Weaving Words

by Knox, Kim

  The need to do something had Vara pacing her sitting room. Yet, she was trapped. Anything she tried could reveal that she wasn’t the true Annaliese. A slip of the tongue, not knowing someone’s name or where something was would be construed as a lapse. But she couldn’t risk the chance that others would report her odd behaviour to Tarou. He was already suspicious of her.

  “Wouldn’t you be?” She tugged at the twists of gold pulling at her scalp. “After all, I…she…was dead.”

  Repeated knocks on the door made her start. Vara blew out a calming breath. It was probably her maid. She hoped. She pushed down the thought that Tarou would visit his wife. No. The maid. That elusive girl still hadn’t turned up. She yanked the door bolts free from the frame and the floor. Vara, despite everything, was getting hungry. She opened the door to Kaede and her stomach growled in protest.

  “Lady.”

  He walked into her room without invitation, shut and bolted the door. It was a relief to see him. “How do I get breakfast, Kaede?”

  He dropped his leather bag on a small, low table. Surprised, he turned to her. “You’re concerned about food?”

  “Being brought back from the dead gives you such an appetite.” Her stomach growled again and she rubbed at it through the tough tightness of the belt. “I don’t remember when I last ate.”

  Kaede sighed. “We don’t have time for this.”

  “So I die of hunger?”

  “Lady Annaliese…”

  She glared at him. “That is not who I am.”

  “Tarou is nervous.”

  Vara blinked. That threw her. “What?” She tried to think his words though again, and failed. “What?”

  “He has something planned. Something his wife, which you are, was going to do for him.” He unbuckled the straps holding his bag shut. “I think it might have to do with pleasing the king.”

  Kaede had succeeded in making her forget about her hunger. “Pleasing as in…?”

  “Tarou’s been using her as bait for years.”

  “Wonderful.” Vara sank onto a silk-covered couch, wincing as the belt dug under her breasts. “Now I get to be a king’s toy.”

  “I don’t think she’s had sex with him.”

  Vara snorted. “Lucky her. So it’s my treat.” She bit at her lip and the sour taste of bacon fat made her head feel light. “Kaede, I do need food.” She looked about the cold room with its heavy tapestries and expensive, ornate furniture and tried to focus. “The maid seems to have run away.” Her smile was crooked. “Not that I can blame her.”

  Kaede shut his bag again and let out a slow sigh. “I will get you breakfast.” He pulled his tunic straight. “Don’t touch that bag.”

  His dark eyes burned with frustration and Vara couldn’t help herself. “Do you know how pretty you are when you’re angry?” The sudden flush under his skin made her smile grow. “Really.”

  “Very funny. I’m trying to keep us alive and you? You flirt.”

  “There’s not much else for me to do.”

  Kaede stopped at the door. “Think about who you really are. Concentrate. I have to know if Annaliese created this problem, or if you did.”

  “Me?”

  “Think about it.” And he was gone.

  Vara pushed herself off the couch and secured the door. He was crazy. This situation had nothing to do with her. She rotated her neck, wanting to ease the pull of tension making her spine ache. “Concentrate,” she murmured.

  The memory of her death rose up and her chest tightened. She willed herself to breathe. She had to face her past. Warm air drew her outside to the little garden. Golden light splashed over the wall, the morning sun climbing higher in the heat-hazed sky. The scent of the flowers and the heavy drone of insects filled her senses.

  There was a little chair set to one side, almost lost to the cool shadows. Vara sat and closed her eyes.

  “Concentrate,” she said again.

  The rich sent of jasmine and chamomile wove through her. Rhythmic buzzing and somewhere the gentle drip, drip, drip of water slowed her pulse, slowed…and then the warm world around her faded.

  She tasted the cold, dry air, heavy with snow. Warm leather and fur protected her as she patrolled the towers. A smile pulled at her mouth. The pelts she wore always stank and the priests complained endlessly.

  “Captain Haradt, I want a word with you.”

  She didn’t groan because that would be unprofessional. Being unprofessional in front of the priests tended to get her privy duty and she’d already had that twice in a month. Maybe she was learning…? “How can I help you, Holy One?”

