by Dana Davis
“Sorry.” Patrice gave her a smirk and heard Kepriah laugh. She felt relief from both her sisters and realized they had been worried over her. The others in their group looked puzzled and Patrice had to admit the secret life with her sisters left her feeling a bit special.
Suddenly, the sun took a small dive backwards and Kepriah halted them. “About time,” Patrice said after her jabber stopped. “We need the extra hours.” Her beast reached out and nibbled at Jakon’s mount and the two jostled their riders, with Patrice holding on for her life. Great. All I need is to take a header onto the hard ground. Jakon got his jabber under control and steadied Patrice’s with an outstretched hand. “What’s wrong with them?” Patrice said, once she realized she wasn’t about to die.
Palith is the one who answered. “Seems your beastie is a trifle horny.” That got the men chortling and Gail snickered.
Before she knew it, Kepriah had moved her jabber alongside and leaned close to grab onto Patrice’s saddle horn. “He is not the only one, eh, sister?”
Patrice’s cheeks burned but she gave the warrior woman an innocent smile. Luckily, the men didn’t hear Kepriah’s jabs. Why should I care? It’s not like I’m a virgin or anything. But her sisters had a way of making her blush sometimes, even prudish Larisa.
“Ride behind me,” Kepriah said in a louder voice. “My jabber will not interest him.”
Kepriah was right and Patrice’s mount settled down. Her sister was able to open an archway, which allowed them to make it to the village well before dark. Patrice started to thank the Moirai for the timely arrival until the stench of human waste made her pinch her nose. This village looked like the one Larisa described from the Sacred Eye’s vision, as well the later visions Kepriah had received from her scepter and Patrice from her ring, war-torn and grubby. This had to be the place. Why anyone would live in such squalor, Patrice could only imagine.
They know how to dig latrines, don’t they? Trine visions left out olfactory details, thankfully.
The cobblestone roads were guttered with two trenches just wide enough for wagon wheels to travel. Trenches that were slick with what Patrice suspected was the town’s sewage. She had read about such things in a Roman culture class but the experience created a less than romantic image of the past.
The stench grew stronger as they made their way through the village, where several people meandered here and there, paying no attention to the riders. There were undernourished jabbers secured along alleyways and wagons that had seen better days parked just off the main street. Burned-out shells of buildings lined the place, though a few had been roughly repaired with whatever supplies were handy, and a bonfire burned in the traffic circle ahead.
Most of the people looked like they could use a good meal and a decent set of clothes. Children played along the sidewalks and crossed the street by hopping over the trenched area. One little boy didn’t make it and another pulled him crying across the cobblestones, toward the sidewalk. The boy’s leg that had gone into the trench had come out much darker, and Patrice cringed at the diseases these people entertained by living this way. The implications weren’t lost on Larisa, either. Patrice felt her middle sister’s disgust and concern tap her senses.
How can the future ruler of the Pewter Throne live here? Are the Moirai out of Their powerful, ever-loving minds? If They even have minds. I’m still not sure They even exist. Though she had witnessed things in her time here that would have been impossible on Earth, Patrice couldn’t help having doubts.
A weeping woman carried a small bundle to the bonfire and tossed it on top of the burning debris. A man quickly ran to her and ushered her back the way she had come, all the while trying to comfort her with awkward gestures.
Larisa sniffed. “At least they have the sense to destroy the dead.”
“I’m not staying here,” Patrice said.
“Shut it,” came the curt reply from Kepriah, along with a good amount of annoyance. Her eyes darted around but no one seemed to have heard them, or else they didn’t care. “We will stay outside the village but we have some daylight left, so let’s try and find that blasted boy.”
The others kept quiet but Patrice saw Gail put her hand up to keep the unpleasant smells at bay. The villagers here didn’t seem to notice anything. When a young woman stood on the sidewalk and dumped a shitbucket into the street, everyone just stepped around the mess.
Patrice worked to keep her stomach under control. This place is disgusting.
