“I present you to the Three,” she said, formally. “They are the leaders of our community. Please, join them in the pool.”
Hind hesitated. The guide sighed, placed one hand firmly against her back and pushed, hard. Hind fell forward and splashed into the pool, blinking as she splashed into the warm water. It felt…odd somehow, as if she were swimming in liquid light. The Three grinned at her discomfort and motioned for her to lean against the side, held up by…something from under the water. It was a curiously sensual experience. She had learned the value of bathing often at the Academy – one of the insults the noble-born used against the common-born was smelly – yet she had never floated in water like this. She took a deep breath and relaxed, feeling the tension easing its way out of her muscles, and then looked up at the Three. They were smiling patiently at her.
The first woman was young, barely out of her teens. She had long blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a pair of firm breasts that could be seen clearly under the water. Hind felt an odd sense of challenge in her blue eyes, one that faded away as she relaxed. The second woman was older – Hind would have placed her as being in her thirties – with short brown hair and a perpetually friendly expression that reminded her of her mother. The third woman was old, with a gimlet stare and long grey hair that was tightly tied up into a bun. Her face looked as if she was perpetually sucking a lemon, but there was a glint of amusement in her eyes, as if she was an actor merely playing a role. Hind allowed herself to relax into the water and waited for one of them to speak.
“We are the Three,” the youngest said. Her voice was soft and sultry, but perfectly composed, with an edge that suggested that things might not go well for anyone who refused to listen to her. “We are the Maiden, the Mother and the Crone, the representatives of the Triple Goddess on Touched and the elected leaders of Harmonious Repose.”
“Welcome to our community,” the middle-aged woman said. Hind realised that she was the Mother, which made the older woman the Crone. “You have endured much sacrifice to find us.”
Hind chuckled, nervously. “I’m not quite sure what I’m doing here,” she said, before she could stop herself. “If you’re looking for a virgin sacrifice, I’m afraid I’m no longer qualified.”
The Crone threw back her head and cackled. “We didn’t pull you and your little friend, one of our bloodline, out of the snow so that we could sacrifice you, my dear,” she said. “One of our friends asked for our permission to pass through our territory and we were…curious.”
“You are in no danger,” the Mother assured her. “Honesty compels us to admit that we may never be able to let you go, but you are in no danger of being killed…”
“Unless you disrupt the community,” the Maiden added, quickly. “We cannot tolerate disruption from a person who cannot leave.”
“Honestly,” the Crone snapped. “You’re only scaring the child.”
“Confusing me,” Hind admitted. “Why…what is this place?”
The tale took several hours – or so she thought – to recite, mainly because the three women kept interrupting and correcting one another. The gist of it, at least as far as she could determine, was that a few centuries ago, a group of witches had appeared in Pittenweem, where they’d been considered a threat by the Lord of Garstang. He’d sent his sorcerers after them, driving the women into the mountainside to die, but instead of dying they’d discovered the caves and the magical wellspring deep under the ground. The witches, who had been betrayed by their community – under threat of destruction, the Mother pointed out quickly – had never returned home. Instead, they’d built their secret community under the mountains and taken no part in history, choosing to remain hidden. Over the years, they’d recruited others, mainly female magicians who could offer them additional magical knowledge in exchange for high status.
Bran, it seemed, had been linked to the various bloodlines running though the hidden community. His wife, a woman born with only a tiny gift, had chosen to leave the community and find her place in the outside world. Branet, a girl with staggering potential, had been the result of her marriage to Bran. Bran had found himself with allies, in exchange for a promise that his daughter would, one day, be offered a place among the witches. He – and apparently quite a few others – had been happy to make the agreement. It even seemed that some of the men from the lower villages were invited to contribute to the bloodlines, although the witches monitored their pregnancies carefully and used healing magic to ensure that most of the children were female. The few boys born to the community were sent down the mountain and adopted into one of the villages.
The Mother, Maiden and Crone were all elected by the community and, as long as they agreed, their word was law. The Maiden had to be a maiden; the Mother had to be a Mother and the Crone had to have at least fifty years of life before she could even be considered for the post. They weren't easy posts to hold, although the Maiden admitted – with a wink – that it would be several years before she would even consider resigning and becoming a mother.
“I’m glad you liked our story,” the Mother said, with a look that reminded Hind of her own mother. “Now…how did you come to be in the mountains?”
Hind opened her mouth and did something that surprised her. She told the exact truth. The pool, she realised suddenly, worked a strange and not uncomfortable magic on anyone bathing in the water, convincing them to be completely honest. She spoke about her early life, her training at the Academy, her relationship with Eric and their escape from the Golden Palace. She even – blushing as she spoke – told them about their first night together, much to the amusement of the Maiden, who pressed for details until the Crone told her to stop wasting time.
