Chapter 50 #2
All jubilance evaporated in an instant.
“How do you know this?” snapped Oleg, glowering from the front of the crowd.
“Above all else,” said Saga carefully, “Urkans are thirsty for Bear God’s blessing. This loss will disgrace Ivar. He will seek to regain his honor.” She cleared her throat before continuing. “They are not yet truly vanquished.”
A murmur rose up from the crowd, and Saga felt the stares of the clansmother and the high prince boring into her.
“What we faced is small part of Ivar’s power. You see, he sailed without his father’s fleet. Once King Harald arrives in íseldur, Ivar will have hundreds of ships—thousands of warriors—”
Saga’s breaths shallowed as a raven cried far overhead, but as her thumb stroked the feather in her pocket, it eased just a touch.
“Now you have seen Urkans with your own eyes! You have seen their war contraptions and battle frenzy. You have seen destruction of Kovograd River and land gates! Now you know what we fight against.”
The horsewomen and Zagadkians held identical expressions of astonishment as Saga’s unnerving words settled.
“But!” cried out Saga. “You also have seen proof Urkans are not invincible! Your victory proves they can be vanquished!”
“What is it you’re dancing around, queen of íseldur?” asked the high prince with cutting calm.
Saga did not blame him for his wary expression.
“I ask,” said Saga, her gaze drifting to the clansmother, then back to the high prince, “for you to come to íseldur. Join with my people. Together, we have chance against Urkans. Together, we can eradicate this evil.”
The high prince’s face grew bone white, while the clansmother’s turned a violent shade of red. The pair exchanged a look that told Saga that, for once, they were in complete alignment.
The clansmother’s gaze hardened as she turned back to Saga. “We cannot simply cross an ocean!” she protested. “Our horses cannot fly such a distance. Are you suggesting they travel by boat?”
In truth, Saga hadn’t thought quite so far ahead, but she did not let the clansmother know it. “I am eager to discuss such matters with those who know best,” she said carefully.
“We have just survived the impossible!” interjected the high prince. “We are surrounded by devastation. I simply cannot afford to send valuable resources across the ocean—”
“Perhaps,” said Kassandr, speaking for the first time, “we cannot afford not to, Father. You saw those berserkers. You see what they’ve done to the might of Zagadka.” He gestured to the ruins all around them. “How do you think we will fare upon their return?”
Khiva stepped forward, encouraged, apparently, by Kassandr’s boldness. “Thus far, the tamer of horses has not spoken an untruth. She knows things we cannot—she knows this enemy better than all else!”
“You would go to this isle of ice and fire?” asked the clansmother, aghast. “You would lead your horsemaidens into danger on unknown soil?”
“I would die to keep a collar from the necks of our children, Mother. To keep our horses free and protect peace on the steppe.” Khiva nodded, resolute. “Everything I have seen in this city tells me the tamer of horses is a truthful and wise leader—a woman worth following.”
Khiva approached Saga, dozens of horsemaidens following.
“I have discussed with my women, and we have agreed to follow you.” Saga’s heart hammered as Khiva and the horsemaidens dropped to one knee.
“We pledge to you our swords and horses. That is close to one hundred horsemaidens who will travel across the oceans with you, tamer of horses. We would see these bear-warriors vanquished before their greed consumes our world.”
Saga’s rapidly beating heart now swelled with gratitude.
“I cannot abandon my clans in the middle of winter,” the clansmother protested.
“But perhaps I can put them to use. With access to the ore mines in the east”—she glanced at the high prince briefly—“we could prepare armor and weapons in our mountain forges. We can ready ourselves should the time come—” The clansmother’s voice trailed off.
It was not a promise to join the war, but it was a door opened. A possibility. Saga jumped down from the boulder to clasp the clansmother’s hands before bowing her head.
“I thank you, clansmother.” She turned to Khiva and, after a moment of hesitation, wrapped the startled horsemaiden in a fierce hug. “And I thank you, Khiva, for your trust. I do not take these words lightly.”
Saga stepped back, willing the tears burning behind her eyes to stay put.
“I need more,” said the high prince, rubbing his temples. “I need details—a plan. What do you propose?”
Saga turned to him. “King Ivar will take this loss badly. I suggest that you send with me warriors to íseldur; that we strike before Ivar recovers.”
“Our city has burned, our fortress destroyed!” exclaimed Oleg. “Father, we need those men—”
To Saga’s great surprise, the high prince raised a hand, and his son fell silent. “Continue.”
Saga swallowed. “North.” The last she’d heard from her, Eisa was in the north, and Saga could not shake Ana’s comment that the rebel chieftains opposing Ivar hailed from the same region.
It seemed a promising place to start. “I propose we sail to north of íseldur. Find Eisa and join with her. Perhaps alone we do not have swords enough to fight Ivar and his father. But together with those in íseldur…he would not expect it.”
Oleg’s face had reached crimson now. “Father, surely you are not considering—”
Another wave of the high prince’s hand, before he stepped onto the boulder and stared out at his people.
“Saga Volsik,” he said in a loud, carrying voice, “might have brought the Urkans to our doorstep sooner than expected. But she has also saved us. Without the timely help of the clans beyond the river, Kovograd would have fallen. A Usurper would sit on the throne, and we would be dead or enslaved. For that, she has earned a boon.”
Hope pumped through Saga’s veins as the high prince glanced from Kassandr to her. The corners of his lips pulled up. “We will lend you our swords,” said the high prince of Zagadka. “But I have some conditions.”
Saga licked her lips. “What are they?”
“One,” said the high prince, lifting a finger, “you will swear to this alliance before the altars of our four gods.”
Saga was already nodding along.
“Second.” The high prince lifted a second finger. “You will join your bloodline with ours through marriage.”
Saga’s stomach hollowed out as she stared at the high prince, dumbfounded.
“Father—” growled Kassandr, but his father cut him off.
“You may choose among our eligible nobles. My son Oleg—”
“Have you knocked your head, old man?” sputtered Oleg.
“—is of marrying age,” said the high prince, lips pressed together as though this amused him. “And Elder Fedar is in need of a second wife.”
Despite herself, Saga’s gaze followed the high prince’s. Elder Fedar stroked his long gray mustache pensively.
“Of course, there is always my heir.” The high prince sighed. Saga blinked furiously as her heart hacked against her rib cage.
“Father,” interjected Kassandr, before launching into a flurry of Zagadkian too rapid for her to follow.
Saga’s mind raced, her pulse too quick to sustain.
A month ago, the thought of marrying Kassandr had been reprehensible.
But everything had changed. And now that she’d witnessed the Urkans’ wrath firsthand, other things had shifted in her mind.
There was so much at stake—the safety of Zagadka, and that of her own realm. This was bigger than her.
She drew a deep breath. Faced the high prince.
“I will do it,” she said, with forced nonchalance. Inside, her heart twisted and flipped and rolled in loops. “My choice is Kassandr.”
Meeting Kassandr’s eye in this moment felt a lot like granting him a victory, and right now, she could not bear to do it.
Instead, Saga turned on her foot and strode from the courtyard.
After entering the fortress, she sagged against the wall, drawing deep breaths.
She waited for the walls to close in on her.
Waited for the voices to shout in her mind. Trapped, they’d say. No exit.
But as the minutes slid by, her mind was strangely quiet.