Shadows of Aggar (Amazons of Aggar)

by Chris Anne Wolfe

  † † †

  Time passed much too slowly this day. Diana and her small companion skirted the Priory perimeter’s woods, evading the patrols — avoiding confrontation, a thing neither of them did easily. Their temperaments were matched; revenge would have been sweet. But their purpose bid patience, so sword and claw remained sheathed.

  They traveled lightly, both expert in this game of stealth, both well-versed in the forest’s ways. But still the day dragged on. Plans formed, dissolved and re-wove in the depths of Diana’s mind as they scouted the roads and defenses of the mountain stronghold. A plan began to unfold but impatience dictated another should be found; she did not want another day to pass. The thought of Elana in their power… But entry was not their only goal, and impatience must to be curbed… yes, perhaps there was a way.

  † † †

  Elana sang softly as her fingers worked in the dimness. The cold seemed far away as she rocked in time to the music, and the faintest of smiles pulled at her lips. The words warmed her in a way the rough spun tunic never could; they were the songs of praise — of beginnings that Di’nay had sung that last morning to greet the rising sun.

  The Old Mistress taught, “Have patience, and your foes will stumble.”

  Her jailors had erred in two ways on their last appearance. The Sergeant had dropped a tunic over her huddled figure with a nameless grunt, thinking she was unconscious. The other man had muttered something incoherently through a mouthful of his eventide meal. The Sergeant had snapped back that her food rations were not to be tampered with. But as Elana inwardly shuddered from the rising violence of their interactions, she had grasped much more as they turned to leave.

  From their brief exchange above her, she had understood that they were to feed her twice a day. That was their first mistake. She now knew how to track time here.

  Their second mistake was the life signs they brought and left her. They had taken care with the tunic to choose an old piece whose linen was faded. The fiber had almost lost any trace of the aging plant stems of its origin. The thing had been laundered last in the boiling kettles of the Priory’s washers. But the tunic had lain untouched in wooden closets of its owner for too long; it had absorbed the steady pulse of blackwood. It helped now to warm her skin and to comfort her ache.

  They had thought it necessary to clothe her better in order to ensure her survival. The Maltar wanted her alive, mindless but breathing, and he undoubtedly would have taken someone else’s life if thwarted by carelessness — she wasn’t supposed to die of hypothermia. So perhaps their risk was understandable. Yet they should have asked someone — someone with more grasp of this isolating torture. Then they would have sent one of the Seer’s robes or blankets to her — something tainted with the power of the Maltar’s amarin.

  The one man’s munching stupidity had compounded their error. The crisp fruit of his eventide meal had touched the air with a tangy scent, and carelessly seeds had fallen as he turned to leave, biting into the sweet meat. Another two steps of patience and he would have been beyond that doorway, and the precious bits would have meant nothing. But he had not waited and the seeds had remained within.

  Three seeds. Above weapons, above keys… if she could have chosen a tool for survival, would she have been wise enough to choose these? But the Mother was heard even in the darkest of Fates’ Cellars, and Her wisdom was infinitely vast.

  The seeds were smaller than her thumbnail, but they held the essence of life itself. Irregular ovals of a woody texture, they shimmered a gold-white in the darkness, and suddenly the inky black dissolved. Dimly the interior of the circular chamber became visible, and Elana had felt her spirits lift. The pulsing chorus of life filled her, and she felt the terrors recede.

  She worked now, braiding the thin, woolen strands from the knits into a more deadly type of string. It would not be much of a weapon against sword blades, but it would fit a man’s neck in closer combat.

  Her singing was almost inaudible, but silence was too barren. When she got the small seeds, her reasoning began to clear more quickly. Then the silence did not need to be so empty, so dependent on the monotonous trickle of the water.

