Fun and Games
Bri had never known such a bitter winter. The numbing cold spread from the soles of her feet to the very tips of her fingers. The world seemed devoid of colour, and the faint white glow of the sun had retreated into a dense expanse of cloud. Snowfall from the previous night lay soft and thick on the hillside ahead.
Something hard and cold collided with Bri’s cheek.
‘Irys!’
Squealing with laughter, her sister threw yet another. Upon impact, a flurry of snow scattered into the air, spraying in all directions.
‘Come on, let’s go on an adventure!’ Irys shouted.
Chuckling at her sister’s enthusiasm, Bri attempted to brush off her snow-clad shoulders. ‘An adventure? Where to? To Natur? Or… Embre?’ She pretended to think.
‘Up the hill! Last one there’s a spotted toad!’
Bri easily overtook her younger sister, kicking up snow as she raced past.
‘Too slow!’ Bri puffed, gasping for breath as she waited for her sister to join her at the summit.
Though the hill could not possibly compare to the Krystal Mountains, the sight filled her with joy. Rolling fields of wheat and turnip had been enrobed with a heavy blanket of white. Even the top of the stone wall lining them had not been spared. They stretched Northwards for miles and miles, ending at the edges of the forest. To the East, the Krystal mountains stood tall and proud, towering over the people who lived and worked in the sleepy little village below. Everything seemed so vast and wonderful to her young eyes. The only constant cloud over the horizon came from the tight grasp of the King and all who followed him.
‘That’s not fair! You had a head-start!’ Irys pouted, huffing and puffing as she continued to struggle, wading through the snow that crunched with every footstep.
Once she had finally joined her sister, Irys let out a loud yawn.
‘Tired?’ Bri teased.
‘Never!’
Irys shivered, and Bri put her arm around her. ‘So what do you want to play now? Tag?’
‘No, that’s boring! I have a better idea.’ Irys grinned, grabbing a snow-dusted branch from the ground and smacking Bri on the arm. ‘Got you!’
‘Ouch!’ Bri winced. ‘Careful!’
‘I’m a warrior princess, I have to practise my fighting skills.’
’Don’t be silly, you can’t be a princess and a warrior!’
‘Why not? Princesses can fight too! Besides, you help people with your herbs. Why can’t I help people by fighting for them?’
‘Girls can’t be warriors, and Princesses don’t fight! And I’m not a herbalist yet; I’m just an apprentice.’
’Why can’t girls be warriors? I could be Irys, defender of Krys, and I’d slay all the dragons!’
Bri scoffed. ‘There aren’t any more dragons.’
‘There might be! Has anyone ever looked?’
‘Irys, who would go looking for a creature that could kill them? Even if they existed. Which they don’t.’
‘I would,’ Irys said, brandishing her imaginary sword. ‘I’d travel the whole world until I found one.’
‘Oh, Irys!’
‘Don’t laugh at me; one day I’ll be such a good fighter I can defeat any monster—the bad soldiers too!’ Her hands gripped her stick firmly as she swung at an imaginary creature.
Bri rolled her eyes. ‘You’ll never stop the soldiers, silly. Let alone a dragon!’
‘I will,’ her sister replied with confidence. Throwing the stick aside, she grasped handfuls of snow and tossed them up in the air. Some of it landed in Bri’s hair, sliding down the back of her neck as it began to melt. ‘I’ll find a sorcerer to help me.’
Fishing out what remained of the snow, Bri shivered violently. ‘Stop it, that’s cold!’
Scooping up a pile of her own, she took aim at Irys in retaliation—but stopped mid-motion. A horn sounded, echoing throughout the hills and the mountains, instilling a fear that could freeze the blood. No. Bri glimpsed dark shadows advancing upon their village. Silhouettes of all too familiar horses and their straight-backed riders, and a shiny, midnight-black carriage that glinted in the faint sunlight. Her skin turned as white as chalk, the previous rosy blush draining from her cheeks.
Thump. Bri jolted as snow collided with the back of her head.
Irys giggled, stopping only to throw another snowball.
‘Irys, no, stop! The soldiers are coming!’ Bri cried, ’we have to get home, come on.’
‘I’ll stop them!’ Her sister picked up her previously abandoned stick, wielding it as a weapon once more.
‘Irys, this is not a game, this is happening!’ Bri grabbed her sister by the shoulders. ‘Leave the stick. Come, hurry! We must go, now!’
On hearing the desperation in Bri’s voice, Irys at once dropped her make-shift weapon. They picked up their skirts and ran back the way they came, stumbling down the hill to their parents, as fast as their legs could carry them. As they reached the base of the hill, the back door to their house burst open. Bri’s father, followed by her mother, made their way across the snow to them.