Most of the alleys were not large enough for jabbers, so Kepriah ordered them tied up out of sight with two of Palith’s men on watch, in case someone got the idea to steal or slaughter one of the beasts, and they proceeded on foot. Alley after alley, they peered into the dark recesses looking for the boy. Patrice made certain to stay well away from the mucky trenches and noticed that Gail kept unusually close to Larisa. The healer’s emotions pounded against Patrice’s senses in a dizzying pattern of concern, disgust and anger.
“Calm down, Larisa,” Kepriah said in a forceful tone. “Concentrate on what we came for so we can get the hell out of here.”
The blonde woman nodded and pulled her cloak up just under her nose. Patrice followed her example. It didn’t stop the smell but at least she could breathe without gagging as they zigzagged their way down the disgusting alleys.
“How do we get him to come with us?” Gail said. “Providin’ he’s even here?”
Kepriah gave her a steady gaze. “If coin fails to persuade him, I will.” She shook her scepter, now wrapped in a blanket with just enough of an opening for her hand to grip the wood, and the girl nodded.
Anyone in a place like this would probably swarm them for what was probably a fortune in jewels. Patrice had turned her ring so the blue stone faced her palm and Larisa kept her talisman beneath her dress. Anxiety met Patrice’s senses as Kepriah led them down another filthy alleyway. Then another.
Larisa stopped short and Patrice nearly ran her over. “There,” the healer said in a low voice. Her head nodded toward an open door.
Sure enough, the boy from their visions sat with his hand out for coin. Patrice recognized his stature and the hat he wore. That’s him all right.
As they started toward him, a large man stepped from the door and gave him a good kick. “I told you to get lost! Now, scram!”
“But I got the word. I was told to come here.”
“I will word you, you little piece of dung!”
Before the man got in another kick, Kepriah shouted, “You there! That boy is mine!”
The man looked her over. “You can have him. Making more of a stink than the shit in the streets. Damn bounty hunters. Do you people ever have better places to hunt than here?” He shook his head and started back inside.
“Wait,” Kepriah said in that authoritative tone that always set Patrice on edge. “There have been others here?”
“Hell and Hollow, woman. Do you not even consult one another? A group came through here just yesterday looking for some bitch who murdered some royal family.”
Patrice exchanged worried glances with Larisa.
The man sniffed. “I would not pay bounty for some royal bastard’s kin. Royals have no say here, the conniving leeches. And neither do bounty hunters. Leave now or I will call the Commander on you. And take this garbage with you.” He took another kick at the boy but missed then uttered several curses as he ducked inside.
Bastard! Patrice wanted to shriek at the man for the way he treated the boy. Kepriah placed a hand on her shoulder and she turned to her eldest sister. “Who is this Commander he was talking about?”
Kepriah gave a slight shrug.
“I got no bounty. I got no bounty,” the boy whined.
“Stop sniveling,” Kepriah told him.
How can this frightened, filthy boy be a potential ruler? Patrice thought as she studied him further. From the irritation and amazement that caressed her senses, her sisters thought the same thing.
Larisa stepped close
r. “We will not hurt you. What happened here?” She reached out to inspect bruises on his thin arms but the boy began to wail.
Jakon clamped a hand over the boy’s mouth but, from the looks of passersby in the street, they were grateful someone was taking the boy off their hands.
“Let’s get out of here,” Kepriah ordered.
As they left the alley and got back onto the main street, Patrice felt apprehension from Kepriah and she gave a worried glance to Larisa. Those bounty hunters could still could be in town.
Between Jakon, Palith, and his men, they managed to keep the kid from screaming all the way down the main street. Once they made it to the jabbers, Jakon handed the boy over to Palith. The kid didn’t try to hide his fear and struggled in vain against Palith’s strong arms.
“Stop that,” Kepriah ordered. “We are not bounty hunters. I just let that man think we were so we could get you out of there.”
