The Ash Queen, page 16
“That is an odd question,” he replied, his focus back on the path before them. She realised then that they hadn’t been following a path, that they were tracking directly from their point to the king without following roads or tracks. As she looked behind her, it was as though the forest had closed around them. Any path she might have thought she’d seen was gone.
“The forest is doing that,” she whispered.
“Allowing us to pass?” Heath asked, then nodded. “I have asked it to help.”
“Like Grace did,” Frayne said, then bit his lip as though regretting raising her name.
“I have a similar gift,” Heath replied, still looking forward.
“Do you miss her?” Nelda asked. She meant the question for Frayne, and yet they both nodded in unison. The woman nestled in Heath’s arms put her hand on his.
“What do we do when we find them?” West asked.
“Them?” Nelda asked, wondering if he was thinking of the queen. Or did he too have some understanding of what they were headed into?
“The king and...” West looked at Heath as though he might have the answer.
“I’m not sure,” Heath replied, “but I know we have to move faster.”
He nudged the horse lightly, and it moved easily into a faster gait, the forest opening before it, the ground smoothing out. Despite her own concerns and the time since she had been on a horse, Nelda did the same. The king was still some distance across the kingdom, and if they were going to travel as such then they would never reach him. Or it might be far too late.
She had no idea as to what condition Dunstan was in or what the queen might have done to him in the meantime. He might be too well hidden for them to reach him when they did find his location. He might have moved.
Nelda sucked in a deep breath as the wind blew her cloak about her. Her hair had worked its way free again and was blowing about her face. She might not have the same sense of him as she did Nuris, but she was certain they were headed where they should be. That this was the only place she should be at this time.
The idea of Nuris clung close around her. She feared leaving him behind, but she had to find Dunstan first. She had no idea if the queen and the shadows were working together, but it appeared that way. Nelda had seen the queen talking with a monk, after all. Or had the queen been using them all along, had taken something from them to make herself stronger?
The woman was infuriating, and Nelda disliked her more and more. Not that she had ever liked the woman. It had been her place to serve the king and queen, and she hoped with all her heart that she would never be in a similar situation again.
Heath slowed before her, and she pulled the horse up beside his. The forest closed around them again, and she realised how dark it was.
“Are we close?” she asked, but she knew they were still far from Dunstan and Nuris. She tried to maintain the confidence she had felt not so long ago.
“No,” Heath murmured. The girl in his arms sat forward and stretched.
They trotted side by side, allowing the horses a chance to rest. Nelda could hear the soldiers behind them chatting amongst themselves.
“Let’s rest a moment. Allow the horses a break,” Heath said.
Lia slipped down from the horse first and held her hand out over the ground. A small pond opened up, and the horses huffed and moved about. She gently patted the neck of the horse Heath still sat upon, and it nudged her before it leaned forward and drank. Heath climbed down as the soldiers rode up beside them. The little pond increased in size as the horses moved forward to drink.
“I’m not sure I want to share with the horse,” one of the soldiers murmured.
Lia moved her hand in the air as though feeling for something and then pointed at the ground. A stream of water shot up into the air. West surprised Nelda by putting his face in it and rubbing at the grime before unstoppering his water bag and filling it.
He stepped back as others did the same. No one seemed to mind that Lia was a witch. Nelda wondered whether they were accepted because of their connection to the king and the prince or because no one worried about the magic in the kingdom as she had feared for so long.
“Mother,” Heath said, holding out a skin. Nelda looked at him and nodded as she accepted the bag and sipped from it. The water was cool and fresh. Once everyone had filled their bags, Lia moved her hand and the water died away.
Despite the dying light, it was still day, and Nelda wondered if they should stop or continue. They had been traveling through the dark and day without issue, the forest helping them on their path. As the dark dropped over the clearing, she raised a flame in her hand and looked around the group. Heath’s hand closed around her arm, and he gave her a gentle tug.
She allowed the flame to float down towards the ground, growing it to both warm the group and provide light. Two soldiers moved to the edge of the clearing without question. The others sat around the flame as Nelda and Heath stepped back from the group.
“What do you sense?” she asked him.
“I’m not sure. He has moved, I can feel that much. The forest is shifting the path. We are travelling in the same direction, but it is turning to the northeast.”
“Should we be worried by that?” Nelda asked. “Is it your doing?”
“It is the forest; it is helping. But I don’t know why he would be moving. It is much slower than before. Perhaps he is free and moving homeward.”
“Can we know for sure?” Nelda asked, tempted to see if they could track him again. But if the forest was helping them, then the kingdom understood the importance of the king and would lead them to him wherever he might be.
“This is hard for all of us,” Heath said, standing in closer, his arms closing around her.
“What do you think is coming?” she asked instead, hoping that she did not sound as worried as she felt. They were still so far from everything.
“Something,” he whispered.
