Winter Queen by Amber Argyle
Otec started off at a trot with Matka at his side, the men falling in behind them. They must have kept up that pace for an hour when he saw the smoke, billowing in a black, churning mass.
Finally, they reached the end of the pass and saw the basalt cliffs, which appeared to be made up of hundreds of columns rising vertically out of the sea. A cruel breeze blew off the choppy, dark waters. About half a league to the west, Otec saw the city of Darben.
Gasping for breath and pressing the heel of his hand into the ache in his side, he followed the pillar of smoke rising in the east. He stepped closer to the edge of the steep cliffs. A third of a league away was a village that had been built into a shelf of rock, about halfway between the cliff-top and the beach.
“Matka, bring out your telescope,” he called. She did so and peered through it as he squinted into the distance, trying to make out what was going on through the haze of smoke.
“Down on the beach,” she said breathlessly. “The Idarans are fighting with the Darbens.”
“Our families!” Destin cried. “Are they there? Are they safe?”
“Yes!” she said. “Bound and gagged. The Idarans are forcing them into the boats.”
Otec took off running, the rest of the clanmen right on his heels. Moving along the edge of the mountain that broke off abruptly into cliffs, they scattered an odd mixture of animals—sheep, goats, cattle, horses, and even a donkey. And then Otec recognized the donkey—Thistle. The Raiders had taken the animals they’d wanted and abandoned the rest.
Otec heard it first, the screams and shouts of battle, followed by the sound of knives and blades doing their dark work. “Ivar, Ake, and Arvid, stay in the back!” he hollered without turning to look for them.
They reached an archway at the head of a narrow flight of stairs that had been carved into the sides of the cliffs, with nothing but air between the men and the abrupt drop-off. About halfway down was the village of Darbenmore.
Coughing at the smoke billowing into his face, Otec took out his axe and shield and rushed down the zigzagging stairs. He charged headlong into the wide shelf the village had been built upon. The houses were made of wood, and most were burning, pyres for the dead he could see turning to ash inside. He shot past the first house, the heat reaching out with fat, greedy fingers to singe his hair and blast heat against his skin.
Standing in the center of the main path was a woman. She screamed at the sight of the clanmen, soot mixing with the tears streaming down her face. The men simply parted around her while she continued screaming.
On the other side of the village were more stairs. The clanmen started down, and without the smoke to block the view, Otec felt dizzy at the sharp drop-off. Below, fewer than fifty Darben men were retreating toward the stairs. When they saw the clanmen they backed off, coming to a stop at the bottom of the cliffs.
The Idarans saw the clanmen too, and boats loaded with stolen cargo began pulling away.
Otec was the first one off the stairs. “Free them or they’re lost to us forever!”
His men charged forward onto the docks, anger giving them power. Otec launched himself at a Raider who was trying to force one of the older women—by the Balance, it was Enrid!—onto a boat. Otec cut him down before he could even turn.
With a swing of his shield, Otec bashed another man’s face in. He passed Enrid his knife and she immediately set about freeing herself and the children.
Otec ducked a jab from a Raider, using his shield to block the other blade. Then he drove his axe through an opening in the man’s guard, hitting him square in the chest. The man fell and did not rise again.
Otec lunged toward another Raider when he heard a scuffle directly behind him. He whipped back around and saw that Enrid had launched herself onto the back of a Raider who must’ve been about to kill Otec. With a primal scream, she drove her knife into his side.
Otec pivoted, his axe arcing toward the man and connecting with his chest. Still screaming, the Raider staggered back and landed with Enrid in the freezing black water.
“Enrid!” Otec cried. The Shyle didn’t know how to swim, and even if they did, their heavy winter clothes would drag them down. He stepped to the edge of the dock and saw dozens of women and children in the water, heads bobbing, mouths gasping. None of them made a sound. Otec jerked off his coat, preparing to go after them, but long poles appeared in front of him.
