One of the raiders took off running. Cianan's arrow struck him down from behind afore he reached the edge of the camp. Kikeona slid to a stop and Cianan hit the ground running. He drew his own blade as two more bandits rushed him. He parried the first down stroke, but the two separated and attacked from both sides.
Maleta threw a knife at another fleeing bandit. He fell face-first in the mud. She ran up to the merchant and his wife. Both dead. "Hedda, I'm sick of this. Where does it end? Cowards," she thought with contempt – robbing and slaughtering an unarmed couple, fleeing when confronted with well-armed people who could fight back.
She scanned the campsite. Cianan fought two at once but held his own. Kikeona rounded up the scattered horses. The back of Maleta's neck prickled a warning. She whirled and blocked the down stroke of a bandit's sword. Judging by the quality of his armor, their leader. The force of his blow knocked her down, but she rolled free and rose.
"Shoulda stayed out o' this, wench," he growled, thrusting the point of his sword at her face. "'Tis no concern of yers."
She knocked the blade aside. Hedda's Sword gleamed golden in the fading sunset. "That's where you're wrong, dog," she spat. "The slaughter of innocents is exactly my business. Prepare to meet Hedda's justice." She swung her weapon. He blocked it. She kicked out, swept his legs out from under him. Stepping on his sword, she laid Hedda's Sword against the bandit's throat. His eyes widened as all his sins rushed back to greet him – every theft, every murder.
Her own eyes widened as well. No mere bandit, this, but one of Sunniva's guards, sent to entrap Cianan. Sent to kill him. Sunniva had changed her mind about wanting Cianan alive. Maleta said the ritual words: "I stand here as judge, jury and executioner. You've been found guilty of murder. Give my regards to Hedda." She thrust the tip of the sword through his throat and turned to check on Cianan. "Watch out!"
He dropped the first of the two bandits, whirled on the second. A hair too slowly – his attacker ducked under his reach to bury his knife in Cianan's side. Cianan brought his own sword up, impaling the bandit on the blade, but the damage was done.
Kikeona shrieked and galloped to his side.
"Cianan!" Maleta screamed, running across the campsite.
Cianan yanked his sword free and the dead bandit slumped to the ground. He pulled the bloody knife from his side and frowned. "Fear not, elingrena, it is but a scratch. I have been wounded far worse."
Maleta couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong.
A puzzled look crossed his face, and Cianan slid sideways and crashed to the ground.
Kikeona nuzzled him, making anxious whickering noises. Man and horse seemed to shimmer, shift. The mare glowed like a steed from legends – to Maleta's own eyes, not to Goddess-sense. Which meant anyone could now see them as they were.
Maleta knelt aside Cianan in the mud, slid her arm under his neck. "What's wrong? What's happening?"
Slanted cobalt eyes stared up at her, the mask of the man gone. "So... cold. Seeming failed – cannot hold it together," he whispered.
Fear seized her. "Wiggle your toes."
"Are you asking me to dance?" A violent shudder cut off Cianan's teasing tone. "Dracken rue, it hurts!"
She pulled his shirt up to reveal telltale purple tendrils spreading out from the knife wound. "Oh, Hedda, no. Not that. You can't let it be that." She schooled her face into stillness as she met Cianan's gaze. "Can you move your feet?"
He stared at her. "I just did. Nothing?"
"Nay. I'll rebuild the fire. We've got to keep you warm." She dragged him aside the fire and covered him with both their cloaks. He looked faded and grey and trembled uncontrollably. "Don't you go and die on me." Tears burned her eyes. She felt Hedda's ice rise, and fought it. "Oh, no, You don't. Not this time." She brushed a lock of hair from Cianan's forehead. "We need you. I can't do this alone."
Cianan's eyes glazed with an unspeakable pain. "I thought you... did not require aid... from anyone, elingrena."
Kikeona nuzzled him. Sweat broke out across his forehead, tinged with blood. Maleta thought her eyes must be playing tricks on her as the mare's glow brightened. The lines of pain around Cianan's mouth eased.
"We have to help him, Hedda. He tried to help us." Maleta's red-hot fury shattered Hedda's wall of ice. "I lied." With shaking hands, Maleta poured water from her waterskin on her sleeve so she could wipe his face. "You can't leave us."
