The Messenger’s War – Chapter Nine

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Kersey turned the medallion in her hand over and over as she walked. It was thick and heavy and made of gold—or brass, Kersey couldn’t tell the difference but she liked to think it was gold—with curious runes running around the edge and a shard of translucent, shiny black stone set in the middle. There was what looked like a little tree etched onto it.

In her other hand she carried a note that she was supposed to give to one of the Weapons. It was from that Green Rider with the burned-wax face—Lieutenant Brenny, she thought it was, or maybe Brennyn.

She polished the medallion on her sleeve with a besotted smile. Her mother—she didn’t know her father—was a maid, and they would never be able to afford something like it on their own. It had a pin clasp on the back of it, but she didn’t dare put it on her uniform. She wondered why that old man had given it to her—maybe he was a foreign noble in disguise, or a spy or something.

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“Hello, my girl,” called a man’s voice. It was gravely and a bit frail-sounding, and she looked over to see a little man in a patched, ragged shirt and trousers. He was little for a grown man anyway, but still bigger than her.

He had a strip of cloth wrapped around his head, like the turbans some men from the Under Kingdoms wore. But his wrinkled skin was fair and his eyes were blue. He seemed to be looking at her, so she stopped. She didn’t feel very nervous about him, just curious.

“Hello, child,” he said with a gap-toothed but still kindly smile, and waved at her. She noticed a very dark shape on his already dirty palm. Like an ink spot. Was he a scribe or a clerk? He didn’t look like one.

She smiled shyly. “Hi. What are you doing on the castle grounds?”

“Nothing very important. What about you?”

“No,” she chirped, “I meant why did the guards let you in?”

“My niece works in the kitchens.” The lie was smooth and rolled off his tongue easily; the girl thought it was truth.

“Oh, well my mum cleans the lanterns.”

“Oh,” he said and began to open his mouth again.

“And I’m a Green Foot.” She smiled proudly. Her eyes drifted to the gold medallion—or she supposed it was really a brooch—he had pinned to his shirt. “That’s pretty,” she observed.

He looked down at it in seeming surprise. He unclasped it and held it out to her. “You can have it if you would like.”

Her jaw unhinged and her eyes grew large as she took it from him. She looked at it then at him. “You sure?” he nodded. “Thanks!” She exclaimed and tucked it into her pocket.

She was tapped on the shoulder and she looked up into the face of the Green Rider. Kersey gulped, suddenly ashamed and fearing she’d been caught taking something from a stranger.

Though Lieutenant Brennyn was very kind to everyone in the Green Foot, she was sort of frightening anyway because of the scars. Kersey had always said she wasn’t afraid of ‘Wax Face’. The Rider split her curly hair far to one side and didn’t braid it so most of it would veil part of the burned side of her face, but it was still pretty obvious.

She looked at the old man with suspicion in her eyes before transferring a gentler gaze to Kersey.

“Hello Rider,” she said softly.

Mara smiled. “Would you take this to Weapon Fastion? He should be in the West Wing, at the door of the King’s study.”

She nodded hesitantly. Even the grown-ups were scared of the Weapons. The Lieutenant handed her a folded piece of paper with the Weapon’s name printed on the front. When she looked back to the little man just before she dashed off, he was nowhere to be found.

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She stopped and looked at it. Maybe it wasn’t such a good thing to have after all. Maybe, her imaginative mind theorized, it was some sort of symbol that he was trying to get rid of or he’d get found out. Maybe they’d kill her instead if they found her carrying it…. Now nearing the King’s study she found herself wanting to drop it somewhere. But there were servants and Weapons everywhere and you could never see the Weapons. Surely someone would see her….

Kersey gulped, having made herself anxious. She closed her hand around it to hide it from prying eyes. But the little man hadn’t looked like she’d imagined a spy would. She had thought, when rarely she’d thought of it, that a spy would be tall and elegant, not little and dressed like a beggar. Not that she knew, but it was probably okay.

Reassured, she rolled it under the cuff of her sleeve just as she heard the door of the King’s study shut with a bang. Lord Governor Coutre, who appeared to be in a fine bad temper, walked down the corridor. She bowed to him.

He didn’t acknowledge her—she hadn’t expected it and seeing his mood, she was glad he hadn’t. But as he passed she felt a curious tingling sensation crawl up her arm from the hand that held the brooch. There was also a little humming sound. She looked down at the brooch and saw the stone glowing from within. A little squeak escaped her throat and she threw it on the ground. The glow brightened. Suddenly she felt the floor beneath her seem to quiver.

Lord Coutre stopped walking and stared around; his eyes settled on her. If she hadn’t been so terrified herself, she would have been surprised to see they were fearful. In that moment there was a blast that threw her against the wall, and once her head crashed against it she knew nothing more.

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The air was smoky and Fastion’s ears rang as he staggered upright. Seconds ago, the corridor had been filled with blazing light and his instinct had been to hit the floor—he had done so, apparently in the nick of time as a great shockwave had rolled over him and slammed into the wall. The concussion had rippled through his body from the floor. Now his head was spinning.

He looked around—Erin was crumpled on the ground and his Brothers and Sisters could be seen coming through the haze. His sharp eyes also picked out ordinary castle guards hanging about the fringes and reluctantly coming their way. Two figures lay prone on the floor where Lord Coutre and a Green Foot runner had been a moment ago.

“Fastion! What happened here?” Donal.

“I do not know. I will—” Speak of the devil, he thought. The rest of his sentence would have been ‘check on the King’, but he was saved the trouble when the study door behind him opened to admit the King himself. Fastion grabbed his arm to prevent him from going any further. “Are you alright, Sire?”

