In the Skin of a Nunqua (32 page)

*

Commander Gy stomped to the tent with the Willovian flag flying high above it. Next to the blue flag embroidered with a falcon was the black flag of the Nunqua.

Gy’s shoulder and chest were bandaged. The arrow had embedded in his muscle. It was removed, and medicine applied to the wound. It still hurt like hell. The pain only intensified his anger.
Damn that woman.
Shanti had used him. Baylova was dead—killed by Shanti—and that scheming, stubborn, murdering woman had declared herself queen of not just one country but two.

“Out of my way,” Gy said to the soldiers guarding the queen’s tent.

They barred him from entering. “No weapons inside, by Her Majesty’s orders.”

Then I’ll kill her with my bare hands
.

He gave the guards his sword, and they let the high commander pass.

He went inside, teeth clenched tight, and stopped when he saw the strange scene. Shanti was on the ground, her feet elevated on a chair. Commander Kyros was bent over her, as was General Seiko. Shanti babbled, her words jumbled in incomplete sentences. She was scarred, bloody, burnt. Faded spots covered her neck and forehead. On a table were three swords and two locks of hair, one braided.

Commander Jun was also inside the tent, standing away from Shanti with his arms crossed. “She’s in shock.”

A short warrior clad in black, with bands circling his biceps, and war paint on his face, stood at the other side of the tent. “She’s not in shock. She’s been drugged. The drug increases her aggression.”

“Who are you?” Gy said.

“Tracker.”

“What happened in the arena?”

Jun glared at Tracker as he answered Gy’s question, “She won’t say. Keeps mumbling about fates worse than death, retribution,
anaya say
something.”

“
Anaya say midea,
” General Seiko said. “Strength of will. Breathe, Shanti. It’s over.” Seiko moved toward Gy. “At least,
I
believe the war is over.”

“I declared the war over once and got shot by a Nunqua arrow!”

“An honorable scar,” Seiko said. “Wounded in battle with thousands of enemy warriors bearing down upon you. Fire raging, courageous men giving their last breath for love of country, and witch battling witch. My warriors respect such a mark.”

“What about Shanti?” Gy said. “Where did all her scars come from? And I’m not talking about the ones on her arms.”

“General Delartay,” Tracker answered.

“I didn’t know he mistreated her so,” Seiko said, “or I would have killed him myself. She was always so careful, so full of secrets.”

Shanti moaned, and Seiko glanced at her.

“Years ago, my brother was involved with a Willovian woman. She’s my . . . I’m not sure of the word in your language. She’s my relative? Kin?”

Jun’s eyebrows rose. “She’s your niece?”

“That’s it. Yes.”

“
You’re
her uncle?” Gy said.

“Yes.”

“You used your own niece as bait to lure Baylova to the arena?” Gy said.

“That was General Delartay’s plan. I told her to stay away from the battle, invited her to stay in my home with my family, far away from the fighting. She’s always been so defiant, just like her father.”

Shanti moved her feet off the overturned chair and kicked it aside. She curled into a tight ball, with arms tucked close to her body. Kyros left her side to join the men talking. “Her pupils are returning to normal. The drug’s wearing off.”

“It’s not the drug,” Jun said. “It’s the shock of what she’s just been through.”

“I failed,” she said. “Baylova’s failure is my failure. She’s dead.”

“Did you kill Baylova?” Gy asked.

“My sword did not strike the blow. Caravey . . . I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Did you kill General Delartay?”

“I did my duty.”

“Queen Shantova?” Gy said.

Her face had the faraway look of someone who had witnessed war for the first time. It was a good sign. Anyone who witnessed death, or caused it, and did not suffer was unworthy to rule. His anger faded, and he sneered at her, lying there on the floor in a fetal position. “You’re pathetic, wallowing in self-pity like a pig wallows in its own shit.”

“I know what you’re doing, Gy,” she said.

He sighed in relief. She would get through this. “Then be the leader I taught you to be. Be the queen.”

“Shanti,” she said. “Just Queen Shanti. Nunqua retain their lands, and Willovia leaves. The Outer Boundaries will be a memorial open to both countries.”

“I believe that’s a fair offer,” Gy said.

“Agreed.” General Seiko shook hands with Commander Gy.

A woman wearing a brown uniform entered. She carried a pouch on her back, with a strap over one shoulder. “Sirs, if you will please back up.” The woman took a small container out of the pouch.

