Shadows of Aggar (Amazons of Aggar)

by Chris Anne Wolfe

  “Such nonsense,” Melysa scoffed. “Compared with successfully entering any of Maltar’s strongholds, Changlings will be easily dealt with.”

  Somehow that did not reassure Diana. But they were talking of saving a great deal of time, if they did not need to go around the mountains on the way back, and with Maltar’s forces following them that might be essential.

  “The entrance is easily enough found this season. They’re just beginning at the next dig. They met with all sorts of delays trying to burrow in at the last place. So many foolish injuries and the like. Although, it was their own fault. The stuff was much too soft to be tunneling through safely, even I could see that.” Melysa gave a disgusted snort. “You see — it was their foolish accidents that took me to them. They needed my skills and couldn’t have cared less about letting an old witch discover the whereabouts of their precious tunnel.”

  “But then won’t they suspect it was you who told us?” Diana asked with concern. “If you are the sole outsider with that knowledge, will we be endangering you by challenging the route?”

  “Don’t be a silly youth.” Melysa straightened primly. “Even if they were smart enough to figure it out, which I doubt, the fact is that they need a healer and I’m the only one stubborn enough to live here. And, they would certainly rather brave the Council’s wrath than my friends here.”

  “Your friends.” Diana looked confused. She had seen no other humans in the vicinity. Elana hid her amusement behind her long hair.

  “Eitteh, dear.” Melysa tapped the little nose beside her cheek and the animal blinked, waking disgruntled, staring at the offending digit a moment, then rubbing its chin against her hand with a purr.

  “Men — especially Council’s men — reason and weigh the consequences of any action. My little eitteh friends here live by simpler rules. They would seek out the Changlings responsible for my death and the entire tribe would suffer, not just the individual assassins.” She looked at the placid creature, scratching the dark furred ears on request. “Have no fear, young warrior. The Changlings have good reasons to leave me to my foolishness — reasons even their savage little minds can fathom.”

  † † †

  “Tell me more of the Wayward Path?” Diana asked. They were following the river through an echoing canyon. There was no real track, but rather a rocky shoulder that skirted the water’s edge, supporting a scraggly array of trees and brush.

  “What would you like to know?” Elana’s soft step barely paused, her eyes fixed on the stream bed’s smooth stones. She noticed Di’nay rarely spared a glance for her footing, and she fleetingly envied the confidence gained from a lifetime’s experience of wandering across strange lands. The eitteh rumbled something that Elana pointedly ignored. If the animal did not like riding draped over a joggling pack, then she could take herself off to fly.

  “Why did you agree to go this way if you are sure it is so dangerous?”

  Elana frowned, dividing her attention between her feet and their discussion. “May I ask you something?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Your amarin suggest that you find the Wayward Path route appealing. Why?”

  “Less distance to travel, and, perhaps,” Diana admitted matter-of-factly, “I do not fully understand the drawbacks.”

  “With me as guide the greatest difficulty is gaining entrance. I admit that it will save us several ten-days, if we are successful.”

  “With you as guide?”

  Elana’s voice softened, anticipating the anxiety her words might bring. “The Wayward Path is an ancient mine.” She tried not to flinch at the strength of the fear that rushed through her lover. “Its tunnels twist and fold with both man-made and volcanic tunnels.”

  Diana’s throat tightened with the press of childhood memories. She said, her voice controlled, “I thought you did poorly beneath stone — without some sort of organic contact? Wouldn’t your Sight trouble you?”

  “Mines trouble you more,” Elana pointed out gently, halting to face her. “But these are different, Di’nay. They yield lifestones, not gems or metal ores. The Seers have shown me how many of the tunnel walls glitter with white dust and shimmering veins. They glisten with the very life energy of this planet.” Her eyes returned from some far seen place and she smiled. “In truth, these tunnels are not all dark and dingy ore shafts.”

  “Why did not the Council mention the Path to me?”

