Fox's Novel: A QUEEN'S LEGACY

*Valeriya* · 07-06-2014, 01:03 PM

Chapter One: Within the Wall

The sun perched gracelessly atop the Wall. It seemed to shimmer and gutter in the early autumn heat. Last night's rain fled upwards from the cobbles and gutters under it's watchful gaze, filling the air with muggy leavings. Despite this, the streets were lively. People bustled about on business of every sort, pulling carts and pushing half-wagons. Above us all banners hung limp and lifeless from awnings and overhangs, giving the cries of the peddlers full eminence and adding specks of color amongst the brown and grey. The smell of spices and roasting meat and manure added a unique vibrancy you couldn't find anywhere else in the city.

We were nearly finished with our guard duty. Odd as it was to have drawn a shift with Day Guard, neither Cedany nor I were complaining. There was a saying among Lord Arin's rushers that where the sun bred peace, and the moon bred chaos. Surrounded by the heat of the day, tempers soared, but men waited until the cool of the night to right any wrongs. Sunlight hours were a time for business, and so it was that we patrolled the market spaces, keeping our eyes sharp for pickpockets, thieves, or con men. As it was, we'd found one man passing fake silver and reprimanded three younglings for diving into coffers they had no claim to. I turned to look over my shoulder, seeking out my watch partner. She still bore the black eye she'd earned in a brawl two nights ago on Cartmans Street, and under my worn leather braces I hid a bandaged slash from an errant blade. Three others in the Night Guard were in the infirmary for broken bones, and one for a head wound that everyone suspected he'd die from. Yes, Day Guard was a pleasant change from months prowling the alleys by night.

The moment the sun was out of sight we would be clear to report back to the courtyard for muster. I knew that at this very moment our friends in the Night Guard would be milling about, joking and teasing and wondering what the night would hold. It had been a hot, miserable day, and I sent out a quiet prayer of thanks that my sister and I had been spared. Cedany was a pretty thing, spared so far the broken noses and mismatched cheekbones of the veteran rushers. I had not been so lucky, and would carry the scar on my right eyebrow and cheek for the rest of my days. Still, all things considered, it was better than starving.

“Aye there lasses,” a voice said, breaking into my thoughts. He harbored the heavy brogue of the city slums. He eyed our silver and blue undershirts with a careful eye, smiling. “Either 'o you lookin' to buy a bauble or trinket? Got's me a fair beautiful-”

“Not interested,” Cedany broke him off. “We're on duty, lad.”

The man puffed up, face taking on a tint of red. “Now, don't you scorn me, high-classy-lassy, I'll 'ave you know 'ese bits and pieces is-”

Cedany loosened her sword, lifting it only an inch and letting it fall back down into it's sheath. The soft click it made was enough to halt the man's speech. I guessed the man had assumed we were fresh out of the academy, soft and sweet as peaches, ripe to picked.

“Now you listen here, ye brute,” Cedany said, slipping into poor man's cant to catch his ears. We may have been taught better since, but it was hard to forget slum blood. “I'll be havin' none of your tricks here! I ent no poor lass withou' a bit of sense between my ears. Con me outta me eatin' money, will ye? Git outta me face afore I stick this sword so far up yer bum yer tongue turns ta steel!”

If he had pegged us wrong before, he had our true measure now. The familiars at the market, the sort with permanent stalls or them as set up here every day, watched us with gaping mouths. I was certain they'd spent a fair amount of time snickering and cracking jokes at our expense, as folk well familiar with one another were wont to do.

The man looked from Cedany to me, face pale, and I raised my brows. “T'wer it me in yer place,” I whispered, “I'd do as she says.”

He backpedaled and disappeared amongst the crowd.

We'd only hired on as Lord Arin's rushers two years past, but it made us more senior than most young folk in his service. Almost all under two and a half decades or so washed out in training or were killed flat out of the gates. Granted, most of the latter were soft bred golden babes, joining up to seek glory and adventure. Them who've been fed their whole lives and never really worked for much don't come into it knowing what they're up against. Personally I'd rather have been born into wealth, but this was the life the gods gave me this go around, so I suppose what's done is done.

We walked only a while longer, canvasing the South Market, stopping now and then to check if folk were passing true currency or had their trade papers. Every so often we'd find some fool trying to peddle this or that without Lord Arin's seal, and those were the worst to put in chains. His taxes were hard, and almost all you could earn went back into keeping your rights to sell. Most folk still figured it was better than begging, but there were always the unlucky exceptions. For all those we hauled in for selling under the law, we took as many parents who'd maimed a child to set out begging. Poor folk found coin hiding in the strangest of places. Cedany joked occasionally that the streets have gotten fair passable now that the temples pay to have them cleaned, and that it was a sad state when folk had to shovel their neighbor's scum to feed their babes.

