Sword Sisters

by Tara Cardinal

  “I’m so happy to see you!” he nearly sung. “I couldn’t believe it when I heard they’d taken you in Kelinda’s place. And then when they said you were back…well, I was delighted. You look no worse for the ordeal.” He fluffed at her dress, and she reached for his hand.

  “Yeah, I’m okay,” she agreed, clasping his hand in both of hers. “Connell, this is Aella, my friend. She saved my life.”

  “Amelia did her part too,” I said. Connell abandoned Amelia’s hand for mine and kissed it the way Keefe did sometimes.

  “Why didn’t you come see me, Connell?” Amelia asked, getting right to the point. “Last night or this morning?”

  “What? Well, gosh, Amelia. I just heard that you were back. I haven’t had a chance.”

  “You’ve had a chance to weed your garden.”

  He looked at her as if she were a petulant child. “Now, Amelia, don’t get all huffy. I was planning to come see you later today. And look! Don’t the zelanos look beautiful? They just bloomed today, almost as if they were welcoming you.” He pretend-batted his eyes at her. “So don’t be mad, okay?” His voice was the most unique I’d ever heard. It was both deep and sing-songy. And it cracked in the most interesting places.

  “Do you love me, Connell?”

  She certainly got right to the point. I liked that about her. But before Connell could answer, I heard a loud, snickering laugh from behind us.

  Three other boys, two about Amelia’s age and one younger, stood at the corner of the house. I did a quick evaluation, but none of them were Aaron either, which was good because I disliked them immediately.

  “Look,” the tallest one said, “three girly girls in the flower garden.” The other two laughed.

  “Shut up, Gaither,” Amelia said. “Don’t you have something to do?”

  “Oh, no, I love watching girly girls,” he said to more snickers and elbow nudges.

  There were Reapers like Connell: men who preferred to be fasted to other men and women to women. No one thought less of them, and certainly no one, human or Reaper, would tease them because of it. What kind of people were these? “Maybe the girls don’t want to be watched by boys like you,” I said.

  Gaither’s attention turned to me. “Well, if it isn’t the great god-killer. You know, I don’t think we’ve heard the real truth about this stuff. I don’t think a little girly girl like you could kill a kitten let alone Lurida Lumo.”

  “Here, kitty, kitty,” I said to him, eyes locked. Who talks about killing kittens? This boy needs to be stopped.

  Connell stepped protectively in front of me. “Now, now, let’s not get too ugly here. Gaither can’t afford it.” He smiled innocently.

  Gaither’s friends turned to him and said, “Oooooooh.”

  “You shut up,” Gaither said belligerently, but his cheeks were red. “Remember, I can kick your ass whenever I want, and you can’t do a thing about it. Neither can your folks. This is my village, and you just mince around in it until I get tired of seeing your face.”

  “His father’s an elder,” Amelia said. “He thinks it makes him immortal.”

  “Nothing’s immortal around here,” I said to her but with my gaze still on him.

  “Somebody needs to marry you off and show you what a real girl’s supposed to be like,” Gaither said.

  “Does he mean me or you?” I asked Amelia, still watching Gaither. He did not like my steady gaze.

  “Probably all three of us,” Connell smiled sadly. He was used to this sort of abuse. That pissed me off a little.

  “I pity the lady fasted to the guy who can’t tell the difference between a girl and boy. That’s going to make the wedding night awkward.”

  His toadies snickered again. Gaither started to say something then abruptly turned and led the others back around the house.

  “Will he be waiting for us?” I hoped. I needed a fight to blow off some steam. I wished I’d brought my sword if only because it would scare them off more permanently, but my bare fists would work just fine.

  “No, he’ll just run and tell daddy,” Connell mocked.

  “That could be trouble,” Amelia said.

  “No, he’ll whip Gaither for being a coward. Just like my daddy whips me for being—” He abruptly looked down then away.

  Amelia started to say something else, but she was too overwhelmed to get any words out. She touched his hair gently then grabbed my hand and said, “Come on, Aella, there’re other people for you to meet. Goodbye, Connell. Don’t bother coming by tonight.”

