Season of Wonder

by Lisa Tawn Bergren

  “You won’t free her,” said a voice from behind me.

  Niero and Bellona both drew swords as a tall man with blond dreadlocks emerged. But he left his weapon in place. “Because I’m going to do it.”

  Vidar barked a laugh.

  “You’re late,” the blond man said. “We could’ve used your assistance and your swords.” He edged past Bellona’s tip. “A week ago.”

  “Yes, well, the Maker sends us when and where he pleases,” Niero said, offering his arm even as he refused to accept any offense. We knew this stranger to be one of us, felt it in the core of our gut. Ailith. Just as Tressa was, above us. Our armbands hummed, echoing our unmitigated joy, our strange sense of reunion with unmet relatives.

  “Killian,” the man said, offering Niero his arm. As Killian brushed a coil of his shoulder-length dreadlocks away from his dark eyes, I bristled at his manner. Cocky. Brash. Edgy. If the elders had chastised Vidar in all his good humor, what would they do with this one?

  Niero gripped his arm in greeting. “Tressa’s knight. We knew you must be close. I am Raniero of the Valley.”

  “Our captain, I presume?”

  “If you accept my leadership,” Niero said, studying him. I noticed, then, the deep shadows beneath Killian’s eyes, the drawn look. He’d clearly had some sleepless nights.

  “Accepted,” Killian said, giving Niero a slight bow as he released his arm.

  “Forgive me, brother,” Niero said, “but I’ll need to see your mark. Just to be more than certain.”

  Killian considered him a moment, then casually lifted his woolen shirt, loosened his belt and folded down the edge of his trousers to show us the crescent moon directly above his right hipbone. Exactly where ours were.

  “Sorry. One cannot be too careful.”

  “Understood.” His eyes shifted up toward Tressa.

  Niero made the introductions to the rest of us and inquired if Killian had seen Ronan about, or heard any word about him or of Sheolite trackers.

  Killian shook his head, and his eyes slid over to me. “This is your knight he speaks of, woman?”

  I swallowed an irritable retort. My name’s Andriana. Did you not just hear — “Yes.”

  “Then he shall do everything he can to get back to you.”

  “Agreed,” Bellona said. “If he yet lives. Once we knights have bonded with our Remnant, nothing can keep us from our task.”

  “You always say the sweetest things,” Vidar said dreamily, hand over his heart. She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes.

  “Please,” I said, ignoring Vidar’s humor, still pained over Bellona’s words. If he yet lives. She said it as if she didn’t care. And Vidar responded in kind. “Let us not speak with anything but of hope about him. You are with me on this, yes?”

  One by one, they all gave me a sober nod. Then Niero looked to Killian. “What’s your plan to free her?”

  “I’ve tried ten different ways of breaching the castle walls, and this is the only way left to me. I’m fairly adept at climbing, but I have lacked a diversion …”

  I volunteered immediately, knowing exactly what would distract the vast majority of those in this city. I knew Bellona would never be willing — it would hurt her pride too much. But a part of me thrilled at the thought of striking out, hair down, without a man to lead me in this wretched city. I was all wound up inside, a coil of irritation and fear and loss.

  “Are you certain, Dri?” Niero asked, pulling me aside.

  I stilled. Only my parents and Ronan called me that. But I nodded quickly. “It will feel good to do something tonight. It will be okay. I promise,” I said. “Our trainer did his work well. I am adept with the sword.”

  “See that you are.” We went through the plan one more time, and as he spoke I touched each of my weapons. The sword on my left, so that I could draw with my right. A dagger on my right. Two more in my waistband, a third at my calf.

  “You really think you can do this?” Vidar asked him, as Killian shouldered a heavy, long coil of rope. “Simply climb up there and save her? How will you get her back down?”

  “The Lord of Zanzibar has seen challenge from outside the walls aplenty. But do you know how long it’s been since he’s been challenged from within? Years. They grow complacent, lazy in their power,” he said, thrusting his chin upward. His eyes narrowed as he saw two soldiers taunting Tressa. The only thing we heard from that distance was the faintest of laughs, but I could see Tressa’s wince. I hadn’t seen such fair skin as hers ever, really. Did it come from living beneath the ground so much?

