Chapter 2
:
The Night Maiden series #1: Riding a Black Horse
Chapter 2
The first dream Necron had of his daughter was of her as a maiden, riding a black horse. She was traveling with an army: a camp follower. When he awoke, bathed in sweat, he ran straight from the bed to his brother Jon’s house. There he found Jon and his other brother Michel and told them the dream and that if it ever happened, he would ask them to drown his daughter. If they refused, he would do it himself. Afterwards, he left his dumbfounded brothers in silence and went back home.
He said nothing to his 8-year-old daughter directly, but told her mother later that evening and she relayed it to her. A father fears for his daughter’s virtue, her mother told her when she asked what would cause her father to act so violently. It is more precious than her life in this world. Her mother lamented that she could not have brought her daughter into a better world, where the life of every young child mattered most. But her daughter comforted her mother and said: “Life is just a breath. What we do with that breath is the greatest value.”
+++
As a fief of the local demesne, Count Arbor, Kamatari toiled in their lord’s personal farmland two days a week, in addition to their own farms every other day. In return for their labors, the two peasants received lunch served with fresh bread and a strong ale, which kept their bellies warm against the cold of the afternoon, assuming the count was in a generous mood. If not, they would receive a lunch with watery gruel that retained the flavor of the raw sewage it was born from. But even the warm bread, which was served with the smiles of the buxom serving girls, was meager compensation for the sting of the northern winds against bare flesh and the kick of a heavy iron plow against an already aching shoulder. And it was growing worse every year as the winters grew harsher and the springs and even summers brought no respite from the unremitting cold and the fields turned to slop in the often icy monsoon rains.
One day, as Kamatari examined the stooped rows of emaciated corn and bean plants, he felt the rumble of his empty stomach and finally decided he had enough. He threw down his hoe anger, only to have the long handle drop loudly and painfully on his foot.
“Gods be damned!” he exclaimed to no one in particular. “First they send us years of drought and heat and now this fucking cold and moisture. Every year, it’s the same shit, only different. And these sickly things aren’t going to produce enough food to feed a dead gerbil, let alone the village for a year. I’ve had it. I’m done!”
Minoru had been crouching over his row of beans, picking at the weeds with his fingers. Now he raised his head and shook his head disapprovingly. “What’s gotten into you anyways?” he said. “Don’t you know they haven’t served lunch yet. If you keep whining like that, we won’t even get the gruel we’re promised and the count’s liable to have us locked up.”
“Lock me up then. I don’t give a shit,” Kamatari said. “Better to be cold and asleep indoors than cold and working my ass end off for some lord who’s never dirtied his hands a day in his life and tells me how much better he is than me.”
“Then go back to your farm and work there. Leave me in peace.”
“I would. But shit ain’t growing there either.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“Your farm ain’t no better.”
Minoru’s head dropped. “Why is this happening to us? My children go to bed hungry and I have sores on my hand. Every year it takes longer to grow the same amount of food. Did we do something wrong?”
“Like be born?” Kamatari spat. “No, we’re doing great. We’ll be rich before the season’s out.”
Minoru tossed a hand full of weeds on the ground and his lip quivered. “There’s no need to be mean about it. But what can we can do but farm until we all drop dead of starvation?”
Kamatari scratched his chin and looked up at the sky. The clouds were leaden and barely allowed for a dull light to penetrate the oppressive gloom. “Well, those cutthroats in Vagran or Olivet don’t seem to be hurting for eats, and I’m told they’ve got a little coin in their pocket to boot. It seems the Dauphin will take anyone who can hold a sword or pull a trigger.”
“You want to hire yourself out as a sell-sword?” Minoru said. “But you could be killed. You could leave your wife a widow!”
Kamatari pointed to the sodden ground. “And you don’t think this will kill us? Between the lack of food, the sickening water and the grippe and the bandits stealing and raping and murdering, we might die anyways. At least, if we’re soldiers we can learn to fight so no one will be able to take what’s ours and we might enjoy some comfort.”
Minoru scrunched his face as though he was pondering a great mystery of the universe. He looked momentarily at his other hand still clenching a fistful of muddy weeds. He threw that wad of plants to the ground and placed his dirty hands at his hips. “How do we sign up?”
“Simple. We take what we can carry and head for the capitol.”
“But we have no weapons. And I’ve never even fired a gun. Why would the Dauphin enlist a pair of unarmed peasants?”
Kamatari looked around hastily. He picked up Minoru’s hoe and bent the metal spade at the end under the weight of his boot until it flattened into an extra broad spearhead. “We’ll beat our ploughshares into bloody swords,” he growled.
+++
Captain Baudrin hefted himself out of bed and onto his leaden feet. The wooden was cold as ice against his bare skin and instantly regretted not checking the furnace before retiring the previous night. His head was throbbing from too much mead and ale and he clumsily stumbled towards the bathroom sink, knocking over a spent candle on the bureau next to his bed. The splash of cold water against his face shocked him awake, but then the piercing migraine behind his left eye set in. The migraines usually accompanied bad weather, but these days they worsened as conditions on the battlefront worsened.
