The Shepherd Girl's Necklace (The Windhaven Chronicles)

by Watson Davis

  A group of horses with imperial barding nickered and harrumphed, tied up to a hitching post beside the temple with a trough of water before them.

  An old priestess with a crooked back, skin like leather, and gnarled fingers gripping a smooth staff, stood at the top of the steps leading to the arched doors of the temple. A squad of guards waited behind her, gray with the dust of the road.

  They pulled the wagon to the bottom of the steps, the man throwing Che-su to the ground by the wagon’s wheels. Sifa ran to her, but couldn’t help her.

  The priestess hobbled forward, squinting. “What’s all this hullabaloo disturbing the Empress’s peace then?”

  “Rector Kathe, we found the rebels you warned us about,” the leader said, stepping down from the driver’s seat onto the steps.

  A smile spread across the old woman’s face. “The Empress will be pleased.”

  “BRING THEM,” RECTOR Kathe said, approaching Sifa and her friends with the guards following in her wake. She spread her hands, magic swirling around her, and the doors to the basilica creaked open. “We will hold them in the dungeons until Vellin sees fit to send someone to retrieve them, but I would interrogate them first.”

  The guards strode forward, taking Sifa and the others away from the men of the Rampant Sage, pulling Shiyk’yath, Wu Cheen, and Alizadeh from the wagon, and dragging them up the stairs into the central basilica. The townsfolk followed, bowing and removing their hats and caps at the door before entering, murmuring pledges beneath their breaths.

  The ceiling soared up like the roof of a gigantic cave with stalactites hanging down in geometric patterns, and the sunlight poured in through the stained glass of the rose window over the door. Motes of dust floated through the air, carrying with them the stink of blood and death and age.

  Rector Kathe hobbled down the basilica to the end with her head bowed, chanting the entire way. She plodded up the steps to the altar.

  When she finished chanting, the leader from the inn rushed past Sifa, his hand raised to gain her attention. “Your Excellence, I should warn you, the old woman and the young girl, they are witches.”

  “Witches, are they?” Rector Kathe cackled with laughter.

  “Yes, ma’am.” The man bowed. “They fought us hard. We lost us some blood fighting them.”

  “Oh, I understand,” Rector Kathe said, wrapping her hands around her staff, which shimmered with power. “You think you deserve a reward for doing your duty?”

  “I...” the man gulped, and inclined his head. “Your favor is reward enough, Your Excellence.”

  A guard carried Sifa up the steps. Kathe pointed at Sifa and Che-su, and gestured to a spot before the altar. The guard forced Sifa to her knees where Kathe had indicated, and another deposited Che-su to Sifa’s right.

  Kathe waved her hand to the right of the altar, and other guards dumped Wu Cheen, Shiyk’yath, and Alizadeh in the spot she had indicated, one guard before them, and two behind with their hands resting on their belts.

  “Should I know you?” Rector Kathe hobbled over to stand before Che-su. She touched Che-su’s cheek with a skeletal finger, bending to study the woman’s face more closely and removing the gag from Che-su’s mouth.

  “Che-su, once the rector of Tuth-yoo,” Che-su said, holding her head high and proud, staring Rector Kathe in the eye.

  “I knew your mother,” Kathe said, shaking her head. “I think I owe her a favor but the Bishop wants you returned to Basaliyasta, so return you I shall. What do you say to that, once rector of Tuth-yoo?”

  “We must all do our duty,” Che-su said.

  “Words you should have lived by,” Rector Kathe said with a hiss, stuffing the gag back into Che-su’s mouth. She glared at the guard behind Che-su. “This one is powerful and dangerous. Take no chances with her.”

  The guard nodded, his face cold and serious.

  Kathe whipped her gaze toward Sifa. “And you, little one?”

  Sifa averted her eyes.

  “From where were you Summoned?” The old woman hooked her ice-cold finger under Sifa’s chin and pulled her gag out, turning Sifa’s head to look into her eyes.

  “I am not Summoned,” Sifa said, trying to pull her chin out of Kathe’s grip.

