by Ann Lawrence
She was grateful that Lien was a pilgrim. The rest of his status, whether runaway slave or wealthy merchant, mattered little.
Lien, the pilgrim, could be set from her mind. Ollach could worry about him, not she. After all, what good did it do her to think of this man?
Certain women might be thrilled to find a runaway slave. ‘Twas thought they made excellent bed partners. A runaway slave would be desperate to please or he might find himself sold in the common marketplace or, worse, returned to an angry master.
An uncanny heat curled in her belly, but she ignored it. She was not interested in bed play. It pleased the man well, but the woman little.
Nilrem called to Lien and pointed toward the thick line of trees ahead. Lien was unlike any of the fair-haired warriors who rode at her side. He was lean and well browned as if he walked about naked in the sun. The image brought a return of the quick, hot heat in her loins.
She imagined that Lien had charmed more than his share of woman to bed play in the past, but what had she to fear of him this day? If Lien was truly a pilgrim as he said, he had no need of women—nor desire for them, either.
Pilgrims were celibate.
Chapter Five
Lien complimented himself on his pilgrim tale. It muddied the water about his status. In the game, pilgrims were protected, no matter what their original occupation. It was considered bad luck to kill a pilgrim. That thought warmed his innards.
Of course, he imagined that slaves weren’t permitted to be pilgrims, but if he said he wasn’t a slave enough times, maybe Ardra would eventually believe it.
He didn’t really believe much in omens or such, but it did seem more than a coincidence that he had entered the game at the very moment when Ardra needed help. Somehow he thought it might be bad luck to just walk away from her…at least for a while.
He didn’t much care for the mood of her men, though. Once they set foot on the barely perceptible path into the forest, they began murmuring amongst themselves when Ardra was out of earshot.
Nilrem called a halt to the party at dawn. Deep in the woods, the blood-red sun announced its presence with a strange light as if the trees were on fire. Nilrem stood up in his cart and gestured for all to gather about him.
“I have made an important decision,” the wiseman began. “Mistress Ardra, I ask that your party leave me behind.” He touched the staff on which he leaned. “This cart cannot keep pace with the rest of you. Neither can I ride a horse for many miles. Therefore, I suggest you leave me with a man or two as guards and proceed at full speed.”
Ardra bit her lip. “Will Tol not need you?”
Nilrem climbed awkwardly from his cart. He hugged her. “I fear Tol will have no need of either healer or wiseman.”
Lien watched her. Her eyes glittered a moment, but then she donned a cold manner.
“It will be as you suggest.” She turned toward her men and indicated two, then spoke to Lien. “And you, pilgrim. You came to seek the wiseman, so it seems most fitting you tend him.”
Before he could open his mouth, Nilrem spoke. “I fear, mistress, you must take Lien with you. He saved you at the precise moment the conjunction began. You must agree ‘tis an omen.”
She fisted her hands on her hips. “I do not agree. He is useless to me. He does not ride well; he might be a runaway slave. He is—”
“Take him. I see it in the stars.” Nilrem spoke softly, and Ardra’s men murmured and glanced from one to another.
Lien grinned. Not because he wanted to be in Ardra’s party over Nilrem’s, but because he could almost see steam coming out of Ardra’s ears. “I know when I’m not wanted. I’ll be happy to stay with Nilrem.”
Ollach stepped forward. “Mistress, we have entered a place of magic. I must caution going against the wiseman’s words.”
Nilrem nodded. “Mistress Ardra, you must take Lien with you. I feel it in my old bones. He is needed in some way.”
Lien looked at the old man but could detect no humor in his face. In fact, as Nilrem leaned toward Ardra, he seemed to be urging her to obey him with every fiber of his body.
Ardra dropped into a deep curtsey. What did the old-fashioned gesture mean? Capitulation? A nod to something greater than herself? A belief in magic?
While Ardra’s men distributed the wagon’s provisions among their saddles, Nilrem stumped over to him. “Listen to me, young Lien. This is the Goddess of Darkness’s domain. Tread lightly here, I warn you.”