He was just thinking how pleasant it might be to creep back into bed and let the day’s patrol be damned when a polite knocking could be heard coming from the chamber door. It was a dull thump, but to Baudin’s ears it might as well as been a steam-driven jackhammer.
“Go away, Baldric,” Baudrin called, rubbing his temples. “Unless you’ve got the world’s supply of laudanum with you, just pretend I’ve died for the day and you’re in command.”
“Sir, she’s back.”
“Who’s back? I don’t have the patience or mental capacity for riddles right now.”
“The girl from the market. The one who hears voices.”
“And why are you telling me this?”
“She claims to have intelligence on the enemy positions.”
“Her ‘voices’ tell her this information?”
“She did not say, but I would assume that’s the case, sir.”
“So? Send her away. Why do I have to be bothered with every emotionally unstable wench with delusions of magical prophecy that wanders through the territory?”
“I would send her away, but—sir, may I come in?”
Grudgingly, Baudrin opened the door. His spindly assistant, dressed as usual in a freshly pressed grey uniform with the house Valcolors epaulettes, awaited him in the hall. He held a clipboard full of papers close against his chest, no doubt with the day’s busy agenda scrawled on one. Baudrin ushered him in with a cursory wave of his hand.
“What is so difficult about ‘send her away,’ Baldric? The concept of sending or the away part?”
“The ‘her’ part, actually,” Baldric said. “She refuses to leave. She—”
“Well, did you ask politely?”
“Yes, sir. She—”
“Did you ask impolitely?”
“Of course, I did. She still refuses. As I was about to say, she insists on seeing you and will not move. She claims that she hasn’t eaten in three days and will not eat again until you agree to grant her an audience.”
Baudrin sniffed. “You’re a strapping young man. Certainly you can handle a hunger-weakened maiden by yourself or command the guards to do it for you.”
“I would, sir. However, the girl can’t be enticed or forced to leave. I feel that you need to see her and resolve the issue.”
Baudrin growled as the searing pain behind his eyes penetrated to the back of his skull and bounced forward. Seeing his master’s visible distress, Baldric scampered to the bathroom and emerged with a glass of water and a draught of some sort of medicine. He handed it to Baudin, who swiped it impatiently and down the liquid and pills quickly.
“Don’t beat around the bush, Baldric. My head can’t take the pounding right now. Why should I see this girl again and what assurance do you have that she will be satisfied and get out our blasted hair?”
“Because, sir, there are over a hundred peasants and townsfolk with her. She’s gathered an entourage around her and they are refusing to let me remove her from the courtyard.”
Baudrin flinched. “An insurrection?”
“They seem peaceful. And most of them are your people. They just seem to believe her.”
The captain groaned. “And because they are foolish, I must entertain this child.”
“That appears to be the case, sir.”
“Let me get dressed,” the captain said. “Tell her I will see her within the hour and that after she has stated her peace I will expect her and her entourage to clear the courtyard.”
Baldric bowed curtly and left. Baudrin struggled into his own grey dress uniform. He was still fit for a man in his early fifties but already he could feel the slow creep of time in his bones and tightness around his middle as he buttoned the waistcoat. He decided to forgo shaving as he had the last several days, preferring to allow the stubble to set in and give his sunken eyes an even more surly appearance.
A few minutes later, after he gave his stomach a moment to settle, he descended a flight of stairs that led to the Great Room to find the typically sedate chambers bristling with action as guards, advisors and even townspeople milled about shelves of books and tables. It was enough to send his head reeling—even more than it was. At the center of this whirling mob stood the maiden, calm and demure, dressed only in the plain robes of the peasantry. Still, she was fetching, her raven hair spun into a braid that descended the length of her back. When the crowd spotted him at the foot of the stairs, it parted to allow him access to the maiden, and, as if on cue, she spun to face him.
Baudrin opened his mouth to speak, but was momentarily stunned by the maiden’s serene expression. “Maiden, and why do you still sully my door?” he said at last.
“I have been sent for by your Lord to seek you out,” the maiden said. “I am here to save the country.”
A single laugh echoed through the chamber, but all else were silent.
Baudrin guffawed. “You were sent by the Dauphin? I doubt even he would send a child to conduct his business.”
“No, sir. Your lord king sent me.”
The captain eyed her suspiciously. “Careful, girl, and explain what you mean by that. The Dauphin is your rightful ruler.”
“He is—or will be, once he is made king. I mean, sir, that his father, the King Rien, sent me.”
“King Rien is dead.”
“He is,” the maiden said dryly. “Nonetheless, he sent me to come find you with orders that you were to accompany me to the Dauphin and lead the offensive to expel the Fiorese from the Continent.”
“You mean, a dead man told you this.”
“He also told me you would not believe.”
“You’re damn right I don’t believe,” Baudrin said, seething with anger. “You’re the third quack to turn up at my door this month claiming to have some mystical power or another and claiming to have the key to save the Continent from the bloody Fiorese devils. And do you know what they were?”
