The Seasons of Salt

Chapter Ten

“Wake up, hush child, wake up.”

The hands shaking her were rough, urgent. The voice low but panicked.

Mira blinked.

“No. I do not want to get up. No, Mama.”

Strong hands were already hauling her upright, throwing the covers off of her, exposing her to the chill night air. Mira wailed, but those same hands crammed themselves over her mouth.

“Do not make a noise. You have to be a big, brave girl now. Put your clothes on. We must go.”

“Go?” She looked around the chambers.  It was midnight black in the room, the wardrobe and the dressing table making even blacker shadows in the room, but a strange glow curled around the curtains by the window. Too orange – too flickering- to be dawn. It was still night. “I’m cold, Mama. I want to go to bed.”

“Here, put this lovely cloak on, is it not just as warm as a blanket? There. Your shoes, Mira. Hurry.” An anxious glance behind at the shut door. Mira sniffed and cried, but forced her tired feet into the fur-lined leather boots.

“Your majesty, I have your son. You must go now.” That was Nanna Mimi, cloak thrown hastily over her night-gown, kerchief upon her greying curls. Jemry was held tight in her arms, her hands wrapped protectively over his shoulders as he stood shivering before her with his skinny legs and mardy face as though he were a baby – though he was three years older than her. A couple of Daddy’s Ram’s Horn men stood stone-faced behind them both, guarding the door. They were tall and grim, and Mira crept closer to Mama fearfully.

“We take the back stairs, your majesty,” a grey-bearded monster of a man said, his black and white cloak straining over his shoulders, the ram head etched into his breastplate glinting in that strange orange glow. “The rest of your delegation is waiting for you by the water gate.”

Mama swept Mira up in her own arms, resting her on her hip, and Mira nuzzled into the warmth of her neck, her eyes itching down again. Her fingers were cold, and she buried them under the thick curls of her Mama’s hair. She stroked a couple of strands, coiling them around her fingers until they looked like black rings on her pale skin. Soft. Pretty. The pride of the peninsula, Daddy called them. Black-gold. Mira’s hair was brown, like Daddy’s, but Mama said it might get darker when she got older.

Mama swung a satchel over her shoulders and it hit Mira on the legs. Mira started to cry again, but Mama hushed her, joggling her slightly up and down. They ran out the back door, the servants' door though Mama usually said they were not allowed to use it, it was only for the maids and the nannas, not for little princesses who needed to keep their clothes clean and their noses cleaner.

There was a thrill to it. Forbidden. It was dark and narrow down here. Dimly lit. Like a special tunnel, a midnight adventure, and, now she was awake, it seemed rather fun.

“It’s very dark,” she said loudly and her voice echoed down the stairway.

“Hush, Mira. You must not say anything again. It’s a game. It’s – it’s the silent game. You must not say anything no matter what you see or hear, until Mama tells you that you can, understand?”

Mira nodded solemnly, a little frightened by the urgency in Mama’s voice. Mama was sometimes cross but she was never scared, and Mira was beginning to think that Mama might be scared now. Jemry was sniffling, but he did not say anything. He was too old for sniffling really. And he was a boy – he would be king one day. He ought to be ashamed and Mira was about to tell him so when she remembered that she was not supposed to be talking.

Mama slipped a little on the steep spiral stairs she flew down, and almost dropped Mira. Mira yelped a little, clutching on tightly, her nails digging tiny crescent moons into Mama’s neck, but Mama did not complain. She did not stop moving, though her breath was coming out fast, panting, like the dogs that slept by the fire. Mama always said that dogs ought to sleep in the kennels outside, but Daddy liked them there, and Daddy always got what he wanted which, he said, was the best bit about being king. Mama did not like dogs much. She said they always smelled wet, even when they were not, and you never knew if they were going to attack you. Wild animals, even the tamed ones. She yelled at Mira, if Mira petted them too much.

Mama did not smell wet though, even if she sounded like a dog. She smelled cold, like the night.

“Where are we going?” Mira whispered. She had already forgotten the game.

“Hush, child. We are going…somewhere special. A surprise.”

“I do not want to go somewhere special.”

“Well, we do not always get what we want.” Snappish. Angry. “Now hush.”

Mira buried her head in Mama’s neck, feeling her lips wobbling, but she did not say anything more.

The stairs led to a low corridor, equally narrow. Mira’s legs scraped against the damp stone walls as Mama hurried them along it, but she was a big girl and she knew better than to cry about it especially when Mama was angry with her.

