Huntress: Part V

When they stopped to sleep, she dreamed of ashes, drifts upon drifts of them, covering the Wood in a stale scent of burning.

Kaede held her breath as her horse picked his way across, seemingly oblivious to the precipitous drop beneath them.

Far below another river churned, and above them birds with vast wingspans shrieked, their calls echoing down the rocky canyon.

From time to time sunlight shone in tall shafts through the foliage, and then there were stretches of shadow, or brief squalls of rain and mist.

At last they came to a spring that bubbled out of a tiny little cleft in the rocky red hillside, and the Huntsman dismounted and knelt down to it, cupping up a handful of water.

She fell in and out of the same dream she always had: ashes falling over the land, settling into the crevices between tree roots, dusting over every unfurled bud, smothering each hint of life.

“It will give you strength,” he said, noticing her grimace.

“Our queen is the embodiment of our land. It has been this way since the dawn of time, and it will be so until our last queen dies.”

She is not like your king. She is not born into her station. Each queen chooses her successor, and each chosen successor must undergo many rituals to prepare for her duties.

When the chosen one is ready, her predecessor goes willingly to her death.

His heart constricted at the thought of his queen being taken before her time.

The Huntsman gave her a horn cup with a leather strap affixed to it.

He did not mention the possibility that the judgment might render her incapable of returning.

She rode toward the golden trees as quickly as she could, but it was noon before she felt the shade of the first tree on her back, and she paused beneath its limbs to eat a dry biscuit and get her bearings.

She felt his muscles trembling as she unsaddled him, and he pranced as if he wanted to leave.

She finally dozed off a little before dawn, only to wake up when she heard the horse whinny loudly.

She was suddenly aware of how alone she was in this queer place, and she had the uncanny sensation that the singing trees had been singing about her.

It was a chilly morning, but she felt perspiration rise on her skin.

The horn, a speckled, ivory spiral, protruded from between black eyes that were undeniably intelligent.

The horn, a speckled, ivory spiral, protruded from between black eyes that were undeniably intelligent.

From one angle, he might look like lichen or moss; but from another, he was as stunning as a phoenix, his coat sliding from gold to silver to fire.

Her knees skidding across the floor, her hand reaching for her weapon.

Harmony: This was the heart of nature. Every living being—plant, animal, human, fay—had its place in the cycle of life and death. In this cycle, countless creatures worked in tandem as well as against one another. All of these beings formed a complicated whole that shifted and changed in order to maintain that harmony.

Her stockpiling of power had wreaked havoc on nature.

Her stockpiling of power had wreaked havoc on nature.

The experience of killing Elowen—of death on her hands—would be imprinted on her always.

If the Queen died without an heir, the ash that had blanketed Taninli would spread, sifting into the cracks and corners of the Wood, sinking into the Nir until the river became thick and slow.

As the blood spilled over the Queen’s tongue, Kaede’s world lurched.

The Queen leaned toward her, and she was so close now that Kaede could see the Queen’s pupils dilating.

The Queen had no intention of keeping him for long, but he was so different from her many courtiers, with their elegant clothes and cool, appraising blue eyes.

The light grew until the Queen was bright as a star; she was the brightest, strongest star in a constellation, and every living creature was in orbit around her.

But even the Fairy Queen was not invulnerable, for even she could be wholly changed by the smile of a handsome young man on a hot summer day.

Con spent many hours with the Fairy Queen, discussing the terms of a new treaty between their lands, for they both agreed that the time of isolation should end.

Though they could have joined the revelry in the streets below, they were content to simply be near each other, for they both sensed that something precious was coming to an end.

“I understand, you know,” Kaede said resolutely, though it felt like her heart might break.

“We’ll have to give you some sort of title,” he mused. “We can’t keep calling you the Chancellor’s daughter.”

“How would we know?” she cried, exasperated.

“All the maps are inaccurate.”

There seemed to be no sign of the malignant Wood that had taken their friends Tali and Pol, and nearly taken Shae, as well.

“Con,” she said, and gave him a tentative smile. “Well met.”