“Wait.” Seiko raised his hand toward the woman.

“It’s medicine,” she said.

“Let me see it.”

She handed Seiko the container. He sniffed, then abruptly turned his head from the fumes.

“Smelling salts,” the woman said.

Seiko gave back the container.

“Out,” she ordered. “With all due respect, I can’t help her with everyone standing around. Out!”

“No one goes near the arena,” Shanti said. “No one.”

32

Catacombs

T
he citizens of
Willovia lined the streets for the funeral of Queen Baylova. Six horses pulled an open carriage. Red velvet covered the burnt remains inside the carved wooden casket, and an abundance of wisteria and gardenias draped the carriage. One royal guard led Baylova’s stallion, saddled yet riderless, through the procession. Queen Shanti walked behind the carriage, wearing a blue dress and red sash. A simple gold band adorned her intricately braided hair, and faded spots covered her skin. Somber citizens whispered to each other as she passed. Whether they said good things or bad, she didn’t know.

Commander Gy, Commander Kyros, and General Seiko walked behind Shanti. Royal guards and soldiers marched behind the high commanders to the beat of drums. Every Willovian in the procession wore a red armband. Two hundred Nunqua warriors in impressive black uniforms also marched in the solemn parade. No Nunqua wore red in mourning. Shanti noticed many Willovian citizens turn their backs to the Nunqua. She must be patient. Healing the wounds of war would take time.

The procession wound slowly through the cobblestone streets of Erbaut and ended at the royal catacombs. A stone entryway narrowed to a tunnel cut out of rock, leading to the tombs of Willovia’s kings and queens. Royal guards closed the lid of the casket, then carried the remains into a torchlit passageway. Commander Gy, Commander Kyros, and General Seiko followed. Shanti stared at the entrance to the tunnel. Petrified.

She had to see this through. It was her duty. Shanti entered the catacombs, and the ground immediately sloped downward. Sarcophagi of long-dead royals lined the subterranean maze. It was the burial place of kings and queens, heroes and legends. The air smelled like wet dirt, mold, and worms. Her skin itched. The bristly legs of an insect tickled her neck—a cockroach controlled by Baylova. Shanti swiped her neck and felt nothing there. She descended farther into the tunnels, past the tombs of Queen Serova, the stillborn prince, and King Magen.

Royal guards placed the casket on a stone table inside a vault. More flowers decorated the crypt. Workers layered bricks across the vault opening and mortared them into place. Almost over. A high-pitched squeak assaulted her ears. Bats—thousands of flying creatures she couldn’t see or control with her newfound power—were somewhere in the catacombs. The brick wall was almost complete. A terrible idea entered her brain: this was a trap.

They must be sealing the entrance to the catacombs just as they were sealing the opening of the tomb. They planned to shut her inside forever, the half-blood witch and self-proclaimed queen of two countries.

Shanti stole away from the entourage of mourners to find her way out. Tunnel connected to tunnel. She wandered about, lost, terrified, covering her ears with her hands to shut out the squeaking of bats. She lifted her skirt and ran through the labyrinth with eyes dilated to see in the unlit passageways. The noise stopped. In front of her was an undecorated tomb. Above the sealed crypt was a plaque. On that sign was only one name, the letters covered in gold: “SHANTI.” A gentle tapping came from inside the vault. Then a strong pounding. Someone inside, trying to get out.

Buried alive. She would be entombed forever. Alone. No light, no food, no way out. And no hope of death to save her. A vision, a recurring dream. The reason she hated tunnels.

She ran, closing her eyes and feeling her way along the walls. When she opened her eyes, she saw a light that did not come from a torch. Shanti sprinted toward the light and up the slope until she was out of the catacombs. White clouds floated like balls of cotton in the sky. She filled her lungs with clean, sweet air. Royal guards and military leaders calmly stepped out of the catacombs. Kyros, Gy, and Seiko walked over to her.

Kyros bowed his head slightly, his face no longer reflecting the horrors of war but, in their place, a hint of amusement. “I would never have guessed you to be claustrophobic.”

Shanti lifted her arm to blot the sweat off her brow with her sleeve. Then, thinking about the fine material of the dress, she lowered her arm. “We can’t all be fearless of everything, Commander Kyros.”

He gave her a handkerchief.

She wiped her forehead and offered to return the cloth.

“Keep it,” he said.