“Look, what possible good can I be to Ardra? As she said, I don’t ride that well, and my vow says I can’t pick up a sword, so why not let me stay with you?”
“She will take you through the forest and to the border between Selaw and Tolemac. From such a location you can make your choice, go in any direction. But you may also prove of some use. Have you no sense of responsibility to this woman whose life you saved?”
“No. None. Don’t put that on me.” He hadn’t been able to preserve his mother’s life despite the marvels of modern science and psychology; how could he do any better in a primitive world of weapons and superstition? “I saved her; I’m done with her.”
“Then simply take advantage of these many men who may protect you on your journey. Remember, your status is in doubt. Ardra owes you her life. She will not take such a debt lightly.”
Lien looked around. Nilrem would have three warriors and the cart. Ardra had about a dozen retainers. Some were servants, but most were men with swords. If he stayed with Ardra, he’d get the nickel tour for free, food and lodging included. “Okay. I’ll stay with Ardra.” Once made, the decision felt right.
“Remember one other thing, young man. Once you have claimed the debt she owes you, ‘tis claimed. You cannot call on her twice. So pick your time wisely.” Nilrem bowed and Lien returned it.
He assisted the old man into the cart. For the first few miles, the old man and his party kept pace, but gradually they fell behind. Twice Ardra lifted her hand, and twice her men picked up their pace, wending deeper into the forest.
The Tangled Wood was unlike anything Lien had ever seen. Giant trees towered overhead, their huge branches forming a canopy that blocked out the light in many places. The roots, as thick as his arms, erupted from the trunks, then twisted on each other before disappearing into the earth. Despite the lack of light, vines intertwined with the roots, some with white flowers shaped like teacups. The effect was a sea of vines around the base of each tree. It was difficult to tell where one tree began and another ended.
“Have you ever been here before?” Lien asked Ollach.
“Nay. ‘Tis an evil place. This path we ride is said to have been hewed from the forest in the ancient time. No one remembers who performed the task. ‘Tis said to be a road of magic, trod by the Goddess and her minions.”
“Jolly.”
Ardra’s entourage made too much noise for Lien to catch sight of animals or birds. He saw only the pale shadows of deer that looked as white as snow.
The deeper they went, the darker the forest grew. After a few hours, Ardra ordered torches lit, and although Lien guessed it was about midafternoon, they needed the glow of the smoking flames to see where they were going.
Every now and then they would burst into a clearing. The sky overhead, a dazzling bowl of amethyst, might tell everyone else it was still day, but it told Lien he was definitely not in his own world.
His sense of euphoria lasted until his rear began to ache. He was grateful when Ardra called a halt. Her men took advantage of the short stop to take naps. Twelve hours of solid sleep wouldn’t have been enough for Lien.
“I should have stayed with Nilrem,” he said to Ardra when she stopped at his side.
She sank down in a pool of green skirts and took his arm. Her fingers were gentle as she untied the bandages and inspected her work. For the first time, she smiled. Lien found himself staring.
“Why?” she prompted. “Why should you have stayed with Nilrem?”
“I think I left my ass a f
ew miles back.”
She laughed. It was a low, throaty sound. “You cannot have been a warrior if you do not know you ride a horse, not an ass.”
“No. Ass.” Lien rubbed his backside. “Where I come from, this part of the body is sometimes referred to as an ass.”
She ducked her head and inspected her work. “I see. Forgive my ignorance of your ways.”
He placed his hand over hers. “No. Forgive me for my impolite behavior. My mother would be appalled.” Then he remembered that his mother wasn’t around to care about anything. In fact, hadn’t cared much about him or herself for a long time.
Ardra took his hand. “You look troubled. Is something wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I’m impressed with that gray goop, whatever it is.”
“You are troubled by thoughts of your mother, are you not? Is she ill?”
He stood up and rolled his sleeve down. “My mother’s dead.”