  “Get me close enough with my pistols, and I’d take care of them,” Vidar said.

  “No. No bullets. If they know we have bullets, they’ll be twice as apt to give chase,” Niero said.

  “Really, Niero,” Vidar complained. “Do you have to take the fun out of everything?”

  “Ready?” Killian asked me, ignoring Vidar’s antics, his eyes not leaving Tressa.

  I bent over and ran my fingers through my hair, scrunching it, giving it volume, then stood up quickly so it flowed around my shoulders.

  Vidar laughed. “I hope Zanzibar is ready. For her women are rising in the prettiest of ways.” Bellona hit him in the belly with the back of her hand and I smiled as I heard the soft ooph of his escaping breath. “What? What did I say? I meant it as a compliment!”

  His voice faded behind me as I turned the corner and walked confidently down the street. Strutting, really, my pace long. Carefree. As if I were but a girl just past her first decade, skipping into the forest. As if I weren’t walking directly into the lion’s den, I thought with a grim smile.

  I saw them coming, torches raised, but didn’t slow my pace. A patrol. I had to stop them, distract them, keep them from turning the corner, and hopefully draw the attention of those above as well. With grim pleasure, I saw them falter from their measured march, frowning as they saw I was coming directly at them, not stepping aside. A woman alone, without her mate.

  They were nearly upon me. I sensed their outrage, as well as their fascination as I walked directly between them, splitting their group in half. They sputtered and found their voices, yelling at me. One grabbed me and I pulled away. My action enraged him, and his face pressed into a snarl. “Papers, woman.”

  “I have no papers,” I said, sweetly smiling up at him.

  His mouth dropped open. “No papers … What’s your name?”

  “The Maker knows my name.”

  “She’s mad,” said one. “The Cancer, probably. I’ve seen it before, taking the brain — ”

  I smiled at him, waiting, waiting for them to understand.

  “Nah, she’s womanflesh from Sixth, wandering far afield.” Lust. I shivered at the recognition of it within him, wanting me.

  “Her clothes are too fine,” said another, touching my coat in admiration. Coveting.

  I slapped his hand away and turned, pulling my sword at the same time. I waved at one, then another, lazily jabbing at them as if I was unfamiliar with the weapon.

  The soldiers cried out, half in dismay, half in delight. Surprise. Challenge. Desire.

  “The desert flower stings!”

  “Bah. Take her down,” said the captain. “We’ll toss her into the dungeon and sort it out come daybreak.”

  They separated, and that was when I finally saw him. Ronan, held between two burly guards, head hung as if injured, blood dripping down his face. But his eyes met mine for one split second and I knew joy, blissful hope. He was not as injured as he feigned. But he needed me. Needed me to free him.

  “You go after her, Jarno,” said one. “It’s your turn. And even you could take this mark.”

  Jarno, a big man with a bigger belly, scowled at his companion, clearly not appreciating the jibe. He pulled his sword and edged it along mine. “All right. That’s enough, woman. Come along.”

  But as his sword reached the center of mine, I twirled my blade around and sent it flying over the heads of the others. T
he others hooted in surprise and laughed. Even the captain snickered under his breath. High above us, we heard the calls of other guards on top of the wall, saw that they drifted toward my section of the wall. It’s working. Even their eyes are on me. Go, Killian. Go.

  The captain shook his head and waved two others in after me. I dropped my sword at their approach, making them relax and think I was giving up, then slammed my left fist into the first man’s face before turning and roundhouse kicking the second into the other, sending both to the ground. I tried to ignore the throb in my left hand. Had I broken a finger? Two? But worse were the echoes of the soldiers’ pain and dismay I felt reverberate within me, something that had never happened before. I gasped against the emotion, tripling my own sensations.

  Anger. The others pounced on me, their laughter fading, and within moments the captain grabbed my arms and wrenched them behind me. I lifted my legs and kicked off the nearest man, sending him to the ground, unbalancing the captain behind me as well. We fell backward. The captain roared in frustration as he shoved me off of him, then rose and pulled his sword.

