Bri yearned to sit down as she kept on working with her pestle and mortar, grinding herbs with vigour. She had much to do this day. With winter setting in, so too would come an increasing chance of illness. This month promised to be a harsh one, and now, more than any other season, the people of Krylla would need a herbalist. Soon, Wyntrríl would be upon them, and the first of the blood-red holly berries would be the only splash of colour amongst a world of white. The preparations for the Wyn barn-dance would be in full swing, the entire village in attendance. Even the cantankerous mayor, who barely had a nice word for anyone the rest of the year, would take part, kicking up his heels alongside the rest of them.

  All the while she worked, Letitia, Bri’s mentor of seven years, kept throwing instructions at her as she hovered nearby; peering over Bri’s shoulder. ‘Chop those herbs finely. Finely, you hear?’

  ‘Yes, Letitia.’ As if I don’t know how to cut up a few herbs by now. Bri rolled her eyes.

  The door swung open as Gwendoline came breezing through it unannounced. ‘Morning, Bri!’ she said with a wide grin.

  Bri returned the smile.‘Greetings to you, too.’

  ‘It’s cold enough to freeze an elk’s—’

  ‘Gwen!’ Letitia chided.

  ‘Sorry, Letitia,’ Gwendoline replied unrepentantly. ‘Anyway I can’t stop for long, I promised ma I’d help her with the sewing, but I had to tell you, Bri.’

  ‘Bri’s working.’ Letitia said.

  ‘Aw, go on, you can spare five minutes.’ Gwendoline turned pleading eyes on her.

  Letitia sighed. ‘Five minutes. Young girls these days,always shirking their responsibilities,’ she grumbled as she made her way towards the storeroom.

  ‘Letitia, we’re twenty years of age!’ Gwendoline replied. ‘I hardly think we count as young girls anymore.’

  ‘Well, maybe you should start acting your age.’

  ‘Thank you, Letitia,’ Bri interrupted before turning to Gwendoline. ‘Gwen, what’s the news? I can see you’re bursting to tell me.’

  ‘Jonah asked if he could court me!’ She squealed. ‘And he’s taking me to the Wyn barn dance!’

  ‘The baker’s boy?’ Bri’s mentor said with interest. Even Letitia could not resist a snippet of juicy gossip.

  ‘What did you tell him?’ Bri grinned, already having guessed the answer to her question.

  ‘Yes, of course! Though, his mother can’t stand me.’ Gwendoline’s face fell slightly.

  ‘You’ll win her over,’ Bri said, ‘and if you don’t, well, it’s not his mother you’re courting, is it?’

  They giggled while Letitia tutted disapprovingly. ‘You need to learn some responsibility if you’re going to be a good wife.’

  ‘Oh, Letitia!’ Gwendoline scoffed. ‘And what about you, Bri? Have you been courting anyone without telling us?’

  Bri’s cheeks became warm. She looked down in a futile attempt to hide her blushes. ‘I’ve never even thought about it,’ she mumbled.

  ‘Of course you have!’ Gwendoline protested. ‘Go on, tell me!’

  ‘There’s no one.’

  ‘You’ll find someone,’ Gwendoline replied, ‘and if you don’t, we’ll have to find one for you!’

  ‘Gwen!’

  ‘Bri, just you wait; the right man will come along.’

  ‘I might decide never to marry at all.’

  Even Letitia laughed at this as she poked her head round the door of the storeroom. ‘Oh you’ll marry soon enough, I’m sure of it. Then I’ll doubtless need to search for a new apprentice.’

  ‘Never,’ Bri shook her head vehemently, ‘I will never marry. And before you ask why, I have my reasons.’

  In her mind’s eye she pictured herself kneeling in the snow, weeping for her own son or daughter who could be snatched away from her at any moment. She would never let that happen.

  Tannen’s cry interrupted their conversation. ‘The collector is coming! The collector is coming!’

  Bri gritted her teeth, slowly walking to the window.

