Chapter Two

Fern took a deep breath as she walked into the ice-cold lake. She knew people were watching her as though she were a mad woman, and perhaps she was. The freezing water always took her breath away and she wondered if that is how drowning felt. Despite every one of her senses telling her to retreat, she kept a steady pace until the water reached her neck, and then dove under the surface. Fern had always loved the water. She had grown up in the village of Royan, Karranya’s southern-most village and the largest of its islands. For two seasons it was completely ice-locked - the distance too risky to travel even with strong wolves and plentiful supplies. The other two seasons the water was crystal clear, but so cold most would never brave it, but not Fern and her father.

“The cold makes you strong.” Her father used to say as he tossed her into the water, before jumping in himself.

 She had lived her whole life in Royan and was devastated when her father moved them to Jashe to be closer to the capital. A selfish teenager, she had sobbed the entire two-week journey, cursing her father and telling him she would run away and return to Royan as soon as she could. When they finally arrived and she was greeted by their new neighbour’s children, Aren and Sereen, with candied fruits and freshly baked bread she began to settle down. Within weeks she seemed just as happy to bathe in Jashe’s lake, despite it only ever being cold enough in winter. Her father delighted in taking bets from the villagers on how long he could stay in the icy water. He never lost, not once.

The surface gave no hint of her presence. Underneath she was curled into a ball, willing herself to stay as long as possible. To block out the noise of the outside world. To hide. Here, in this Royan she had created, she was a child again. Safe. Loved. Oblivious.

“Fern. Fern, I need your help.”

Fern sprang from the water, sending the Sweets scattering. Her eyes darted around frantically, trying to see who was there. Aside from the few people on the shore there was no one. But she had heard it, clear as day.

“Oh, there you are!” She heard Erna yell from the bank. “I was beginning to worry!”

Fern shook her head, she must be over-tired, she hadn’t returned to her tent after burying Milly. She couldn’t bring herself to leave Todd until he was sleeping softly.

“Come back now, I know you say you won’t but I always worry you’ll catch a chill!” Erna barked.

Fern smiled and began to walk back to the shore. It was nice having someone to look out for you. Both of Erna’s children had been taken from her when she was sent to the camp. She had been caught aiding the enemy and was arrested for war crimes. Her children were too young to be sent to the camp with her, so were sent to an orphanage.

“Yes, mother.” Fern said as she walked into the towel that Erna was holding open for her.

“If I was your mother, I’d wring your neck for insisting on swimming in that infernal lake so close to winter.”

Fern knew better than to argue.

A small fire crackled between then as they spoke.

“Did you hear about Milly?” Fern asked.

“I did.” Erna poked the embers with a stick and pursed her lips. “It won’t be long now before Todd follows. He didn’t even bother to come to breakfast this morning and someone as frail as him won’t last long not eating.”

“Maybe I could give him Avanne’s bread for a few days?”

“No.” Erna looked sternly at Fern “Avanne needs it more, she’s young and maybe one day she could have a life, Todd is old and at the end of his. Besides, do you really think he’d take it?”

“No.”

“You need to keep that girl’s spirits up.”

“She’s stronger than you think.” Fern said, now poking the ashes with her own stick.

“I don’t doubt it, but Todd is an old man and has lived his life.” Erna started prodding her stick at Fern’s

“That doesn’t mean his life doesn’t have worth.” Fern said.

“Of course not, in fact it has more worth because he has lived longer, and that is the point. You and Avanne still have a chance at life, Todd and me…there is no time left for us.”

“I’m sorry.” Fern said as she tossed away her stick. “It isn’t fair.”

“Nothing in life is fair. Nothing.”

“It should be.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Erna threw her own stick away and looked to Fern. “Life can’t be fair. Do you see nature being fair? Yesterday when we saw that baby Sweet get picked off by the mountain lion, was that fair? Of course not. We try so hard to pull things into our favour, but it’s a force we can never really control. Don’t try and fool yourself into thinking life can be fair. It can’t.”

“I’m sorry.” Fern apologised like a scolded child.

“Don’t be sorry, just don’t be stupid. Now get up and help and old woman off the ground.”

Fern was sitting on her cot when Avanne collapsed into their tent. She flopped onto her own cot and let out a long groan.

