Calimyr stretched and rolled her shoulders. “I hate mornings,” she grumbled, untangling herself from her cloak as she stood. She’d been travelling for days to deliver her father’s message to a duke from Isla de Rae. Her horse, Rhys, tossed his head and plodded up to her, his ruddy coat caked with dust from rolling in the mud. “Hey boy,” Calimyr said softly, patting his neck.
Running a hand down his dark brown back sent dust flying, Calimyr walked over to where she’d stashed his tack. She hauled his saddle over to him and onto his back. Once the girth was tight, his bridle was on, and she double checked to make sure the message was still in her saddlebags, Calimyr climbed onto Rhys’ back and nudged him forward. She didn’t hold the reins at first; she was too busy searching her pack for something to eat. She settled for a piece of bread and a hunk of dried meat.
As the day drew on and the sun rose ever higher, Calimyr once again wondered what the message was about. Surely it couldn’t be a treaty. Her father would never stoop so low as to ask another ruler for aid—his pride was far too important to him. On the other hand, Calimyr knew she wouldn’t do such a thing either, and as the next head of the seven Tribes, she knew she had to be stronger than having to rely on others.
After a short time, Calimyr urged Rhys into a canter across the sandy terrain, dodging between occasional trees and underbrush. No more than a dark smudge on the horizon, Calimyr could see Isla de Rae coming ever nearer. I should be there by sunset. Sooner if I don’t stop to rest.
And she didn’t. Calimyr rode hard until she could hear the bustle of the village surrounding the Isla de Rae Castle. The stone walls around the village, and the spires and turrets of the castle were all Calimyr could see.
A bird high in the sky cried out as it circled the town. Looking up, Calimyr watched the bird, its body ablaze, as it scouted the walled village. “Jerikai? What’re you doing here?” she mumbled, urging Rhys into a faster lope. The Firebird flew behind the castle and vanished from her sight, but his call echoed in her mind. Something foul was taking place beyond the walls of Isla de Rae.
Not even a full minute later, Calimyr stood just in front of the looming white gates of the city. Few people were passing through the gates, and Calimyr suddenly felt slightly more nervous, tugging gently on her cape to ensure it covered her shoulders and back. Although her black hair still marked her as a foreigner.
“Halt, in the name of the king!”
Calimyr’s head jerked up, her stormy eyes locking with the captain of the guards at the gate. His rank was made obvious by the insignia on his shoulder: a scarlet band with the king’s crest. “Is there a problem, captain?” she asked, attempting to use her firmest voice in a display of what she hoped was authority.
“What business do you have in our city?” he asked sternly. He had a scar under his cloudy left eye. His face tapered off into a short, pointed red beard underlining his scowl. Calimyr had seen many men like him, who thought being a captain meant looking the part, but his true talents were questionable in her eyes.
“I carry a message for the Duke Ranchester, from High Chief Riovan of the Seven Tribes,” Calimyr said, much like she had so many other times in other cities.
“You’re a messenger?” the captain asked doubtfully.
She nodded fluidly. Their doubt was well deserved; Chief Riovan and his people — including Calimyr — blamed the Raeans for their downfall. And although this captain didn’t know it, Calimyr was the only child of Chief Riovan, and most likely to succeed him.
“Thoran, come. We are to escort this Tribal Messenger to the castle,” the captain said, snatching hold of Rhys’ reins, causing the stallion snorted and side-stepped nervously. Calimyr ran a hand down his neck and forced the scowl from her face. This man had no business touching her horse.
A woman broke away from the other guards and sauntered up to the captain, her right hand resting on the pommel of her sword. Her pale brown hair was pulled back to the nape of her neck and her bright blue eyes shone with pride. The deep green band on her right sleeve marked her as a first lieutenant. “Been quite a while since we’ve had the… pleasure of a Tribe’s presence, hasn’t it Captain Alivan?” Thoran said harshly. It seemed like she’d rather spit on Calimyr than escort her.
Captain Alivan nodded stiffly and the two led Calimyr through the massive, shimmering white gates. The captain didn’t seem like a man of many words. Judging from the way they acted as they led her up the crowded cobble-stone streets, she doubted they saw her as an actual threat. This was their homeland, and should Calimyr prove to be dangerous, they assumed they could defeat her easily.
It wasn’t her first time inside the White Walls, as they were called. Yet, the stark beauty of Isla de Rae both amazed and angered her. Her father’s land had once been fruitful, but he was too stubborn to build any sort of fortress. The Raeans drove him and the rest of the Tribes from the land, creating a long-standing grudge between the two.
The people here seemed happy; carefree even. Houses, shops, and venders hawking their wares lined the streets. A couple of boys and girls were herding some goats and sheep up the road. The place was alive with music and noise. Not far beyond the gates was the castle itself, with twisted spires and towers. Flags flapped in the wind from the loftiest heights. Much like the gates, the castle was whitish-gray and seemed to shimmer in the light in some places, almost as if it were a mirage.