  Kathe mumbled some words and swept her hand before Sifa’s face, magic trailing behind her hand. The old woman gasped and staggered backward. “Abomination!”

  Sifa blinked, confused. “What?”

  “Pick it up!” The old woman doddered around to the back of the altar, laying her staff aside and fumbling through the bells and the chalices on the table behind the block of stone. “Put it on the altar! Quickly!”

  The guards looked at each other and their sergeant said, “It? What are you asking us to do?”

  Kathe whirled and pointed at Sifa. “That thing! Put it on the altar!”

  Sifa yelled, “No!”

  The guard behind Sifa lifted her up. She squirmed and twisted in his grasp, trying to pull away, but he held her too tightly. The man looked over at the soldiers standing over Wu Cheen and said, “Couple of you guys give me a hand here.”

  “Yes,” Kathe said, stuffing the gag back into Sifa’s mouth, “stretch its arms and legs out, and keep it still.” Kathe turned back to rummage through magical tools on the table behind the altar, muttering to herself as she moved things around.

  Che-su struggled to rise, her shouts muffled by her gag. The guard behind her clamped his hands around her neck, forcing her back down, throwing her face-down on the ground, diving onto her back and punching her in the back of her head.

  Sifa twisted and kicked and wiggled, but the three men unbound her wrists and pulled at her arms, one at each wrist, while the third held her ankles in an iron grip. They heaved her up and slammed her down onto the altar.

  Thunder rumbled, the sky outside the basilica blackening with angry clouds lit by stabs of lightning. The men from the inn gathered at the base of the steps and in the central aisle of the basilica, mumbling to each other in hushed tones, wincing at the flashing lights outside.

  Kathe turned toward Sifa clasping a sacrificial dagger in her hands, its blade stained from countless blood sacrifices, chanting with her eyes closed.

  A dark magic surged up to meet Sifa, to envelop her, wrapping itself around her—a twisting miasma of mind-numbing ignorance and unreasoning hate threatening to overwhelm her thoughts, to sadden her heart, to stop her thoughts, to prod her into rage.

  The chanting paused.

  A bolt of lighting smashed against the roof, a horrid crash. One townsman fainted, and two more began to cry, but magical symbols sprang to life, lighting up one by one down the spikes on the ceiling, down the columns, as though the lightning had activated them somehow, each row of symbols not as bright as the one before, as though the power only reached so far down.

  “You can fight all you want, you little bitch,” Kathe said, chuckling, “but you and your self-righteous kin can’t do a thing to harm this temple.” Then she began a new chant.

  Sifa strained against the men’s hands, her palms burning, the gemstone around her neck flaring to life, giving her hope. She sensed the nodes within the altar, the strands of magic writhing like a nest of worms.

  Wu Cheen yelled, “Now!”

  One soldier grunted, and collapsed to the ground screaming, his hands going to his knee, which bent back the wrong way where Wu Cheen had kicked him.

  Wu Cheen twisted his body, bringing his bound wrists down and his legs up, slipping his hands over his feet. He tore the sword from the injured guard’s scabbard and surged to his feet, slashing up and catching the second guard beneath his neck, slicing it open. That guard toppled to the ground with Shiyk’yath hugging the man’s knee and Alizadeh ripping the man’s spear from his hands.

  Wu Cheen threw himself at Kathe at the back of the altar, but the two soldiers at Sifa’s wrists released her and blocked his path, tackling him and driving him to the floor, his sword waving useless in the air.


  Alizadeh leapt to the front side of the altar, blood streaming down his torso onto his legs. The spear in his hands swept out in an arc aimed at the guard holding Che-su.

  That guard ducked and retreated to the steps, ripping his sword out with one hand and a dagger in the other. The soldier holding Sifa’s ankles released her, and drew his own sword.

  Sifa kicked up, missing the soldier’s chin by a finger’s breadth, and seeing the dagger driving down toward her, she rolled off the altar, landing on her hands and feet between the altar and the backs of Alizadeh’s legs.