  She again practiced her Sororian and that led to the Songs of Helen. There were words she was still unsure of, and she fleetingly wished Di’nay were here to ask, but it was dangerous to have such wishes. She was learning to be careful for what she wished. She remembered once, at Melysa’s, how she had wished for a chance to die before the end of this venture. She had thought that would be easier than sending Di’nay back to her people.

  Easier? Here she had tried to die and failed. Her body’s memory rekindled the cruel touch of the men — the evil of the Maltar’s voice. She shut her eyes, closing out the feelings — sending them back to the locked corners of her mind. Her breathing did not want to be steadied. Her stomach wanted to be sick. But she would not deal with this now. If she lived to rejoin Di’nay, she would face the memories — face the insanity — the burning blackness that dove for her very soul. If she could ever rejoin Di’nay, there would be time to heal.

  Time? Would there ever truly be the time? She would survive long enough to seek a way out of this chamber or long enough to die with her secrets, but did she expect escape from this room would mean freedom?

  No, she would not think beyond leaving this room. And if she did leave it, she would not lead the Seer to Di’nay — she would not. Perhaps she could even lead them away.

  † † †

  The eitteh growled faintly, tail slashing about Diana’s ankles. An echo of retreating boots carried the length of the stone halls, and, cautiously, Diana peered around the corner. The winged-cat lay low to the ground between her feet. The rhythmic switch of its tail against her calf was steadying, Diana drew a slow breath. It was a nice reminder that she could trust this seemingly unguarded route. Twice they had come across sentries, and both times the eitteh had warned her of their approach. Despite her misgiving, she was beginning to trust this extra pair of ears.

  The whole thing was going too smoothly. Either the Maltar had grown overconfident with his capture of a Council spy or this was, somehow, a trap.

  Still, regardless of whether she was captured or not, his mechanical defense was at an end. She had reprogrammed the decoder to scramble the electrical circuit to overload the system. She had also traced the powerlines back to the solar generators and had the grim satisfaction of knowing that the technology was beyond their ability to rebuild once destroyed. Actually, it was surprising to find Garrison had used the solar batteries from his space cruiser since there was so little sun in this region. But the defense system used relatively little power compared to a cruiser.

  It had been impossible to get into the solar-paneled greenhouses that held the batteries, but Diana had been close enough. Her malleable plastique compound was powerful enough to crumble a small mountain; it would certainly destroy batteries. She had placed explosives around the area and set them, she hoped, to go off shortly after the laser guns disintegrated. With luck, the men would assume the intruder was moving south to north. It might buy them a few moments’ grace.

  Something they would need, Diana admitted grimly, and she moved down the hall — the echoing steps finally gone. She had no illusions about Elana’s abilities to travel quickly; she wasn’t in the mood to entertain Garrison’s limitations. She suspected since he had been so quickly cooperative with the Maltar, he might well resist leaving and he’d likely be useless on horseback in any case. It couldn’t be helped. Horses and carts were about all that this Priory kept at hand, and carts did poorly without roads and were too slow.

  The three beasts she had chosen had been sturdy, smaller creatures. There had been others in the grazing herd that certainly would have been swifter, but they would have been missed sooner too. Diana was gambling that these animals would not be particularly noticed or missed for some time. She supposed she should have risked stealing their tack as well, at least for Garrison, but there were l
imits to what could be done in a few hours.

  Her gloved fingers tensed and flexed over the hilt of her bared sword. The glowing heat of the embedded lifestones was stronger than it had ever been before. Her palms sweated slightly. The corridor forked abruptly, so she ducked into a shadowy corner, alert for sounds from either direction.

  Nothing came, and she inched ahead only to halt again.

  Which way now?

  Diana had been steadily working her way down ever since entering the main building of the fortress. Elana had said the dungeons were in the lower levels. It had seemed the most likely place to start her search. All she had was the hope that the warmth of the lifestone would be a guide. Now neither of these routes appeared to rise or descend. She guessed she was as deep as the foundations went.

  So which way? She pulled off a glove for a moment, to feel the stone better.