“How can one person need so much tulle? These dresses are the most ridiculous things I’ve ever seen.” Avanne grumbled.

Fern stood and nudged herself next to Avanne’s now floppy body.

“Better shift today then?”

The afternoon before Avanne had come back red eyed and puffy and absolutely howling. One of the older seamstresses had purposely spilled oil on the dress Avanne was working on for Lady Ilydia, Captain Beltan’s eldest daughter. She had to stay back three hours to clean it. That afternoon Fern hunted down the trouble-maker’s tent and invited herself in. Needless to stay, she now had promises that Avanne would be left alone.

Avanne sat up and lent against Fern’s shoulder. “Yes, much better. I suppose I have you to thank for that?”

“Let’s just say I told her if she bothered you again, she would be struggling to use scissors without her thumbs.” Fern would never actually harm anyone, but she was well known in the camp as a swordsmith, which was enough to put people off.

“Thank you.”

“Let’s go get some dinner before it gets too crowded.”

Fern and Avanne’s tent was situated in the south camp which was close to the mess hall. Unfortunately, the infirmary stood between the two so they often took the long way through the east camp. The infirmary was always over-flowing with sick prisoners and it was best to avoid it at all costs. It was even run by prisoners as none of Lestian’s citizens were expected to work there.

As they approached the east camp a young woman walked past them. Her wet clothes and red face meant she had probably been in the laundries. Fern swallowed a lump in her throat when she noticed the two guards following slightly behind her. Fern and Avanne were considered to be off-limits prisoners, as their skills were not easy to come by, and as such they were allowed to live in the south camp. It also meant that they were off-limits to the guards. Other prisoners were not so lucky. Rape was rampant in the camps. In her early years Fern had received several beatings for trying to intervene. Later, when Avanne had been placed with her she had been given a stern warning that her interference would result in a beating for them both. It had put an end to Fern trying to fight the inevitable.  

“It’s not so much fun now that she doesn’t even put up a fight.” One of the guards said as they pushed past Fern and Avanne.

“Tomorrow night we’ll find another, this one’s getting a bit worn out anyway.”

They both laughed as one looked back.

“Shame those two are restricted, that young one looks nice and new.”

Fern tensed and immediately slowed so she could walk behind Avanne.

“Don’t even bother looking, besides, that one, she’ll probably lop it off with one of her swords.” The other guard said as they rounded the corner.

“Just keep walking, eyes forward.” Fern whispered.

While they were off-limits to rape, if they were in anyway disrespectful, they would most certainly receive a beating.

Once they were out of earshot Avanne looked over her shoulder to make sure they were gone.

“Would you?” she asked.

“Would I what?” Fern said as she guided them towards the mess hall.

“Would you…lop…you know…’it’ off?”

“No. I’d slit their throat from ear to ear.”

Jous waved from a table in the back when he saw Fern and Avanne enter. They lined up and received their dinner. Tressa, the younger cook who manned the evening meal was not so understanding of Avanne’s condition and there was never any extra bread. Ever since Fern had asked her about it, she had made a point of never filling Fern’s bowl. Thankfully she still filled Avanne’s.

Unsurprisingly Jous was nearly finished when they sat down. Bits of food and spray scattered the table.

“You always did have such fine manners.” Fern flicked away his mess as she began to eat.

“The faster you eat it, the less you taste it.” He picked something out of his teeth and flicked it on the floor. “How was the rest of your morning. Heard Milly from your camp died. Sorry, I know you got on well with her.”

“What?” Avanne said, interrupting. “You didn’t tell me.”

“This morning, she must have died in the night.”

“Everyone heard about what you did.” Jous smiled “A lot wouldn’t have.”

“I wasn’t going to let them take her to the field, it was her greatest fear. She’d always told me that, and it was the least I could do after years of avoiding talking to her.”

“Not sure why it matters, being in a field or being in the ground.” Jous said, but it was more of a question.

“It’s what she believed. She was a Cirat, they don’t believe in invading others in death. The journey to the afterlife is a solitary one. She said if there were too many souls trying to get through the door into the afterlife at once, some would be left behind.”

Jous scoffed

“It’s true.” Avanne spoke so softly, it took Fern a few seconds to register what she had said.