Ardra rose and stood before him. “I sense ‘tis a recent thing, her passing. If so, you will understand my need to get to Tol.”
“Sure, I understand. I just don’t understand the rest of all this.” He swept a hand out to her men. “How can Ralen help you?”
“He has influence. I did not finish with your arm. Hold it out, pilgrim.”
“What of your own influence?” Lien did as she asked. She wrapped his arm in fresh bandages and tied it snugly.
“A woman has no influence in Tolemac and little in Selaw. I had only the influence Tol allowed me. With his passing…”
“You love him?” Lien felt it important to know if he was lusting after a grieving widow, or a soon-to-be grieving widow.
Whoa. Where had that thought come from?
“I love him.” She said it with great heat, then turned and watched her men. “He is like no other man I have ever met. He is my teacher, and I his student. He taught me to understand my people, to listen to their needs, and find a way to alleviate their suffering.”
“I gather he’s older than you.” He watched emotions play over her face.
“He is my mentor. The father of my dear son. I will never replace him. Never.”
“Then we’d better get to him quickly.”
A shadow dropped over her face. It took him a moment to realize it was a net. Without thought, he reached out and scooped her up, net and all. In two strides he was off the road. Trapped in the net, she screamed. He hissed at her to be silent.
Nets dropped all around them, engulfing the warriors, tangling horses, smothering torches. Men garbed in rags dropped on the hapless travelers, flailing clubs and shouting. Lien remained miraculously free.
He glanced about at the writhing mass of nets and men to be sure he was unobserved, then slipped into a gap in a tangle of tree roots. He pushed deep into a cave of greenery. Ardra squirmed in his arms.
“Ardra. Stop it.” She lay instantly still. He tried to find the edges of the net and failed. He could feel the rapid panting of her breath on his face. “I need your dagger to cut you free,” he whispered at her ear.
She wriggled in his arms; then something poked him in the stomach. He worked his fingers into the netting and pulled out her knife. Carefully so as not to cut her, he sawed the strands of the net apart. It was made of the vines that entangled the tree roots. They were tough but finally parted, and he helped her struggle free of their grip. Then, to help conceal her further, he pulled her hood up and over her hair.
He held up a finger for her to be silent. “Keep your head down. I’m going to see what I can do.”
He crawled out of the roots. He couldn’t fight the men from the trees, not with one tiny dagger. He duck-walked to the closest warrior and cut him free. It was Ollach. With a finger to his lips, Lien pointed left, then right to indicate the direction that each should take.
All around Lien, men were shouting, horses thrashing, and women screaming. He slid along the ground, cutting the mesh and freeing warriors. Each man drew his sword and began to slash and cut at their ragged enemies, who had only clubs for weapons. In moments, it was all over. The men from the trees swarmed up the trunks and with shrieks and howls abandoned the fight.
Ardra’s men sheathed their swords, cut the remaining prisoners free, then began to inspect the wounded.
Lien crawled into Ardra’s shelter, offered her his hand, and tugged her from her hiding place. She walked slowly around the camp, speaking to each person and making use of her pouch of gray goo where needed. Lien walked behind her and watched.
The cook had a goose egg on his forehead. His fat face gleamed with sweat, and he trembled. “Mistress, we must move on.” The man’s eyes swept the lush canopy over their heads.
“Aye, we will do so.” She patted his shoulder. “After Ollach and his men bury the dead. Luckily, none of them are ours.”
Lien took her arm and helped her up. She did not remove it as they continued the inspection of her men. When they were ready to mount their horses, he looped his fingers together and she placed her boot in his palm, one hand on his shoulder.
“Lien,” she said before he boosted her into the saddle. “Again, I owe you my life.” The hood slid off her head. She looked disheveled and weary.
“I guess I’m not so completely useless, and you have a leaf in your hair.”
“I will not forget your help.” She lifted her hands, and ran them through her hair, and plucked out the leaf. For a moment, she sat there, the leaf between her fingers. “This is a rare find.” Then she extended it to him. “Keep it. For luck.”
