Читать книгу War of the Cards - Colleen Oakes, Colleen Oakes - Страница 8

The long march north toward Wonderland Palace continued. The landscape gradually changed from the Darklands’ marshy bogs into sweeping green expanses marked occasionally by gray crags of rocks. The rocks were covered with strange etchings that only the Yurkei seemed to understand.

Today had been one of those rare days where Dinah didn’t have to speak to Wardley at all. Those were the good days, when her heart wasn’t bleeding out and her chest wasn’t constantly aching with longing.

Without meaning to, Dinah had isolated herself from the rest of her council: Sir Gorrann with his kind words and blunt advice was taxing to her nerves, Starey Belft with his grumpy mutterings made her reach for her sword. Her two Yurkei guards stayed a couple of horse lengths away from her at all times, sensing that she wasn’t in the mood for company. The only person that she could occasionally tolerate was Cheshire. He hid nothing from her and didn’t patronize. His emotionless words of war, locations, statistics, and schemes were like warm milk down her throat.

At the front of her line she sat numbly on Morte, feeling like a queen only in that she was wearing her small ruby crown. Disturbing fantasies of revenge and violence were a strange source of relief that she could indulge fully during the long hours of silent marching.

Sometimes, she imagined that Wardley would appear in the door of her tent. With his curly brown hair plastered across his forehead, his large hands would trace her cheeks. His trembling voice would confess that something had changed and that all he had ever needed was her. He would kiss her lips softly before lifting her up to meet him, and then both would be wrapped up in an ecstasy of love and passion. It didn’t happen. Deep inside her, where the core of anger was always churning now, she knew it would never be. Even if they were destructive, these images kept her awake and kept her face still and strong in front of her men. Dinah knew that no matter how she was feeling inside, she couldn’t project anything less than a statuesque strength. If she faltered, her rule would end before it began.

As the sun simmered high in the sky that afternoon, Dinah felt as though they would never be at the palace, that they would just march until they walked into the sea. With the hot sun bearing down on them, it would have been a welcome break.

She heard thundering hooves as Starey Belft rode up behind her. She closed her eyes. Please be good news, she thought. His grave face threw water on that theory.

“Another one?”

Starey nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty. A young one, marching near the back. His name was Kingsley.” The commander of the Spades paused. “He was a good lad. Had a knack for the lyre and a dirty joke.”

Oh gods, a young one. Dinah nodded. “Thank you for telling me.”

Starey placed his horse in front of Morte, who snorted angrily. “That’s the second one in two days. We need a break. We need to burn our men and tend to our bleeding feet.”

Dinah’s eyes narrowed. “I am not unaware of your sufferings. But we must meet Mundoo at the right time or this battle will be lost.”

Starey wheeled around. “If you keep marching at this pace, you won’t have an army to meet him.”

Dinah dismissed him with a wave. “I’ll take it under consideration.”

Starey turned his horse and muttered something under his breath as he moved past her. Anger ignited underneath her skin, and the black fury that was eating her from within moved her muscles without her permission. Dinah saw a flash of red, and suddenly she was swinging her leg up and around Morte’s neck, her hand reaching out to grab ahold of Starey Belft’s reins. With a wild leap, she crossed the gap between their two steeds and found herself seated behind the Spade commander, with one arm wrapped around his waist and the other holding a dagger. The sharp blade pressed into his neck.

“Do you want to say that again?” she whispered. “Say it so everyone can hear.”

Starey looked around with bewilderment. Dinah’s two Yurkei guards halted, their eyes wide with confusion.

Dinah pressed the blade harder. “Say it.”

Starey’s heart was hammering—Dinah could feel it through the back of his body. Her own heart loved the sound the fear made.

“I said …” He cleared his throat. “I said you’re just like your father, building a kingdom by the blood of our backs.”

“That’s what I thought you said.” She leaned forward, her black hair brushing his chin. “I march for you, do you know that? I march for the Spades, and for you, Starey Belft. Someday when I am queen, there will be no mutterings about me or my father.”

Her eyes met Cheshire’s, who was watching the scene with elation. It shook her out of the moment. The red faded from her eyes, and the black fury curled back into its sleeping place inside her. What the hells was she doing? Dinah dropped the dagger with surprise.

“Do not question me again,” she said weakly as she climbed off his horse.

The Spade commander stared at her for a long moment. Their eyes met and Dinah held his gaze until he looked away. Yes, that’s right, she thought. I am your master.