The joggling was making her feel ill now. She wanted to get down, but Mama’s hands were digging into her legs, holding her up.

Mama hesitated.

“Which way to the water gate?”

“Left, your majesty, and then through the barrel store. There’s a small door waiting at the end.”

Mama nodded.

“Mimi, we will go on our own from here. Give me Jemry. You get yourself to safety.”

Nanna Mimi went very white, her thick arms clenching tighter around her prize.

“I’m coming with you.”

“No. We will go faster alone. You should escape whilst you can.”

“I’ve raised them from bean-sprouts, Leera. I nursed them on these breasts when you could not.”

Mama just frowned at the grey-beard man, and he leant forwards to snatch Jemry from Nanna Mimi’s protesting arms. Nanna Mimi squawked, but she was a tiny round woman, no match for the black and white warriors. Mama clapped a thin, white hand on Nanna Mimi’s shoulder. The fingers, bony, were clenched tight on Nanna Mimi’s cuddly arms.

“They are my children, Mimi, not yours,” she said, and her voice was cold enough to make Mira shiver. “You will slow us down and, when we get caught, we will all die. Besides, if you are found with us, your life will be forfeit. Alone, you have a greater chance of escape. Go now whilst you can. Take any of the gold or jewellery that I left from my chambers and then leave.”

Nanna Mimi did not say anything. Mira started to cry again.

“I do not want Nanna Mimi to leave. I want her to stay. I want to stay with Nanna Mimi!”

“I have told you to be silent, Mira. Jemry, go. Daric, lead the way please.”

The grey-beard man complied, pushing Jemry along before him. The rest of the Ram’s Horn men fell in line around them, until they were surrounded by a sea of black and white cloaks, metal and muscle.

Mira tried to cling to Nanna Mimi who stood there, frozen, her arms by her side. Her face was grey and slack and her arms would not even lift to hug Mira. Mira cried harder. Mama pulled her away by force, her face tight and furious, making Mira cry harder. Mira reached out in the dark, but Mama hurried her away, left down the corridor, and threw the little wooden door at the end. It was dark down here, full of squat round shapes in lines like soldiers and it scared her as if they were waiting to attack. It stank of stale grapes and it stung her eyes.

“You need to stop crying.”

But Mira could not. Mama dropped her to her feet and then knelt beside her. Her eyes were serious in the dim grey. She stroked Mira’s hair off of her damp face. The rest of the company came to an uneasy halt too.

“Your majesty, we must hurry,” Grey-beard said uneasily, but Mama ignored him.

“I have been cross with you,” she said gently. “I got you out of bed and I did not give you a chance to say goodbye to Nanna Mimi properly, and that makes you sad. And we will all cry later, Mira. But right now I need you to be quiet. Can you do that for me? Can you be a big, brave girl and be quiet for just a little while longer?”

“Of course she cannot. She’s just a baby,” Jemry sneered.

“I’m not a baby. I’m a big girl.”

“Yes, you’re a very big girl, so be quiet like a big girl, and Mama will be very proud of you. You want Mama to be proud of you, do you not?”

“Yes, Mama.”

“Good girl.” Mama did not pick her up again. She was tired. Her skin was grey, like Nanna Mimi’s had been. She took Mira’s little hand in her bony one and took Jemry’s hand in the other, and she hurried them through the squat little shadows, like an army of dwarves in the dark. There was another door out the other side, and it led into a little courtyard. The orange light was brighter here. Louder too. It rumbled and rattled over the edges of the tall stone walls, and Mira shied into her Mama’s side.

Mama led them to a small grate in the bottom of the courtyard. It was wet and smelly and it gurgled. Mira thought of the dogs again, which always smelled wet, even when they were not.

“Are the dogs going somewhere special too? Is Bravefang?” she asked, but Mama was not listening to her. She was watching the black and white men who were waiting for them there at the water gate. At a curt command from Grey-beard, they began tugging at the grate buried in the wall. It squealed against the stone, and it budged open.

“Horic, Bund, check the pathway is still clear,” Grey-beard barked and two more of the Ram’s Horn men squeezed their way through and down into the darkness. Daddy always said the men of the Horn were the biggest and strongest and best warriors anywhere in the land. They had to be, to protect the king and his family. Mayhap they were, but they were almost too big. They struggled to edge their way through past the gaping metal teeth and into the gullet beyond. 

“Royce?” Mama murmured to Grey-beard. He grimaced.