“Commander Kyros, I need seven of your best royal guards to serve as my security and accompany me on a trip.” She turned to Seiko. “I also need seven Nunqua warriors to serve in the same capacity. I’d like Tracker to be among them.”

Seiko nodded.

“And Yasmine,” Shanti said. “Have them meet me on the docks tomorrow morning. There’s one more funeral to be taken care of.”

Shanti went to Baylova’s stallion and patted its gleaming coat while resting her head on the flank. She took off the saddle, blue blanket, and bridle, then awkwardly carried the gear over to the carriage, trying not to soil or wrinkle her expensive dress in the process. Soldiers took the gear from her and finished the job. Being royalty was going to take some getting used to. Shanti smacked the stallion on the rump. “Go.”

The animal whinnied and galloped away. Free.

*

Heavy cloth sails billowed in the wind, moving the ship smoothly through the sea. Shanti stood alone at the bow, feeling the cool spray on her skin. Romantic notions of traveling to faraway places entered her brain. She longed to forget her responsibilities, leave Willovia, seek new adventures. She longed for anonymity. Those days were gone. Baylova’s curse was now hers. In some warped way, it was right.

She walked about the deck with arms crossed behind her back. Willovian soldiers conversed on one side of the ship; Nunqua warriors congregated on the other side. The tension between the two groups was palpable. The captain had issued a stiff warning that anyone, whatever their breed or rank, caught fighting aboard his ship would be immediately thrown into the brig. How could she get the Willovians and Nunqua to work together? Her royal guards must set the example.

Shanti descended a narrow ladder to the cavernous hold below, to view the ship’s only cargo: a simple pinewood casket.

She opened the creaky lid. Black cloth, the same color as the warriors’ uniforms, shrouded the corpse. On top of the cloth rested Caravey’s sword, cleaned of blood and gore and buffed to a mirrorlike shine. Holes perforated the wood of the casket. The inside was lined with rocks. Heavy chains had been wrapped around the black covering to ensure that the body remained at the bottom of the sea. Shanti wiped away a tear, lamenting her mistake. Someone watched from the shadows—Jun.

She turned away to hide her emotions and heard his footsteps climb the ladder.

The casket was brought up to the deck and perched on the edge, ready to be slid overboard, into the deep. Nunqua warriors put their right hands on the casket and spoke short words honoring the fallen general. They closed their fists over their hearts in a final salute.

Shanti opened the lid to remove Caravey’s sword. Ribbons of black and red were tied to the handle. “It will be melted down,” she said, “for the scars he gave to me.”

Warriors pushed the casket off the ship. It splashed into the sea, floated briefly, then sank as water filled it.

Shanti gave Caravey’s sword to the captain, to secure in his quarters until they were back on land. She stood at the bow again, watching water sparkle in the rays of the sun. Jun joined her.

“I’ll never understand you,” he said. “You helped me escape the prisoner-of-war camp, slept with me, and yet I see you crying in private over his corpse. And then you order his sword melted.”

A dolphin swam alongside the ship. Its glossy gray body emerged from the water, jumping in and out of the wake. More dolphins surfaced alongside the ship. “Do you really think I was crying over the corpse of Caravey?” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“Caravey’s body isn’t in that coffin.”

He considered her words before speaking. “What did you do?”

“I kept my promise to Baylova.”

Jun watched the dolphins. “You didn’t. Not even you would be so treacherous as to . . . You switched the bodies?”

“There’s a purpose to everything I do.”

“If the citizens of Willovia ever found out . . . If the Nunqua ever found out . . .” Jun stared at her in disbelief.

“The people of both countries would tear the limbs from my body and feed them to the pigs.”

A pelican flew low over the water.

“If Baylova were truly upset about my actions, those dolphins would be sharks. And they’d be angry. Everyone believes that because of the drug, I don’t remember what happened in the arena, but I remember everything. I called her ‘queen of Willovia,’ told her she passed the Guardians’ test. Then Caravey stepped behind her and cut her throat. She was unarmed. I stole her sword and led her to battle. I didn’t think Caravey would stoop so low as to kill an unarmed woman. I was naive to believe that war was just a game. Her death is my fault. This is my punishment: being queen in her stead. I have something to ask you.”

“What is it?”

“I’m making a trip to Tokana with my newly formed guards. I’d like you to go with us as commander of the guard.”

Jun leaned on the wooden railing, his usual smug self. “Queen or not, you can’t order me around.”

