Images of Kedrick’s lifeless face pass before my eyes, jolting me awake. I sit up and see the delegates are still asleep. Malir’s huge frame keeps watch by the fans which were the cause of the rhythmic thudding last night. He looks over at me, then glances away.
I untie the now dry mouth covering which is still in place and drop it by my side. For the first time, I realise I have no idea where I am. I try to summon some kind of emotion over this, some shred of self-preservation.
The light starts to shine through a large swath of material covering the mouth of this cave. Malir stands, stopping a bit to clear the roof of the cave, and moves with confident steps between the sleeping delegates to draw the curtains back. Orange light pours into the cave, bouncing off the sharp, uneven walls of the cave. I look out and some small shock finds me.
I’m on Oscala. I stand and hobble towards the entrance.
The Oscala were something every child dreamed of exploring. The floating shelves numbered in the thousands. No one I had ever spoken to knew how many. While some could take half a day to walk around, others were only stepping stone size. The shelves were dotted throughout the divide between Glacium and Osolis. The only means of communication and passage between the two worlds. They were the essence of many stories told by villagers. Aquin had told me many of them as he had once been part of a delegation to Glacium. It was the place I had promised Kedrick I would never go.
I stand on one, lone shelf, in the middle of countless others. There are only shelves and no way of knowing which direction to go. It is tempting to just start drifting as Kedrick had once told me could happen here, to get lost in the barren space. But Malir watches me with steady eyes, perhaps following the direction of my mind.
I take in the burnt glow of Osolis, wondering how I got from the Kaur forest to Oscala without remembering any of it. I imagine it had something to do with the bump on the back of my head. It must have taken several days to travel to the first and then some more time to get to our current position. I don’t know enough about the Oscala to know how long it would take to get to this stage.
“It takes your breath away, doesn’t it?” Malir says. The sound of his voice startles me out of these thoughts. I shrug, not replying.
Soon the others are rising. They haven’t bothered to put on their mouth coverings this morning. The Kaur trees have already been hard at work and have cleared the air in the divide. As we start the day’s trek, I soon begin to wonder how I didn’t die yesterday. I hug the walls closely as we climb the jagged steps cut into the sides of the cliff.
The shelf we are currently on is huge. The steps are narrow and on the other side is a drop into nothingness, if you do not hit the rocky obstacles on the way down. When the leaders of the two worlds first sent out parties to explore the opposing world, a sort of pathway was formed. On some of the bigger shelves, steps had been chipped into the sides to make a more direct route. They had placed ropes on the steep and dangerous shelves to help scale up the sides. I look around me at the floating rocks and wonder how many people died trying to discover this still treacherous pathway.
It takes at least an hour to get off this shelf and we come to a long, thin shelf next. A heavy rope dangles down one side. Malir grabs a length of rope from his pack and signals to me to stand next to him. I look at the rope. It seems only slightly longer than the one in Aquin’s training room. Malir goes to grab me, I push his hand away, irrational anger surging up. I grab the rope and prepare to make my way up. A heavy hand lands on my shoulder.
“Get your hand off of me,” I say, my voice low and dark. The hand slips off.
I start up the rope before I change my mind and decide to push the delegate attached to the offending hand off the shelf. I take pleasure in the physical exercise, in the familiar burn through my arms as I haul my body weight up. I don’t look down, I just pretend I’m with Aquin.
Slightly out of breath, I reach the top and wait for the others. I take satisfaction in the shocked looks directed my way as each delegate climbs over the cliff edge. The yellow head of Rhone comes into sight as he reaches the top, a ghost of a smile lingers on his sharply featured face as he looks at me. I suppose the hand on my shoulder belonged to him. Lucky I did not attempt to throw him over the side. I would have lost.
We move onwards to the next rock, and the next, only stopping to wet the covering and tie them over our mouths again as the smoke from the fourth saturates Oscala. The temperature has cooled slightly during the day’s climb, but the air is still warm, just cooler than the first. A gentle breeze teases the edges of my veil as I walk. The colour here is different from anything I have ever seen. It is a kind of brown. The light is fading as we move away from the orange glow.
We reach the second cave. Adnan starts up the fans once again so the thickening smoke does not choke us in the night. Images of Kedrick drowning in his own blood pushes forward, I scrunch my eyes shut until they pass.
We’re all sitting when a nasally voice breaks the silence. I look up at Blaine.
“Tatuma, we demand to know what ha-” he starts. A bag flies through the air, hitting Blaine in the chest and cutting off his words. He starts to stand, but quickly sits back down when he sees it is Rhone who has thrown the bag.