‘Inside. Now.’ His voice, low and commanding, brought even Irys to attention.
The majority of the time, he tried to hide his anxiety from the girls. But Bri knew. She always knew. Bri flinched at the fearfulness in his piercing blue eyes.
Grabbing Irys by the hand, she muttered, ‘You heard father, let’s go inside. We’ll go find Mariebell.’
Ushering Irys into the house, Bri turned to close the door behind them, catching the panicked whisper of her mother as she did so.
‘Please, Nathaniel, tell me we have enough coin.’
Irys strained against Bri’s firm grip. ‘I want to know what’s going on!’ she insisted. ‘Besides, dolls are for babies.’
'Shh!’ Bri hissed, still holding tightly to her sister’s hand, she led her to the rag-rug by the fire, only letting go to pass Irys her doll. ‘Stay here and keep quiet!’
She left her there, dashing to the window, straining her ears to listen for any snippets of conversation; watching each movement like a hawk.
Villagers trickled into the square, coins held at the ready in their upturned palms.
The collector disembarked from the grand carriage, unmistakable in his black and golden cloak, emblazoned with two silver dragons. Several soldiers and knights flanked him, forming a protective half-circle around their leader. He strode to the very centre of the square, looking down upon the villagers with an expression of disdain.
‘You, boy!’ He barked at a thin and gangly teenager, who hovered in a corner as though trying to melt into the shadows. ‘Fetch me a table and chair, and be quick about it!’
‘Y-yes, Sir,’ the boy stammered, as he scurried away, stumbling over a loose cobblestone in the process.
Promptly, he returned with another man, each of them grasping one end of a long, wooden table, etched with Krys’ coat-of-arms. They set it down with sighs of relief.
‘Am I expected to stand?’ The collector once more turned a steely glare upon them.
‘No, Sir.’ The boy replied, as a young woman brought a chair with a plush, velvet cushion. ‘Is this to your satisfaction?’
The collector gave it a cursory glance. ‘It’ll do.’
He sat, and unfurled a long scroll, intently peering at the words inscribed. ‘You!’ The collector bellowed, crooking a finger towards one of Krylla’s farmers. ‘Dray Bryonsson?’
‘Aye, Sir,’ the weathered man met his eyes with a defiance.
‘Come forth.’
Not removing his gaze from the collector, Dray stepped forward and, with exaggerating slowness, tipped his coin onto the desk. He gave a curt nod as he departed him.
Meanwhile, instead of staying on the floor as Bri had instructed, Irys obstinately joined her.
'Irys!’
'I need to know what’s going on!’
‘No, you don’t. It’s a grown-up thing.’
Irys shot her a withering look. ‘You’re not a grown-up.’
‘But I’m older than you are.’
‘So?’
Bri gritted her teeth. ‘For once, just do as you’re told!’
'They’re our parents. If something’s wrong, I want to know what it is.’ She stared up at Bri with a pleading expression.
‘Ugh, fine,’ Bri growled, 'but be quiet!’
For once, Irys obeyed, retrieving a rickety, three legged stool to stand on.
The sisters watched as their parents came into view from round the side of the house, their father’s head bowed. Not once had Bri known him to be so desolate.
‘Why is Krylla always so cold?’ One of the soldiers muttered under his breath, teeth chattering.
‘At least you don’t have to live here,’ another replied, ‘I could almost feel sorry for these poor sods.’
'You can’t afford to feel sorry for anyone. Sentiment will get you sent out the door ’afore you know it.’
The collector snatched more silvers out of a villagers’ palm as he spoke.
Bri found herself to be holding her breath as they reached their home, and she murmured a fervent prayer.
She caught a glint of copper as her father held out some coins to the collector, who counted them with exaggerated slowness.
‘What’s that supposed to be, man?’ He sneered.
‘All I can give,’ Bri’s father replied, not daring to look him in the eye.
‘Enough of your insolence , filth!’ A soldier struck him across the face, leaving behind an angry red welt. Her father’s legs nearly gave out from the force of the blow.
Bri looked on, horrified, gripping Irys’ hand in a tight vice, only relaxing her grasp when her sister let out a small whimper of pain.
‘Stop, stop, please!’ Bri’s mother pleaded, grabbing the attacker by the arm before he could raise it for another blow.
‘Unhand me, woman!’ He wrenched away her arm and made a show of wiping the palm of his hand against his cloak.
‘So…’ the collector drawled. ‘You two won’t pay your taxes.’