  Shortly thereafter a man, dressed all in black, entered the village at speed, an entourage of soldiers in chainmail following behind. Ixion — the very same man who had stolen her sister away. Her heartbeat quickened and she clenched her fists, her nails digging into her own flesh. Bri barely felt the pain as she tried to calm herself. It took every effort not to launch herself at the man and knock him off his horse.

  The gold trimmed cloak the collector wore, emblazoned with the insignia of the King himself, fluttered behind him, billowing in the wind. Dismounting, their loud and commanding voices carried through the small hamlet. ‘Lord Ixion of Krym hereby commands that all villages should honour the King by producing the full amount of three silvers.’

  All round, the villagers hurried to gather up what little coin they had, hoping they would satisfy the King’s seemingly limitless desire for money.

  ‘You have enough coin?’ Bri murmured to Gwendoline, her voice barely above a whisper.

  ‘For now. Until they raise the taxes again.’

  Bri moved away from the window and pulled her friend closer in an attempt to reassure her. ‘Everything will be fine, Gwen.’

  ‘Humph. Nothing will ever be fine until the soldiers are gone.’

  To that, Bri had no response. She couldn’t help but agree, and knew for certain that others thought along the same lines. But what could they do? ‘You’d best get home quickly; you don’t want to leave your ma to deal with the soldiers on her own.’

  ‘You’re right. She's a bundle of nerves around them, and I don’t blame her.’Gwendoline wrinkled her nose in distaste. ‘I could spit in the collector’s eye, Bri, I really could.’

  ‘Don’t talk like that!’ Letitia said sharply, poking her head back around the door of the storeroom.

  ‘They won’t be able to hear me in here,’ Gwendoline scoffed, ‘but Bri’s right, I’d best go.’

  In an abrupt gesture of affection, she pulled Bri to her in a tight embrace. ‘T?ndír be with you, always.’

  ‘And with you,’ Bri replied by force of habit. Not that she believed in the gods. They hadn’t been of much assistance, leastways not for as long as she could remember.

  ‘Farewell Bri. Letitia!’ Gwen smiled at each in turn before closing the back door behind her softly.

  ‘Farewell, Gwen!’ Bri replied.

  ‘That girl is a bad influence,’ Letitia muttered, once Gwendoline had left.

  ‘Gwendoline has a good heart. She’d do anything for anyone, you know that.’

  ‘Hmm. Nevertheless, you’d be better off with some more sensible friends.’

  Bri opened her mouth to argue, but could say nothing further as a firm rap on the front door signalled what they feared.

  ‘Say nothing,’ Letitia warned.

  She opened the door, giving the soldiers a courteous nod.‘Goodmen.’

  Bri stayed silent, not daring to open her mouth to speak. Besides, they didn’t deserve the courtesy of a greeting. They didn’t deserve anything, except perhaps a taste of their own medicine. She felt a surge of burning anger as the memories of years past rushed to her. Of Irys’ cries and her mother’s hysterical sobs, so vivid that it could have been yesterday.

  The pair stepped inside, their eyes peering at their surroundings. One ran his finger along the edge of the table that sat in the centre of the room. ‘The place is looking dusty, Letitia,’ he sneered.

  Bri straightened indignantly, for Letitia prided herself on keeping a neat workplace. Her mentor gave no emotion away.

  ‘Silvers, ladies,’ the other soldier said brusquely.

  Bri thrust the coins into his hand, trying to imitate Letitia’s blank expression, hoping the man couldn’t discern the disgust she felt for them. It took every ounce of effort in order for her to do so.

  After counting each coin slowly, he gave his companion a nod of affirmation. ‘Everything seems to be in order.’

  Making for the door, the elder of the two soldiers turned back towards them and said,‘oh, just before we leave, we need to alert you of treasonous language being spread through this village.’ His wrinkled face creased into an even more stern expression.

  ‘Treasonous?’ Letitia echoed. ‘I assure you, my apprentice and myself have nothing but respect for our King,’ she said smoothly.

  ‘I wish I could say the same for others. Do let us know if you hear of any… dissent. It will be a harsh punishment indeed for anyone who would sully the name of the King.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Turning on his heel slowly, he ordered his subordinate, ‘come, I wish to be gone from this place.’ He slammed the door behind him.

