The Sword and The Mountain (Kathardra book 1)

Apparently, the queen had been in the dungeon for several days. Her scalp was oily and her long red hair was stringy, her dress was filthy but she stood proud and tall despite her appearance.

The rest of the hall had been emptied, save for Paravel.

Queen Jearda stood before Zar, her chin raised.

Lessa looked to the side and caught Worran’s eye, he raised his eyebrows and tilted his head at the ground, expressing exactly how awkward Lessa felt.

“Is Golathar dead?” Jearda asked, straightforward.

With a furrowed brow Zar dipped his head once.

The queen gasped a little, other than that she showed no sign that she was just told her husband had been murdered.

“Why were you in the dungeon?” Zar asked her.

“My deceased husband was convinced that I was trying to kill him.”

“Why would he think that?”

“Because I tried to kill him.”

Lessa was taken aback, and clearly, Zar and Worran were as well. Shocked silence radiated through the room. Lessa could have sworn the queen looked satisfied, though her expression never changed.

“Why?” Worran was the first one able to speak.

“For years I have watched him do damage to Kathardra, and it was getting worse. He had become unstable. He was going to kill me soon anyway, I saw an opportunity and tried to rid Kathardra of him,” Jearda said.

“And now I must decide what to do with you,” Zar said.

After a moment’s hesitation, the queen spoke. “You could let me go home, or you could kill me. Either way, I won’t live in this castle any longer.”

“Where is home for you, Jearda?” Zar asked her.

“I was from a little farming town, Mistcrest.”

Zar nodded decisively. “You will return to Mistcrest. I will have the province lord set aside lands for you, and I will provide a stipend for the next decade, or until your lands can sustain you.”

“You are very kind… My king.” Jearda sank into a very low bow.

“There is one more matter, I don’t want to be taken by surprise some years from now by a child looking for revenge. Lessa, examine Jearda for a pregnancy.”

“Zar!” Lessa said, shocked. He ignored her.

“There is no need. In all my years with Golathar I was never able to carry full term.” The woman’s voice shook slightly, her chin thrust slightly higher.

“Even so,” Zar said.

Lessa glared at him. He stared back, not blankly, but insistently. Lessa stomped forward, and passed the queen.

“Come on,” she mumbled.

After taking a moment to bow to Zar, Jearda followed Lessa down the long throne room. Lessa went down the hall and started trying random doors, looking for an empty room. She found one right away, it was some sort of sitting room, large portraits lined the walls, warm green carpets were on the floor with matching couches arranged artfully.

Allowing the queen in Lessa locked the door behind them.

At once Jearda took to a couch, she winced as she sat then laid down, staring at the ceiling.

“Are you hurt?” Lessa asked, watching the pain the queen was clearly trying to hide.

“In his most recent fit Golathar cracked my ribs, I believe. It will heal.”

“I could heal it for you,” Lessa said, sitting on a couch opposite Jearda.

“No, no,” she said at once. “I’d rather endure it healing naturally than have the pain of a healing.”

A frown crossed Lessa’s face, “A proper healing shouldn’t hurt.”

The woman did not look at Lessa, but she released a long quiet sigh. “That somehow makes sense. I’m sure that witch did it on purpose.”

“The one with the black hair?”

Finally, Jearda looked at Lessa, she nodded slowly. “Where is she?” Jearda whispered.

The memory of the witch bursting under Lessa's magic flashed before Lessa’s eyes, and disgust rushed through her. “She is dead.”

A little chime of a laugh rang out from Jearda before she caught herself and covered her mouth with her hand. “You’re sure?”

Lessa nodded slowly. “I’m very sure.”

“If you really can heal me, without the pain, I’d welcome it.”

Lessa dropped to her knees at Jearda’s side. She carefully touched the woman’s abdomen, over her dress. She spoke the spell that would heal ribs and Jearda sucked in a long deep breath of relief.

“He’s right, you know, to check for a pregnancy,” Jearda said, looking at the ceiling once more. "Hopefully he will prove to be as wise his entire rule."

“Probably,” Lessa grumbled.

“Get on with it then.”

Lessa placed a hand on Jearda’s lower belly and closed her eyes. Using magic to explore inside a body was not an easy thing. She had to build an image of what she was feeling, without anatomical knowledge, it would just seem like a mess of soft and hard tissue. She found the small organ she was looking for and was still in shock.

“You…”

“Let me guess, there is scar tissue? A deformity? Perhaps a tumor?” Jearda’s voice was disdainful.

“No, you have a curse.”

“What?” the queen spat.

“I don’t know how else to describe it. It’s dark and writhing… The witch did this to you?”

Tears started streaking from the corners of Jearda’s eyes, she covered her face with her elbow and tilted her head away from Lessa.

“I think I can break it,” Lessa said quietly, feeling sympathetic but too awkward to comfort this woman.

Jearda nodded without uncovering her face.

Once more Lessa placed her hand above the woman’s womb and found the knot of magic that seemed to be spiked into the walls of her uterus.

With painstaking precision and care, Lessa removed the hooks and bubbled them in tiny pearls of magic so they could not reattach. Once every hook was detached she felt the spell start to lose energy and wither away.

“It’s gone now,” Lessa said, sitting back and rubbing her temples, a headache was starting to form.

Jearda rolled from the couch, tears falling freely, and threw her arms around Lessa.

“Thank you so much. I had begun to think I would never be able to bear a child.”

“You’re welcome,” Lessa said awkwardly.

