Fortissima Page 8

  “But King Katan viewed us unkindly. He loved to hunt, and saw us as competition. He ordered all bearcats to stay in one place, far from the Bastion. Some of our brethren refused, and were quickly killed. I suspect they are trophies on the Palace wall to this day. It was evident we had no choice. We had to conceal ourselves in this dreadful forest, or be hunted ourselves. As you know, nothing has changed in our kingdom for hundreds of years. We’re still here. We’ll remain here until the long-awaited change occurs.” He stops speaking, and I get the feeling he expects me to know what he’s referring to.

  I say the first thing that comes to my mind. “What change? Are you hoping another King will come along to free everyone? I suppose it’s possible.” I think of the prince—my blood brother—growing up in the Bastion Palace. My mind floods with thoughts and possibilities: maybe one day, when he takes over from my father, I can convince him to be a kind ruler. Like the Woman Kings were before …

  His answer stuns me. “We do. We are hoping it is you.”

  “Ha!” I can’t help but laugh out loud. “You must be mistaken. I could never rule our kingdom. I don’t know the first thing about it. I’ve been raised in—” I stop myself before I give away the name of my beloved home. “I mean, I’ve never set foot in the Bastion.” But then I remember. “Wait a second, you were going to tell me what the Hunters said to you.”

  The big cat nods and tells me what I already know, that the King’s troops are out searching for me. But what else he says is alarming: they are much closer than we previously thought. They’d come through the bearcat woods only two weeks before. By some miracle, they didn’t pass west of the mountains, but to the east, otherwise they would have come right through Baldachin. When I was still there. Cecil says the Hunters are traveling back north along the range. But that is all he knows. And there may be more than one group.

  “But how did you know it was me?” I ask.

  Cecil places a paw gently on my knee. “The Hunters told us they were looking for a girl of sixteen, possibly traveling with companions. And they gave us this.” He hands me a folded piece of paper. I unfold it and read the three single words at the top, written in red: WANTED FOR TREASON. There’s a colored sketch in the center. I gasp: it looks exactly like me. My hands tremble. I clutch the paper tighter.

  “How did they get this image? How could they possibly know what I look like?”

  “That’s not you, m’lady,” he replies. “That’s your mother.”

  I look back at the image, at her icy blue eyes that are my eyes. At her jet-black hair that is my hair. She is proud and beautiful. Regal. I have never seen an image of her before. This must be her at my age. Any remaining doubt that she is my mother is wiped away.

  “Can I keep this?”

  “Of course,” the bearcat says. “We’d better get you back to your companions. Dawn is close.”

  “Yes, we need to keep moving.”

  “Indeed. Climb on my back and I’ll take you there.”

  I do as he says, first folding the paper and tucking it into a pocket. His coat is soft and thick and I wrap my hands in his mane to secure myself.

  “Are you ready?” he asks.

  “I think so.” And we are off, racing out of the cave and through the trees. His paws don’t make a sound as they fly across the forest floor. It’s only a few minutes until I see the light of our fire.

  The bearcat stops about a hundred yards from our camp and I slide down off his back.

  “Thank you very much for your help. You are good creatures,” I tell him.

  Cecil bows his head. “Thank you, m’lady. You will find many willing to help you on your journey. But there will also be many who are loyal to the King, and they will not be so kind. Sometimes, you won’t know which is which. Take great care.”

  “I will,” I say. I bow to him and walk back to our camp, wondering how I am going to explain all this to Tui and Catriona.

  Chapter 7

  Tui’s rushing toward me even before I emerge from the darkness of the trees. He unleashes a torrent of questions, not bothering to keep his voice low.

  “Raven, are you okay? Where have you been? Was it bearcats? Did they hurt you?” He grabs me and hugs me tight. I close my eyes. My pounding heart finally slows, now that I’m secure in the arms of my best friend.

  “I’m fine. I’m okay,” I mumble into his broad chest.

  “I was worried sick,” he says, and grips me tighter still.

  I open my eyes to see Catriona standing behind him.

