by James Somers
Agnes nodded to Felonius and thanked him. She glanced at Andrea, who was watching us. Felonius started back out of the storeroom, waving merrily as though we were all the best of friends. It bothered me to watch him go, knowing the kind of criminal activity he was involved in, knowing that the High Guard was willing to turn a blind eye and compromise with such a wicked man. Felonius deserved the judgment and wrath of the Serpent Kings, but instead he would be rewarded.
We were left there in the storeroom with Andrea. We had our clothing picked out and bundled in our arms. She looked at us warily. “I will wait while you change,” she said. “I can have servants pack the other items for your journey, if you wish.”
Andrea was playing the role of servant well, but I could see fire burning in her eyes. This woman was a warrior and likely had been so for a very long time. She carried herself gracefully and her body was hard; not at all like the prissy girls fawning over Felonius. I wanted so much to know what had brought her to this.
Agnes barely regarded Andrea’s words. She was looking past the bodyguard façade, seeing the woman for who she really was. Agnes stepped closer to her, standing nearly nose to nose. “Yes,” she said. “I know exactly who you are, Andrea. You may not remember me, but I will never forget you. Know this: if not for the urgency of my mission, I would gladly finish what the High Guard failed to do years ago.”
Andrea looked into her eyes, but she did not flinch at her barely veiled threat.
“Agnes, what is it?” I asked.
She glanced back at me, and then walked away without explanation toward a bench on the far side of the storeroom. She found a basin and towels next to a well-pump. She pumped the handle a few times, filling up the basin. I watched Andrea as Agnes disrobed and began to wash herself with the towels and soap and water, cleaning away the grime of our last few days of travel before getting ready for what lay ahead.
Andrea did not speak to me, but her eyes betrayed her sadness. Perhaps there was even regret in her expression. I couldn’t be sure and I wasn’t bold enough to ask. I turned away from her, following Agnes to the far side of the room. I tossed my fur clothing on the ground and began to remove the dusty riding clothes we had worn from Babale. It felt good to shed them like a grimy skin. The air on my skin was refreshing. The water was cool, but it would feel good to be clean again. I turned to find that Andrea had left the storeroom; her steps so light that I had not even heard her go.
REFUGEES
A half hour later, female servants arrived to pack our gear and supplies for the journey to Thorn Mountain. They were older women who may have been slaves. Andrea arrived a short time later to inform us that it was time to go. She looked at me rather than face Agnes’ icy stare. I had no idea what she might have done in the past, but I couldn’t blame her for avoiding my partner. After all, Agnes had as much as threatened to kill her. And even though I had enjoyed a brief showdown with Andrea, I couldn’t help but be fascinated because I was looking at someone who had once been like me, but who was now living out in the world apart from the authority of our gods and beholden to none.
Not that I wanted to run from who I was. I simply didn’t realize someone like Andrea even existed. And I wondered if she might have answers to the questions that were running through my head recently. Agnes had already made it clear that she would not entertain my curiosity. I had nowhere else to turn.
I waited until we had arrived at a large warehouse sitting mostly empty except for a few carts full of furs and other dry goods. Near the far door a group of about thirty people were situated around a cook-fire with a black iron cauldron suspended over it on a stave. A woman was piecing bits of meat and vegetables into the pot—a last meal before the journey, I supposed.
When we arrived, Andrea spoke with one of the men, giving him a document sealed in wax. Apparently, Felonius had left the refugees under the impression that they needed his seal in order to have a hope of acceptance among Ezekiah and his Believers at Thorn Mountain. Andrea seemed to be explaining the document’s importance to the man who nodded thankfully for the great favor Felonius had done for them by taking their money. Little did they realize that Felonius probably couldn’t have cared less whether they actually made it to Thorn Mountain, or died in the wilderness.
Agnes made her way to the fire where the others were sitting. I stayed behind, seeming to casually walk apart from the group surveying our situation when really I was only waiting for Andrea to finish what she was doing. Agnes turned away from me when one of the women around the fire brought her a bowl of stew. She accepted it gratefully and was immediately ensnared by the woman into conversation.
I watched Andrea until she was done talking to the man and bid the group farewell. However, before she could depart I intercepted her. She looked wary of me, but I was smiling and trying to look as harmless as possible. “Andrea, I wanted to talk to you for a moment, if you don’t mind?”
“Mistress, you should have some food before your group departs,” she said. “The journey is long and you’ll soon wish you could enjoy such meals.”
I stepped in front of her. “Andrea, I’ve never met anyone like you—a wraith dancer no longer serving the Serpent Kings. I wondered if you would tell me what happened. How does Agnes know you and why is she so angry?”
Andrea looked as though she would withdraw, her expression stirring to sadness at the mention of her past.
“Please,” I begged. “I’ve had…questions recently and I don’t know who to turn to for answers.”
Andrea stood still, seeming to consider for a moment. She glanced toward Agnes, as did I. She was still caught up with the other woman.
