It took the Hudar four days to lead Alyssa west across the mountain ridge. A brutal snowstorm hit the second night, leaving them huddled in a makeshift shelter of pine trees and leather hides. The Hudar spoke sparingly, and never to Alyssa beyond grunts and shoves, despite her valiant efforts to engage them in conversation. Each attempt was met with a cool stare, though nothing Raven hadn't prepared her for. Alyssa would not be deterred. This far from home, each moment she remained breathing was considered a triumph. The longer she lasted, the greater her chances of survival. The greater her chances of finding Raven.
Since they refused her questions, Alyssa created her own monikers for her stoic captors. Jaws, the man whom she'd buried under a wave of snow, tolerated her the least. Naturally, he received the brunt of her staring, which he dealt with by flashing his teeth. Claws, the other man, took any and every opportunity to draw his sword and wave it at her, thwarted each time by one look from the woman. She ruled, and did so with few words and even less effort. It took three days of persistent eavesdropping, but Alyssa discovered the woman's true name. Amara.
With her wrists bound in chain, Alyssa could only sit atop her gelding while the others led her across the breathtaking scenery of this uncharted land. As they descended the far side of the mountain on the fourth day, the heavy coniferous forest blanketed with snow eventually gave way to vast, flat land as far as the eye could see. And while not warm by Olisgard's standard, these plains were green and dotted with small creatures. Goats and sheep. Thousands of them. Alyssa had never seen so many. Was this the winter grazing lands Raven had been searching for?
The game trail they'd been following ended at the skeletal remains of an old oak tree, so wide that three men arm-to-arm couldn't encircle it. A sigil carved into the trunk caught Alyssa's eye; four lines intertwined. Striking, but meaningless to her.
The Hudar halted their horses beside the tree. "We've arrived," Amara said.
"What?" She startled at the sudden utterance of language. This time of silence had confirmed her severe need for frequent human interaction. But there were no structures up ahead. No buildings or roads. She didn't see a living soul anywhere that wasn't cloven-hooved. Where were the other Hudar? Had they really been decimated by Kenos' men? Her stomach groaned with hunger and panic alike.
Alyssa cleared her throat. "I was under the impression we were going somewhere with people."
Amara tilted her head, those shrewd, dark eyes alight. "What do you see?"
"Goats. Everywhere."
Amara said something to Jaws and Claws, and they burst into a fit of laughter.
She was positive she'd been the topic of their discussion the entirety of the trip, and it really started to wear on her. "Forgive my ignorance, but I fail to see the humor."
"It's the trouble with you Norrians. You see what you expect, not what exists."
Jaws and Claws said something to Amara, then headed off across the plains on their own. Hopefully never to return.
"Where are they going?" Alyssa said.
"To gather the elders."
"Just when I was starting to appreciate their company."
Her odds had improved exponentially, however. Escape seemed an option now with only one captor to contend with. Her horse was well-rested and had fed on the Hudar's rations of grain over the past four days. Garfield had proven his worth time and time again, and she had no doubt he would continue. She could break free and head up the mountain, take the game trail back to the opposite valley. Follow the river south, towards Norr's southern desert, where Raven's kidnappers were headed. What were the chances the fierce Hudar woman would give chase? Could she outrun her?
"Come." Amara nudged her horse forward, leading Alyssa's gelding alongside. As they passed the oak tree, the horizon rippled like the surface of water, a wall of magic that solidified in a sprawling settlement of cloth and pole structures covering half the valley. Goats and sheep grazed on the outskirts, tended by shepherds in familiar blackrobes.
"Sweet Athena." Was this what remained of the Hudar people? It was difficult to judge at a glance, but she guessed upwards of ten thousand. Raven would be thrilled by the sight of so many of her brethren. Alyssa's chest ached. They had been so close. Raven had been so close to returning home.
Amara led them into the heart of the settlement, passing blacksmiths, tanners, butchers, tailors—everything found in the market of Olisgard, but with a simpler, humbled presentation. No ornate or excessive decoration. No haughty nobles strolling with noses turned up. Just people, hard-working and reserved. Two young girls, both dark haired and eyed, balanced on the posts of a stockyard fence, taking turns leaping to the next post. They paused to stare at Alyssa long enough to satisfy their curiosity before returning to their game.
"Athena," Amara said. "Is that your lost companion?"
"No. She's a goddess we honor in Norr." She glanced over her shoulder, towards the mountain in the distance. She was so tired of being cold and hungry. With a functioning society at her fingertips, the thought of another moment on the run made her skin crawl. "Do your people have gods?"