As the market place fell into shadow, I let out a sigh. Time to head in. We made our way through the streets, climbing upwards ever so steadily, to the castle that sat atop the center hill. It was a grand, dark building. Folk said it had sat atop Griffen Hill for longer than man had even existed, that the godsfolk had built it and the Wall too, with ancient magics. It certainly looked that old, but as to old magic I had no idea. It seemed strange to me that mages, even the reincarnated ones, mightn't be able to use a spell after a certain time. Even at the city's highest point the Wall's dark stone stretched above our head, if only by a few dozen feet, by my best guess. At the gates it was an indomitable source of awe, and fear. At then end of the day though, as long as it kept the creatures out, I was content.

The closer were grew to the city center, the greener things became. For every sloped, tiled roof there was a flat one with plants and grasses growing atop it. Water barrels sat at the street corners, and here the peddlers sold fruits and vegetables instead of greasy meats. The streets were free of urchins and beggars and dead animals, and for every bit of pig and goat manure there was horse manure too. Horses were a great luxury to keep in the city, and only the families with old gold and ties to farms could afford to keep them. I'd only ever seen a horse three times, and was grateful for it. Dogs and chickens and small creatures I could handle, but the size of a noble's mount reminded me too much of the stories I'd heard as a child, of the beasts that used to ravage mankind.

We came to the courtyard at last and found that we were near about the last pair to arrive. It was well known that Lord Arin's master of coin didn't like to leave the castle grounds more often than he had to, so we always waited until the last of us returned before giving our reports. If they were late, we assumed death. If they were simply lollygagging, they didn't get last night's pay. I led Cedany over to the nearest wall, planning to lounge until the call went out, and to enjoy the clean scent of the upper city. Most of the folk that surrounded us, maybe twenty groups in all, were unfamiliar, and I had no real desire to socialize until a familiar trio caught my eye.

I nudged Cedany and began making my way forwards. One woman, short of stature and sharp of feature, stood between two very large men. Where her hair was clipped short around the ears, both of the men sported ponytails and long beards. They were identical, wore themselves the same for no reason other than to confuse people. It had been quite some time before Cedany and I had learned to tell them apart.

“They put you in Day Guard too?” I called out by way of greeting.

The woman turned and while a smile graced her lips, her eyes held suspicion. “Aranya, Cedany. I'd say I'm happy to see you, but it'd be a lie.”

Cedany scoffed and crossed her arms, taking offense into her aura.

Loriah held up her hands, trying to placate the girl, and her smile turned sheepish. “Sorry, that came out wrong. I meant I think there's dark mischief about, is all, and I'd rather you be left out of it.”

I raised a brow. All day I'd been considering it a fluke of sorts, but if Loriah thought otherwise it was worth pause. A cold stone settled in my gut. “Oh?”

The man on her right, Willem, sighed. “It's the groups pulled. Have you seen the others?”

I shook my head. I hadn't seen anyone else from Night Guard until now. Loriah and the Dunsford brothers were one of the best pairs, and if I had to admit, it seemed like folly to pull them off the streets on a day like today. Cale, Willem's brother, raised a hand and began ticking off names on his fingers. “There's us and you two, of course, but we also saw Pigeon's group and Natyre's. It doesn't make sense.”

I frowned. He had a point, each group named had a reputation among Night Guard. In the end I only shrugged.

Cedany said, “I agree with Aranya. It's not for me to question Lord Arin. So long as I get paid, I don't care what he does with us.” She shrugged as well.

Just then, Pigeon's group of three and Natyre's came into the courtyard. They seemed deep in conversation, troubled, and froze when they saw us clustered together. With universal frowns they made their way towards us. I looked around and saw the rest of Day Guard eyeing us with a degree of speculation. They seemed as caught off guard as we were.

Pigeon was a strange woman, but still one who's company I enjoyed. She had a way of letting other's thoughts and opinions of her roll off like rain on a wing. I could not recall her real name, because I'd only ever heard her hailed as Pigeon. As the story went, on her first day of training she had boasted that, growing up on the streets, she learned how to coo like a pigeon to draw the birds in. Apparently they made for good eating, but few others seemed to have aquired the taste. The young girl had seemed so proud that she didn't understand or even notice the senior's jokes and jibes. They had named her Pigeon to make a fool of her, but in the end it had stuck. Now she was five years into the service and highly regarded to boot.

She had dark hair and grey eyes that flashed with worry. She spoke first, as our groups merged, in a low tone. “Well, ain't this a surprise. I don't suppose any of you know the meaning of this?”

Cale grimaced and shook his head. “We were just chewing that bit 'o gristle ourselves.”

