Page 9 of Magick and Lead
5
ESSA
Istood at the end of the long stone hall, holding court. Behind me sat a tall, wooden chair Dagar had dragged in from an old, abandoned manor house nearby, a stand-in for a throne. On my head was a crown of willow branches Pocha had woven. One by one, people of the surrounding communities came to me with their concerns and grievances. Today, two farmers had a dispute over ownership of a wayward goat. A little girl had been orphaned by a golenae attack and needed a new home. A merchant was requesting a loan to help him rebuild the only inn in his small town.
I fielded their requests one by one, providing whatever help, guidance, or justice I could, then sent them away—hating every minute of it.
The village we were nearest to, Murrum, had been Lure’s hometown, and Lure assured us they would look after us and shelter us from the roving bands of Lacunae and golenae. And Lure had been right. The villagers had set us up here, at this ancient stone longhouse that for decades had sat vacant as a sort of museum, sacred to the local people. They had kept our presence here secret—at first. But as the days wore on, rumors of our presence had spread, and people began to come to mebegging for help, for food, and for guidance. For the first week, I turned them all away.
“Tell them I’m no queen,” I’d told my friends. “My mother was the queen.”
But the people kept coming. At last, Pocha took me aside.
“You may not feel like their queen, Essa,” she said. “You may notwantto be their queen. But that doesn’t change the fact that youaretheir queen. Your mother is gone. Golenae are ravaging the countryside. The people need you.”
After that, I’d begun holding court—just for an hour or two per week, and only for the select few who knew of my presence.
The rest of our time was spent searching for our missing friends and gathering information. What was the state of the Palace Charcain and the capital, Issastar? What were our enemies doing? How many loyal Skrathan and their dragons still survived? How many crown guards remained?
Connecting with the Skrathan had been easy. I’d reached them telepathically via our dragons and instructed them to remain where they were, encamped in the safety of the Yrdam Mountains, where they could heal the wounded and await further orders.
We’d gathered the other information over the passing weeks through a series of clandestine missions and pitched battles. With each enemy captured and interrogated, and with each friendly citizen we spoke with, a picture of the devastation wrought by the traitorous Gray Brothers and the rebel nobility had emerged. The traitors controlled Issastar and much of the kingdom. Those loyal to me were few and scattered. The commoners were hunkered down in their villages, terrified of the golenae. Livestock had been slaughtered. Men and women had been snatched up by the unholy beasts in broad daylight and ripped apart. The people could barely work their fields and feed themselves, much less help me defeat the nobles.
In short, we were greatly outmatched in a land overrun with monsters.
My only comfort at the moment was that this session of holding court would be over soon, and I’d be able to eat a meal and go flying with Othura. The only peace to be found these days was in the sky—when flying golenae weren’t around, at least.
“One more,” Pocha said from the back of the room, and she opened the door, admitting a powerfully built, bald-headed man of about thirty years old. He walked up to me and my makeshift throne, knelt, and bowed low.
“My Queen.”
I nodded to him. “Rise, friend. This isn’t Charcain, and I’m not my mother.”
“Indeed, may her soul fly free,” the man said.
“How can I help you?” I asked, trying not to appear as impatient as I felt, as hunger gnawed at my belly.
“I come with news,” the man said. “Yesterday my village suffered a golenae attack. There were dozens of them. We had the elders and the children holed up in the temple, but it caught on fire and there were too many to fight off?—”
“What village was this?” Lure asked from behind me.
“Sorry. Eama. On the east side of the lake. It looked like we were all going to be slaughtered, Your Majesty. Then, out of nowhere, an Admite came, flying in a red plane.”
A wave washed over me, a chill that stuttered my heart and made my breath catch. I felt my face burn red as Pocha, Lure, and Dagar all watched me.
“An Admite?” I said, the words coming out a whisper.
“He fought off the golenae,” the man went on. “First firing his cannons from the sky, then battling them with his necromancer weapons and finally with a sword. Fought like a dragon, he did, Your Majesty. He saved us all.”
“Might be Kit,” Dagar said—blurting what everyone was thinking.
I shot him a venomous glare, and Pocha elbowed him hard enough to double him over.
“Did the man give his name?” Lure asked.
The man shook his head. “No. But he asked about your whereabouts, Your Majesty. Then he flew off again, just as quick as he’d appeared. I talked to folks on the journey here and apparently he’s visited other places, too, fighting the golenae and the Lacunae and asking about the queen. Folks in our village have taken to calling him The Lover. Because of the red plane, ya see. And because—forgive me, but when he spoke of you…”
I shut my eyes, pressing my fingers to my throbbing temples. I’d vowed to get my revenge on Kit—Charlie. But even though this information might help me find him, I didn’t want to hear any more. I especially didn’t want to hear that he was looking for me. Or that people were calling him—of all cursed names—The Lover.
