So much, so fast. "What is all this?"
"What I left behind."
Maleta shuddered and her fingers tightened around Hedda's Sword. "What are they?"
"What we guard against. We are all that stands betwixt your world and them." Cianan's voice was grim. "Pray the Light holds against the darkness. No matter what your Mother Kitta states, there is no balance betwixt the two. In my world, beyond the barriers, there are creatures of Light and creatures of dark. Only in the world of men does the grey exist. Only men can be either or both."
She pressed the sword harder. "What of you?"
A thousand petty jealousies and insults, pranks, schoolboy fights. A lifetime – centuries – of study and teaching, of poetry and songs. Drinking. Gambling. Rivalries with warrior companions. Strange funeral rites, familiar fasting and unfamiliar prayers. Pride. Lust.
Maleta shied away from the last. There had been lots of women, and more than a few broken hearts he regretted. He had never raised a hand against a woman. Neither had he spoken ill of one nor taken what was not freely offered. On two instances he had risked his life defending a woman in mortal peril – one of them the fire-wielder.
Underlying it all, an unshakable belief in the power of Light, the unswerving conviction he could make a difference in his world. She sensed the basic goodness that had made him the chosen champion of a goddess. This was a warrior who didn't know the meaning of the words betrayal, impossible and quit.
The vision changed to another scene of horror. Her heart seized as she saw... herself, holding a flaming sword aloft. She stood atop a hill of bones, surrounded by a boiling river of blood and an advancing army of skeletons. Their tattered cloaks were pinned in place by bronze marigolds with snarling wolf faces. She watched as the skeletal army surrounded her. She watched herself fall beneath their blades.
"What evil is this?" Her voice shook.
"The vision that brought me here."
"I die?" She choked. "You've come here to watch me die?"
"Never." He grabbed her by the shoulders. Sword-vision or no, she could feel his hands on her shoulders. "I came here to prevent your death."
"What manner of creature are you to challenge fate?"
"The same fool who joined in a fight against a demon, who charged again and again against the troll-goblin hordes bent on destroying all that is whole and good in this world."
The sword could find nothing to convict him. Nothing. She faced true nobility for the first time in her life. The Light faded, and Maleta's consciousness returned to the chapel, to Mother Kitta and to Cianan as she had first seen him. Maleta lowered the sword.
She stared at him. Her eyes saw the man, but her mind and heart now saw the elf beneath the mask. "How do people not see you?"
"We call it a seeming, a mask of the mind that allows me to move about as one of you. I can mimic whomever I am around. I could appear as a large goblin or a small troll, but my size would give me away. Humans are much easier." He stared at her, hard. "You see what you wish to see."
Maleta flinched at his reprimand. "The perfect spy." She mulled her newfound knowledge over. Still the same, yet forever changed. What lay beyond her known world? There were other evils in the world, greater than the one she faced.
Knowledge was power. The question was, how best to use it?
"Sunniva is evil enough," Cianan stated. "She destroys all she cannot control. Whether in Hedda's name or by the power of Light, she must be stopped." He turned to Mother Kitta. "Why send Maleta out alone, when two committed to the same task are twice as powerful? You know what I am. I can protect her."
"It's not for me to decide whether she continues as Hedda's Own," Mother Kitta retorted. "She broke her vows, her sacred blood oath. That charge stands unaddressed."
Cianan growled as he raked a hand through his hair. Frustration poured off him in waves. "Your arrogance, old woman, is unbelievable! To punish a human for acting human is insanity. She was neither stripped of her memory, nor her emotions, yet you would punish her for possessing both? You would do well to judge the entire human race. Yet that is not in your power, nor that of your Goddess. So why punish one person if you shall not punish all?"
"She's no ordinary human. She swore a blood oath which sets her apart from the rest. A blood oath I, too, have taken. To put our own interests after those of Hedda's."
"The way I see it," Cianan snapped, "Hedda's and Maleta's demons converged. Sunniva. Were you faced with the one who had destroyed your home and family, how detached would you be?"
