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The Distance Colonies are where King Rushing allows his retired warriors to go. They are provided by the king with technology and schools for all kinds of advanced studies. If you make it to the Distance Colonies, it means you have served your time in the king's army adequately. Some people, like Vegas, are born and raised there. They have the option to go to warrior school if they want. Now you should understand the dynamics of the five territories surrounding the mountains outside Oceanside City, where the king resides: My territory and kingdom, the Marshlands, and the other territories and kingdoms etched in history alongside us: the Wolflands of the mountain prairies, Fairylands of the mountain forests, and Summits in the highest peaks. Then the Distance Colonies closest to the City.
My mother's younger sister and the mother of Kimberly, Aunt Genevieve, joins us halfway to my brother's village. Unlike most of the women, Genevieve raised her daughter because her husband wasn't fortunate enough to reach the Distance Colonies; he never made it back from war.
"Jenna, the king is not going to fix the water," my mother explains. "To fix it would mean he has to stop his production of new war technology completely. He is able to provide the Distance Colonies with a clean supply of water, but they do not depend on the water as extensively as we do."
"I am not surprised," I muse. "But where does that leave us?"
"With no choice but to fight for our freedom," my grandmother concludes, like it is an everyday and simple decision.
Respectfully, I point out, "Fight for our freedom? You said yourself the king is developing new war technology. We do not stand a chance."
"Actually," Vegas interrupts, "if we work from the inside, we do. Prince Cole and Prince Orson are joining our plight. In fact, they are the founders of it."
"But...why would they betray their father?"
Vegas scoffs. "There is more to it than you know, Princess. We have all lost more than you think, including them."
"And how can we trust where your loyalties lie?"
"Jenna," chides Aunt Genevieve.
My mother studies me, takes me in as I am a different person and not the one she gave birth to.
But it is my grandmother who remarks, "She is asking the questions of a Queen, Genevieve." She nods for me to continue.
I turn back to Vegas. "So how do we know?" I question again.
"Fair question. I have lost much to the king, even being born and raised in the Distance Colonies. Cole and Orson were raised as brothers to me. I will not betray them."
As a warrior, you must learn the art of reading people. As a Queen, you must perfect such an art. And I have quickly learned that this young man's face reveals everything about him: he is sincere as he tells me this.
"But, Mother, what about the other kingdoms?"
"We will recruit them too," Vegas answers.
"How so? What motive do they have to go against the king? Are the princes going to make them do it? Surely, that is not a good idea, because then the princes' treason will be revealed."
My mother leaves the conversation to me while she discusses things between her sister, mother, and niece.
"No, we will convince the other kingdoms to join us on their own. The Fiyori of the Fairylands will be easy because Lord Alden already holds animosity toward the king regarding the charter of his eldest son, Armott. Not to mention, the king has recently agreed to end early the charters of Lord Walter's sons of the Wolflands, but will not agree to end Armott's early. For this exchange, Walter has agreed that his youngest daughter will be betrothed to the king's youngest son, Frankfort, since they are about the same age. Walter's wife, Lady Mariah, is known for her beauty, and thus her daughters are known for the same; she herself is three-quarters Fiyori and was raised among the Fiyori. It is the king's honor to have one of her daughters potentially marry his son. Cole suggested that Walter take the deal in preparation for the freedom plight. All that I will explain in more detail later. "
"So what is our next step?"
"Invade the Fiyori and ask for their help. We do not have must longer in this land," my mother rejoins the conversation and indicates the white foam caked on the banks of the river next to Flushing village, where my older brother, Wren, has lived his entire life.
"How...how much time do you think we have left?"
My mother shrugs. "Maybe a few months at the most, Jenna."
When we enter my brother's village, his father and second-in-command of this village, Neal, greets us.
"How is he?" asks my grandmother tautly.
"He is doing well. Winona, please come to the infirmary to rest," Neal urges. He nods a greeting to the rest of us. "Jenna, Kimberly, growing to be just as beautiful as your mothers."
Kimberly blushes, as always, but I ignore him and jump off Ripple to race into the infirmary. I have not grown up around Wren extensively. As children, when our mother brought us together, though, it was always as if we were never apart. My brother's skin, usually a deep olive brown like mine, is pasty and pale. His glossy black curls are fluffy and mangled. Whatever this pollution is, I doubt we have barely a month to do something. My brother's jackdaw, Nova, watches perched on a shelf overhead as I lean next to my brother.
"Wren, how are you?"
He struggles to sit up. "Doing well, Jenna. Nova has been watching over me pretty well."