The men of Darben were lowering long fishing spears, butt first, into the water, drawing the Shyle safely to shore. Choking and sputtering, Enrid held onto a pole.
Otec whipped around, looking for another Raider to kill. But they were all dead. He scanned quickly and found the Argon boys near the back of the docks.
Other clanmen lay belly first, fishing more people out of the water. Otec was just about to help them when he heard someone shout his name.
Pushing his way to the end of the dock, he stared at the boats already in the water, white sails unfurling. His gaze raked over them. Some were nearly full of Raiders who had obviously abandoned their slaves in favor of surviving. Others were loaded with Otec’s people. “Holla, Storm, Wesson, Aldi, Eira, Magnhild, Bothilda, Helka!”
A half dozen voices rose up to answer—he recognized them instantly. He whipped around and saw them. His family. His younger brothers and all his sisters stuffed in a boat, so close he could make out all the details of their faces. It was Holla screaming for him, reaching out even as Storm held her down.
Otec grabbed fistfuls of his hair, not knowing what to do or how to reach them. The remaining boats were sunk or drifting, and he had no idea how to operate one even if they were usable. Determined to reach them one way or another, he stripped off his coat and was starting on his boots when Dobber grabbed his arms. “You can’t swim!”
Otec tried to shrug him off. “It doesn’t matter.”
Matka darted in front of him, her hand up. “Stop!”
“I have to save them! I have to!”
She grabbed his shirt in her fist. “We will. We’ll go after them. I swear it, but jumping in that water will only get you killed.”
Knowing she was right, Otec called out to his family, “I’ll come for you! I won’t give up!” His gaze went to the other boats—the ones with only Raiders inside. He drew his bow from his back. “Clanmen, we’re going to need those boats.”
His men lined up beside him, drew back their bows, and cleared the stolen boats of vermin. When they were drifting, Otec shifted his gaze to the boats moving out to sea. He watched Storm disappear from view.
Otec turned to face his clanmen. Many of them were crying and holding their wives and children in relief. With a quick count, he realized that nearly one hundred of their clan members had been saved. Watching their joy through the lens of his own loss, Otec felt as though his heart was being encased by ice.
“Dobber!” one of the men cried. Otec watched as a woman was pulled from the water, her face pale as death. Coughing wetly, she reached for Dobber, who cried out and ran toward her. She was his mother, the only family he had left.
Otec straightened his shoulders and marched toward the men of Darbenmore. “I need those boats. And I need people who can operate them.”
A man stepped forward. “I will help you, clanman. They killed my wife and daughter, but you saved my son.” The boy he motioned to follow him appeared to be about twelve years of age.
Using hooks, they hauled one of the overturned boats toward shore. Fifteen men of Darbenmore helped them haul in the boats they could reach, and then climb in those boats and go after the vessels that had drifted farther into the bay.
Otec locked gazes with Destin. “You and the rest of the men, help the Darbens bring in the boats.”
He turned then to see Dobber set his mother gently down on the shore. The waves lapped hungrily at her feet, as if they had tasted her once and craved to do so again. Otec could see she was dying. Though he didn’t want to, he moved toward his friend’s side.
“All your life,??
Otec’s mouth fell open. He should not be hearing this. He started slowly moving away.
Dobber shook his head. “They killed Father as if he was nothing. And then they looked at me, and I knew they would kill me too.”
She turned away from him. “I’ll be with my real sons soon. And you’ll remain here, alone. Because that’s what you chose when you abandoned us.”
Otec felt a shell crunch under his feet. Dobber whipped around and their gazes locked. Dobber cried out. “Don’t—don’t tell anyone.”
Otec could only nod.
His mother laughed. “He won’t have to. You’ll wear the mark of your shame for the rest of your life.”
“Dobber, she’s not thinking clearly. She’s—”
But she only cackled and then her eyes shut. Her breathing grew increasingly labored, and then it stopped. The rising tide kept coming, stealing her back into its embrace.
