Chapter Fourteen

Photo source: Ilya on Flickr

The sun peeked out from behind the hills and with it, Muirgen stirred. The others took a bit longer getting up, but she remedied that as she opened bags and started throwing pots and pans aside. Artair yawned and smiled at her, amused by her wakeup call, but Evan groaned and grunted at her for the next few minutes. They went through each of their bags, pulling out necessary items. They had to keep things light. Muirgen cinched her scabbard around her waist, fastened her wool clock around her shoulders and kept her book and one additional dress in her bag before tossing the rest into the carriage. They kept a lot of the meat and weapons, but most of the herbs, bread, and fruit still with them was abandoned. As the sun fully rose above the hills they attached their baggage to the horses. Constricted by her skirts, Artair helped Muirgen launch onto the horse, waiting until she had adjusted her skirt before mounting behind her. He grabbed the reins, both arms around her and snapped them as he nudged the horse forward with his heels. His chest was warm against her back. She closed her eyes, trying to control whatever it was that she was feeling. It was inconvenient and illogical.

Artair leaned forward, whispering, “Are you regretting leaving the carriage behind?”

She straightened, breaking the contact of his chest. “No.” She severed the link and focused on keeping the walls down, and Artiar didn’t press. She closed her eyes once more, breathing deeply. Uthyr had been right. She didn’t know why she was reacting so…like she had just been introduced to the Green Man himself. Her heart skittered, she could barely think. She knew it was ridiculous and that she should focus on other things, but all she wanted to do was to lean back into his chest, to enjoy the feeling of his arms fully enveloping her. She wouldn’t let it become a distraction. There was enough to worry about. But still there was that nagging question—did he feel the same? Did he feel her closeness just as strongly as she felt his? She tested the link, but his end was just as strongly blocked as hers.

When they stopped for the night her legs were so stiff Artair had to drag her down from the saddle. She leaned on him as he helped her walk to where Evan was setting up the circle for their fire.  He eased her down and shook his head as she protested. “I’ll get the fire going tonight. Rest. You’ll have to do the same tomorrow.”

As Artair disappeared further into the woods, Muirgen turned to Evan, “How many more days are we riding?”

He smiled slightly, “Three more days.” She groaned, trying to adjust her legs so she could get comfortable. “It will get better,” he promised, “tomorrow morning they’ll hurt even worse, but you should try to walk around a bit to stretch them out.” He piled a handful of dry pine needles in the center of the fire circle, striking several times before blowing softly until a small flame curled amidst them. She watched the fire eating away at the needles slowly, their dry bodies submitting without protest. “Why are you doing this?” Evan asked.

Muirgen raised her eyes to his. “Doing what?”

“Going to the North.” She opened her mouth, but then closed it, lowering her eyes. The further she got from the castle, the less it seemed like a good idea. He cleared his throat, “I know I’m not the Dragon, and you don’t have to confide in me, but I think you know as well as I that they won’t make a treaty. They’re savages who have no care for such things. What they want cannot be given with a treaty or a marriage.”

“You’re right,” she whispered.

He narrowed his eyes. “You don't sound surprised. So why decide to go?”

She smiled, twisting her fingers in the dead leaves that littered the forest floor, “I think I'll find the answers I need there.”

He eyed her with apprehension. “I hope you are right. But if you aren't?”

“Then at least I’ll have tried to do something.” She lifted her fingers to the hidden piece beneath her skin, feeling its warmth as it comforted her. Artair headed back into the forest, after hefting Evan’s bow and grabbing a few arrows.

“I see why you chose him,” Evan said suddenly as he added the sticks to the fire one by one. The fire slipped through the maze of branches, as if seeking the sky. Muirgen tilted her head, waiting for him to continue. “Nothing seems to faze him and the way he looks at you…I’m sure he’ll protect you to his last.”

Muirgen frowned, “How…how does he look at me.”

He raised his eyebrows, “Just about the same way you look at him.”

She blushed, thankful for the dying light to hide her embarrassment. “I don’t look at him any different than I do you.”

Evan laughed, shaking his head. “I’ve had that stupid dazed look in my own eyes. I know it well enough.”

A few moments slipped by in silence before she was brave enough to ask, "Was it worth it?”

He was silent for a while, then said, “It’s always worth it.”

“What was she like?” she asked, watching his face in the glow of the fire light.

He stuck a stick into the fire, moving around the other sticks to allow the fire to breathe a little more. “She had dark hair, nearly black. And the most beautiful scattering of freckles upon her cheeks. They were like the stars. And she was kind. Far kinder than I deserved. And the world was not kind to her in return.”

“The Northmen?” she asked.

He nodded, “During a raid. She was helping move one of the wounded away from the area. Men, women, children. They don’t care who they kill. All they care about is the gold.”

