Kingdoms of Caelum; Autumn of the War Queen

Chapter 7

CIt threatened to rain as she walked down into the throng of Roskilde; grey and miserable clouds hung low, which suited her mood. She stepped over animals roaming freely and down the incline, towards the tip of the first, western Ward. Occasionally, a woman or child would recognise her, give a broad and welcoming smile before looking scornfully at her attire. In her mind she could hear them mocking her, but she didn't mind too much, she was different: a warrior's daughter. But with that thought came thoughts of her father, and a barrage of confused feelings. She swallowed them down and strode more purposefully to her destination. As she passed the last of the thatched houses before she entered Ward Two, she smelt the scent of warm spices and tasty meats cooking on stoves. She hoped she would be found and taken back to the castle before supper had ended. In her mind she imagined her and her father, sat in the Great Hall with Piat, laughing over chicken legs and hot soup about her recent adventures, and how he had changed his mind and had agreed for her and Piat to marry. She glanced down at the wall and gatehouse. She couldn't be certain, but she did not think Piat was there. He would be angry with her at first, but then pleased when he realised why she was doing this, she was sure. Katla walked through the streets until they became sparse and wide, opening up into the big market square, which was empty; from here she saw her destination. The Courtyard of Life, it was called. A large gathering of wells stood in military rows within the terracotta and ivy walls, directly under them sat the river, hundreds of feet below upon the realm. She reached the courtyard and was happy to see it deserted, with all the ropes and buckets wound up, ready for use. Roskilde, like all the Kingdoms, generated its own springs from deep within the core. The springs gave life to them; made the soil rich; provided the essential liquid for drinking, cooking, watering crops. But every so often, the springs of the Kingdom would dry up. So, many hundreds of years ago, the elders devised the Courtyard of Life. Katla sighed and mused over her idea as she entered. It was madness, but she could think of no other way out of the Kingdom without being challenged. Katla walked sheepishly up to one of the wells and peered down. A gust of wind howled from the deep shaft and blew her hair wildly. It was dark down there, a tunnel going right through the heart of the kingdom and out to the other side, where a hundred foot drop waited before the big, steel buckets hit icy water. She had heard numerous horror stories as a child about people falling to their death after leaning too far over. It was terribly risky, but at the same time she needed to show her father she was deadly serious. Katla stood like a condemned man against the well. She tested the rope, then the bucket, and looked down the shaft one last time. "Fine" she vowed. She would do it. Scooping up piles of dusty stones and soil from the corners of the courtyard she threw them into the large bucket, working quickly until it felt heavy. Noises suddenly made her turn and stop.

"Hello?" she called, but no answer came. Katla waited a while before she felt it was safe to continue, but she had to be quick: anyone could turn up here and stop her. Grinding her teeth, she lifted the weight of the clumsily filled bucket and rested it on the edge of the well. Then, looking around once more and taking a nervous breath, she pushed it down the well. The rope almost screamed as it unwound itself furiously with the bucket flying through the blackness. Katla took a step back, afraid the wooden frame of the pulley would give, but it didn't. A few moments later the rope snapped taut and the wooden surround splintered with a loud crack. But it held. Katla felt a dizzy sickness come, but there was no other way, she told herself again. Climbing into the well and shimmying around the edge, she hugged the thick rope firmly, pressing her feet against the shaft wall as hard as she could. This was going to be hard and dangerous.

"By the Six Kings, don't let me die." she whispered.

In the archway of the courtyard, Ragan watched in satisfaction, a dark grin falling upon his face. He had painstakingly watched and followed her every movement since their conversation. He had to be sure that he had created the puppet for his little theatre, and he had. She certainly had guts. He waited for a moment and walked over to the well, knife in hand, ready and willing to cut the rope, but his plan was cut short by voices outside the courtyard. He couldn't be recognised, it would ruin everything, so he left by a different archway. Cursing, he rubbed his chin and the few days' stubble he had acquired. If she survived, well, he would deal with it.

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