Cianan grimaced, his voice a whisper. "Knife was poisoned."
"Aye. Darkweed. Popular assassin tool. Sunniva sent them to kill you. The merchant was the bait." She swallowed hard around the lump in her throat. "There's no known antidote – why we use it."
"Ah." Another shudder shook his body. He arched his neck, fighting what Maleta had been told was horrific pain. Darkweed paralyzed the muscles, stilled the heart and lungs.
Death came brutal and quick. She had no idea how he clung to life so long. His strength of will did him no favors. It but prolonged the agony. Maleta wavered. With no antidote it'd be quicker, and a kindness, to end it –
Kikeona flattened her ears and speared her with a glance full of malice, almost as if she'd caught the thought. She left Maleta with the unmistakable impression if she made a move in that direction, the mare would stomp her into a rug. A very flat, very bloody rug.
Cianan caught Maleta's hand in his. "I can try... to trance-heal myself, elingrena. Works with wounds. Do not know... if it works... with poisons." His gaze held hers. "Do not... interfere. No matter what. She shall kill you. Mission or nay." His eyes closed, and he relaxed – as much as the pain would let him. His lips moved in a silent prayer.
Maleta turned away to draw her sword. She eyed the darkness beyond the firelight. The fact she guarded a dead man was not lost on her. Her heart ached. She'd never heard of anyone surviving a darkweed strike, priest or nay. At least he was guaranteed a shining afterlife. It would take a miracle to turn the tide now.
"You sent him to us for a reason. Our task isn't done yet. Stay Your hand, I beg You."
"Help arrives, My Own. Remember. Do not stray again."
The cold within vanished. The contrast staggered her.
The roar of a whirlwind sounded behind her, and the light increased a hundredfold. Maleta whirled to see her innocent campfire flare skyward to three, four times her height. A form shimmered into view within the flames, solidifying into something woman-shaped. She stepped barefoot from the fire, falling to her knees to vomit.
Maleta raised her sword as her gaze took in a scaled, red-haired woman garbed in velvet robes befitting a queen. Seeing Maleta's raised sword, she hissed and brought up her own clawed hands. The red stone in the gold torque around her neck glowed, and dark fire crackled around her fingertips. Maleta took one step forward. "Keep away from him, demon!"
"Stop!" Like a flash of white lightning, Kikeona moved betwixt them.
Maleta shook her head, her ears ringing from the mental shout. What the... "Out of – "
" – my way, Kikeona."
Maleta stopped as the stranger finished the command. A shiver shot up her spine. The woman resembled the fire-wielder in Cianan's sword-vision. "How do you know them?" she demanded. "Who are you?"
"Dara te Sheena, queen of the eastdawn elves – his best friend's wife," the odd-looking woman snapped, lowering her hands. Her uncanny gold eyes narrowed as she rose to her feet. "Kiki, step aside so I can see."
"Are you flesh, or are you spirit?" Maleta demanded. She squawked as Kikeona shoved her aside so the newcomer could make her way to Cianan.
Dara knelt by Cianan's side. "We're losing him. What happened?"
"Darkweed – assassin's poison," Maleta reported. "Muscle paralytic. There's no antidote."
"Oh, we'll see about that. You don't escape us that quickly, ranger." Dara closed her eyes and collapsed, limp as a child's discarded rag doll.
Maleta's skin crawled as Dara stilled. She gripped her sword tighter as she felt a swirl of energy like a hot summer breeze.
It came from Kikeona, from the campfire, and flooded Dara's prone body. Maleta gulped as a gold mist left the queen's body and vanished into Cianan's.
Healer energy, she decided, moving to gather more wood for the fire. Removing the poison from Cianan's system, strengthening a weakening heart, reversing the damage – it would take a miracle. Maleta trembled, unable to feel Hedda's grip. Was She gone?
The clouds cleared. The Bear shambled its way across the heavens and down into the tree line. Maleta used it to mark the passage of time in the clear, cold night while she gathered wood and kept the fire tended.
Being surrounded by all the prone bodies, most of them dead, felt decidedly creepy. She dragged a bed out of the wagon, laid the old merchant and his wife on it and covered them with blankets. She piled the dead bandits downwind and stripped them of their armor, weapons and any and all valuables. The confiscated goods she piled into the wagon. They could use the merchandise and money to help pay for the mercs.
