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Ava thought Ethne was out of her mind, asking Lysa to marry her. Lysa seemed to have every intention of becoming a great adventurer and only seemed half-serious about her courtship with Ethne. Ava thought it odd: in the beginning, everyone had assumed that Ethne – being a lecher – was the one who did not take their budding romance as anything real. But it was Ethne who wanted commitment and partnership, it was Ethne who wanted marriage, while Lysa dreamed only of traveling, treasure hunting, and bedding women. It would have been funny if Ethne’s heart wasn’t being dragged through the mud, Ava thought.
As they were walking that morning, some time before the orc attack, Lysa had confided in secret that she did indeed care for Ethne, but she wasn’t ready to settle down. She then went on to describe all the things she wanted to do – including a few of the women she planned to return to Hargendon to bed and the things she wanted to do to them. Ava had giggled her head off, delighted by how naughty her former handmaiden was.
Lysa then confessed that she was excited to visit Hastow not just for the wedding but in order to see Rowan again. While she did care for Ethne, she had desired big, strong, laughing Rowan something fierce and admitted that the two of them had kissed on more than one occasion, with Rowan even touching her breasts.
Ava had to admit she was a little jealous. She and Lysa had both been locked away at Caradin for most of their lives, never seeing other women who were like them, and now that they were out, it seemed only Lysa was having any real fun! Every time Ava tried to have fun, it blew up in her face. She sometimes still thought of the man at Hilvara’s Knickers with burning fury. Bedding Saoirse had been pleasant, at least, but knowing that the Knight of the Lion also preferred Lysa irked Ava as well. The way Saoirse had looked at Lysa – as if Lysa were a savory morsel she wanted to devour! Ava wanted the knights to look at her that way. She was supposed to be a classical beauty – a lovely princess with long, golden hair—but it seemed only Liadan really wanted her – and even Liadan lusted for Lysa, she knew.
It was getting to a point where, if Liadan tried bedding Ava and Lysa both again, Ava would not allow it.
With the orcs dead, they paused to bandage Ethne’s cut arm – Lysa fussing over the Knight of the Sparrow all the while – and then they continued on to Godga’s cabin. It was a small cabin standing under two large trees, both of them naked of leaves, their scraggly branches reaching like death’s fingers to the sky. To Ava’s shock, there were bones and severed heads hanging from the cabin rafters, and the skull of a young dragon stood outside near the step, just large enough to match the size of a wooden chair.
Noticing the dragon skull with horror, Ava decided to hide her dragon egg inside her cloak, away from Godga’s prying eyes. She was terrified the old witch would try to take it.
As they drew nearer, Ava thought the entire area surrounding Godga’s cabin was eerie. Here, there was no birdsong, and the sky seemed ever overcast with gray, and even the whisper of the lake beneath the ice wasn’t soothing but rather sounded like the whispers of the dead. Dark, gloomy, and cold – in the middle of the day! It gave Ava a terrible, foreboding feeling, but she also knew they had come too far to turn back now. Godga was their only chance.
“So here we are,” said Ethne unhappily. “Now is our last chance to turn back. We don’t have to do this.”
“There is no turning back,” Ava said, startled by the finality in her own voice. But she could feel it, something closing behind her, as if she had reached a point of no return. Whatever happened after this – whether she drove out King Bjorn or not—would result directly from having come here, she knew.
Ava squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and wiggling from Liadan’s protecting arm, she strolled toward the wooden front door of the cabin and knocked three times. She heard the others crunching over the snow behind her, heard Ethne muttering bitterly under her breath that they should turn back.
There was movement and shuffling on the other side. Then the door opened, and they all looked down into the wrinkled face of a tiny old woman, who stood before them wrapped in fur shawls and wearing a ragged peasant’s gown. Her long hair fell around her in a silvery veil, and her small eyes were quick and cunning. She smiled at them quite suddenly, showing gaps in her crooked, black teeth. Behind Ava, Lysa gasped, appalled.
“I’ve been waiting for you, Daughter of Breandan,” said Godga, gazing up at Ava with a sort of hunger that unsettled her.
The old woman’s foul breath hit Ava full in the face, and she tried not to sneer as she answered, “Waiting for me?”
“Yessss,” said Godga, hissing like a snake. Her smile was wide, her greedy eyes still fixed on Ava. Very slowly, her black eyes moved to Liadan, and she said with approval, “Hmm. Yesss. And the wild woman. . . .” Her eyes moved to Ethne and Lysa, who stiffened. “And the Sparrow and the pirate queen. Yesss.”
Lysa frowned. “I’m not a . . .”