  “I’m so sorry,” she says. “He just appeared out of nowhere, and then you were gone. What happened?”

  I step away from Tui to answer. “Please don’t worry, there’s nothing you could have done. The bearcats are silent and swift.”

  “How did you get away?” She’s looking me up and down, obviously confused there’s not a scratch on me.

  I shrug. “They brought me back. Let’s make some coffee and I’ll tell you everything.”

  When we each have a hot cup of coffee in our hands, I describe the cave, with the crowd of curious and docile bearcats, and tell the story of how they were imprisoned within this forest at the whim of the most recent Kings. Finally, I share the giant bearcat’s question put to me: was I Raven Araroa? I tell them that I said yes, I was.

  I stop to let that register. Catriona is looking at me quizzically. “What do you mean, you’re Raven Araroa? Are you related to the King?”

  I pull out the piece of paper from my pocket and hand it over. She studies it and her eyes go wide. “This looks like you!”

  I shake my head. “It does, but it’s not me. It’s my mother. But the person they’re looking for … yes, that’s me.” I watch understanding dawn on her face as she reads the words on the page.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Catriona thrusts the paper back into my hands and starts pacing back and forth, hands on her hips.

  She must be furious. I can hardly blame her. It’s becoming clear this journey is far more dangerous than even I believed at the start. Maybe I should have insisted she knew everything from the beginning. Now she’ll probably want to turn around and head back to Baldachin. I wish I could go with her. Home.

  After a minute she stops and looks me in the face, her auburn eyes burning into mine.

  She’s not angry at all. In fact, her face is beaming with excitement. “You are the firstborn child of King and Queen Araroa? A true live Woman King? Is this for real?”

  I shake my head. “No, I’m not. I mean, I’m not a Woman King. But yes, the Queen is my mother. She gave me to … someone, in secret. To raise me in Baldachin where I’d be safe.” Where I’d be alive.

  Catriona claps her hands together. “Damn! This is even more exciting than I thought! Escorting a real live Woman King to safety. Ensuring your freedom. This will change everything. And here I am!”

  I can feel my face start to burn. I wish she’d stop calling me a Woman King. I start to protest again. Catriona interrupts, bows her head toward me. Sincere. “Raven Araroa, I am even more honored you asked me to help you on this journey.”

  I exhale my held breath and nod my head. But despite my embarrassment I’m glad she didn’t turn on me and will continue with us.

  Tui takes the paper from my hands. I can sense his alarm. “How did the bearcats get this?”

  “From the King’s Hunters,” I reply. “They came through here a few weeks ago. They questioned the bearcats, but of course they knew nothing at the time. When we came along, the bearcats knew right away who we were.”

  Catriona is looking up into the treetops, lost in thought. Then she shakes her head and says, “This is not good. These Hunters could be weeks ahead of us, or they could be circling around. We have no way of knowing.”

  We sit in silence, sipping our coffee and picking at what’s left of our stale bread. Then we douse the fire, pack up, and get ready to continue on. It’s the only choice we have.

  We ride through the morning,
although the urgency is gone. A thought occurs to me and I laugh out loud. The sound peals through the trees surrounding us. I’m no longer worried about being noticed.

  “What is it?” Tui asks.

  “I’ve just realized we’re probably safer within the bearcats’ forest than outside it. Maybe we should stay in here,” I reply.

  Tui looks at me sideways, a half smile on his face. “I don’t think so,” he says wanly. Then his face lights up in a huge grin. “Wait—I can see it, actually: Raven, King of the Bearcats.” He chuckles.

  Ha ha.

  It might not be that bad of an idea.

  In the early afternoon we emerge from the forest into Blackpool. My first impression is the town lives up to its name.

  I immediately want to turn right around and head back into the darkness of the trees. Blackpool is even more grim than the dreaded bearcat lands. The sky is overcast, threatening more rain. We ride down the muddy main street, which is lined with refuse and broken buildings. Strips of peeling dark paint hang off each one. Residents are draped on porches and stoops. They watch us with surly eyes as we ride past. Many are clearly drunk, and it’s barely past noon. Most of the women have grubby children clinging to their skirts. Each child looks wide-eyed at me as I pass. There’s a hunger in their eyes, so piercing it’s startling.

