by Dana Davis
Next, Larisa stopped near a young man’s body, a merchant by his clothes, or what was left of them. Sorrow railed against Kepriah’s senses for an instant and she nearly lost her balance. Patrice glanced at her, face pale and lips trembling.
Kepriah offered a hardened glare back. Do not cry, Patrice. Not now. Her youngest sister seemed to understand and pinched her lips together.
Larisa made the sign of protection over the body then aimed her talisman once again.
****
They had spent the entire afternoon watching the healer obliterate bodies of humans and animals alike, one by one, methodically, as though she were picking crops. Her emotions had become more distant with each. Some bodies had caught on branches and debris and Larisa had scorched trees and brush along the way, but the area was still wet enough not to take light.
Now, they made their way to the last home. The window glass and the doors were missing and muddy debris filled the entrance. Larisa stood staring down at two decomposing bodies, a man and a woman entangled together. They looked as though had tried to cling to the porch railing for survival and ended up trapped by debris.
“They never had a chance.” Dark smudges stood out beneath Larisa’s eyes, accentuated by her pale face.
The flood of sorrow and loss that slammed against Kepriah’s senses was nauseating and she saw Patrice stumble. These must be Larisa’s parents.
“I’m so sorry.” Patrice managed to keep her voice steady but tears ran down her cheeks.
Once Kepriah sorted the emotions out enough to focus, she stepped to her middle sister and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Jakon and I can bury them.”
Larisa’s shoulder moved up and down with a long breath. “No. They are diseased. You must not touch them.”
With that, she gently shrugged Kepriah’s hand off her shoulder and made the sign of protection over the bodies, just as she had done for numerous others. She aimed her talisman. At first, she looked like she might faint, but power built quickly in her, strength that surprised Kepriah. Larisa flamed both bodies at once, sending them into oblivion.
“Go with the wind,” Kepriah, Jakon, and Patrice said in unison. Kepriah hoped it would be the last time she ever uttered that phrase.
****
By nightfall, Kepriah and her group had cleared several debris mounds from Larisa’s old home. The structure had held against the loosed water, no doubt from the fine craftsmanship, and they needed a place to sleep, despite the mold that had begun to grow up the walls. They had scrubbed the place as best they could, getting some of the stench out of the house, and with all the bodies Larisa had disposed of, her control was good enough to singe what they could not remove and help dry the place out. Patrice called it sterilization.
Jakon’s people had given them enough food and water for several days but they would need to replenish, eventually. Standing pools around the streets would at best make them violently ill. They also needed jabbers. If any had survived this flood, they were long gone from here. Even stupid animals like jabbers did not stay near rotting remains.
Superstitions would keep other humans away from Donigere now, probably for a very long time. Kepriah suspected stories of a great flood that killed every living thing in the area would arise once a visitor stumbled upon this place, which may have already happened. There was nothing of value for thieves, either. Even if they dug out the entire village, these people had no finery. They were simple merchants, gardeners and crafters, nothing more, not even worth one of Kepriah’s old raids, though she had not worked a raid in several years. The Trine could continue honing their magic without fear of interruption or retribution.
That’s why Honor sent us here.
Jakon found several useable candles still in one of the kitchen cabinets, placed them into hollowed-out lantern shells, and lit them with sulfur sticks. He had found several logs that now burned in the fireplace, which added warmth to the dreadful day. Larisa had disappeared into what they learned was her father’s shop and returned with a soggy bag of coins.
“My father was saving these for my wedding.” She looked older than her twenty-five years, like a woman who had seen the horrors of war. “I will not be needing them for that.”
“I am sorry, Second Noble.”
“These were good people, Jakon. Stupid not to have heeded warnings about the flood, but good people. Our worst crime here was when Broden’s boys raided old widow Motley’s cellar and tied her jam jars in one of the trees. Several fell and broke and the boys had to work off the loss.” She glanced out one of the windows, now devoid of glass. “We do not even have stocks here. Or a hangman’s noose.”
