Child of Thresh: Chasmaria Chronicles

By Lisa Dunn

Winter passes in peace, but at the first sign of spring, Grit's village, Thresh, must prepare to defend against a vengeful army bent on annihilation. Grit will lead the children of Thresh to the safety of Castle Concord, leaving Coil and the warriors behind to face Turf's army.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anaiah Press
• Release date: Oct 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9780997335880

Book preview

One

In a patch of snow, a single daffodil blossomed. Grit set her water pail on the soggy earth and knelt to study the harbinger of spring. In previous years, it would have filled her with anticipation of warmer days, of cloaks crammed into dusty trunks, of laughing swims in the Western Sea. But Chasmaria was different now than before the harsh winter, before the battle for Koradin, before she learned of enemies greater than boastful sirelings and spiteful sages. Grit cradled the flower’s petals between her fingers as her dagger sliced through its stem. She spat on the elegant leaves that had framed the yellow blossom and rose to her full height.

May ashes mark this spot forever. She closed her fist around the flower, crushing its petals.

Cold river water sloshed out of her pail and onto her leg, plastering her trousers to her shin. By the time she arrived at Coil of Dara’s hut on Thresh’s Outer Ring, the bucket was half empty. She pounded her clenched fist against the door.

What is it, Grit? Coil rubbed his temple, squinting in the morning light.

It’s a daffodil. She pressed the flower against his tunic, leaving a smear of botanical debris across his heart. "It was a daffodil. For all your study of plants, you ought to recognize a daffodil."

I’d venture to say my study methods are more precise than yours. Coil picked a piece of stem from his chest and examined it. How like him, to act as if her anger were something he could bottle.

Don’t mock me, Coil. You know what this daffodil means. It meant another goodbye. Kinsmon had been clear. When the first daffodil blooms, gather the weak, wounded, and aged. Watch for that first blossom. It will be your signal to move. Lead all who are unfit for battle from Thresh to the safety of Castle Concord. She didn’t have the courage to say goodbye, not yet. Far safer to focus on the practical.

She pushed past Coil and crossed to the table on the far side of the hut. Your warriors promised me at least one aid from each of them. I assume your aid will be some sort of medicine for our journey. Which of these is ours? She rifled through the pastes and poultices, sending one jar crashing into another. She could wield a dagger with precision. Why did her hands shake over jars?

Coil slid a basket filled with medicines toward Grit. These are for your journey. Oath will know the uses of each.

Alert the council, then. We leave tomorrow morning.

As Grit wrapped her fingers around the basket handle, Coil placed his hand over hers.

Wait.

She wriggled her hand, but his grip held firm. Why must he make this so difficult?

We haven’t time for trivialities, Coil. Daffodils are just the beginning. Next the mountain pass will thaw, and Turf of Elna and Bord will be upon us. We ridiculed him all these years, but you mustn’t think this will be a simple sparring match. He commands Strike’s army now, with Havoc’s support. You saw him in Koradin. His childish hatred has grown into a monstrous disdain for all that is good. I don’t deny the goodness of my hand in yours, but you would serve Thresh better by finalizing preparations with your warriors.

She pulled free of him and looked at the open door and then at her muddy boots. It hurt too much to look at Coil. You will keep Thresh until my return, won’t you? You promised, after all.

He lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. I will fulfill my end of our alliance. Can I trust you to fulfill yours? Will you indeed return to me?

She had promised to return, but how could she guarantee it? Too many uncertainties lay ahead. She couldn’t let him sense her fears. I’ll return, Coil. I swore to it.

He took her hand and traced the gold ring he had placed around her finger several months earlier, before they fought to free the neighboring village of Koradin from Strike of the Northern Mountains. Turf of Elna and Bord may have separated Strike from his army, but he shall not separate us from Thresh or from one another.

Grit squared her shoulders and forced a smile. No, he shall not. Unless, of course, you hold me here and speak of sacred promises for all eternity. In that case, he may very well destroy us all.

Coil let her go. Just outside the door, she bent to pick up her water bucket and glanced into the hut. Coil clutched the edge of the table, his head bowed over his healing remedies. He had always watched her. Why did he turn his back now?

She would run to him, but to waver was weakness, and she couldn’t afford weakness now. Neither could Coil. I’ll come back. If I don’t, I’ll pierce my own heart with my dagger, and no medicine will save me.

Leaving Coil, Grit continued along the Outer Ring until she came to her hut, which she had claimed upon her dame’s death. Inside, Seal and Oath were just waking. She had claimed them, too. All that had belonged to her dame was hers. It wasn’t much of an inheritance, but it was all that remained of Berth.