  The small man, bald, wizened, and huddled in thick wolf fur, glared up at her. His bright blue eyes were sharp, hard. “Who ordered you to patrol here?”

  “My section commander, Holy One.”

  “When was this order given?”

  She stopped herself from saying it’d been a standing order for the Third Captain of the Towers since records began. Because that of course would be unprofessional. Even if this was the Goddess Maeva’s newest temple, halfway up a mountain they had no right to be on, the rules stayed the same.

  “This morning,” she said and tried hard to keep the twist of sarcasm from her face. Priests and warriors never mixed well, but the emperor had put them together in the temple, so there they stayed. She added, “Holy One,” for good measure.

  “Well, you shouldn’t be here. I expressly stated that these towers were beyond the purview of the warriors. This is a holy place, sacred. You, with your stink and blood-soaked swords, are not allowed…”

  His words rolled over her. She watched her breath curl in the freezing air and barely saw the little man whose face was gradually turning scarlet under his rant.

  The back of her neck prickled and her hand jumped to her sword.

  “What are you doing? How dare—”

  “Shut up. Now.” She pushed the little priest back along the narrow tunnel connecting the second and third sanctuary towers. The air tasted wrong, somehow sour. Her first command was to protect the priests. She had to remind herself of that as the struggling priest kicked her in the shin. “Something is wrong. Can’t you taste it?”

  “Taste it? What are you…”

  Howling shook the air.

  She took a firm hold of his robe and dragged him after her. Snow flurried through the arrow loops, followed by a thickening mist that swirled around them. Something else twisted there, something tangible.

  “The worshippers of Maeva must die.”

  A sudden swipe of razored claws from the mist raked the priest open from throat to belly, splattering her with hot blood. His screams tore through her. She staggered back into a solid body and cried out as claws dug into her neck.

  “All of you must die.”

  Chapter Four

  Rapid knocks on the door jolted her.

  Vara’s hand shot to her mouth. Gulping down air, she tried to calm herself. Warm breezes washed over her damp skin and she breathed in the rich, easing odour of chamomile. What the hell had been in that temple? What had grabbed her?

  More knocks had her pushing herself up and moving awkwardly to the door. Her legs were shaky. She pulled back the bolt and opened the door. Kaede stood holding a tray. She let out a slow sigh, turned back from him and found a couch. It was a relief to sit.

  “Lady?” He dumped the tray and sat beside her. His hand hovered over hers before he took it. Warm fingers rubbed over her skin. “Has something happened?”

  She laughed, a bitter sound even to her own ears. “You asked me to concentrate. I did.”

  He blinked and pulled his hands away. Securing the door, he stared at her. “And what did you learn?”

  “My full name is Captain Vara Haradt.”

  Kaede poured clear tea into two small, smooth cups and handed one to her. She sipped it and didn’t look at him. Her panic was embarrassing. She was a high-ranking solider. Vara rubbed at her left shoulder, expecting a deep, old scar. Yes, a sol
dier wounded in battle, highly decorated and she was falling to pieces over a memory. “I was guarding the sanctuary towers of Maeva when we were attacked. Something with claws. Something that wanted us all dead.”

  Her hand shook and she put the cup down.

  “I need to know more, lady.”

  “What? How I had to spit out the priest’s blood? How he screamed?” She blew out a hot breath. “I failed in my duty. I should be dead. I deserve it.”

  “And you just happened to end up in the body of a lord’s dead wife thousands of miles away?” He sat next to her again and inhaled the steam from his tea. “I have to know…Captain.”

  “I can’t guarantee—”

  “I can.”

  Vara followed his gaze to his leather bag still sitting on the low table. “More of your spells.”

  “Tarou said he’ll kill both of us if you’re not you when we enter the banquet hall.”

  Her stomach growled again. Vara picked up a steaming bowl of porridge. She dipped a wide spoon into it. Her first taste proved it was not porridge, but it was bland and filling. Her stomach was happy.

  Vara was aware of Kaede watching her. She swallowed the last mouthful. “I know.” She stabbed a fork into grilled fish, broke off a piece, tasted it and shuddered. Too sharp. “I know Tarou will kill us both, but can I have a little time to get used to the idea of magic?”