“You not here to kill me?”
“No. Unless you keep screaming like a little idiot. Then I might think about it.” He seemed to get his wits and she nodded for Palith to release him.
“What you want with me?”
“We want you to come with us. I cannot explain it all now but there will be food and coin for you.”
He grinned, showing off several rotting teeth that Patrice had not noticed in her vision, and swiped a sleeve across his runny nose. Patrice wondered whether he was a bit slow. This can’t be the one Gail is supposed to marry. The girl gave him a wide berth even now. She would never agree to marry him.
Kepriah dug a chunk of bread and cheese from her saddlebag and gave it to the boy. As he inhaled the food, Patrice beckoned her sisters several feet away. Kepriah nodded for Jakon to follow.
“This can’t be the future ruler of the Pewter Throne,” Patrice said.
Kepriah glanced at the boy. “I will admit he’s not what I expected. But the visions do not lie.”
“No,” Larisa said. “But our interpretation might be wrong.”
“True. Jakon, what do you think? Do you see this boy trained as a great leader?”
“I do not, Nobles. He does not seem all there, if you know what I mean?”
“Yes.” Kepriah stepped back to the kid as Patrice and the others followed. “What’s your name, boy?”
“Algen, ma’am,” he said through a mouthful.
“Algen. Who is the Commander that man back in the alley talked of?”
“Commander gives—discipline. Got a mean temper that one. Meanest I ever seen. Run an old woman through just for beggin’.” He smiled. “Algen’s fast. Commander never catch me. Moirai got me on a task. Told me to wait here, give my message for silver coin.” His eyes brightened and he swiped a sleeve across his lips. “You got silver? I got a message for silver.”
Patrice’s finger suddenly began to tingle and she glanced at her sisters. Both gave her looks that said they felt something similar from their Faytools.
“Well, here goes nothing.” Kepriah dug out a silver coin from her purse and held it up so the boy could see it. “Message first. Then you get the coin.”
His gaze stayed on the coin as he licked his lips. He dug into his pocket, drew out a dirty scroll, and handed it to Kepriah.” She unlaced it and unrolled it. All the while, the boy held his hand out for the coin. “Let me read it first.” After a moment, Kepriah let out a string of curses and shoved the scroll into Patrice’s hands.
She managed to catch it by a corner and read it as Larisa leaned over her shoulder, a genealogical tree spanning several generations of royalty. At the bottom, the last generation, was Damon of the Cities of Sleep and his half-sister, Kepriah of Landerbury.
Patrice nearly dropped the scroll.
Chapter 32
Darkness enveloped her, and though she felt no pain, something was terribly wrong. She could no longer feel her body. Her eyes and ears seemed not to work, or else there was nothing to see or hear. Where am I? Her memory seemed lost and she could not remember her name, where she had been just moments ago, or what she had been doing.
Her body seemed to float in this place, until she felt something hard hit her in the back and she found herself on a hard surface, staring up at a dark ceiling. Orange light emanated from somewhere nearby.
Thank the Moirai I am not blind and deaf! Memories came back in pieces and she forced her mind to work. Kepriah. She escaped. Forced me to go with her using that bloody scepter. That little bitch. It was supposed to be my magic. Nyanan sat up and glanced around. A surge of panic drove her to her feet and into a blind run. Something crunched beneath her steps and she tripped and pitched forward.
“You do not belong here,” a man’s voice said from behind her. She scrambled up and spun around. A dark figure, half man, half shadow stood not five feet from her, red eyes focused on her. “You need to go to the river.” One arm pointed to the murky water just ahead. “Step into the river. Here, let me help you.” He reached for her arm.
She stepped back. “I remember you. You are the Guardian of the Hollow.”
“How do you know that? No one who comes here the way you have knows that.”
She took exception to his questions. “I have been here before. You tried to chase me out several times with your idiotic warnings. You old fool. I cannot be chased from the Hollow. I am Nyanan.”