  A young girl is sitting on the front steps of a ramshackle house. A little boy, her younger brother perhaps, sits next to her. Like the other children, they are thin and hungry-looking. I ask her where we can find the inn.

  The girl points to a tall brick building farther down the road. I’m about to click my tongue for Pearl to move on when I hesitate. I reach into one of my saddlebags and toss apples to each of the children, which they deftly catch. I rummage around some more and toss a stick of salami to the girl. Her face is incredulous as she realizes what’s in her hands. She looks up at me with a huge smile. I wish I had more to give them.

  A minute later we’re tying the horses to the posts outside the inn. Inside, a large woman with a mass of curly white hair perches at the front desk. Her bosom is practically hanging out of her dress, and I can’t help noticing Tui staring down at it. I give him a good jab in the ribs.

  Once out of his trance he asks if there's a room available for the night.

  “Ah, good on ya boy. I’ve got a room for you. Two beds or three? Or just one big one?” She gives him an exaggerated wink.

  I fold my arms over my chest and step in front of Tui. Clearly he’s unable to continue our transaction. “Separate bunks please, if you have that.”

  “Aye, I do.” She fumbles in her desk drawer and pulls out a key. “Up the stairs, Room 3. There’s a double and a single in there. That should do ya. You can pay up in the morn.”

  “Thank you. Where’s the best place to get a bite to eat? We’ve been on the trail for days.”

  “As it happens, my family runs the best pub in town. Three buildings down, take a left then two more blocks. The big stone building—best pot roast in miles!” She grins. At least three of her front teeth are missing and one is silver.

  I thank her, and she turns her attention back to the newspaper she was reading when we first walked in.

  After the horses are stabled, we carry our packs upstairs to our room. Tui jiggles the key in the lock and the door swings open with a groan. The room definitely isn’t the best place I’ve ever slept. The beds are saggy and the whole place is dusty, with cobwebs in every corner. Stained and torn curtains cover part of the filthy windows, and little black droppings line the walls. But in spite of all this, I’m glad we won’t be sleeping on the ground again tonight.

  We head down the street to the pub, stepping carefully to avoid the mud, filth, and garbage.

  A group of men smoking in an alleyway whoop and whistle as we pass. “Lucky man you!” one calls out.

  Another gives a low whistle. “Mind sharing?”

  Tui stops, and whips around to glare at them. “Mind your own business,” he growls.

  The men laugh drunkenly. I can’t help but hear them making further lewd comments among themselves. Out of the corner of my eye I notice Tui clenching his fists. “Lets keep going, Tui,” I say to him under my breath. “We shouldn’t make a scene. Not here.”

  Tui sighs and unclenches his hands, then reluctantly continues walking.

  Catriona hasn’t said a word this whole time, but her face is beet red.

  We locate the pub and go inside. This must be the best part of Blackpool; maybe the only good part. The stone walls are windowless, the inside lit warmly by candles. A fire roars in a hearth that takes up nearly an entire wall.

  We strip off our jackets at a table near the fire and settle into chairs carved from thick warm wood, worn smooth from years of use. A handful of other patrons are scattered about, but for the most part the pub is empty.

  The pubkeep comes over to take our order. He’s a large man, with a long, curly, white beard. He’s clearly related to the woman at the inn. His eyes twinkle as he takes us in. Friendly. “What can I getcha?”

  “What’s on the menu today? We’re famished,” I tell him.

  He grins. “What we’ve got is ox stew, ox stew, or ox stew. What’ll you have?”

  “I think we’ll have the ox stew,” Tui says, grinning back at him. “And three ginger beers, please. Right?” Catriona and I nod.

  “Sure, three gingers comin’ right up.” He makes his way back to the bar.

