The Queen of the Aerie – Part 1: The Terms of the Peak

The stair was cut into the cliff, ten thousand steps, and at the top of it, in a pool of white cloud, the citadel of the Aerie hung between two peaks like a nest of stone.

Kael climbed the last flight with his pack on his back and his breath short in the thin air. He was forty, a mountain guide, tall and weathered, who had spent half his life taking travellers over passes and the other half wishing someone would carry him. He had heard of the Queen of the Aerie in a hundred tavern tales. He had never believed any of them. Now the great doors stood open, and a line of silent attendants in grey wool waited to receive him.

The throne room was a long hall of white stone with windows open to the sky. At the far end, on a high seat of carved black granite, sat the Queen.

Ysolde was forty-eight, tall and powerfully built, with a long white-streaked braid, a face like a hawk's and eyes the colour of glacier ice. She wore a plain grey gown and a heavy cloak of feathers, brown and gold, clasped at the throat with a silver pin. A narrow crown of silver wire sat on her brow. She had ruled the mountain kingdom for twenty-five years and had never, anyone said, been surprised.

"Guide Kael," she said, in a low, even, carrying voice. "You are expected."

"Majesty." He bowed. "I did not know I was."

"The eagles told me." She did not smile. "Come forward."

He walked the length of the hall. The wind sang in the high windows. He stopped before the dais and, after a moment's hesitation, knelt on the cold stone.

"Rise," said the Queen. "I do not take a man's knee unless he gives it freely."

He rose. She studied him for a long time.

"You have guided travellers over the Karrow Pass for fifteen years," she said. "You have never lost one."

"Not yet, Majesty."

"You are tired."

He started. "How...?"

"I know the look of a man who carries others and has no one to carry him." She rose and came down the steps, her cloak whispering. "I will make you an offer, Guide. You may refuse it. In my kingdom, no bond is made unless it is freely given, and both parties know exactly what it is."

"Majesty?"

"A bond of service. You would remain in my citadel for one night, as my servant. You would kneel when I tell you. You would be silent when I tell you. You would be corrected, by my voice and hand, as a servant is who has not yet learned the discipline of the court. I would not harm you. I would not shame you beyond what we agree. I would not keep you from the stair. And there is a word."

"A word."

"Descent. Say it, at any moment, and it ends. You will be escorted to the foot of the mountain, unharmed, with a pack of bread and a warm cloak, and I will not ask you why."

He stood in the howling quiet of the high hall and thought of the passes and the weather and the long cold trek of a life spent leading.

"Majesty," said Kael, slowly, "I think I would like very much to be led."

"Then say the oath."

He knelt, willingly this time, on the stone. "I, Kael, freely and with my own will, place myself in the service of Queen Ysolde. I accept her terms. I may end it by one word."

"And I, Ysolde, accept your service, and swear to keep you safe. The word is Descent."

"The word is Descent."

She laid two cool fingers beneath his chin and tilted his face up.

"Are you content, Kael?"

"Content, Majesty."

"Good," said the Queen of the Aerie. "Then we begin."

Continue the story: Part 2 – Descent.