"Caleb, you're going to die."
I sat across from Dariana in the empty tavern. She wore a thick braid of light-green hair with streaks of yellow about her crown and let the rest fall down her back. She'd changed something since leaving to pour us drinks—the top several buttons of her blouse had been undone down to her blue apron.
Before each of us was a quart mug of wood slats with iron rings around the top and bottom like a small barrel, topped with white foam that filled the air with bold promises. I glanced at her mug, then my own, and she erupted in laughter. In unison, we each hoisted our drinks. I poured that sharp liquid down my throat as fast as I possibly could, struggling with the reflex to take a break. I forced it down to the foam when I heard her mug slam back onto the table.
She wiped drips from her chin and smiled wide at me. I scrunched my nose and put my cup down. Then I took it up again and sipped, allowing the bitter ale to saturate my tongue; I needed that. "Most people die at some point in their lives, usually towards the end of it."
Dariana rolled her eyes at me and shook her head. "You're going off to war. If they were sending you to Kulun, I'd tell you to keep quiet and don't stand out. But Carthia… no one survives Carthia."
I breathed in deep and caught the sage and dmusu, carried in by the mist from the planter just outside the window. Beside the bar was the narrow staircase that led up to the guest rooms. And to think, had her mother not caught us in one of those rooms, I wouldn't be going off to die a virgin. "Surely someone's made it out alive? People live there, right?"
Dariana sat up straight and lowered her light-green eyes to the dregs in her cup. "Carthia is a death trap. I hear things. The Empire doesn't want people talking about it, but I hear things. They've been doing this for years—call up men, they die, call up some more, they die, and call up some more. If rumors are true, these past few months have been especially bad; there's been talk of petitioning the Duke to put an end to it."
"How are they dying?"
She cocked an eyebrow. "It's a war, Caleb."
"Do you…" I needed a moment for the words to catch up to where my mind was trying to go, so I took another sip. I felt her foot brush against my leg beneath the table. I asked, "what's… what's it like? Uh… what's there?"
Dariana shrugged and looked blankly down at the table. "Pirates, black magic, monsters in the woods…"
The door thudded open, and Sarina's boots clicked over the stone floor as she rushed towards us. She glanced at me, then at Dariana. Then she looked between our empty mugs, looked at her again, and turned to face me. "We need to talk."
Dariana swooned. "Hello, Sarina. How are you?"
Sarina fixed her black eyes onto my drinking companion. "I'm sorry. Hello, how are you?" Then she turned back to me. "We need to talk."
I nodded and shifted in my seat. I stood, then turned back to Dariana and waited a moment for the room to follow. "Father Yewan has dinner planned in the great hall this evening. Will I see you there?"
Dariana's light-green eyes sparkled at me. "Of course!"
With that, I took Sarina's hand, and she towed me back outside only to smash the top of my head against the door jamb on our way out. I tried to rub the shooting pain out of my skull, but Sarina kept tugging at my wrist.
Outside, the rain had mostly abated, and swords of light shot through the clouds high in the mountains. I was still reeling from the pain of bumping my head when she turned to speak. "I spoke to Lady Wynice. She says they're sending you to some place called Carthia. She says no one ever comes back alive from there."
I smirked, still rubbing my head. "You mean she doesn't know of anyone who…"
"You're not going."
I gazed at her, confused. Sarina looked different from everyone else. Most of the people of Gath were Herali. We had olive-green skin, straight, dark hair, and eyes somewhere between emerald and evergreen, but Sarina looked very different. Her skin was deep yellow—I liked to say it was because of all the sunshine she carried with her. Her hair was a light bronze and given to tight curls that amassed about her face. She used to 'make' me help her comb it out when it got tangled, but I savored every moment of those soft curls in my fingers.
She dragged me beside the pool beneath the waterfall at the center of town where Davod and I used to see who could throw her and Guenevieve farther. She continued to tow me back towards the church while I asked, "I'm intrigued as to how you say I'm not going; I assume you're going to Goloago to tell the Emperor yourself? That's awfully kind of you…"
She shook her head. "You're not going to Carthia. I need you here. My decision is final."
To the left and right, terraced farmland climbed the mountains on both sides like giant staircases just beyond the village. Way up high was the spot where I used to lay my head on Sarina's lap and watch the sunset. I remembered looking up after some crazy joke. The cold mountain air had given her cheeks a flush. She laughed, blissfully unaware of the booger in her nose.
She once braided the left side of my hair all the way down to the small of my back and dared me to walk around like that. Everyone thought we were silly.