It takes me a moment to understand what the sneering, greasy man was about to ask. Of course. The delegates would have no idea of what happened in the forest the night Kedrick died. Even Malir and Rhone would only have the barest knowledge of his death. I scrunch my eyes closed and roll away from them to face the cave wall, tuning out the whispered argument which erupts behind me. I’m not ready to talk of it yet. I am exhausted, tired of being in my mind.
When I wake from a nightmare sometime during the night, a single vivid memory stands out. My hand covers the middle of my chest. The arrow had hit Kedrick right here.
He was so much taller than me, it was the level where my head usually rested. The arrow had hit him exactly where my head had been at the time. If he had not thrown me out of the way, I would be dead. My hands cover my mouth, horrified as this discovery leads to an even worse realisation.
I had been the target. It had been my mother. One of her Elite had tried to kill me. This was what Aquin had been warning me about. Guilt and anger streak through my stomach, scraping it raw. His murder was my fault. I had angered my mother and she had intended for me to pay the ultimate price. It had worked regardless, I would rather be dead than have his death on my hands. I deserve to feel this way for what I have done to him. Tears well in my eyes.
As the fire light shines through the cave’s entrance the next morning, I think of Kedrick’s expression before he died. His look of awe and how it had turned to fear as he suffocated. The threatening tears burn away and I feel a surge of white hot fury within me. Anger takes over, some of it directed at Kedrick for leaving me here by myself.
On my side, I feel for the arrow in my pocket where I transferred it yesterday morning. I draw it out with slow movements so I do not draw the attention of the rousing delegates.
I look at the weapon which ended Kedrick’s life. My breath catches and for a moment, I don’t understand what I’m seeing. The wood of the fletching is not Kaur.
My mind struggles to grasp what this arrow is telling me. I slow my breathing.
Kaur wood is the only type of wood on Osolis. There are the fruit trees, but these are never harvested for wood. They are too precious and are strictly accounted for. This fletching is not from a Solati arrow.
My hand holding the shaft end trembles. I look at it and my eyesight becomes tinged with red. I put the arrow back in my pocket and stare a hole into the wall I’m facing. I had assumed my mother had tried to kill me, but this arrow proved otherwise. There was only one other possibility. The only other place where this wood could have come from was Glacium, and all of the Bruma who could have shot the arrow were currently in this cave. There were only two maps. My mother had one, the delegates had the other. No one else could have traversed the Oscala. The killer was in this cave with me.
My vow is furious and heartfelt. I will find out who killed Kedrick and rip the life out of them.
Over the next day the remaining smoke disappears.
“Thank fuck for that!” A delegate yells behind me. I start at his language, but the others just laugh. They have begun talking again today, their grieved silence over Kedrick’s murder broken.
The same man continues speaking, “I’m bloody glad to be out of that smoke.” In truth, I don’t remember all of the delegate’s names. I only dealt with Malir, Rhone and Adnan, though I remember Kedrick mentioning Sanjay a few times. I remembered Blaine, too, because I had disliked the way he constantly complained.
“I’m bloody glad to be off that hell they call a world,” Blaine says. I narrow my eyes at the back of his head, eyeing his slick black hair with disgust. Anger has been my companion since realising one of the delegates is the murderer. I would only need the smallest hint of confirmation before I attack.
“I’m bloody glad to be heading home to Fiona,” Sanjay says.
My eyebrows raise at they continue to comment. Adnan, the quiet unassuming man who likes to make things, shoots a look at me. I shrug at him and one corner of his mouth tilts up. My lips don’t move at all in response. I think they have forgotten how to smile.
The delegates have been acting differently today. Malir’s posture is tense and several of the men are sneaking covert looks at me, the slight turn of their head giving them away. Their whispered fight from last night is unresolved, and clearly, I’m the root of the disagreement.
I nibble on an apple at dinner. I look at it as I chew, remembering Kedrick’s smile when I told him of my apple rebellion. I walk to the edge of the shelf and throw the apple away with all my strength. In an attempt to control my temper I move towards the wall, ignoring wide-eyed looks pointed my way. I sit down, my back on the smoothest part of rock I can find. It is still too jagged, I lean forward, elbows on my knees.
Malir clears his throat. The other delegates look to him in expectation. “Tatuma…” he starts.
Blaine cuts Malir off. “Why were you found over the dead body of our Prince?” About half of the delegates become rigid, whether at his rudeness or in anticipation I do not know. The other half nod in agreement.
I would’ve considered answering Malir’s question, but my recently tamped down fury surges to the fore at Blaine’s insinuation. My fists clench, and thoughts of how good it felt to punch Uncle Cassius flash across my mind. But then the lingering taste of apples stops these thoughts. I remember Kedrick. I must find his killer. If I lose my temper, the murderer may be alerted to my suspicions. If they are, I may never find them. I swallow my rage and shrug, turning my head away, looking further into the dark cave.
Blaine turns to the other delegates with his arms spread wide in a dramatic gesture.
