Heather poked her head into the doorway, holding a mixing bowl and stirring something. “Ah cuid hear ye talking. Who were ye talking tae, vicar? You’re a' alone in 'ere.”
Martin looked away from where Deacon Bowie had been sitting to stare at Heather. “God, I think. I was speaking to God.”
Heather stirred the bowl and blew a strand of hair from her face. “Weel, if you’re dane, come gimme a haun wi' this bread. A strong man lik' ye kin mak' quick wirk kneading th' dough wance this yeast is duin. Come alang. Up aff yer bahookie 'n' git tae wirk.”
Heather disappeared back into the kitchen. Martin sat a moment and thought of what Deacon Bowie had told him. He would warn Heather and James. He placed the amulet over his head and tucked it into his shirt. For now I just want to savour this moment. Oh, my God, God spoke to me.
Martin explained to James and Heather what had happened. They looked at him at first like he might be losing his mind. At least Martin thought they might be looking at him that way. He found it hard to admit to himself that he had been visited by God and speaking it out loud seemed to make it sound crazy, even to his ears. James seemed more inclined to believe him, but he said no one had walked past him to enter the church.
“How dae we ken it wasn't that bastard Erebus messing wi' ye?” asked Heather. She punched the bread dough down in her bowl to force the air out. Her hair was coming loose, and it kept getting in her eyes. She kept blowing it away or trying to lock it behind an ear. Flour and dough were caught in the hair over her ears.
“A fair question,” said James.
Martin was growing annoyed. They had been arguing in circles and getting nowhere. He had asked himself the same thing. But I know, don’t I? I know that was God. He answered my prayer. “It was God. Please believe me, my friends.”
Heather blew a strand of hair away and then tucked more hair behind an ear. James made a noise and then moved behind Heather. “Here, let me fix your hair.” He reached up and pulled her black hair-ribbon free. Heather froze, and a look of horror crossed her face.
James put the ribbon in his teeth and pulled her hair back with both hands into a long tail. He held it with one hand and then with the other hand took the ribbon and in moments tied it into a bow. He let go of the tail and dropped it onto her back. Martin watched him move back to the table and saw that Heather was still frozen in place.
She spun toward him and pointed a shaking finger covered in dough at him. “Dinnae ye ever touch me! A’m married, ye soft git. Only mah husband is allowed tae touch me. Such cheek!”
Steve now looked horrified. “What in the blazes are you shouting at? I fixed your bloody hair. How about a thank you, instead? Would it hurt you?”
Heather screeched, and her hands curled into claws. Martin stepped between them. “By God! Enough! Enough! Stop your bickering! Both of you.”
James shot Martin a look of betrayal and stalked out of the kitchen. In moments the door of the church banged shut. Martin sighed.
Heather turned away and hung her head. She stayed still until Martin noticed her shoulders shaking.
“Are you crying, Heather?”
“No!” replied Heather with a sob.
Martin took her shoulders and spun her around. “What’s the matter?”
“A dinnae ken. How come am greetin’?” Heather buried her face in Martin’s shoulder and cried for a spell.
“Why are you always after James like that? He does nothing wrong.”
“Ah hae na idea. Tis nae him. A'm juist sae crabbit.”
Martin sighed and pulled Heather into the office and sat her on the bench underneath the window. “Sit. Listen. There’s been a lot of change. And a lot of strange and wonderful things going on. And now, no sooner do things settle down than you are on the road heading to Munsten. That has to have you upset.”
Heather wiped snot from her nose and pulled a hankie from where it was tucked in the sleeve at her left wrist. She wiped her nose and blew into it. “Ah miss th' farm. Ah miss mah wee weans 'n' husband. Weel, maybe naw that much. Ha ha!” Heather sniffed loud and tucked the handkerchief back in her sleeve. “I’m fair done with that James Dixon trying tae tak' charge all th' time! Lik' he doubts a mere woman is up tae th' hing.”