“You hang people?” Patrice said that as though it were the worst thing she had ever heard.
The shock from her Earth sister surprised Kepriah and she studied the woman. “Murderers and rapists. Sometimes we just chop off their heads.”
“Do they not hang outlaws on Earth?” Larisa said.
Patrice shook her head. “Not anymore. Not in my country. We have other ways that are supposed to be more humane. There are countries that still hang people, though, even for minor infractions. Some kill innocent women and children, what they call honor killings, just to be rid of them.” Her disgust wafted to Kepriah’s senses.
“That’s not right,” Larisa said. “Innocents should not be punished.”
“Yeah, well. Tell that to terrorists.” Patrice unrolled a grass mat onto the damp floor and sat as Jakon left to get food.
Kepriah did not condone killing people for sport. War was different. She guessed terrorists were very much like undesirable warlords on this world, those not recognized by a legitimate army. Most were overgrown boys that struck out at people who refused to obey them, those weaker than themselves. Royals were no better sometimes. Kepriah still had a bounty on her head, a thought that did not sit well with her.
She turned to her youngest sister. “How is your disguise magic coming along, Patrice?” They would need it to sneak into the villages, especially with Kepriah a prime target. No doubt, drawings of her hung in villages all over Selenea by now.
“I’m able to manage the four of us,” Patrice said. “As long as we’re together. I can’t keep the images up if we get too far apart.”
Kepriah nodded. Honor had kept them practicing long hours each day, even when Patrice whined about being tired and hungry. The woman told them they would probably be exhausted at one time or another during their travels and would still have to use the Faytools. An enemy would not give them leisure to rest. Kepriah focused on Larisa, who sat with her eyes closed. Dirt and leaves encrusted her braid but she did not seem to care. They all looked ragged now and no one complained, not even Patrice.
“How about your visions?” Patrice’s red-rimmed, blue eyes studied her.
“I have managed to hone in on several since training at Jakon’s village. But nothing of any real use.”
“You have to know where to focus the scepter, First Noble,” Jakon said as he stepped into the room again. He handed out camen fruit and the rabbit jerky they had brought, which Kepriah eagerly took.
She was grateful for a roof, a warm fire, and something for her belly. Larisa had said Donigere did not get severe winters but a chill filled the air, especially once the sun went down. They had enough mats and blankets to keep them comfortable, but she had to threaten Larisa with the scepter until the healer ate. Once Larisa had some fruit in her stomach, she lay on her mat and Patrice covered her. The healer was asleep in a heartbeat.
Patrice moved close to Jakon. “Will she be okay?”
Those golden eyes flicked to the prone woman. “Eventually.” He said that as if he knew from experience. Maybe Sorinieve had gone through something similar. That woman had lived a very long time. “You need rest, Third Noble. We all do.”
At that, they bedded down.
Kepriah could not have been asleep long when something woke her. She thought she saw someone standing near one of the doorways, a s
hadow. She sat up but she saw nothing unusual. Maybe a trick of the firelight. Even so, she got up and retrieved her scepter. She waved Jakon down when he started to rise and she quietly checked around house. Nothing but soft cries of insects and frogs that had returned to the area. Jakon was sitting up when she returned and she shook her head that she found nothing.
She slept the rest of the night, but in the morning, her muscles protested the physical work they had done yesterday and she was still tired. How could I let myself get so out of condition? I’m a warrior for bloody sakes.
She could hide her soreness and fatigue from Jakon but not from her sisters. She smiled when she saw Larisa and Patrice nursing sore muscles, and wondered if their own discomfort would dampen sensing hers. Both women gave off irritation, weariness, and grief. If only they could forget what they had seen here. But Kepriah was not Nyanan. I have no powers to remove or alter memories. Or do I? The scepter could do many things. That thought, she tucked away for later as she stepped outside and found a place to relieve herself. Her sisters and Jakon moved off in different directions for the same purpose.