“Something dangerous?” she asked.
“It is all dangerous,” he returned, letting her go. “No matter where we go, what we are trying to do, there is someone else trying to stop us, trying to turn the world into what they want it to be.”
“I don’t think it would be as easy to accomplish as they think.”
“And yet they have managed so much more than I ever thought possible.”
Nelda took his hands in hers and closed her eyes. She could feel the thrum of magic, but there was something else behind it, a calming, grounding effect that she was sure was what had called Lia to him that day in the forest. There was more to him than she had understood. She trusted that he would lead them where they needed to go to protect Frayne and the crown.
“What happens after we find him?” she asked, her eyes still closed.
There was no response, and she looked up at Heath watching her. Then he shook his head.
“It is not good, or you don’t know?”
“Both,” he murmured. But he glanced about then, as though others might be watching or listening. He looked into the trees that leaned towards him. “I don’t understand how I know that.”
“But you know,” she said, squeezing his hands. “That is enough for me.”
“And me,” Frayne said, stepping out of the dim light towards them. Nelda wondered if he had been listening.
“I’m not...”
Frayne’s arms closed around them both. “I don’t care what you are,” he said, his head resting against Heath’s. “I will follow you no matter where you lead.”
“I’m not sure you should have that much trust.”
“I have always trusted you.”
“But you were the one who knew the way to go.”
“And I know that the way is to follow you,” Frayne said, his voice catching in his throat. “The only way to save my father, and our parents,” he added in a low whisper.
“What if we don’t reach them in time?”
“We will,” Frayne continued. “You know we will.”
Something in Heath relaxed at Frayne’s words, but Nelda wasn’t as confident that they would get to where they needed to go in time. They had already been sidetracked by the queen, and she had no idea what the shadows were doing or what the cardinal had planned.
None of it was making any sense to her. None at all. She needed Nuris, and Dunstan. It was as though she could not think clearly without them. As though the searching for them was pulling at her senses in all the wrong ways, and Heath’s feeling that there was something else coming for them should be the focus. Only she didn’t know how to do that.
Frayne pressed something into her hand, and she looked down at the hard lump of bread. Then Heath held out his hand, and it contained an apple. A bright red apple.
“The forest is helping,” he said. “The kingdom wants to help.”
Nelda nodded then. His understanding of the Earth seemed something more than Grace’s had been.
“I think we need to continue,” West said as the soldiers stood around the flame. Nelda could not guess at the feeling they had. Did they want to be out of this situation with the witches? Did they want to be somewhere they were sure to be safe?
Heath nodded, and Nelda closed her hand around the apple. Lia closed the water hole. The horses appeared refreshed, but there had been little time to rest for any of them. Nelda wondered how much longer they could continue at this pace.
Heath climbed up on the horse first and held out a hand to Lia, who took it. He lifted her easily onto the saddle before him. She leaned back into him, closing her eyes, and as Nelda climbed onto her horse, the forest closed around them. She raised the burning flame higher into the air and watched the ripple move through the trees.
A pathway opened, not in the direction she had thought they were travelling, but another way. She wondered just how far Dunstan had travelled and how he was managing to get there. Was he alone, or was the queen was dragging him along?
She took a deep breath, and then Frayne was beside her. He nodded to her and then moved up beside Heath.
“I think you should travel at the centre of the group, Your Highness,” one of the soldiers suggested, more nervously than she thought she had heard them before.
“I want to be close to Heath,” Frayne replied without turning.
“If you are both lost, we would not be able to return to Sunsong,” the soldier returned.
“If they are both lost, we may not be able to go anywhere,” West added.
“We won’t be lost,” Frayne replied.
Heath bowed his head to his brother, but he still looked a little uncertain, as though he was not quite sure what lay ahead of them. Nelda had no idea. Again, she had the feeling Nuris needed her, was calling to her, and yet she couldn’t hear him. She had no sense of where he might be.
“I’m coming,” she whispered, although she wasn’t sure which one of them she was trying to reassure.
Chapter 23
Dunstan walked along behind the sisters, dust kicking up from the old horse and the cart. They had been travelling together for several days and—other than the occasional question as to how he had come to be where he was, or offering of food and water—there had been no discussion. He expected talking, chattering or the like amongst the women, but that was not the case at all.
“Are you certain, Your Majesty, that you do not want to ride in the cart?” one of the sisters asked. He looked towards her with a shake of his head.
“I don’t think the horse could carry me,” he said. “I am sorry,” he added, and her step slowed. “I do not know your name.”
“Sister Grace,” she said, and he stopped.
He wondered at the colour of her hair beneath the head piece and the colour of her eyes that he had not taken the time to notice. She would have been as young as Grace, although her tunic fitted much better than the image he had been left with of Grace in the oversized dress. Frayne had talked about the oversized tunic she had been wearing when he found her. He should have taken more time to ask the general more about her.
