Warsworn

by Elizabeth Vaughan

  Gracious Lady of the Moon and Stars, full of kindness, incline your ear to my plea, and She was, for I could see in the gathering dusk the first twinkling of a star over the mountains. But I couldn’t keep my eyes open to see Her gift because the sweat was in my eyes and burning them. I tried to wipe them on my sleeve again, but the cloth was soaked.

  Gracious Lady of the Moon and Stars, full of glory, guide me to a place in your garden and let me dwell there in peace. There’d be problems, I knew. My death would create such problems for Othur and the Kingdom. The cousins would try to claim the throne, and all would suffer thereby. But I couldn’t find the strength to care, I’d be in the garden of the Goddess with Father, and we’d abide in the peace of that place together. And Keir, my Keir, would be safe, wild and free on his Plains. I smiled as I saw him mounted on his black horse, galloping in the sun, wild and free and safe, oh Goddess, please let him be safe and well.

  At some point, I faded out and awoke to find Isdra arranging Epor’s body on a pyre that she had made of a table from one of the homes. She placed him close to the well, as if in a place of prominence. She was arranging his hair, and seemed to be speaking but I wasn’t sure. What I could see was that she had strapped Epor’s warclub to her back. I caught my breath at the sight.

  Finally she came to my side, and knelt to offer me water, and wipe my face. She took a long drink as well. “Almost done, Lara.” She stood, and seemed to look around with satisfaction. “A fitting tribute to my Epor.” She looked down. “I have only to light the fires, Lara. Be ready.”

  “You . . . you are sweating.” Fear bubbled in my chest.

  “With effort, nothing more.”

  Gracious Lady of the Moon and Stars, full of glory, embrace my soul. I closed my eyes, content. All my beloved family and friends would be safe, and Keir, my beloved Keir, he too would be well and strong. Tears flowed and I gave up fighting my sobs. He’s been so angry.

  Isdra stood before me, a silver figure in the moonlight. It was darker now, and I couldn’t really see her face. But I could see the pitch torches in her hand as she stood over me, burning brightly. She ran off, the flames leaving a trail of light and sparks behind her. The flames flared from the buildings as she passed, throwing the torches into the building. Flames danced on the edge of my vision.

  Sweat stung my eyes, and I struggled to keep them open to see her standing by Epor’s pyre. She threw back her head, warbling a cry, perhaps the cry of a hawk, or maybe just of her sorrow and threw the torch.

  The pyre exploded with light, and the smoke was fragrant with herbs that she must have found in the healer’s home. I coughed as the smoke reached me, closed my eyes. Almost over. Safe, they were safe. Gracious Lady of the Moon and Stars, full of glory, embrace my soul.

  “Warprize.”

  I found the strength to open my eyes to see Isdra kneeling next to me. Epor’s dagger was in her hand. My eyes focused on the bright reflections dancing on the blade.

  “I’m ready, Isdra.”

  She gave me a sad smile, and a nod. 1 closed my eyes as I felt her hand on my arm, and tilted my head to expose my neck. Gracious Lady of the Moon and Stars, full of glo—

  7

  Except Isdra had other plans.

  The blade sliced the binding that tied me to the windlass. She had me tossed over her shoulder and the babe’s basket in her hand before I understood what she was about.

  The flames were rising all around us, crackling at the dry wood, sparks jumping to the sky. Smoke was filling the air. I was gasping from the smoke and the realization that I was still alive when Isdra spun on her heels and ran for the main gate.

  “Isdra, NO!” I cried out, struggling against her hold, beating on her back with my bound hands. She didn’t understand the risks, she had to stop. Isdra grunted when I struck, but her pace never faltered.

  The gate must have been open, for she took me through it with ease. The light of the flames was replaced by a cool, velvety darkness. I couldn’t see for a moment, but I didn’t have to.

  Keir was there.

  All I could see was the ground, and Isdra’s legs through blurry eyes. But I sensed him, standing there, waiting just beyond the gate. I blinked through the sweat as he took me from Isdra’s shoulder and held me in his arms. For a timeless moment I rejoiced at the feel of his body as he drew me in close. Joy filled me at the sight of his face, but only for a brief instant before horror followed in its wake. “What are you doing?” I whispered.