Apparently Pigeon and Natyre's groups had been the last out, because before either could speak up the castle bell tolled. Our watch was officially over. We sighed and turned to the gates, watching as a small man and several soldiers emerged from the castle close. A long path separated the castle walls and the iron gates that kept us from them, and few bore the patience to cope with this. The master of coin, a sleezy man known to us only as Verenthon, seemed to take his time every single shift.

“Mayhaps he wouldn't be so sour if he'd only hire apprentices to handle the later musters,” Pigeon muttered under her breath.

Cenday grinned and said, “Heaven forbid there be someone our Lord might replace him with.”

Verenthon called out the first pair, a regular on the Day Guard, handing one a small pouch of coin. It was up to us to decide how it ought be split, which was why we were allowed to choose our own walking partners, less it come to blood. One after another was called up, until it became evident us Night Guards would be saved for last. Each group called forth, each that left before us, made us more and more sullen. Finally the last of the Day Watch had fled until no one else remained.

Verenthon did a strange thing. Instead of calling a pair forth, he took a step back and craned his small, balding head over a shoulder, glancing back towards the castle. We waved, beckoning to someone I couldn't see. I made no sense of the situation, and turned to Loriah in a certain sort of panic. She had been Cedany and I's training master. We had walked our first rounds with her and the Dunsfords, and even now that we had a beat of our own her opinions of such held weight.

She only sighed, and said, “And here it comes. Well, lads and lasses, we'd best face our fate.”

She was the most senior among us, having been working the streets of Callais for fifteen years. To a guard, that was ancient. Criminals knew the shape of her boot prints, knew her favorite places to eat, the routes she might be likely to walk, and avoided them. When she stepped forward, the rest of us followed, whether we wished it or not. Halfway to the gate a man in robes began making his way down from the castle, a pile of scrolls in his arms. My gut turned to water and I felt my knees wobble as I walked, the cold stone in my gut turning to lead. I looked to Cedany, and found her normally pale skin now akin to milk. One of Natyre's girls, Ellewyn Hallis, shoved her hands into the pockets of her breaches and I wagered it was to hide their shaking.

At the gate the soldiers halted us without a word, only moving a hand from their belt to hilt of the sword that swung at each hip. Verenthon said nothing, only eyed us, level as could be. By the time the man in robes reached us an uneasy silence had turned the air to mud, and I found breathing more difficult than it should have been. His clothes were fine velvet, embroidered with thread-of-gold and silver. His hands shone with rings, and he wore a strange pendulum about his neck. As to his features, he had a kind set to his face, but his eyes were a hard green. He did not look like he was vexed with us, but I had never seen him before and was too nervous to take his measure.

When he spoke, he addressed us all. “Lord Arin requests your talents in a certain business of great importance. Do you all know your letters?”

Only Hallis, Natyre, and Pigeon did not. For those of us that did, he passed out scrolls and sticks of charcoal, and bid us write our names under a bit of text. The writing swirled on the page in an elegant hand, and I wondered absently what manner of scholar had drawn it up. I peaked at Cedany's and saw hers to be much the same as mine, word for word.

“The form bids you state your loyalty to Lord Arin, that should you disobey his will you forfeit service the the guard and any right to work within the city henceforth.”

I was shocked, as if a fist had slammed itself into my belly. I froze, hand shaking so badly that even if I'd wanted to sign I would not have been able. Why did he ask this of us?

A sharp elbow caught my ribs and I bit my tongue to keep from yelping. Loriah stood beside me, glaring up at me with sharp eyes. She would say nothing, but the look spoke volumes. Sign, fool. I unrolled my paper and scrawled 'Aranya Eloise' at the bottom without reading whatever it was I passed away. It seemed we had precious few rights as is, but I would not dwell on it. The others we scrawling their names, or in the three illiterate's cases marking an X, so I did the same. The man in robes showed no satisfaction until we handed our parchment back, and he had accounted for each and every one of us.

“Welcome, friends!” He may have titled us so, but I was not so quick to believe. His hard eyes had turned warm. “I am Mage Neluin, come to bring you forth into Lord Arin's audience. Come.” He waved two fingers and turned, clearly expecting us to follow. Verenthon walked at his side, chin up and back un-hunched, while the soldiers parted. Loriah once more led us forth, her shoulders set in confidence I wondered if she truly possessed. The soldiers walked at our side, perhaps to escort, perhaps to guard.

My mind had latched onto the man's name. Mage Neluin? Not the one the men whispered about in taverns, not Lord Arin's personal mage. There were maybe a dozen trained mages in the city now, perhaps it was just a common calling among magefolk. They said Lord Arin's mage could turn bronze to gold, grow crops in sand and salt, and even bring folk back from the dead. It was the last that so unsettled me, and I kept as far back from him as I could. I turned to Cedany and wanted desperately to know her word on all of this, but no one else spoke, and I did not want to single us out.