"Yes. And it seems they pitied you. The valley where we found you is normally buried in snow this time of the year." The woman was finally talking.
Alyssa sat up in the saddle and licked her chapped lips. "Why didn't you leave me there to die? Why bring me here? What good will I do your people?"
Amara halted their horses at the entrance of a paddock and dismounted, then gestured for Alyssa to do the same.
"Well?" She swung her leg over the saddle and dropped to the ground. Her legs quivered under her own weight. "You've a reason, I'm sure of it."
A stable hand took the horses and, after a short conversation with Amara, led them into the small pasture. She'd already lost Avarice; watching Garfield plod away heightened her sense of exposure. She knew the location of this hidden settlement, protected by magic. The chances of the Hudar letting her go now were non-existent.
Alyssa shifted her feet, especially cold now. "I'm not leaving this place, am I?"
The woman said nothing.
"I'm dead either way. You should have killed me or left me on the mountain."
"I could not," she said. "The circumstances were too peculiar to overlook."
"Those circumstances being?"
Amara held her gaze. "You're Alyssa Norxis, queen of Norr."
It was as if the very air vanished, leaving her frozen in breathless terror. Not only was she a Norrian held captive in Hudar, but this unsettling woman knew exactly who she was. The ruler responsible for the slaughter of Daskis and his people. Responsible for the pillaging of precious stones at The Spire. Responsible because she had done nothing to stop or change the present outcome.
Her throat had shriveled, making words difficult to voice. "How did . . ."
"We Hudar are dumb, yes? Godless barbarians?" Amara regarded her with the emotional depth of a slab of granite. "Your eyes give you away. The color of sunset in spring. In our culture, you would be zvenya. Touched by the gods. And that, Norrian, is why you still draw breath." She took Alyssa's upper arm, grip firm. "Come with me."
What choice did she have, chained and lost in a foreign land?
Amara pulled her along the busy path as countless Hudar went about their daily lives. It took only a few moments to determine that despite her attire, Alyssa's blonde hair and fuchsia eyes made her stand out amongst the crowd. Every other face bore dark eyes and black or brown hair. Most paused to stare at her with the same feral curiosity as the young girls had.
That attention did little to curb her apprehension. Perhaps she should pull up the hood of her robes. Perhaps she should implode. Wouldn't that surprise them?
Amara parted the material of a large tent and pushed Alyssa into a warm, pleasant space smelling of roasted meat and rosemary. Her mouth instantly watered and stomach howled for food. Real food. Hot food. Low wooden tables scatted the bare earth, occupied by a handful of feasting Hudar. Across the room, cooks prepared food, stirring massive cast iron pots over roaring fires. A tavern, perhaps? Makeshift kitchen? Whatever it was, she couldn't bear to spend another moment inhaling the savory aroma without tasting.
Amara pointed to an empty table. "Sit."
Alyssa sat.
"Don't move."
Where would she go otherwise? She nodded.
Amara headed towards the cooking food.
Alyssa rubbed her wrists, eager to be rid of the shackles. They made her feel beyond helpless, an emotion she had no use for. Her mind raced, calculating the possibilities that awaited her, none of which seemed optimal for her continued existence. By rights, she should have died several times over during this journey, and the fact she hadn't only added to her anguish. Her chains clanked as she worried her hands beneath the table. Touched by the gods. Did that hold any merit? Was it a gift or curse?
A burly, bearded, shirtless man eating at an adjacent table looked over and paused mid-chew. Sweet gods, she'd never seen such a large man, and he studied her the way a fox eyed a hen. Instinct required she meet the implied threat and do so without flinching, despite her absolute desire to vanish into thin air. When she maintained his gaze long enough, he inclined his head, gesturing to her with his chin.
Alyssa returned the gesture, not entirely sure of it's intention. Satisfied, the giant went back to his meal, and she resumed breathing in a regular fashion. That man could rightly crush her skull in one hand.
Amara set a glass on the table in front of Alyssa.
She blinked into a dark red liquid that set her heart thumping. The glass was half-empty before she realized she'd even taken it, guzzling down the sweetest wine she'd ever tasted. Flavored with oak and a sense of normalcy. She didn't care if it were poisoned, so long as she could have another glass before death took her.
Amara sat opposite her and gestured to the giant. "You're somewhat familiar with our ways. He deems you worthy of a seat at the table because of that."