  Keir didn’t answer, just looked at me, a strange light flickering over his stone face.

  “Oh no, no, Keir, beloved, why?” The sickness in my heart had nothing to do with the fever that racked my frame.

  The light came from torches that Marcus was holding, one in each hand. Isdra had put the basket down and was dragging brush in front of the gates. Keir moved back a few steps as Marcus began to set fire to the tinder.

  The babe fussed, and Isdra saw to her before she took the other torch from Marcus and moved off to fire more brush that was off to the sides. Even in my fevered state I could see that tinder had been set along the length of the walls.

  Frantic, I struggled to get Keir to release me, but he just tightened his hold. His strong arms didn’t budge, impervious to my struggles. “No, Keir, don’t do this.” I tried to push at him with my bound hands. “I wanted you safe, please, please—”

  “Hush.” His voice was soft, but firm. He tucked my head under his chin. I sagged against his chest, taking comfort from his strength for just a moment. But guilt and anger made me renew my struggle. He didn’t understand the danger, didn’t know what he was doing.

  “Hush,” he repeated, his voice warm and solid in my ear. His grip tightened to hold me still. “Save your strength, Lara. Fight the enemy, not me.”

  I cursed him then, using every phrase and word I could think of.

  “What does she say?” Marcus’s questions made me realize I was yelling in Xyian. I slumped back, all my strength spent, struggling to catch my breath. The heat of the flames, of Keir, no, of my own body was building and I burned. I put my head back against Keir’s chest, too exhausted to even weep.

  “She is displeased.” Keir’s voice was dry. “Isdra, report.”

  The voices around me continued as we moved. I wasn’t strong enough to care. Everyone in the village had died, and now Keir had condemned himself and Marcus.

  Isdra’s voice rose and fell as we moved. I could feel Keir’s muscles tense, holding me tight as he covered the ground with his long stride. The scent of his skin eased my headache. His voice would reverberate in my ear as he questioned Isdra, but I couldn’t concentrate enough to understand what they were saying. Just as well, I didn’t really want to hear a retelling of events or of the deaths. I kept my eyes closed so that I couldn’t see Keir’s face as he learned of my failure.

  Then we were within a tent, and I was lowered onto a bed. Warm hands moved over me. I opened my eyes to see Keir beside me. Isdra was still talking, repeating the portion of her tale that spoke of the steps I had taken with my patients.

  “Lotus? You are sure it was lotus?”

  I jerked at the sound of Gils’s voice. It couldn’t be, and yet when I slowly turned my head, he was there, with his red hair and gangly arms, with healing supplies on a table next to him and a very determined look on that freckled face.

  “No . . .” I whispered, and turned back as Keir removed my boots. “Oh, Keir, why have you done this? Why?”

  Keir looked up, his eyes glittering. “I will not lose you, Lara.” His voice was strong and urgent. “Fight this, Lara. Fight for me. For us.”

  A sound came from Isdra, and I shared her grief at hearing the same words she’d spoken to Epor but hours ago. I looked at her with eyes clouded with tears and sweat. “Isdra, why? Why do this?”

  “My Warlord commands, and I obey.”

  Anguished, I dropped my aching head to my chest and let a sob escape me. Keir knelt down beside me, and cut the bindi
ng on my wrists. “Oh Keir, you should have listened. You stupid man.”

  But Keir simply continued to undress me. “I listened, Lara. Iften has charge of the army, and they are about a mile off. We will remain isolated from them. We will care for you until you are well enough to continue to the Plains. All will be well, fire of my heart.”

  “Drink this.”

  I looked into Gil’s face. He stood there with a cup, trying to look so firm and competent. As I had felt the first time I’d dealt with a patient by myself. I licked my dry lips, looked at the cup, and then back at his youthful face.

  “It’s lotus.” He gave me the best stern look he had. “Drink.”

  I raised a trembling hand but Keir took the cup, sat next to me and urged me to drink. Not that it took much urging. I welcomed the drowsiness that the lotus would bring. As soon as the cup was empty, Keir finished stripping me, and urged me flat on the bed beneath a rough blanket. “She’s sweating, Gils.”