I could see why it might take Verenthon so long to reach us, now that I walked the path myself. It might have been circumstance, but I could have sworn I spent a lifetime alone on that cobble road. I wanted nothing more than to turn tail, but of the four soldiers among us, one walked at the rear. At the end stood another wall, not a tenth so grand at the Wall that guarded the city, but stone and solid and breached only a by a narrow gate. The portcullis had been drawn up, and I flinched upon spotting it's iron spikes suspended above our heads. I skipped past quickly, nervous that whatever rope or chain held it might give way.

I had never been into the castle before. For all that I was scared, I could not seem to keep my eyes within my skull. They bulged, begging to be set free so that they might see the wonders around us. Gardens bloomed so wide and deep that I wondered if they might be called farms. The slope of the hill and shelters atop the wall had been deceiving, making the castle seem much larger than it was. The stone house was still the most impressive structure I had ever visited, excepting perhaps the Grand Temple, but only because this did not have so much colored glass. It was not the structure that held me though.

Within the wall a small village seemed to thrive. I saw blacksmiths at work, toilers grubbing amongst the soil and plants, men moving cattle and boys driving geese and sheep. An open face stable showed seven horses right there, larger than any I'd seen before. They milled about until catching wind of us, at which some shied backwards and others kicked their stalls. Nervously I skittered aside a pace or so, and earned myself a scoff from a soldier for my troubles. When folk caught site of Neluin they stopped whatever chore they had been about and bowed. Certainly he is the mage they all speak of, I told myself, and didn't know what to make of it.

Within the heart of the village sat the true castle, with several towers and more shimmering window panes than I'd ever seen on one building. The sun rested well below the wall by now but they glowed ruby still, reflecting the clouds. The doors were not guarded by men in tatty leathers or rusted mail, but by soldiers adorned in shining metal plate. I could see jewels glinting at the pommels of their weapons. The castle's main entrance was composed of two monstrous wooden doors, arched and engraved with striding horsemen and hounds and beasts I could not name. I thought I might stand there all day reading the carving's story, but we were hustled on.

“Would you look at that...” I murmured to Cedany, awed.

“On'y a man wiv more gold 'en sense would spend it on fancy wood,” Cedany murmured back in poor man's cant, rolling her eyes, resentful.

On her other side Pigeon snickered.

If I thought the doors were worth a day, I could have spent a year in the hall. It's floor was stone, only it was hewn level and fit together without gap. On the far sides lay rushes, divided by a carpet of blue and silver rolled out down the middle, leading towards a raised platform, upon which sat a long table and a dozen or so chairs. More tables with benches on either side lined the walls and sat mostly empty, but at a glance I could guess they might house up to two hundred people. The windows were tall and veined with metal in curling designs, with panes cut to fit the strange shapes left in between. Between the windows hung wide, tall pieces of cloth embroidered with magnificent depictions of people and beasts and places I had never fathomed might exist. Neluin did not halt at all, and his pace was far too fast for my liking, distracted as I was. I had almost forgotten to be fearful. I wondered how I would ever sleep tonight, back in the slums. Cedany and I shared a small room in a lodging house, within nothing more than a three-legged table and two pallets to sleep on. Our windows had no glass, only rickety shutters. We had no horses or soldiers or gardens, only rats and filth.

We were led around the dais and through a short hall. I lost track of the doors we passed, the paintings on the walls, and the servants who scurried to get out of our way. Eventually we spilled into a room of middling size and comparatively bland décor. A table sat in it's middle winged by simple chairs, and at its head stood a tall, lean man. His hair was such a pale sort of bland that it appeared nearly white. He craned over some sort of parchment, but it was his clothing that caught my eye. His doublet was of the finest silk I'd ever seen, rich and blue in color, accented with white trim and grey embroidery. I could not see the pattern from my place at the back of the pack but it seem quite intricate. A velvet half cape was slung over his shoulders and clasped with a sapphire broach the size of a duck's egg. He looked up at the sound of our approach, but had eyes for Neluin alone.

“Are these all of them?”

I felt Cedany bristle beside me. If we found his tone direct and somewhat rude, Neluin disagreed. “Yes my lord, all those you've selected.”

“Hmm,” he said by way of response and turned his gaze back to whatever was spread before him. A jolt sped through my body and unless I was incorrect, through several others among us. My lord? I wasn't sure who among us had ever seen Lord Arin, but I was certainly not among them. Surely if anyone in this castle could upstage a mage by way of garb, it would be him. I wandered frantically if we should bow or kneel, something, but Neluin spoke once more before I could do or say anything.