He coughed. “If we could have a funeral for the lads, that’d be nice. That’s all I was saying, Yer Majesty.”

“I think that’s a lovely idea.”

Dinah vaulted back up into the saddle with Morte’s help. After a moment, she raised her eyes to the sky, where a heavy rainstorm was blowing their way.

“We will stop marching for now. The men will have a break. Let’s set up camp for the night.”

“But Dinah, if we are late …” Wardley’s voice shook her inside out.

“I know the consequences,” Dinah snapped.

With a click of her tongue, she plunged away from him, letting Morte take her and her anger far away from those trying to help.

Later that evening, heavy rain from the storm blustered around them. The few Yurkei warriors who they had sent on ahead appeared as swift-moving black dots on the flat horizon. They declared that they were maybe only three days from the palace gates. My gods, three days. Dinah felt the words in the pit of her stomach, the news both invigorating and terrifying.

However, it was very welcome news to the Spades, who were beginning to look less like fearsome warriors and more like wearied travelers. The camps had seemed to be in good spirits, with laughter rising up into the afternoon sky. Dinah smiled when she heard it. Laughter these days was rare and welcome, and the sound of these grizzled men tinkled over the land like a baby’s giggle.

That evening, after the storm, the clouds broke wide open, and a flawless sky shimmered with stars. The bodies of the two fallen Spades were being laid down on a pile of wood. Clothed in a white dress and black cloak, Dinah looked over their bodies. She was surprised but not embarrassed by the tears in her eyes. She reached out a trembling hand and touched every whisker on the men’s faces before cradling their blackened, cracked heels in her hands.

Remember this, she told herself. Remember these men, and the physical cost of your reign. She let a silent tear drip down her face as she bent over them, saying empty prayers to the Wonderland gods. Her hands were placed over their still hearts, hoping to absorb their strength and take on their mission—hoping to make it through the battle they would never see.

Sir Gorrann handed her a spitting torch, and with grim determination Dinah set their bodies aflame. She stood motionless and held back tears, watching the skin of her men pull back as it slowly cooked, veins and muscle turning from living flesh into drifting flakes of ash. A large circle of black-clad Spades stood around her, all reaching forward with one hand, fully present for the last moment with their fallen comrades.

An eerie sound rose up from the other side of the camp, and Dinah clenched her teeth. It was the wails of the Yurkei.

Cheshire stepped forward and bowed his head, his purple cloak flapping behind him as he came to a stop beside her.

“They cry because they feel that we are imprisoning the souls of the Spades here in Wonderland instead of freeing them in the ground. It’s either that or that they believe we are releasing poison ash into the air. Actually, Your Majesty, it’s probably both.”

Dinah raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Ki-ershan had tried to warn her that the funerals would be a problem, but Dinah knew she had no choice; the men must be burned and the Spades must be appeased.

Her eyes lingered over the burning bodies of the men, and she jumped backward when they met the glowing eyes of Iu-Hora, the Yurkei’s doctor and the man they called the Caterpillar. His stare passed through her, seeing every thought, every dark desire. With a wicked smile, he nodded at her before disappearing into the Darklands. Dinah looked away, keeping her eyes on her fallen Spades. The Yurkei continued their loud lament, tossing insults casually across the divide.

“I’m not going to listen to this horseshit!” spat one of the Spades to her right. Dinah could feel the rising tempers of the Spades around her.

Sir Gorrann raised his arms. “Now, if everyone would just calm down. Let’s say farewell to our friends and then I’ll get yeh a drink. More than one.”

Someone started pushing forward, and Dinah found herself shoved toward the towering funeral pyre. Cheshire caught her arm and yanked her backward, saving her from a wide lick of flame. She turned, unnerved by what she saw. The barrier between the camps was lined with Spades and Yurkei facing one another, casting insults and mocking the other side.

As the flames grew higher, a sort of war hysteria was taking over the men. Starey Belft was hollering at the men at the top of his lungs, but his words were ignored. Wardley was galloping Corning up and down the line between the Spades and the Yurkei camp, daring anyone to cross the line. As gallant as he looked, he wasn’t imposing enough to stem the years of hatred that were boiling over. Dinah began violently shoving her way to the center. Sir Gorrann was beside her, his sword out, shoving Spades left and right as they tried to pass through a passionate throng that barely noticed them.

