River's Dirge

The river ran backwards on the day the Queen vanished.

Avalyn, queen of Vyren, daughter of the river, was missing. A naiad of breathtaking beauty, she was the first and only love of the beloved King Alric, and as such was tolerated for his sake. The crown on her head was a point of raging jealousy for the noblewomen, and to make matters worse, she’d borne not one, but two heirs, infusing ancient, river-spirit blood into the line of Vyrean royals. Her disappearance had been discovered only that morning, but the wagging tongues of the court had already fanned the gossip into an insidious fire.

Iphise stood in a shadowed corner of the courtroom, watching the nobles whisper and rustle about in their silks like so many pen-fowl in the castle roosts. She shouldn’t be there, really, with no queen to mind she had little business in the den of snakes hissing their poisonous opinions. But for Avalyn’s sake, she felt the need to bear witness to the chaos.

“Iphise,” her name hissed from behind. She turned, Gwenlyn’s stern face appearing from behind a pillar. “Come with me.”

She took a few steps closer, not wanting to leave too suddenly and catching a stray, suspecting eye. “You should be with the twins.”

Gwenlyn reached out and took Iphise’s hands in hers, leaning close. “We have to go.”

Iphise searched the other woman’s eyes, looking for an explanation, dreading what she’d find. “Where?” She rasped, in her mind already denying the answer.

“Back to the river. Back home.”

“We can’t.” Iphise grabbed Gwenlyn’s hands tighter, as if to suppress the idea, to leech it back into her skin and make her keep it to herself. “They’re going to think we’re responsible for her disappearance.”

“They already do.”

The words turned to lead in her stomach, and a quick scan of the room only confirmed them. Stony glances told Iphise all she needed to know. The courtiers were afraid, and they needed an enemy to turn on; someone or something to turn their fear into hate. And as the only two naiads in the palace, Avalyn’s chosen ladies, they were too easy a target.

“Do not speak of this here,” Iphise hissed through clenched teeth. “Even the walls have ears.”

They navigated dim stone hallways, turning this way and that before ducking into Avalyn’s chambers and shutting the door firmly behind them. Rich tapestries lined the walls, fending off the castle’s chill, and as the fire died in the long hearth, the tall, narrow window provided gray, overcast light. A wide cradle nested with furs and blankets rested near Avalyn’s empty bed.

Gwenlyn crossed the room to stand over the cradle where the months-old prince and princess of Vyren napped. “We’re leaving,” she said, her mind already made up, “and we’re taking the twins.”

“Wrath of the river,” Iphise gripped the carved rail of the cradle, setting it rocking ever so gently. “Are you trying to incite a war?!”

“All I know is that we can better protect them than humans. Whatever took Avalyn away… it wasn’t our people’s doing.” Gwenlyn looked down at the sleeping infants, a motherly look crossing her features, sea-green eyes brimming with tears. “We have to protect them, Iphise, take them somewhere the humans can never find them. I’ve already lost my sister, I cannot lose her children.”

She felt fear like a rock settle in the pit of her stomach. “Shouldn’t we stay? It may be that Avalyn will return. Whatever happened to her might… work itself out and all this panic will be for nothing.”

Gwenlyn looked out the window to where the river could be seen in the distance, still stumbling over its new, unnatural course. “The river has already rescinded its blessing on Vyren. If we don’t leave now, we may never have another chance to go home.”

Iphise traced a nail over the scalloped hem of the princess’s blanket, watching her eyelashes flutter as she wandered an infant dream. “It would kill Alric to lose them too.”

A coldness hardened Gwenlyn’s eyes. “Avalyn would want them safe.”

One of the babies, the prince, stirred, opening murky, river-dark eyes and blinking in the pale light. Iphise swallowed back sudden tears. Gwenlyn was right. The humans could not be trusted with these precious children. She knew in that instant she’d die before she let anything happen to them.

“We have to hurry,” she whispered. “We’re already under suspicion.” The eyes of the palace would not be easy to evade.

“Tonight.” Gwenlyn whispered back, reaching down and letting the little prince trap one of her fingers in his grasp, “There’s a way out, I’m not supposed to know about it, but Avalyn showed me anyway. No prying eyes.”

The hours passed in agony, and Iphise found her anxiety only heightened as twilight settled over Vyren. There had been neither sight nor sound of the queen, and the unease of the castle was steadily growing.

They waited until the guards had passed the doorway and turned a corner to begin their flight. Gwenlyn revealed the little tunnel Avalyn had shown her months before, an escape route for desperate royals in times of greatest peril. By the grace of the river, the tunnel ran underneath the entire castle grounds and spit them out in a copse of restless cottonwood trees. From there the path would be easy enough, and out of sight of the castle walls.

Iphise looked down at the little prince in her arms. She pitied what lay ahead for him and his sister. The transition to a watery world would be difficult for him, half river-child that he was. Although his little body would have to fight hard, it was almost a blessing he was so young. There would be no hesitation to slow him down, only pure, ancient instinct fueling the transformation into naiad form.

An alarm bell and a blaze of yellow torchlight set her heart thundering.

Gwenlyn pushed her ahead. “They caught us. To the river- run!”

Iphise bolted like a fish upriver, racing over the grass and diving into the brush that lined the riverbanks. Doing her best to keep the thorns from snagging the baby, her arms bled freely as she forced her way free of the branches. The terrain changed quickly from brush to river-gravel, and the pebbles slid unsteadily beneath her feet. Then, she was in the water.

The baby in her arms was wide awake, brow furrowed at the sound of the water. “Be strong, little one.” She took a tentative step into the wrong-way river. It was freezing, unnaturally cold for midsummer. Forcing herself deeper, her breathing came fast and shallow. The water shouldn’t be this cold, or this furious. She took a deep, shaky breath, and let go of her human form.

Immediately, the water felt less cold, and the noisy rabbling rapids sounded less angry and more… mournful. The river was singing a dirge for its missing daughter.

Shouts from behind. Iphise whirled to find Gwenlyn. Gone. How far had she fallen behind? A snap in the underbrush sounded off to her right, and a baby’s cries grew more shrill. Gwenlyn pushed her way out from the thick bushes, staggering, an arrow shaft buried in her thigh barely visible in the sparse moonlight.

Iphise was too far gone. Helpless in the transition from earth to water, she watched Gwenlyn stumble, catching herself awkwardly with one stiff arm as the baby wailed.

“Gwenlyn!” Iphise screamed. She was so close. Just a few more steps and she’d be safe in the river.

Her knees buckled under the racing current, knocking her downriver. The little prince shrieked as the icy spray splashed his skin. “Almost there, little one, almost there.” She gasped, fighting for a footing. An arrow whistled over her head.

“Run!” Gwenlyn cried, her voice faint over the roaring water.

In a disorienting swirl of moonlight and shadow, Iphise could barely make out the riverbank, and the dark forms swarming it. A scream pierced the darkness as the river rose to swallow her. She fought to keep her head above the surface for one last, desperate breath.

“Gwenlyn!”