  #

  When we were back in the center of town, I finally just had to know. “Amelia, can I ask you something? Do you know a boy named Aaron or something like that? I might not have heard it correctly. He’d be about seventeen or eighteen now.”

  She thought it over. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t.”

  “Brown eyes, tall?” I pressed.

  “I can’t think of anyone like that.”

  Well, there was that. One less worry to weigh on me. I was disappointed of course, but before I could dwell on it, I spotted Damato again, leaving an offering at the shrine to Lurida Lumo. He glanced up, nodded again, then resumed his prayer.

  I wanted to get off the street, out of the open. “You said you wanted me to meet someone else,” I reminded her.

  “Yes, come on.” Again, people got out of our way and made little superstitious gestures in our direction. We left the town center and traveled down a well-worn foot path into the forest that surrounded the town. We reached a little hut, worn by time and lack of maintenance, wedged between two huge trees.

  Amelia knocked on the door. “Yazel? You in there?”

  “Where else would I be?” a woman’s voice said. “Stop knocking down the door and come in.”

  Amelia smiled at me. “She’s a lot of bluster. Don’t take it personally.”

  “I heard that!” the voice from inside said.

  As soon as we crossed the threshold, I knew this was a witch’s hut. But it was nothing like my memory of Diah’s. Hers had been all light and green, filled with sweet smells and beautiful, organic things. This one was packed with old books, scrolls, tablets, and anything else that might hold secrets. Vials and bottles lined the remaining shelves, and one table was cluttered with the devices used in making potions and charms.

  This Yazel was what my mother disparagingly called a Book Witch, someone with no native abilities, who made a determined effort to learn as much magic as possible. She felt these women—and they were almost always women—were dangerous loose crossbows in the magical world doing as much damage as they did good.

  And my first look at Yazel did not convince me otherwise. She was old, gray-haired, tall, and thin like some sort of insect. When she stood, it was like a mantis preparing to strike. Yet Amelia ran up and hugged her without hesitation, and those great stick-arms curled around my friend with gentleness. She jingled as charms, baubles, and trinkets clinked together.

  “Yazel, this is Aella,” Amelia said. “Aella, this is Yazel. She’s our wise woman.”

  Yazel stepped closer. Her eyes shone behind strands of her unruly gray hair as she looked at me with that same evaluating gaze everyone seemed to give me at first meeting. Was I that freakish looking? Then she reached out a hand, with fingers like a bundle of twigs, and touched my cheek. I tried not to flinch.

  “One of the Reapers,” she said softly. “Been many a year since I’ve seen one of you, and never one so young. I thought your kind couldn’t have children.”

  “I’m older than I look,” I said. This woman definitely gave me the creeps.

  “May I see your hand?”

  I extended my palm. She ran one ragged fingernail along the lines. “Has anyone read your lifelines before?”

  “No.”

  “Well, they should. You have secrets.”

  I tried to pull my hand away, but her grip on my wrist was stronger than I expected.

  “Don’t be afraid, little Reaper. In nature’s infinite
book of secrets, I can read but very little. Still…”

  I looked at Amelia. She nodded that it was okay. In this isolated place, Yazel must command a lot of respect, and I didn’t want to be rude, so I said nothing. I also didn’t snap the old stick-woman across my knee, both of which I considered big triumphs of self-control.

  “You have a great destiny in your future. You will be the last…of your kind?” She looked at me in wonder. “But before then…very soon, in fact…you will face the darkness you yourself have created.”

  I tried not to look skeptical. These were the kind of vague prophecies for sale at any mummer’s show or traveling conjurer’s fair.

  Then she got way more specific. “In the blue light of the darkness, you will see the face of your doom. His angels will be demons, and the thread that binds him will either free you or spell your end.”

  Now I grabbed her wrist. “You said demons. Is that with a big ‘D’ or a little ‘d?’”

  For a moment, she didn’t answer, and I realized that she’d been in a trance. She blinked back to the moment and replied, “I don’t know. Did I say demons?”