It wasn’t long until they reached the bridge that led to the looming castle. Thoran fell into place behind Calimyr and Captain Alivan as they crossed the large wooden bridge. The chains on either side told her they were ready for battle… provided the enemies were afraid of water. Once they left the town and the bridge behind them, they were plodding along a well-worn path.
Her brow furrowed when the sound of another horse and wagon reached her ears. Calimyr had the urge to pull Rhys off the road but, with the captain and lieutenant on either side, her only choice was to continue on the way she was headed. If they found it as a threat, they’d do something. Nevertheless, when the cart came into view, Calimyr’s entire body went rigid. Rhys could sense her discomfort and shuffled to the side, tossing his head.
The man leading the cart looked at first glance, just like a normal farmer. But on a closer look, he appeared as though he’d seen far more fights and battles than an average farmer. On instinct, Calimyr’s hand went to her blade, her muscles tense. However, Thoran and Captain Alivan seemed unfazed by this man, simply nodding as he passed.
His face was burned in her mind: deep-set brown eyes, thinning brownish-silver hair, a scraggly beard. He had a square jaw and bushy eyebrows with wrinkles between from years of being scrunched together. There was a scar running from his forehead, across his nose, down his jaw, and vanished under his shirt. That man had had a close call and lived to tell about it.
Calimyr decided to keep quiet about it though. It wasn’t her problem unless it involved the Tribes, or a job she was hired to handle. “I can be anything you need me to be,” she’d tell them. Often times it was as a spy or thief, although she’d done several bounty-hunter jobs, posed as a noblewoman from another land, and assassinated an aristocrat. And all her father told her to do was deliver a message. She had felt demoted, but she’d had little choice in the matter and agreed.
“Dismount,” Captain Alivan said briskly, yanking Rhys to a stop. Rhys whickered and tossed his head again, his ears laid flat against his skull. Calimyr realized they had reached the castle and the vast amount of stone stretching in every direction made her begin to feel trapped. Another large gateway loomed just in front of them, and the commotion beyond was unmistakable. The gates would be opened when Captain Alivan gave the signal.
“Easy, easy boy,” Calimyr said, slipping out of the saddle and ripping his reins from Captain Alivan’s hands. “Don’t yank him around. He’s not stupid,” she growled, barely managing to contain herself so as not to slap the captain.
“He’s just an animal, Messenger. Now, hurry. We can’t keep the duke waiting any longer,” Captain Alivan said sternly, a scowl still on his face.
“He doesn’t even know I’m here yet, there’s no need to beat my horse up in your haste. I am not uneducated in the ways of the courts of the nobles,” Calimyr snapped. She hadn’t even met the more important nobles yet, and already she was tired of the captain and everyone else in the town. The sooner she could leave the better for her and Rhys.
“Thoran, take the messenger’s horse and have the stable hands feed him,” Captain Alivan ordered. He raised his left hand and the gate began to slowly rise.
Thoran sighed and walked up to Rhys’ head and grabbed hold of the reins. She scowled when Calimyr didn’t let go of him. “He better not be hurt when I get him,” she said as she let Thoran take him. The lieutenant huffed and led him towards the half-raised gate. She ducked under and Rhys followed suit as they disappeared to the right.
Captain Alivan led Calimyr past the final set of gates and into the massive courtyard of the Isla de Rae castle. The sheer size of the castle made Calimyr feel smaller than she had since standing by the sea as a little girl. Guards roamed the walls and one even raised his bow at her, notching an arrow and preparing to release. Captain Alivan raised his arm, fingers in fists, and the soldier lowered his weapon. Calimyr followed Alivan, keeping her eyes on his trailing red cloak.
Few commoners milled about the courtyard; instead it was mainly guards and the hierarchy of the land. Women in bright garb hung on the arms of handsome men. Judging by the insignias on their cloaks or shoulders, some must have been ambassadors from farther lands, while others were lords of nearby provinces and others still bore the mark of Isla de Rae. She wondered briefly what could have brought them all to the palace at such a time.
She tried not to stare, but the land she stood in was so different from her own that she could barely stomach the idea of being there. Unconsciously, Calimyr stopped walking, gawking up at the display before her. A man in commoner’s attire was being hung over the side of the castle. Already he looked in pain, and almost on the verge of death.
“Keep walking, messenger,” snapped Captain Alivan.
“What barbarity is this?” she mumbled, her fingers clenching into fists.
Captain Alivan followed her gaze to the man hanging from the wall. “A traitor. An attempted assassin of the Earl of Dura,” he said stiffly.
“Assassin or not, to make him a display like this… it’s just as bad as cornering and torturing him! I suppose your people don’t understand that those who are assassins typically don’t have any direct relation to whoever they were to kill. The least you could have done for the man was leave him with a small sense of dignity,” Calimyr snapped. She no longer cared about getting yelled at, or any such opinion he may have of her. If he can act like nothing happened, than I want nothing to do with this place. All I have to do is deliver the message and I can get home, she told herself.