“We are doing all we can, your majesty,” he promised. “The king still has Garrington, Estwitch, Pytor, Rumin and Flitch with him, and the remnant of the King’s Company that has not turned coat. He has a chance yet. The traitor, Glengower, may command more men, but he does not have better fighters.”

“You should be with him, Daric.”

“I follow his commands, your majesty, and he has commanded the safe passage of his children and wife now.”

“He is not expecting to survive tonight,” Mama murmured. Mira looked up at her in surprise. She slipped her hand into Mama’s. It was icy cold.

“Who?” She asked. “Who is not expecting to survive tonight?” But Mama just hushed her. The two black and white men reappeared at the entrance of the hole and nodded at Grey-beard who gestured to Mama. Mama pushed Mira and Jemry forwards.

“Go through. I am right behind you.” But Mira shied away. She did not want to be swallowed by that dark, endless mouth with its sharp metal teeth. She wanted to go back to bed.

She tried to pull away but Mama held her tight.

“Jemry, be brave, my love, you slip through first. Show your little sister how to do it.”

Jemry did not want to either. He was standing very still, his arms down by his side like he did when he was afraid, everything tight and wound up. Mama grabbed him by the scruff of his cloak and pushed him through the hole. She pulled Mira through with the other hand, though Mira struggled and complained and cried. The tunnel underneath was dark and damp. Things dripped on her, and things scuttled away and Mira cried harder, but Mama did not tell her off anymore. Mayhap she could not hear her crying over the echoing yells that followed them, furious.

The water grew deeper as they scurried down the tunnel. It sloshed in Mira’s boots, drenching the bottom of her cloak. She was very cold and damp now. Every time they stepped forwards, it splashed higher and higher, until it was almost up to her thighs and she had to wade with great white flecks of spray following her. Some of it splashed in her mouth, making her splutter and cry.

There was another grate at the other end and Grey-beard ordered his men to open that one too. Mira clung onto Jemry and he did not push her off. Another hand, strong and calloused, wound around the bars from the outside and pulled hard. It was a hairy hand, thick black curls sprouting on the fingers and Mira shied further away. Nanna Mimi had thin hairs lingering on her fingers and her chin, but not great wiry dog-hairs like these. She began to think it was a pit-beast. Jemry told her a story of the pit-beasts once, the half men, half animals, which lurked in the darkness of the Starfire Isles, and she had had nightmares for a fortnight and Jemry had been beaten for frightening her. Those thick fingers strained against the metal and Mira hoped he would not be able to break through. She longed to tell Mama to make the men stop that the pit-beast was going to eat them if he broke in, but her voice would not come. She clung harder to Jemry than ever.

The grate was stiffer here. It would not move so easily through the deeper water. It took a lot of pushing and whispered prayers to move it, and the pit-beast on the other side said words that Mira was not allowed to hear usually. The grate inched open a little, wide enough for Mira and Jemry to scrape past. Mama passed her to Grey-beard who swept her up in his arms and passed her through the hole in the grate towards the pit-beast on the other side. Mira kicked and struggled and wailed, but she was tiny and it did no good. The metal of the grate tore at her tummy and made her wail harder than ever, but she was out of the tunnel and in the arms of the pit-beast beyond, beneath the open orange skies. He had a thick black beard, as scrubby as the hair upon his fingers, but he had a man’s face and a man’s body, and his eyes were dark as the midnight tides not the strange ice-white that the pit-beasts’ were. It was not much comfort. The man was still a stranger.

“No! No! Mama! I want Mama!”

“Your Mama is coming, Princess. Hush now, there’s a good girl.”

Everyone was telling her to hush tonight but all she wanted to do was cry and go back to bed where everything was warm and safe and Nanna Mimi would come and tell her stories and sing lullabies and tuck her back under the covers. She cried harder, until Mama managed to squeeze her way through and took Mira back into her own arms wearily. They were standing waist-deep in a pool beyond the great walls, and Mira was shivering as her feet and legs trailed in the water. Mama swayed slightly with every breath of wave.

“Lord Helmas. I am sore glad to see you. I did not think you would come in person.”

“I did not think you’d trust yourself to anyone less, your majesty, and time is of the essence. I came as soon as the corryn arrived. And not a moment too soon, it seems.” His eyes flickered to the orange glow congregating around the corners of the castle, seeping over to the quiet, back walls from the chaos at the front. Mama did not turn her head.

“Where are the carts?”

“In the Great Woods.” He jerked his chin out towards the blackness beyond. Mama’s eyes followed, staring blankly into the nothingness which greeted them.