I used to be like you, Mistress,” she said. “I was a wraith dancer and also the Captain of the High Guard many years ago. I do not remember Agnes, though she must have served under my command during the rebellion that took place in the northeast. We were fighting against superior weaponry…weapons taken from the old world. Many wraith dancers were killed trying to put down these rebels. The dragon, Moloch, came to our rescue and destroyed their army, decimating the entire region. But there were few of us who survived. Some were even killed by Moloch’s ensuing rampage.
“When all was said and done, I was blamed for our failure in the northeast. I was stripped of my rank in the High Guard and cast out from the priestesses of Moloch. Several assassins were sent in the weeks to come, but I would not give them my life. I disappeared, alone and unwanted, among the dregs of society in Tarris. I had no food and no shelter.
“It didn’t take long for me to find myself starving on the streets. Felonius found me and offered me work in his brothel.” She paused, wiping a tear from her eye. Then she became hard as stone again. “I had no choice but to accept. I had nothing else.”
Throughout her story, my eyes grew wide with wonder. Such a warrior going to waste, becoming a common harlot in order to survive. I could barely fathom it.
“In time, Felonius bit off more than he could chew with a rival in the trade. When this rival sent men to kill Felonius, I stopped them and saved his life. Since that day, he has employed me as a bodyguard only and increased my pay beyond room and board.”
I couldn’t help but give her a strange look. “But a man like Felonius—”
“Has given me some sense of worth again,” she interrupted. “I know what kind of man he is, but the dragons cast me aside. I had questions too.”
I reserved my judgment for a moment, curious what questions she might have asked in her situation. “What were they?”
“I only had the opportunity to voice one before assassins were sent to kill me,” Andrea said. “Why had our gods sent us to quell a rebellion in the northeast, when a god should have known we would be killed trying?”
One part of me was offended by her question—the part of me that reverted to training. I could quickly understand why they tried to silence her. She had questioned the deity of the dragons. Yet the curious side of me wanted an answer to the question Andr
ea had dared to ask and more. Why had they not provided a logical answer? Why kill her just for asking?
I stood there looking at her, bewildered. She could surely see what was going through my mind.
“Mistress,” she said, “my advice to you is to silence your questions and never ask them. Not if you want to live. You can see what such curiosity brought me to. Now, I can probably look forward to more wraith dancers coming after me, once you two return from your mission. I would not wish the life of an outcast upon you, so take my advice…and my thanks.”
Andrea placed her hand on my upper arm.
“Thanks?” I asked.
She smiled just a little. “For giving me the chance to share my side of what happened…for listening.”
Andrea let go of my arm and turned away. I didn’t know what else to say to her, so I simply let her go without another word. When I turned back toward the fire and the refugees, I found Agnes glaring at me. She clearly wasn’t happy about my speaking to Andrea.
I lowered my eyes to the ground and walked toward her. She stood up and met me with a steaming bowl of stew. “Here,” she said. “You would be wiser to eat something that’s good for you than to listen to the poison of traitors.”
Agnes shoved the bowl into my hands and turned back to sit at the fire. I wasn’t sure anything I said would take away her anger, so I didn’t bother trying. I didn’t feel that I had any right to either justify or condemn Andrea’s actions. And Agnes wasn’t interested even if I tried.
I sat down on the ground and began to eat the stew. It was tasty, but nothing could drown out my growing doubts about what was happening in the world around me. I didn’t want to doubt anything that I had been taught. But unanswered questions were praying upon my mind, like vultures circling a dying animal. They would not go away no matter how I clung to my long held beliefs.
Once the meal had been eaten and everyone was ready with wagons and carts full and passengers aboard, Agnes and I set off with the refugees toward Thorn Mountain. We left near dusk, hoping to avoid suspicious followers. Agnes and I were allowed to ride in one of the wagons owned by the woman whom Agnes had indulged in conversation earlier and her husband.
The wagon was at least covered, which was better than I had expected to start this journey north. I huddled inside my furs, avoiding eye contact with Agnes—at least until she simmered down and had put Andrea out of her mind. The road was hard-packed dirt with a layer of frost over the topsoil. Nearly a week ahead of us stood Thorn Mountain. I settled in and got some sleep, still trying to put bothersome questions out of my mind.
SISTERS
Jillian walked behind the Supreme Matron of the Council of the High Guard for the city of Tarris. She was unsure and uncomfortable. An emergency meeting called for her, as Captain of the High Guard, and Supreme Matron Galinda to meet with two high level agents sent by Belial himself. No one else would be in attendance; the matter being of the highest secrecy and highest priority.
Jillian had tried to feel Galinda out on the matter, hoping to glean details before actually meeting with the two wraith dancers from Babale. However, Galinda had stopped her quickly. She had only just received a communiqué herself. Until they met with these two women, they would not know what was going on.
The pair proceeded down a lonely lamp-lit corridor of ancient stone block. At this late hour, the other wraith dancers serving in the High Guard and housed in this special ward would already be asleep. Only the sound of their soft footfalls could be heard with the occasional pop of hot oil inside the lamps.
