as I fall.
Then I'm really falling, and my stomach is like an arrow shot from a bow. My body falls to the ground with a thump and I know no more.
…
"Is he going to be alright? Let me see him! I need to see him!" My mother's panicked voice is the first thing I hear. It's rough, choked, like she has been crying for a long time. She stumbles over the 'him's, too distressed to keep a hold of the pronoun.
"Lady Faise, the best thing for him right now is to stay calm," I hear the healer tell her softly.
"Calm be damned!" my mother snarls. "My husband is dead and my child fainted. Let. Me. See. Her."
I blink my eyes open to take in harsh, flickering light of the sun and torches. My mother's shout is met with silence from Spottalia, then footsteps, then my mother leans over me. I flinch away from the sudden sight of her looming face, but I relax and look up at her frightened eyes.
"Samn, oh Samn, what are we going to do?" she murmurs, sounding like she could burst into tears at any second.
"Mum," my voice scratches out. It sounds far away. "Mum. We'll be okay."
But the words are hollow. Dad. His smiling face reappears. His rough, calloused hand reaches out to steady me as I take my first steps. Unbidden, tears are pooling in my eyes. There's not much space, and they're jostling around, and then they're spilling down my cheeks.
My mother wraps her arms around me like I'm a lifeboat in the middle of a raging sea. I know my tears are just making her more upset.
Everything's upside down, wrong. I'm comforting Mum. Dad's nowhere. I want to fall asleep again, but something pulsing behind my eyes. It hurts… but then the dark tide rises again and I fall back against the pillows.
…
I reawaken to the castle doors being opened.
Now what? Is it Mum dead? Is Duss dead? I wonder hollowly. Tears are crusted on my cheeks. My mouth is dry.
The light is briefly blocked out as Spottalia moves around the room.
"Just relax, Samn, we'll see what this is about," she reassures me.
My hands itch to punch something. The healer's voice irritates me. Really, a lot about her irritates me. She's everything I've got to make sure I'm not, I tell myself silently. But she's a good healer. Just focus on that.
I can't help wanting to yell at her. It's easier to focus on my dislike than my father's death… and Spottalia… well, she ticks me off.
The soft-voiced healer in question hurries out of the room and I try to regulate my breathing like Brindellia showed me. It's mostly to concentrate life-force, but it works for relaxing as well.
In, two, three, four, five, out, two, three, four, five. A familiar feeling of warmth shifts across my skin, like sand falling out from some otherworldly hourglass onto me. I breathe deeply, closing my eyes, and then I feel it.
The fifth dimension floods over me, bringing tang so sharp I can barely breathe. The herbs, I realize. While in the normal dimensions, herbs are simply little plants, when I shift, they slam their healing juice powers into my face.
My eyes water and my nose stings, but the feeling of burrowing down into a tunnel of sand is calming. It's warm, like it's been heated by a desert sun. The herbs fade from my awareness, but then my concentration shatters as the door of the healer's wing is thrown open. My head throbs in response, and I wince.
"Quick, lay him on the bed, Sir Cawle," Spottalia says, sounding on the verge of panic. "He'll be alright, but I need to get a look at him. Bring in Sir Tayle's—Sir Tayle as well."
Redde Tayle? Father? Is he still alive? Hope flares in my chest and I'm breathless, waiting for Spottalia's next words.
"I have to prepare him for the funeral," she says, her voice somber and heavy.
The hope rushes out of me. My eyes are stinging again. Tears spill down my cheeks and I muffle my whimper in a mouthful of cotton blanket.
I feel like a child, wanting to burrow in my mother's skirts and stay there. Funeral. The word is hollow, ringing, echoing, empty. It means dark faces and sympathy that doesn't help. My dad's body on a marble slab. Kneeling on the ground until my knees cramp and I'm out of tears.
A fresh wave of sobs is shaking me. Father's face is fading away, never to be seen again. Why? Why? Blessed Starlaxi, why?
My heart aches. My head aches.
But before I can dive back into the ocean of sleep, Spottalia reaches me.
"I know this has been a horrible shock for you," she says comfortingly. I clench my hands into fists. "Here are some herbs that will make you feel better."
She waves her hand over them, and they glow electric green for a moment.
Her life-force... I remember it suddenly. Potency. Useful. If all you do is heal…
I take the herbs silently, crumpling them and putting the knotted ball of plants into my mouth. I try to avoid chewing too much; the taste is sharp. She offers me a glass of water, but I swallow hard and roll back over.