“The tide is high. It will not go down again until dawn.” She murmured.

The man grunted.

“The traitors knew what they were doing.” He said it like an oath and it frightened Mira. She did not cry out again, but she clung to Mama with all the strength left in her frozen fingers. The man swung Jemry up onto his gigantic shoulders and waded through the waters, leaving ripples in his wake. The black and white men followed them stealthily, their blades drawn, the waters scarcely rippling in their wake.

“How far is it to the Great Woods, Mama?”

“Far enough.” It was the man who answered. “Anyone see you leave, your Majesty?”

“I do not think so. We fled just as the Outer Gate was breached. Royce is holding – he’s holding them off as best he can.” Her voice was choked. Raw.

“Did you not think the Keep might be the best place for you? Running is always a risk."

“There’s too many of them, Oric.” Her voice was weary now. Mira was tired too.

“I’m tired, Mama. When can we sleep?”

“Soon, child, soon.” It was the man who spoke again. He struggled out of the water and held a hand out to Mama who took it gratefully. “You’ll catch your death of cold. You’ll need to get changed. Light a fire, maybe.”

“We need to take the channel by boat and escape the Brenin Peninsula entirely.” Grey-Beard grunted. “We have friends still, if we can access them. The Fen’s Men might have seized Holdfast tightly, but if we can slip by them in a small cog, we will out in the open countryside, and we may yet have a chance.”

“We have not got a boat, not even a cog. What we’ve got is a cart, and two dozen swords to ride beside it. They are waiting just beyond the hedgerows.”

Grey-beard growled. “We cannot out-fight them, Helmas. Not with but a score of men.”

“We need time. If we can hide in the forest-”

“As soon as they take the Keep they will realise the queen and her heirs are missing. They will be after us before the morning sun has risen. We must have left the peninsula by then.”

“Deai will have fallen before sunrise?” Jemry said quietly. Everybody turned to look at him, as though surprised he could hear. The adults all looked at each other anxiously. Grey-beard forced a smile to his face.

“They do not know you have left yet, my prince. We have surprise upon our side, and the five best fighters in the counties to accompany you. Do not abandon hope yet.”

“Hope has abandoned us, Daric, not the other way around,” Mama muttered. “Come, there is no point in bickering. We must get out of the shadow of the castle at the very least.”

Grey-beard did not reply to this, and neither did the not-pit-beast. No one spoke in fact, as the five black and white men surrounded Mama and Mira and Jemry and the not-pit-beast, and they trudged wearily forwards through the flickering night.

The grounds from the castle down to the city beyond were slanted. The Deai castle was up on top of a hill, with the orchards and farm-lands hedgerowed around it. There was a forest upon the edge of the night, but Daddy always kept it cut back. He always said that no good thing could come of having a forest too close upon a castle’s wall. Beyond the farm-lands were long flat plains, grey in the moonlight, back-lit by the orange glow behind them. As the hurried down the hill together, little more than shadows, they found that the city surrounding the Deai Castle was ravaged. The whole world was alight, and Mira could not help stare at it as they passed by it. She had been down there on the procession for her birthday. People had given her things. Flowers, ribbons, sweet honey buns, because they loved her so much, Daddy had said. They wanted to give gifts to the little Princess they adored. People had waved ribbons as they rode through and everyone had admired her dress and said how pretty she was – almost as pretty as Mama, whom everyone knew was the beauty with her hair.

A dozen shadows leapt up from the grasses suddenly, making Mama flinch. Grey-beard’s sword flickered in the moonlight.

“Lower your blade, Lord Daric. These are my men. Some of them, at least.”

The not-pit-beast swung Jemry off of his shoulders and handed him to one of the men. He took Mira off of Mama in one swift movement and Mama, tired, damp, frightened, did not complain. He handed Mira to another one of his men. The man smelled bad, like blood and leather, and his hands were large and rough as they rested too hard on her shoulders.

“Trouble?”

“None so far, my Lord Helmas.”

“Good. Let us keep it that way. Bring forward the cart. It is a little less comfortable than that which you are used to, I fear, your majesty,” he added with a wry smile towards Mama, but Mama did not smile back.

“We should ride towards the docks anyway,” Grey-beard said wearily. “It is better than hiding in the forest where we shall certain-sure be found. Mayhap we can find a boat.”

The not-pit-beast just grunted. His eyes were trained against the horizon, his body stiff and uneasy even as the cart came trundling quietly out of the forest shadows. There was an oil-cloth thrown over it. It creaked to a stop just before them.

