“Wait,” she told him. “Trust me. Trust in the healing powers of Tal Dur.”
She lay Bruno upon his back, then guided the injured man across the surface of the pool until the waters had risen up above her waist. Then, with her arms supporting Bruno’s weight in the water, she bowed her head until it was resting upon his chest, and made a silent prayer.
This time the waters did not rise up. There was no turmoil, no churning whirlpool to answer Bea. Instead the stillness of the waters seemed to reach out and fill all of Sigmarsgeist. For all his desperate worry for his comrade, Stefan found himself grow calm. He looked about, across what remained of the citadel to north and south. For a moment he thought about the Norscans, whether they or any other of the Chaos creatures could have survived. But Zucharov and Anaise had gone, and with them had gone the poison that had swept through Sigmarsgeist. The heart of the citadel was gone, and with it too the rage of battle.
Bea looked up from her prayers, and beckoned Stefan towards her.
Bruno lay very still in the water, an expression of calm on his face. For a moment Stefan thought his comrade was lost, but then Bruno began to breathe again, slow and regular, like a man in the depths of restful sleep. Finally he opened his eyes and looked up at Bea. He smiled at the sight of her.
“I thought for a moment I had died,” he murmured, “and that you were the goddess Shallya, come to receive me.”
Bea lowered her head, and kissed him gently. “You did not die,” she whispered. “Nor am I the goddess, though I know now how I may serve her.”
Stefan looked at Bruno and Bea in turn, and shook his head in relief and disbelief. “Tal Dur?” he asked her.
“Tal Dur,” Bea affirmed.
“But the same waters destroyed Zucharov,” Stefan said. “How can that be?”
“Tal Dur looked into his soul,” Bea said. “And gave back what it found within. Evil begot evil. Tal Dur destroyed Zucharov as it destroyed Sigmarsgeist, and all evil that ran within it.”
“It could have been different,” she continued, thoughtfully. “Theirs were once noble dreams, Konstantin and Anaise both. I’m sure of that.”
“But those dreams are buried beneath the rubble now, and Konstantin and Anaise with them,” Stefan replied. “Evil will always find ways to taint the purest of hearts. We must be ever vigilant, lest ambition and greed poison our noble intent.”
“The gods will bear witness to that,” Bea agreed.
They walked side by side through the ruins as day broke across Sigmarsgeist. The rising sun was welcome but unforgiving, exposing the full horror of the devastation that had swept through Sigmarsgeist. Very little of the citadel had been left untouched. The final shock that Stefan had felt standing by Tal Dur had torn through the ruins like a hammer blow, devastating those few buildings still standing. The dream that had been Sigmarsgeist had been left hollow, and empty. It seemed far from certain that it would ever live again.
The floods had continued to recede, ebbing away almost as fast as they had first risen. Before long, nothing would remain of the waters.
“I’m not sure that we are ready for the gifts of Tal Dur,” Stefan mused. “With such a power for evil as well as good, I’m not sure we ever will be ready.”
Bea said nothing, just continued to walk at his side. Stefan had already noticed a distance that had come between them. They were comrades still, without doubt, but comrades now bound upon very different paths. They walked in silence for a while before Stefan spoke again.
“Tal Dur surely worked its wonders upon Bruno,” he said. “I’d wager he’ll recover, stronger and healthier than ever he was before.”
“He has rested the better part of the night,” Bea replied. “Soon he’ll be ready to travel.”
She smiled, a little ruefully. “Beyond that, we cannot say. Tal Dur has gifted Bruno his life,” she said. “But it will not be the same life, the same future that he had before.”
“All our futures are unwritten,” Stefan said. “That is the only certainty we may know.”
He took Bea’s hand. “What about you?” he asked. “What hopes for the future have you?”
Bea stopped short, gazing about her at the people as they passed by, men and women struggling with bundles filled with clothes or food, beginning the long battle to rebuild their lives.
“I shall stay here,” she said at last. “This is where I belong. I know that now. I think perhaps I always knew it.”
“What will you do?”
Bea laughed. “Whatever I can. I don’t think I’ll lack for opportunity. There is work to be done, amongst the sick, the wounded, the starving. I can’t help them all, but I will do what I can.”
“Does Bruno know?” Stefan asked. “That you mean to stay, I mean?”
“Not yet,” Bea said, her voice very small. “Maybe in his heart though, yes.”
“You know you could ride back with us,” Stefan said. “To the Empire. Back to Altdorf. There’d be a life for you there.”
Bea smiled, and squeezed Stefan’s hand. “A life, maybe,” she said. “But not your life, Stefan. Nor Bruno’s, either. Your life is with the sword,” she said. “Mine is not. Mine is to heal.” She looked around. “I’m going back,” she said at last. “Back to my calling, I mean.” She opened her hand to reveal the battered icon of Shallya that Bruno had worn about his neck.
“Bruno wanted me to have this,” she said. “I don’t think even he knew quite how right that was.”
Stefan looked at her, puzzled. “I don’t understand,” he said.
Bea flushed, and took a breath. “A long time ago, before I knew I had a gift, I was a Sister,” she said. “A Sister of Shallya, a priestess. Then I discovered that I had other powers, powers to heal that came from magic, as well as from the divine will of the goddess.”
“I still don’t understand,” Stefan said. “Surely your healing powers were a blessing, wherever they came from?”