  Kathe’s dagger struck the altar, the point of the blade penetrating the stone. The old woman snarled. “I told you to hold the abomination still!”

  Shiyk’yath crouched on the dais beside the altar, staring at Sifa, his eyes wide, his hands shaking. Sifa caught his attention and pointed at Che-su, wriggling on the ground. “Free Che-su!”

  Shiyk’yath scrabbled to Che-su’s side.

  Alizadeh hopped forward, swinging the spear, driving the soldier on the steps back. The soldier’s sword slapped at the spear, once, twice, retreating, and then the soldier lunged, sinking his dagger into Alizadeh’s stomach.

  Kathe pulled the sacrificial blade back. The tip broke off in the altar and the stone shuddered.

  Alizadeh dropped the spear and clasped his arms around his stomach. Shiyk’yath tugged at Che-su’s hands, yanking at the ropes around her wrists.

  Sifa touched that dark altar, the stone warm and damp, reaching her mind deep into the horrors of the heart of the stone, hearing the pleas for help, the cries of agony locked inside it. She found the nodes hidden deep inside and she reached out with her soul, pouring herself like lightning into the node. The jewel shimmered on her chest, and she squeezed off the magical strands connected to that disgusting heart, ripping them out, tearing them apart.

  The world seemed to twist. The black tendrils, so many more than even Sifa had been aware of, exploded. Black worms flew out and off in all directions, ethereal and insubstantial and squealing like dying pigs.

  Kathe shrieked, “No!”

  The swordsman pulled his dagger out of Alizadeh’s stomach, and he stumbled back down the stairs, a blank, confused expression on his face. Alizadeh crumpled to the steps, gasping and holding his midsection.

  One of the guards fighting Wu Cheen fell to his knees and vomited black worms, the other reached down to Wu Cheen saying, “I didn’t... I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry. So sorry.”

  “What have I done?” one of the men by the steps asked, staring down at his hands. The woman beside him backed away from him, pointing at him, her hand shaking, her eyes wide with a wild terror. Another man wailed and fell to his knees, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes.

  Kathe began a chant, drawing even more magic to herself.

  Everyone screamed and yelled at each other, throwing punches and falling to the ground wrestling. Shiyk’yath yanked the last of the ropes off Che-su’s wrists. She squirmed out from beneath him, pulling the gag out of her mouth, and Shiyk’yath helped her to her feet. Sifa stood, her knees shaking, feeling exhausted, and she yanked the gag from her own mouth.

  Magic folded itself around Kathe, opening a chasm into a nether region, a realm of cackling demons. She pulled up infernal fire that swirled between her hands. She threw her right hand out toward Che-su and flames shot forward.

  Shiyk’yath grabbed Che-su and yanked her back, but the fire glanced off Che-su’s shoulder, off Shiyk’yath’s hand. The two of them fell down the steps, the flames catching on the stone, burning it, as Che-su and Shiyk’yath screamed in agony.

  Kathe threw out her left hand, flinging it at Sifa, but Sifa rolled forward, placing the altar between her and the priestess. Flames spewed forth from Kathe’s hand, immolating Alizadeh, the swordsman he’d been fighting, and one of the townswomen, engulfing them all in flames. Their howls of terror, ripped from their lungs with such agony, stopped everyone in their tracks.

  The leader of the townsfolk raised his hand, pointing at Kathe and cried, “Stop her! She’s the monster! She’s the one to blame!”

  The townsfolk charged up the steps, except for that same leader, who instead ran to Che-su and Shiyk-yath and threw his cloak over the flames, patting at them, trying to douse them but only spreading them. Shiyk’yath knelt, screaming, holding his forearm, his left hand consumed by yellow flames.

  Che-su slipped out of her tunic, already chanting, her hands already moving, and she summoned water from a divine realm to drench herself, Alizadeh, Shiyk’yath, and the leader of the townsfolk with his burning cloak, dousing the flames threatening them.