We passed by the hot bath with the massive totem out front, and she led me back to the church. We snuck behind the chapel and climbed the narrow, squeaky stairs up to the belfry where we sat together looking out over a sea of tiled roofs. In the distance, the Baron's manse hid behind a line of trees on the ledge.
I stole a moment to look upon her face. Her cheeks were high and soft. Her eyes were the shape of the rising sun and black like coals even when the summer daylight met her that time we stood atop The Punisher. From up there, we had a view for hundreds of miles in all directions, but all I could see was her face. Crying, smiling, broken, and made whole, she'd thrown her arms around me and sobbed.
I still owed God for that one.
"You do not have my permission to go die in some war."
I smirked. "How about an earthquake?"
"I'm serious, Caleb. You can't go."
I breathed in. "It's a sacred duty…"
"No! Fuck you and your sacred duty. You know I can't live without you." She checked the staircase and looked around outside the window, then lowered her voice. "Lady Wynice says she can help us find a place in Heralia City. We lay low for a while, then we can go wherever we want. We'll leave everything behind. Just you and me, we'll…"
"Sarina, you know what they do to men who run from this."
She pulled away and settled her eyes on mine. "So? If you go to Carthia, you die. At least this way we have a chance! I want to choose my own path, and I think you should, too."
"Sarina, listen to me. I can't…"
"No, you listen to me. You can't leave me. What if…" she took a deep breath and continued. "What if I have another episode? What if you're not here? This is different. Don't you see how it's different?"
Was it really that different?
Behind her in the distance, the summit of Mousehead hid in the clouds. Years ago, we'd all gone up together.
I will never forget that day. We'd reached a decision point. We could either follow the trail for another two hours, or climb up the old rockslide and be up in about twenty minutes. Tor and I knew what we wanted to do, of course, so the question was how to convince the others. When we got back to the group, Geraln had left saying he was tired. We later found out he'd eaten all the minicakes Guenevieve's mum had made for us, all by himself.
Meanwhile, the girls had got into some kind of game where they'd put all the boys' names into a hat and took turns prognosticating on who was going to kiss who first. Runya pulled Davod's name. Oh, she was livid! I'll never kiss that bloated buffoon; he can kiss a goat's arse! And she picked up Sarina's hat with all the names in it and threw it down the ravine.
It remains there to this day.
Late that night, Sarina came to stay with me after hearing those voices again. She laid her head on my arm and snuggled in while I wrapped one arm over her and folded her into me.
I'd thought we would go back to sleep like normal. Instead she shuffled up to bring her face close to mine and whispered, "can I do an experiment?"
"Sure."
She kissed me. Just like that. One fleeting moment of her lips on mine, and my heart set fire.
That was both of our first kiss.
Up in the belfry, Rayou flew by and perched on the side overlooking the mill. He dropped a small diamond-tree stone from his beak and cawed. Sarina stared blankly at the black bird, and he cawed again, pecking at the stone and looking at her impatiently. With a sigh, she opened a pouch and gave him a small square of cake. He flew off, and Sarina gazed at the stone without touching it. Ordinarily, she'd have inspected it in direct sunlight.
She was right. Her situation was different, and she needed me. I answered her. "I do understand. I'm here for you as always."
She smiled and shifted over to me, sprawling her body over my chest.
Gorgeous fucking legs. I didn't know anything about that when we were small children hiding in the vineyard while Mother Searnie hunted us down for our lessons, but as I got older, I noticed. We took the old raft down the gauntlet of waterfalls all the way to Ozaria only to hike back and do it again, and I discovered that if I let her walk in front of me, I could bask in the way those wet men's-trousers clung to her skin. And she'd only gotten fitter since then.
I held her in my arms as we watched the crows fight over some scrap on a rooftop nearby. I spoke my thoughts. "So here's the thing. We can run off together, but we need to have a good reason or else the wrong people are going to ask the wrong questions. I don't think telling them that I'm fleeing conscription is the best idea. With you not being ethnically Herali, it's obvious. We eloped."
She sat up and looked at me with a warm smile. "That's a great idea! We can tell them that."
"I don't want to pretend."
At that, her cheeks dropped. She stared at me wide-eyed and her lips cracked open. Then, her gaze traversed my face and my body before returning to me.
My heart pounded.
She swallowed. "Don't go starting fires, Caleb. We went down that road before."
"I know that." I breathed in deep, trying to prepare my mind for that conversation. "I'm a grown man, now. I've learned a lot since then."
She smirked. Her voice oozed sarcasm. "So you've changed?"
I looked at her confidently. "I have."
She fluttered her eyelashes at me and grinned wide. "So, that thing with Talys the other day by the pool was just a show to get Geraln to leave her alone, huh? Because you had me convinced."