  I bent over, reeling not from battle but the continuing, rising wave of emotion around me, layered and pulling, weighing me down like nets over a fish. Desperately, I reached for my sword and staggered to my feet.

  The captain advanced on me and I knew what he felt then too. Hatred. Humiliation. He stalked closer, bringing the point of his sword toward my chest as I struggled to bring my own sword up to meet his.

  I glimpsed Ronan, free of one man, battling another with the first man’s sword.

  Ronan!

  We can’t finish this too soon. With two of us we’re moving too quickly. Killian needed a few more precious minutes of distraction. Idle distraction. A woman alone, fighting like a man. But now my knight was with me, and even though I feared our timing, I could not shove down the shriek of gladness in my heart.

  The captain moved toward me, and I backed up, fearing what I felt inside him more than his sword. It was my experience that humiliation made men the most difficult foe. He rammed his sword down at me then, and I narrowly parried his strike. He didn’t pause, whirling to whip his sword at me again, trying to eviscerate me across the belly.

  Except I knelt low and heard his sword whoosh past my head.

  His humiliation doubled, engulfing me like a dark cloud, and he let out a cry of rage and rushed me then, ramming me with his shoulder against the brick wall with his body, stealing my breath for several precious seconds as he backed away to raise his sword and finish me.

  Soldiers above us called out an alarm.

  Bellona was beside me then, blocking the Zanzibar’s captain’s strike inches from my chest, plunging her dagger into his belly while Vidar and Niero easily dispatched the rest of the Zanzibar patrol to their dark afterworld. As one, alongside Ronan, they turned and prepared for the next patrol rounding the corner, running our way.

  Six more men. Others would follow, responding to the alarm.

  “I do hope the Maker blessed this Killian with speed,” Vidar said, standing beside Bellona.

  “We must surprise them,” Niero said grimly, facing the patrol and eying the guards above. “Continue to distract. We charge.” He led us forward, letting out a battle cry.

  And after a second’s hesitation, we followed.

  CHAPTER

  7

  Together, we dispatched the next six, the last falling with some effort. Only Bellona was wounded, a slice across her belly that she seemed to largely ignore.

  Actually, the others dispatched them while I stumbled about, mostly on the edge, my mind and heart a swirl of emotion. Loss. Fear. Fury.

  Niero turned toward me and grabbed hold of my arms again, this time not in anger but in concern. “It’ll be okay, Dri,” he whispered in a pant. “Once we’re out of here, you and I will find a way to manage it.”

  He knew. How did he know? I wondered dimly. But the thought of it was again lost in the flood tide of emotion, threatening to sweep me away.

  Ronan had his arm around Bellona, holding her up. She pressed against the wound, blood oozing between her fingers. “It’s all right,” she said faintly, fighting to control her breathing. She slapped Vidar away, as if his attention embarrassed her. “I’ll be fine.”

  Vidar straightened, concern coming off him in waves, but his eyes moved up and over her shoulder. “Look!” We followed his gaze.

  The chains that had once held Tressa were empty. Killian had done it. But could they make it to our meeting point?

  We could see patrols charging toward us from both directions.

  “Uh, Niero?” Vidar said. “The next part of the mapo divino? Now would be a good time …”

  “This way,” a voice said from the shadows. Clennan, from the tunnel. “Come with me.”

  We had little choice. We turned and ran after him.

  Ronan took my hand and I winced, pulling away because it was the hand I’d used to pelt the Zanzibar soldier, but my heart again surged with gladness. He was alive. Well enough, even if he had blood caked at his brow and ran with a limp, obviously in pain. He was alive. Alive!

  He did not return my grin, only looked grim. Because of the pain? Confusion over my pulling away?

  We turned a corner, then another. We could hear the patrols behind us. Closing in.

  Our guide rapped on a door on Sixth Street and it opened. I wanted to shield my eyes from what I saw. Half-dressed women. Men passed out in a cloud of smoke. But they opened like a doorway of humanity and then closed in behind us, wordlessly shielding us even as we moved through another tiny trapdoor into the next building, then slid down a chute to the tunnels.