It'd be best to burn the bodies. Maleta stole a burning brand from the campfire and started two separate pyres afore returning to her vigil. Her heart ached. So far their quest to drive out Sunniva proved a stunning success. The strongest among them had fallen and Sunniva remained in control. She still held Jovan prisoner and worked to eradicate the Shamaru.
But half the Bear shone visible when Dara stirred. Immediately, a stream of fire, hurled by an unseen hand within the campfire, shot into her. Nay, Maleta corrected herself, into the red stone in the torque, which glowed with the infusion of raw energy. Dara blinked her uncanny gold eyes and sat up.
Aside her Cianan groaned.
Disbelieving, Maleta dropped aside him in the next heartbeat. "Still with me, priest?" she whispered. "How do you feel?"
He opened his eyes and raised a shaking hand to her cheek. "Almost... alive," he croaked. "Nasty stuff, that. Bad dreams." He glanced over at Dara. "Am I still dreaming, vertenya? "
"You must be. If this were real life I'd kick your butt for almost getting yourself killed!"
Kikeona nuzzled him.
"How... did you know?"
"Loren," Dara replied. "Let me tell you, feeling you dying half a world away got his attention in a hurry. He sent me forthwith. I'd better let him know you're still with us."
Maleta took Cianan's hand in hers. Hot tears, unchecked by Hedda, splashed onto his fingers, and he moved to brush them away. "Tears for me, elingrena? "
Dara's head snapped around at that word. She looked over Maleta with renewed interest. "So I've been told. Best of luck with that, ranger. I sensed no binding. It would have helped to ground the healing. See to it. Soon."
"Aye, ma'am." Cianan saluted. "Vertenya, I owe you more than I can ever repay – "
She waved it off. "Friends don't owe each other anything. That's what friends are for." Dara staggered to her feet. "I'd love to stay, but I have to get back. There are rules about how much magical interference this part of the world can take – bossy gods, or so I've been told. Who knew?" She placed her hands on Cianan and Maleta's shoulders. Maleta felt a rush of hot energizing power flow into her. "There." The queen stepped back into the fire. "Come visit us when all this is over, little sister," she invited Maleta, and vanished.
Maleta rubbed her arms. She stared at the fire for a long moment, then shook herself back to sense. Retrieving her waterskin, she poured a cup for Cianan. "Take a drink."
He drained the cup and lay back. "This must have been quite a... shock."
"What? Fire dragons raising elves from the dead?" She waved her hands. "Happens all the time. Just not to me."
"Are you angry?"
"Right now, I'm glad you're alive," she admitted. "Later I'll be angry. Are you sure you still wish to help?"
"I came to help. At least this time there are no demons." He shuddered. "One human queen should prove easier. I did not expect a poison my body could not overcome."
"Are you sure you don't want to go home?"
"Are you still going to face Sunniva?"
"Aye."
His gaze was fierce. "Where you go, I go."
* * * *
The tension in Maleta gave Cianan the mother of all headaches. Kikeona kicked at her when Maleta passed too close. "Enough," he ordered. Maleta cared if he lived or died. She had stood up to Hedda, and won. He stared at Maleta, once again the woman she had been. Hedda's frost had vanished. It gave him hope.
"She has a strange way of showing her affection. She considered killing you, warrior. You do recall that part, do you not?"
Cianan shook his head. He recalled the agony of dying, and the fleeting desire to release him that had nearly cost Maleta her own life. Dara's intervention had been a near thing. "Warrior's Way," he sent to his partner.
"Not on my watch." Kikeona shook her head and sighed.
"I would like us to be friends and work together." They needed to move on by morning, to get Cary afore the appointed time.
Maleta rose from the fireside log where she'd been sitting, laying down the sword she'd been cleaning with an oiled rag and sharpening stone. Not that the toshi blade needed sharpening, but he recognized her need for mind-clearing by repetitive action. He knew her uncertainty of him, of his expectations. In this world where everyone had a price, no wonder Maleta assumed he, too, would have an agenda. He thought that loss of innocence the greatest tragedy of all.