  As Bri went to speak, to let loose a barrage of insults towards the soldiers, Letitia pressed a finger against her lips, stopping her. She stood rigid, tense. Giving Bri a look more fierce than any soldier’s she mouthed,‘Wait!’ Letitia cocked an ear to the side, listening intently for the sound of the soldiers' footsteps moving further and further away.

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  ‘Those vermin!’ Bri said, full of fury. ‘Why? Why must they be like this?’

  ‘It’s a great mystery. Why is there such cruelty in the world? Why do people behave as they do? It’s for the gods to know, not us. We have no power to change anything, and all we can do is accept this.’ Letitia replied.

  ‘How are you so calm?’

  ‘Because I have to be. Do you not think I feel anger or despair? I don’t show it, because I would prefer my head to stay attached to my neck. You would be wise to control your emotions, too.’

  Bri sighed. ‘You’re right, of course. But it isn’t easy.’

  ‘I never said it was. Now come, the day’s still early, and there’s more to do yet.’

  Later that evening, Gyron entered, supporting Jonah, whose face contorted with pain. A sharp gust of wind blew the door shut behind them.

  ‘Got a nasty burn with this one,’ the baker grunted, as Bri rushed to help him seat the boy on a chair. Jonah had turned as pale as a sheet, nearly swooning from the pain of his injury. But to his credit, he did not faint.

  ‘Greetings,’ he said weakly. Jonah swallowed hard, as though trying not to vomit. He still wore his slightly singed apron, the bottom of it blackened.

  ‘What in T?ndir’s name happened?’ Bri exclaimed.

  ‘Idiots and open flames don’t mix,’ he replied, shaking his head in exasperation.

  ‘He was probably daydreaming about Gwen,’ Bri quipped.

  ‘He’s hopeless, Bri ! Hopeless!’

  Bri grimaced sympathetically. She’d known the baker and his overeager apprentice for years. Despite Gyron’s gruff exterior, she knew he cared deeply for Jonah.

  Jonah’s mouth dropped open. ‘How did you know about Gwen?’

  ‘It’s a small village.’ Bri grinned.

  Gyron tutted. ‘Alright, you two. That’s enough gossip. Bri, don’t you have a job to do?’ He cast a pointed look in her direction.

  Her smile swiftly disappeared and her head hung under Gyron’s chastisement. ‘I’ll just get the lavender oil. It should help with the pain.’

  She hurried away to the storeroom and began rummaging for the glass container of lavender oil. ‘Rosemary, dock leaf, thyme… Oh come on, where are you?’ As Bri searched, Jonah continued to groan in pain.

  ‘Any trouble with the soldiers today?’ Gyron inquired of Letitia.

  ‘Nothing we’re not used to. It went as smoothly as could be hoped for. And with you?’

  ‘You were lucky. They nearly broke down my door with their knocking. Well, I couldn’t answer straight away. I was baking, how could I just stop what I was doing? It’s the week before Wynterríl! But they wouldn’t consider that, would they?’

  Bri paused in her search, listening intently. She felt something akin to that of rage at Gyron’s experience. In her anger, she nearly swept some of the containers to the ground. She gritted her teeth and took a deep breath, forcing herself to continue with the task at hand. Finally. Her hand clasped around the elusive container of lavender oil and she closed her eyes tightly in relief.

  ‘There’s talk of rebellion,’ Gyron said, a hint of excitement creeping into his tone. ‘People are as angry as I am, and they’re right to be.’

  ‘Then they’re fools,’ Letitia snapped. ‘If they want to be angry, fine, but rebellion will just get them killed.’

  Rebellion. Could it really be possible? Bri loosened her grip on the container, slowly edging closer to the storeroom door.

  ‘Would it be such a bad thing though?’ Gyron insisted, ‘haven’t you ever wanted to make them pay for what they’ve done?’