A nurse coughs as she sets a teacup on the table beside him. Her stunning grey eyes are amused and offended at the same time. She is young, and I can tell she has a heart for my brother.
"Meet Alma. She is the apprentice to my nurse."
"Nice to meet you and thank you for watching over him."
She shakes my hand shyly and blinks several times. With her pale skin and long auburn red hair, I assume she has Summit in her blood, or perhaps she has relatives from Oceanside City; city residents have blood from all over the world, places we have never seen from within our secluded lifestyle. Sometimes, warriors will bring back their loves from the city when they return home; not all retired warriors choose to go to the Distance Colonies.
My brother must be able to read my mind because he replies, "Her mother was an entrepreneur in the city when she met Ian, one of our warriors that returned last year."
"Ah, I see the resemblance to Ian," my mother puts a hand on my brother's shoulder. "But you have your mother's eyes. As my daughter has said, thank you for helping to look after Wren."
She bows her head.
"She will make a good healer, Mother," Wren replies as Alma departs. "She really was not cut out to be a warrior."
The king allows young women to choose what they wish to be and what they wish to study, but it must be within the confines of the education he provides for us. However, young men do not have a choice except to train as warriors. The king controls education because knowledge is power. We do not have much technology here; we have never needed it nor wanted it. However, I have heard the elders gossiping that our hesitance toward technology may be our biggest mistake. I am starting to see that now.
"Jenna, would you mind accompanying Kimberly to see the full extent of the pollution?" my mother commands. "Neal has already sent other warriors ahead of you."
My grandmother settles in a chair provided by Neal. Vegas settles across from her. I imagine they are going to be discussing plans and informing Neal and Wren.
"This is Vegas..." my other begins, but Kimberly and I leave before we can rehear the story.
"And be careful!" Aunt Genevieve calls after us.
We promise her we will.
Kimberly and I break through the swamp roots guarded in our own thoughts, the water sucking at our rubber boots. My red tank top does little to protect my arms from the vines and the brushing of low growing leaves against my olive skin--turned a deeper tan by the warming sun. But it does not matter. The plants are as familiar to me as my own fingerprint. I know each and every curve, every pool of water, every bayou.
This is where I was born. Where my life will end. Where I trained as a warrior. Where I became a warrior. Where I will reign as Queen.
To be a warrior among the Marshlanders, you must be bold. You must master the landscape and every poisonous plant there is. Every poison there is. We are exposed to them from a young age in order to develop an immunity. Toddlerhood. Much like koalas and eucalyptus. It is slowly cooked into the food that we eat. Much of it is edible in low doses. We are given immediate medical care for the ones that cause serious issues. Nevertheless, we are still exposed to them over and over until we gain immunity.
I stare through the tree branches and vines to the familiar canopy.
To become a Marshland warrior, you must master weapons. Darts. Spears. Arrows. Crossbows. Swords. Dipped in poison. To become a Marshland queen, you must have survived a war, perhaps evem wounded and killed. I have done such things. This is the only life we have known.
I look at the froth on the water's edge. Suddenly, Kimberly presses her finger against my palm. Asking for comfort as well as giving it.
"What do you think?"
I shrug, suddenly tired. "Hopeless, Kimber."
"Well, that is our report. I think we all agree." She looks across the water at some of the other warriors as they pass.
"Let's go then."
At first we travel in silence, the only sound being the horses' hooves as they travel/splash through the water and the endless caws of crows and other birds as they communicate the happenings of the forest.
"I think your brother likes that girl," Kimberly muses.
I laugh.
"Do you think it will be an acceptable match, seeing as they are from the same village."
"I think it will be tolerable. We know that Ian is not related to us, and her mother comes from the city."
"Good point..."
"Did you ever picture Wren with anyone?" I continue, glad for the distraction. My brother is always so quiet, reserved, plus he has a silver birthmark over his left eye like a scar that will never go away. A lot of the time he wears paint to cover it up, so often, it is forgotten. I have never considered it atrocious, though; if anything, it makes him appear tougher. Nevertheless, he is quite socially awkward, quirky once you get to know him.
Kimberly laughs so hard that two black birds settle on a branch to survey her, more than likely the raves of some of the warriors we are on patrol with. Avi and Sundance assure them that we are okay with a couple of quick "caws", and they report back to their warriors.
"Not in a million years," she replies, and we both laugh a little harder.
"But I think she is good for him," I conclude.
Kimberly nods. "I agree. Alma seems sincere. Wren needs that...we all need that."
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