by Dana Davis
Damon had assured her this was the safest route to the Sacred Eye, but he neglected to share just how taxing it would be for them. In fact, she could still see Damon’s sly grin in her mind when he told her about it. That rat-dung of a royalet knew this was a difficult course. Probably payback for me refusing to marry him. Damon’s map consisted of markers outlining a trail his grandsire used to traverse, but she suspected no one had been this way in many years, especially since there was no hint of a trail left. Well, part of it is my own bloody fault. I asked for the least-traveled route.
She raised a hand to stop her little family, grunted as she propped her scepter against a tree, and sat on a rock to remove her soggy boots. Bruises from the trek through Hazy Rockstead, which they traversed just yesterday, still felt tender. At least the mud here was soft and traversing it kept her leg muscles hard.
With a single jabber, the only healthy one Damon could spare, Patrice and Larisa rode most of the way, while Kepriah and Jakon walked. Right now, Patrice dozed in the saddle as Larisa held onto her. At first, the Earth woman had refused to ride the beast. Evidently, jabbers did not exist on Earth, and it took a good amount of cajoling to get her ass in the saddle. Kepriah had thought about using the scepter to conquer Patrice’s will, but once she grew tired, her youngest sister relented without a fight. Patrice had been through so much and Kepriah preferred not to force anything on her. She was grateful her sister had not been raped at Damon’s place, but at the same time, she was angry with herself for not stopping the man sooner. She had been just next door, yet Larisa had reached their sister first.
Patrice sighed in her sleep and Kepriah eyed her. She often sensed nightmares from both her sisters, not surprising given their recent pasts. Her gaze moved to Larisa, who looked as tired as she felt. Deliberately killing someone was against healer beliefs, and that unfortunate task had shaken the fair woman.
Larisa can no sooner outrun her healing talents than I can escape being a warrior. I should have been the one to kill him. She beat her boots on the rock to remove what caked-on mud she could manage and shoved them back onto her sore feet. Insects buzzed around, some biting through her protective skin salve, while others made nuisances of themselves and tried to get into her nose and mouth.
“You all right, First Noble?” Jakon extricated mud from his own boots and his golden eyes looked at her in sympathy.
“Give me a moment.”
“As you wish.” He moved away to give the jabber water.
If not for the favor Damon owed me, I never would have gone to the Cities of Sleep in the first place, Patrice would not have been attacked, and we would not be walking through this disgusting muck right now. “I will bloody thrash you for this, Damon,” Kepriah uttered to herself. Once we get through the hoisting, I will even pay your own guards to assist me. She smiled at that thought.
She tied her boots, took a swig from her canteen, scooped up her scepter, and motioned for them to continue on, hoping foot rot and hair mold would be the least of their worries. Once they reached Rat River, they would rent a pontoon, which lifted her spirits and kept her moving.
As she trudged on through the muddy wetlands, she contemplated another of Damon’s offers. He wanted a wife, so he figured Kepriah or one of her sisters would marry him. He had gone to each—Kepriah found out later—with his offer, even promised his mother’s emerald necklace to his “beloved” if she gave him a son. Kepriah felt confident that Damon would not turn her in to bounty hunters, if only to keep his chances of a wife still alive, in his warped little mind at any rate. At least she had talked him out of taking young girls to his bed. Generations past, girls were wedded at a young age, especially among royals, but Kepriah refused to allow Damon to revive that practice. I will castrate him if does not behave himself.
Kepriah and Praxon only had the one night together, because she did not think Patrice could handle another tryst after the attempted rape. At least, not yet. She glanced up at her sleeping sister as she sloshed through the muck. The Earth woman had spent her remaining days in Sleep sitting in Damon’s library with Larisa. Books were of little interest to most common folk, since many could not read, but royals usually kept at least a dozen lying around. Damon’s father had been an avid reader and amassed quite a collection. At least a hundred books sat on those library shelves. Patrice mentioned that it was a very small collection, but since she had never read any of the books written on Selenea, she seemed content to stay in the library. Damon let her take a couple of books with her, probably in hopes she would come back to be his wife. Patrice had thanked him but gave no impression she was interested in anything other than a good read.