“It was always a risk that one of the children with potential would be spotted by the Academy,” the Mother said, once Hind had finished. “We often considered taking them from their families at birth, but that would have provoked a confrontation with people whose support we needed.”
“We only need them for seed,” the Maiden pointed out. “We could simply bring them all into the mountains…”
“And then their angry parents would come after us, or summon others to come after us,” the Crone snapped. She nodded to Hind. “That’s what your Grandmaster would do if he knew about our existence, wouldn’t he?”
Hind couldn’t lie. “Yes,” she said, flatly. “Why don’t you allow men into the community?”
“Men bring disharmony,” the Mother said. “When a man is involved, women lose all sense and spend their time primping and preening for a penis on legs. Look at our Maiden; she wants what you have with your man, even though she knows better.”
The Maiden flushed. “Am I not allowed to wish for a man?”
“Yes,” the Mother said. “You are just not allowed to bring a man here.”
She looked up at Hind. “And what will you do,” she asked, “if your Prince is dead?”
“He isn’t dead,” Hind insisted. She held up her hand and showed them the ring. “He’s alive. I can feel him.”
“That may be so,” the Crone said. “The question remains, then; what are we going to do with you?”
“We intended to charge you with bringing an object of darkest magic into the community,” the Maiden explained. “We know now that it wasn’t yours and you certainly didn’t bring it intentionally. Even so…what should we do with you?”
“Our enemy uses necromancy,” Hind said, flatly. “If you insist on keeping us both as prisoners here, he will eventually use his ill-gotten powers to take over the world and he will uncover your community. You should help us both through the mountains and allow us to defeat him.”
“If you can defeat him,” the Crone said.
“Yet doing that risks exposing our existence,” the Maiden said. “You would betray us to the world.”
“I would not,” Hind said, hotly.
“Accidentally or deliberately,” the Maiden said. “It would not matter.”
The Crone looke
d up, sharply. “It may have become academic,” she said. “The Gate is under attack.”
She waved a hand in the air and an image materialised in front of them. Hind felt her heart leap as Eric appeared, holding Morningstar in front of him as he advanced on the Gate.
“Well,” she said. “You have a wellspring and experience in directing its magic. He has one of the Great Swords. It might even be a fair fight.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Eric came out of the snow like a man being chased by demons, sensing the presence of the cave mouth dead ahead. The ring pulled him onwards, refusing to allow him to slow down and think. The cave mouth was hidden under an illusion spell, but Morningstar could see through it, slicing through illusions and wards like they were nothing. Eric clutched the Great Sword in both hands and lunged forward, passing through the cave mouth and into a giant hallway. A second set of wards sparkled into existence, like a demented spider’s web, but Morningstar sliced through them too, leaving them sparkling out of existence.
“Hind,” he shouted, desperately. It was almost a cry of pain. “Where are you?”
A looming shape in the darkness revealed itself to be a statue of a man. Before Eric could do more than glance at it, the statue lurched into life, coming at him with stone fists raised to smash him to a pulp. Eric barely noticed the absence of any genitals before he slashed out with Morningstar, cutting the statue’s leg off and sending it crashing to the ground. It thrashed around, picked up its leg, stuck it back on and starting going after Eric again. Eric braced himself as a massive fist rocketed past where he’d been and sliced away at the stone, this time separating both arms and legs from the animated statue. He had to admit that it wasn't a bad defence. If he’d had a normal sword, it would have shattered when he struck the stone. The statue was still twitching, but he ignored it, allowing the ring to guide him onwards into a series of passageways. He could sense powerful magic flickering around him, but nothing seemed to touch him as long as he held the Great Sword.
He looked up as a female figure appeared in the distance. For a second, he wondered if it was Hind, but the proportions were all wrong. The woman waved her hand at him and cast a spell, one powerful enough to send eerie green sparks crawling down the Great Sword and flaring out of existence at the hilt. Eric didn’t wait for her to cast another spell; he lunged at her and saw, as her wards collapsed at Morningstar’s touch, that she was young, younger even than Hind.
“Why…”
He never had a chance to finish that sentence as the woman caught his left hand and worked a spell. Eric stared in horror as his hand slowly started to turn into stone. The witch jumped back and escaped as her spell started to expand, yet somehow it wasn’t moving quickly. It should have been instant…understanding penetrated his mind and, somehow, he pushed the Great Sword against his stone hand. The spell flickered and faded out of existence, restoring his hand to normal. He swore under his breath, silently promising himself that he would slice the witch’s head off for that and followed her down the corridor. Whatever he had run into, he could handle it. Hind was counting on him to find her and free her.