The mage had turned back to us, a smile on his face. “We have much to discuss. Please, sit-”

“No, don't bother,” Lord Arin interrupted. “This shan't take long. Give them their orders.”

Unless I was mistaken, Neluin sighed as he made his way to a low desk on the far wall. He lay his hands atop its surface and paused, seeming to focus. To my utter alarm his hands took up a shimmer glow before an audible click was heard through the room. The desks doors sprang up and form within the mage extracted several scrolls, somewhat larger than those we had already signed. I didn't bother unrolling mine, as Neluin began talking once more.

“I'm sure you've all heard the talk in the streets,” he said by way of beginning. I could hear poorly muted excitement in the undercurrent of his words. “The outside world is beginning to calm. Our king has taken great measure to combat the beasts beyond our walls, and his efforts are more than evident. Carrier hawks are surviving their flights between cities, farmers have been able to expand their lands. The golden age has come again, my friends.” Neluin's smile was broad and brimming with excitement. It struck me that he seemed somewhat undignified for a mage, reminding more of a troublesome school boy than a dignified scholar.

I saw Willem suck in his cheek, biting on the flesh he caught there. He wanted to speak, but would not.

“Our Lord, in his infinite wisdom, has decided to make good on this opportunity. It has been four centuries since our current era began, since civilized folk set foot into the wilds beyond the walls. We all know that is it the quick man, the sharp man, who makes good on a ripe opportunity. Lord Arin means to be the first to begin merchant trade once more.”

Cale sighed and frowned, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Beggin' your pardons, m'lord, but what's this have to do with us?”

I winced, wondering if he had spoken out of turn, earning us the ire of the mage or our lord. My eyes flitted to the lean, slender man who still had yet to so much as gaze at us. The corner of his mouth twitched down into a small frown. Neluin opened his mouth to speak, but Lord Arin beat him to it. “I'm sending a caravan to seek out the mountain clans. I'm told you are the finest guards in the lowest part of our otherwise fine city. I mean to use you as guards.”

Cedany gasped under her breath, and I turned in time to see the color flee form her cheeks. Her hand locked around my forearm like a vice, and I wondered if she might faint. I pulled her in, so that she might lean on me. It would not do to make a fool of herself in his presence. All around us I felt the aura of our group change from surprise to absolute horror. The Dunsford brothers looked as pale as Cedany, where as Pigeon had taken on a green tinge.

Lord Arin looked up for the first time to gauge our reaction, and his frown became a sneer. “How promising,” he quipped dryly. “You all leave tomorrow morning. You have this evening to conclude your affairs in the city, and you will meet with your wagon masters tomorrow at the northern gate. Leave at the first call, no later.” He dropped his gaze once more. “I will permit each of you one piece of gear from the castle armory, to be returned upon your return. Your scrolls there hold the rest of what you need to know.”

He fell silent, and just like that we were dismissed. Neluin bowed, but we did not. I could not speak for the others but my body had seemingly stopped listening to my minds commands. Cold lead had filtered into my veins and numbed me. I do not remember leaving that room, or the other halls we were lead down after leaving that small, sparse room. It was in a daze that we shuffled along after the mage, like so many sheep. I could not say who we passed or whether we stopped or not along the way, but only that no one made so much as a single sound.

The smell of wood smoke and burning things brought me back into reality. A gush of hot air swept into my face and eyes, making them sting. I blinked and rubbed at them, finally looking up to find us in a small courtyard of sorts. The setting sun had delved the outside world into semi-darkness, broken only by a ruddy orange light from numerous fires. A nest of forges and a slew of anvils, each manned by a smith of their own, sat off to one side. Closer to us was an open face shelter of sorts, having on three walls. Weapons and pieces of armor hung from the walls, and upon the ground sat rows of chests filled with things I could not name. Small children hefted buckets of water and charcoal to and fro, while older men shouted orders above a raucous din of banging tongs and roaring flames. Neluin strode forward and activity came to a sudden halt.

He paused, slipping his hands into his sleeves and looking out over the men with something akin to distaste. “Master Orlan?”

“Aye, m'lord,” came the call from farther within the shadows. A large man emerged, wearing only a shirt, breeches, boots, and a leather apron. His skin was darkened with soot and he bore scars on his hands and arms, burns by my best guess. His forearms were taught with muscle. As to his features, he seemed plain and hard, with a stout jawline and no hair at all atop his head, countered by a short but coarse beard obscuring his chin. I could not pick out the color of his eyes.

“These brave souls are off to do our lord's bidding. He has offered each a piece of equipment. Please outfit them according to their wishes.”

If Master Orlan began to grimace, as I suspected he did, he hid it quickly. “Aye. Mighty generous of him.”