  “You did. And that’s not a word a Reaper likes tossed around lightly.”

  “The Demons were all destroyed, weren’t they?” Amelia said.

  We let the humans believe that. We’d driven the Demons away, but no one knew where or if it was permanent. I said, “Yes, the Demons are gone,” and waited to see if Yazel would contradict me. She did not.

  Instead, she picked up a bottle of something and took a long swig then wiped her mouth with her hand. She managed a very false casual smile and said, “I understand you killed Lurida Lumo.”

  “It seemed like the thing to do at the time,” I said.

  “You wouldn’t believe what Aella can—” Amelia began, but Yazel cut her off as if she hadn’t spoken.

  “I’ve tried to tell these people that there are no gods, but idiots like that Linwick keep them cowed by convincing them there are.”

  “You don’t believe in gods?” I asked.

  “Based on what I know, the universe is like a badly-wound toy, running in fits and starts. If a god did the original winding, he certainly hasn’t come back to make sure it’s running smoothly.”

  I smiled. That was exactly how I saw things.

  She offered me the bottle. “Want a drink, little Reaper?”

  Amelia seemed disturbed and a little annoyed that her friend had taken such a shine to me. I wanted to talk to Yazel some more, but my first loyalty had to be to Amelia. “No, thanks,” I said and offered her my hand. “It was a pleasure meeting you though. I hope to have a chance to speak with you again before I leave.”

  #

  As we walked back to Cartwangle, Amelia said, “That was weirder than I expected.”

  “She was interesting.”

  “You weren’t freaked out? I brought Connell out here once, and he was. She whispered something to him, and he turned white as a ghost.”

  I imagined that Yazel had seen the same things in Connell that I did. I hoped her whispered statement had been simple encouragement to be who he was and not pretend to be what his parents, Amelia, or the damn village thought he should be. I thought about opening up to her, telling her that my own mother was the Teller Witch. And then I thought better of it. “I’ve seen more weird stuff than Connell has, I’m pretty sure.”

  In a small voice she asked, “Did you like him?”

  “Very much so,” I said, truthfully

  “Do you think he loves me?”

  Oh, boy. I said carefully, “Amelia, I think he loves you as much as he possibly can.”

  She nodded. If she understood my ulterior meaning, she didn’t let on.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  I couldn’t sleep again that night. I was worried—mainly about the messenger Damato said he’d sent to Raggenborg. If Adonis had to send someone to fetch me, then I’d be in more trouble than I ever had been before. However, if I returned home on my own, I might be able to minimize the damage. But I couldn’t leave Amelia yet, not without being more certain she’d be safe. And after meeting the other citizens of Cartwangle, I was far from sure about that. At least that’s what I told myself. In truth, I couldn’t leave without at least a real search for Aaron. It was times like these I wish I’d been gifted as a tracker like Andre or Keefe.

  I slipped out of the little cottage and into the night. The street was deserted and most of the other houses dark. Yet before I’d gone three steps, another figure loomed out of the shadows.

  “Guilty conscience?” Damato said. He stopped far enough away that I wouldn’t think he was trying to get into sword range.

  “Is that a question or a confession?” I countered. And then I thought better of it. Maybe I shouldn’t be so hard on this guy. He was just doing his job. “Reapers don’t sleep.”

  “I’d heard that. I’ve also heard you don’t have souls.”

  “You show me yours, I’ll show you mine.” Am I flirting now? Wasn’t I coming out to search for Aaron? What is wrong with me? I tried not to notice his dark, hypnotic eyes.

  He cocked his head. “How old are you, anyway?”

  “In human years or Reaper years?”

  “Both.”

  “I’m ninety-five years old in human terms. About sixteen for a Reaper.” Ninety-five sounds very old. I wonder if I remind him of his grandmother now. Then I wondered why I was telling him this.

  He said nothing for a moment, and I suddenly realized why. He was evaluating me not as a threat but as a woman. He was attracted to me. How did that happen so fast? A moment ago, I thought…actually, I don’t know what I thought. When did this happen? How and when did I go from potential threat to potential mate?