  “The banquet will start at sunset and hours before that you must be made ready. We have to move forward now.”

  Vara emptied a bowl of dried fruit, sipped at her cooled tea and sat straight. She was a warrior, felt it in her bones. She would not disgrace those who had fallen at the temple with her cowardice. “What do I have to do?” Kaede flashed her a smile and unexpected heat surged up her chest. She was trying to be brave, selfless and with a simple smile, he turned all of her thoughts to lust. “Can we do a deal?”

  He looked up from sorting through his bag, his silver robe already folded over his arm. “Deal?”

  “When this is over I want you and me in that bed through there.”

  Kaede blinked and his skin flushed. He swallowed, his gaze fixed on the open doorway to her bedroom. “Lady…”

  “I’m not her, Kaede.”

  He broke off his stare. His jaw tightened and he turned back to his bag. “The answer is no.”

  The simple, quiet words stabbed through Vara. She should accept his refusal, but a word slipped out. “Why?”

  He cradled the crown of a skull in the palm of his hand, a finger tracing the smoothed edges. “I’m a witch.”

  “What, and witches don’t have sex?”

  “Yes, we do. Just not with…” He turned back to his bag, the sentence unfinished.

  “Women?”

  A smile twitched on his mouth. “Oh, I could happily strip you naked right here, right now, Vara.” Dark eyes pinned her and her mouth dried. Raw need burned in him and her body blazed with the corresponding tug. “I could.” He let out a slow breath and lifted out a jar of white powder, putting it on the table. “But I won’t. The problem is I want to.”

  She struggled to speak. “And that’s a problem?”

  “Something in you calls to the witch in me. Wants to bind me to you. You have a strength that complements mine and it would ensure the survival of my powers in our children.”

  Vara choked. “I wasn’t planning that far ahead.”

  “Neither was I.” He shrugged on the silver robe, pulled the thin hood over his head and fastened the ties at his waist. “I can’t risk it. I won’t put more of my kind into slavery.”

  Vara stared at her feet, feeling torn. Nice to be rejected for a reason. She looked up. “What do we need to do?”

  He dropped ingredients into the crown of the skull and twisted his fingers above it. Energy crackled through the air. There was a sharp pop and then a gush of acrid grey smoke.

  Ash coated the tips of his fingers. He brushed a circle out over the smooth stone and stepped inside. He held a small clay pot of liquid gold. Kaede’s breathing slowed. “I’m going to weave. Please, stand inside the circle.”

  Vara pushed herself up and stepped over the drawn line. The thick scents of leather, sweat and blood hit her. A rush of heat prickled over her skin and she gasped. “What the hell was that?”

  “The circle protects us.”

  “From what?”

  “From the Words.”

  “The Words?” Her thoughts were stilted. Kaede hadn’t made the circle big enough. He was too close, her mouth almost level with his. She fixed her eyes on the worn silver of his robe, focusing on the unintelligible runes stitched into the delicate hide.

  “Some witches don’t wear a robe. They don’t live long.” His warm breath brushed her cheek. “This is almost a thousand years old.” She knew he was smiling. “It’s a family heirloom.

  “Words.” He let out a slow sigh. “Words focus my energy, give it shape, bend it to my will. But they have a power of their own and can devour the unprepared.” He took her hand and pressed it to his heart. It laboured hard, pounding under her palm. “I’ll paint a pattern on your skin. It’ll bring out your memories and share them with me. I’ll be in your memory, see what you see, feel what you feel. Do you understand, Vara?”

  She held his gaze. “Yes.”

  He dipped his fingers into the liquid gold and the air burned with the stink of hot metal. His light touch curved over her forehead, her nose, her cheeks. She flinched, but the liquid metal wasn’t hot as it formed a tangled shape that itched like a cobweb against her skin. It began to pulse, to gleam.

  Words poured from Kaede, his moving lips a blur. His face reddened and sweat beaded his skin. Vara fought to stay still, to stay calm as the air crackled around her, the whisper of hungry Words pulling at her senses.