“Indeed,” Neluin said dryly, then turned back towards the way we had come. As a parting gesture he called over his shoulder, “Farewell, cityfolk. I wish you all the luck in the world.”

My mouth turned back to cotton, reminded once more of what we faced on the morrow. As the mage left, activity picked up once more, but I did not miss the gazes that lingered quite a while upon us. Master Orlan looked down at us all, and I noticed he stood and inch or two taller than even Willem and Cale. He crossed his tree trunk arms and frowned.

“Pardon my saying, but you don't look like those our gracious lord typically goes after.”

Loriah stepped up, dwarfed by the man's breadth and height. She couldn't have weighed more than nine stone and he nearly twenty of hard muscle, but she did not appear daunted. “No pardons needed, like as not we all agree with you.”

She cast a glance over her shoulder and found the rest of us still pale, clumped together like so many sheep. Master Orlan rubbed a hand along his chin and hummed. “Well, not my place to pry. Let's get this sorted out.”

He herded us towards the open face shelter and took us one by one inside. He moved deftly around the small space, evidence of long hours and much practice. I wondered what his place here was, and after seeing a handful of small boys trip over themselves to remove themselves from his path, it came to me that master smith would be a likely guess. I watched as Loriah accepted a short sword in a dark leather sheath, as Willem strapped on a longsword and as Cale accepted a bastard sword with a grin. As guards we were expected to carry blades within the walls at all times, but it was not provided for us. Even veterans like those three oft had to do with cheep iron and shoddy craftsmanship. Even from several paces away I could the gleam of well made steel, the shine of leather well cared for, and the dull distaste in Master Orlan's face for every blade he gave away.

Pigeon turned away a blade, taking instead a new leather jerkin, without patch or mend. It bore no device or ornament, but by my best wager it would have cost me six months pay to buy for myself. It seemed sturdy, and fit her like a glove. Her two companions, Lej and Sammin, took a shirt of mail each. As the youngest, Cedany and I hung back yet to watch Natyre, Hallis, and Maven step forward. Natyre chose a true sword for himself, gleaming and new, with silver wire decorating the handle. To me it seemed a flashy exuberance, especially when his frame would lend much better to a short sword. Hallis took a long bow for herself, and I smiled despite myself in memory of a drunken wager I had once witnessed. Hallis had worked atop the city wall before coming down as a guard. She had been among those tasked to drive back the flying beasts that might swoop down upon the cityfolk inside. Last winter a farmer in from the fields, drinking away the woe of losing his fourth and last son to wilds, had struck up an argument with her that ended with the tall, lean woman outshooting him arrow for arrow in the muster courtyard and walking away with a fat sack of coin. Cedany watched this too with a bright gleam in her eye.

After his other teammates had made their choices, quiet Mavin strode forth and selected a mail shirt without so much as a word. I had been so distracted in watching the others choose theirs that I had not thought about my own at all. Cedany grabbed my arm and dragged me forth, all to the tune of my low curses. I heard a chuckle from behind us, which I pointedly ignored. Master Orlan peered down at us from under heavy brows, and sighed. He seemed about done with all this charity, and I felt that his temper was somewhat shorter than it had been an hour ago. Nerves dried my throat, leaving Cedany all the room she wanted to proudly claim her desire for a bow.

My eyes narrowed and my head whipped towards her. Impulse was no reason to be feckless, and she ought to have better sense than that.

She caught my look and glared back in turn. With a huff she turned back, watching Master Orlan test the bend in the unstrung bows at hand. Under her breath she said, “Don't stare so, Aranya. Your face looks sour and pinched.”

I ignored the jab and ground my teeth. “Cedany, you don't even know how to shoot.”

“I'll learn.”

I ran a hand through long, unbound locks and sighed in frustration. I knew the set to her jaw, defiance at it's finest. “This is important. Who says your chipped iron will suffice when we're-” The words caught in my throat and I swallowed, painfully. “Well.”

Her skin lost a bit of it's color, but she said nothing. Master Orlan returned with an unstrung stave and a coiled bowstring. He handed both to my sister and raised a brow. “Can you string it?”

She took the items and weighed them in her hand for just a moment. Knowing her as I did, my guess was that she was marveling. With a bright grin she looped one end of the string around one notched wooden end before planting it firmly in the ground between her feet. She fumbled a bit with how best to go about her task but in only a moment she was bending the stave to her will. Somewhat awkwardly, if without struggle, she looped on the other half of the now taught string and presented it to the master smith. He simply hummed and said, “It'll serve. Keep that oiled, now.”