  “Aside from the fact that you are an off-worlder and they never intended you to see any lifestone apart from for our bondstone, the mines are not easily accessible. As Melysa said, the Changlings are very protective. They constantly seal caverns and tunnel new entrances to protect their ancient right to whatever trade in lifestones the Council still allows. The wastelands have little game and even less grazing. Each tribe manages a small herd and a few hunters, but the stones are their true treasure. The Council pays well. In their turn, the Changlings agree to limit trade and harvest little.

  “So the Council has forbidden you to show me this Path.”

  Elana sighed. “You must see that the Council is right. If outsiders like Garrison should understand the power of the lifestones…? I know you would not betray the power of the stones to the Terrans. But the Council does not know you as I do. And I did wish to spare you that temptation.”

  Elana went on, “But if, as Melysa said, the current entrance is near the Changlings’ settlement below the Dual Peaks, then it is a very viable route. Once inside I should have no trouble keeping to the Path. Undoubtedly there will be a few miners at work in the deeper caverns. There always are. But even if we can’t avoid them, there will not be many in number, and my Sight will allow us to slip by them.”

  Elana did not describe the labyrinth of endless twisting tunnels, broken only by lava pits and seemingly bottomless crevices. Diana did not need to think about that. She did say, “On the southern side of the Divide, there are streams and underground channels that run to meet the Black River. The main tributary guides the Path only the last twenty leagues or so — as it leaves the mountains. Until then, the route is not clearly marked.”

  It did not sound like a terribly endearing place, Diana thought. But they were not talking about saving days. They were talking about several ten-days or even a monarc, if they could indeed travel under these mountains instead of around them. “Does your Sight allow you to follow this route despite its poor markings?”

  “It will help.” Elana touched her wrist where stone lay beneath the black leather band. “I wear the lifestone. The very walls of the caverns will speak to me. The Blue Sight will make me sensitive to their energies, but it is our lifebond that will allow me to guide us.” Elana touched the sword that her father had wrought. “And your stones will let you feel the pull, perhaps too indistinctly to avail us much. But danger, dead ends, abrupt chasms, you might be aware of as we approach them.”

  Elana lifted her blue eyes to Di’nay’s solemn gaze. “If we should become separated in the caverns, I might find you through this stone… but never Garrison.”

  Diana nodded. Elana’s concerns bore thinking about. A picture of complete blackness, the coppermine of her childhood, flashed through her mind and she shivered. But there was so much at stake that she knew they had no alternative.

  A light warmth reached out, slipping around her. Diana glanced up and found Elana’s gentle gaze on her. She smiled, the fears inside easing a little as she remembered — this time, she wasn’t alone.

  † † †

  Diana sighed faintly, unobtrusively flexing the sore muscles in her back as she relinquished her armful of firewood. Considering how weak she still was, they had done very well today. But she had to admit that she was tired. The water tumbled through the late afternoon stillness as the riverbed twisted and ducked behind the brush and canyon rock, turning east again. A splash broke the tumbling rhythm, and Diana’s head jerked towards the sound only to see the eitteh pounce on some unsuspecting river creature.

  “�
�and I’ll wager you’ll still want some of ours.” The Amazon couldn’t help smiling as her gaze shifted to Elana. Nearer the shore, the woman stood beside the open packs with a string of eel-like fish at her feet. She too had paused to watch the river antics of the winged-cat.

  Diana started down the slope as the eitteh lunged again. Water splayed and wings spread as the silver river creature twisted and turned beneath the batting paw. Elana laughed, shaking her head, and Diana’s arms slid around her in a warm hug.

  “You’re looking very happy, Ona.”

  “And why shouldn’t I?” Elana challenged softly, falling into Di’nay’s Sororian as she leaned contentedly back into her Amazon’s grasp. Her hands slipped beneath her lover’s suede jerkin. “I have you healthy and whole — and all to myself. There is not a spy to be seen. We’re far beyond even the searching blue eyes of the Seers in these rocky canyons… and it has been so very long since we’ve been alone. So tell me, why should I be anything but happy, n’Athena?”