The leaf was thick and glossy, shaped like a spade in a deck of cards. It was odd. He saw no other trees nearby that had leaves shaped in the same way. He shrugged and tucked it into his tunic.
“Against your wound,” she said. “It comes from the Tree of Valor. ‘Tis said the old ones used it to heal.”
“Old ones?”
“Aye. The old ones who once inhabited the forest. They disappeared hundreds of conjunctions ago. Many say because they feared the goddess.”
His horse was led forward by Ollach, and Lien knew he was going to have to mount up, sore ass or not. “So this goddess is immortal?” Right. And fairies sing.
“Nay, Lien. Each goddess trains her firstborn daughter to carry on her evil.”
Ardra posted two warriors, one in front and one behind, to keep an exclusive watch overhead as they traveled on. Would it be enough? What else might befall them? Luckily no one of theirs had been killed.
Lien rode at her side, and it somehow seemed right to do so. She now owed him twice for her life.
“If there’s a daughter goddess, there must be a god somewhere.”
Ardra glanced at him. Curious marks were blooming across his cheek. A puffiness distorted the fine line of his jaw. “A consort. Goddesses take consorts. It is said that one may know him because he will be wearing the goddess’s Black Eye.”
“Black eye?”
She saw him shift in the saddle. He appeared most uncomfortable, yet did not complain. She recalled the blows he had sustained on her behalf. Why had she not allowed him to remain behind?
“Hello, Ardra? Black eye?” He did something with his fingers and a sharp sound was produced.
“How did you do that?” she asked.
He looked down at his fingers and then up at her. “I just snapped my fingers, nothing much.” He did it several times.
“Show me,” she said. “‘Tis marvelous.”
He demonstrated, and she tried repeatedly. Although she succeeded in reproducing the sound, it did not match the sharpness of his. Perhaps it was the stronger male hand that made the difference. Thoughts of his hands and how they had held her hard against him as they hid in the tree roots brought a sheen of sweat to her palms.
“Ardra, now that you’ve unlocked that little secret, what’s the black eye?”
She snapped her fingers and laughed, then sobered. “Oh, the Black Eye is a jewel. Unlike the amber and turquoise which are healing and sacred, the Black E
ye is considered cursed. Only the consort may wear it with impunity. Only one such stone has ever been found in the many mines of the chiefdoms.”
She noticed her men watching her and realized she had given Lien far too much of her attention. “I must move forward.”
Lien nodded and muttered something under his breath when she lifted her hand for more speed. She overtook the few men who separated her from the forward guard.
“Push the men faster, Ollach,” she ordered. “I do not wish to meet with another disaster. Those men who attacked us—do you think they were outcasts?”
Ollach shrugged. “Most likely, mistress. If they had been sent by the goddess, they would not have been so easily routed. We could have used some archers.”
“Aye. ‘Tis a pity Samoht would not allow us any.”
“Forgive me, mistress, but is it wise to talk to the pilgrim?” Ollach asked.
“You forget your place,” she said.
She wheeled her mount and moved back to a center position next to the pilgrim to show Ollach he could not dictate her actions. “Lien, I must thank you for saving my life again.”
“No problem.” His answer was curt.
“You are in pain?”
“I have pains on my pains. How much farther do you think we need to go?”
“If Ollach is correct in his estimations, we will leave the forest at the next sunrising.”
“And what time is it now?” He raised his gaze to the canopy overhead. For a brief moment, in the dark shadows of the trees and torchlight, he looked like one of the ancient ones carved in ice rock. A wave of dizziness came over her.
“I do not know,” she managed. But she did know. The sunrising would not be for a long time. The distance to the Selaw border was long also. Tol might be dead ere they reached it. The wave of dizziness receded as she pushed her horse to greater speed. Once Tol was gone, these warriors would melt away from her as the ice did when brought to the fire, for they were Tol’s men, Tolemac warriors, as Ralen was. They would feel no obligation to serve her unless Samoht so ordered it.