  ‘Maybe,’ Letitia admitted, ‘but it isn’t worth the risk. All this rebellion nonsense will die down after a while.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be so sure. I warn you, things are changing in the village. And when it all comes to a head, you'll need to think long and hard about whose side you're on.’ Gyron turned his head and shot Jonah a sharp look. ‘And don’t be overdramatic, Jonah! I’ve seen far worse injuries than that.’

  ‘It hurts!’ Jonah insisted.

  ‘Of course it hurts. It’s a burn, what did you expect? Bri’ll fix you right up, won’t you, Bri?’ Gyron called.

  ‘Of course, there’s no need to worry.’ Bri said as she hurried back, bandages draped on one arm. She set to work on Jonah’s wound whilst she continued to listen to the ongoing debate.

  ‘Here you go, Jonah, you’ll be fixed up in no-time,’ Bri said quietly.

  Gyron shot her a grateful look before turning his attention back to Letitia. So you’ll just carry on, year after year as they keep taking every hard-earned coin, every child, til there’s none left, and you’ll keep acting like this is normal. Don’t you remember what it was like before? With the old King?’

  ‘Yes I do,’ Letitia snapped. ‘I’m not senile yet! You were only a boy at the time, and those were better days. But that was then. This is now, and you can’t fight the soldiers. Gyron, they have swords.’

  Letitia’s right, Bri thought. Rebellion is a fool’s dream. They’ll be sending themselves to an early grave.

  ‘We have a blacksmith,’ Gyron countered, ‘he can make us weapons.’

  ‘And what would the point be in that? None of you know how to fight anyway!’

  ‘Then we’ll learn!’

  ‘Then you’ll all die!’ Letitia replied. ‘You’ll just be one of many bodies hanging from a tree.’

  She turned to Bri, and in a carefully controlled voice, she said, ‘If you’re done there, go make yourself useful. Get that comfrey into a poultice.’

  ‘Yes, Letitia.’

  Bri immediately moved to obey her orders. She knew Letitia well enough not to make her repeat them a second time. Her scowl would be enough to cause the King to cower in his throne room.

  Just as she went to grab her knife, the baker's boy raised his good hand.

  ‘Is my hand supposed to feel numb?’

  Letitia took one look at the bandage Bri had applied and pulled her aside. ‘Girl, what’s wrong with you?’ she hissed, ‘that bandage is far too tight! You aren’t paying attention, and you know we can’t afford to be making mistakes like that.’

  ‘I’m sorry! I just wasn’t thinking straight.’

  ‘Which isn’t any good when you have a job to do!’

  ‘Letitia…’

  ‘Don’t give me any of your excuses. Redo his bandages.’ Letitia snapped. ‘Do that and go on home. I don’t want you making any more mistakes. Besides, it’ll be dark soon.’

  After diligently following her instructions, Bri forlornly set off for home. Stepping outside, the howling winter gales pressed against her, nearly knocking her off her feet. She pulled her cloak tightly in a feeble attempt to keep them at bay. Apart from the occasional guffaw of drunken laughter coming from a public house, few sounds met her ears. She walked onwards, shoulders hunched against the weather. Her hands felt like blocks of eyes and her reddened cheeks began to sting. Despite this, she felt a sense of liberation. Out in the open air she could finally catch a moment to breathe, to be alone with her thoughts. Gyron’s speech about rebellion had sent Bri’s mind into a whirlwind. She couldn’t deny that it had crossed her mind several times in years past. Her people, rising up against the King and his men. Toppling him from his throne. If only Krylla were strong enough to do so. Even if a rebellion could succeed, there would still be deaths. She could picture it now—her village, burnt to the ground, nothing left but soot, ashes and the smell of already decaying bodies. Homes destroyed. Orphaned children. Bri shuddered at the thought.

  Darkness had drawn in quickly, just as Letitia predicted. The biting wind worsened, causing the bare trees and leafless bushes to sway violently. Bri shivered and rubbed her hands together in an attempt to warm them. She quickened her pace. The stars hid themselves from view, the darkness so intense that it blotted them out, as though they never existed in the first place. The only light came from the gentle flickers of candles placed in the villager’s windows.