“Come in, won’t you?” said Godga, bowing and standing aside as she held open the door.
They filed inside, and Godga closed the door behind them, shutting out the cold.
“Sit and eat,” said the Godga. “Sit! Sit!”
Ava stood still for a moment, relieved as the heat of the room washed over her. A fire was roaring on the hearth, and wooden cups of water and bowls of hot stew had been set out on a wooden table set for four. Ava frowned at the table. The Godga had known they were coming, but how? The last Seer had died a thousand years before. Or so the stories said.
“Sit!” Godga practically screeched, impatient now.
Ava and the others finally went to the table and sat, and the knights took off their gauntlets. They glanced around the cozy little room, from which branched a hall, but it looked like a normal cabin any old peasant woman would have lived in: cooking utensils and pots hanging from the rafters, a brace of hares drying, a few chairs near the fire. Except there were skulls and bones here, too. Human and orc skulls—and what looked like a few small goblin skulls – hung from the ceiling, grinning with yellow teeth.
Godga took one of the skulls down, and they saw her ladle some stew from the cauldron simmering on the edge of the fire. Then she sat at the table with them and – to Ava’s horror – started drinking the stew from the skull.
“Eat! Eat!” Godga cried, pausing irritably when she noticed they weren’t eating but staring at her.
They all hesitated, then deciding there was no reason for the Magi Godga to poison them, they started eating. Ava found the stew surprisingly delicious.
“The Dragon of Almara will be here soon,” the Godga said, startling them all so that they stopped eating and looked at her. The Godga was staring at the ceiling, as if she was listening to something distant, and her pale lips were parted. After another beat, she looked around the table at them and said gleefully, “Ah yesss. She comes. She comes!” She gave a surprisingly girlish giggle.
Liadan frowned. “Will you stop the Dragon? We came to you for aid.”
“Yes, I will stop her,” said Godga calmly.
Ava looked up quickly. “You will?” she asked sharply. “But why? How does it benefit you to aid us? There must be a reason you agreed so quickly.”
Godga smiled, showing her horrible teeth again. “Ooo. You ask the smart questions. Not as stupid as I thought you were.”
Ava’s face darkened.
“I don’t think any of you could comprehend just how old I am or who I am,” said Godga seriously, almost sternly, “so suffice it to say that I remember a time when elves walked this land and when women ruled in peace and prosperity. Since the men took over, it has been constant war, trouble, and strife. I would see an end to that.” She looked at Ava. “You are the key to restoring the world to what it once was. You are the last living female descendant of House Damaris! If I help you survive, you will find yourself able to return and take back your throne.”
“Yes!” Ava said at once, suddenly breathless as the yearning overtook her. “That is exactly what I desire! I don’t know how I shall gather an army, but there must be those who still support my claim.”
“You will not need an army,” said Godga.
Everyone at the table went still, and Ava knew they were thinking of her dragon egg.
Ethne squinted. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” said Godga, her eyes sliding to their corners to regard Ethne irritably, “the princess will hatch her dragon egg!”
The dragon egg was hidden behind Ava’s cloak still, and she clutched it protectively in one arm, letting her cloak fall back to reveal it. So the Godga already knew, then.
“And she will give birth to a mighty daughter – Mightier than the Dragon of Almara herself!” Godga went on triumphantly. “And this daughter will return to the seven kingdoms and take them for women. And Ava, once queen, will have a second daughter – and she will give it to me.”
“What!” Ava cried at once. It took her a moment to realize Liadan had shouted the same word.
Godga’s calm expression didn’t change. She was sipping from her skull of stew and waved a dismissive hand. “You would only have to give me the one, not the both of them,” she said, as if this should have soothed them.
Ava placed a protective hand over her womb, in which Liadan’s fiery seed was still blazing. She glared across the table at the old woman.
Liadan scowled. “Never! You shall never have a child of mine! You hag!”
Godga only smiled at the insult and continued sipping her stew. She was looking at Ava and she was waiting, almost as if she knew what was going through Ava’s mind.
Ava bit her lip, knowing that she was relenting. She wanted to return to Caradin Castle. She wanted her dresses and her pretty things, she wanted to rule the seven realms on high, and she wanted to see the age of men crumble to dust. And after sleeping for weeks on the hard, cold ground and starving on what food they could get between taverns, she was willing to pay any price at this point, any price. She could feel the disbelief of the others, how they stared at her with their mouths open, their eyes large, as she said, “What would you do with my child – the child?”
“Ava!” Liadan cried in disbelief.
“You can’t be serious!” Lysa hissed, leaning toward Ava.
