The Search for Terror (ONC 2021)

Chapter 9

      Wandering the streets that bordered the Country of Cities, Saqat's third of Amaia's army waited patiently for nightfall. Many of the men spoke with the hiding shop keepers, offered to walk dogs for sheltering families, or tore through the climbing frames in the park. The remaining thirty or so hung around the border, relaxing against the walls with drinks and laughter as though skipping guard duty to celebrate something or other. Weapons leaned casually against walls—no one on the outside would notice the tense hands ready to swipe them if necessary. 

      Those in her own country knew to keep quiet and stay away, of course. Amaia hoped their anticipation would be overlooked by the busy people of Haglaiya—though none seemed to wander this close to the border anyhow. 

      Warning her people of her and her soldiers' departure was the one and only potential area of mistake in her plan, alerting onlookers that something was off. However, sneaking through her country would have left her people in the dark, vulnerable, and she would not leave them like that. She would have them know their queen was taking leave; they would not believe she was hiding herself in the castle yet again, especially as there would be no queen to charge down from those gates in defence if anything actually were to happen. 

      As for how she had delivered her warning, well, it would have been much more dangerous to announce loud and clear, with a voice that could reach over the border, that she was marching her soldiers to battle.  

      Not that there would be much of a battle, if they were quick enough. If the other platoons had made it to their positions on time. Haglaiya was an odd shape which, in this case, worked to Amaia's advantage. The edge furthest from her own country was the longest, curving inward, built of an impassable mountain range. Coming down the right-hand-side, the mountains grew smaller, more curved. That is where Warrior Abadi's men would descend from. The left followed a strong river that snaked inward at the base of the mountains. Warrior Bashar's men would march inland where the water was calmest. She'd tried to give them the time they needed to make it without being spotted, but she couldn't account for the unpredictable weather. She just had to hope-

      "Amaia," Saqat said, snapping her free from her planning mindset at the sound of her name. "Are you okay?"

      She'd assumed he no longer cared. What about their disagreement?

      "I don't like the plan, but that doesn't mean to say I don't like you," the words felt foreign from him, strange and destructive, like a wave pushing a ship to shore but rising too tall. "I have always considered you a friend, and friends plan differently often. My only worry is that you, my friend, are a powerful person." And the wave crashed in. 

      So he thought she was abusing her power. Was that it? "You have no idea-"

      "You're right, I don't. I never will. But neither do you have any idea what it is like to watch one close to you collapse under a pressure you can do nothing to help shoulder."

      "Saqat," Amaia started, though she had no idea what she wanted to say. "This is it," she decided, "After this, that weight is gone." She had no motivation to lift her eyes from the cracks in the floor and he made no effort to capture her gaze. She supposed they were both more comfortable without the eye contact. He'd never said so much at once, never seemed so overwhelmed. "We have to be strong for just a week or two longer."

      Trained into hard lines, his features would give away nothing—she needn't lift her gaze to check—but through his voice she imagined a sad sort of smile as he spoke his next words. Or perhaps that was her own sad smile she was giving to him. "Life doesn't end in two weeks, Amaia. This may be over, but we will still need our strength for the next thing." 

      She took a deep breath and nodded. It felt impossible to feel as her men looked: not necessarily carefree, but stress-free and joyous. 

      "Why so serious?" The laughing boy clapped Saqat on the shoulder, "Loosen up a little, Ayad. Give the girl a break. Another thirteen hours till the grim bit yet." He was grinning, and Saqat let the arm looped over his neck lead him into the noise of stories and smell of fruit juices. 

      'I woke up only three hours ago?' Amaia sighed, pained by anxious boredom. 

      "The crown suits you."

      Unable to stop herself, Amaia jumped at the vaguely recognisable voice, spinning with her heart pounding its anger at being caught off guard out against her chest. Rahim pointed a lazy finger up towards her head and she automatically went to adjust the crown, making him laugh and dragging a blush up her own face that she desperately wanted gone. 

      "I'm sorry if this takes away from yesterday," he offered. At her look of confusion, he clarified, "When you crossed your border without your crown were you not looking to disappear? Become a nobody?"

      "A somebody without the weight of a crown," Amaia answered. He'd guessed it, then. Had he known who she was immediately? Did he only treat her kindly because of her status? 

      He smiled lightly, "I almost didn't recognise you just now. There is no sign of the orphan girl who could not tie her shoes." At her continued silence, he nodded, his head dropping lower with each nod. "I'll leave you to your celebrations now, Amaia." She started, forgetting briefly that she'd given her name when they'd crossed last. 

      "Perhaps I will see you again, Tier of Shoes," Amaia smiled, turning away before he could say anything else that might distract her. 

      When she turned back, he was gone. 

      "If he's a friend, you could have let him stay a while. Twelve and a half hours left yet, Amaia. You need a distraction." Saqat had returned without her hearing him, and she expected nothing less. He hadn't bothered trying to keep her in the castle during the hours before the action—she'd only tear herself apart there instead of here. "Or, if you won't let him be that for you, what about Issar?"

      At that, she met his gaze, "What about Issar?"

      He threw his chin over her shoulder in the direction of the castle. Issar was walking towards them, Rumpelgeist on the end of a lead. She'd never told him her plan, had she? Leaving Saqat with his men, Amaia ran towards her boys. 

      "What's going on, Mai?" Issar asked as she approached. The look on his face... Could she lie to him?

      Glancing back at Saqat just once, Amaia decided he was right. She needed to lose track of time for a while rather than count every minute with an extra grain of stress. "Will you walk with me?"

      "Of course," he agreed, handing her the handle of Rumpelgeist's lead, knowing she'd wish to walk her own dog while she was there. Taking it from him, she slipped her free hand into his.

      Telling Issar that she'd be gone for a few weeks had been difficult, but he'd taken it well. Promised to support her through it all. Promised to treat Rumpelgeist like a king. Promised to take her to every fancy place he could think of when she got back without her prophecy tied to her. Part of her wanted to ask he stop making promises he may not be able to keep, but most of her needed to hear them.

      They filled the rest of her spare hours with conversation ranging from 'do you remember when...?' to what colour each letter of the alphabet was, stopping only for food.

      And then, "Amaia, it's time to assume positions."