She nodded, the tightness in her stomach rising.  How many families had stories like this? Stories she should have been able to prevent. Artair returned, carrying an opossum by the tail.

“Gave quite the fight,” he said, setting the animal down, “But he was all I could find.”

Evan shrugged, “He’ll do just fine.”

“I can’t say that I’ve ever had it…” Muirgen said, staring at the elongated snout, its mouth open slightly revealing a set of razor sharp teeth.

“They are not easy to kill and they’ll fight back no matter you’re fifteen times their size,” Artair said, sitting down, “So most people don’t bother. But sometimes when there is nothing else…you eat anything you’ll find.”

She sniffed, “I’m not quite sure we’re there yet. We do still have the dried meat.”

Evan nodded, “Yes, but we need to save that for the ship. I assume they sent so much with us because they didn’t want to pay the captain extra to feed us.”

She frowned, “Is that why?” After a moment she pursed her lips, “I’m the Queen. If money cannot be spent on our safe passage and resources, what can it be spent on?”

“A new manor for Lord Anders,” Artair said, skinning the creature.

She turned to him, her stomach turning, and not from the animal. “A what?”

“You didn’t know?” he asked. She shook her head. “All the servants were talking about it. He’s invited most of the court to his manor for an unveiling.”

She rose, her legs protesting in spikes of agony. “I will return shortly.” She wandered into the woods until she could no longer hear them talking and could barely see the light of the fire. She placed a hand on the trunk of a tree, steadying herself as she sucked in giant breaths. She wished Uthyr were here. She wanted him to look at her and tell her everything would be okay. But he wasn’t. Be strong. Be strong. What her mother had always said. But she had been strong. Had done everything in her power to keep the Northmen away, to stop the increasing power and greed of the council and the nobles. To keep her people safe. And it never was enough.

She laid her forehead on the bark, feeling the raised, rough bark. Someone touched her shoulder and she whirled around, yelping in fright and drawing her dagger.

She felt Artair’s surprise as he dodged back. She lowered the dagger, surprised that she hadn’t heard him as he approached. “I felt you…” he said as an explanation, almost awkward.

She pocketed the dagger, “I’m sorry. I’ve always been bad at holding it in.”

He shrugged, the outline of his figure illuminated by the fire far behind him, “You shouldn’t have to.”

“I don’t know how to do this,” she whispered.

“To go to the North?” he asked gently.

She shook her head, “No. Well yes, that as well, but forging a new link.” She paused, “I’ve known Uthyr since I was born. He was always with my mother, and when she died he helped me transition into my role as Queen. Sharing my emotions with him didn’t seem like such a big deal. And he always knew what to say…” She trailed off, uncertain how to continue, knowing she probably was just making Artair feel even worse about the position she had chosen for him.

“I had a step sister,” Artair said slowly. “Granted, you are nothing like her. She was soft and obedient, and was married at 15 to a neighboring lord. But when she was upset I would hold her, and for a time it helped. And sometimes I’d listen to her. Just listen.” He paused, uncertain, “I never would dream of crossing any boundary, and truthfully, I’m still not sure what the boundaries of Dragon are, but whatever you need, I am here.”

She nodded, not ready to cross that line. It probably was best that it never be crossed. “Thank you Artair.”

“Shall we return?” he asked and she nodded, reigning her emotions back and firmly tying off the link on her side. She was quiet for the rest of the night, eating her food in peace as Evan and Artair did the same.

Muirgen shook herself awake, the sun shining on her face through the canopy. Evan and Artair had already gotten up, their rolls packed onto the horses. “You should have woken me,” she said quietly, noticing how high the sun was. They shared a quick glance, then shook their heads.

“You needed the rest,” Artair said.

“Your body needed extra time to recuperate after yesterday,” Evan clarified, and she was thankful that he did not clarify whether he meant her emotions or her legs from the ride the day before. Artair helped her onto the horse and then swung up behind her, leaving Evan to clear up the site and pack her roll onto his horse. Artair set the pace a little harder than the day before, and Muirgen clung to the horse’s neck as she bounced around. Her legs did hurt, but not as badly as she had thought they would, which only could mean that the piece had helped heal her faster than her body naturally would have healed. It was comforting. She knew that it healed cuts and other injuries she had gotten from training with Uthyr, but to know that it worked on pain that couldn't be seen was a great comfort.

Several times Artair led them from the road and into the trees to wait as other riders joined them on the road. He kept saying that he was being more careful than they needed to be, but he and Evan watched the forest and the road ahead constantly.

The days crawled by with little to occupy them. It was nice to see other parts of her kingdom, but as they tended to avoid the villages, it was really the rolling hills, fields, and forests of her kingdom that she was able to examine up close.