“Dobber, I left too, when I probably should have stayed. It doesn’t mean—”
Dobber rose to his feet, a growing darkness in his gaze. “Don’t.” He pushed past Otec without looking back.
It was agreed that Enrid and the other women would stay in Darbenmore until Otec sent word that it was safe for them to return to the Shyle. The remaining clanmen piled into ten boats, each carrying around fifteen men. Nineteen men from Darbenmore came with them, to work the single-square-sailed vessels and navigate the mystery of the ocean.
The men of Darben assured Otec that they could maneuver their vessels much faster than any Raider. The plan was to come upon the Raiders and flank them on both sides, then board the boats, kill the Raiders, and set the women free. No one discussed the fact that the Shyle men couldn't swim, but the knowledge hung over them like rot on a carcass.
Otec made sure Destin was in the boat with him—he didn’t want the man sowing dissension. Otec also kept the Argon boys close; they mostly ate and slept, so it wasn’t too hard to keep an eye on them.
Dobber chose a boat as far away from Otec as possible. It was probably better that way. Otec still couldn’t look at him without thinking about how he’d abandoned his family.
From his position at the rudder, Halfed, the Darben man in Otec’s boat, pointed to the dark smudge of clouds in the distance. “If they come this way, we’ll have to beach the boats—they’re not meant to handle a storm.”
“Where?” Otec asked. They had been skimming past the abrupt cliffs all day, zigzagging back and forth to tack into the wind.
The man squinted at the cliff’s base and didn’t respond. But he kept dividing his attention between the clouds and the base of the cliffs.
“How long before we see the clan lands?” Destin asked again.
Halfed looked at the cliffs, then the sails. “Tomorrow, maybe. I’ve never gone this far.”
Matka cut up the fish she’d managed to catch and handed it to the six men in their small fishing vessel. The rolling of the ocean seemed to have no effect on her. She pushed some fish into Otec’s hands—it was raw as they had no way to cook it. “You should eat,” she told him. “You’re going to need your strength.”
Wishing for something hot to ease the bone-deep cold of his hands, he grimaced and forced some of the fish down his throat. He watched her make her way to the back of the boat. He stood to follow her, carefully easing around the sleeping men, who had wedged up against the gunwales to get out of the wind. He made his way to Matka’s side and washed his hands in the freezing water, then splashed his face, the salt stinging his eyes. “I swear, someday I’ll find a way to make Idara pay for what they’ve done to you, to me, to my family,” he said.
She hacked off a piece of the fish head, forced a hook through it, and tossed it overboard. “You will pay the highest price for your hatred.” She chuckled bitterly. “I should know.”
He looked at her, really looked at her. Her hair had grown some in the month since he’d known her, but it still looked like a boy’s hair. And all Otec really knew was that she’d risked her life to save his, to save his clan, his family. “Who are you?”
A sad smile graced her face. “I am what I said. A highwoman, daughter of a slave.”
Otec shook his head, not understanding. She closed her eyes as if overwhelmed. He stared at the gray ocean meeting the gray sky. Slavery. That was the future in store for his sisters.
Matka pierced a fish’s eye on a hook and tossed it overboard. “When they realized my sister and I had the Sight,” she said so softly he almost couldn’t hear her words over the wind, “we were taken from our mother. Forbidden from speaking the language of our homeland. I only saw my mother once more before she died.”
A tear strayed down Matka’s cheek. She didn’t bother wiping it away as she stabbed another piece of meat with a hook. “I made sure the man who murdered her paid for what he’d done.”
One of the lines went taut. Matka wrapped some ripped cloth over her palms and hauled in the wriggling silver fish, then bashed it on the head with the blunt side of the knife. “That’s how I know about hatred, about how it cankers your soul. Revenge does nothing to ease the pain, only twists you into something you come to hate.”