Larisa kept one hand on the reins and the other around Patrice’s waist. The Donigere woman could be domineering in her own way, but she had looked very uncomfortable around Damon and the other men of his court. Any one of them would have come to her bed if she had asked. Men never seemed too picky when it came to an attractive woman’s wares. If she offered, most would oblige.
The man who took Kepriah’s virginity when she was fourteen had a daughter a year younger. Kepriah got her first sword out of that trade, along with several coins and a well-saddled jabber. Of course, she did not make any more off him. He did not want to sard with her after that, since she was no longer a virgin. That had been her plan all along. In the war camps, being a virgin increased her chances of getting raped, so she fixed the problem and chose a man she knew would brag about it. She whored a few more times, trading her young body for necessary items, but by the time she reached sixteen, she was an expert with a sword and chose her men for pleasure, not barter.
How I miss a blade in my hands! Granted, the scepter could perform feats of destruction she could never dream of with an ordinary weapon, but she missed the weight of steel. Men took a woman more seriously when she had a sword strapped to her hip. Why she was chosen for the Trine, she still did not know. Even the old seer had no answers other than “the Moirai wished it”.
She glanced at Jakon, whose golden eyes stood at half-mast as he trudged alongside her. He was strong, even if he claimed to be old. She swatted at yet another insect that tried to make her its meal.
Bloody Damon. The idiot boy was probably laughing his royal man jewels off right about now. Next time I see him, I just might sever them from him.
Those thoughts kept her company as they dredged through the wetlands the remainder of the day. When they finally reached Rat River, this area was drier, though the insects were just as annoying. Pontoons were docked for the night. Both moons hung in the sky and she could see some of the shadowy terrain as they made camp. Apprehension bordering on fear pricked at Kepriah’s senses. The sensation came from her Earth sister.
“Why is it called Rat River?” Patrice said as they unloaded items. Dark smudges stood out beneath her eyes even in the moonslight.
Kepriah pointed across the water. “A giant boulder got shoved into the bank by some ancient flood. Looks like a huge rat. You will see it come morning.”
“Oh, good. I was afraid it got its name because there are rodents here.”
“There are.” Kepriah felt panic from both her sisters. “But no more than anyplace else.”
“I really didn’t need to hear that.” Patrice fidgeted with the ring on her finger and glanced down at her feet.
“You can always crack that invisible whip of yours. That will send them scurrying.”
Patrice and Larisa gave nervous chuckles as they slapped at insects. It was good to hear Patrice’s joviality again, even tinged with nervousness. She had been so quiet since the attack that Kepriah feared she might break. Some women did not come back from that kind of treatment, even if it was stopped in time.
They bedded down in an old section of dock that kept them elevated from the dirt. This did nothing to rid them of insects, though, and Kepriah cursed the blood-sucking fiends as she yanked her blanket over her head. She also prayed to the Moirai that they would not come across bounty hunters
out here.
We still have a ways to go before we master the Faytools. She kept one hand on her scepter as she drifted into a troubled sleep.
Chapter 21
They had made it up Rat River without incident, thankfully, and found themselves in a quaint little village, for which Larisa was grateful. No one remembered Nyanan interfering with their sleep since they had left Donigere, not even a foggy memory, which probably meant she could not find them. At least Larisa hoped.
Destroying the remains of those she loved or had known her entire life took its toll on her spirit, and she saw them every night in her dreams. Killing went against everything a healer believed in and her dreams brought Patrice’s attacker to her each night, as well. Weariness troubled her daily life. Of course, the healer in her, that part she had denied for so long, held onto some semblance of hope, and she used her healing skills as a distraction, desperate to keep gloomy thoughts at bay. Patrice had become her current focus.