Grit pulled the blankets off the nine-year-old twins. Waste no more time in slumber. Oath, my appetite abandoned me, but fix breakfast for Seal and yourself. Seal, feed the horse.

Oath rubbed the sleep from her blue eyes. Has something happened?

Spring is upon us, child, and soon Turf will be, too. We’re leaving tomorrow. I count on the pair of you to pack our belongings while I’m out. She glanced from one twin to the other. They were decent children. Strange in their ways—Oath with her nonstop chatter and Seal with her unnerving silence—but pleasant and dependable as any Threshan children, provided she didn’t push them too far from their natural inclinations. They would do what needed to be done.

Grit strode from the hut. She took the main road through the outer, middle, and inner rings and arrived at the meetinghouse just as Trova was sending pairs of older children to collect water from the river. Inside the meetinghouse, younger children rolled up their mats. It was a good plan, establishing a home here for the children whose dames and sires didn’t return from Koradin. How Trova managed to care for her natural offspring as well as the orphans was beyond Grit. Maybe Kinsmon should have chosen Trova to lead everyone to Castle Concord.

How long will it take them to pack? Grit asked.

Trova picked up a toddler and bounced him on her hip. Has spring come already?

I plucked the first daffodil this morning. As Kinsmon instructed, I’ll lead all who cannot fight to Castle Concord. We need to be gone before Turf arrives. Grit glanced around the meetinghouse. Your work here mustn’t be in vain.

A look of determination came over Trova’s haggard face. I didn’t keep them alive all winter for nothing. When do we leave?

Tomorrow morning. Tell them to pack lightly, but make sure they have sufficient clothing and food for three days. We’ll restock our supplies in Koradin.

As Grit turned to go, Trova grabbed her sleeve. Slow down. There are those in Thresh who need a moment to breathe. To say goodbye.

Grit closed her eyes. Trova might be right, but a delay could get them all killed. Turf will be here, Trova. We can’t linger.

She shook Trova’s hand from her arm, left the meetinghouse, and jogged the short distance to the forge. The heat hit her as she entered. Dame March was already sharpening weapons.

Talon stood on the other side of the fire, hammering at what appeared to be a hook in the making. His cane was propped against the wall beside him. She would have to be careful. Talon was as sensitive about his twisted leg as he was about Merit of Shore and Brakken. The sireling stopped his work. Both he and his dame looked expectantly at Grit.

I’m sure Sire Swot will tell you soon enough. We’re leaving tomorrow, Trova and the children and I and… What words would be gentlest on Talon’s fragile pride? And any who are unable to fight.

Talon set down his hammer. It will be a long journey. I’m sure I’ll slow your progress.

Nonsense, Dame March said.

Grit twisted her gold ring. The children themselves will slow our pace. I’ve already planned an extra day for the journey to Koradin. You may ride Shriven if your leg aches too much.

There you go. You’ll ride the horse. Dame March focused too intently on her work. Did she suppose Talon’s resistance could be polished away like the metal dust on a sword fresh from the sharpening stone?

Turf will be merciless. You don’t know him as I do, Talon said.

I handled his sword enough to know he’s only a man. You heard Grit, Talon. Pack your bag. The woman returned Grit’s gaze, her eyes unblinking and her mouth a firm line.

I ought to fight, Talon said, but he reached for his cane. He must have known how foolish his words were. Grumbling, he limped past Grit and out of the forge, his fire still burning and his hook unfinished.

Grit faced Dame March. You will accompany us, as well, won’t you?

Dame March set down the sword she’d been working on. However honorable you may be, you are still a foolish girl, Grit of Berth and Stone.

Grit glanced at Dame March’s misshapen foot. You cannot expect to fight.

Dame March crossed her arms over her thick chest. Our warriors need all the support they can get. Swords break, and daggers grow dull. I couldn’t make it to Koradin, let alone this castle of yours in the Southern Realm. Go without me. Keep our people safe. I’ll serve our village in the only way I’m able.

Talon will not like to leave you here.

Talon must venture beyond this village. He’s too troubled by what it no longer holds for him. Take him away. Let him see that life continues after loss. Dame March stuck out her foot, for the first time openly admitting her deformity. This happened before I bore Talon, before I allowed Sire Swot to enter my hut, before I knew him as more than a chattering ninny. Talon must forget the wounds, both to his body and his spirit. Merit of Shore and Brakken is dead. Dead and gone, and I doubt she’d have him moping about like a fool over her. Tell him whatever you need to tell him. Just be sure he goes with you.