Mother Kitta glared at him, but did not deign to answer.
"I chased the wrong person," Maleta stated.
"Who led you to knowledge of the right person," Cianan argued. "Had you convicted him of universal wrong-doing, you never would have discovered the truth." He pointed to Hedda's Sword. "Sunniva must answer to Hedda for all she has done. Let Hedda judge her."
"First Hedda must judge Maleta," Mother Kitta intoned. "She faces this alone. You come with me." She led the way out the door.
Cianan took one last lingering look at Maleta and stalked out of the chapel after Mother Kitta. The door swung shut behind them. The latch dropped with an ominous clunk of finality.
The dreaded moment had come.
Maleta stood alone at the altar. She poured incense oil into the shallow chalice, careful not to spill any on the black silk altar cloth. Taking a tapered candle, she lit the oil and dropped to her knees. "Oh great Hedda, goddess of the grey, of equality and balance, please hear Your humble servant." She held the flickering candle afore her, hands shaking. Blood pounded in her ears. She had to remind herself to breathe.
Thunder rumbled. An icy wind, cold as death, roared through the chapel, through her mind. Like at the Wolf's camp. Every candle flame in the room died. The chalice alone survived the darkening. Maleta found herself in a fog-carpeted cavern of dripping grey stone, afore a dilapidated wooden bridge. A grey-shrouded figure guarded that bridge. Two red eyes burned within the cowl, in a face one moment beyond beautiful and the next skeletal and haglike.
Those eyes scorched Maleta. "I didst not think to find thee here so soon, My Own." No warmth touched Hedda's tone.
Maleta dropped facedown on the stone, shaking so hard her teeth chattered.
"Why art thou here?"
"To confess my error." Maleta swallowed hard.
"How so?"
"I pursued the Black Wolf on behalf of my family. I did not punish him for his crimes, but released him for his innocence of my accusations."
"Thou did," Hedda agreed. Ice gripped around Maleta's heart. "What gives thou the right? My cause is not something to be forgotten when inconvenient."
Her stomach churned. If she was dead anyway, she'd best speak now. But gathering the nerve proved harder than she'd imagined. "I'm part of this world. I'd claim the same rights as any other. If that makes me unworthy to be Your sword, so be it. But I'm still one of Shamar's people, and one of Sunniva's victims, and as long as I draw breath I swear to You I'll see an end to her reign of terror. I'll see my brother freed. He didn't ask for this. He's just a boy. One of Your children."
"Thou think to lecture Me about My children?" Hedda's armless sleeve pointed to Her bridge. "See how it faces the dark? Thou art to restore balance. That is thy charge."
Hedda did not say was your charge. The continued use of the present tense gave Maleta the first glimmer of hope. "I still can. Destroying Sunniva will bring balance to this land. Freeing Jovan and restoring Kunigonde will make Shamar strong again."
"Thou wouldst do this in My name?" Those red eyes were scorching hot. "Thou hast already committed the sin of pride."
"I have." Maleta's mouth went dry. "But I'm not wrong. Part of my heart still says Your purpose and mine are one and the same."
"Arrogance and blasphemy! Thou equate thy mortal bloodlust for vengeance on a divine scale?" Hedda's voice was cold and grim. "I, too, see this turmoil in thy heart. It shall trouble thee no more, My servant."
The ice encasing her heart tightened its grip on her soul. Maleta couldn't breathe. Her heart stuttered in her chest. Her ears rang. So cold, such dread and fear. So She'd chosen Maleta's death, after all. Who'd protect the people now? Who'd stand against Sunniva now?
"There is no 'I'. There is 'We'." Hedda's voice faded from Maleta's mind.
To Maleta's shock, the cavern disappeared and she found herself sprawled afore the altar. Gasping for air, cold to the bone. To her soul. She curled into a ball on the hard stone floor, seeking the strength to get up. Eventually she rolled over and staggered to her feet, stumbling to relight all of the candles.
The chalice stood cold and dark, the divine flame gone. She fumbled as she sheathed Hedda's Sword, kissed the altar cloth and went to open the door. "You can come in now."