Cianan saw Maleta hesitate. A guarded look crept into her eyes. It drove him to distraction, the wariness that dogged her steps, every time he tried to get a little closer. A defensive wall that had nothing to do with Hedda. He was through avoiding the issue.
"Why do you not trust me, Maleta?"
Chapter Fourteen
Maleta stared at him, defiance over fear. She was going to try to bluff her way out of a straight answer. He saw it in her eyes. "I don't trust anyone, priest."
"Aye, you do," he pushed, frustration making him relentless. If she did not trust him, the chances of that horrific vision coming true increased tenfold. He would be unable to save her, and the emptiness he returned home with would be unbearable. "As Hedda's Sword you trust your sisters. You trust those you rescued to keep silent. You trusted Mother Tam."
"You aren't Mother Tam." Her face flushed, her eyes glittered. "I hardly know you."
Lord and Lady, she made him forget to breathe. "You saw me through your sword. You found nothing to condemn me, or I would be dead by your hand."
"I'm trusting you now. Believe me, that's no small thing."
"With the mission, aye, Hedda's Own. After Nerthus' Abbey you dare not." He frowned. Best pull back from that edge right away. No sense provoking both of them into a shouting match over what she could not help. "But you, Maleta, do not trust me, Cianan. Goddesses and missions aside, always you are wary, always you pull back."
She stared at him, the conflict in her eyes breaking his heart. He saw the question form, felt her hesitate. "Did you put me to sleep last night?"
"Careful," Kikeona warned.
He did not need an empath's powers to feel the anxiety rolling off her like a dark cloud. For one who had had all her power and control stripped away, what could be worse than someone doing it again? The fact he had not forced, but coerced, was a fine hair he knew she would not split. That he had done it for her own good made no difference. Hedda thought the same.
"I did not," he told her. "What I did do was take away the pain and grief for a night. I claimed your nightmares as my own. Without all that weighing you down, your own body relaxed enough to sleep. You fell asleep on your own. I merely made it possible."
She came over to his makeshift bed on the ground. She stopped out of reach and squatted down, still able to spring away. Always prepared, always wary. Only once had he seen her with her guard down, on that night when they had met back up in the abbey. He would give anything to see that Maleta again.
"Why would you do this?" Puzzlement clouded her gaze.
A declaration of undying love would send her runn
ing. "If I can help ease someone's burden, I have to do so."
"A vow, priest?"
He smiled and shook his head. "More of a personal moral. I think my habit of noble interference is what caught Her eye, and She made me Her champion as a result, not the other way around. She gave me more power to do so."
"Who's Tegan?" Maleta blurted out.
He blinked. That question he did not expect. "Tegan te Lacey?"
"The sword showed me two women you saved from mortal peril," Maleta pressed. "One I met last night. Tegan was the other."
"Tegan te Lacey was a fourteen-year-old kitchen maid possessed by a demon." His jaw tightened as he recalled the image of the mutilated man on the rack, the screams as Tegan transformed yet another lost mortal soul into a demonic ba-pef warrior, with knives and chains and her own fatal kiss.
Maleta's voice shook him back to sense. "You saved her from that?"
"The Lady of Light saved her from that. Loren, Dara and I helped." Cianan paused, then pressed the issue foremost in his mind. "You also fight for the Light. You challenged your goddess on my behalf."
Maleta shook her head. "She let me go. And I didn't save you. Your fancy witch-queen did."
"Dara healed me," he agreed. Quicker than she could react, he leaned over to grasp her hand in his.
She didn't move right away. Shock flashed in her eyes, then they narrowed in anger. "So eager to test those self-healing skills, priest? You might wish to call her back. Release me, or I vow you'll need a healer again."
The scent of her fear warred with the strength of her hand. She trembled with the conflict. He saw her heart pounding in her throat. "Giving me a fair chance by forewarning me? How sporting of you," he teased. His thumb slid across the petal-soft skin gracing the back of her hand, so at odds with the sword calluses on her palm.
She gave a half-hearted tug. "What do you think you're doing?"
He stared at her instead of answering. Chain mail and armor, the scar on her cheek, bloody bits in her hair. He remembered that night in Nerthus' Abbey, the way the firelight and the soft material of her nightgown had hinted at the womanly curves she hid with the garb of a warrior and the cold persona of Hedda's Own. He turned her hand over, tracing the parallel scars.
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