He took a small crystal from his purse and held it to one red eye, then smiled and shook his head. “You are no longer Nyanan. Another has been born to take your place. Your task is done. Come to the river.”
“What do you mean I am not Nyanan, you daft old fool?” Then the rest of the memories slammed into her. Kepriah, the Trine, Jakon, the gash in her neck. She had dishonored the tribe, betrayed her ancestors and the Moirai, the ultimate crime among her people.
“You know what I must do, Grandmother,” Jakon had said, his hot breath on her neck.
Shame. It was almost unbearable now. She had shamed her ancestors, her village, her people. She had done the last honorable thing she could by letting him take her without a fight. “I am dead.”
The Guardian seemed surprised. “Not many realize that. You must go to the river.”
“Soul River.”
“Yes. You must go and be reborn. Come now.” He seemed in an awful hurry to get her into that murky water.
Is it because I know too much? “What if I refuse?”
He shook his head. “Then you will walk as a shadow in the Hollow and know the pain and suffering you had in your life. You must go to the river.” With that, he reached for her arm again.
She stepped just out his grasp. “I paid my debts with my life. I am released of that pain now. I am a powerful woman. Powerful in magic.”
“No longer. The dead have no power.”
That did not sit well with her. Larisa had the power to converse with the dead using that talisman of hers, only the silly girl did not even realize that. Perhaps all was not lost. She could wait here by the river for the Trine’s next visit. But what if they do not come? Previously, they had come only because she had dragged Kepriah here against her will.
Perhaps she could find the Trine in their sleep again. Perhaps she could gain power over—What are you thinking, you idiot woman? Have you not dishonored your ancestors enough? But they are not here to torture me or remind me of my misdeeds. I paid that debt with my life. No one is here but the cursed Guardian, a shadow of a man trying to coax me into a filthy river. And just why is he so worried about my eternal spirit?
“I do not believe you about the river,” she said. “I believe I still have power in this place. The Hollow connects to the dream world and I knew how to tap into both when I was alive. I should be able to do it spirit form, as well.” She saw what she perceived as a twitch on his shadowy face. Aha! He is nervous. “In fact, I am guessing I can cross those barriers even easier as a spirit than as a living person.”
That got a headshake from the old Guardian. “Fool. You rebellious spirits cross into the world of the
living and leave me to clean up the mess. Just go to the river. You are due for rebirth.”
So, she could go to the living, to the Trine. Perhaps she could regain some of her power there. Her ancestors would not have allowed her to realize that if she were not meant to be part of the hoisting. Maybe I was supposed to be one of the Trine, and the Moirai have realized Their mistake. Are They giving me another chance?
She felt real and whole. This body felt genuine, as did her mind. Everything she was in life she was in death, whether anyone in the living world would see her or not. Honor sat on a nearby rock to contemplate her future as the Guardian wandered off, shaking his head and mumbling to himself.
Chapter 33
Patrice, still holding the scroll, tried to steady herself against Kepriah’s fury and found that she had clung to Larisa for support. She realized the Trine’s combined emotions were at play here, stronger than ever. She looked up from the scroll as Kepriah strapped the wrapped scepter to the saddle.
The warrior woman then lunged for Algen, grabbing him by the front of his tunic. “Just what are you playing at, boy? Bringing me a scroll like that?” She drew her right arm back to deliver a blow but Jakon and Palith intervened. It took both men to get her off the boy.
Jakon held Kepriah back. “Noble. He is not the one to be upset with. He’s just a boy, a messenger.”
Kepriah quit struggling and shook Jakon off, her anger fading somewhat against Patrice’s senses. Kepriah took in a deep breath. “You are right, Jakon.” She pushed a silver coin into the frightened boy’s hand. “You are not the one I’m angry with. Palith, get him on one of the jabbers and let us get away from here before dark.” One hand snatched the genealogical chart from Patrice and shook it. “I want to know who in hell and Hollow is playing games with us.”