He had been the first to reach her, after the cardinal, and in some ways had kept her safe enough that the boys had been able to save her.
“Your Majesty?” one of the older sisters prompted. Dunstan looked from the young sister to her and the group standing around the cart. They stared at him as though he were not what they thought him to be.
“I apologise,” he said, bowing down before the sister.
“There is no need,” she said, her voice soft and sweet.
“There is.” He was uncertain as to how he could explain his behaviour. “I knew another Grace,” he said instead, and she smiled at him, a sad smile that seemed to understand.
“Was she a sister of the Goddess?” one of the others asked.
“Yes,” he said. “And she died, but not because she was a sister.”
“Because she was a witch,” the young sister said.
“I wanted to save her,” Dunstan said quickly. “My son...” But he had no idea how to explain what had become of his life to these women.
“You don’t want the witches to die?” another asked. “You have spent your whole time as King searching them out. And then you started burning our convents to the ground.”
“That is enough, Sister. Much has happened to the man since then,” the mother whispered.
“I have not told you much,” he said.
“You do not need to for us to understand. Your son was returned; that would change any man.”
“Yes,” he admitted. “Thank you, Mother, for your understanding.” He bowed his head again in her direction.
“And the boy’s mother—was she happy to see him?”
Dunstan sighed. His hand rested on his belt, and he wondered if he would manage to find his sword a second time.
“There is a river ahead,” one of the others said, and they directed the horse along the narrow road towards a wooden bridge. The sound of water was comforting. Dunstan moved to the front of the group, leading the way down the gently sloping bank towards the water.
The little river was almost as narrow as the bridge that crossed it. He wanted to linger by the shore. There was something comforting in the willow that leant over the waterway. He dipped his hand into the cool running water, washing away the dust and grime and then scooping the water into his mouth.
“It is fresh,” he said, looking up at the women standing back. “Would you like me to fill your skins?” He held out a hand, and it was Sister Grace who moved forward first. She handed him her water skin without hesitation.
He took his time submerging the skins into the cool water and filling them, stoppering them, and handing them back. Sister Grace handed each into the small crowd of sisters and then handed him another.
“Would you like to talk of her?” she asked softly, squatting down beside him and dipping her hand into the water.
She wore a smile, and her eyes sparkled with the joy of the water.
“Do you fear what I am?” he asked.
She did not move her gaze from the glittering water as her smile widened. “What is it that I should fear?”
“That I am the monster who has destroyed the kingdom, caused you to lose your home, and left you to wander.”
She turned her smile his way, and he was struck by how ordinary her eyes appeared to be. He was not even sure of the colour, but he had half expected her to glow green when she turned from the water.
“You do not believe me a monster?” he asked.
“Your son would not have stayed with you if that were true.”
“He was trying to save his mother.”
“The queen?” she asked, her face crinkling with the confusion.
“She is a witch,” he whispered, looking over the water.
“The queen, or his mother?” she asked, her voice still as soft, and she surprised him by resting her hand on his arm.
“Are you the only one left?” he asked instead. “From your convent?”
When she did not respond, he turned to her. She was looking down, and a sadness that seemed to pull at him had replaced her earlier simple joy at the river.
“Your Majesty,” the mother said behind him, and he turned to the group beneath the tree. She held out a small chunk of bread. He tried not to sigh. He could do with some meat.
“The Goddess will supply,” the sister beside him murmured. “If it is right to do so.”
“I hope you are right,” he replied.
“Will you tell us of the witches?” the mother asked. Dunstan took in her serious features as he stood from the water, stretched out tired muscles, and nodded slowly. He joined them in the cool shade of the tree and rested his back against the trunk.
“I had believed a witch started the fire that took my son, my father, and half of Sunsong,” he started, and they watched him silently. “It appears I was wrong. The witches are not the threat I feared them to be, but instead they could help us.” One of the older sisters nodded slowly. Dunstan wondered what she might have seen, but he didn’t want to ask and put her in such a position. For those who harboured witches had been persecuted as much as the witches themselves, and the sisters of the Goddess had already paid too high a price for taking in the women who needed sanctuary from him and his father.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “The same witch, while running from a convent burning to the ground, found my son. Or he found her. Either way, they claimed each other and returned to Sunsong.”
“You care for her,” one of the others said. Without opening his eyes, he nodded slowly, picturing her long black hair, fire in her eyes. He wondered how he could have hated her for so long when he had only to admit to himself how much he loved her. He had told her as much, finally, and she was still wary of him—as she should be.
“You are not a monster,” Sister Grace said.
“As they travelled to Sunsong, they saved another witch, one the cardinal had taken for himself. No,” he added, “two. Although they did not reach her, their actions saved Pip.”
“How many witches have you taken in?” one asked, and he wasn’t sure if it was awe or fear he heard in her voice.