"Ah, well. Dominance spans all cultures." After another swallow of wine, she examined the cup containing it; hand-blown glass of blue and green. Detailed craft of a skilled artisan. "However, I didn't know Hudar made wine, let alone formed glass."
The ghost of a smile graced Amara's lips. "There's much you don't know."
"I'm beginning to see that. Are you za'hava?"
The woman watched her in the growing silence.
"In the valley, you moved from one spot to another in the blink of an eye," Alyssa said. "Like magic. Like one that walks the veil."
A young man set a bowl before Alyssa containing a hearty stew of meat and potatoes and herbs. Her stomach trembled with anticipation. He topped off her wine from a beautiful glass decanter and left.
"Eat," Amara said.
Was this to be her last meal? A kindness before she was presented to the elders as the ultimate enemy and swiftly executed? Slowly tortured?
Negotiating the shackles, she picked up the spoon, tasted a bite and nearly cried with joy. Heavenly didn't properly describe the flavor, and it wasn't because she'd forgone a real meal in weeks. By the fifth spoonful she'd forgotten to breathe, and panted over the bowl like a starving dog before diving back in for more. She was aware of Amara watching her, but couldn't bring herself to care. If she died, so be it, but she would enjoy this stew. Goat with roasted peppers, tomatoes, potatoes, rosemary and wine. Glorious.
The clack of metal on wood drew Alyssa's gaze to a sheathed dagger on the table near her wine. The dagger Raven had given her that first day on the run. Claws had taken it from her in the valley and she assumed she'd never see it again.
Alyssa wiped her mouth on the back of her sleeve and arched a brow.
"Where did you get this blade?" Amara said.
"It was given to me by my companion. Why?"
"It bears a sigil," she pointed to the tooling on the handle, "protecting it's owner from harm."
It also bore the elaborate leather sheath in the likeness of the Temple of Sekhmet. It hadn't taken much deducing on her part to confirm the previous owner as Favir, the cruel priest in charge of Raven.
"I wouldn't put much stock in that sigil. The owner of that blade is dead."
This caught Amara's interest. "Did you kill them?"
"I did not."
"Have you killed?"
Alyssa fiddled with her spoon. How to answer that question? Had people died by her will at the hands of another? Yes. Had her incompetence caused the slaying of countless lives? Yes. Had she, herself, taken a life? "Yes."
Amara tilted her head. "But not with that dagger."
"I willed a tree to fall. It crushed three men."
Her gaze sharpened, but she kept her thoughts to herself. "Finish your meal. The elders are waiting."
O.O.O.O.O
Atop her shaggy pony, Melissah continued her journey south across the Gentle Desert, tagging along with a caravan transporting goods. The hot, dry wind blew relentlessly, cracking her lips and burning her skin, even with her headscarf. She'd never ventured this far south before. The sheer magnitude of nothingness baking in the sun whittled away her confidence. Three more days until she'd reach Kebos, the southern province proper, home to the Citadel and Temple of Sekhmet, and she had no idea what this undertaking would bring.
Alyssa wasn't there. Nor Raven. But instincts honed on the streets of Olisgard knew that of all the things coveted in this world, none compared to information. Santiago had let slip—purposely, of course—that Priestess Khalimat was up to something, aside from having correspondence with a master thief and fence. Melissah's first mission would be to determine the priestess' motivation. As the second most powerful entity in the nation, what more could she desire?
Khalimat held influence over the Citadel, Norr's garrison for the standing army, and that power was not won by military strategy or threat. Sequestered in the middle of the desert, any man or woman would begin to lose hope without a little guidance from the amiable and persuasive Khalimat. Soldiers returning from duty on the Spire mine route would visit the great temple, weary and homesick, and they would be met with food, fine wine, and anything else they desired, be it a willing man or woman. Both, if the mood called for it. Melissah had already ascertained these things without ever having set foot in the temple. The traders of the caravan possessed loose lips once the wine was passed around. But after four days of their drunken foolishness, Melissah was eager to be rid of them.
She adjusted the shoulder bag containing the queen's package and looked to the west. Spire Mountain dominated the horizon, intimidating even at distance. Most of Norr's soldiers were stationed on the route stretching from the mountain to the Citadel, which seemed a sloppy move. An invading northern army could cross the Targantis mountain range in two easy days and would find Olisgard minimally guarded and ripe for the taking. Kenos must truly believe the Hudar were defeated beyond retaliation to be so bold. So brash. So stupid.