“A shrug is all we get,” he says, copying my shrug. “Our Prince has been killed while on a peace mission, and the Tatuma of Osolis just shrugs.” He turns back to me.
“I told you she wasn’t really grieving. Hell, maybe it was her that killed him.” My head whips towards him. I know I will not be able to control this surge of fury.
Malir saves Blaine’s life with his next words.
“And then she stayed and held his hand?” he says with a shake of his serious face. “Don’t be a fool.”
Blaine glares at Malir, then smooths his expression as he looks back to me. “It is of no matter. She will be passed over to King Jovan in a few weeks anyway.”
It takes a long moment for his comment to penetrate the cloud of anger around me. Then it hits me. My mind had been such a blur, I had been so absorbed in my grief and anger, I had not even given this a thought. I had been a puppet they have been leading around. Of course I had realised we were going to Glacium. I just had not cared enough to ask why. Now I knew it was as a hostage.
I don’t give Blaine the satisfaction of rising to the bait and asking more about my fate. But he must sense my shock or perhaps he cannot pass up the opportunity to boast.
“You can imagine what message the assassination of our Prince sends to Glacium. You are now a Glacium prisoner, whether to be used for leverage or for justice is not for me to decide, though I know which I’d pick,” he says, watching me closely. A few of the delegates murmur their agreement.
His manner reminds me of my mother. There’s no doubt Blaine will be voting for my head on a platter. His answer does not upset me, it just confirms what I already knew. I no longer care. I did not care about Osolis, I did not care about becoming Tatum and I certainly did not care about what Kedrick’s brother would do to me. Without Kedrick it was all pointless.
I shrug again because I know it will annoy Blaine. “Alright then.” I turn away and lie on my side to face another cave wall, feeling savage pleasure in the swear words he looses at my back, his composure cracked. Osolis or Glacium, I will feel empty wherever I am.
That night I lay awake and go through every variable which could have saved Kedrick’s life. What if I had just shown him my face at Aquin’s? What if I had refused to unveil my face in the first place? Every what if adds to my fury. Why had one of the few things which made me happy, been ripped away so cruelly?
The pattern is the same for the next fourteen days. Wake, climb, eat, climb and sleep. Where I used to liken myself to the Kaur tree, I now see more of myself in the Oscala. The air grows darker. The orange glow from my world is gone, I have no way of knowing which way I would turn to go to Glacium or Osolis. Rocks surround us on all sides, I only know up and down. The air has gotten steadily colder. A few mornings ago my breath had formed into a cloud in front of my face. I always looked forward to the physical exercise of the day to exhaust me, but now I also depended on it to keep me warm. This provided a new obstacle to sleeping, though it was already restless due to my constant nightmares. I knew I was keeping the other delegates awake.
I also had a chance to study the delegates. The only anger remaining in me now after two weeks or more on Oscala, was the slow burn of revenge. I had begun obsessing over which delegate shot the arrow. I had spent hours studying each of them. Blaine would have been the obvious choice, but this was what made me disregard him. The real killer would surely not be acting like a killer, though there did not seem to be any suspicion or talk as to a killer being in their midst. It had been dark and the arrow head had been gone, likely they had not spotted the Bruma wood of the arrow.
Blaine’s main supporter, Sole, was my next choice. But on closer inspection, I decided he lacked the necessary backbone. He couldn’t stand up to Blaine’s continual insults and orders, let alone find the guts to kill someone.
I walk between Malir and Rhone at the front of the line and accept a water skin from Adnan.
There were three groups. One I liked, who followed Malir. One led by Blaine, and another group who seem to change their minds constantly between Malir and Blaine. I wondered if this had always been so, or if it was because of Kedrick’s death. Being Prince, he would have been the assumed leader.
None of the delegates carried weapons apart from one knife each. This was a condition of the treaty though, which I remembered from my lessons. However, each man also carried a large pack on their backs. It would not be hard to conceal weapons in this and then leave the murder weapon on Osolis.
I should have asked Kedrick more about the delegates during his stay. I didn’t know their roles on Glacium, and could not guess at what motives they might have. Did Blaine want to war with Osolis? Assassinating me would definitely help to start one. I run my hand over crumbling rock, and duck underneath an overhang.
Kedrick’s death could very well start a war. With his death and my capture, we would already be tittering on the brink of a war. The thought of having to redo all the hard peace work of the previous royals over the last one hundred years is a sobering thought. Briefly, I remember Kedrick’s and my own passion on this subject before shaking the thought away.
I walk across a rope bridge, which sways side to side dangerously, making my stomach lurch. I keep my eyes straight ahead.
War or not, I would not be returning to Osolis until the Bruma who killed Kedrick was destroyed. I owed him this much, and so much more for his sacrifice.