Instantly, heady calm settles across me, like a dragon has sat on me. I breathe deeply, but I'm already going numb.
Maybe I should be alarmed that I'm suddenly getting no messages from any part of my body, but it's nice not to feel. And with that not-feeling comes my resolve. I won't let them see me cry.
…
When I wake up again, something in me has changed. And I know it's changed because I don't feel the springing energy and enthusiasm for the new day, just a sucking attachment to my bed. My bed.
Spottalia must have moved me back to the squire's wing. The fact manages to annoy me somehow; how am I supposed to hate her and all her tiptoeing mannerisms when she's so damn nice all the time?
My head falls back against the pillow and a dull throb starts up again. Relax… let the energy flow through you. Whit's instructions for reaching the Trace return to me and I slow my breathing.
The world ripples beneath my closed eyelids and I know I'm there again. It's different somehow. It doesn't hurt my head to reach into it. Even if it's not as natural as Sir Strommer's always promising it will be, the little breakthrough gives me a tiny shot of victory.
The sweet success is suddenly drowned out by a sharp feeling. God! My hand shoots to the dagger beside my bed when I realize that it's not a god, but the god-toy that arrived last night. Last night. My head throbs again and I burrow deeper into the fifth dimension.
"Samn!" It's Duss. "Samn, wake up! The queen's calling a meeting of the court!"
I snap out of the balanced pseudo-reality with a jerk and I find myself staring into the sharp brown eyes of my surly best friend. "Shit! Why didn't you wake me earlier?"
He blinks at my sudden cuss, but shrugs it off. "Sorry, but I didn't want to get gutted, you psycho." He jerks his hand at my dagger.
I relent. "Fine. But let's go!"
We're still making eye-contact three seconds later when Duss finally clues in and flushes. "Oh—oh right, I'm—" And he darts out.
Finally alone for a moment. I breathe out heavily, feeling my eyes and nose sting in a way that's all too familiar. No.
Before my tears even have a chance to gather on my blonde lashes, I thrust off the quilted covers of my bed and slam my feet down on the warmth-sucking stone. Welcoming the chill it brings, I breathe out shakily. The storm inside me calms a little bit.
I dress quickly, stripping off my sleep-clothes and replacing it with the familiar Thundria tunic. Putting on each boot, rolling up both sleeves, brushing tears from each eye. My new routine.
"Members of the court of Thundria, gather to hear my words!" Queen Bluelianna's voice echoes through the castle and I rake a comb through my strawberry blonde hair a couple times. The boy in the mirror scowls at me. I leave him to be angry alone and dash into the great hall.
A fresh knife to my chest as I see my father's body raised on the marble platform. I couldn't even stand vigil. Too weak.
But there's no time for my failures—there are more important matters at hand.
"As you all know, last night brought many sorrows from the battle with Rivier." The queen's voice is somber. "Our beloved captain of the guard has fallen to the hand of Rivier's captain, Oeak Hahrte." Her voice cracks strangely on his name, but she picks back up after a beat of silence. "Sir Cawle avenged Sir Tayle, striking down—Oeak Hahrte." And again, the sort of odd, strangled tone.
The court murmurs amongst themselves, but I just need the queen to continue. Something to focus on. Eventually the torrent of whispers ceased and the queen continues, eyes glittering icily.
"This leaves problems twofold and a hole in our lives that will never be mended. The first, Thundria has no captain. And second, one of our squires, Duss, is mentorless. First, I extend the honour of training young Duss to Darriek Styrp. And secondly, the new captain will be…"
Her eyes rove over the assembled court, to land on… not Tigre Cawle, much to his obvious irritation. Liyon Hartef.
"Liyon Hartef. I would be honoured to stand alongside you as the leaders of Thundria," she said softly, her eyes misty.
The golden knight's eyes widen, but he drops to his knee and dips his head. "For you, anything, my Queen."
I exhale. Not Sir Strommer, I note with disappointment, then guilt swamps me for even considering replacing my father. I hope Sir Hartef does well, but my father… My nose is stinging again. Stop it.
"Thank you. Would Sir Tigre Cawle, Samn, and Lady Brindellia Faise please report to the healer's wing?" The queen steps down from her throne and sweeps towards Liyon. I notice that she's wearing a uniform and not ceremonial dress.
Me? What for? But she's deep in conversation with the new captain, so I turn my steps towards Spottalia Lief's wing.
My mother makes it before me, but I don't miss her wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. Apparently seeing Father's body wasn't any easier for her.