Bea laughed again. “Others didn’t see it that way,” she said. “What I took as a gift, others saw as witchcraft. I had to renounce my calling, and leave the Sisterhood. I thought perhaps in Mielstadt I would be left to work in peace,” she said. “But—well, you know the rest.” She sighed, then brightened. “But here, I won’t be judged. Here I can start afresh, and use my gifts as they were always meant to be used. The goddess knows, there’s work enough to be done.”
“I wouldn’t argue with that,” Stefan conceded. He looked around, surveying the scenes of desolation on all sides. Most of the townsfolk who had survived would be left without homes or shelter of any sort. He feared it would not be long before disease and starvation would stalk the ruins in search of easy prey.
“Are you sure you want to stay?” Stefan asked her. “These are dangerous times, now more than ever. The Dark Powers will turn their gaze upon the ruins of Sigmarsgeist. It may not be long before they send their armies here.”
“All the more reason for me to stay,” Bea said, resolutely. “These people may be beaten down, but their hearts are strong. They came here to build a fortress against the evil, the dark tide of Chaos. They shouldn’t be abandoned now.”
They rounded a corner, stepping across mounds of rubble and slurry. From the opposite direction, a familiar figure came into view, a well-loaded sack balanced upon his back.
“Lothar!” Stefan called out. “Lothar Koenig!”
The bounty hunter looked up, and shuffled towards them. The contents of the sack gave a metallic ring as Koenig set it upon the ground.
“Quite a haul,” Stefan observed.
The bounty hunter glanced at Stefan, and frowned. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “Dirty, plundering thief, eh?”
“There might have been a time when I’d have thought that,” Stefan conceded. “But I’m in no hurry to rush judgement anymore.”
“Well, it’s all honestly come by,” Lothar said. “From those rich enough and dead enough not to care, either.” He grunted, and peered at Stefan.
“What about you?” he asked. “Did you find your tattooed friend?”
“Yes,” Stefan said. “I found him.”
“And the gold band?” Lothar asked. For a brief moment a gleam came into his eye. “Did you find that?”
“If I had, I wouldn’t offer it to you,” Stefan said.
Lothar pondered a while then laughed, softly. “You know, I’m not so sure I’d want it anymore, either. There are some prizes where the price is just too high.”
“That there are,” Stefan agreed.
Lothar Koenig hefted the sack up upon his back once more. “Well,” he said. “I’d best be going.”
Stefan held out his hand to the bounty hunter. “Then go safely,” he said. “May you live and prosper.”
* * *
Stefan stood at Bea’s side. As he watched the bounty hunter disappear into the distance, his mind was very much on Alexei Zucharov.
“He understood about your power, didn’t he?” he said to Bea at last. “Zucharov, I mean. That’s why he wanted you at the lake. He meant to channel the power of the waters through you.”
Bea nodded. “Not something I want to think too much about,” she said.
“But—” Stefan hesitated, “if he had succeeded…”
Bea shrugged. “We must thank the gods that he didn’t,” she said.
“Thank them with all our hearts,” Stefan affirmed. “Truly, it’s for the good that the waters have drained away,” he added. “Let us hope they lie deep, far from all temptation.”
Bea shivered, and drew her shawl about her. “It’s growing cold,” she said.
Stefan looked at the sky. The clouds above had formed a shield of leaden grey. The first few snowflakes were starting to fall, soft upon the chill ruins of the citadel. “Kaldezeit is upon us,” he reflected. “The cruel season, the season of death.”
“Without death there can be no renewal,” Bea reminded him. “We will take what fortune the seasons bring.”
“Life here will be hard, Bea. Whatever happens.”
“Life will be hard for us all,” Bea replied. “I do not think the road you travel will be the easier.”
“No,” Stefan agreed. “I don’t suppose that it will.”
“I must go to my work,” Bea said. “The people of Sigmarsgeist need me now as never before.”
“Yes,” Stefan agreed. “You must go, and I must go too. If Bruno is able, we’ll ride from here before dusk. We have a journey of many weeks still ahead of us.”
“Back to Altdorf?”
“To Altdorf. A homecoming long overdue.”
A silence fell between them, then Bea leant forward and kissed Stefan lightly upon the cheek. “Go with all my blessings,” she said to him. “And may Shallya attend you all your days.”
Stefan took her hand in his, and stood facing her for a few moments longer. Then he turned, and began the journey that would lead him home.
Bea waited until Stefan had gone, his words all the while ringing like a warning inside her head. She whispered a prayer for Stefan’s fortune, and for Bruno’s, too. She prayed that his heart, like his body, would be healed in the fullness of time. She opened her left hand again, and looked upon the locket, the image of Shallya gazing up at her.
Then she opened her right hand, and looked down at the tiny vial resting in her palm. So small, yet so precious. The last few drops, taken from the lake of Tal Dur, before the waters were lost forever. Such a tiny amount. It could do no harm, she told herself. Surely, it could only be for the good.
She lifted the vial and held it to her face. The glass felt cool against her skin. It was the right thing to do. With the healing powers of the water, who knew what might not be achieved? Sigmarsgeist could be built anew, and her people made whole and strong, free once more of all sickness and pain.
It could surely do no harm, could not be anything but for the good. Sigmarsgeist would rise again, and she, Bea, would be there to lead its people from the darkness back into the light.
She would be their inspiration. She would be their Guide.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Neil McIntosh was born in Sussex in 1957 and currently lives in Brighton. He has contributed stories for the Warhammer anthologies, White Dwarf and other magazines, as well as writing for radio. Following a lengthy sabbatical, he returned to writing fiction in 2000 with two stories for Inferno! magazine. Taint of Evil is his second novel.
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[Stefan Kumansky 02] - Taint of Evil Page 33