"And she already told you…"
"I think you convinced Talys, too. I mean, that was quite a show."
I tilted my head to the side. "What do you mean? Did she say something else…"
"She didn't tell me anything, but I know her, and I know you."
"Sarina, come on. You already know that wasn't anything real. I want real with you. I'm not going to pretend, I'm sorry. I can't. I can pretend with Talys; I can't pretend with you. I feel like that would kill me deep inside. Besides, think about it this way: anyone watching us close enough is going to be able to tell. We have to make it authentic."
"Caleb, stop. You got the summons this morning, and already people are talking like you're going to ask Guenevieve to be your Naveris."
"That's a pagan tradition…"
"You're missing my point. This is you. This is who you are. You attract, it's what you do. I mean, look at you. You like a lot of girls, and a LOT of girls like you. I just… I can't do that."
"Let me ask you this. Do you really think that if I had you for my wife, and we're on the road hiding from the Empire, you really think I'm going to waste my time with other girls?"
She allowed the question to linger in the air. Where we sat, the warm sun filled half the belfry to offset the cool breeze coming off the mountains. I reclined against the wall, propped up by the blanket we kept up there that probably needed a good wash. Sarina lay her head on my chest and closed her eyes. I wrapped her up in my arms. Just the sensation of lifting her up with every breath was sublime. Outside, the low grinding of a bison calling her calf to nurse echoed through the valley.
Sarina sighed. "I need to think about this."
That evening, the sun had dropped beyond Gator's Tail to the west, shooting slivers of light through the trees over the valley below. I stood in the doorway to the church to greet guests as they arrived. Sarina danced from the kitchen and winked at me as she carried an impossible number of wine goblets. She had on a loose white tunic and long dress with a printed pattern that teased at her ankles.
Outside, Davod walked behind Runya, who wore a thick, red fur coat. I bowed low and greeted them with as much pomp and propriety as I could imagine possible. "Good evening lady, good evening gentleman. May I take your coat?"
Davod smirked and shook his head, and Runya folded it over my arm with a warm smile, "why certainly!"
The thing was soft, too, and I couldn't stop stroking it on my way to the hanger. Davod chided me, "Stop that! You'll wear it out!"
Runya poked him in his chest and cooed. "You do that all the time!"
She reached up, grabbed behind his neck, and pulled him down to her level so that she could kiss her bloated buffoon on the lips before walking off to the kitchen.
Davod stood eye-to-eye with me wearing a smirk across his lips. Then he threw his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close to him. "You ready to die?"
"Eh," I shrugged. "I'm still deciding if I'd prefer a sword to my throat, or an arrow through the heart. Although," I perked up, "I hear being burned alive is the latest rage!"
Davod chuckled and released my neck, giving me a once over. "If you get outranged, I will lose all respect for you!"
"Well thanks for that…"
Behind him, Guenevieve walked up the pebble path alongside her mother Yenia. Each of them carried large canvas sacks filled with pastries that hung down nearly to their ankles.
Davod turned to me with a widening grin and popped his eyebrows in rapid succession.
I laughed. "Whatever!"
He chuckled and went inside.
Guenevieve was tall and slim with a handsome face. She'd dressed in a black evening gown that consisted of naught but a silk strip that wrapped around her shoulders, crossed her breasts, and hung down front and back over a belt of rough diamond-tree stones, leaving her sides naked from her feet to her hips to her shoulders.
I looked her up and down twice. "You look nice."
She smiled and looked down for a moment. "Thanks."
I remembered the Bawseth after her father took his own life. Empty cups and plates with scraps of leftovers had littered the great hall, and Father Yewan and Marsans kicked their feet up with a keg of ale for hours laughing and proselytizing one another. Everyone else had gone outside to sing songs to the winter night's sky. I'd come back in to grab a blanket for Sarina when I saw Guenevieve sitting alone by the hearth with melancholy scrawled across her face. I sat with her. We talked right up until Sarina came looking for her blanket.
As her and her mum came into the church, I took a sack from each and carried them into the kitchen, and was richly rewarded with a herald of maple, honey, roast almonds, and pistachios. "This is heavy, I think I need to lighten it a bit…"
Yenia giggled and shook a finger at me. "Don't you dare think about it!"
Guenevieve laughed lightly and with her free hand, she tucked a lock of hair behind her ears. Firelight glinted off more rough diamond-tree stones in her earrings, her pendant necklace, and bracelets on each wrist.