Cianan froze in the doorway. Worried blue eyes widened with palpable shock. "Lord and Lady, what has She done to you?"
Mother Kitta shoved him aside to take a look for herself. "Hedda's will be done," she whispered. Her voice trembled.
Her face expressionless, Sister Reva stared, horror in her eyes.
"What's wrong with you people?" Maleta asked, irritation giving way to trepidation. She felt so cold! She wanted to lie under a dozen blankets afore a roaring fire. She reached up with icy hands to feel her face, her hair. "I've still but one head," she reported.
"There is a mirror out here in the hall." Cianan held the door open. "You had best look at what your Goddess considers fair punishment." A bitter twist to his mouth lent harshness to his voice.
Maleta stepped out into the well-lit hallway and stared with growing horror at the reflection in the mirror. A stranger with her eyes stared back at her. A pale stranger, pale as death, with colorless eyes and silver-frosted hair. Her entire body appeared to shimmer with winter frost. Fear gripped her. An icy fist closed around her heart until it stuttered, leaving her gasping. The ice took hold, and the fear receded. She felt a distant cold, no warmth at all. No fear after the shock, no sorrow. As if the lock on her body extended to her heart, to her soul.
Mother Kitta nodded to Sister Reva. "Hedda's Own. Hedda's Sword in truth, now. No more distractions." She turned to Maleta. "You have your charge, Hedda's Own."
"Restore the balance," Maleta intoned.
"You need rest," Cianan stated. He placed a hand against the small of her back to steer her away from the mirror.
Her body did not flinch from his touch. A small part of her soul did, deep within a corner of herself, but Hedda's power proved too great. "We have much to do in the morning," she heard herself say. "Send a message to Tzigana. Tell her to expect visitors tomorrow." She turned to Cianan. "I accept your aid, champion."
"I shall go to Tzigana myself," Cianan stated, "and take Jana with me." He stared at Maleta with sorrow and pity enough for both of them. "Until tomorrow, elingrena." He reached one hand toward her face. His fingers curled into a fist. With a pungent curse he turned and strode away.
"Rest, child," Mother Kitta said. "To your room now. You've had an eventful day." She and Sister Reva escorted her to her cell, where they helped her out of her armor and into bed.
That night, Maleta dreamed of trolls and goblins, of skeletons and black wolves, of a woman's mocking laughter and a boy's voice begging for mercy. Determination burned in her breast, but she didn't feel a thing. Not a single thing. And inside, a tiny voice screamed to be heard.
Chapter Nine
Cianan stormed out of the building into the moonless night. Neither the snow nor the cold wind tempered the rage burning within him. What had they done to Maleta? Where had she gone? Was she still somewhere within that cold, hard creature inhabiting her body, or had her true-spirit been banished altogether? Goddess, how he wished for Loren's empathic powers, to tell him something, anything, as to if and where Maleta hid.
A howl choked him, clawed to get out, but he remained silent. He slammed his fist against a marble pillar.
Hard.
Cold.
Like the new Maleta and everything else in this accursed land.
He buried his face in his arms. Goddess, he wanted to go home, afore he died from the lack of Light.
Hooves clopping on stone registered afore a soft muzzle came to rest in the curve of his neck. "You are not alone, champion." Kikeona's breath, sweet with hay, tickled his ear.
"I do not deserve that title." He turned and wrapped his arms around her neck, trying to take comfort from her nearness and warmth.
"The Lady thinks you do. She chose you, above all the rest. You dare call Her a liar?"
Cianan shivered, from the cold wind and his own doubt. "Never, but I did not think it would turn out like this. I cannot do this alone."
"You are not alone. I am with you, always. Partners, to the end."
Recognizing his own self-doubt did not make it go away, and he had dragged poor Kikeona down with him, into this dark pit of loneliness and despair.
She shoved him with her head, hard enough to make him stagger and catch himself against the pillar. "Enough. We cannot change what is. You have our situation. Now, what do we do about it?"