Once they returned to Larisa’s house, Kepriah said. “Let us break fast, then we can get to our practices.”
Patrice gave a worried glance to Larisa before turning her gaze on Kepriah. “Are we supposed to do that hoisting thing from Donigere?”
That’s an interesting thought. “Jakon?”
The large man shook his head. “I thought the location would be obvious, First Noble.”
Kepriah nodded as her mind honed in on the answer. Of course. “We must be near the aurora to perform the hoisting.”
Patrice groaned. “You mean back to that damn mountain? It’s freezing up there!”
“The aurora appears in more places than just the mountains, Third.”
Before Kepriah could ask about the other locations, the room spun. She reached for her scepter but could not get to it before the floor rose up to meet her.
Chapter 15
Patrice made it to Kepriah’s side first, but Larisa pushed her out of the way. “Sorry,” Patrice uttered, with some indignation, but her mood didn’t last long as she focused on her unconscious sister. “Is she all right?”
Larisa didn’t say anything for several moments while she listened to Kepriah’s chest, looked into her eyes, and felt her pulse. She rubbed her fist on the prone woman’s chest and called out her name without results. “She is alive but her heart is slow and faint. Patrice, give me that blanket. What happened, Jakon?”
Patrice helped Larisa cover Kepriah’s prone body as Jakon moved closer. “Try putting the scepter in her hand. She was reaching for it when she fell.”
Patrice got the scepter and sat next to Kepriah. She wrapped her older sister’s fingers around it but they fell away. She tried again and held them on the scepter for several seconds. “It’s not working.”
Jakon looked puzzled and worried, something Patrice had never seen in him. She didn’t like it one damn bit. “Just keep her hand on the scepter. She might sense it.”
Larisa drew in a noisy breath. “I saw something like this once before, in one of my mother’s patients. False death. The longer she is in this state, the harder it is for her to wake.”
Patrice’s heart thumped against her ribs like a bear chasing prey. “Are you telling me she’s in a coma?” Larisa studied her a moment as if trying to compute the words. “It’s a very deep sleep that no one can wake her from.”
Recognition touched the blonde women’s features. “Yes. Kepriah is in a coma.”
“I’ve seen your oh-so-modern medical techniques. She’ll die here if we don’t wake her. She can’t survive long without food and water.” Jakon placed a hand on Patrice’s shoulder and she managed to shove down her panic, barely. Kepriah meant more to her than she realized, or than she had wanted to admit, even to herself. Guilt rose as she studied Larisa’s drawn face. The woman had dealt with horrors beyond Patrice’s reckoning just yesterday. “I’m sorry, Larisa. That was inconsiderate.” Her sister gave her a wan smile and nodded. “Why don’t you try her scepter? It heals, and you’re a healer. It might work for you.”
Larisa took up the scepter, despite Jakon’s earlier promises that it wouldn’t work for anyone but Kepriah, and held it over their prone sister. Not a quiver, not a single jewel lit up. Patrice place a hand on the scepter near Larisa’s and concentrated on stilling the tree in her mind, the way Kepriah had taught her. It worked faster than her old yoga techniques. Still nothing.
“Second Noble,” Jakon said in a low voice. “Place the talisman over her breast.”
Patrice pushed the scepter back into Kepriah’s fingers and held it there, as Larisa pulled the talisman from her tunic and placed it over Kepriah’s barely moving chest. Larisa’s eyes grew distant.
“What do you see, Second?”
“Nothing.”
“You must concentrate.”
“I am concentrating, Jakon.”
Anger brushed against Patrice’s senses and she placed a calming hand on Larisa’s arm. The two locked eyes for a moment and the anger dissipated. Larisa concentrated on the talisman again. After a long and agonizing moment, she finally said, “That cannot be.”
“What’s wrong?” Patrice’s panic mounted as her sister’s alarm hit her like a fist in the gut. “Larisa? What the hell is it?”
“This has to be wrong.”
“What?”
“Second Noble. What do you see?” Even Jakon had more than a hint of concern in his voice.