The Earth woman was still recovering from her attack in the Cities of Sleep, and guilt racked Larisa that she had not realized what was happening sooner. At the same time, she was grateful she had arrived before that awful man raped her sister. Patrice was physically whole. Now it was up to Larisa to heal her sister’s mind.
Kepriah had just as much guilt as Larisa, if not more, over what had happened to Patrice. She never showed it outwardly, but she and Patrice seemed to grow closer each day and many of their squabbles played out with humor now.
Larisa was grateful for Jakon’s presence, too. She realized just how attached Sorinieve must have been to the man, how devoted they were to one another. She also wondered what horrors the old woman had seen during her centuries on this world. The fact that anyone could live that long and still have compassion impressed Larisa, and she wished she could tell that to Sorinieve. She wished the woman had lived to train them and share her knowledge and experiences. She sighed as she put the last item in her bag.
While the local talemaster busied villagers with stories of magic, warriors, and faraway lands, the Trine quietly retrieved their packs and mounted kneeling jabbers. These villagers had been eager to trade the animals, as they did not use them much in winter except to move meager supplies, so the group traded their tired beast, along with three of Kepriah’s blades, and got four fresh jabbers out of the deal. Five village jabbers would foal in a matter of weeks, and since the animals grew to adulthood in six months, the herd would be replenished by next spring’s planting season. Patrice could not ride very well so Jakon took her on his mount. The fourth carried the group’s belongings.
The village elder, a brown, wrinkled man with no hair and few teeth, bid them goodbye, and proudly held up one of the knives they had traded. Though he spoke a foreign tongue that only Kepriah and Jakon could understand, Larisa had understood his gestures and facial expressions during the negotiations. I wish I could understand him the way I do Patrice. The magic that allowed communication with Patrice was special within the Trine and did not work with others on her world. I guess I will have to learn other languages just like everyone else.
As they passed the edge of the forest and got onto the main road, Larisa pressed heels into her jabber’s fat sides. Her cloak flapped in the chilled air as they galloped toward the sea and the Sacred Eye. They traveled about an hour when she began to hear a curious noise. Kepriah uttered something about waves. As they grew closer, the crashing waves seemed to calm Larisa. Curious, since she had heard stories about numerous dangers at sea.
She took in strength from the waves as she pondered the important question she would soon ask, though it seemed obvious to her now. A simple question, yet she needed to get the wording exactly right. One false move, according to the seer, and a questioner could be blown to bits. He was fairly certain it would not happen to a member of the Trine with visions of the Sacred Eye, but Larisa worked to quell her fear and doubt. She let the waves lull her as she rode and kept herself in a half-aware state, much like the meditations Jakon had taught them back at the mountain cave, which seemed so long ago now. So very long ago.
****
At the edge of the copse, they dismounted. Patrice still looked uncomfortable on the beasts, and Larisa felt a twinge of fear through the link each time her sister’s jabber rocked to a kneeling position. Kepriah and Jakon secured the jabbers to nearby trees and they all proceeded on foot. Once they reached the Sacred Eye, only Larisa could enter the circle without harm. The true seer had told them this during their visit. Her visions never showed anyone with her.
Just me, alone with the Sacred Eye. Larisa led the way through the trees, searching for the clearing from her visions. No one spoke but she felt apprehension from both sisters. After several minutes, she pointed. “There.”
As they approached the clearing, she craned her head at the massive statues that guarded either side of the stone circle entrance. One had the body of a goat and the torso of a human male, while the other had a female human top connected to a bird-like bottom half. Dark holes where eyes should have been stared vacantly toward the ground. Those eyes shot god fire at any unworthy human who tried to pass.