Jearda sat next to Lessa and wiped her eyes. She laughed and blotted her eyes again.

"May I, in return, give you some advice?"

Lessa eyed the woman but nodded slightly.

“I've been here for ten long years, playing with politics and power. The queen cannot question the king in public. It will be viewed as a weakness of the most intimate and insurmountable sort," Jearda said.

“What?”

"Oh, I'm sorry if I am mistaken, but it seemed that the two of you..."

Lessa's jaw clamped shut and she stared straight ahead. Her emotions riled into a knot and sank low. "I have to go home," she told Storm.

Early the next morning Lessa was seated upon a massive black horse riding into Geldur. The fog of her breath streamed from her face just as it did from her mounts. Not many people were in the streets before the sun rose, especially this late in the year. With the way clear, and Storm’s directions from the sky, Lessa easily found her way to the prison she had been held in.

She tied her horse to the fence out front, covering her reluctance with decisiveness Lessa strode to the front door and pounded her fist on it.

“Who calls?” A guard’s voice from the other side called.

“Open the door,” Lessa said flatly.

“Open the door?” he replied incredulously.

A spy hole slid open in the door, “I don’t open this door unless…” His voice trailed off and Lessa raised her eyebrow at him.

The spy hole closed again. Lessa waited so long that she raised her fist to knock again when the door opened.

She walked in and wide-eyed prison guards stared at her from all sides.

“There is something here that is mine,” Lessa said in a dangerous purr. To emphasize her words she lifted her bare sword slightly.

All six of the men stared at her silently. “Am I going to have to find it myself or does one of you know where it is?”

“You might be able to find it in the… Well. We don’t like going in that room.” The guard who spoke was young enough that he had to be in his mid-twenties.

“Show me,” she told him.

He nodded while the others stared dumbly. Lessa passed through them and followed the young guard through a door that revealed the interior of the prison. Down the hall, he chose a door off to the right. Lessa stood in the doorway for a long moment. The furnace across the room from her was cool and black, in her memories it glowed orange.

There was the table she had kicked the bald man into. Golathar stood there, behind it. And the chains she had hung from were on the ceiling.

"I can't do this."

"Take a breath, Lessa, you can do this. You must. This room will haunt your dreams unless you overcome it."

“M’lady?” the soldier asked.

Lessa didn’t move. Her heart beat faster and her eyes misted. All she had to do was lift her foot.

“M’lady…”

Lessa raised her foot and took a step forward. She wasn’t drugged this time, she was in control. Her sword was in her hand and she opened her magic, filling herself with its assurance.

Just inside the room, Lessa spotted her sword belt and sheath discarded under the table. She grabbed it and left the room immediately, shutting the door firmly behind her.

“Where is the bald man?” she asked once back in the hall, buckling her sword belt back around her hips. It felt good to have the weight back, and it was getting tedious to carry her sword in her hand at all times.

“He was killed, lady, the same night you escaped.”

“Is there a prisoner here with purple eyes?”

“Well, yes, m’lady.” The guard looked perplexed.

“Take me to him.”

He hesitated. "The sennius man?"

“Now,” Lessa demanded with a single slow word.

He set off deeper into the prison. She followed him down a short set of steps and he halted before a cell with seven men in it.

Lessa scanned the faces until her eyes fell on a massive man, his skin was dark, in sharp contrast his purple eyes stood out.

The men in the cell milled about, staring at Lessa warily. But the man with the purple eyes came to just the other side of the bars and looked down at Lessa. She stared back at him, and a grin cracked his face apart. He chuckled deeply from his belly and muttered a string of words Lessa did not understand.

“Why is he in prison here?” Lessa asked, without looking away from the laughing man.

“I’m not sure, lady. The previous guards didn’t exactly keep records.”

“Let him out,” she demanded.

“Are you-”

“If you don’t, I will.”

The guard pulled a set of keys from his belt and opened the cell, the purple-eyed man strode from the cell with a grin on his face.

Without waiting for the guard Lessa walked from the prison, the purple-eyed man following her.

“What is your name?” she asked the man once they were outside the prison again.

“Name, Thaki,” he said proudly.

“Thaki, you saved me… I’m not sure how much of what I’m saying you understand. But I brought something for you.”

She waved him toward the road where the massive black horse was tethered. Less gestured to the horse. “This is for you, he was Golathar’s horse….”

Thaki tilted his head at her, looked at the horse, back to her, then pointed from the horse to his own chest. Lessa dipped her head. Surprise raised his eyebrows and another grin spread on his face. “Thank you!” he said in heavily accented Kathardrean.

“No, really. Thank you.” Lessa said, putting the reins in Thaki’s hands. He looked around, then pointed at Lessa, and used his fingers to walk through the air, confused.

“It’s alright,” Lessa said, a rueful smirk on her face. Moments later Storm dropped to the roof of the prison, just as she had the night she rescued Lessa.

Thaki’s expression turned to awe and he struggled to keep his horse under control, while still staring at Storm.

Both Lessa and Thaki watched Storm drop noisily into the street, knocking shingles off the roof. Lessa went to Storm’s side and was surprised to see Thaki bowing his head to the dirt when she looked back.

“I like him,” Storm said, eyeing the prostrate man. “Finally, my majesty is being recognized.”

“Oh shut up,” Lessa told her as she climbed the rope loops to the saddle. “Let’s go. The sooner we can leave the sooner we can get back.”

With powerful wingbeats, Storm brought them out of the city and she turned them southeast, toward Haven.