Jous and Fern locked eyes, surprised by what Avanne had said.

“Sorry, Avanne, I didn’t mean to offend you.” He said sheepishly.

“You didn’t. But it is true. My family are Cirat - well, they were.” She said correcting herself. 

Fern had guessed Avanne was Cirat, but only through observing her behaviour, Avanne has never actually told her.

“The trip to the afterlife is one that should be done in solitude so you may reflect on your physical life before entering your spiritual life.” Avanne cleared her throat. “That’s what the scripture says.”

“Well, it’s good that we made sure Milly was buried out by the lake, nice and far away so she’ll have no trouble.”

Avanne smiled and they all went back to their dinner, eating in an awkward yet agree-upon silence.

After dinner Jous and Fern set off for the forge and Avanne went back to the south camp. Thankfully there were lots of people out and heading to shifts, so Avanne’s path was fairly safe. Still, she was always under strict instructions to keep her head down, walk fast and not stop until she was inside the tent.

“Well that was awkward, you could have told me.” Jous said, grumbling.

“Told you what?”

“That Avanne was Cirat! I felt like such a donkey! She barely talks to me as it is, and now I’ve gone and mocked her whole religion.”

Fern laughed. “She’s just shy, that’s why she doesn’t talk to you, not because she doesn’t like you.”

“Still, a bit of warning would have been nice.” He huffed.

“I didn’t know.” Fern said as she dusted some bread crumbs off her trousers.

“How? You have lived with her for nearly six years, you talk about everything.”

“I had my suspicions, but she’d never actually told me. Sometimes when she thinks I’m asleep she recites what I thought was scripture, I guess it’s Cirat’s Law.”

“Cirat’s Law?”

“It’s…it’s just like their…how to live, what to do, be good, be resourceful, you know like-.” Fern stopped when she saw the guard standing at the forge. It wasn’t Tremmel.

“Did you know you were getting a new guard?” Jous asked, concerned.

“No.”

A guard replacement was always a volatile time. It was an unknown, and a dangerous one. Tremmel had been Fern’s guard for over 4 years and Fern had managed to build up some-what of a rapport with him.

“Maybe Tremmel is just sick?” Jous said hopefully.

“Maybe, but he usually just comes in sick and nods off in his chair. He likes getting paid.”

“Paid, imagine that.”

The guard was staring directly at Fern, his eyes narrowed.

“I better get going.” Jous put a hand on Fern’s shoulder. “Good luck.” 

The guard’s eyes followed Fern all the way into the forge. As she was about to sit, he strode up to her holding a small pouch.

“These are the jewels for Prince Lesitan’s sword. He dropped the pouch into her hand and walked back to his post.

“Is guard Tremmel sick?” Fern asked, hopeful this guard was only here for one night to deliver the jewels.

“He’s been reassigned. I’m his replacement.”

“It’s nice to meet you, guard…”

“Kissik.”

“Kissik. It’s nice to meet you guard Kissik.” She said, ensuring to get the pronunciation of his name correct.

“You do your job, I’ll do mine. Now stop talking and get on with it.”

Fern was relieved Kissik seemed to be happy with just being a guard, not a tormentor. Still, she would need to be on her best behaviour for a while. No talking back, no rolled eyes. She unlaced the ornate velvet pouch and tipped the contents into her hands. She gasped. In her hand was a sapphire the size of a grape and several smaller, blood-red rubies. Lestian was known for his opulence, but these gemstones were the most exquisite she had ever seen. They must have been worth several thousand gold, more money than most could even imagine.

“Let’s have a look.”

Fern jumped, too in awe of the stones to notice Kissik had come up behind her. He reached into her hands and grabbed the sapphire. Without thinking, Fern snatched it back off him.

“Careful! If you drop them it’s my neck on the line!”

She froze, unable to believe what she had just done. Kissik looked her square in the eyes and kept contact for several seconds. Fern waited for the inevitable beating. He blinked. Once. Twice.

“You should think twice before you do something like that again, Fern.”

She took a deep breath, nodded and retreated to her working area.

