“The Ordeal of Queens” – an excerpt from River Dragon
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This is an excerpt from River Dragon, Book 5 in the Ari Ara Series. You can get River Dragon through our Community Publishing Campaign.
The lanterns and lit windows of Mariana Capital gleamed like a low constellation of stars. Ari Ara, Brinelle, and the others gathered abovedeck. Each stood quietly, holding their churning emotions close to their chest, no two reactions the same. The river bore the vessel swiftly, inexorably, toward the looming threshold of change. Ari Ara wavered between eagerly leaning into the downstream charge of the ship and nervously bracing her heels into the wooden deck as if that could halt their rushing pace.
In the moonlight, the city loomed like a crouched beast wallowing in the shallows. On the north end of the river island, a wide levy formed a wall against the spring floodwaters. A landing dock sat at its feet. A flight of stairs zigzagged up its thickness. The ship pivoted slowly, carefully, and the river’s pull drew it snugly up against the wooden buffers hooked to the stone pier. The crew threw heavy ropes over the pilings.
Thud-Thud.
A heavy, low drum beat sounded. The sound banged against the thick north wall, lifted from an unseen force in the warriors’ training yards next to the House of Marin. Brinelle paled, recognizing the sound of the percussion of thousands of warriors slamming the hilts of their swords against the steel-studded wood of their shields. Were the warriors raising an alarm?
Brinelle’s eyes widened at a sudden thought. Then, her gaze narrowed, furious.
It couldn’t be . . .
“Shulen,” she murmured.
“Look,” he answered, pointing to the dock.
Two figures slid out from the pooling shadows of the stairwell. Black cloaks fell from their shoulders. White robes captured the gleam of moonlight. A swish of fabric swept the stone dock, whispering to the murmuring current. One woman moved with the soft grace of light, gentle in demeanor. The second woman’s strong limbs cut through the night in sword-slashes of firm gestures. Ari Ara recognized them both.
“What are the Twins of the Sisterlands doing here?” Ari Ara asked, her high young voice suddenly loud.
Brinelle hushed her. The pair led the women’s order; the Warrior Sister overseeing the training of fighters, the Mother Sister tending the orphans.
“Ari Ara of the High Mountains.”
The Twins spoke together, one voice steely and hard, the other soft as thistledown.
“The ancestor spirits call your name.”
“No!” Brinelle’s sharp intake of breath punctuated the ritual invocation. She gripped Ari Ara’s shoulder as if the gesture could halt the Twins’ next words.
“The fate of nations follows in your footsteps.”
Shulen stiffened with disbelief.
“The time has come to weigh your character.”
Ari Ara cast a wild, confused glance at her aunt, hoping for a hint. Nothing.
“And see if it balances on the scales of power.”
A spark hissed in the silver light.
“We call you to the Ordeal of Queens.”
A second spark crackled and died. The third caught. Twin balls of flame swung from long chains, back and forth, mesmerizing, once, twice, thrice. Then the flames leapt, growling and hissing into the air, arcing in a wide circle around the Twins. The spinning fires kept the heir and her companions from disembarking from the ship. The sisters had blocked the staircase and denied them access to the House of Marin and the city beyond.
“You will come south to the Sisterlands. This city is barred against you until you pass through the trials of the ancestor spirits.”
“I order you to stand aside,” the Great Lady of Mariana commanded. “This is neither the time nor the place for this foolishness.”
“You dare question the will of the ancestors?” the Warrior Sister challenged her in a voice that rasped like steel over steel.
“They have called Ari Ara, not us,” the Mother Sister intoned with the ringing resonance of a bell.
“You conniving – ”
“Watch your words, Brinelle de Marin!” the Warrior Sister barked, her voice severe with disapproval. “The ancestors are listening.”
“So?” Brinelle shot back, undaunted. “Let them bear witness to your false invocation of their names. Stand aside or I shall have you removed.”
“By whom, exactly?”
There was no mistaking the triumphant gleam in the Warrior Sister’s eyes. On the heights of the stone wall, a roar of flame sounded. Sisters in blue robes so pale they seemed like pools of fallen moonlight rose from their hidden crouches, casting off the mask of black cloaks. They spun their chains of fire round, circle upon circle blazing bright in the moonlight.
Thud-Thud. Thud-Thud.
Thousands of warriors struck sword against shield, summoned by the Twins of the Sisterlands. They drummed with ferocity and strength, compelled by a sense of righteousness, responding to the ancestor spirits’ call to initiate the heir.
Brinelle went white. She was the head of the Marianan army, but they were beyond her command now.
“This . . . this is mutiny,” she spluttered, clearly unnerved.
“No, Great Lady,” the Warrior Sister corrected her, “this is tradition. Your warriors stand by the ancestors. Not even you can stand against them.”