Larisa’s pale face came up and her eyes met his. “She is in the Hollow of the Dead.”
“What?” Patrice said before she could stop herself. “How? Shit! Get her back! Get her back!”
“I do not know how. And stop screaming at me.”
Patrice took in a couple of quick breaths to put panic at a distance, as Larisa fussed over Kepriah’s prone body. “Sorry. I’m sorry.” She closed her eyes a moment. “If she’s in the Hollow, Jakon, how come her body’s not—you know?”
He thought a moment. “Her spirit is in the Hollow. Her body will remain like this unless her life cord is severed. Someone must have pulled spirit her there.”
“How? Who?”
“There’s only one person I can think of besides Second Noble whose magic is strong enough to go to the Hollow.”
“Nyanan?”
Jakon nodded.
“That bitch.” Patrice’s hands shook from anger, fear, and the worry she sensed from Larisa, and she almost let the scepter roll from Kepriah’s lifeless fingers. She forced her gaze away from her prone sister when Larisa placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Please, Patrice, keep your emotions under control. I cannot deal with yours and mine. Not now.”
“Sorry.” She took in a long breath. “I seem to be saying that a lot.”
“It’s all right. Just try to remain calm. Jakon? Can we bring her back?”
“You can. Your talisman connects you to the Hollow.”
“Yes, but how do I get there?”
“That, I do not know. You are the only one to ever use the talisman’s magic.” Larisa gave him a doubtful look and he went into his teaching voice. “The talisman is bonded to you, Second Noble. The two of you were created for each other. You must trust that it will guide you.”
“Why did you or Honor not tell us Nyanan could get to the Hollow?”
“I did not know she could until now. I’m guessing Honor did not realize it, either. Despite the legends, Nyanan is full of mysteries.”
“Then I will just have to try and find Kepriah myself. Patrice, you watch over us. Your ring gives you visions just like my talisman. See if you can hone in on the Hollow. You have to relax and push your fear away.”
Patrice nodded but her heart pounded against her ribs so hard she thought they might break. Larisa lay on the floor with eyes closed, hand over her talisman, and Patrice forced her mind to concentrate as she sat between her two sisters. She held
her ring hand over her middle sister’s prone figure and kept her other wrapped around Kepriah’s hand and the scepter. She gazed into her ring’s blue stone and waited. Nothing. She pressed her fingers into Larisa’s neck and waited again. After several seconds, her sister’s pulse grew sluggish.
“Larisa? Can you hear me?” The woman didn’t respond. Patrice gazed into the ring’s stone until everything else around her grew distant. Soon, she got a misty image of Larisa. She called out her sister’s name in her mind and out loud but got no response.
She moved her ring hand over Kepriah and waited for another vision, which came to her almost immediately now. The warrior woman’s spirit stood near some sort of muddy river. Everything else was in darkness. Well, almost everything. What Patrice saw next to Kepriah made her cry out and she almost lost the vision.
Chapter 16
Fear shook Larisa. How did I get in the Hollow? Had it been only a moment ago that she was somewhere else? But where? A muddy river flowed beside her, tortured faces within. An agonizing howl found her ears and she shivered. Am I dead? Something brushed against her cheek and she snapped her head around, too frightened to scream. No one was there. The air smelled stagnant, like a pond full of algae. Terror settled in her gut as she began walking, desperate to find a way out of this awful place.
Something crunched beneath her feet and she looked down. Bones littered the ground. Human bones. Her heart threatened to beat from her chest. When a dark shadow of a man appeared in front of her, she thought perhaps she would faint. His glowing red eyes focused on hers and she could not strip her gaze from him.
“What are you doing here?” a scratchy voice boomed from the shadow man. “You do not belong. This is the Hollow of the Dead. Go home.”
Sweet relief filled her. I am still alive. A distant remembrance tugged at Larisa’s mind when he mentioned home, but still she could not remember where she had come from or how she got here. Or why she had come to the Hollow.