Of Ash & Linen

Fear and sorrow could not keep exhaustion at bay. Ava slept so deeply that not even her own cries pulled her from her nightmares. Death would not separate her guards from their charge. They followed her from one dream to the next, calling to her, telling her to stay with them. The guards encircled her, protecting her, but then the world suddenly shifted. Their faces shattered. Six shadows stood in their places, empty and eternal, devouring the light around them. Closer they drew, one step at a time until the hollow screams of their desolation tore her to shreds.

She woke to find the sack she lay against dampened and tears sliding down her face. Pressing her palms into her eyes, she worked to calm her shuddering breaths.

The tent flapped open and Ava jumped.

It was only Nyra.

“You are a skittish thing, aren’t you?” the woman peered at her.

Ava relaxed slightly and wiped her face with her sleeves. Early morning sunlight shone liberally through the fabric of the tent, revealing the tattered state of her dress. It was covered in dirt and small rips. Self-consciously, she tugged at the fabric, trying to smooth the wrinkles. Her hands were still tied, so it wasn’t very effective.

“I’ve brought you breakfast,” Nyra said. Her voice was oddly comforting. It carried a hint of familiarity, like…Padovana. Oh, how she missed home. Grief hit her full force again. She buried her face in her hands.

Nyra set aside the basket she carried and reached for Ava’s elbow.

“Come now, we don’t have time for that. I’m sure you need to take care of some business. Best move now before the whole camp is awake.” Nyra pulled her up and led her out of the tent.

Ava looked at the ground as Nyra pulled her along. She didn’t want the woman to see her unshed tears. She focused on getting her emotions in order, and by the time the woman drew her to a stop, her eyes were clear.

They were standing near a wide stream at the edge of a small cluster of trees. Turning, Ava surveyed the camp behind them. It was the largest collection of tents she had ever seen. There were dozens. These tents were nothing like the small ones her father’s army used for travel, nor were they like the rough rawhide ones of the Deimos. These were large and elaborate, some of them reaching at least twelve feet in height. They did not serve as temporary dwellings. No, these were homes.

Of all the cultures Ava had studied, only one lived as nomadic tribes of the great grasslands. She was with the Vorosi. As if to confirm it, several horses grazing near the stream caught her eye. Their manes were braided and laced with decorative ribbons of red and yellow, the colors of Voros.

Sharp slapping sounds cut into her musings. Nyra clapped her hands again as Ava turned back toward her.

“Wake up, girl. Unless you want the whole tribe catching you with your skirts up.”

Ava gapped, confused, and took a step back.

Shaking her head, Nyra pointed to the stream. “To relieve yourself and wash your face. Better to do the former latter and the former downstream. There’s are some nice rocks there for you to crouch behind.” She clapped again and Ava jumped. “Stop staring at me, child, and get going!”

Ava rushed over to the streams edge and surveyed the rocks. She eased her legs into the water, lifting her skirts. One careful step after the other, she made her way to the rocks. She made a makeshift knot to keep her skirts out of the water.

Forming a cup with her hands, she splashed her face several times with the cool, fresh water, and then she drank. No water had ever tasted so wonderful, felt so magnificent. Releasing a long sigh, Ava slowly unknotted her mess of a braid and ran her fingers through her hair. She wet her hands and combed her hair over and over again until it was free of tangles. Then she braided it again, not an easy feat with her hands still tied.

Not able to stall any longer, she took hold of the rocks to steady herself and knelt. She did not relax for a second while relieving herself, for she was sure someone was going to wander around the other side of the rocks at any moment. Once finished, she righted herself quickly and let out another breath. She was surprised at how simply washing her face and brushing her hair made her feel so much better. How many luxuries had she taken for granted her whole life? She could definitely add a private bathroom and a comb to the list.

The sound of Nyra’s clapping reached her from the bank of the stream, and she began the trek back to shore. Once there, Nyra nodded at her and led her back to the tent, her cell. Though the Vorosi had already shown her more kindness in the short time they had her than the Deimos had, she must still remember that she was their prisoner.

When she followed Nyra through the tent, she was surprised to find Kallan and Haris there, looming at her. She stopped in her tracks and felt her body tense again with dread, her bright feelings suddenly dying in her chest.

“Sit,” Kallan ordered.

Considering for a moment, Ava stared at him. She decided on defiance.

“I’ll stand,” she said and walked further into the tent to stand across from them, drawing the line clearly between them. If she were to be a prisoner again, she could at least prove to be an oppositional one this time.