Hearing a step behind me, I sneak a surreptitious glance behind and see the burly warrior that was obviously hoping to be named my father's successor. His amber eyes are piercing in the darkness, but he's focused ahead.
I turn my attention back to the hallway and suddenly the carpeted stone opens to the soft, greenhouse lighting of the healer's wing. Too many of the beds are full. The closest to the door is the one Tigre stops at. Ravne, of course, his squire.
"Rav," I whisper, brushing the black and white hair that fell over his shut eyes. "Get better soon."
I look up, and Tigre's eyes flit away from mine to focus on his apprentice, but I could feel him staring at me, unmistakably. Something about him gives me the creeps.
"Samn?" Spottalia's breathy voice alerts me to her presence. "Right this way please, I'd like to speak with you and your mother in private."
I nod heavily, glancing down once more to see Ravne's face screw up in pain then soften into youthful innocence. He looks like an inky Ser, almost angelic with his hair splayed out around him on the white healer bed. White wings spreading out beneath him wouldn't look out of place at all. I wonder if Sers had to always sleep on their front. Did they sleep? I'll check a history textbook later. What a stupid thought.
"Brindellia, and Samn of course, I just wanted to say," Spottalia begins, but breaks off for a moment. "Hear me out. I believe… I believe it may be time for Samn to reveal the truth. I don't think this undue stress-"
"No," I snap immediately.
"Samn!" My mother reprimands me.
"No! I won't hear you out. I'm not telling anyone." It's unthinkable. To tell everyone I was a girl? Never. Duss would probably never speak to me again. I don't know if Sir Strommer would even train me after that. The queen might reassign me to a lady that would keep me in the kitchen, learning the same four stews over and over again until my hands wear down to bones. "It would ruin everything!"
Spottalia falls silent, and gathers handfuls of her skirts in her fists before continuing with a deep breath. "I figured you might say that, but Samnath—"
"No!" I don't care if I'm acting like a petulant child. She won't take the one thing I have away from me. "You would disobey the queen? She's the one you should discuss this with. I'm not telling anyone! Not until I'm made a knight! A real knight." Not the empty title given to the ladies of the court. The unspoken words don't need a voice to ring true in all three of our heads.
My mother gives me a reprimanding look, but I don't care what she thinks.
"I'm not!"
And with that, I storm out of the healing wing, straight past Sir Cawle and Ravne.
Only to bang into a certain brightly haired new squire.
"Watch it, god-toy," I hiss, shoving him aside. The venomous words are out before I even have a chance to consider them, but they feel instinctively right. Why should he be offered all the chances in the world, when just because I'm a girl, I get nothing?!
The only thing I see in the dark corridor is a flash of shocked emerald eyes and then he's past me and into the healer's wing.
"I'm sorry about your father," Graie mumbles as he darts past me too.
It's like a fresh spear to the chest, but I force the thoughts away and find myself slipping to the side of the door so anyone exiting won't crash into me. Eavesdropping.
"What's wrong with him?" It's the new boy. He sounds a little hurt and defensive. Good.
"That's Samn. Sir Tayle's only son. It can't be easy for him," Graie says, sounding more sympathetic and serious than I've ever heard him.
The words make me curl my fists. What does he know about loss? What does he know about hurting?
"Oh." The new boy has the grace to sound chastened. "That's… pretty awful."
"Anything I can help you with?" Spottalia's breathy voice, of course. "Checking in on your friend?"
There's a little oof like someone being elbowed in the ribs, then a cough, then Fiyr's nervous voice says, "Oh—um, yes. Yeah, we're here to see Ravanee."
Ravanee? I sneer in my head, my teeth grinding. He's never even met him. He should get lost. He should go back to the gods.
Spottalia starts up again, and I can't take it anymore. I dash down the corridor, not caring if they heard my footsteps. Let them hear it.
I make it back to the great hall in time to see the last of the red sunset slip out of sight. With a heavy sigh, I retreat back to the squire's wing. I know I'm not sleeping tonight.
"Samn?" Duss's voice greets me. He's already changed for bed; his spiky hair is endearingly ruffled.
"Yeah." The word falls between us, and it finally all catches up with me. Tears are in serious danger of streaming down my cheeks, but I manage, "I'm not sleeping with some god-toy," before I dive back into my room so Duss doesn't see my tears.
Thanks for reading chapter 4! Please follow and favourite this story and leave me a review with what you think!
~Akila