  We ran through a hallway and emerged back in Tressa’s hall among the sewers. The room erupted in quiet cheers.

  We’d made it. I couldn’t quite believe it. By all rights, we should be dead. Outnumbered. Outpowered. Maybe not quite outpowered …

  Tressa brought her hands to her lips as she watched us enter, one after the other. Killian stood behind her. “My brothers. My sisters,” she said, tears streaming from her eerily blue eyes. “How I’ve waited for this. Longed for this.”

  “Tressa of Zanzibar,” Niero said, standing in front of her. “We have come for you. Are you ready to receive your Call?”

  “I received it days ago,” she said, blue eyes shining. “But I am ready for what you are to bring.” She was truly beautiful, with auburn hair that waved around her shoulders, that pale skin, and big eyes. Nothing about her seemed sharp or dangerous, only soft, welcoming. She wore no weapon. How had she remained hidden all this time? Remained safe? In a city so hungry for women exactly like her?

  There was no answer but the Maker. And Killian. My eyes slipped to her knight.

  “We have little time,” Niero said. “We must be away while we still have cover of darkness. Kneel, Ailith Daughter, with your Remnant kin. Stand behind her, Ailith Son, with your fellow Knights.” Bellona eased Killian’s coat from his shoulders and we knelt in a circle, feeling stronger by the moment as we smiled at everyone who formed it.

  Niero returned with two armbands, nodding toward Clennan. The man reached for them, mouth agape as they glittered in the lamplight. I’d almost forgotten how mesmerizing they were without the protective covering of oil. Niero gave him a quiet word and gestured for the second man, Tyree, to come near. They moved to Killian and Tressa’s right, waiting on Niero.

  Niero proceeded with a ceremony, within the pit of Zanzibar, and I felt my armband hum with pleasure, glory.

  The bands were clasped around our sister’s and brother’s arms. Tressa let out a soft sigh of pain. Killian cried out, sounding almost enraged. And then the lamps about us — only three flames, far smaller than we’d had in the Citadel — grew high like massive bonfires, flooding the room with light, washing us all with the beams, stealing our breath with the heat.

  In a moment it was over, the lamps returning to their normal inch-high, dancing flames, as the fifty
around us stared with wide eyes. I knew their surprise and wonder as my own.

  But as Tressa rose on Killian’s arm, she was not the only one to be set to rights. One by one, those afflicted with the Cancer sat up, rubbing their chests and bellies. Confusion, joy, and hope surged around me, taking my breath as surely as the flames had a moment before. I turned in a slow circle. Could it be?

  My eyes settled on the little girl that I’d spoken to earlier, who’d been in such agony. She now sat up on the edge of her cot and swung her legs back and forth, face lit up in delight.

  “My belly,” Bellona said, lifting her shirt to show us the wound sustained minutes ago, now but a harsh, red line in her white skin. I might’ve thought I’d imagined the whole thing had not crusty, dry dark blood remained around it.

  “My fingers,” I said, gazing at my left hand, suddenly recognizing the pain was gone.

  “And my leg,” Ronan said, leaning hard on it, looking almost angry, he was so confused.

  I saw Niero smile. “And so it has begun. Our healer has become one with us. And leaves those she loved whole behind her.”

  “Not all are to be left behind,” said the first man from the tunnel, straightening his shoulders. Clennan. “I believe we are to go with you.” He gestured toward Tyree. “We have much to tell you. There is much yet for us to do.”

  Tressa and Killian confirmed his words with a nod, and Niero seemed to accept their word without question. But Vidar cast me a wide-eyed look. Apparently I wasn’t the only one worried that these two aged men could keep pace with us.

  “We must get clear of this place,” Bellona said, voicing my own thoughts. “Are you in good enough health to travel with us?”

  “I hope so,” said Tyree. “For if they find us here in Zanzibar, we shall meet our death anyway.”

  “Why?”

  “We are the protectors of your new Ailith kin. I raised Tressa and Tyree raised Killian, right here in the city,” he said, “when their own parents were killed.”