True North [True North series book 1/3]

Thoridor’s tent was cold and dark. I don’t know why I had expected the fire to be on, as he wasn’t here, but the place seemed extra eerie now. Warrian focussed on building the fire, while I looked for ways to make the makeshift bed I had used the last time I had stayed here more comfortable.

Suddenly, there was some rustling outside the door, and someone entered. At first I thought it was Morai, but when she approached, I recognized her as the other female from the first day — their mother. The Queen.

I shot Warrian a helpless look, and bowed my head.

“Sire,” Warrian said, and bowed too.

“My daughter tells me you speak,” she said, looking at me.

I nervously straightened back up, careful not to meet her eyes when I looked at her. Scared to speak out of turn, I just nodded.

“So speak,” the Queen urged.

“Yes, Sire,” I stammered.

“Have you eaten?” the Queen asked, looking at Warrian accusatorially.

“She has,” he said, “we just got back.” “And your garments, are they still wet?” the Queen asked.

I looked down. I hadn’t even thought about my clothes. With everything that had happened, I had stopped feeling the heavy cold of the wet fur-lined leather I was dressed in. The Queen approached, and grabbed onto the hood of my coat.

“Follow me,” she ordered, and right before she took me outside, she turned around to address Warrian. “Change,” she simply stated, and nodded toward one of the chests. Then she took me back to the tent Morai had entered earlier.

In the Queen’s tent, I was once again stripped of my clothes. The Queen nodded toward cloth room divider in the back of the tent, and I found a large wooden tub behind it. The Queen took a kettle from the stove, and poured its contents into the bath, before gesturing for me to get it.

The water was only slightly warm, but to my frigid skin, it felt like one of the hot springs from back home. I scrubbed myself until my skin was red and sensitive to the touch. The wound on my arm was barely visible anymore, and although the skin tissue itself felt numb, the flesh around it seemed barely affected by the trauma from before.

I dried myself and put on the clothes the Queen had laid out for me — plain wool undergarments, a long, wool tunic, some fur-lined leather pants like the ones I had worn before, and a brightly colored hooded dress. She had put out new boots too, which I was especially grateful for. Back home, we only got one pair of boots each — so if they were still wet from hunting the day before, I’d just wear wet boots all day.

I exited the bathing quarters to find the Queen sitting by the fire.

“Morai tells me you think you’ve solved the prophecy,” she said, patting a chair beside her. She pushed a cup of tea my way. I sat down, making a point of being as respectful as I could.

I hesitated before answering. “You may speak freely,” the Queen assured me, and there was an unexpected kindness in her eyes.

I looked at her for a moment. She was beautiful, like her children. Upon first glance, she barely looked old enough to be their sister, but as I studied her, I could see the wisdom she held. The colored markings on her face seemed to tell a story too — although I couldn’t decipher them.

“I think Morai is who the prophecy is about,” I said, gauging the Queen’s reaction, “or maybe… you, your Majesty.”

The Queen laughed, making her look young and joyful. I almost felt like I was having tea with a friend.

“It is certainly not me,” the Queen said, and glanced over to a corner of the tent, where Morai was sleeping. “and I doubt it’s my daughter. We feel the subject of the prophecy is likely winged — most likely an Aerial Ardanian.”

“May I ask a question?” I asked hesitantly.

The Queen nodded.

“Morai spoke of a curse,” I began hesitantly, “what is the curse your people bear?”

The Queen’s face turned solemn. “I trust you’ve been told of the Sorael?” she asked, and waited for my confirmation before continuing.

“About the males too?” she asked. I furrowed my brows.

“I don’t think so,” I said. “Well, all of our younglings are born with a gift, I’m sure you’ve seen the different looks of the Ardanians,” the Queen began. “We’ve always been like that — it’s a way to adapt to our surroundings.”

“There’s always been a monarchy too — the firstborn son takes his father’s crown when he passes, or hands it down willingly. One of the ancient Kings had twin sons — identical in every way. Except one was born before the other; the Crown Prince. His brother, however, felt he had the same right to the crown, as they were created and carried completely alike. Each of the sons found their mates, and one day, the King announced it was time to hand over the crown to his firstborn son. During the crowning, the second twin suddenly stepped up and killed both his brother and father. The people were beyond shocked, but amidst the chaos, there was first son’s wife.”

“She was utterly calm as she stepped forward, and revealed her true identity. She claimed to be an Eldrim — a type of witch that was assumed to have gone extinct ages ago. She cursed the new King, and his people, before burning herself to the ground. She made it so that all Ardanians lose pieces of themselves every time they shift, becoming more and more stuck to their adapted side — more animalistic. Where our people were once able to shift freely, and use their powers to make the best use of our surroundings, now, shifting takes a huge toll.”

“Once a red-mooned cycle, all unmated females do indeed travel to the Terrestrial palace, but so do the unmated males. After the ritual is completed, the females that are rejected by the Crown Prince join the unmated males and go to the battlefield. There, they must fight each other. They fight until the last moon turns white again, and then, whoever is left standing, gets to live another red-mooned cycle. Participants often have to resort to killing their kin in order to stay alive.”

I cringed at the thought. “What a cruel tradition,” I mumbled.

“Indeed,” the Queen agreed, “but all who stay behind, or hide, are cursed to perish on the spot.”

“And the female from the prophecy will break this curse?” I asked.

“It is she whom shall crown a new king and make a nation whole again. She who has known loss, agony and sacrifice like no other shall be the bearer of peace,” the Queen recited.

I looked at Morai, peacefully asleep in her bed.

“Has she known loss, agony and sacrifice like no other?” I asked carefully. The Queen opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a terrifying ruckus coming from outside the tent. It sounded like cloth being ripped to shreds, wood splintering, and growling and roaring.

“Warrian!” I yelled, and ran out of the tent, and into the darkness.