Fern desperately tried to focus on setting the jewels. If she slipped and smashed the stone her long-standing as an off-limits prisoner could be revoked. And she still needed to do the engraving, which required even more concentration. Yet she could not stop thinking about Kissik. He had called her by her name. Guards never called prisoners by their names. Most guards didn’t even know prisoners’ names. It had unnerved her. He must have known she was off-limits, the red fabric circle stitched to her uniform made sure of that. Regardless, if he’d intended to rape her it wasn’t likely he would bother using her name. Every now and again she caught him watching her and even when she didn’t catch him, she could feel him. She reasoned it was most likely because he had never seen a forge before. It was an odd thing for an outsider. The noise, the heat, the smoke - it could be overwhelming at first. Setting stones was a skill Fern had learned from her father, and was not a traditional bow in the swordsmith’s quiver.

Briad, her father, had taught himself how to make simple jewellery to woo her mother. As it turned out however, her mother was much more interested in weapons than jewellery and as a wedding gift he made her a beautiful ceremonial dagger with a carved rosewood handle and golden accents. Fern’s mother had died when she was just eight months old. She had been struck down with water lung after helping a sick beggar woman and her baby son.

On Fern’s sixteenth birthday her father gifted her the dagger. Three days later the village was raided. Seven days after that Briad was publicly hanged by Prince Lestian for being a traitor and Fern was brought to Demoth’s prison camp. She had been forced to watch the hanging. Braid had shouted at her to look to the horizon, she did as she was told and watched the sunrise as her father took his final breath.

Despite the pain in her back and the throbbing in her head, Fern still needed to do the engraving. As well as Lestian’s sword, which always got preference, she still needed to make swords for his two sons, Astel and Reiad, despite them only being three and seven. The Winter Festival was only nine days away and everything needed to be finished and finished well. Polishing up the stones she had a look at her work. Even with the distraction of Kissik, she was satisfied with the finish. She reached inside the pouch and felt a small scroll of parchment. She pulled it out and unrolled it.

Fern, it has been ten winters since your father was hanged for treason, therefore I feel the engraving on my ceremonial sword this year should reflect how far Karranya has come now that she is united under one ruler.

“Do not let the traitors divide you - join as one and conquer them first.”

Fern memorised the text before scrunching up the scroll and throwing it in the forge. Lestian had offered her freedom if she renounced her father, she refused and now he taunted her every year with his message. While she hadn’t learned to ignore it, she had learned to bury it deep down inside. Anger and hate were not emotions that kept you alive.

Despite only using them once a year, Fern always kept her gravers sharp. Using a pointed piece of charcoal, she traced the text onto the blade, making an outline she could follow. Engraving was intricate work and required infinite amounts of concentration. Concentration she was not getting while Kissik insistently watched her. While guards were there to ensure prisoners worked, it was unusual from them to be so diligent. Kissik seemed unable to ignore Fern’s presence. Almost as though he was annoyed by her being there. It went on like this for the entire two hours she spent engraving and by the end, Fern was completely exhausted.

Fern took a rag and cleaned the entrie sword before handing it to Kissik to inspect. It would of course be inspected by several others before it reached Prince Lestian, but Kissik was first on the list.

“Stick it in the box.” Kissik said after he’d looked over the blade.  

A few days earlier a walnut box had been delivered from the carpenters. Lined with blue velvet and decorated with gold inlay, it was absolutely beautiful. Fern often wondered if the swords went into these beautiful boxes do die, as Lestian had never been in a battle in his entire life.

Just at that moment the shift bell rang through the camp.

“Well that was good timing, get out of here.” When Fern didn’t move he pointed towards the forge entrance. “Go on, I have other duties to attend to.”

She nodded and made for the door, not wanting to annoy him further. Looking so closely at the blade while engraving had given Fern a pounding headache, so she opted to miss breakfast. Thankfully, Erna would put something aside for her. With her mind solely on her cot, she snaked through the camp. If she didn’t have a good sleep she would not be able to function much longer. Making weapons was hard, tiring work and she could not afford to get sick heading into winter. So eager to get back to her tent Fern braved the back alley by the guards’ camp and not realising it had been recently paved in cobblestones tripped. Her head made a crack as she hit the ground and just as she lost consciousness, she heard a soft voice calling out to her.

“Fern, please Fern. You need to help me. You need to help us.”