***
The sun had just begun to touch the top of the temple when a rather tired horse stumbled to a stop near the stables. Kohau looked up as pair of stable hands rushed out to see to the animal as the equally tired rider slid from the saddle. He had just stepped out on his way towards the library when the sounds of hooves stole his attention. It had become something of a habit since his return a few days previous to spend every spare moment watching for a particular rider. His feet were moving before he knew it.
“You’re alive.”
A head of scraggly blonde hair turned towards him. “You doubted my return, little scholar?”
“No I … I just … “ He had the strong urge to wrap his arms around her and never let go. Instead he was rewarded with a leather satchel being tossed his way.
“You weren’t expecting me so soon.” Yelve hefted a wooden box onto her shoulder from where it had been behind the saddle. “We’d best not keep manyol waiting.”
“What’s that smell?”
She sighed. “I’d rather only tell this story once.”
Kohau nodded and followed her back to the High Lady’s office he had left not all that long ago. The High Lady and a handful of others in her office jumped as the door bounced off the wall. He hoped that no one really noticed him peeking out from behind Yelve’s shoulder.
“What is the meaning of this?”
“Guards, show this woman out!”
Numerous angry voices filled the room, none of them belonging to Yelve or the High Lady. The only elder Kohau could see from where he stood was Elder Tara, and she looked quite pale. He also noticed that the guards had yet to move. They were glancing nervously between Yelve and their mistress.
“If everyone would remain calm, I am certain Guard Yelve has a very good reason for interrupting our meeting.” A sullen silence fell about the room as the High Lady stared down the assembled elders. “Time is precious, Guard Yelve.”
“My apologies for the interruption, High Lady.” Yelve dipped into a slight bow as she brought the box down from her shoulder. “I have ridden through with hardly a stop since I left the camp of raiders at the northern ruins. I thought it would be best if I returned with all possible haste.”
Kohau slipped into a corner near the door, shrugging as one of the guards glanced his way. The door snicked shut as the other guard returned to their previous position. Yelve didn’t seem phased at all by the nasty looks most of the elders were giving her. Her gaze was on the High Lady and no one else.
“You all know of the fate suffered by Elder Fornoth and his family, correct?”
The High Lady nodded as she took her seat again. “Indeed we do.”
“I found those responsible for the attack.” Yelve’s lips turned up in a near feral grin. “I can assure you that there will be no other such attacks upon the good people of Leistros for some time.”
“Preposterous! You alone could not have taken out a group of raiders.” Elder Tara jumped up from her chair, wiping at her brow with a trembling hand. “You’re just some simple minded lap dog.”
Yelve placed the box down in the empty chair. She seemed to enjoy the flinch from Elder Tara as she pulled a dagger from her boot. “It doesn’t take a great deal of intelligence to kill people, Elder.”
“You need to have proof before you accuse an elder of the council Guard Yelve.” The High Lady’s voice was a chill blade that sliced through the mounting tension in the room.
“Forgive me High Lady, I have gotten ahead of myself.” Yelve seemed to laugh to herself at some private joke as she paused in prying the lid from the box. “Scholar Tanlar here is carrying a bag of assorted letters and other items I was able to gather while I visited our friends up north.”
“Yes, we've seen them,” Elder Tara sneered through her words.
Kohau fidgeted, knowing the High Lady had withheld some of the ones she deemed most inflammatory.
“And I've returned with their replies.” Yelve stepped forward and handed her satchel to the high lady. Kohau scowled, though his target didn’t notice as all her attention was on the elder standing frozen a few paces away.
Everyone present seemed to hold their breath as the High Lady pulled out the first bundle of parchment. They watched as her face grew darker and darker with each thing she read.
“You’re certain these weren’t forgeries, or items planted to place blame?”
