The War of Queens

Chapter 33

Ishmael

 “There they are!” Jamil shouted. “The mountains!”

 Ishmael stepped forwards. The snow flew around them in small, dust-like flakes that twirled around in the air like a thick fog. He could only just make them out, the dark grey shadows that were the mountains.

 Elizabeth stood beside him. “Can you believe it?” she asked. “After all this time.”

 His hand found his. “Yes. I’ve believed in it since the day we set off.”

 She smiled at him, one of her beautiful smiles, so full of happiness. They reminded him of her as a child when they played together. His stomach tied together in a knot. If only this was the end to your journey, Elizabeth.

 He remembered the day that they left the settlement on the Sea of Ice. The old lady who worked as spiritual guide for the people they visited scared Ishmael. From her dark, empty eyes, like holes that sucked in light, to her wrinkled skin, she scared him. He was relieved she had never spoken to him, never approached him, never even look twice at him. Until the day that they left.

 “You are misguided,” she croaked at him. “The sisters, I don’t like, but you. You are good. Misguided, but good.”

 He wanted to tell her that she was wrong, that he had found his path with the help of the one true god, but her eyes were piercing him and he could only mutter, “Thank you.”

 “Elizabeth will be Queen,” she said. “I only hope she is ready. Being Queen is not her victory. It is when she is Queen, the real fight begins.”

 And now they were there, at the pathway to Etheron, and he felt ready to die just thinking of the war that lay ahead. Our journey does not end here, he thought. It does not even end when she wins the throne…

 …but at least there will be less snow on the other side, he thought to himself as he fought to move forward through the knee-deep mass of white. There was still more than a month until the winter solstice, but the days were only a few hours long now, and the snow seemed to fall deeper by the minute.

 “Your Grace!” Jamie called as he passed by Ishmael, walking with long, brisk steps. “Elizabeth, I suggest we take a rest. Osman is falling behind.”

 Elizabeth looked over her shoulder, furrowing worriedly. Her dark hair was flailing in the wind, hitting Ishmael’s face like little whips. “Stop them, then,” she ordered, and Jamie went to work. Then she looked at Ishmael. “How many of Shakan’s warriors are left?”

 “Six men, including Osman,” Ishmael told her.

 She closed her eyes tightly. “I just want to cross those mountains and move south before any more of them fall sick.”

 “So do I,” Ishmael told her, “and we will, soon enough.”

 Jamie returned to Elizabeth’s side, followed by Angelique. Her hair was a complete disarray, and the melting snowflakes had made it damp and curly. “The tents are being raised,” she told them.

 “Good,” Jamie said. “Elizabeth, I’ll have to go closer to the mountains to send a signal to the guards.”

 Elizabeth looked a bit confused. “Guards?”

 “They are stationed on the mountains,” he explained. “Caterina gave me a horn that I should blow in once we were close, and then there would be sent out a patrol to greet us.” He took off his rucksack and pulled out a package wrapped in some sort of short-haired skin. Once he drew the cover aside, a horn was revealed. It curved into a half-circle and had a vague creamy color. He looked around him. “I’ll take Ishmael and Baldur with me. In the meanwhile, you can rest and prepare for tomorrow.”