  “Well, so far this makes up for the rest of the town’s unpleasantness,” I whisper. “I wonder if he’d mind if we curled up and slept right in front of this fire.”

  “Maybe, if we tip him real good,” Catriona says. “We’re going to be bitten to pieces by bugs in that inn. Probably be better to sleep with the horses.” She mumbles that last part under her breath as the pubkeep arrives with three foaming mugs.

  The ginger beer is perfectly sweet and cold and frothy. Our enormous bowls of stew arrive a few minutes later and the three of us practically inhale every bite.

  When the pubkeep returns to fetch our bowls, he asks if we’re planning on staying in Blackpool long. I struggle to keep my voice neutral, in an attempt to hide the uneasiness I’ve been feeling since we first rode in to Blackpool. It’s as if the town has a dark cloud over it. A feeling of despair, of utter hopelessness.

  “No, sir, we’re only planning on one night,” I say. “We need to stock up on provisions in the morning, then we’ve got to be on our way.”

  “You three are lucky. What I wouldn’t give to ride out of this town. But alas, this has been my family’s pub for generations, so here I stay.”

  “Has Blackpool always been like this? I mean, it seems to be struggling a bit right now.” Immediately I regret asking him this. I’m sure I’ve completely offended him.

  “Only since the bloody bearcats moved in next door,” he grunts. “We used to have a steady stream of travelers coming through. Now it’s only the ones willing to pass through the bearcat lands. Which isn’t many. I’m quite surprised to see you three, to be honest.”

  I try to hide my surprise at his answer. According to Cecil, the bearcats have been next door for hundreds of years.

  “Maybe the next King will evict them,” he says, his voice low. He gives me a long, slow wink as he stacks our empty bowls, indicating he's not a fan of King Araroa, either. “Refill?” he asks in what seems an unnecessarily loud voice. The three of us nod. I could probably eat four bowls of the rich stew.

  He returns a minute later with our refilled bowls. We eat more slowly this time.

  The pub door opens and the three thugs who teased Tui earlier walk through it.

  “Oh, fantastic,” Tui mutters under his breath. He puts his head down, hoping they won’t notice him. But we’re pretty conspicuous, being the only travelers in town.

  They stumble up to the bar, bumping into tables and chairs, then argue with the pubkeep, who keeps shaking his head. Eventually he puts three small glasses down in fron
t of them, and fills each halfway with amber liquid. I can smell it all the way from our table. Whisky. Highly illegal. For years, only ale and cider have been allowed in Nadir. There are harsh penalties for even possessing distilled spirits. Apparently, the Blackpool pub doesn’t care.

  They down their glasses in no time and the arguing starts up again.

  “No more, I say! It’s not even afternoon and the three of you are drunk as crows in a cherry tree in springtime. If ya don’t behave yourselves, I’ll throw you out.”

  The men protest, slurring and unintelligible. Eventually they give up and swagger around, looking for a place to sit.

  The short one spots us in the corner. “Oh, hey! Lookie over there! It’s our friend, the lucky bloke.” They seat themselves at the table next to ours. This is not going to end well.

  The man with the huge potbelly and long greasy hair turns his chair so he’s facing us. “Where are you three heading? ’Tis not every day we get such lovely visitors in Blackpool.” His alcoholic breath makes my eyes water.

  “We’re just grabbing a meal,” I reply. “If you could kindly leave us to it.”

  “In other words, beat it,” Catriona adds.

  “I’d sure like ta.” The short man gives Catriona a lewd wink.

  The three of them nearly keel over with drunken laughter. I glance at Tui. He’s staring at his plate. I sense his struggle to remain calm.

  But when Potbelly reaches over to put his arm around me and starts to say something in my ear, Tui loses it. He jumps up and grabs Potbelly by the jacket collar, picks him up, and hurls him to the floor. “You heard the girl. My friend is trying to eat! Get lost!”

  The largest and quietest of the three starts to rush toward Tui, but the pubkeep is already there, pinning the man’s arms behind his back. He drags the drunk over to the pub door, pushes it open with his foot, and throws him out.