Huntress: Part I

All around her was an eerie, unnatural silence.

But then Kaede reached down into the boat and lifted out a long oar, dipping it into the azure sea to propel the small craft away from the shore.

The boat cut through the water, leaving the shore behind, and just before the destination came into view, the vision ended.

Her heart was pounding, and there was an acrid taste in her mouth.

In the ensuing six years, there had never been a reason for her to make the long trek to the North Tower, for the only students invited into that inner sanctum were those who could perform the rituals they were taught.

She knew she had only been allowed to remain at the Academy because her father was the King’s Chancellor, and her mother—before she married him—had been a sage.

The phrases irritated her, reminding her of countless hours spent huddled over her books, feeling as though they were only mocking her.

She reached for the rope hanging from the mouth of the iron dragon embedded in the stone wall, and pulled.

Her black hair, which was normally coiled in two careful braids tucked against the nape of her neck, was coming loose as though she had rushed through her morning rituals.

Kaede followed Sister Nara through the circular ante­chamber to the inner redwood doors.

On the left was a phoenix, its tail feath­ers curling toward its beak, wings extended: the sign of har­mony.

This year alone my guards have uncovered three assassination attempts—those southern lords are getting more brazen by the day.

The Academy was largely insulated from such things, but Kaede knew that some in the Kingdom were already going hungry, and hunger led to unrest—especially when the wealthy continued to eat well.

“I thought it was a hoax at first.”

Irritated by the interruption, the King answered brusquely, “There have been some sightings—nothing definite, mind you—but it seems that some of the Xi have been coming across the borders into our lands.”

The man brought a box with him; he said it had come from the Fairy Queen herself. Inside the box there was a medallion and a scroll. The scroll was written in the language of the Xi, which we could not read. Lord Raiden informed me that the scroll appeared to be genuine, and in that case, we had no choice but to bring it here. This morning, the Council deciphered it.

We believe that the unchanging seasons—and even those creatures who have been crossing into our lands—we believe that these are all connected. You have learned, in your lessons here, that we are all part of one vast motion of energies. Something is disrupting the natural flow of things. The meridians that run across our world have been...bent...somehow.

“They’re nearly ready to launch a civil war. I cannot leave my kingdom for months just to gallivant off on an invitation to the Fairy Queen’s court—an invitation that says nothing about why she’s inviting us after all this time, I might add.”

We need to reestablish relations with the Xi; it is a matter of supreme importance.

“We have also consulted the oracle stones about the invitation, and they called for Taisin, your classmate, to accompany the prince.”

It was a small rebellion, but an unmistakable one, and Lord Raiden felt a familiar frustration rising in him.

Kaede’s cheeks burned at the dismissive tone in her father’s voice.

Resentment seethed inside her, acidic and sour.

Taisin glanced at Sister Ailan as if to ask permission, and when her teacher gave an almost imperceptible nod, she said haltingly, “I—I saw you on a beach—a beach made of ice.”

It was disorienting, for in her life at the Academy, she had rarely noticed Kaede before, and now, sitting there across the table, Kaede was simply another girl in a black Academy robe, the plain stone buttons marching across her left shoulder as they did across her own.

For one brief, glorious moment, Kaede felt vindicated, but then her father said, “She is my daughter. She is not of age. She does not go where I do not permit.”

Kaede fumed, but before she could rebut him, the Mistress said coolly, “Undoubtedly that is true. But this journey is every bit as important—perhaps even more important—than your plans for her.

The Mistress was not surprised by Kaede’s willfulness. That had always been the one quality that hampered Kaede’s ability to work through the rituals.

The Mistress was not surprised by Kaede’s willfulness. That had always been the one quality that hampered Kaede’s ability to work through the rituals.

The sea, visible ahead of her in a gray swathe only a few shades darker than the sky, moved in giant, undulating swells.

She glanced at Kaede with quizzical brown eyes. “What are you doing down here? Your work shift with me isn’t until tomorrow. Maesie has you today, doesn’t she?”

“They came in the middle of last night. The ship sailed back to Seatown as soon as the King disembarked. They wished to keep it secret.”

“I can’t do what my father asks—I just can’t,” she said vehemently.

The smallest—an ornately jeweled dagger—could fit into an ankle holster; the largest was more accurately a small sword.

Years ago, she had affixed hooks into the wall and punctured holes in the target to hang it.

She rose, counted out twenty paces from the target, and shifted the hilt in her hand so that the blade was pointing backward toward the sea.

She lifted the knife; it was heavy, dependable.

Then she went back to the target and retrieved the knife, bringing it to Kaede.

“Yes. It will be entrusted to you. It may be a talisman of some sort—to mark you as a proper guest of the Xi.”

Every sage who took the vows was given a mark just above her wrist: a stylized symbol slightly larger than a gold coin.

“Teacher,” she began in a hesitant voice, “I must ask you something.”

“I felt—I think that I”—she looked away, biting her lip, and finally she blurted it out quickly—“I think that I was in love with Kaede. In my vision. But that is—that can’t happen, can it? I want to be a sage, and I know that all sages take vows of—of celibacy. Does this mean that I—that I will never become a sage?”

“You are thinking about this too analytically. Your vision is the truth, but it is not the future. It may be that you don’t yet understand what you saw.”

“Teacher, I want to be a sage more than anything I’ve ever wanted in this world. I don’t want to jeopardize that by falling in love with anyone.”

If Kaede comes on this journey—if my vision comes true— then—" She broke off, remembering the dreadful fear roiling in the pit of her stomach when she saw Kaede leaving the beach behind.