Godga only smiled smugly. “I am all alone in this cabin. Powerful as I am, the one thing I cannot do is bear children. I wish to pass my knowledge on, raise another magi to guard the bridge.”
Lysa scowled. “The bridge won’t need guarding when the age of women is restored!”
Godga’s small, black eyes slid to Lysa. “Won’t it? Restoring the balance will awaken old things . . . Dragons, giants, beings that have slumbered since the fall of woman . . . the Old Gods. The magick will come pouring out of Wildoras, chaotic and unchecked, if there is no one here to hold it back. I have been the sentinel for centuries. My time is almost spent.”
“Why didn’t you have your own daughter then?” Ava demanded. Her hand was still clutched protectively over her womb.
“I did,” said Godga quietly. “She is dead.”
Silence fell over the table, and Godga calmly sipped stew from her skull again, not looking at anyone.
“But wait,” said Ava into the silence, “I thought the women of Wildoras were cursed, that women were no longer allowed to rule after what the wild women did.”
Godga shook her head. “The gods never cursed anyone, child. And the Wildorans never abused their power! Those are fairytales! It was men – King Azmon specifically – who cursed women. He was jealous of our power, and so he sought to cast us down.” Her face twisted with bitterness and disgust.
Ava’s face darkened, remembering the story. Yes, Azmon had been responsible for the fall of women. She had been taught that much, even if the rest had been lies.
“Of course, the notion that King Azmon could wield magick was another lie,” went on Godga scathingly. “No man has ever wielded magick! Azmon could not have lit a candle! No, he summoned four beings of darkness and sent them forth to the four corners of the realms, and there, each being guards a great crystal in a tower, and each crystal holds the curse in place over all women.”
“So to break the curse,” said Ethne, “someone would have to kill those monsters and destroy the crystals. . .” She sighed. “Is that someone us?”
Godga grinned, amused by Ethne’s lack of enthusiasm. “If the princess would restore the realms to women, yes. Of course,” she waved a wrinkled hand, “the princess could just as easily take her own throne and forget the other kingdoms. But that is not your intention, is it, Princess Ava Damaris, fifth of your name?”
Ava regally lifted her chin, pleased to hear her title. She looked at Liadan imploringly. “Will you help me in this, my love?”
“The answer is in the question,” said Liadan with a smile. “I am yours, my princess.” She reached across the table and took Ava’s hand. “To the very end.”
Ava’s heart fluttered.
“I can’t believe it!” burst Lysa happily, making them all jump. Her fists were clenched under her chin, and she was grinning widely, her brown eyes almost feverish. “We’re going on a quest!!!”
***
AS IT TURNED OUT, THE Magi Godga was right about Luane arriving there. Shortly after they had finished eating, the Dragon of Almara sent a fireball at the cabin. Ava watched in horror as a giant ball of flame came rocketing at the window – while Godga calmly sipped from her skull and did not look up – and was amazed when the fireball bounced harmlessly off the glass and sprang back at Luane – hitting her in the face. Luane fell to the snow, where she writhed in agony, consumed by her own fire. They all sat in the cabin, listening awkwardly, as she burned to death.
“There’s a protection charm over the cabin,” Godga calmly explained when they all looked to her.
Lysa looked smugly at Ethne. “Told you she was a muttonhead.”
Ethne rolled her eyes and tipped back her cup for a gulp of water.
When Luane’s screams quieted, Liadan looked across the table at Ava, and her blue eyes were sad.
“What is it, my knight?” Ava asked, rubbing Liadan’s hand soothingly.
Liadan shook her head. “It is cowardly that I hid in here while Luane fell into a trap. Cowardly and without honor!”
Ethne made an impatient noise. “Oh, get over yourself, Liadan! Would you rather have died facing her? Because that’s what would have happened! Letting Luane make a jest of herself was the smarter path.”
“Glad you see things my way now,” agreed Lysa, still looking smug.
Ethne shrugged. “It’s true I wanted to journey to Hastow, but I’m glad we could spare Saoirse this fight. She’s getting too old for this shite anyhow.”
Ava rose gracefully from the table, meeting eyes with old Godga, who looked up at her with a small smile. “Thank you for your aid,” Ava said graciously. “When our second child is old enough to walk, I s-shall return her here to become your apprentice, though it tears my hair in twain to do so.”
Godga’s smile widened, though it did not go to her cold black eyes. “I shall hold you to your promise . . . your highness.”
Ava looked into the black voids of Godga’s eyes and thought she perceived something of a threat. But the look was gone as quickly as it’d come, and then they were out in the snow again, making their way on foot – at last – to Hastow.