Confronting such dangers now turned her thoughts to her future. Kepriah had told her about Damon wanting a wife and she had been tempted to erase Kepriah’s bounty, but her task as Second Noble was much more important. The world depended on her and her sisters. There would be time to marry after the hoisting, if needed. Kepriah did not approve of such a union just now, even to save her own hide. The warrior’s emotions about Damon wavered between amusement, disgust, frustration, and outright anger. But he was a handsome man and Larisa was a woman, after all.
Her eyes drifted upward again as she stood not five feet from the massive statues, and all thoughts about Damon fluttered away like startled birds. Overgrown vines snaked around these giant guardians, covering most of them, yet they elicited an ominous presence that kept her heart at a steady run. Human bones lay scattered just the other side of the entrance, poor souls who had tried to go through and failed. They reminded her of the Hollow and she shivered.
“You all right, Second?” Jakon said.
“No.” Her curt replay came out harsher than she intended. “But I have no choice. We need answers.” You can do this, Larisa. Just remain calm. She forced her shaking legs to move forward between the giant statues.
“I will take care of them if they try anything.” Kepriah, scepter in hand, stood with her feet apart, knees bent, as though she held a sword.
Patrice stood at her side, ring aimed upward, and a determined look on her face that betrayed the worry and fear Larisa felt tapping at her senses.
Larisa walked on trembling legs between the statues, trying not to let the bones sway her to turn and run away like a frightened child. One slow step at a time. If either of the statues moved, she was ready to bolt back the way she came. But with each step, nothing happened. No movement, no dead Second Noble of the Trine. Once she got past the giants, she turned back, amazed that they had not scattered her bones like so many others. I am still alive. So far. Jakon’s smile put her a bit more at ease, and she followed the ancient stone sidewalk through the thick brush until she reached the stone circle. Alone, just like in her vision.
A platform, filled with fewer cracks than she expected from its immense age, held a pedestal with a sword carved atop, all made of stone. Set into the sword was a small, silver sphere, gleaming as though someone had recently polished it. The Sacred Eye. She concentrated to steady her heartbeat as she stepped onto the circular platform. Nothing moved, except the wind, yet her lungs felt deprived and she realized was holding her breath. She let it out as she pulled the leather gloves from her hands and shoved them into her cloak pocket.
If this fails, we’re all toast, as Patrice would say. Oh, stop acting like such a child, Larisa. Your sisters need you. Your world needs you. You are a grown woman and a member of the Trine. With a mental swipe, she brushed away those thoughts and quieted her inner doubt
s. She placed a trembling palm on the small, silver sphere and moved her other hand to her talisman.
The Eye warmed beneath her touch and a voice filled her mind. Speak a question and we may answer.
She formed the words carefully, silently, before speaking. “How do we, the Trine, hoist the lost moon?”
There came no answer and she feared the statues might decide to strike her down after all. Doubts began to surface but she shoved them back and prepared the question again. Before she could speak, the voice entered her mind. That answer is for the chosen one, Second sister of the Trine, Noble of the talisman.
Relief pulsed through her that she was still alive. She had been thinking the whole way here how to prove her identity if the Eye asked for it. She could not remove the talisman from its chain or from around her neck, so she leaned in and pressed it against the Sacred Eye with her right palm on top. The sphere became malleable and molded around the talisman to hold it fast. Her senses reeled as a blinding light and dull pain entered her body, and she thought for a moment this might be the end.
Welcome, chosen one, Second sister of the Trine, Noble of the talisman. Ask your question and we will answer.
Larisa gritted her teeth against the pain and forced herself to relax enough to speak again. “How do we, the Trine, hoist the lost moon?”
You must find the girl and boy. Place them on the Pewter Throne. Only then can you find the moon you seek.
The less she resisted, the less pain she felt, so she gave into it, her talisman stuck against the silver Eye and her right hand on top of them both. “What does that mean? What girl and boy?” She had made a novice mistake asking two questions at once and the Eye remained silent. “Where do I find this girl and boy?”
Seek the ruins of war.
This was going nowhere fast. “How will they help us hoist the lost moon?”