  “I will see to her.” Gils replied, the barest trace of trembling in his voice. “We will need more water.”

  “The stream is close. We can get more easily.” Marcus answered, gathering a few buckets. He paused to look at me with concern. “If the Sweat is as bad as you say, maybe we should cut her hair. It will be hard to keep clean, and will tangle.”

  “No,” Keir answered softly. He was beside me, running his fingers through my hair, pulling it off my face. “No need. I’ll braid it for her. I’ll not see it cut.”

  Marcus snorted, and left the tent. Isdra followed, but not before I caught a glimpse of her face, and saw her naked grief. Gils was busy getting his cloths ready. I stared up at Keir as he worked his fingers through my hair, and cradled my head in his hand. His fingers gently massaged my scalp, easing the headache even further. Or maybe it was the lotus starting to take effect. I seemed to be floating slightly, but I wanted to tell him. Sorrow filled my heart, and my eyes welled with tears. I’d killed him, my strong, handsome lover, killed him with my pride and arrogance. I reached out blindly, and felt his cool hand grasp mine. I concentrated, trying to focus as he lowered his face to mine. “Lara?”

  “It’s all my fault.” I whispered carefully. “I’m so sorry, so sorry.”

  “Lara,” his voice was soft and urgent, but the lotus pulled me away.

  “Papa? Papa!” It was so hot, so dark, where was Papa? The garden was withered and the sun seared my skin. I ran along the path, trying to find Papa. Xymund was behind me, so angry, so furious. He was going to kill me. I cried as he caught me, and struck out at my attacker. Papa’s voice cut through the fire, but he wasn’t talking to me, wouldn’t hold me. What had I done, that he was angry with me?

  “Papa? What is ‘Papa’?”

  “A name they call male theas. She thinks you’re her father.”

  “Her thea?”

  “Talk to her. Get her to drink something.”

  “Hush, Lara.” Papa’s voice sounded odd somehow, but it was deep and gentle and his cool hands touched my face. “Be easy. I am here, little one.” A cup clinked against my teeth. “Drink.”

  I swallowed as the water flowed into my mouth, easing the dryness within. I let myself relax back into Papa’s arms, soothed. I was safe, safe, Xymund couldn’t get me here. The flames could still hurt me though, and Papa rocked me in his arms.

  But when had Papa been so badly burned?

  I stood by the well in the village square, which was silent and dark. As I looked about, I saw the morning larks laying on the ground, their little legs stiff, their songs silenced. As I covered my mouth in horror, the doors of the buildings opened, and the dead began to emerge. They were moving slowly, murmuring over and over, stumbling toward me, their eyes glittering with rage.

  The door of the shrine opened and Epor stepped out, his gentle, smiling face easing my fears. I called out to him, and he started toward me. But as he grew closer, his face contorted into a snarl and he joined the villagers in their chant. “You killed us. You killed us.”

  “No, no, no, oh, Goddess, forgive me, please forgive me, Epor.”

  I pressed against the well, feeling the windlass cut into my back. They kept coming, pressing in, chanting their accusations. Rahel stood there, her arms raised, cursing me in a voice that rose to the skies.

  I turned, looking into the well, seeking escape. But the dead were there, too, their arms lifted as if to pull me into the depths. I cried out again, terrified and looked back to see Epor before me, his club raised to strike me down. “Epor, please don’t hurt me!”

  “Epor would never hurt you, Lara.”

  “She can’t hear you, Isdra.”

  Terrified, I sought a way to the gate. But the dead had piled themselves at my feet, their dead and dry carcasses pressed against my legs like cord wood. Xymund stood before me, the madness dancing in his eyes, with a flaming brand in his hand. “Die, whore.”

  He threw the torch at my feet, The flames flared up, I cried out . . .

  I burned.

  The castle was dark, but the stones were cool under my feet. I welcomed the silence and the quiet. But as I walked the halls the very stones began to warm, blistering my feet. The familiar halls became a maze where I wandered, lost and confused.

  “She’s stopped drinking.”