As the Yurkei’s cries of complaint rose into the sky, the Spades became unhinged, urged on by their exhaustion and grief. A few mugs of ale were lazily thrown at the Yurkei, who dodged them calmly. The Spades began spitting on the ground and cursing, blaming the Yurkei for the death of their friends.

Dread rose in Dinah’s heart as she ran forward. She had always known that her army was a simmering pot of decades-old discord and bloodlust. She had foolishly hoped that if she could just get the men to Wonderland proper, their common enemy would unite them.

“Out of the way!” she screamed, shoving aside a Spade who looked at her with disbelief. “Stand down!” She kept yelling it, but her voice was swallowed in the tide.

The Spade next to her drew his mace, and Dinah knew in that moment they would never make it to the line in time. The unrest in the air was so thick that she could almost smell it over the repulsive smell of burned bodies. After that, it all happened so quickly. Axes raised, two Spades burst out of line behind Wardley and Corning and charged toward a circle of chanting warriors. The Yurkei saw them coming and quickly nocked their arrows, aiming their points directly at the Spades’ hearts.

Dinah flung her torch to the ground and sprinted after the two Spades, her hands out in front of her. “Stop! Gods, stop! They aren’t the enemy!” she screamed, but it might as well have been the wind.

They ran forward naively, for Dinah understood what the Spades did not: that the Yurkei would win any confrontation, and when they did, it would be a massacre. Every Spade on this field would die.

The Yurkei released their arrows, which flew impossibly fast toward the Spades’ unprotected hearts. One of the Spades flung an ax into the crowd of the Yurkei. It was all going to end.

As her feet pounded the ground, Dinah heard a strange scraping sound and looked up to see the flame on the funeral pyre being sucked into the sky like a funnel.

Like the breath of an angry god, the Sky Curtain arrived.

A giant crack ricocheted through the sky, so loud that it sent Spade and Yurkei alike to their knees in fear, as if the gods themselves were breaking open the heavens. Dinah fell to the ground, but barely had time to cover her head before there was someone covering her body with his own.

She was five years old when the Sky Curtain had appeared over the Twisted Wood. All of Wonderland Palace had stopped what it was doing to watch. Members of the court and peasants alike had climbed up on their roofs to get a better view of the curtain. The streets had been flooded with people; pickpockets ran rampant. Young Dinah had climbed up on her castle balcony for a better view. She had stepped on the end of her nightgown and would have tumbled to her death if it was not for Harris scooping her up in his arms. After she was duly reprimanded, Harris put her on his wide shoulders so she could better see the curtain fluttering over the mountains. From where Dinah sat, it looked as though a giant had gathered a handful of the stars and yanked downward. Everyone living had only heard of this natural phenomenon in history books. Even as a child, it had taken her breath away. “Harris, what is it?”

“It’s a miracle from the Wonderland gods, my queen,” he said through his sniffled sobs. “Can’t you see?”

Dinah turned her head, her long, braided black hair flopping against her face. “Who is it for? Is it for me? Why does it come? How do I get it? Why is it over the Twisted Wood?”

Harris shrugged. Dinah giggled as her body flopped up and down on his shoulders.

“You have so many impatient questions, Your Majesty! You must wait for the answers to come before rattling off more questions.” He sighed. “Some say that it comes when the weather is just right, when the wind from the Western Slope meets with the wet air from the Darklands and the salty sands of the Todren.”

“But you don’t believe that?”

Harris shook his head. “I believe it’s a gift. A gift for someone who needs it. Just look at it. How could it not be seen as anything but a miracle?” They silently watched it from the palace balcony until it disappeared a few minutes later. Both were left stunned by its massive size and awe-inspiring divinity.

Harris slowly lifted Dinah off his shoulders and put her back down in her feathered bed. But she was too riled up to sit still. She bounced toward the door.

“I’m going to tell Father about the Sky Curtain!”

Harris shook his head. “He’s busy, Princess. Let’s not bother him.”

Dinah let her hand linger on the red glass handle. “He’s not busy. He doesn’t want to see me.”

Harris gathered her under his arm. “Let’s just keep our gift to ourselves, all right?” His eyes wandered down the hallway. “Unfortunately, I have a feeling your father will not see this as a good thing.” Dinah’s eyes filled with tears, but she had listened to her wise guardian.