She'd never been beyond the boundaries of Norr. She'd seen maps, of course, but how accurate were they? No one really knew the Hudar lands or where they stayed. No one knew their motivations or desires. All Norrains knew was the value of the precious metals and stones at the Spire. They knew the hollow hunger of greed. And soon enough, Melissah would find out what else the people of the southern province knew.
She'd find everything out, of that she was certain.
O.O.O.O.O
The Hudar elders consisted of six men and five women, convened in the middle of a grassy field, sat on logs around a roaring fire. Unremarkable in appearance and dress, they could have been anyone from the settlement. One empty seat amongst them drew Alyssa's attention. Someone was missing. Likely someone of importance, slain by Norrian hands.
Amara pointed to the ground before the fire. "Kneel."
The command stung like a blade in Alyssa's side, but she did so without argument. Only a fool would pick a fight with this audience. Then again, she'd done many foolish things as of late. Amara remained behind her, out of reach but within the periphery. Wetness from the grass seeped through the knees of her trousers. The wind blew through the field, tormenting the flames and sending hot ash into the air.
One elder sat forward on her stump, a silver-haired woman well past middle age who regarded Alyssa with a dark, stern gaze. "You are the queen of Norr," she said in near perfect Norrian.
Alyssa cleared her throat. "I am." Did all Hudar speak Norrian? Why hadn't she bothered to learn Hudar? Regardless, she was thankful to be able to communicate with them. For whatever good it did.
"Why were you within our lands?"
"I was travelling with my companion."
"Travelling where?"
"Here, I presume. Raven was searching for the wintering grounds. She's Hudar."
The elders murmured amongst themselves in low, indistinguishable sounds. The silver-haired woman continued. "Why was the queen of Norr riding across the wilds with a Hudar companion?"
Her initial response of the queen does as she pleases didn't seem prudent. She inhaled slowly and scanned the elder's faces. Of all the terrifying things she'd faced on this journey, dealing in civil conversation was a relief. This was something she excelled in. "We were fleeing Norr together. We made it out of the mountain tunnel leading from Torc Waterfall to the forested valley beyond this one. But we were ambushed by Norrians and she was captured. They left me for dead. When I awoke I followed their trail to the river, where I was graciously welcomed by your people."
Of all the questions that speech could elicit, the silver-haired woman asked, "Why were you fleeing Norr?"
It took her a moment to find the right words. Her wrists throbbed in the shackles, but nothing in comparison to the ache in her chest. "Raven was stolen from your desert as a small child and raised in Norr. She's skilled in magic, and was forced by the king to divulge information about your people's movements through the mountains. She foresaw Daskis' location and the king sent a battalion to ambush him. I don't know how many died, but it wasn't her choice. She been a slave her whole life. Been through awful things. But she escaped from Olisgard and I . . . I wanted to help her. I wanted to run away with her. So I did. The kingdom believes she kidnapped me. They've chased us for weeks. Raven obliterated a mountainside to keep us safe. Now she's captured and on her way back to Norr. The king will kill her, I'm sure of it."
The elders regarded her with a collectively perplexed expression. "Daskis?" the silver-haired woman said.
"Yes, your ruler," Alyssa said. The blank stares continued. "He wore a headdress hewn from a wolf skull? Rode a large grey horse that breathed fire?" She looked to Amara. "Do they not understand what I'm saying? Daskis, ruler of the Hudar."
"We have this council, not a ruler." Amara slowly shook her head. "There is no such person by that name or similar."
"What?" Surely this was a game. A test of her mental fortitude. "Whose skull helm now hangs on the wall in Olisgard? Who did the Norrian's slaughter in the Targantis mountains, at the Yvelt pass?"
"We don't travel that far east in the mountains," an older, male elder said. "I don't know what stories your people conjure, but Norrians have only killed a handful of Hudar, and they were all south, near the Spire."
Daskis didn't exist? Did the soldiers lie? And if . . . if Raven could foresee events, how did she see Daskis in the mountain pass, if he wasn't real? Who did she see? What madness was this twisted tale becoming?
"But . . ." She gestured to the empty stump between the elders. "Whose seat is that, then?"
"Mine," Amara said.
Alyssa stared into the fire while her brain crackled like hot coals. The name Daskis had been around since she was a child. His ferocious tales of terror had circulated the last twenty years. But the very people he supposedly ruled had never heard of him. Meaning Raven didn't betray her people. Meaning Kenos didn't conquer the Hudar. Meaning this whole ordeal was fabricated—but by whom? And to what end?
Someone had seeded lies for years. Someone with unchecked power and no one to answer to. Someone playing a god.