  From the corner of her eye, she noticed a barely perceptible movement amongst the shadows. A hint of a smile began to twitch in the corner of her mouth.

  ‘Have you been stealing again, Jack? They’re going to catch you one of these days.’

  The young, lean boy jumped down from a wattle wall in one fluid motion.

  ‘Got to make a living somehow, Bri!’ His face bore an impish grin, mischief twinkling in his dark eyes.

  ‘But from the soldiers?’ she said under her breath. ‘That’s a dangerous game to play. Especially when they’re here to collect taxes.’

  ‘They’ve never caught me yet. Speaking of taxes… can you spare a copper?’

  Bri rolled her eyes. ‘You never change,’ she said, tossing him a coin, which he caught with one hand. ‘If they catch you…’

  Jack’s expression turned grim. ‘It’s my way of getting even.’

  ‘It’s a stupid way of getting even.’

  ‘Is there any other way? Look, things are changing. People have had enough, they’re getting braver. I heard there was a rebellion in Eryth.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘What happened? Did they succeed?’

  Jack shook his head in sadness. ‘But one day the rebellion’s going to be here, I’m sure of it.’

  Bri sighed. ‘I can’t see it, Jack. I wish you were right, but I don’t see anything changing, unless it becomes more dangerous.’

  ‘You’ll see,’ Jack replied confidently. The winds picked up once more. He fought to make himself heard over them. ‘We’d better head for shelter, it’s a nasty storm out here! See you around, Bri.’

  ‘I hope so,’ Bri replied under her breath, shivering as she continued on her way.

  The sound of a mangle squeaking greeted her home.

  Squeaking sounds halted abruptly as her mother sighted her, almost running in an eagerness to greet her. almost ran towards her. ‘Are you alright? The soldiers…’

  ‘We had no trouble, but the way they spoke to Letitia…’ She ground her teeth. ‘They were terrible to Gyron.’

  The words got the attention of her father, whose head snapped up from cleaning animal hides. ‘The baker?’

  ‘Who else?’

  ‘You’d better tell us what happened.’

  Bri recounted the events of the day with bitterness.

  ‘The soldiers burst into the shop like they owned the place. They insulted Letitia! I was hard-pressed not to say anything to them.’

  ‘I’m glad you didn’t,’ her father rumbled, ‘you know well what happens to those who cross the King’s soldiers.’

  ‘Don’t I just,’ Bri muttered. ‘Then Gyron and Jonah came in.’

  This got a smile from her mother. ‘Oh yes, I heard about Jonah and Gwen, they’re a good match. Speaking of good matches…’

  ‘Oh, Mother! Don’t start, I get enough of that from Letitia. Get it into your heads, I will never marry.’

  ‘Don’t be rude to your mother,’ her father interjected.

  ‘Sorry Mother,’ Bri sighed.

  Ever the peace-maker, her mother continued to question her. ‘Is Gyron alright? Why did he come to the apothecary?’

  ‘It was about Jonah, he burnt his hand.’

  ‘Poor boy, was there anything you could do?’

  ‘Nothing that couldn’t be fixed,’ Bri said. ‘But when the soldiers came to Gyron’s, they nearly broke down his door! Those raekin —’

  ‘Language!’ Bri’s mother interrupted.

  ‘Yes, mother, I’m sorry.’

  ‘What matters is that they’re alright,’ her father interjected, ‘and lower your voice. You know well what happens to those who speak of treason.’

  ‘Who’s going to tell anyone? You?’

  ‘Bri!’ he thundered. ‘That’s enough. We already lost one daughter. We are not ready to lose another. Think on that.’

  Bri daren’t speak of Gyron’s idea of rebellion. Her mother would fret and her father would order her to stay as far away from the baker as possible. Krylla itself seemed to be…unsettled. She felt as though everyone held their breath, waiting for something.

  Bri found it hard to sleep that night, so slipping into her cloak, she went to the window. She stared out of it, and, not for the first time, she wondered at what lay beyond the mountains and forests of Krys. Though far from an adventurer, she longed to be somewhere else, anywhere, a long way away from the soldiers’ reach.