  I stumbled into the kitchen. Anna was there, lying on the floor, sweating and moaning. Othur was seated at the table, a mug of ale in one hand. When I touched his shoulder, he collapsed to the floor like a broken doll.

  “Her eyes are so sunken, like Epor’s.”

  I fled, running, crying out to the Goddess for aid. When I burst into the chapel, the benches were filled with the dead and dying victims of the sweat.

  Archbishop Drizen and Deacon Browdus stood before the statute of the Lady, their vestments drenched in sweat, dragging on the floor as they went about the service. Two acolytes, the men in Rahel’s loft, were assisting with the offering.

  “Can you think of anything else to try, young’un? From her teachings?”

  They all ignored my pleas and cries as they moved about the base of the marble statue. The cool peace of the chapel filled me then, and I sank to my knees. The Goddess reached out to me and with a glad heart I stretched out my hand to touch hers, wanting nothing more than the peace of her gardens, there to dwell forever.

  But her hand withdrew before it touched mine and it was only when I looked up into the Lady’s face that I realized that she was sweating too. Suffering as Her people suffered. The marble moved then, the Lady raised her arms and called out to her husband, the Sacred Sun, and the flames rained down on my skin.

  “I’s have an idea.”

  I burned.

  “. . . Death of earth, birth of water. . .”

  I burned.

  The heat within my body was all encompassing, and there was no escape. It was in my blood, in my lungs, and every limb of my body. I tried to lick my lips, to find some precious moisture in my mouth, but there was none. My tongue was a dry and lifeless thing, and my lips cracked and stung. I could feel the sweat under my breasts and behind my knees, but it dried as fast as it appeared. There was only heat and I burned. I tried to open my eyes, to see what was happening but there were only blurs about me. Nothing seemed to have any substance except the pain behind my eyes and the flames that licked my flesh. I tried to reach out but my hands grasped nothing but dry air.

  “. . . Death of water, birth of air . . .”

  I was flying beneath a field of blurry stars against a clear black sky. My eyelids rasped, dry and itchy, but still I stared at the blooms of light above me. There were figures around me, moving with me, chanting softly. I flew, but my hair hung heavy, seeming to brush against the tall grass. The heat was still with me, the hearth located in my chest. It was impossible to move with the weight that pressed me down. Each breath was an effort. All I could do was hold open my weary eyes and stare.

  “. . . Death of air, birth of fire . . .”

  The chanting was muted
, soft, as indistinct as my vision. It seemed somehow to first raise me closer to the sky, then lower me to the earth.

  I cried out as something cold bit my skin, surrounding me, covering me, stealing my breath and the heat from my body. My mouth opened as the flame died, and I sucked in great gulps of air, even as I rose high in the air.

  “. . . Death of fire, birth of earth . . .”

  Keir. It was Keir beside me, Marcus on the other side. I blinked as the water ran off my face. I was in their arms, cradled, being lowered back into water as cold as death. Keir was letting cold water trickle from his cupped hand onto my face, and I blinked as the drops hit my eyes. I felt clean. Clean and cold and alive.

  “. . . Death of earth, birth of water . . .”

  They lowered me again, into the stream, letting the heat flow from my body with the water. I was wrapped in a blanket and Isdra and someone else were holding my legs, chanting as they lifted me, dripping and gasping. Wet cloth clung to my body, as the hands supporting me lowered me into the water once again.

  “. . . Death of water, birth of air . . .”

  The waters flowed over me, driving away every breath and thought. My hair grew heavy, drawn away from my head as the current caught it, fanning it out in the water. My parched lips softened, and I ran my tongue over them, trying to get moisture into my dry throat. Keir used his cupped hand to dribble water into my mouth. I shuddered in relief even as the cold seeped into my very soul.

  “Enough.”

  Gils? Was that Gils? There was a reason that thought was important, a reason that it was wrong to hear his voice. But my concerns were wispy and I couldn’t keep them. They were pulled from me even as I was raised from the water. Before I could gather them back, I was dry and under warm furs and a hand was pressing softly on my heart. My eyes refused to open. A cup at my lips, a few swallows and the warm darkness welcomed me back.