  A smile danced in Diana’s brown eyes as she listened to Elana’s rich warm voice. She liked the sound of Sororian when Elana spoke it, and the fit of Elana’s hands.

  “What makes you smile so?”

  “Your accent — it reminds me of home.”

  “It should.” Elana pretended to be indignant.

  Diana’s smile deepened. “Do you know what I think about when you speak?”

  “No,” her voice was soft now, “tell me.”

  “It seems as if we are home, out somewhere on an early autumn night, tending the yearlings or the cattle beasties. Tomorrow we’ll be back down in the lowlands to find a warm meal in the adobe.” A touch of reality crowded her image and she amended, “A warm meal and a clamoring clutch of children.”

  “A clutch you very much miss,” Elana pointed out gently. “Perhaps, after all, you should find a mate who will bear you a child.”

  “Would you do that?” Diana asked, almost teasing. “If we were… home?”

  “I would be most honored,” Elana returned flippantly, but the direction of the conversation was becoming painful. She hugged Diana quickly, almost awkwardly. “I suppose you’re going to insist on an equal share of the work again tonight?”

  Off guard from the sudden withdrawal, Diana said, “Certainly, we’re partners.”

  “Would you like to set up the tent or clean the catch?”

  Diana’s practical sense reasserted itself along with her humor. “I’ve never coped with one of your healer’s field tents. I barely remember what they look like.”

  “Then this one would be a complete mystery to you. I trust you’ve seen silver fish before?”

  That drew a suitable chuckle. “As a matter of fact, I have.”

  † † †

  The night breeze blew softly through the canyon. Elana breathed the rich scent of green and good earth that drifted with the folding air currents. It came from downstream somewhere.

  By her side the water splashed and tumbled over itself in a pleasant monotony. It was strange to think that it would take them two days to reach the banks of the Ma’naur — two days of steady marching before they glimpsed the thick pine forests of Maltar’s lands. Yet these jostling waters passing her now would find those vast rumbling depths before the sun had even risen.

  And the green scents? She could not begin to guess what their journey had been like. But the tantalizing wisps of air were still vibrant and alive, so they could not have taken long in their travels.

  A pair of wings rustled far overhead, and Elana scanned the bright stars, wondering if it was the eitteh. But the wind had tossed the sound into their canyon, leaving the creature beyond her Sight.

  She poked the dying embers with a stick. There was little chance of seeing her furry friend before sunrise. The eitteh was a nocturnal creature and doubtless had far to go to hunt; if she was bothering to hunt at all. After so many days spent underground with the healer, the eitteh was as delighted to be out as Elana, and both were reveling in their freedom tonight.

  Melysa’s had not been so awful, Elana admitted. There had been timber, dry food stocks, and an abundance of medicinal herbs and roots, all reassuring in their amarin. Di’nay, too, had been there. Still….

  Again Elana inhaled the wind’s sweet scents; she had missed the unencumbered richness of the living things. She gazed downstream, her blue eyes drawn to the faint outlines of the thorny trees. Their dull brown twigs shone with a pale gray of life in the darkness. A glimpse of silver flashed under the water — a fish that vanished even as it came. The faintest of speckles dotted the streamside rocks — algae, and a misty outline of late autumn waterflys danced between the rocks and thorn trees.

  So much in such a small world that even she took for granted. But how strange it would be, she thought, to be so isolated from those flowing cycles that you could blithely choose to live underground in stone.

  The time spent at the healer’s had helped. She was stronger for the rest and good diet — stronger in her love for Di’nay too. The time they had spent talking had been different from the snatches of conversation they had managed earlier — less plagued by the demands of their journey — less frequently interrupted by the desires of their bodies. Her story, Di’nay’s Sisters called it, an accounting of past deeds, almost forgotten memories — of families and homes. They had shared much that neither would report to Council nor Sisterhood, but was part of their bond — a bond that went beyond the intimacy of a lifestone.