That following winter was the worst winter that Wonderland had ever seen. Thousands of people froze to death in their houses. Gray corpses littered the street and birds fell from their nests with ice-covered chicks hidden under their wings. Crops had frozen on the vine, and hunger was as widespread as the silent panic. Pink snow covered the palace, burying the doors beneath massive drifts that blew from courtyard to courtyard. Just when it seemed the kingdom could survive no longer, warm summer winds blew down from the Western Slope, thawing the snow and ice, and leaving all of Wonderland to dig themselves out.

Harris had been wrong. The Sky Curtain hadn’t been a gift.

It was a warning.

Dinah pushed against the body on top of her, recognizing his smell immediately—a smell like cream and leaves and horse.

“Wardley, get off me!”

“No.”

She realized in that moment that she would rather die by whatever split the sky than be this close to the man she could never have. It was torture, worse than anything they could ever do to her in the Black Towers. Her voice was muffled as he pushed her head into the dirt. “Get off. It’s an order.”

He stayed still. Finally she pulled the dagger out of her boot and pressed the tip of it gently against his stomach.

“Get off.” She felt his shoulders sag in defeat.

“Dinah …”

She crawled out from underneath him and shakily got to her feet. She couldn’t see the Yurkei anymore. They were cut off from her, divided by the Sky Curtain.

She gasped. It couldn’t be. “No.” She took a step closer.

Stretching down from the stars, the midnight-blue curtain divided the line between Yurkei and Spade. It was perhaps a mile across and made of the night sky. It had swallowed the Yurkei’s arrows and the Spade’s ax. It rippled in the wind, like a thick fabric left in front of an open window. Pulled from the sky and cascading down to earth, it brushed the ground in front of Dinah’s feet. It gave the slightest tremor as Dinah came near it, as if it recognized her. She could see her reflection in its glossy surface, while at the same time staring deep into its unfathomable and ancient depths. Within its rippling body, stars blinked back at her, so close that she could touch them. A physical piece of the sky brushed the earth. It was a void, the sky and the heavens all at once, and it was draped at her feet, preventing her two armies from destroying each other.

Beside her, Cheshire was getting to his feet, his always-confident face unmasked with complete disbelief. Starey Belft’s mouth was hanging open as she approached him.

“It’s not the king!” he yelled out, before turning toward the Spades, who had obviously assumed the same. They dropped their weapons in awe. “It’s”—he paused and lowered his voice to an awed whisper—“it’s something I believed I would never see again.” As Dinah raised her eyes, her sword lowered.

“Sweet gods,” she whispered.

The men stayed where they were, rightly terrified of the phenomenon happening in front of them.

Dinah moved forward, fascinated. Somehow, she knew it had come for her.

She stood in front of it now, equally terrified by its godlike presence and seduced by its beauty. Her eyes filled with tears as she wished that Harris could be here, to see the thing that had so touched his heart years ago.

A small thistle by Dinah’s feet blew in the curtain’s soft wind. Celestial bodies spun and moved inside the shifting cloak, their depths unfathomable and ancient. There was no doubt that all of Wonderland could see it, such was its height. The king, wherever he was, was surely looking out at it. It made Dinah glad. She walked closer, taking in its incredible beauty. All sound around her was sucked out of the air, so that the only thing she heard was the slight snapping of the curtain, like a small flag tossed in a breeze.

Far off, someone was screaming, but it was as if they were underwater. “Dinah! Stop! Don’t get too close to it!”

She turned around and saw Cheshire running toward her, his purple cape flapping around him. He held his hand out, waving for her to step back. Sir Gorrann was behind him, hollering swear words at her in two different languages, looking furious, as always. The Spades all stared up at the curtain, their faces contorted with fear and amazement. She smiled. Silly men.

Her eyes followed the dirt back to Wardley, who was sitting on the ground next to Corning, his face pale as he stared at her.

“Don’t … Dinah.” He shook his head softly, but Dinah had already turned away.

She dropped her sword and stepped up to the curtain. Though she couldn’t explain it, she knew that she had nothing to fear. Reaching out a steady hand, she dipped her fingers into the curtain. They disappeared for a moment and then they were on the other side, weightless. She turned her hand, feeling everything and nothing. A circular constellation of stars whirled in front of her, just beyond her reach. Time seemed to slow. She felt Cheshire’s hand on the back of her cloak, pulling her away from the curtain. She reached up and undid the feather-shaped clasp around her neck. The cloak fell away from her body, and Dinah stepped inside.