She looked at Grit with a conviction that forbade argument. No wonder Talon had submitted to his dame’s command.

I wish you well, Dame March. Would you do me the honor of sharpening my blade before I leave?

Grit drew her dagger and offered the black, leather-wrapped hilt to Dame March. It was a simple weapon, but it had served Grit well since Dame Berth gave it to her on her Twelfth Branding. Dame March smiled as she ran her sharpening stone along the blade.

Berth was always so proud of this weapon. It was her dame’s before it was hers, you know, and her dame’s dame’s before that. You wouldn’t know to look at it, but it’s a fine piece of craftsmanship, just like the women who’ve carried it. Dame March gave the blade a final polish and passed the dagger to Grit. It suits you well, Grit of Berth and Stone. It suits you very well indeed.

Two

Asubdued knock broke the early morning silence of Grit’s hut. Seal and Oath slumbered on, one on either side of Grit. She crawled out from under the quilt and over Seal, careful not to wake the girls. This was no hour for visitation. Drawing her dagger, Grit crossed the hut and eased the door open a crack.

Coil stood in the darkness, his cloak wrapped around his body. Get your boots on and come with me.

What’s so important it can’t wait until dawn? Grit whispered.

Do you have anything better to do? Coil asked.

Most people would consider sleep preferable to traipsing about in the dark. It wasn’t as if that elusive state would descend upon her now, though. She put on her boots, grabbed her cloak, and locked the door behind her.

She followed Coil around the hut, through the back garden, across the fields, and down the wooded path to the Western Sea. Midway between the forest’s edge and the water, Coil stopped.

Grit hugged her chest. Why have you brought me here? And at this hour?

It’s too cold to swim, but I wanted to share the Western Sea with you once more before you go. He scanned the horizon, then turned to Grit. You’ll take the straightest route to Castle Concord, won’t you?

We’ve been over this a thousand times. We’ll stop in Koradin for provisions. The warriors from Castle Concord who remained to rebuild Koradin will be a welcome addition to our party. From there, we’ll go through the Eastern Plains. I have a promise to keep. Grit felt for Arrow’s leather bracelet under the sleeve of her tunic. The warrior’s last request had been for her to deliver the symbol of Kinsmon’s promise to his child. She would be the worst sort of human being if she didn’t honor her dead friend’s wish.

Be watchful always. You know Havoc craves another opportunity to destroy you, Coil said.

Grit shuddered as memories of Havoc flooded her mind. Believe me, I’ll do all in my power to avoid encountering that hag again. Dagger’s scouts will alert me if she moves from Port Colony. I’ve no intention of running headlong into her clutches with half of Thresh behind me.

They stood shoulder to shoulder, gazing at the Western Sea in the grayness of predawn. They had spent so many hours together on this beach, in this water. How many times had Coil come to this place without her while she was away from Thresh? Beneath her cloak, Grit shivered.

Are you cold? Coil stretched an arm out as if to enfold her in his cloak.

Grit stepped beyond his reach. No, I was just thinking of the Southern Sea. It’s warmer there. I often thought… I mean, sometimes, when I swam there, in those gentle waters, I wondered…

What?

I wondered if you were swimming here, and if you swam alone or if you’d found someone else to keep you company. There her mouth went again, spouting things she hadn’t meant to speak. Grit bit her lip and focused on the sea. Maybe some questions were better left unasked.

When Coil did not respond, Grit dared to look at him. Lips pursed, he stared at her with an expression somewhere between bewilderment and amusement.

Grit of Berth and Stone, I have known you many years and heard many absurdities come from your mouth, but that one tops them all. His laughter gave way to gravity. Bitterness tinged his voice. If you will recall how I spent your time away, you will realize how ridiculous your suggestion is. Find someone else? Grit, I could hardly bear my own company. Oh, I swam. I swam as fast and hard and far as I could, but I never sought another’s company. Nor will I ever.

Under his intense gaze, Grit felt weak, guilty. She shouldn't have doubted him. Perhaps we should not think too much of former times.

Perhaps not. The bitterness gone, he slid his hand into hers. Could it be so easy to forget?

It seemed they were always parting. She didn’t want to leave him again, not now. Turf of Elna and Bord, his passage through the Northern Mountains cleared by melting snow, would soon advance upon Thresh. What might become of Coil in her absence when their old rival attacked? Could his mind, to say nothing of his body, survive another separation—another battle?