“Ah, I see,” said Martin. “You know he isn’t. You just keep expecting him to. He is military. He was taught to lead. It’s as natural to him as breathing. He doesn’t doubt your abilities. He has only one role to play, and he means to do it.”
Heather opened her mouth to say something and then shut it. “Ah, haud yer weesht!”
Martin laughed and rose. “I’ll leave you be. I’ll knead the dough and get it ready to bake.”
Heather pulled out her hankie and gave her nose a wipe. She nodded.
* * *
Wake up, Martin.
Martin opened his eyes and struggled to figure out what had wakened him. A voice? He fought the desire to close his eyes and go back to sleep. He was laying on his back in the bedroom of the church. James slept next to him and Heather was asleep close to the door, snoring loudly. They lay on their bed rolls wrapped in thick wool blankets. What woke me?
The moonlight from the last quarter moon poured through the window and lit the room in its soft glow. Martin blinked against the sleep and glanced over to the door. Deacon Bowie stood there with a finger against his lips, urging silence. Martin woke up all the way and struggled up on to his elbows. His breath fogged thick in the freezing air.
Martin looked beside him at James and when he glanced back to the door, Deacon Bowie was gone. Martin hesitated a moment and then reached over and shook James. James opened his eyes immediately and looked hard at Martin.
“What is it?” whispered James.
“Nothing,” replied Martin, whispering back. “Perhaps. We need to check the church.”
“Whatever for?”
“Deacon Bowie just woke me.”
“Your ghost friend?”
Martin hesitated then nodded.
James sat up and picked up his sword. Martin eyed the sword and looked meaningfully at James. James smiled wryly and stood up. Martin sat up and stared toward the door. A floor board outside the door creaked and James moved quickly and silently to the side of the door. He motioned for Martin to stay where he was.
The door pushed open a crack and paused. Then it opened further, and James remained behind it. The face of a man appeared in the opening and looked in and spied Martin sitting up looking back at him. The man pushed the door open, hiding James behind it in the corner, and Martin could see the long knife in his hand. Beyond the man stood another, eyes bright in the moonlight. The first man stepped inside the room.
James cried out and slammed the door closed and drove his sword point into the man’s back. The man screamed in pain and arched backwards. He flung his knife up and let go of it. Martin watched the blade spin through the air to land in the corner of the room with a clatter. The man collapsed straight down to the floor reaching behind his back.
The door was kicked open catching James and pushing him off balance. A knife glinted in the light for just a moment and then James cried out and twisted in pain. Martin heard a wet sucking sound as the knife was pulled out of James. James swung his sword wildly, but the second man parried it expertly. There followed a quick series of ringing blows of steel on steel. Martin couldn’t follow what was happening. Small cries of pain from both James and the man marked the successful landing of a blow. James seemed to falter and was slow raising his sword. A look of triumph crossed the face of his opponent and he moved to deal a killing blow.
The man froze mid-strike and James drove his sword into the man’s neck. He pulled the sword free and the man just stood there, his blood pumping in angry streams from his severed artery. Then the man suddenly could move and dropped his knife. He started to raise his arms to his throat when he ran out of time. The man collapsed silently to the floor.
A great shuddering sob exploded out of Heather. Martin looked ove
r to her. She was sitting up staring at the body of the man who had just been killed. She had her hands clapped over her mouth and her breathing heaved in and out. Her eyes were wide open, and tears streamed down her face. She was shaking her head in denial.
Martin moved over to her and wrapped her in his arms. “Heather, quick. Are there any more? More men?”
Heather seemed not to hear.
“Heather! Quick!” yelled Martin. “Are there more?”
Heather stilled for a moment and then shook her head. “Nae more. There’s nae more… oh, dear Gaea, wut have I done?” Martin could see the panic in her eyes and the horror.
James groaned and collapsed to the floor, sliding down the wall. He touched his back and pulled it away, covered in blood. “I think…” James’ eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped sideways to the floor.