“Suit yourself,” Kallan said and then sat on the ground. Nyra walked over to join the men, and she and Haris sat as well. Ava was once again struck by the contrast between his young face and stark white hair.

Kallan released a sigh and lounged back against a sack of grain, looking up at her. They all looked up at her, waiting. Feeling absurdly self-conscious, Ava hmphed and sat as well.

Kallan smiled.

Ava glared.

She watched as the smile slowly slipped from Kallan’s face until he was retuning her glare with a mask of stone. He leaned forward and stared straight into her eyes. Unsettled did nothing to describe how Ava felt under his scrutiny.

“Who are you?” he asked, releasing the words slowly to add emphasis.

“I am no one important,” she said, intentionally matching his stare.

“Liar,” he countered.

“How do you know?” she asked. “I could be anyone, and I assure you I am no one.”

“Do you know what I hate about the noble lords and ladies of Minore? They think they’re so much smarter than everyone else, better than everyone else. They probably think that barbarians like me can’t even read.”

His words slowly edged their way into Ava’s brain as she tried and failed to determine what he was implying. She watched as he reached behind his back and pulled a piece of paper out of his belt. He tossed it at her.

She recognized it immediately. It was her handwriting that wove its way across the paper in even loops and swirls. She picked up the letter, remembering the day she had written it. It was one of the many she had written to Coralli in the days before her capture. In the letter she revealed her hurt feelings toward her father, expressed her contempt at his position of the king’s general, and rambled on about her anger towards him for forcing her to marry to the Shar of Erdene.

They knew everything. Before they even questioned her, they knew everything she had to hide. Her secrets could have been her power, now that power was theirs.

It only took a moment for her mind to see the situation for what it was and come at it from a new angle. She formed a new strategy.

“My father will pay you anything you ask,” she looked at each of them one at a time. “He will be so grateful for my safe return, the king as well. They will pay your weight in gold for that.”

Kallan grinned and Haris laughed. Nyra shook her head.

“What will Minoran gold do for me?” Kallan asked. He lounged back against the sacks again; satisfied that he had won the upper hand so easily.

“Anything you want,” Ava replied, puzzled. “That is the beauty of gold. You can spend it as you please, exchange it for any manner of things.”

“She has a point,” Haris mused as he picked at his teeth with a long blade of grass.

“And what is more important than gold?” Kallan asked her. She didn’t know how to answer.

“Power,” he said after a moment. “I will trade you for power.”

Ava’s hope fell. They would not give him what he wanted. Her father, her uncle, they valued power above all else. If it were gold, the king would trade it readily. It would only serve as a way to flaunt his power and wealth, trading piles of gold to rescue his kidnapped niece. But power, that was far too precious. He would never risk the wound to his pride that he would surely suffer if he relented to their request, whatever it was. His pride was his armor, and it was iron and rigid. It had never failed before, and it would not fail now.

Ava swallowed hard and looked away. Kallan noticed the shift in her demeanor and leaned forward again.

“If they do not agree to the trade, you will die,” he said. “You’re no use to us otherwise.”

“What will you ask of them?” She glanced up at him.

“I will ask much, for they owe us much.”

“Owe you?” She looked at him incredulously. Anger flashed in his eyes, extinguishing all traces of humor.

“For all the things you have stolen. It is time your country repaid mine, and there is much that you owe.” There was no good-natured lilt to his voice, no comical taunting in his tone when he spoke. His anger pushed her further into the depths of confusion and she didn’t like the fear that bloomed in her chest in its wake. The composure that she had clung to so desperately slipped free.

“We owe you nothing! We have no dealings with you. Our countries aren’t even allies. We have no trade,” she yelled at him as she leaned forward, matching his glare.

“Nothing?!? And what of the roads you built on our land? Our forest you destroyed to make paths for them? Or the grain you harvest from our borders? Every year your reach grows further and every year your hands grow greedier.” His voice continued to rise as he spoke. Ava retreated backwards and he advanced on her. “Before long there will be no border at all. The King will claim our lands as his, our people as his, and my people will not suffer subjugation by any king, least of all, yours.”

He crouched, his face only inches from hers. She had shuffled back as far as she could, now caught between the wall of the tent and his wrath. He did not relent. He held her captive in his gaze, waiting for a reply. She could see that this was an anger rooted deeply within him. Still, she could not bring herself to grasp what he was saying. None of it made sense. She had never heard a word from anyone, not her father, her tutors, or anyone in the palace about dealings with Voros. Surely, she would have heard something about these claims if they were true. Though she doubted everything he said, she was afraid to invoke more of his fury.