“The Ram’s Horn can ride upon the cart with their majesties. My men will surround it. I-” The not-pit-beast stopped abruptly, holding up a hand. His eyes darted over their shoulder, back towards the way they had come. “Silence,” he hissed. “A noise. We were followed?”

There was a hiss of metal on metal. The men all drew their swords. Mama did not smile, as she often smiled when Daddy drew his sword, waving it around their chambers, acting out great battles for Jemry and Mira to laugh at. They all turned back the way they had come, stilling into silence as they listened for the intruder.

What happened next, Mira was not quite sure. Only that there was a soft and silent hush from behind them and a grunting noise. Grey-beard, spluttering on the blood now pouring from his throat, went collapsing to his knees – nor was he the only one. There was a clatter of swords and confused yelling and the black and white men were embroiled in a bitter battle. Mira tried to get to Mama, but the blood-and-leather man still held her tightly, his hands fastening around her deep enough to bruise, pulling her up off of the floor and forcing her onto the cart. The oil-cloth had been thrown back now. These men fighting the Ram’s Horn must have come from within the darkened recesses of the cart. Mira screamed, kicking and flailing as the men fought one another in the dark. Many of the newcomers fell, but they outnumbered the Ram’s Horn easily, and they had had the surprise.

“Mama! Mama!”

But Mama was being held tightly by the not-pit-beast, his hairy hands clinging to a sword, pressed tight against Mama’s throat.

Mama was screaming and Mira screamed too. The man holding Mira shook her hard, making her head dizzy, until the words Mama screeched blurred into each other in one shrill shriek.

“Oric, why? No, why? We were friends! Right from our youth! You were my brother’s friend, Finch’s friend. Please do not do this.”

“It’s too late. It’s already done.”

“Not my children, Oric, please. Not Mira, not Jemry, they’re just babies. Please, Oric, do not, it’s not too late, please do not do this.”

The not-pit-beast did not reply. He was still holding the struggling Mama.

Jemry kicked at the man holding him, stamping hard upon his foot. The man released him with a curse and Jemry ran  fast and hard into the undergrowth. The not-pit-beast swore bitter oaths.

“Get him! Get after him! He must not be allowed to get away!”

Half a dozen men peeled off from the battle and thundered through the undergrowth after Jemry, but Jem was quick and lithe and he might yet escape. The Ram’s Horn men could not. There was only one of them left standing now, fending off three men at once with his sword. The blade sparkled in the orange light as though it was made of fire, whirling around with a clash and a clatter as he fended off his assailants.

“Oust, it is far too late for that,” the Not-pit-beast said, still struggling with the writhing Mama. “Even you cannot hold off against a dozen men alone.”

Oust did not reply. He was sweating, his face tight, his lips pressed firmly together as he concentrated.

“Back off. Let him go. He has scarcely grown his beard bristles. Let him go and tell the castle what we have done,” the Not-pit-beast said. Reluctantly, his men drew back. Oust looked to Mama and Mama nodded tearfully. The last of the Ram’s Horn ran off into the deepening black alone.

Daddy would be cross with him. He always said it was the Ram’s Horn’s only job to lay down their lives for the king’s protection and at the king’s desire. Oust would be sent back to his own home in disgrace for fleeing a battlefield – even one so heavily outnumbered as this.

“Please, you had compassion on that boy, have compassion on us too. It is Royce you want, Olric. Do not blame them for Royce’s mistakes. Please. You have children, Oric. Imagine if it was little Oric, or little Oya here. Please.”

“I’m sorry. I am. But this has to end tonight, for all our sakes.”

He turned to the forest’s edge as his men returned, carrying a swearing, spitting Jemry between them. He was writhing in their arms, his legs carried by one man, his arms by another, like a flitch from the butcher’s.

“Please, no, no, please, Olric, I will give you anything – anything. Please!”

Mayhap it was her imagination, but Mira thought there was a glint of something akin to pity in the not-pit-beast’s eyes.

“Forgive me, Leera. I know how deep this wounds you – if there were another way…”

“There is! There is another way!”

“No. There is not. You will come to understand that, in time, I trust, even if you can never forgive it.”

He clicked his fingers at his men. Mira turned her eyes to find Jemry’s wide and tearful in the dark, saw the flash of the blade in the darkness, heard the scream, and felt a warm, wet pain on the top of her head. The ground was freezing. The tears soaking into it did nothing to melt it. And then, at last, dizzily, full of pain and sick and sad, she slept again at last.