The passageway led into a massive cave, easily large enough to hold hundreds of people, but it was deserted. There were hundreds of tables lying around, with scattered tools and pieces of magical equipment dropped everywhere, yet there was no sign of any inhabitants. They had clearly fled his coming, yet…who were they? If he had broken into a castle belonging to an evil sorcerer, he would have expected more resistance than just one witch. On the other hand, the defences would have been enough to stop him if he hadn’t had the Great Sword…
A flare of light came right at him. He yanked the sword up and deflected it, sending the fireball spinning across the room to crash harmlessly into the stone wall. A number of female figures were standing at the far end, snatching fireballs out of nowhere and throwing them at him, hoping to overwhelm him by sheer rate of fire. Perhaps it would have worked, but Eric allowed his mind to merge with the Great Sword and start knocking them back at the witches. One of them fell, screaming, as a fireball burned her arm; another dragged her off and performed a healing spell, while the others kept fighting. Eric kept moving forward, pushing the mysteries to one side of his mind. All that mattered now was reaching Hind.
***
“Your man appears to be causing damage,” the Crone observed. She sounded ghoulish, as if it was just an entertainment to her. “I’ve never seen Sara fall like that before. She was always so confident in her powers.”
“This isn’t a game,” the Mother thundered. “What happens when one of them dies?”
“We can pull them back and collapse the roof on him,” the Maiden said, ruthlessly practical. “We can rebuild. His sword won’t save him from that.”
“Don’t,” Hind said, seriously. She looked into the Mother’s eyes, trying to convince her. “He’s looking for me. He probably thinks that you are holding me captive and that he has to rescue me. Let me talk to him before someone actually dies.”
The Three looked at her for a long moment, judging her. “Do you swear,” the Crone asked, finally, “that you will not breathe a word about our existence to the outside world?”
“And,” the Maiden added, “that you will prevent your man from sending his armies to locate and destroy us?”
“I swear upon my name,” Hind said. It might not mean anything to them, but to someone trained by the Academy, it meant everything. A magician was defined by his or her name, as often as not. “We will not expose your secret to the world.”
“Then come on,” the Mother said, hauling herself out of the water. The Maiden followed a moment later, revealing a body that Hind almost envied. “We four will go and talk peace to the man entering our kingdom.”
Hind was on the verge of making a sarcastic remark, but she swallowed it as she realised what they intended to do. “You’re not going to confront him naked, are you?”
The Mother gave her a devastating smile. “We have had men up here before,” she said, dryly. “We will be clothed for the meeting.”
“I could always go naked,” the Maiden suggested. “I’m sure that that would distract him…”
“No,” Hind said, flatly. She was sure that Eric would be faithful to her, but there was the quiet nagging doubt. “He’s my husband.”
“See what I mean,” the Mother said, as the Crone cackled in amusement. “A man enters our secret place and the younger women lose all sense.”
Hind had to laugh as the servants appeared, produced robes and helped them to dress. The water from the pool had somehow remained in the pool, leaving them dry and comfortable. Hind pulled on the robe and waited impatiently for the Three to dress, before the Mother led them down an endless series of passageways. She had no idea how much time they had left.
***
The witches scattered as Eric reached the end of the room, vanishing into smaller passageways and running for their lives. He reminded himself not to become over-confident; it could be a tactical retreat intended to lure him into a trap. He felt the sword twist in his hand as he slipped up to the largest passageway and then fell back sharply as another woman stepped forward, sword in hand. She lashed out at him and he raised Morningstar to deflect her blow, before jumping backwards as she kept coming. She was clearly experienced in using the sword she carried. It didn’t even break as it struck Morningstar. Just for a second, he wondered if it was the missing Great Sword, but Morningstar showed no hint of recognition.
He parried her blows relentlessly, bracing himself as she mounted a flurry of attacks. She was clearly stronger and faster than the average woman and, despite her nakedness, unworried by the cold. It had been getting colder – it dawned on him that he had probably sliced through the wards keeping the cold out – yet she kept fighting. He stopped and started to counter-attack, slamming away at her defences, but she was always there to block him. He found himself meeting her eyes and sharing a sudden sense of…pleasure in the fig
ht, even though one of them would kill the other. A moment later, she lunged too far and Morningstar twisted in his hand, slicing through her wrist and sending her sword falling to the floor. He kicked out and sent her falling to the ground, placing his boot on her neck before she could jump back up and strike at him.
“Tell me,” he ordered, looking into cold dark eyes that refused to beg for mercy. “Where is my wife?”
“Here,” a voice called. “Eric!”
Eric forgot about everything as four robed women appeared out of a side passageway, led by Hind. He ran towards her and took her in his arms, feeling her lips moving up to meet his. They kissed deeply, unaware of their surroundings, until one of the women coughed meaningfully. They broke apart and shared a laugh. Suddenly, all the tension vanished from the room.
“It’s good to see you again, for real this time,” Eric said. He was still holding her hand tightly. She was squeezing him so hard that broken fingers seemed terrifyingly possible. “Why…what happened to you?”
The Black Knife Page 31