  The eitteh paced curiously across the yawning portals and, rumbling indecisively, sat down between the two. No help there.

  † † †

  Elana blinked and moved her head slightly, trying to ward off the sudden dizziness. She stopped in her exercises and lowered herself to the floor, feeling her disorientation grow. The small seeds before her blurred, and she strained to clear the fuzziness. With a shallow breath she closed her eyes, rubbing her forehead. For a moment she thought the eitteh had been sitting there.

  The dull rush and thud of her blood suddenly pounded through her ears and her chest felt tight. A sharp pain stabbed her heart, making her gasp, and finally she realized the strain of her body for what it was — the aching bond of the lifestone. But it was too soon, she thought desperately, and her fingers fumbled with the leather wristband. It was too soon! It had barely been more than a day — it couldn’t — dear Mother don’t let Di’nay be hurt!

  The lacings yielded and the shimmering opal depths met her questioning eyes. The ruby-blue lines pulsed steadily, but the stone was growing hot.

  Her vision blurred, and Elana saw a flash of silver in torches’ light… then gone.

  Think.

  She tried to slow her breathing.

  Think. The Mistress or Master would have said something about this. It was not an ending — the pulse was too steady. But it was hot — sizzling hot, like the day of bonding. The joining? The stone’s power commanded her body.

  She looked again and saw nothingness — not even the precious stone. Then suddenly the darkness lifted as if fingers uncurled from before her eyes, and she could see. The eitteh sat between two passageways and the torch light flickered brightly.

  It was gone again, but the stone grew hotter, more demanding, and her neck ached with the pressure of blood that made her ears roar.

  In some the Sight works through the stone, with the help of the lifestone, the Mistress had once said. Elana blinked again and wondered if it could be true even here. But it was so rare — so very rare.

  She concentrated and forced her breathing to be even and deep. With blue eyes fixed on the glimmering white depths, she reached inward and sought Di’nay.

  She saw the forked tunnels clearly outlined by a bright glow of blazing torches, and the gold body of the eitteh sitting almost immobile, only that subtle twitch of her tail in motion. Di’nay stood staring perplexed at the sword held before her — the shining blade flat upon her open palms. The green gloves seemed almost black in contrast to the silver-white of the metal. The heat of the sword sent shimmering waves through the air. The hilt was a white haze, coursing with ruby lines.

  Elana realized suddenly that this sword — her father’s gift — was the key to their newfound strength. She focused her attention on the paths ahead of Diana. She did not know the way from the grand hall above, but — the stones could find the way! Her hand closed as if to clasp the hilt of the sword — and the stones knew.

  † † †

  The weapon swiveled in Di’nay’s grasp; the hilt swinging towards the left corridor as if someone there was grasping it. Stunned, Di’nay balanced the weapon carefully in its new position, wary of the clattering noise that dropping it would cause. But the sudden jerk was not repeated. She looked into the depths of the passageway and again at the sword.

  Tentatively she closed her gloved hands over the hilt and felt the pull beneath her fingers. Again it directed her to the left passage.

  The eitteh rose with a rumble and padded a few steps down the hall, pausing when she realized the human was still standing.

  Di’nay nodded with her decision then and reclasped her fingers about the hilt. She joined the winged-cat.

  † † †

  The images faded, and released from their grip, Elana closed her eyes and remembered to breathe again. Di’nay was coming.

  She had not thought — she had not expected the Amazon to seek her out. She had not thought of what Di’nay would do at all. All she had wanted was to protect Di’nay from the Seer’s attention.

  Those with the Blue Sight seldom unraveled the plots of others, she reminded herself. We see so much but do not understand. She felt guilty at crediting Di’nay with so little involvement. Partners — did that not mean each looked after the other? Did that not mean that they would work together?