Urgency warred with futility. "We have two weeks until the storytelling. We cannot fix this alone." A calm flooded Cianan's whole being as he felt another presence. "Loren?"
"What has happened?"
Cianan groaned. "Everything has gone wrong, or rather, nothing has gone right. These people need my help, but Kikeona and I cannot overthrow Sunniva single-handedly." He sighed and shook his head. "Mayhaps with our army – "
"Nay." Loren's flat denial tempered. "I am sorry, but that is not possible."
Hot rage flared. Forget the king. How could his best friend deny him? "You were quick enough to come to Hengist's aid!"
"Against a demon. Mortals could not withstand the supernatural. That required our level of assistance. Sunniva, for all her evil, is mortal. She was born. She bleeds. She can die." Loren's tone brooked no argument. "I do not see the Shamari people rising up. You would have us fight for people who shall not do it themselves, for their own cause? You cannot ask that of your brothers. I shall not ask it of mine."
Kikeona snapped her tail. "They are afraid."
"Their fear is irrelevant." Loren was adamant. "We are not mercenaries for hire. I shall not leave our borders undefended against the dark to fight for people who refuse to stand by our side."
"Mercenaries." The mare's ears pricked. "Cary could get you in touch with more than Mrow and Ain. They might fight."
"What would you pay them with?" Loren sounded skeptical.
She tossed her head. "Sunniva's treasury. When she goes... away."
"Even their entire company would not be enough, payment or nay," Loren argued. "You need more men. Shamaru men and Shamari men fighting side-by-side for the land they share."
"Well, that would be interesting," Kikeona commented.
Cianan's head ached thinking about it. "They have to decide which is worse, Sunniva or each other."
"You... " Loren hesitated, as if choosing his next words carefully. "You could come home. I would not have you continue to beat your head against this rock."
Cianan shivered in the wind. "But she shall die without me."
"Many already have. What is this one to you?" Loren asked.
"She is elingrena. "
Cianan sensed Loren's surprise. "Leave it to you," the king stated. "Only you could find happiness in the ultimate challenge."
"I shall not leave her." Cianan crossed his arms and forced his jaw to relax.
"Nay, you shall not." Loren sighed. "So be it. Stay if you must. Rally them to fight if you can. It is the one hope you have of success. Lady be with you, champion."
"May the Light continue to lead you, my king." Cianan felt Loren's withdrawal. Kikeona continued to hold the Light, warming him as the snow fell. He should have grabbed his cloak. How that summarized his life – always rushing off without sufficient forethought. Thinking with his heart and not
his head.
"It is a miracle you survived long enough to meet me," Kikeona agreed.
Footsteps crunched on snow-dusted stone. "I thought I'd find you out here, my son." Mother Tam stopped aside Kikeona, laying a gnarled hand against the war mare's shoulder. In her other hand she clutched a lantern which somehow did not flicker in the wind. How did her robes not catch fire from that flame?
Cianan stared down at the tiny, age-wrinkled nun. "I greet you this night, little mother."
Her smile radiated peace. "I felt the conflict in your heart, my son. How can I help?"
"Have you seen Maleta? What they have done to her?"
"That's betwixt Maleta and her house. Hedda handles Her Own, in Her own way. It shouldn't concern you."
"But it does concern me, Mother." Cianan's frustration twisted beneath Mother Tam's calm. "They wrongfully punished her. I am to stand aside and do or say nothing?"
"Punished?" Mother Tam looked astonished. "Why does that word jump to mind? Are you so familiar with our ways?"
"What else am I to think? Maleta is buried in a walking glacier with her face and voice."
"Hedda isn't punishing Her Own."
"What then?" Cianan challenged.
"Why do you care?"
"She shall die in this fight, if none aid her. Even her own Goddess turns Her back."
Mother Tam shook her head, her calm unshaken. "Hedda doesn't turn Her back. Hedda's desperate to restore the balance. She'll do whatever it takes, refocus Her people any way She can. Time's running out, for us all."
"How do I help Maleta?"
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