When they reached Galinda’s office, they found two guards waiting outside the door. On a bench against the opposite wall, sat two wraith dancers Jillian did not recognize. They were clearly sisters by appearance and she had at least heard about two twins who fought together using a peculiar complementary style among wraith dancers. They were said to be highly skilled and effective in their work.
The two sisters stood and bowed, acknowledging the Supreme Matron.
“Ladies, I understand Belial has you on pressing business here in Tarris,” Galinda said. “Please, come inside.”
The guard unlocked the office door and opened it for the Supreme Matron. Jillian allowed the sisters to enter first, and then followed. Galinda walked to her desk and seated herself as the others found chairs around the desk. The guard closed the door leaving them to their business.
“Now, ladies, how may we assist you?” Galinda asked.
Rachel spoke first. “Matron, my name is Rachel and this is my sister, Rebecca. As wraith dancers with the High Guard in Babale, we have been commissioned by Belial himself to find and eliminate the rebel known as Varen.”
Jillian started in her chair. She hoped no one had noticed. She felt like someone had just stabbed her in the heart. Her love had been targeted by the dragons. She had known their indifference would not last forever. At some point they would try to kill him. Finally, the order had been given. Two more dangerous wraith dancers could not have been found to carry out the deed.
“I have heard of you both,” Galinda said. “Your talents are well known.”
“Mistress,” Rachel began, “Mistress Helda informed us that you would likely be able to provide us with intelligence information on Varen’s recent activities. It has been reported that he has been seen operating in and around Tarris.”
“He has indeed. Jillian is Captain of the High Guard here in Tarris,” Galinda said, indicating Jillian. “She can provide you with the details we have.”
Now it had fallen to her. Jillian began to perspire. She could feel the heat gathering. She was in a precarious predicament. If she did not provide the actual report, Galinda would know and question her about it. However, if she did tell what the High Guard had found, Varen would be placed in grave danger.
“Actually,” Jillian began, “our information is limited. However, we do know that Varen was seen on the streets of Tarris recently and some of his men were arrested by the High Guard. Upon examination they informed us that he had taken the road west toward the Urtah Mountains.”
Jillian wanted to tear out her own tongue—the betrayal felt like ashes in her mouth.
“Does he have an encampment in the mountains?” Rachel asked.
Jillian almost hesitated. “That is what the report says.”
“How many days since he left for Urtah? Did the prisoners say?” Rachel asked.
“No more than two,” Jillian said. “His men were caught coming out of a brothel. Apparently they stayed behind, hoping to catch up at their convenience.”
Rachel’s eyebrows rose at the mention of the brothel. Jillian assumed she would be surprised. After all, Babale was supposedly free from the criminal elements that plagued Tarris unmolested. Still, the wraith dancer didn’t make it an issue.
Instead, she and her sister stood and bowed; first toward the Supreme Matron and then toward Jillian. “Mistress, you have our gratitude, as do you, Captain,” Rachel said. “With your permission, we will be on our way.”
Galinda nodded. “May the gods speed you on your way and give you success.”
Rachel and Rebecca turned to go.
“Could I be of assistance?” Jillian blurted out.
The sisters paused, turning toward Jillian. There was an awkward silence between them. Jillian could feel Galinda’s eyes upon her.
After a moment, Rachel composed herself. “Thank you, Captain,” she said hesitantly. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”
They turned, Rachel opened the door and they walked out, closing it behind them.
Galinda’s reaction was instant. “Jillian, how could you ask such a thing? Belial commissioned them and they must fulfill their obligation.”
Jillian turned and bowed. “Forgive me, Mistress. I only hoped that I might help them because of the dangerous man they are sent for. Please accept my apologies.”
“As Captain of the High Guard, you of all people should follow protocol to the letter,” Galinda said.
Jillian kept her eyes downcast. “Yes, Mistress.”
Galinda paused for a moment, examining her again. Apparently satisfied she said, “Very well, you may return to your room.”
Jillian turned and left the Supreme Matron’s office. The two guards were still keeping watch on either side of the door. Jillian looked down the corridor, searching for Rachel and Rebecca, but they were already gone. No doubt they were rushing to their horses in order to hurriedly get out of the city and onto the Western Road to catch up with Varen’s caravan.
Jillian walked quickly down the hall on her way to her own room. She had given Rachel and Rebecca the information they required. She had offered the sisters help with their mission to eliminate Varen. But that had been a lie; a ploy. Given the chance she would soon have slit their throats.
Jillian knew she now had only one course of action left to her. Varen, her only love, was in danger. Two highly skilled assassins were riding out to take him from her life forever. Leaving everything else behind, she had no choice but to intercept these deadly sisters and kill them herself.
Twenty minutes later, Jillian was on the wall staring out over the frosted moor with the Western Road winding away from Tarris toward Urth just over a week away. A guard stood at attention next to her, obviously waiting to report to her captain. Jillian gave her a sidelong glance. She knew the woman. “Tabitha, has anyone left the city by the Western Gate recently?” she asked, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible about the inquiry.
“Yes, Mistress,” Tabitha reported. “Two wraith dancers with clearance from the Supreme Matron left on horseback about fifteen minutes ago. Otherwise, no one has been allowed in or out.”