  Perhaps — Elana felt a warmth rise with her tears — perhaps she would truly see her love again

  † † †

  Chapter Fourteen

  Two men disappeared down the far passageway with a metallic plate of bread and unlit torches. Diana noted the remaining soldier was still half-asleep as he stared at his breakfast. A grumbling call came from a chamber off to the side, and the man at the table grunted something, pointing behind himself at the bubbling pot of breakfast porridge on the fire….

  † † †

  Elana drew a steadying breath as that outer bolt began to slide. She squatted near the door, back against the wall, and the faint glimmer of the seeds urged her on. Then suddenly, the bolt jammed home again and muffled voices broke out in argument. She swallowed hard, fighting the knot of panic inside, and concentrated.

  Across from the doorway, against the stone wall, the rags of her underknits sat in a heap, cradling one of the three seeds. From nothingness she could create nothing, but the glowing embers of life gave her much more to work with — enough even to discard the violence associated with those clothes. Beneath her blue touch the illusion grew, and the remnants became a huddled figure of an unconscious woman. Beside the doorjamb, another seed nestled between metal and stone — safely tucked where the careless foot would not crush it. But she breathed and the space between the two seedlings stretched. Another illusion, this one designed to draw her unwitting guards further into the room. The last seed lay securely folded between tunic and belt; this one she would carry with her.

  Her palms felt damp; the newly woven rope was wrapped around each hand. She did not doubt that it would hold. It was her own strength that she was less sure of, but there was the chance that she would not have to test herself or her weapon…

  † † †

  Diana waited a moment longer, but there was only one voice that came from the side room. She looked at the eitteh and slowly sank down to her knees. Across the room near the hallway that the two men had trudged down, there was wood stacked for the fire. Diana pointed. The eitteh rumbled so quietly that Diana felt it through the soles of her feet rather than heard it, and the animal slid off.

  The fire burned brightly and torches lined the room, chasing away many of the darkened shadows with their flickering fingers, and the creature went soundlessly, slipping around the edges and across the open passage. Without a noise, the eitteh disappeared into the dark crevice behind the wood. She would slow the pair, if they returned to help.

  Diana stepped forward, sword drawn.

  Too much happened at once then… the man at the table glanced up at the sound of a returning guard in the far corridor and saw the Amazon just as the soldier appeared with an unlit torch in hand.

  Green eyes sought Diana for an instant. As the v
oice from the chamber beyond materialized into a sergeant, the two acted as one.

  With a cry Diana arched her blade and the eitteh lunged. The table heaved forward as the man fled the singing sword — as the torchbearer shrieked, claws opening his face. A grasping hand fell across a burning branch in the fire, and Diana jumped back from the flaming club, spinning as she met the sergeant’s sword….

  † † †

  Only one finally entered the cell. Elana breathed carefully, fixing her eyes on the far wall to keep from being blinded. Now it was her turn to pull the darkness into a cloak around her. The soldier walked in, his crackling laugh coming as he saw only the unconscious heap across the room. He took another step.

  She came from behind, stepping between his legs to pull his ankle back. Her elbow drove into his kidneys. With a cry of pain and surprise he fell, torch and plate flying from his grasp. In an instant she was out. The bolt closed with a steely clang.

  Dropping low she huddled against the iron door and listened. Usually there were two of them. Where was the other?

  On the stone floor beside her lay a wisp of molding cloth — a torch scrape. And she had her answer. The other’s torch had been too poorly made to kindle.

  A dull thud came through the thick metal as fists pounded within. She ignored it. That was a Seer’s Tomb… the door was too thick to allow much sound in — or out.

  Elana turned to look and understood why there had been no light or sound passing through the door jamb. Directly in front of her cell stood a mammoth wall of the same ancient stone. It essentially blocked everything that might have seeped in through the cracks.

  Cautiously then she edged about the barrier. She moved slowly because of the pain in her right hip and to let her eyes adjust to the torchlight. The light was not quite as bright as she had feared; the seeds’ amarin had guarded against that too.