He turned to me and raised a brow, asking in a silent way what I would demand of him. I kicked a toe in the ashy dirt, suddenly nervous. I hardly felt the type to ask anything of these important castle folk, and I think Orlan knew it. I opened my mouth and tried to speak, truly I did, but no words came out. The behemoth smith sighed, and perchance he softened a degree.

“Well, best look about, eh?” He clapped a massive ham of a hand onto my shoulder and steered me in among the racks. My eyes traced the elegant pommels and handles, caught the gleaming of the fire reflected in well polished metals. I was swimming in the sight of it all, overloaded almost to the point of numbness. Orlan stopped us while facing the back wall, where dozens of blades hung. “What sort do you carry now?”

My hand ghosted over to brush the hilt of my beaten and battered short sword. I had won it in a wager when I was but fifteen. Together, it and I had done some fair terrible things to find the money to feed my sister and I. When we had enough for armor of our own, it had been into the guards and no questions asked. “S-Short sword,” I stuttered out, forcing my mind back into the present moment.

Master Orlan hummed and moved us down a ways. “I'd see your blade, if you don't mind.”

It was near enough to an order from the big man that I didn't hesitate. Smooth as water I freed the sword and handed it over, hilt first. He smiled at the sight of it, shoddy as it was, and I saw in him a true fondness for his craft. “Hmm. Not too bad for a street blade. Old, though. Honed too thin, eh, but sturdy. Balance is well enough, too. Well then...” He held it out and I eagerly reclaimed it, relieved.

The smith had his eyes back on the wall, and in short order had pulled down two different blades. He seemed about to turn them over for my inspection when he gave me a hard look. I didn't know what to make of it, but before I could ask what he wished he had a low chest opened and hands roving about within. A third blade in a dusty scabbard joined the two others and he laid them down atop a cluttered work table.

“Let's see how these suit, eh?”

My fingers itched to rove over the steel and I could not keep a small smile from claiming my lips. The first sword sat in a soft brown scabbard, engraved with what seemed to be swooping falcons. The blade was narrow, no longer than the length of my arm, and when hoisted it seemed to sit well in my hand. The pommel was adored with a leaf-and-vine design. I liked it well enough, but did not want to be hasty. I slid it back in its cover and moved on. The second had come from the wall as well, and sat in a sheath dyed black and without design. It's handle was simple, it's pommel without design, and when set free I found the blade a bit too long for my liking. It was quickly returned and forgotten.

The third blade was covered in dust and cobwebs, as if it had been stowed for quite some time. I brushed away the debris with a deft hand so that I might see what lay underneath. The scabbard was nicked and scuffed, showing quite a bit of use. It's handle was made of leather woven and braided into design, and a deep red stone I could not name was set into the silver pommel. The blade, when brought forth into the light of the fires, seemed to glimmer as the others had not. A pattern akin to rippling water played across it's surface, and while it boasted numerous scratches, it held not a nick or bend. I held it, twisting this way and that, and smiled.

Orlan hummed again. “My 'pprentice boy found that buried deep in the castle library, along with a few others. Caught my memory that it was nearabout the same build as your iron sticker there. Old steel, but good nonetheless.”

“It will serve,” I said with a smile. I turned to look at him and said, “Thank you, Master Orlan.”

It may have been the firelight but it struck me that the large man might have been blushing. He turned and ushered us all away from the forge. A child, likely one of the apprentices he spoke of, trotted forward and made to lead us from the castle but the smith waved him away. As we walked through the castle once more, he peered down at me.

“Might be I'm suspicious, but seems to me it's an ill wind that sends city folk on business needin' a lord's steel blessing.”

I bit my lower lip, fighting to keep the blood from fleeing my face yet again. In all truth, I hated the dizzy rush it left behind. I nodded by way of answer.

Master Orlan sighed. “Between me and you good cityfolk,” he murmured under his breath, tossing a look over his shoulder to check for company, “We've been set to running the forges triple time. Couldn't say what out lord's preparin' for but it twists my tripes. Maybe it's not so bad that you all have some good craft to back you, if you're to be the first spark on the kindlin', as it seems may be.”

That did little to sooth me, and I winced. No one else seemed to have aught to say, either. Maybe the other groups would be fit for a such a thing, but Cedany and I were babes in comparison. There were a handful of groups leagues more capable and experienced than we. Choosing Loriah, Natyre, and Pigeon seemed like a fair strategy, but we felt more like a draw from a hat. I looked at the large man's scars again and wondered how many came from his work, and if any had been earn elsewhere. He seemed a hard sort, and worldly. I might have asked him what he thought of life outside the wall, but something told me we weren't supposed to speak of the task we'd been given, even if our lord or the mage hadn't specifically said so.

Before long we were walking back through the long hall, and out of the beautiful double doors. Orlan bid us farewell then with a gruff nod and a final look at me, and at the sword strapped over my shoulder. “Luck, good folk. Like as not you'll need it.”