Heather cried out and pushed Martin away. She crawled on her hands and knees over to James. Martin heard her whimper. She slipped on the blood and cried out crossing the body of the first dead man on the floor. She made it to James and rolled him all the way over on to his front. She wrenched his shirt away from his back and Martin could see blood pumping weakly from the wound on his lower left side.
Heather went still. Martin recognised the sign of a draoi lost to their powers. The blood pumping from James stopped. Heather remained where she was, oblivious to the blood pooling under her. Martin stood up and looked around. He checked the two men and confirmed they were dead. He gave them each a prayer before rising on shaking legs. He cautiously left the bedroom and went out into the worship hall. The church door was wide open.
Martin looked outside to the walkway. He could see the footprints of the men in the freshly fallen snow. Moments before the two men had lived and made their impressions on the world. Now they were gone, and no one would ever care. He closed the door and shivered violently with the cold. He hurried to the kitchen and blew life back into the stove and fed it kindling wood until it blazed hot. He packed snow in a large kettle and put it on to boil. He pulled out the bucket and wash cloths they had found earlier and waited until the water heated. He stared at the blood on his hands and scrubbed at it. It wouldn’t come off.
He returned to the bedroom. Heather was still bent over James. Martin knew she would be there for a time. Blood had pooled under her, but she didn’t seem to notice or care. He threw on a warm outer jacket, and grunting with the effort, he pulled first one body, then the other out of the church, and out to the cemetery. He said a few words over the bodies and came back in out of the cold. Without Heather keeping him warm his bones grew chill. I didn’t realise she was doing so much.
When he came back to the room, with his hot bucket of water and rags, Heather was sitting cross-legged next to James, with her head bent. The blood that had been under her was now pushed away from her. Magic, thought Martin. Martin looked over her shoulder at James and he could see the wound was closed, but still red and raw. He knelt by the blood and started to wash the floor clean. The blood was thickening, and he felt nauseous with the task. A taste of metal hit the back of his throat and he threw up a little despite wanting not to. He spat in the bucket and resumed his task.
It will be a long night. Thank you, God, for warning us. You saved our lives.
Martin was ashamed to see his hands shaking as he wrung out the cloth, the water running dark with blood in the moon light.
Thirteen
Between Cala and Salt Lake City, January 902 A.C.
KATHERINE WOKE SLOWLY. She lay still trying to figure out what had happened to her. She remembered the severing from Gaea and being lost with Dog. And trying to find a way to stay sane. How vulnerable she had felt. How very alone in the world she had become. Then the feeling when they had discovered how to tap into the world and the immense power that threatened to overwhelm her. She had lost herself to it. They had torn across the land. Ripping up trees. Killing animals for the sheer joy of it. She remembered the pleasure of pulling power into herself. How it filled her and demanded release. She remembered the gates of Cala… and… Cala, oh no! What did we do in Cala?
Grief and guilt overpowered her as images of the people she had killed flooded her memories. We murdered those people! She had to escape the sense of wrong that engulfed her. Murderer! She felt her grip on who she was slip and falter. She cried out and suddenly Dog was slamming into her mind across their bond. She grabbed hold of him with her mind and soaked up the support he was giving her. She sobbed in relief. She felt Dog running closer as fast as he could. He pulled power and barely touched the ground. She could sense he had been hunting in a way that amused him. His joy at her waking almost removed the guilt that spun inside her, but not quite. We killed all those people!
The next thing she knew, Dog was on her and licking her face furiously. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in tight, refusing to let go.
Katherine, you are awake! I worried you might not come back. I was all alone.
“Dog, thank you. Thank you!”
What did I do?
“You saved me, again. What happened? I remember Cala. What we did! Oh, Dog!”
