The Queen’s Emerald

Excerpt: Chapter 1

By: Jessica Sircar

Returning 

1

It had been nine long, seemingly never ending, years since Maddox stood in this courtyard. Nothing much had changed with the passage of time. It was still shabby, and gray, awash with a cacophony of sounds. It even smelled the same; a vivid mixture of stale beer, sour wine, urine, moulding hay, and dung. Nothing had changed, nothing except Maddox himself. 

As Maddox sat atop his horse he took everything in with dark brown eyes and a quick look. The locations of buildings, people, guards, wells, and other major aspects of the courtyard were cataloged in his mind with that glance, as his training had taught. Then he took a second longer look, glaring darkly around the interior of the stone walls. With this look he analyzed the place, looking for weakness, vantage points, weapons and the people who would be likely to use them, and even the attitudes of the people inside. The people all looked miserable. 

Some of the sights were so familiar that Maddox winced as the lack of progress in the time he had been gone. The Blacksmith’s shop was located in the same place it had been for what was likely generations, haloing itself with walls caked in soot. It likely would have caught fire and burned to ash if it wasn’t already so thick with soot. The nearby well lacked a crank wheel and instead the bucket was lowered and painstakingly raised by hand. The dark, damp, fowl looking hay, was piled in the same corner it had been in for all his memory. He knew the hay was carted out every few weeks, but clearly no one bothered to make sure it all made it into the cart. 

Maddox calmly glared at his surroundings while waiting for his partner, Fen, to remount his horse. His partner and friend had dismounted to chat with one of the guards about accommodations and exchange information. 

Nine years ago Maddox wouldn’t even go near a guard for fear of a beating. He was an orphan left to scrape and beg and do hard labor while fighting the rats and mangey dogs for a corner of clean hay to sleep on. Of course he hadn’t actually been allowed to sleep in the barn, so if he couldn’t manage to sneak in he was left at the mercy of the Frost. The Frost was the bitterly cold northern wind, it was almost like a god this far north. More people here feared the Frost more than the wrath of the gods. Without shelter in the barn and the warmth of the horses Maddox had to make the best of a corner or a hole. When Maddox had left this frigid hell and thawed out as he traveled south he was surprised that he regained feeling in all but three toes. And since the toes weren’t too important he didn’t mind. 

Of course if he was caught in the barn the beatings were only slightly less damaging than the cold. Old Levine who ran the stables welcomed Maddox’s help for chores, but he also welcomed and chance to beat the child. Skinny and gawky when he was young Maddox had been uncoordinated enough back then to give Levine quite a few opportunities.  Maddox resisted the urger to trace his nose with a finger, a permanent reminder of those times. 

As Maddox sat on his horse he noticed a growing number of people heading to the well…some forgot to even bring their buckets. Instead they were all staring at the two visitors. So different from one another Maddox knew they would skip over him, and instead focus on Fen. By this point Fen was laughing and joking with several of the guards. His brilliant yellow cloak screamed for attention and he got it. He was a figure of color harsh enough to bring tears to the eye in this land of gray and brown. The cloak was not the end of it, he wore a hat of leaf green with an equally brilliant yellow plume dancing with the slightest movement of his head. 

If the look had not been part of their plan Maddox would have steered well clear of a fool like Fen, for beneath the cloak was a more riotous confusion of color. The problems all started with the under shirt, it was  bright cranberry, with dark red dots trailing in swirls across it. This was topped with a shirt of brilliant orange that nearly radiated light like a sun. Only Fen would pair that with blue dyed leather and wool riding pants with ballooned thighs. The belt, belt bags, and knife scabbard were, luckily, the same blue as his pants, but being buckled on over his over shirt it lacked any coordination. Fen was a sight to drop jaws. 

But that was the point. Anyone watching them would be drawn to the flashy clothes and otherworldly colors and skim right past the dark and boring figure beside it. Fen’s personality was as equally flashy, welcoming, and entrancing for people used to the same old drudgery of their daily lives. He was a shameless flirt and an animated storyteller, who easily made up for his partners lack of civility. 

Of course all this meant that Maddox was typically left to the shadows. And that was all well and good for him. He like his role as observer and spy perfect well enough. But with the crowd gathering there would be more familiar faces, and right now Maddox needed to remain a strange dark figure. Tugging at Reaper’s reins Maddox gave the horse a familiar signal, the horse looked pleased to respond. Shifting from one foot to another as any impatient horse would, Reaper sidled his glossy dark body closer and closer to Fen and the guards. With another tug the horse snorted softly and a quick as a flash of lightning reached out and tore off Fen’s hat. Then without further direction Reaper dropped the hat and proceeded to trample it into the soft, slightly damp earth at his feet. 

The crowd of guards roared with laughter and started slapping each other on the shoulders while pointing to the downed feather hat. As always Fen feigned disbelief and outrage, pushing at the horse and moaning about his beautiful hat. It was an old trick, and it always worked well as the gathering crowd laughed and shaking their heads at the antics they remembered they could not stand and gawk at visitors. Fen lamented his hat with the guards, and gestured to the two horses, and also to his own stomach. After a few final exchanges, and what looked to be a set of directions, Fen remounted his horse and moved off to their right. Maddox knew the way to the stable, but he let Fen take the lead, at least in appearance.