  “That’s interesting,” he said at last. Finally, something we agreed upon.

  I felt a familiar old chill run up my spine. Demons had looked at me that same way from the day I arrived until I was rescued. Luckily, my voice didn’t tremble when I said, “Are you planning to spy on me the entire time I’m here?”

  “I’m not spying. If I was spying, I wouldn’t be talking to you. But you’re a god-killing Reaper, and I think that’s something worth keeping an eye on. These people—” He gestured at the sleeping village around us. “They depend on me to protect them from people like me. You’re more like me than you are them, so you’re part of my job.” He paused. “Did you ever know a Reaper named Andraste? Big, muscled-up guy with dark hair?”

  I was glad he couldn’t see my face clearly in the dark. “I might. What about him?”

  “I had a…difference of opinion with him once. Many years ago, when I was a young punk bandit. He did this.” He opened his tunic and showed me a scar that went from his collar bone down to his navel. I gasped. I couldn’t imagine many Reapers surviving a wound like that. This man must be strong indeed. It made me wonder what sort of soul he had to endure such a thing and still stand before me with no prejudice.

  Both he and the scar were gorgeous. He kept a warrior’s physique. I could drink water out of those chiseled abs. “Laid me wide open,” he continued. “I never knew I was so many different colors on the inside.”

  Mmmm. He said “laid me.” Then he lowered his tunic, and my brain began working again. I repositioned my jaw into a more becoming place, hoping he didn’t notice my appreciation of his incredible body.

  “You must’ve deserved it.” Ha! Great recovery!

  “Oh, I did. But then he carried me to the old healer that lives outside the village. Yazel? I think you met her. He made sure I’d survive before he left.” He paused. “Now what kind of person cuts you open then stuffs your insides back and stitches you up?”

  I knew. Andre was the most fair-minded person I’d ever known. And he must have given some of his own magical blood to Damato to aide in the healing process.

  I looked at Damato with a new understanding. “Maybe he saw something in you that he didn’t expect.”

  “Like my liver?” he
said with a chuckle. How incredible to have a sense of humor over something that traumatic. Is that an accent I was noticing? Damato must be from a faraway place indeed with his dark hair, dark eyes, and olive skin. “Anyway, the point to all that is, I don’t automatically hate Reapers the way some people do. I don’t understand you, but I don’t hate you. Or fear you, which you should remember. You can kill me probably. But maybe not before I kill you.” His words were threatening but his tone strangely calming. My body began to react. I felt the rise in pressure, signaling more blood. I was ready for action. But at the same time, this felt very, very different. What is this, exactly?

  “I don’t understand why you’re telling me this,” I said truthfully. What I understood even less was my reaction to the things he was saying.

  He stepped closer and put a hand against my cheek. “You’re beautiful, Aella. And terrifying. For a man like me, those are two very…exciting qualities in a woman.”

  I should’ve pushed his hand away and maybe broken his arm, but I was too surprised by my own response to do so. Up until now—and except for Aaron—I’d classed all humans (and all Reapers, for that matter) as either “enemy” or “not enemy.” My view of the world didn’t allow for the emotions this human was expressing. And as he pulled me toward him with surprising gentleness, I found myself going along with it. I should’ve been reliving all those times I was grabbed and used, but because he was gentle, I was too damned surprised to resist. And then I noticed: He wasn’t pulling me; I was moving closer to him. What was this? Something was happening to me, a kind of rising excitement I’d previously only felt in battle practice or when I risked getting in trouble. But somehow, this felt very, very different.

  My lips touched his. He’d waited for me to come to him, seducing me like a wild animal. Patient. Brilliant. This man had experience with girls like me.

  He kissed me. Gently, tenderly. Like Aaron. I was betraying the memory of the boy whose kiss had sustained me all these years, wasn’t I? But then I felt my arms going around his neck, the way I’d seen Freya do with Andre, and it didn’t feel like a betrayal. It felt…right. Didn’t it?