When they finally made it to the town that bordered the sea, Artair changed out of his emblazoned tunic to wear a more simple outfit and Evan changed back into his dresses. Before entering the town Muirgen helped Evan braid and secure his hair, wrapping his hair in fine cotton so only his face was seen. Freshly shaved and made up he passed for a very masculine maid. “If anyone asks, you’re my sister,” Artair said, helping her back onto the horse, “Evan is our maid. We are travelling to honor our late father’s grave. He died fighting against the Northmen.”

Muirgen frowned, “Why?”

“Because we need a reason to be travelling together,” he said, drawing his own eyebrows together in confusion.

She shook her head, “But they’ve arranged passage for us as the Dragon and Queen.”

Artair nodded, “Yes, but I would rather be cautious.” Muirgen nodded, but stayed quiet as he pulled himself up next to her and kicked the horse into a canter. As they neared the city gates they dismounted, Artair leading the horse toward the docks. It was odd, Muirgen decided, staring at the sea of people going about their business. It seemed there was a faire in town. Banners and ribbons were being strung up throughout the town, and a set of tables that the townspeople were bringing food to. She smiled, watching as people talked, gossiped, laughed. What would it have been like, were she born in this village, rather than in the castle?

The ship was large, larger than she had ever seen before, a shaky walkway from the dock to the ship providing a trail for them to cross over. As they crossed onto the deck, Artiar handed the reigns to Evan, walking toward one of the sailors. After a few moments he walked away, returning to Evan and Muirgen. “The captain will see us,” he said, offering his arm to Muirgen. “Watch the horses, Evan?” Evan nodded, keeping his eyes to the ground as a few of the soldiers looked him over with interest. Muirgen allowed Artair to lead her through a door and deeper into the ship. They stopped at a door and Artair rapped his knuckles on the door, waiting for a moment before the call to enter came.

Artair tried the handle, entering first and assessing the room before allowing Muirgen entrance. The captain rose, placing his right hand to his chest, “Your majesty.”

She nodded, “Thank you for seeing us, captain.”

He nodded, straightening his shirt as she sank into the chair he offered her. Artair stayed standing, back against the door. “I received word that I should expect you,” he said, moving aside a few papers to reveal the note Uthyr had written, the seal of the Dragon broken in half.

The captain moved the letter back under the maps and unorganized mess he had on his desk. “Uthyr threatens to tear out my tongue and burn my ship if any harm comes to you.” He raised his eyes to Muirgen. “I cannot offer passage to the North lands without some level of potential harm. You do know this?”

Muirgen raised an eyebrow, “What happens to us once we reach our destination is no longer your concern or responsibility.”

He nodded slowly, “There is talk of an engagement…”

Muirgen smiled, feeling Artair’s hot rage that the man had dared bring it up. “People do talk.”

The captain sighed, “Well if that is the case, let me give you a bit of advice. The Northmen do not speak our language. They are brutal. Their gods are hungry for the blood and suffering of their enemies as well as their own people. I would not wish a union with their people on my enemies.”

Her stomach spiked in fear, but she locked it within her. She could do this. “I know the ways of the people of the North well. I do not need to be told what awaits us ashore.”

The captain raised a single bushy eyebrow, and took a puff of acrid smoke that filled the room. “Then the question must be posed. Why are you going?”

She leaned forward, “We are paying you to transport us, captain. Not to ask questions.”

 He raised his hands in defeat, “I have cleared out my apartment for you. Dinners will be served at eight every night.” He stood, walking past her to the door, “If you’ll take one more suggestion from me, your highness. You should stick to your cabin after dark. It would be best. The men tend to get a little rowdy after a few rounds.”

Artair blocked the door, crossing his arms over his chest, “How many of the crew know who your passenger will be?”

The captain took a step back, considering Artair, “I have not informed them that we are taking on passengers. I was instructed not to reveal your identity until after we set sail.” Artair nodded, pleased with the answer.

The captain gestured at the door, “Excuse me.” Artair let him pass. The man stuck his head out of the door and hollered, “Peters!” Within minutes a man shot down the stairs and entered into the captain’s study. 

“Yes, captain?” 

“These are our guests. Show them to my quarters.”

“Our horses?” Artair asked, “Our maid is waiting on deck with them.”

The captain nodded, turning back to Peters, “Show them to their rooms, then collect Miss Evans on deck and show her where we store the horses.” He turned to Artiar, “Though really it would be best to leave them behind.”

Artair shook his head, “We’ll need them ashore.”

The captain nodded, accepting it. “You know where I am if you need anything.”

Artair and Muirgen followed Peters out of the captain’s office and down a corridor. He opened the door to a small room, “Your suite for the next nine days.” 

“Thank you,” Muirgin said before heading inside. Artair nodded to the man and followed after her, closing the door. The boat shifted slightly from side to side. Not enough to make her stumble, but enough to unsettle her stomach.