‘It’s not a case of won’t,’ Bri’s father burst out, 'It’s a case of can’t. In the days of Quentin—’
‘Quentin isn’t the collector anymore. Now you deal with me. My predecessor was soft. He let you people off with just a few coppers several times. The King didn’t like that,’ he added with a sneer. ‘I’m sure you can guess what happened next. Too long you people have gotten away with this.’ His voice rose to a shout. ‘Too long you’ve been in debt to our benevolent King. His patience has run out, and so has ours.’ The collector read from the census once more.
‘Ah, Nathaniel, is it?’ he said, running his finger down the list of names. ‘I see here that you have two girls. One will go to the mines.’
‘No! Please! Have some mercy, Goodman. Don’t do this!’
Bri watched helpless as her parents begged, and her father fell to his knees before the man, who would not be moved. She couldn’t remember ever being as afraid as she now felt. Bri’s heart raced, her breath uneven and ragged.
Her mother released the clasp of her heart-shaped locket.
‘Here!’ She held it out to the collector. ‘Take this! Take whatever you wish! But please, spare my children.’
The collector turned the necklace over in his hand, sliding his fingers along the links of the chain. 'Brass? You think to buy my favour with a trinket of brass?’ He threw it to the ground. ‘Seize them!’
‘Not my girls! No! Not there!’
Bri’s eyes widened. The mines.
‘Bri, what’s happening? I don’t want to go with them. I-I won’t.’
Wrapping her arms round her sister, Bri hushed. ‘You won’t have to. I promise. You’re not going anywhere.’ They’ll not have you.
Releasing her hold, with a gentle touch she took Irys’ shoulders. ‘Stay here,’ she whispered, choking on the words. Taking in Irys’ face, Bri stared into her trusting eyes, blue as ice. No tears, Bri, she thought. No tears.
‘Bri?’
Bri forced a smile. ‘Everything will be all right.’ Stroking her sister’s raven hair for the last time, she tucked it behind the ear. ‘Be good, and stay hushed.’
Irys gave a nod.
Rising from the floor, Bri stood.
She moved towards the door, a cold bead of sweat dripping down her forehead. Tentatively, Bri pushed the door open. She shut it behind her with a finality, feet heavy as she took a step forward. ‘Me,’ she said, her voice shaking. The young girl approached the collector with trepidation. ‘Take me.’ Be brave.
‘No, Bri!’ Her Father rose from the floor and grabbed Bri’s arm. ‘We can’t lose you.’
Staring the collector down, and with a ferocity Bri never knew she possessed, her mother said, ‘You’re not taking any of my family this day. Now, turn around and leave us be.’ She crossed her arms and planted her feet in the snow, standing firm.
Bri struggled as her father’s grip tightened. ‘Father, let me go! Let them take me instead! Do not let them take Irys! Please!’
Her mother continued to shout at the collector, firing expletives that would have gotten Bri’s mouth washed out with soap.
The collector motioned to two of the soldiers, who marched straight past her mother and father, making for the house.
‘Mama, Papa! What are you doing? Get off me! Leave me alone!’ Hearing Irys’ cries, Bri struggled even harder. Her mother’s attention snapped away from the collector as she began to run.
‘Bastards! No. No! Do not go near her!’ Her face drained of all colour, lifeless as a corpse.
A soldier, positioned next to the collector, dismounted from his horse, moving a hand to the bright silver hilt of his sword.
One of the men exited the house, followed by another, who picked Irys up like a bag of flour, his arm wrapped around her waist.
Her mother charged forward, hitting out at the soldier with hands and feet. ‘Let my daughter go!’
The other man intervened, pushing her to the ground with a hefty shove. ‘Enough of this, woman! Stay down, right where you belong.’
Bri’s father lunged towards his wife with his free hand, still gripping Bri. ‘Never touch my wife,’ he said through gritted teeth.
‘Let me go! Let me go!’ Irys continued to shout, jabbing a bony elbow into her captor’s shoulder.
‘No more of that! Stop struggling, or you’ll be horsewhipped!’
‘Help me!’
‘Silence!’ He shoved her into the arms of another waiting soldier on horseback, who held her there firmly, clamping one hand over her mouth in an attempt to quieten her. When Irys’ teeth sunk into his skin, he released it with a grunt of pain. ‘You’ll pay for that,’ he growled, cuffing her round the head. Irys’ eyes rolled back as she lost consciousness.
The soldiers ignored the continued pleas of Bri and her parents as the collector watched on, his face an expressionless mask. Then, with one wave of his hand and a sharp nod, signalled the men to move on. ‘Onwards, men!’
Bri sank to her knees, the agony in her heart as though the collector had plunged a knife into it, twisting as he did so. The choking despair took away her breath, her ability to form solid thought. Except one. That of vengeance. ‘Irys…’ she whispered, her eyes fixed on her sister’s back until the riders left her line of sight.