“Hold your tongue. Remember your place when in the presence of the Duke,” Captain Alivan said harshly.
I’m not in the presence of the Duke; I’m in the presence of a vile man with no sense of decency. As bitter as she was towards him, Calimyr knew she only had to put up with him for a little bit longer. Once she returned home, she could push both him and this place far from her mind, never having to worry about it again.
Captain Alivan led Calimyr under an archway and they were out of the sun, now walking down a hallway filled with stain-glass windows, each depicting stories in Raean history. On her left spanned the battle of Seran-li, what her people called a massacre; while on her right were several different stories, including the crowning of their current king, and the princess’s birth.
The crisp beauty of the windows astonished her; she thought nothing beautiful or good could ever come from the Raeans. There was once a time when she didn’t think that way, but that was a long time ago, she reminded herself.
“Remember your place,” Captain Alivan said harshly as they stopped in front of a set of ornate oak doors.
Calimyr fought the urge to roll her eyes and brush past the captain. Two servants pushed open the doors. Light filtered out of the room and into the hall. Tapestries and portraits hung on the walls, and the room was filled with windows and sunshine. There was a sectioned off part in the far corner which Calimyr assumed was where the Duke slept, although he could have had a second room elsewhere.
However, she was more surprised by the Duke himself than the grand feast set before a few nobles on the right side of the room. He had slightly wavy, peppered black hair, and by his feet, a white and gray cat stood and stretched. It scurried across the room in a jog and instantly rubbed against Calimyr’s leg. She dropped to her knee to pet the cat, her eyes still locked on the Duke. He stood instantly from his place at the head of the table, his simple tunic and forest green cloak seeming rather out of place among the brightly colored fellows at the table. He crossed the room and stood just in front of her, smiling broadly. Calimyr stood from the cat and inclined her head to the Duke, who returned the gesture. “What brings you here, Calimyr Riovan?” he asked cheerfully. He was just as jovial as she remembered.
“My father sent me with a message for you,” she said, formalities sticking in her throat. It was hard to keep the smile off her face. Duke Ranchester had known her father many years before he became a Duke. Back then, when Calimyr was just a little toddler, he was just known as Jessiah. Although he’d aged somewhat, and his beard was flecked with gray, the laughter in his unusual silver eyes was unmistakable. Whenever he’d come to the Tribes with news of outside lands, Calimyr would sit by his feet and listen as he told stories of his most recent adventure. He was like an uncle to her.
“There’s no need for these formalities between you and I. Alivan, leave us,” Jessiah dismissed.
“My lord?” the captain asked uncertainly.
Jessiah waved his hand in dismissal. Captain Alivan hesitantly clapped his fist over his shoulder and turned briskly on his heel, out of the room. “Now, we can talk without the disapproval of Captain Alivan. He’s such a heartless brute, I tell you,” Jessiah muttered, still grinning but now more with mischief.
Calimyr surveyed the room, her eyes pausing on the nobles in the corner, some eating or laughing, a few staring right at her and Jessiah. He seemed to notice her hesitance and his smile softened. “Don’t worry Cali. They are in no position to accuse anyone,” he said with a wave of his hand.
Calimyr didn’t know what to do. She hadn’t seen Jessiah in almost ten years, yet he clearly remembered her. But the way he saw her, it had to have been the way she was before becoming a seasoned warrior. Despite years of fighting, her resolve crumbled and Calimyr rushed forward, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I’ve missed you, Uncle Jessie,” she said as she hugged him.
“Aye, and I you,” he said, hugging her back.
Calimyr quickly let go and stood up straighter. “I never would have believed you would have gone through with what you said. Yet here you are, in the seat of the Duke you said you’d become,” she said. There was a hint of pride in her voice that made Jessiah grin mischievously the way he used to.
“Now, the way I see it, the only way it could have been possible for you to enter the palace to see me, you must have a message from your father,” he said.
“As to the point as usual. Yes, I do have a message from him,” she said, holding the parchment out to him.
“What could it be about, I wonder,” he murmured as he opened it. He raised an eyebrow at Calimyr as if to ask her the question, but she simply shrugged while struggling to keep the smirk off her face.
“I’ve stopped reading his messages. Although, that was only after he caught onto my schemes and sent me with a fake message that set my hair on fire when I opened it.” Jessiah chuckled, simply imagining the display. Calimyr had trouble holding in her own laughs. While at first it was terrifying, the memory now seemed quite funny.
“I would suggest you find a way to peek. You never know what might be in them regarding you,” he said solemnly.
“My father has too many things to worry about. He won’t waste his time saying anything about me.” It wasn’t as if she really minded though. She could only imagine the things her father might say about her.