She pulled her hand away. I should go. We leave just after sunup. Send word as soon as Thresh is safe. We’ll return with all haste.

Wait. Coil took a silver flask from his pocket.

What is it? Grit opened it and peered inside. A faint, familiar sweetness awakened her senses.

Kinsmon’s recipe. It’s all I have left—at least until spring provides more berries, and I can brew another batch.

She capped the flask quickly, before the fragrance clouded her judgment, making her believe all was right with a world that was falling apart. The stuff could heal body and soul, but it couldn’t stop a war.

She pressed the flask into Coil’s hand. You’re a fool to give this away. Save it for your warriors. Or for yourself.

Coil drew back, shaking his head. Take it, Grit. It’s a dagger in my heart if you don’t.

The memory of his blood set her stomach on edge. That isn’t fair.

None of this is fair. He shuffled his feet on the round pebbles.

Grit slid the flask into her pocket. It seemed cruel to protest further, but she could at least make them even. She lifted her hair and removed a key on a leather cord from around her neck. Since we’re being unfair, are you strong enough to carry this?

Coil’s gaze followed the key as it swayed in the space between them. That’s Dame Berth’s key.

It’s mine, and I give it to you. It was supposed to be easier than this. He should have grabbed the key, laughing and assuring her he was strong enough to carry much more than a scrap of metal. She tried to sound lighthearted, like it was all a game, but he must have known how serious she was. I’ll never allow you to set foot in my hut if you don’t accept this key as a promise of my return.

He clasped the key in his fist, his jaw set in a determined line. Do not forget me, waiting here for you.

Her words came soft, as if they’d break if she spoke too loudly. I tried to forget you once, Coil. It was a battle I couldn't win. You needn't fear my heart will fail.

It is the only thing I’ve ever feared. Pain I can bear, and death would bring relief, but should your heart fail, should you forget what you have promised me, a million deaths couldn’t free me from my pain.

She moved away from him. Don’t do this to me, Coil. Do not speak like this. I’m not strong enough to bear your doubt. There’s no telling what I might do if you believe me feeble enough to forget you. I might decide to stay in Thresh.

Coil laughed softly. You underestimate yourself. You always have. Wild and impetuous, prone to thoughtless action, that’s what the council said of you. But they forgot how stubborn you are. Be stubborn for me. Let nothing deter you from your journey, nothing distract you from your duty, and nothing keep you from returning.

Do you trust me? She couldn’t leave without the answer.

He took a deep breath of the salt-laden air and let it out slowly. I have no choice but to trust you. It’s the only way we’ll get through this, isn’t it? I bet my life on you, Grit. Take the children of Thresh and go. I’ll keep the village until you return.

He didn’t follow when she left, but remained on the stony beach, staring westward as if mesmerized by the rolling waves.

An hour later, Grit stood with Seal and Oath at the head of the crowd gathered on the Koradin-Thresh Highway. Trova organized the children into lines, while Dame Dara directed the weak and elderly. Sire Stone arrived, with Slate close behind.

Stone bent to look each twin in the eye. Whatever happens in the months to come, know that you have brought honor to your dame and sire. Take care of one another, as you always have. He wrapped an extra blanket around each twin’s shoulders and turned to Grit, his fingers playing with the smooth white stone that hung from a leather cord around his neck. I thought long of what aid I might offer you.

Grit pressed the stone against his chest. Goodbyes were never easy, but she’d say what needed to be said. You’ve already given me more than I could have hoped to receive. From my birth, you’ve been a sire like no other. And you, Slate, take care. You fought well enough in Koradin, but I want you alive when this is over. Avoid foolish risks. You’ve an entire lifetime to make yourself a hero.

Slate raised an eyebrow, a half-smile on his angular face. Ah, but for all we know, I have mere minutes to prove myself a hero. One never knows how long a lifetime is.

Grit glanced west. What she wouldn’t give for one last glimpse of the golden curls she’d dreamt of to the Southern Sea and back. You had best hurry to Coil of Dara. If you would make yourself a hero, keep him from despair. Don’t let him think for a moment I won’t return. If ever Coil of Dara doubts me, assure him my word is as solid as the key he holds.

Slate squinted against the rising sun. And that will make me a hero? Keeping Coil from despair?

In my eyes, yes. If Slate had forgotten the horrors Coil inflicted on the villages of the Northern Forest after her banishment, she wouldn’t remind him. She interlaced her fingers and stooped to give Oath a boost onto Shriven. By the time she had finished situating the twins, Slate was halfway across the warrior training field.