“That thought had occurred to me High Lady, but since many of them were so personal in nature I had to wonder why someone would go to that much effort to bring down one of the temple elders when it would be much easier to ruin them through trade. And next to the other letters... it would be much more difficult to forge that conversation than a handful of orphaned missives.” Yelve let the lid from the box slide to the floor. “Then, in a rare moment of brilliance, a solution presented itself for me. And so I have returned to the temple with a gift.”
“A gift for who?” One of the other elders interrupted.
“Our dear Elder Tara of course.”
Kohau had to swallow quickly a few times to keep the bile at bay. A man’s severed head dangled from Yelve’s fist as she held it out to Elder Tara. The elder lunged forward with a wordless cry of rage only to come to a stop with a dagger pressed to her throat. Next to him the guards shifted, but neither had yet moved to intercept either woman.
“You’re vile. You’ll go down with her, just you wait. He will return and lay waste to all of you.”
“I’m afraid your precious Lord Renat cannot return Elder Tara. Nor will any of the bandits he gathered to him bother Leistros any further.”
“Guards, take Elder Tara to the cells below. See that she is not mistreated. We would not wish to sully our hands as she has.” There was a tiredness behind the High Lady’s command. She looked at Yelve with nothing short of exasperation once the elder, and the head in the box, had been removed from her office. “That is not quite how I would have handled things.”
“I do apologize manyol, my judgment is not always the best when I haven’t slept in days.”
“High Lady, this is a mess we did not need.” It seemed the council members had managed to find their voices again. “Elder Tara can’t simply –“
“Oh, she can, and she will Elder Mankel. I have here letters by her own hand to former High Lord Renat showing how they were planning to remove me, as well as following Elder Fornoth’s death with that of anyone else who had supported me.” She glared at the remaining members. “Our sins have come back to haunt us – and I doubt we can keep things quiet this time.”
“No thanks to this guard of yours.”
Kohau glanced up to see Yelve cleaning her nails with the tip of the dagger that had just moments ago been pressed against Elder Tara’s neck. He had to cough to cover the insane urge to laugh that had come upon him.
“Do you have anything to add, scholar?” Mankel turned and sneered at him.
“Only to say that you’re all idiots, and I’m sorry the High Lady has to deal with you at all.” He turned towards the lady in question. “If you’ve no further need for us right now my lady…”
“You may leave Scholar Tanlar, and take this ruffian with you. See that she’s cleaned and fed at some point.”
“Of course High Lady.”
He bowed and turned towards the door, dragging Yelve along behind him. She remained silent until they were halfway across the courtyard outside.
“Where’s that nervous little scholar I left with not so long ago?”
“He was pressed into service riding around the countryside with this crazy guard.”
“That bad?”
“Not all of it. But did you really have to bring back the head in the box?” Kohau couldn’t help the shudder that ran down his spine. “You made quite a mess for the High Lady to clean up.”
“She’ll return the favor, trust me. I’m more interested in a bath and a clean bed right now. Unless you want to join me in the fountain over there.”
r /> “Maybe later.”
Their laughter earned them a few dirty looks from those gathered in the meditation garden, but Kohau found he didn’t care much right then. Not with the warm smile hiding behind the grime on her face. They could wait until tomorrow to worry about what came next.
About Rachel Savage
Rachel Savage is a crazy lady with too many hobbies. When not plunking away at the keyboard torturing characters (and editors), she can be found with yarn and crochet hook in hand, or surrounded by a pile of fabric. Her husband wonders when she’ll stop taking over the house with her various projects, and the dog just waits for a ball of yarn to steal.
Afterword by Nicolas Wilson
The inspiration for this anthology was a Game of Thrones fan who confronted George R. R. Martin about a lack of diversity in his story, and how much it hurt not to see herself reflected in something she loved. It was a reminder that representation in media isn't about political correctness. It's about belonging, and being accepted in your world.
I'm grateful for those who contributed, and everyone reading this now, and it's my hope that this anthology can speak for and to those who aren't used to being included in fantasy worlds, and that still more authors and readers alike will come, so that it can be truly diverse.
Everyone's got a story to tell, and a right to be heard.
Nicolas Wilson
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