The High Queen Part I:

The Forest

She rode in silence.  The news was still sinking into her brain; she was still in the stage of denial.  The letter had only arrived the previous morning and she was already halfway there.  It was a cold afternoon; the trees were sparkling with frost from the night.  Occasionally she thought she glimpsed eyes following her, but that was ridiculous.  Nothing would be sitting in a bare, cold tree watching her progress; that would be silly.  The soldiers around her picked up the pace slightly.  They were pushing to reach the palace by the next morning.  They would have another cold night spent out under the stars, or rather, the soldiers would.  She would sleep in the carriage which rolled along behind them.  She had refused to sit in the carriage, insisting that the handmaidens take her place.  She hated carriages, they were bumpy and uncomfortable.  She preferred to ride whenever possible and while she still could.  In a way she was happy to leave the Academy.  It was right in the middle of exams and she hated tests, especially the ones given by her decrepit history professor.

As night began to fall, she shivered as the cold seeped into her fur-lined cloak.  The soldiers pushed on, holding a steady pace in effort to get back faster.  Far off she heard the cry of a wolf.  It was answered by another, then silence.  As the light faded from the forest the soldiers began to light torches, careful not to scare the horses.  Above them, mighty trees towered, their branches bare and twisted like some evil mage from children’s tales.  Silver light seemed to glimmer far off, and then disappeared almost as quickly as it appeared.  There had been no sound since the wolves cry almost an hour ago.  Strange, she thought.  Again she had the feeling unseen eyes were watching her.

The soldiers built a large fire where they all gathered.  The three women stood close to each other, a ring of soldiers keeping them from straying far from the fire.  The captain, a tall, fierce man was deep in thought, his face grim.  He was wary and ordered a double watch.  She knew he was expecting trouble.  Surprised it hadn’t happened sooner, actually.  The fire was scorching them, they were too close.  She couldn’t move much further away without trampling on someone’s toes.  Even a slight woman like herself would injure a man wearing leather while she wore steel-tipped heels.  She was clothed in more metal than was comfortable, considering the weather.  She hadn’t had much choice, however.  As soon as they came for her they bound her in leather mounted with steel plates to protect her from something she could only imagine.  She was worried about rusting shut.  The metal hindered more than helped her, and right now she felt as though she was cooking on a spit.

Dinner consisted of a pair of rabbits snared while she roasted in front of the fire.  There were, of course, greens, but not nearly enough for everyone.  They had been brought from the Academy kitchens and were already turning brown and withered.  There was grain and beans, which were mixed into a kind of paste, seasoned with spices imported from the hotlands.  The hard bread they shared was softened by mixing it with the bean paste and produced a rather enjoyable taste.  She turned her nose up at the rabbit stew the men ate.  Her handmaidens knew better than to offer her theirs.

Since she had been a child she had been unable to eat the flesh of any living creature.  She had tried, when it was first placed before her, but had been unable to physically touch it.  Her parents had been surprised, but hadn’t pushed her to eat meat, as though they understood some strange secret about her and accepted it.

The strange silver light appeared again for a split second.  She caught a glimpse of it through the rows of soldiers surrounding her.  No one else seemed to notice, or care.  It was curious, she wanted to investigate, but knew it would be dangerous.  The forest itself was safe, she could feel it.  It was what lurked in the forest that worried the men.

The night passed uneventfully, she was awake well before dawn, staring through the window of the carriage she shared with her sleeping handmaidens.  She felt as though something was drawing her out.  She wanted to explore the forest, but knew she wouldn’t be permitted.  The unseen eyes were back, although in a way they had never left.  The silver glimmer came yet again, this time much closer than before.  She drew away from the curtain, startled.  There was a cry from the men outside and she turned as the door was pulled open.

It was Gerad, come to tell her they would be starting their journey again.  She woke her sleeping handmaidens and they helped her strap the steel back onto her body.  It was cold, she wanted to rip it off and fling it out the window, but knew she couldn’t.  She left her handmaidens as they arranged themselves for the journey and stepped out into the snow.  It had been trampled during the night, but she could almost make out the imprint of a soft shoe, unlike those of her soldiers.  She knew it was related to the silver light.

Zaisar, her black mare was brought to her and she quickly mounted; arms and legs stiff from the ride and the metal that covered them.  They started off with a clatter.  The men around her were weary, as if expecting trouble.  A feeling of anxiousness hung in the air so thick it made her stomach churn.  The loaf of bread and the apple she had been given for breakfast were hard and cold.  They had been kept close to the fire all night, to prevent freezing.  The water as well, but it tasted old and stale.  She thought there might be a brook nearby; her imagination could almost taste the clear, cool water.

They rode at a steady pace, not daring to go too fast in the snow.  She knew before it happened.  An iron fist closed around her insides and she quickly threw herself from Zaisar.  She landed hard, a snow-covered rock denting the iron shoulder guard so that it dug painfully into her bone, bruising her.  Hastily she wrestled with the binding, freeing it from her arm.  The battle had already started, the snow around her was churning with hooves, she had to be careful not to get under them.  Zaisar reared, pawing the air with her forelegs.  The black horse had taken the arrow that was meant for her, she could see it protruding from her flank.  The attack was focused around the carriage, they didn’t recognize her then.  The arrow Zaisar had taken was only a stray, meant for anyone.  The armour had served a purpose after all, to disguise her.  She rolled to her feet as Gerad came to her, Zaisar’s reins in hand; ready to carry her to safety, despite her wound.  She swung up into the saddle and Gerad chopped his way through, leading them from the fray.

They were pursued of course; some thought they were deserters, or perhaps soldiers fleeing for backup.  Gerad let her go ahead and swung back to get rid of the tail.  There was really no place to go, with a wounded horse and her protection gone.  She rode blindly, letting the black mare choose their path.  She could hear the distant sounds of men shouting and blades screaming as they met in the cold air.  Still she rode, ploughing deeper into the forest.

The shouts from Gerad brought her back to reality.  He came through the trees, pushing his silver stallion to his limits in the knee-deep snow.  He was bleeding heavily from several wounds.  Before he fell he told her to go on, get back to the palace no matter what the cost.  He had failed, they were coming for her.

He died in the snow and she could do nothing for him.

Zaisar was starting to falter; she could sense a lather starting to form on the horse.  There was nowhere to go.  The eyes were still there so this time she turned to them.  She dismounted and tried to run to the trees.  She knew it would happen again, but this time there was nowhere to hide.  The pain laced through her side and she fell into the snow, bleeding. 

Darkness overcame her.