The Great Lady gaped at them in shocked fury. She slammed her fist down on the ship’s rail. This insubordination of the Sisterhood would not – could not – be tolerated! They had barred the city against the girl! It was a slap in the face of the Great Lady – everyone knew she intended to return to Mariana Capital with the girl. In her fifteen years ruling, Brinelle had never been so close to losing her iron grip on power. How had she not anticipated this scheme? She could kick herself for not seeing this move coming.
Despite everyone else’s dismay, a thrilled tingle ran through Ari Ara. Whatever was happening was certainly more interesting than stuffy tutors and protocol lessons.
She edged over to where Finn and Minli stood huddled together near the prow.
“So,” Ari Ara asked, clearing her throat, “what’s this ordeal thingy?”
Minli and Finn stared at her with matching looks of disbelief.
“How can you not know about the Ordeal of Queens?” Finn asked. Even he knew about the spiritual test of an aspiring monarch.
Ari Ara shrugged impatiently. She could recite the reasons for the gaps in her education. People had certainly mentioned them often enough: she’d grown up unschooled in the High Mountains, raised by the Fanten, and sent out to tend sheep until she was eleven. The list of things she should know – but didn’t – could fill volumes. That’s why she had Minli. Didn’t everyone need a friend who had memorized half the library?
“Are you going to tell me or not?” she asked Minli.
“It’s a series of challenges you’ll have to do before you’re allowed to ascend the throne,” he explained. “They prove – or disprove – your worthiness in the eyes of the ancestors. The Sisters conduct them in their territory to the south. The spirits are somehow involved.”
“And?” she prompted when he fell silent.
Minli shrugged.
“That’s all I know – the whole thing is shrouded in mystery and secrecy.”
“So, that’s it? A test? Why is my aunt so upset?” she asked, gesturing to the hushed argument raging between Brinelle and Shulen. What was all the fuss about if she had to do this ordeal at some point, anyway?
“You’re only fifteen,” Minli said.
“And woefully unprepared,” the Great Lady said, striding over and charging into the conversation. “Heirs have failed – or worse, died. The Sisters should not have invoked the Ordeal of Queens so soon, and certainly not without consulting me.”
Then there was the question of timing. Why now? What were they playing at? Roka and Sorra Maro, twins by birth as well as position, had ruled the Sisterhood for decades. In all that time, they had rarely contradicted the will of the House of Marin. Brinelle sighed the weary sigh of a warrior who has battled for days and must somehow rise to another. It had not been easy to repeal Ari Ara’s exile and gain the nobles’ confirmation of her claim to the throne. The vote had passed by the slimmest of margins. The Warrior Sister had flipped her vote in support of the girl . . . and now Brinelle knew why. Roka Maro simply wished to discredit Ari Ara through the guise of the ancestor spirits. Undoubtedly, she planned to sabotage the ordeal every step of the way. By calling the ceremony so soon, they could ensure that Ari Ara would fail.
“Take our ship to the south docks,” the Great Lady hissed to the captain. “It’s the Twins that will leave this city, not us.”
The captain drew breath to give the order, but Shulen spoke.
“Wait. Don’t do that.”
The Great Lady spun on him, livid.
“You dare question my orders?”
“You cannot possibly challenge the Sisters. Not over this,” Shulen told her quietly.
“I will throw them out of the capital by their robes.”
“Oh?” Shulen asked her sharply. “You and what army? Pull yourself together, Brinelle.”
“I could say the same to you, Nshoka Shulen.”
Their use of first names shocked Ari Ara almost as much as the thudding drumbeats of the swords and shields. She had never heard anyone call Shulen by his childhood name. Nor would the duty-bound man ordinarily abandon the Great Lady’s titles and honorifics. The night had turned inside out. The structures of the world had upended.
“They are forcing our hand,” Brinelle grumbled, glaring at the Twins. The Sisters waited, impassive and opaque with mystery, fire whirling, expressions masked by the swirl of smoke and shadow. It was a clever trap. Brinelle could see no way out, not with the warriors participating in the invocation of the sacred ritual.
“Then they will regret it,” Shulen said quietly. He had faith in Ari Ara. If she passed the ordeal, it would silence her detractors and grant her an unquestionable right to rule.
Thud-Thud. Thud-Thud.
Ari Ara’s heart boomed louder than the thousand swords of Mariana’s warriors. The whirl of the fire dizzied her. The acrid smoke stung her eyes. Everyone argued around her.
“It is too soon.”
“We can prepare her.”
“It is dangerous.”
“She will have us by her side.”
“What if she fails?”
“What if she succeeds?”
Ari Ara cut into the endless spiral of words.
“I have to do it, right?”
Both Shulen and Brinelle nodded.
“Then there’s really just one question,” Ari Ara pointed out. She lifted her chin and set her hands on her hips, defiant. A spark of excitement gleamed in her stinging eyes. Her hair blazed in the firelight.
“What are we waiting for?”
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This is an excerpt from River Dragon, Book 5 in the Ari Ara Series.
You can get River Dragon through our Community Publishing Campaign.