Kaija: Queen of Stone

1

Hills of black awaited, luring me to the distant battle ground. A pall of gloom hung in the air, causing the soil to alter in color. The Dead Lands. Lifeless and desolate. A lost place destroyed by the selfishness of humans when war once waged.

From afar, I could see their swords and spears. Ghosts of the past fought on the grounds, digging their heels into sodden soil as metal clanged against metal. Weapons lifted and blood shed as they cried out for mercy, justice and death.

Some begged to live, but their pleas were unheard. The stench of earth and rust were the only thing left behind by the fallen men.

My Ronian fought a war so these souls could move on. In order for them to know peace within their deaths, he battled our adversary for freedom and gave our people hope in these dour times. Since the conflict in the south raged, our kind needed all the help we could garner. They followed their own leader, ignoring the rest of the world.

Beyond the mountain, the Emperor awaited our joining in the alliance. If it was not to come, I wasn't sure of what would become of our kingdom. He was a ruthless man who did not like to be kept waiting.

My thoughts drowned with the sound of the water trickling from the porcelain fountain. The spouts from the top were feeding into a crystal-blue waterfall, landing in a pool below. A statue of a heroic and loved man stood above the spouts. Henning, my father's brother. Stone-made and stout. His steely sockets fixed on mine.

My father told me stories but I had never met him. Henning was beloved by all. He was to be king rather than my father. He fought for our people and our freedom. Kaija saw Henning as a hero. He challenged the first Udanian. If only he had returned after.

Even though I wanted to continue basking in the sun's kiss as it faded from the earth, I preferred to cower in my thoughts. It was the only place I wished to go to in Ronian's absence.

In my recollections, he and I were holding hands, painted under the moonlight, just like the first night he proclaimed his love to me. A tingle rushed through my body as I thought of his lips against mine. A night I would never forget.

"Tara?" a rugged voice called from behind.

I turned and met Cyril, one of my father's guards. The black leather armor encased his body, fitting snug against his pale flesh like a glove to skin. The only metal were plates on his shoulders and along his torso. His pale arms remained visible through the folds of the linen, but his hands hid under gauntlets. He always bore lovely, vivid green eyes, which I had known all my life. His silver hair glistened in the sun as it cascaded down his back in waves. With the stench in the air, I couldn't smell his usual scent of lavender and berries.

He was my oldest friend other than Ronian, one I valued.

"Yes?"

Cyril wasn't usually the one to fetch me. My father would send a servant if he ever needed me. The fact that he sent Cyril made me believe something was amiss.

His face tightened, appearing grim. I could tell by the look I was right. "Your father has requested your presence immediately."

I drew in a deep breath and moved past him. I couldn't imagine what Father would have wanted. It must have not been important enough to ask himself.

I passed the fountain into the tent. Outside, the odor of rust freed me from its grip. The tent rose to the heights of a fortress and stretched, reaching toward the Dead Lands. Its cloth was a rich red, like our foes' blood.

My father wished to live simply. A castle was no place for a king because a king belonged on the battlegrounds.

I swept through the folds of the flaps and stepped onto dirt. The soles of my bare feet were cold compared to outside. The wooden banister in the center of the grand room stood in the way of my vision, making it difficult to see.