Chapter Eight

All her nagging questions answered, Sula grew quiet. From atop the mare, she looked out over the small hills behind her. Though she had never been out this close to the city’s outer walls, they reminded her of the green slopes and valleys she had run through just a day ago. Somehow it seemed so distant now. Her belly laughs as she frolicked felt so silly now. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. In it she swore she could smell the earthiness of river reeds as though carried to her by the winds. She even swore she could hear the faint howl of a wolf in the distance. For a moment she wondered if she would miss these hills, these smells, these sounds, but the thought soon gave way to darker ones.

A daughter’s worry had begun to blossom inside her chest like the red and yellow flowers of the Karpatian Phoenix tree. She hoped not to dwell on this feeling, but silence is the most fertile of soils for seeds of worry. As her thoughts raced, images of her papa strung up against the walls ahead or decapitated by a black-hooded executioner before a gleeful crowd sunk her mood further. Each thump of the mare’s hooves on the dirt road became a falling axe on the deadman’s stump. Each stone overturned was a rolling head.

Overwhelmed and unable to break free of her fears, the cub started to welp. At the pitiful sound, Kaleia’s heart broke. She let the horse’s lead fall from her hands and pulled her sobbing niece into her arms.

The two continued like this for a little way past the wild, bountiful Argonian countryside until the dirt trail beneath them crossed a cobbled trail—the Outer Circle. The cobbled trail ran along the wall about one-hundred steps from the guard’s keep at the gate. Close enough now to discern the fuzzy shapes of men in the distance, Kaleia ensured Sula’s hood was in place and broke their embrace.

Argonia’s western wall towered high enough above them now to blot out their view of the jade Lithos mountains. When the two reached the keep they were funneled into a wooden corral, the entrance to which had a sculpture on either side.

Kaleia on the left passed a handsome, marble visage of the Divine Founder, striking quite the impression. His war-armor reminded her of her husband’s. Beside the Divine Founder was a newer, brighter piece of marble that had been hastily cut away into the figure of a little boy. The Prince, she concluded almost chuckling at how sloppily the child had been cut. At the feet of both lay daggers and short swords of green bronze. Fitting tributes from men of arms.

Sula on the right found a more serene statue. A round-faced maiden of great, but reserved beauty held forth a dish of water. Its contents poured over the lip into a cascade that fell to her feet where a bouquet of argonium had been arranged. While the maiden was carved of clean, white marble her irises and the water of her dish were of a blue stone with which Sula had no familiarity. Sula’s legs went stiff around the mare. Though this sculpture of the Water Goddess was made to be calming—a reassurance of safety and care—for those about to pass into inspections, for Sula the Goddess was far more terrifying than the Warrior King and his Prince.

Past the statues stood two guards, clad in armor that bunched and lopsided. Kaleia guessed that it had been hastily thrown on. Because of the holiday, she and the cub were likely the only two on the road. The two guards unfortunate enough to have to work clearly had not expected anyone to pass.

The guard closest Kaleia looked down on her with suspicious eyes that were as black as his hair. His dress was disheveled, but he wore his armor well; its weight did not crumple him as it did the inexperienced recruit beside him. The recruit was tall enough that he could meet the horseback cub’s eyes without any particular effort, though he refused to. He instead looked in every direction but straight. Though tall, the recruit held his height awkwardly, one shoulder so much below the other that his breastplate slid down enough to leave the side of his long, stick-reed neck unprotected.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

The dark-haired guard spoke first, rather he did all the speaking. The recruit made no effort at all except to blink the sleep out of his eyes.

“Good morning, Madam. How may I be of a service to you?” The affectation in his low grumbles grated against Kaleia’s ears. From the first word she knew she would not like the fellow. She would much rather a power-tripping fool make demands of her than a plains-winding serpent try to cajole her business out of her.

Kaleia wasted no words. In an instant she had reached into her leather travel sack and produced a coin the size of Sula’s palm. Sula recognized it as a travel coin used to gain admittance to or exit from a city in Argonia. Though the one Kaleia held was a fake that Philos had commissioned years ago from a trustworthy smith in case of emergency. The guard plucked the forgery from her fingers and gave its bronze surface a thorough scan.

Etched into its surface was a bearded face with the same sunken eyes as those of the warrior statue Kaleia had passed at the corral. A knot reading ‘Ever in service of He, whether here or abroad’ was inscribed at the outer edge of the coin, coiling around King Argus’ visage. He turned the coin over and scrutinized the almost random patterns of lines and figures and markings on its reverse side which were used to distinguish one coin from another. Only the Divine smiths and the gate guards could read the symbols and knew which were legitimate and which were fake.

A minute passed and Kaleia worried her husband had doomed their endeavor to meet a shallow end, for the punishment for possessing a forged travel coin was death by drowning. Sula too began darting fearful side-eyes at her aunt. Had the guard in front of the cub not been so tired, he would have probably noticed this and grown suspicious.

Finally, with a satisfied nod of his head, the guard flipped the coin back to Kaleia. She tried at catching it, but it slipped between her nervous fingers and clattered against the stone below. Like an orange-eyed sparrowhawk plucking up an unfortunate wart-frog between its talons, she swooped it and was up again.

“So? May we pass?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at the guard.

“Does the little gentleman have a coin as well, Madam?” He held out an open hand.

“Yes.” She fished out another coin from her pack and pressed it hard into his palm. “It’s right here, Sir.”

He repeated the process with this coin but was quicker to determine its legitimacy. He handed this one back with a genuine smile. Kaleia dropped her guard and smiled back. Perhaps she had misread him.

The guard motioned to his companion and they both cleared the way, taking opposite sides. Sula sighed in relief and Kaleia gathered up the mare’s lead. But as she moved forward, both guards took a step to block her path.

“I do apologize, Madam,” he nearly chuckled, unable to hide the delight in his voice. “I am under orders to let no persons leave today. It seems there has been some trouble at the capital and fugitives are on the loose. I don’t mean to worry you, but isn’t that just horrible? Speaking of, that lad seems to ma—”

“Listen here!” Kaleia could no longer contain her frustration and it came boiling out in a shout. “I am the wife of Philos, the Captain of the Divine Guard. I could have your head on a pike if I so desired. Now, I demand that you let me through!”

Desperate, Kaleia tried to push between the guards, but neither would give. The taller guard grabbed her by the shoulders, but Kaleia broke free of his hold and took a step back. The experienced guard gave her a toothy smile. She scowled back. Sula looked on, past the guards and toward the cluster of woods that spread out beyond the gate. She could hear the thudding gallop of horses in the distance.

“I believe you are Kaleia, wife of Philos, for I have seen you beside him and heard the praises he heaps upon you to his fellow guards, but him,” the guard pointed to Sula. “I do not know who he is. I have never seen that boy. Not in the capital. Not coming through my gate. Perhaps, if I could see his face below the hood, I might remember and be more willing to—” He stopped and nodded in Sula’s direction.

“He is of no concern to you,” Kaleia exploded, face now red and eyes electric. “My husband will be hearing of you. That’s for certain! What is your name?”

The guard turned to Kaleia for a moment to smile and then turned back to Sula as the gangly guard reached his skeletal fingers toward her hood. The cub leaned back as far she could, hoping to weave out of his reach, but he seemed to grow longer until he grabbed hold of its rim. He yanked, but Sula held it down by the sides.

The girl had seemingly won the bout, when suddenly the once distant gallops crashed hard and loud behind her.