“I-I don’t,” she could not keep the tremble from her voice. “I don’t’ know. I’ve never heard anything about those things.”

In a flash he was standing. He turned away from her, walking back towards Haris and Nyra, who were both watching solemnly. Neither had moved when Kallan had advanced on her.

When Kallan turned back to face her, he was composed. His voice was even when he spoke.

“And what of the road you traveled through my country to meet your husband?”

“He’s not my husband,” she responded before she could stop herself. Haris chuckled.

“The road,” Kallan said pointedly.

“It’s just a road,” Ava said after a moment. “It’s been there for decades. It’s the shortest route to Erdene. Minore shares no border with Erdene, so the only way there is through Voros or to go north through the— “

“The Elpeci Mountains.” Kallan cut her off. “And do you think my clansmen were consulted when your king plowed his way across our country to build his road? Do you think he paid any tribute for the use of our lands?”

The thought had never occurred to Ava.

“It is the same with the fields along our borders. Grain is taken in wagons when your kings sees fit. He has been taking for years, and for years he has given nothing in return. Your countrymen take what they want when it suites them, and you are going to make it stop. That is what I will trade you for.”

Ava stared up at him. She had no response. The things he said could not be true. Minore was a fair and just country, not the tyrant he described it as.

Kallan watched her for a moment. His eyes traveled over her face and her tattered dress coming to rest on her hands, which were still bound in the linen that he had wrapped them in last night. He blinked and turned away.

“How many guards were with you?” He asked quietly.

The sudden change in topic surprised Ava, so it took her a moment to respond.

“Six,” her voice was noticeably thin. She swallowed to quell the grief that threatened to rise at the mention of her guards.

Kallan looked at Haris.

“We found three on the road along with half a dozen dead Deimos. There was another in the forest a few yards from the carriage and a Minoran female inside.” Ava paled as Haris spoke. They had found the site of the attack, the place where everything had fallen apart.

“Another soldier was in the Deimos camp. All were long dead when we found them,” Haris continued relentlessly. “The last one was lying in a clearing near the camp we raided. The Deimos had taken him down. He wasn’t far from where you grabbed her actually.” Haris nodded in Ava’s direction.

Ava turned away, feeling nausea rise in the back of her throat as Haris listed off her dead guards. She couldn’t keep the images from flashing in her mind. She saw Anthus clutching his neck, blood pouring between his fingers. She saw Moretta’s arms swaying limply, Antony’s body falling to the forest floor, and Otis lying cold and lifeless. She closed her eyes but the images were still there. An arrow slammed into Martis’s shoulder. “I’ll find you!” She heard his voice and covered her ears. “Now go, damn it!”

A hand landed softly on her shoulder and she jumped and twisted away. Nyra was crouched over her, something that could be mistaken for concern in her eyes. Ava realized her breaths were coming too quickly and her heart was pounding. She scooted away from Nyra and pulled her legs tightly to her chest. She forced herself to breath slowly until her heart calmed. Over Nyra’s shoulder, Ava could see Haris and Kallan both standing and watching her, their faces unreadable.

“Were there anymore child?” Nyra asked softly.

“More?” Ava asked having lost track of their conversation.

“Guards,” Nyra said. “Or anyone else who knows what happened to you?”

“You mean anyone else who could tell my father where I am?” Ava replied to Nyra, but she pointed her gaze at Kallan. “No. There’s no one left but me.”

He must have detected the raw honesty and grief in her voice. He accepted her words as truth and gave a slight nod. Then he motioned for Haris to follow him and left the tent. Ava stared at his back until he was out of sight.

Nyra leaned over and retrieved the basket she had carried in earlier that morning.

“Eat now and rest. I’ll be back to take you to the stream again later today.” Nyra’s gaze lingered a moment too long before she turned and exited the tent. Ava brushed it off as curiosity. She couldn’t let herself start believing that any of the Vorosi would show any concern for her. She was their prisoner. She had no value to them except as a token to be traded to better their standing in the world. That was a point that had been made blatantly clear.

Ava sat for a moment letting her grief transform onto anger. The basket caught her eye. She kicked it angrily and watched it fly across the tent. It bounced off of a pile of burlap sacks, spilling its contents all over the ground.