“Charlatans,” the maiden said. “But I tell the truth. I bring word from your late lord and king. He calls upon you from beyond the grave to help me save our kingdom and guide the Dauphin to his destiny.”
Baudrin had heard enough. He nodded to Baldric and the guards. “The girl is crazy,” he said. “Box her ears and take her back to her father.”
Baldric and his two beefy guards looked at each other confused. They seemed hesitant to move against the girl and the group of townsfolk seemed to tense with anticipation. However, the maiden did not wait for the guards to carry out their orders. She walked up to the captain and placed a palm on his forehead. The captain jerked away, but not before he felt a warmth penetrate his scalp and his migraine instantly dissipate. For the first time since he awoke, the haze began to lift from Baudrin’s mind and he studied the maiden’s face intently.
“My headache’s gone. What—how did you do that?”
The maiden lifted her chin proudly. “It is my gift.”
“Your gift? You’re a healer?”
“She’s a witch!” someone from the crowd shouted, but was silenced by the grumbling of the townspeople.
At last, Baldric and the guards moved towards her as if to haul her off. One of the guards placed a gloved hand on her shoulder, but Baudrin waved him quickly. “Explain by what you mean by gift,” he said.
“As I told you when last we met, I hear the voice of your dead lord and master. We instructed me—”
“Yes, yes,” Baudrin said impatiently. “But how do you know you are hearing voices from dead people and that this voice, as you say, is that of King Rien?”
“Because he said so,” the maiden said matter-of-factly. “Because he tells me things only a king could know.”
“Like what?”
The maiden glanced at the crowd and then back at the captain. “Pardon, sir,” maiden said. “But do you mind?”
She motioned for Baudrin to come closer. He complied and she leaned into him until her lips almost touched his ear. He could smell the faint aroma of clover and honeydew; it was a mild surprise coming from a peasant girl. He expected her to stink of dung and sweat, like the rest of her kind. In fact, he found her scent almost intoxicating.
“The king told me you would not believe,” she whispered close to him. “He bid me tell you that your wife cared for him when he came down with the grippe during his last visit here. He gave her a token of his thanks, a brooch in the shape of his family’s flower seal. Does the lady still have his gift?”
“Why yes, a lion lily. She wears it almost every day,” Baudrin’s eyes widened. “But the king’s illness was kept a secret. Only myself, my wife and king’s physician knew about that incident. How would you…”
“He told me, when he bid me come to you.”
Baudrin stepped back and scratched his stubbled chin. He stared deeply into the maiden’s pale blue eyes, but he could detect no hint of deception. “Fine,” he said after a pause. “Let’s just entertain for a moment that you are telling the truth. Why would the spirit of our dead king come to you, a simple maiden?”
“Because I was the only one who would listen.”
“Don’t be coy with me, girl.”
“Forgive me, sir. I am too simple to be coy. I merely meant that speaking to the dead is my gift—and my curse. Truth be told, I do not know why the king chose me over the sages or even his own son.”
“And what does he say he wants from you?”
“He wants me to lead to the army to victory over the Fiorese and ensure the Dauphin ascends to the throne as is his right.”
“You… lead the army?” the captain said, as a few laughs arose from the servants watching from the doors. “Have you ever led men into battle?”
“No, sir.”
“Have you ever killed a man in combat?”
“No, sir.”
“Have you even held a sword?”
“No, sir.”
“Then how could you possibly know that you can lead the Dauphin’s army to victory?”
“The king said he would show me the way if I listened to him.”
Baudrin folded his arms. “And what martial wisdom did the king’s spirit impart to you?”
“That we should launch an offensive to retake the industrial center of Olivet from the Fiorese.”
“Olivet is in our hands, girl,” Baudrin’s averted his eyes from the maiden’s unwavering gaze. “One cannot launch an offensive to take something one already holds.”
“But we do not hold it. The Fiorese and their allies struck only a few days ago. Yesterday, it fell.”
Baudrin shot Baldric a furtive glance. His assistant cleared his throat into his closed fist. “We received word just this morning, sir. I’m sorry. I was going to bring it to your attention when this business was concluded.”
“And how do you know about this, girl?”
“The king told me, just as he told me about your wife’s brooch.”
The captain’s eyes narrowed. “But I did not know until just now. And a mere maiden would not be privy to such information unless she had been to Olivet recently or had an informant feeding her from the inside.”
“I told you my informant.”
“Perhaps,” Baudrin said, motioning again for Baldric and his guards to take custody of the maiden. “But perhaps you’ve told me a fancy tale to go along with a cheap parlor trick. But I’ll grant your wish to stay while we sort out the truth.”
The guards laid hands on the maiden, but she did not resist. The crowd seemed restive but made no move to intervene. As Baldric escorted the girl past him, Baudrin whispered into his assistant’s ear: “Don’t take her to the dungeon. Just take her to the guest quarters and post a guard. That should be sufficient for now.”