She sliced through the fish, pulling out its guts and bones. “When I first came to the clan lands, I saw kindness and beauty and love. I didn’t understand it at first—I felt like I was being used for a purpose I couldn’t yet understand. But when I was in the mountains with you, I realized that’s just how the clans are. I never wanted to leave. But I wasn’t sure I could abandon my sister. Even if she and I don’t get along.”
“What made you change your mind?” Otec said softly.
“You,” Matka answered without looking at him. “And Holla.” Her voice broke. “When I realized Jore had lied to me—that I had unwittingly been a part of this war—I knew I couldn’t let you die for it.”
And Otec had cursed her for it. “And your sister?”
Matka finally wiped her eyes. “She’s lost to me now. She’ll think I’m dead. And if she learns different, it will only harm her.”
Otec frowned. “Why?”
Matka laughed bitterly. “My sister doesn’t remember much of the apathy of our father. Or the love of our mother. She remembers the temple of fire and the palace. Incense and idols. And she wants to be high priestess, the master of it all. As high priestess, she would be second only to the king.”
“She can’t see what Idara has done?” Otec thought the girl a fool, but he didn’t want to hurt Matka.
“Idara will spread the religion of the Goddess around the world—Suka thinks it our duty.”
Matka and Otec sat quietly for a time, chewing raw fish. “What did you promise them, Matka?” he said finally. Not wanting to upset her, he didn’t use the word “fairies.”
She rinsed her hands in the ocean. “Our firstborn daughter. Which is why you and I can never be, Otec. Because I would not curse my child with their dark attention. I would not force her into that kind of slavery.”
Matka looked up at him, her eyes moist. “What did you promise her?” Not wanting to answer, he looked away. “Otec?” she prodded. “She wouldn’t have talked to you unless she wanted something.”
He sighed. “I promised to save you. In return, she helped me drive back the Raiders until help could arrive.”
Matka grunted. “Save me so that I might live to bear you a daughter.” She stared at the knife. “My story hurts—the telling of it. It’s like cutting out pieces of myself and passing them around.” She sniffed. “But you need to know me, Otec, all of it. So you understand why.”
He thought then of the secret he carried—of Jore’s death. Perhaps it was wrong to keep it from her. “Matka, Jore . . . he—”
“I don’t want to know,” she said firmly. She stabbed into the fish again, then cut and sliced and tore.
Otec watched her, knowing he had lost her before he’d ev
A hand shook Otec’s shoulder. He looked up into Destin’s face. The man nodded once and then went about waking the rest of the clanmen.
Rubbing his eyes, Otec sat up, noticing he was warm on the side of his body where Matka was wedged against him. He automatically scanned for the Argon boys and saw them huddled together for warmth.
He peered into the predawn sky, which was still more black than gray. “What? What is it?”
Halfed looked back at him. “I caught sight of the other ships before sunset.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Otec growled.
The man grunted. “Because none of you would have slept, and you all look as if you’ve been scraped from the bottom of a boat.”
Otec held out his hand for Matka’s telescope. He saw the boats and could make out individuals through the lens.
“We caught up to them,” Destin said.
“Of course we did.” Halfed sniffed. “They don’t have the men of Darben to steer for them.”
Otec’s gaze snagged on lights beyond the boats. “What is that?”
Matka took the telescope from him and peered through. Her mouth hardened. “The Idaran Armada.”
The Argon boys scrambled forward at that, trying to get a glimpse of the ships that were supposedly the size of a small mountain.
That meant they were back at the clan lands. Otec rose to his feet, looking toward the cliffs, which weren’t as high as in Darben. “That’s Reisen.”
Matka swung the telescope toward the shore. “There are two distinct camps.”
“So this is where the army is clashing?” Ivar asked.
She nodded.
The boat continued to gain on the Raiders. “When we get close enough, we’ll hook their boats and you’ll have to jump across,” Halfed said.
Matka looked at the cliffs through her telescope as the clanmen shifted and pulled out their axes and shields.