  For those of Aggar, lifebonding was an intimacy few could cherish. Yet what she shared with this woman was only enhanced by their bondstone and her Sight — neither were the source of it. It seemed odd when she thought of how very different their worlds — their people. And yet it was Di’nay that always called her Sight a ‘gift.’ Her father had accepted the Sight as a sort of shorthand for expressing emotion, but Di’nay did more. It was Di’nay who cherished the images that she, Elana, had to share. Different was simply different to Di’nay — a piece of the whole — one characteristic of an individual. To Di’nay she was not just special because she was different, she was different because she was special.

  Her heart warmed with the knowledge of their specialness — warmed and ached, remembering the stab of pain she had felt during their jesting about childbearing.

  She closed her eyes and breathed deeply as those faint lines of life about her reached out and embraced her. She felt the tension ease, felt the cherished, precious place she held in Di’nay’s heart — and the hurt faded to nothingness. Whatever parting would bring, she could not regret this sharing of theirs.

  Content, she looked behind herself to where the tent stood. A smile curved softly across her lips as the amarin touched her; Di’nay was stirring within.

  Time for sleeping. Elana aimlessly stirred the ashes. Tomorrow would present a long hike, but she still was not drowsy. The night air, the open space had roused her senses. No, she was feeling alive, alert, not at all sleepy. She would only keep Di’nay awake if she went to bed now. Still… Elana glanced at their tent again. Inside must be quite warm; their heating unit was set to a toasty temperature. She wondered if it was warm enough to coax Di’nay out of her fieldsuit.

  Surprised by such thoughts, Elana jerked her attention back to the orange embers. She had been mixing the glowing bits with the ash in her mindless tracings. Hastily she used the stick to pull them together, and, banking the fire, she saved it for the morning’s cooking. Determinedly, she tried to ignore the faint quaking in her hands; she felt rather like a trainee who was waiting for the Old Master to snap at some ineptness.

  Inept? At what? Her heart thudded painfully as Elana suddenly realized that their loving had never been at her invitation, it had always been at Di’nay’s. Since the repeated misunderstandings of their early days together, it seemed she had been content to follow Di’nay’s inclinations.

  Memories, images of Di’nay arching in that long, slow stretch as she was released from that magical blue
bond — the feel of satin-skinned muscles dissolving beneath her hands as Di’nay fell against her, nearly lost beneath Elana’s own black, black cape of silken hair. And Elana felt a new desire stir. She had never loved Di’nay without melding them together with the blue touch. She had never savored the trembling of that strong body against her own — held and felt her loving bring that beautiful woman pleasure — without that blue presence. Elana wanted that. Without the sharing of her Sight, she wanted Di’nay… to give to her alone… to slowly love her, and hold her, and selfishly know the pleasures she gave were hers alone to give.

  Desire flamed, and shivering from that sweet ache, she pulled her cloak more closely around her. A soft smile touched her lips as she turned toward the tent and found the drowsy tenderness of Di’nay’s amarin awaiting her. Her heart fluttered; she would be welcomed.

  † † †

  Chapter Eleven

  “Dear Mother and Goddess, what have these souls wrought?” Diana exclaimed.

  “It is quite a fortress,” Elana agreed quietly, a hand absently stroking the eitteh’s silken head as the animal growled from atop her pack. “The dungeons are in the lower levels. The cavalry and main garrisons are quartered on the northern side. The main gate is east, but there are dozens of smaller entrances, but none by which an army could invade, however. Some are better guarded than others.”

  They stood against the face of southern cliffs that overshadowed the dark river, Ma’naur. Below, the swirling waters claimed eight hundred feet or more before meeting the north shore. Beyond that rocky beach extended a hundred leagues of blackpines. They were thick, towering evergreens with green-black needles and branches that pushed and meshed against their neighbors — aged mammoths that had starved off competing plants by exiling the sun. They had survived fires and battles and mercilessly swallowed lost travelers. But the Maltar had good use for them. If a man knew the forests, its shadows lent his militia cover, and the gaping barrenness beneath its roof allowed unhindered movement of horse and soldier. Further north and in the west, the trees were harvested for shipyards and builders, but here the jagged crests were unbroken except for that single hill.