“Yes. What happened, Fastion?” Zachary unknowingly echoed Donal’s question.

Blood trickled from a cut through Fastion’s eyebrow and stung his eye. He blinked his vision clear. “We will soon find out, Excellency, but you must not remain here in plain view.” This looked to him very much like an attempt on the life of his Sovereign. A magical one.

Despite the Weapon attempting to usher him back into the study, the King held out stubbornly when he caught sight of the two people on the floor down the hall. “Is that Lord Coutre?”

Fastion looked to Ellen, who crouched over them prodding the smaller, green-clad figure’s throat for a pulse. She gave him a minute affirmative gesture. He looked back to the King, “Yes, Sire.”

“And the other—a Green Foot?” Fastion nodded. He could see pain in his King’s eyes already. “Do they live?”

“I do not know, Sire. But I will tell you as soon as I find out how they fare. Now please Sire, go back inside.”

The King acquiesced grudgingly and Fastion sent Weapons Leah and Wilson in with him. He looked down at Donal, who cradled Erin’s head in his hands. “Is she alive?” he asked his fellow Weapon.

“Unconscious,” was the abrupt answer. “I cannot tell how badly she’s injured.”

Fastion nodded. They would take her to the mending wing soon. He walked down the hall to stand next to Ellen, Weapon Allis taking his place at the door.

She straightened from her bent position. “They are alive, but barely. I told a guard to bring stretchers.”

He didn’t feel any need to acknowledge her words. Something on the floor caught his eye and he crouched to get it. The change in position made his vision revolve at first, but he recovered and picked up the folded piece of parchment. It was from Mara. As promised. He tucked it into his doublet—he would take care of it later.

Whilst he was down there he noticed something else. It was a gold medallion with an empty fixture in the center. Bits of black crystal that resembled obsidian lay scattered around it. The gold was ornate. He squinted at it—he could almost recognize some of the runes on it. Fastion stared for a second before one word jumped out at him, sending danger signals ringing off the hook.

Imperial.

It looked like that was the beginning of his explanation. And he was already sure that it wasn’t going to be the explanation he would like.

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Estora clenched her father’s hand in hers, hot tears blurring her vision. Grief gripped her chest like a lead coil. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. They were supposed to have gone around him to seek approval from the other Lords. It was supposed to be a clean break, or at least that was what she thought.

She bit back a sob when she heard the mending wing door behind her creak as someone pushed it open. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. She told them as much.

The King stood stalk-still in the doorway, his brow creased and his lips tight from what he had learned. The blast had claimed three casualties—nine-year-old Kersey, Weapon Erin, and Lord-Governor Coutre.

Destarion said that Erin would live, having been a way back from where the explosion began, but it would be several weeks before she could go back on duty. Lord Coutre was fading fast from a blow to the head. All the plans were for naught, but moreover Estora’s father was dying. Zachary had never wished him any physical ill will despite his many threats and manipulations.

As for the young Green Foot… she was already dead. It was for this child that he felt the most guilt; a young life snuffed out before it began. Nine years were precious few. She was still in the room she had been placed in and her mother was kneeling over the small body sobbing.

Her cries could be heard all the way down the hall.

Fastion had come into the study earlier and told him that in looked like an assassination attempt and that it might be in connection with the Second Empire. Yet more worrying news and two lives ended because someone wanted the King of Sacoridia dead.

Three steps to cross the room and he stood at Estora’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he told her. It was inadequate, but he was. Estora nodded, biting down on her lips.

Coutre’s skin looked as white as his beard, a black bruise spanned the side of his head and there were small cuts on his cheeks. He was barely breathing. When she finally looked up at him the noblewoman’s eyes were red and puffy and her kohl had left tear tracks down her cheeks.

“Sire,” she choked. It was amazing how much a single event could change things. Not amazing in a good way. She swallowed spasmodically. The only thing she could think of to say was “What now?”

He put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. “You are your father’s heir. We will break the contract. You will be the new Lady-Governor of Coutre Province.”

She closed her eyes and swallowed again. She sounded a little bitter but steadier than before. “Yes. There is nothing standing in the way now, is there?”

Zachary knew it wasn’t a question that required an answer but answered anyway. “No. Unless you want there to be.” He recognized that she needed some sort of support and was almost afraid she would say yes, but strongly suspected she wouldn’t.

Estora gave a tiny, choking laugh. “No. I recognize half-heartedness when I hear it. Besides…” She broke off as the door opened behind them.

“Estora!” it wasn’t a shout, but it was loud enough to be a jolt in the quiet mending wing. Zachary turned to look and saw his cousin coming into the little room.

“Amberhill?” he said in surprise. This was unexpected.

The other man locked eyes with Zachary, some surprise showing. He inclined his head in a rushed way that was just shy of disrespectful. “Your Highness,” he said before stepping over to Estora.

The following conversation was brief and gentle, beginning with Amberhill’s “Are you alright?” As an observer Zachary paid less attention to their words than how they said them. Estora’s grieving eyes softened to a sad smile and Amberhill was unusually tender, and her use of his first name and the placement of his hand on her cheek were confirmation. So this was her secret new flame. He found himself rather taken off guard.

Estora suddenly realized that the King was still standing behind her and Xandis. She looked up and Xandis followed her line of sight. Zachary was standing there with a raised eyebrow and a mild, surprised expression.

Amberhill straightened, alarmed and kicking himself for just having given the game away. He wondered what his royal cousin would do. The answer came in the form of a simple action. The King squeezed Estora’s shoulder, told her he would talk to her soon, and left.

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A belated hello to everyone out there. And yes, I do know I’m cheating. Poor, dumb kid. FYI, I did some editing on chapters 1, 2, 3, 4 and 8.