  Kaede took a pouch from a pocket in his robe, loosened it and tipped out a fine grey-white powder. It didn’t fall. It swept upward toward her. He gripped her wrist, holding her still and the powder surged over her face.

  Vara cried out.

  “Blood to bind it. Bone to seal it!”

  The sitting room, its dark stone walls, couches and tapestries blurred and faded. Cold air swept around her, chilling her skin. The familiar stink of old leather and ancient fur hit her nostrils. And something else. The odour of blood. Somehow she knew it was hers. Memory snapped over her.

  “The emperor thinks he has power in these mountains.”

  Claws dug at her throat, just breaking the skin with a prickle of pain. She couldn’t see what held her, but felt the strong body of a man pressed to her back. He stank like her fur. Ahead was only mist. On the floor, the little priest was dead, his eyes staring in horror. Her gut twisted, but she stayed calm.

  “This is your mountain?” It seemed he wanted to gloat. That was fine by her. It kept her alive and gave her information. “Who are you?”

  A cold muzzle pressed into her neck and she held down a shudder. “We are the mountain. Your puny goddess has little hope of taming us. Only one holy woman holds us in her sway.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Isn’t that obvious?” His slow growl vibrated against her skin, long teeth pressing. “I’m going to eat you.”

  Vara stamped on his foot and swung her fist into his groin. He staggered back. “Not today.” She whipped out her short sword and drove it into his gut. His howl shook the air. Yanking her weapon free, he fell to his knees and she ran. She was not thinking what he’d looked like, because it was impossible. He was not a wolf. Not at all.

  She had to raise the alarm. The temple was under attack.

  The towers stood empty, but the thick splatter of blood streaked the stone walls. Howling echoed through the temple and chilled her blood. Screams echoed around her. Vara grabbed her surging panic and pushed it down. Think. She had to think. The night guard would just be turning into their bunks. Rousing them was her best plan to defend the temple.

  She burst out of the tower door and charged down the steps
. Mist enveloped her, the cold bite of snow freezing her skin. Her heart pounded and still she ran.

  A shape loomed out of the mist.

  “Run, Captain. The brethren are dead. And you,” from the burst of snow, a long curved blade slashed down, “you are no longer needed.”

  Agony tore through her chest and she crashed to her knees. Blood choked her. She scrabbled at the hilt with numbing fingers, her strength draining away. The stench of her attacker overwhelmed her. Dimly, she saw his muzzled face as he licked her jaw with a hot, wet tongue.

  “You taste sweet.”

  Fangs gleamed with saliva. They swallowed her vision. Vara thought she screamed—

  —and then a burst of brilliant white shrouded her. Pain seared and she was falling. Raw-throated screaming, screaming in unison with someone else...

  Vara opened her eyes, saw a cavern and a stranger’s face.

  Kaede’s face.

  Chapter Five

  Kaede’s eyes shot open. He caught Vara before she wilted and broke the protection of the circle. His trembling finger retraced the spider-thin weaving of gold, drawing it from her skin, erasing the pattern.

  His body sagged. Lifting the unconscious Vara, Kaede willed himself to leave the ash-drawn circle. He laid her body across the couch and searched her throat for a pulse. He found one, slow and strong. Relieved that she was alive, he fell into a chair set beside the fireplace. He rubbed at his face and willed the pain out of his bones, his flesh.

  Vara was telling the truth. She was a soldier and had died defending her temple. Kaede pushed at the memories. As she died, someone else was there, someone echoing her screams. Yet, before that, there had been…singing. Yes, for a moment he’d heard the rise and fall of a rapid song in Vara’s voice. He blinked. No, not Vara…Annaliese.

  He focused. The song was elusive, but he grappled with language every day. He closed his eyes and concentrated, breaking down and reforming the Words.

  Kaede’s heart stopped.

  He stared at the unconscious woman on the couch. The sucking in of Vara’s soul had been a deliberate act…by the woman she now inhabited. Kaede rubbed his hands together, finding them clammy. A tremor shook them. It hadn’t been a resurrection. His weaving that morning had been pointless. What Annaliese had done took an incredible amount of power and nerve. She’d swapped souls. And it had worked.