A forced a weak smile and said, “Thanks again.”

The others mumbled their thanks as well but then we were off, descending the path and then the sloping road back into our cesspool. Natyre's group peeled away first, living the farthest from our district, without so much as a by-your-leave. I didn't hold the bad manners against them, though. Not a one of us seemed in a fit mood to converse, with our orders looming heavy over us. My own scroll remained unread, folded twice and again and resting now in the pocket of my breeches. Now that I'd thought of it, it seemed to burn there and itch to be read. I did my best to ignore it, nodding a silent farewell to Pigeon as she led her partners away as well.

Loriah sighed, when the five of us were alone, relatively speaking. She ducked into a shallow alley not far from Cedany and mine's lodging house. She ran a hand through her short brown hair, and I smiled, knowing that I had picked up the same habit of aggravation from her. “I don't like this one bit,” she murmured.

“Nor I,” Willem agreed, “but there's naught we can do for it.”

“Orders are orders,” his brother agreed.

Loriah chewed at her lower lip, clearly thinking hard. “I'm thinking I might bring along the new boy,” she said finally, and sounded guilty about it.

Willem's countenance darkened and he shook his head. “This is no mission for green boys, Loriah Kyre.”

“He's not green,” she snapped, “He's just no guard yet.” She must have noticed the confusion on mine and Cedany's face because she turned and grimaced. “I took on a new trainee. Needed the extra coin, with winter coming. No fair to take him on and leave him for a month with naught to do. He's got promise. No use letting him get after other work.”

“Our lord won't outfit him,” Cale said, crossing his arms over his broad chest. I got the sense that neither man was overly fond of whoever they spoke of. The rumble in their voices reminded me of the times Cedany or I would act the fool and get cuffed for it.

Loriah waved that off. “He's well kitted. Consider it settled, the more help we can get the happier I'll be. This is no drop-of-the-hat plan, despite how that honey tongued mage played it. I knew it when we mustered, and I know it now. Something's afoot.”

“Aye, and there's naught we can do but do as we're bid. I won't loose sleep over it,” Cale said gruffly, pulling out his dagger to begin cleaning under his nails. I wondered absently if he was telling the truth. “Not the first time we've been out, anyways.”

My jaw dropped. I hadn't known either of the Dunsford brothers had ever set foot into the plains that nestled our hilltop city. Cedany seemed equally struck, but as always she was quicker with her words than I. “Why on earth did you ever have to leave?”

Willem shrugged and looked away towards the mouth of the alley. “We were nine, Hossolf thirteen. Our Da was short of coin so he lent us out to farmerfolk for a week.”

“What was it like?” I asked in a quiet voice.

Cale let out a chuckle. “Dunno. We only made it six miles down the road before a Wyvern fell in and snatched up two other boys with us. Second pass around it took a horse, third time around it set fire to the supply train we rode with. Didn't stay to see what would happen next. Hossolf took up the reins of our guard's charger, swept Willem and I onto its rump and ran the beast all the way back to the Wall.”

My knees shook so bad I had to sit down. I felt as if I was going to turn out my stomach right there before them all, and I clenched my teeth tight. Two sharp slaps and a string of curses brought my head back up and I found a very angry Loriah glaring down the twins, each man nursing a cheek. Sharply, she asked, “Did you need to do that?”

“Did you?” Willem asked, an angry coal alight in deep blue eyes.

“Yes! No use working them up, and making this worse than it is!”

Cedany's shaky voice broke in, quiet yet claiming dominance over the argument. She seemed so small and delicate, there among the alley scum, all pale skin and fair hair. “Word is it's not so bad anymore though, right? Going on two decades now, or so it's said.”

Cale glared at their smallest teammate before sighing. “Sure, lass.”

Loriah gave us a weak smile before moving her fingers to a pouch on her sword belt. She dug about for a moment before pulling out two silver coins. She held them out, and frowned when I didn't reach to take them. “Get yourself a good meal. We'll all be doing the same.”

“We don't need-”

Cedany cut me off by giving me a shove and taking the coins herself. With a glare tailored for me and me alone, she tucked them away into her own purse.

Willem chuckled at the exchange. “If we wanted to be charitable, we'd hand out fur boots and capes, thick woolens and gloves.”

My brows drew together. “Autumn's just started. We won't need furs for at least two more months.”

Willem shook his head and offered a small smile, clearly amused. “You think the whole world's the exact same as our little cage? I take it you haven't read over our orders.”

Cedany and I dumbly shook our heads.

Loriah smiled wolfishly. “We're headed up.”

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Fox's Novel: A QUEEN'S LEGACY

Valeriya