“Yes, I can. I need someone good with a sword, able to lead these guards and form them into a cohesive unit. You can also teach me the code, at night—just you and I, alone. I’m not giving you an
order
to take the position; I’m giving you a choice.”

“Why is Tracker part of your guard?” Jun said. “He was one of Delartay’s warriors.”

“Because he’s the best at what he does. And we were friends once. If you accept the position of commanding my guards, you’ll outrank him.”

“I’ll think about it.”

They watched the dolphins cavorting in the wake until the animals tired of the game and disappeared under the water. Jun and Shanti headed toward the stern of the ship. Willovians and Nunqua were gathered together. Tracker sat in the center of the group and spoke in heavily accented Willovian. “ When Queen Shanti was training, General Delartay made her ride the meanest, nastiest, foulest-smelling nag you ever wanted to see. Its hair was matted and gray except for the hindquarters, which had no hair and was a repulsive pink. It kept biting her and running away. What was the name of that horse again?”

“Boenase,” Shanti said. “Bones.”

“Bones, that’s right. Anyway, we kept teasing Sha . . . Queen Shanti about the darts she wore on the wristlet on her arm. Nobody believed they were poisonous.”

“Teasing?” Shanti said. “I believe you mean ‘tormenting.’”

“To prove us wrong, she shot that demon of a horse with a dart. The next day, Bones was lying in the field with its legs straight up in the air like four tree trunks.”

“I put it out if its misery,” Shanti said.

“The stench was horrible,” Tracker continued. “And the flies. You should have seen the hole we had to dig to bury the carcass. We cut off its legs to make it fit in the hole. So what does General Delartay do when he hears Shanti killed one of the horses and wasted a whole day of training so the team could bury it? He gave her his horse.
Gave
it to her. She won every race from then on.”

“He didn’t give it to me. We bartered for it.”

“What did you give him in return for his horse?” Jun asked.

“When’s dinner?” Shanti said. “I’m starving.” She saw Yasmine sitting alone and left the men to sit next to her. “You’ll have to learn the Willovian language.”

“Why did you choose me as your guard?”

“Because we both need a second chance. I want you to take the body art off, too—the symbols of strength you paint on your skin.”

Yasmine said nothing.

“Have you ever been to the grand arena in Tokana?” Shanti said.

“Once, when I was a child.”

“I remember the first time I went there with General Delartay’s team. On the days before the competition, I wore a dress and wasn’t allowed to practice with the men. Everyone thought I was Delartay’s servant girl. The other teams would try to coax information out of me concerning the general’s strategy. Believe me, the games start much sooner than on the first day of the contest. When the other competitors saw me riding into the crowded arena with the team, wearing a black uniform with a sword on my back and a lock of hair around my neck, they were stunned. On the third day of the contest, when they found out I was the daughter of the great warrior Shintar, they went wild. And on the last day of the competition, when I changed my appearance in front of everyone, well, let’s just say, even you knew who I was before I had the chance to tell you my name. We had such fun!”

“It takes at least ten warriors to enter the competition at the grand arena. Most teams bring more to replace the warriors who get hurt. You have fourteen personal guards. Are you planning on making us compete?”

“Perhaps,” Shanti said. “Convince people of your strength by your actions and not the symbols on your skin, learn the Willovian language, and we’ll work on your fighting skills.”

“There’s a rumor that you and General Delartay were . . . close. Why melt his sword?”

“Caravey and I were close before I realized that not all his actions were honorable.” Shanti smelled fish being fried in the ship’s galley—maybe shrimp or crab—and her stomach growled in response.

“Thank you,” Yasmine said, “for the second chance.”

“Welcome to the team.”

*

Shanti walked through the halls of the castle to the portrait room and found Aiden there. Splotches of paint spattered his shirt and hands. He moved the lower left corner of a frame on the wall, then backed away to gauge its straightness. The portrait was of Baylova. A graceful gold crown adorned her head. Long hair tumbled down her right shoulder, and her skin had the appearance of porcelain. The fingernails of her left hand were black. “It’s perfect,” Shanti said. Sealed in a case directly below the portrait was Baylova’s sword.

“What do the symbols you made me put in the portrait mean?”

“The wolf and wasps represent her power, the Willovian hawk symbolizes her going to war with the soldiers, the blue robe she’s stepping on shows her defeat of the monks, and the two red rosebuds in her hand, never to open, are for you.”