Her mother directed me to put the pastries on a small table in the back of the kitchen across from where Sarina stood with Varilne stuffing some cheesy goodness into mushroom caps. Further down, Mother Searnie dipped her finger into a pot and tasted something red and gooey, and the whole place smelt of warm sour bread. Runya was busy shouting at two younger girls who hadn't chopped the gyeza properly, and the Baroness came in from the back door to the herb garden with a variety of branches in her hands.
I helped Yenia and Guenevieve unpack the pastries, secretly searching for which brown paper package held the maple-cream minicakes, when a hand pressed into my hip and began to usher me off. Talys lilted up and down the musical scale as she spoke. "You don't belong back here!"
"But…"
Sarina looked up at me and giggled as Talys urged me out of the kitchen. "Come on, let's go."
Back in the great hall, the tables had been arranged in a U with two long legs on each end of a section that hosted three big plush chairs. All the chairs had been on the outside, while a stack of musical instruments rested beneath dust covers in the middle.
I sat down beside Davod and Geraln on the stone before the hearth and pulled my hair over one shoulder to toast my back. Davod leaned in close and grinned; the alcohol coming off his breath was pronounced. "How did it go with Dariana earlier?"
Geraln leaned in and looked at me with a sly grin. A lock of dark hair framed each side of his chubby cheeks.
I answered. "It'll be an adventure! She says there's pirates, black magic, and…"
Davod interrupted. "That's not all she said, man!"
Geraln added, "we all used to go see Dariana, and it was never to ask about Carthia."
I lifted my chin to him. "Did you find out anything about this place we're going?"
Geraln huffed and lifted a finger. "Apparently, and this is not a joke, but it's located in the Valley of Misery, on the banks of the River of Unending Torment."
Davod opened his eyes wide at him and furrowed his brow.
A blur of a little girl rushed out from the hallway and plopped herself onto my lap. Teryn gazed at me with her pox-scarred face and asked, "what's Naveris?"
I lifted my arm to support her back. "It's an old pagan tradition…"
Davod slurred. "Really?"
"Sorry. It's an old Falcon tradition where a man who's about to go off to war shares a special night with his lady love. In exchange, she promises to…"
"Is there sex involved?" Teryn asked without the slightest reservation.
Davod chuckled and sipped from his wooden mug. I pulled back from that. "How old are you, now?"
"Twelve."
When did that happen? "Right. What do you know about that?"
"Miss Guenevieve was in the kitchen saying she hopes you're going to ask her but you haven't yet. I think Miss Talys wants you to ask her, too."
Geraln spoke up to that. "I already asked her."
Teryn turned to him matter-of-factly, "but she doesn't like you. I don't think you should go asking a lady who doesn't like you."
"Teryn," Davod chuckled, "I think you're absolutely right." He then turned to face Geraln directly and sipped from his mug without another word.
Geraln sucked his teeth and muttered, as to himself, "It's not that simple."
Teryn then turned her attention back to me, but before she could say anything further Guenevieve stood before us holding a glass of red wine in one hand.
"Teryn," she said, "Father Yewan is looking for you in his study."
The girl looked up at her. "Why is he looking for me there when I'm here?"
Guenevieve crossed her arms and added a sternness to her voice. "I think you know what I mean."
Davod laughed some more. I couldn't help but laugh at that, either. I turned to the little one. "What did you get caught doing this time?"
"Nothing!"
Guenevieve sipped from her glass. "She stole Lady Wynice's clothes from the hot bath."
I sat up; she'd gotten big. I used to bounce her on my knee, and I wasn't even her age. "You'd better go. It'll go much worse for you if you don't."
Teryn huffed, "fine!" and sulked off.
With that, Guenevieve sat beside me with one leg over the other, holding her back straight, resting her hand with the wine goblet over her thigh. "That girl needs to learn some respect!"
I waved that off. "She's a good kid, a bit playful is all."
Her bare legs shimmered in the firelight with naught but a slip of black silk draped over her thighs on my side. "You don't understand—when you're not around, she's an absolute menace."
I pursed my lips and thought about it. "Maybe because I don't treat her like she's an absolute menace."
"Wen?" Sarina stood before us with a smirk across her lips. My heart fluttered—she still hadn't answered me. "Need you to put the butter into ramekins."
At that she stood, smiled wide at me, and floated away into the kitchen.
Sarina sat down in the same spot and crossed one knee over the other. In her right hand she held a flagon of mead, which she rested on one thigh while holding her back straight and fluttered her eyelashes at me. The way she looked at me fighting back a smile, I couldn't help but break out laughing. Then she started laughing, and we kept that up until our eyes met.
"Yes," she said.
My eyes perked up at that. "Yes?"
She smiled wide. "Yes. To everything."