"You made the earth move like water," the silver-haired woman said, jerking Alyssa from her scrambling thoughts. "You claimed to have willed a tree to fall. You fled your lands and people with a Hudar companion. You wear our clothes, spoke of sira kavi and za'hava. These facts are true, yes?"
"Yes," she said, unsure where this headed. Likely in an unfortunate direction. "Please, I mean you no harm or ill will. I just want to find Raven. I have to find her before she gets to Olisgard. She's running out of time. Please, let me go."
Amara said something to the others in Hudar, which stirred a rapid dialogue between four elders, none of which appeared pleased. The arguing grew heated, with raised voices and curt gestures, most of which directed at Alyssa.
"Do none of you care that one of your own people—a child—was taken?" Alyssa snapped, earning a moment of quiet. "Surely you remember her. Fifteen years ago. She was five or six at the time. Somewhere in the desert, near Kebos. Kidnapped by Norrian soldiers."
The silence stretched, filled with the crackling fire and smothering tension. None of the elders would look at her.
Alyssa turned towards Amara, searching for answers. "You know her, don't you?"
"If what you say is true, yes, I know of whom you speak." Her hard expression began to crumble at the edges. "Her mother was killed and the child taken."
Alyssa's heart clenched. Raven had never spoken of her parents, and she assumed them dead. But hearing it did not come easily. "What of her father? Is he alive?"
One of the elders barked something in Hudar and spit into the fire.
"We don't speak his name," Amara said. "The child was zvenya, but not in a fortunate way. When the soldiers attacked and the mother was slain, we did not pursue the child."
The task of wrapping her mind around these revelations grew increasingly difficult. "You didn't pursue? For the love of the gods, why not? Why didn't her father?"
"I don't believe he knows. Nor cares. He dwells beyond the veil and we prefer he remains there."
Alyssa took a breath to speak and paused. Dwells beyond the veil. Zvenya, but not in a fortunate way. Such tip-toing around a troubling notion. "He's . . . a god?"
"Demon," the silver-haired woman said. "And he is not welcome here."
A fire burned beneath her skin like none before. Alyssa lurched to her feet. "And the child you forsook? Was she not welcome? Is that why you let strangers take her away?" Amara snatched her arm before she took a step towards the elders. "They beat her. Starved her. Locked her away in the dark. My people are godless barbarians, and you let them take her!"
The elders murmured amongst themselves while she stood there trembling, sides heaving with each breath. She'd never loved as fiercely as she loved Raven, and each moment apart drove her mad. With grief. With rage. With hunger for vengeance.
Amara jerked her close, hands fisted in the neck of her robes, forcing Alyssa to her toes.
"And who are you to judge, your grace? Do you know how many of our children are stolen and enslaved in your peaceful nation? You outnumber our people thirty-to-one. We can't storm into your lands and take back what's ours. We can scarcely keep your people away! Now you've pillaged the ore and stone deposits at the Spire—" She shook Alyssa, hard. "What do you plan to take next? Our livestock? Timber? The clothes off our backs?"
The chill that overtook her had nothing to do with the winter wind. Nor the robes cutting into her throat. Nor the possibility of death. How could she be so bloody stupid—selfish—weak to let her kingdom commit such atrocities? Why had she let Kenos, when all she needed to change his mind was a simple conversation? Why did she only realize this horror now, when personally invested? What a shit queen she'd been. What a terrible companion. What an awful creature.
"You can," Alyssa said.
Amara blinked. "What?"
"You can take back what's yours."
Her grip eased from her throat, but the anger in Amara's gaze remained. "How?"
"Someone rules that kingdom, and it's not the king or queen. Kenos is blind to it. His army is spread thin. The people are self-absorbed and gutless. Norr is ripe to be conquered."
"You've the mind and tongue of a sovereign," the silver-haired woman said. "A wolf guarding sheep. What tales you spin, I wonder."
"I'm guilty of many things, and I understand your outrage. I would kill me, were our places reversed. I would kill me publically. Slowly. For all to see. I would send pieces of me back to Olisgard, wrapped in pretty little packages. And were our places reversed, I would not stand by and let Raven be taken again. I would not let her die. Not after everything she's overcome, and certainly not at the hands of Norrians."
The wind howled through the field. Amara's gaze bore into her like an avalanche.
Alyssa lifted her chin and stared right back. "I will give you Olisgard. Kebos. Northgate. I will give you Norr, should you desire. Help me free Raven and I will burn that wretched kingdom to the ground."