She felt Dog recoil in guilt. He felt it, too. How could we do that? This power! It is too much. “Dog, no, not both of us. It’s not your fault. It was me. I did it.” She sobbed into Dog’s neck. She remembered standing at the gate of Cala. A guard had challenged her and then made a comment about a lonely girl out at night. She had sensed his thoughts. Terrible thoughts. Her vision had burned red. She had taken the guard apart before she knew what she was doing. She had turned him to a liquid with a thought. Then she remembered only flashes of memories. Guards approaching with the intent to do her harm. Swords out, held before them. She sensed their desire to strike her down and kill her and Dog. She killed them. Then others approached. And she killed them, too. Anyone she saw or sensed became a threat. I had sensed the entire city! I would have killed them all. The feeling of power coursing through her was too much to contain. Unleashing it in new and imaginative ways had consumed her. She had delighted in it. She had laughed watching people die in front of her.
She pulled Dog tighter and heard his mental grunt. Then she realised something was pulling at her. Her body was demanding something. Her mind tasted salt, and she wondered what it was. It was a thirst—a hunger. The power?
She let go of Dog and sat up. She sat in an area clear of snow on dry, brown grass. The ground beneath her was flattened, but the area all around her was covered in at least a foot of snow. “Dog, how long was I lying here? How long since Cala?”
I don’t know. A long time? More than minutes.
“Where are we?”
Away from the last place, but not at the other place where we were before.
Katherine laughed, and it felt good. She pushed her negative thoughts aside to deal with the present. “I feel healthy. How’d you feed me?”
I didn’t. I fed you power to keep you warm. You fed yourself.
“Huh? What do you mean?”
You turned the power into health. I don’t think we need to eat anymore. Or sleep. But I like to hunt. It feels good. It helps me remember who I am.
“I did that? Truly?”
Dog licked her nose. Yes. It is good you are awake. We can move away from the men I killed.
“W-what!?” exclaimed Katherine and looked around the area for the first time. Snow covered everything, but she could make out mounds. “What men?”
Two men. One is still a body. Over there. I dragged it away from you. The cold is keeping it good. I let the little animals eat it a little.
Katherine stood up and was surprised by how fit she remained. She tested her joints before taking a step. She was fine. “Show me the body.”
Dog led her through the trees and deep snow to the body. He dug at a snow mound and uncovered the head and shoulders of a soldier lying on his front and wearing sergeant rank. The face had been savaged by animals and was unrecognisable, but she recognised the clothes. �
��Was this one of the men from Cala? One of the ones that walked up to us?”
Yes.
“Where’s the other one?”
I turned him into fog.
“What? A fog? Do you mean into a mist? Like in Cala?”
Yes, I am good at the power, now. I waited then attacked. They were taking you to the black creature in Munsten.
“How do you know this?”
I tracked them for days. Watched over them. Listened to them. Waited. Then I attacked like the wolves did when we rescued Will.
Katherine was so proud and thankful for Dog at that moment. “Thank you, Dog.”
Sweat broke out on Katherine’s forehead and she wiped it away. A sense of nausea swept over her followed by a sharp cramp in her lower guts. “Ugh, I don’t feel so well.”
Dog lifted a leg and peed on the dead man.
“Dog! Have respect!”
Dog panted a laugh and ran back to where Katherine had woken. Your stuff is over here.
Katherine waited until another bout of pain in her stomach passed. She drew in power and examined her guts. She was completely empty of anything. Whatever sustenance she needed, it didn’t create anything she needed to void. She couldn’t understand the pains. Katherine searched internally for what could be ailing her, but her guts seemed fine.
She drew power to block the pain and stood up to walk over to Dog. He was sniffing at her backpack which he had just uncovered from the snow. She stooped down and rummaged through it. All her belongs were still there; including the glass sickle. She pulled it out and stared at it. “Thank goodness,” she said and pushed Dog’s nose out of her pack. “Get out nosey.” She stopped and looked at the sickle up close. What the…?
There are more packs, interrupted Dog.
“Really? Show me.” Katherine stowed the sickle and stood up, and then bent over double when a violent spasm rippled through her from her stomach down to her lower abdomen. Her knees threatened to buckle under her. Sweat beaded her brow, and she felt her pores open up with sweat. “By the Word, what is wrong with me?”
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