  Kathe whirled, blasting once more with her right hand toward Wu Cheen and the two guards staggering toward her. The fire swept over them, but Wu Cheen dove at the altar, flipping over it, the fire catching on the heels of his boots. He landed on his back beside Sifa, and pushed his smoldering boots off.

  The townsfolk ran past them, throwing themselves at Kathe, and Wu Cheen wrapped his arm around Sifa’s waist and carried her down the stairs, yelling, “Time to go!”

  “Alizadeh!” Sifa yelled, reaching out toward the lump on the now smoking stone floor.

  “Come on!” Wu Cheen motioned toward the door for Che-su to see.

  Che-su nodded, her face blank and pale. She wrapped her right arm around Shiyk’yath and the two of them hobbled toward the door behind Wu Cheen and Sifa.

  “PUT ME DOWN,” SIFA said, tearing at Wu Cheen’s arm, staring at the open door to the temple, peering down the length of the basilica to the altar at the far end where the flames danced over the altar, up the columns and across the ceiling.

  “You can’t save Alizadeh,” Wu Cheen said, bouncing down the steps to the plaza. Shiyk’yath and Che-su hobbled along behind them, leaning on each other for support, Shiyk’yath holding his left wrist with his right hand. Where his left hand should have been, only a smoking nub remained.

  “I know I can’t,” Sifa cried. “But we can help Shiyk’yath and Che-su.”

  Wu Cheen dropped Sifa to the square. Thick clouds filled the skies with a few flashes of lightning in the distance and the thunder fading.

  Smoke rose from the building across from the temple, but the people there didn’t seem to notice. A child ran screaming from the door to the building with a woman chasing after it, and another woman stood before the door tearing at the hair on her head, screaming. Men and women fought, punching and kicking at each other, yelling curses and vows.

  “What is going on?” Wu Cheen whispered, limping up the steps on his bare feet. “Are we in one of the hells now?”

  “You’re seeing the ugly truth beneath the civilized surface,” Che-su said, panting for breath. “We have to leave and get far, far away from here. This is going to summon Vellin and Her minions like vultures to a carcass.”

  “There are horses,” Sifa said, pointing toward the animals the guards had ridden, still tied up beside the temple. “Can everyone ride?”

  Wu Cheen sprinted toward the horses, stopping to hop on one foot as he got close to them, and then he crept carefully up to them.

  Che-su shook her head. “I can’t ride, and Shiyk’yath is in no condition to. We’ll have to take the cart.”

  “I can ride,” Shiyk’yath said, sweat beading up on his brow, his breathing heavy and ragged, his head loose on his neck.

  “Sure you can.” Sifa inserted herself between them and the three of them hobbled to the cart, still parked where the man from the Rampant Sage had left it. She helped Che-su and Shiyk’yath into the bed, and then darted around and leapt into the driver’s seat.

  Wu Cheen rode up with five horses on a line behind him. “I thought we were in a hurry and going to ride. That cart’s slower than a virgin walking to the gallows.”

  “Che-su and Shiyk’yath are hurt and they can’t ride,” Sifa said. She winced and gestured toward the horses. “Did you steal every horse in the town?”

  Wu Cheen glanced back an
d shrugged. “I thought we might need to rotate horses to keep them fresh. Besides, military horses are well trained and we can trade them for cash, maybe.”

  Sifa snapped the reins, getting the horse to walk, its head dipping with each step, its ears twitching and turning with each crash, with each screech.

  “Careful here.” Sifa angled the cart down a narrow alley with flames creeping up the sides of buildings, people screaming, windows shattering. A man leapt from a balcony only to stop suddenly and hang by his neck by a rope tied to the balustrade. His body quivered.

  The road slanted down at a sharp angle, forcing Sifa and Che-su to lean back, covering their heads with their arms to protect themselves. Shiyk’yath slid up against the front of the wagon. The horse picked up its pace, pushed by the weight of the wagon down the hill.

  Che-su leaned over Shiyk’yath, holding on to the rail with one hand, placing her other hand on Shiyk’yath’s shoulder. “We have to hurry. I will do what I can for Shiyk’yath, but you must concentrate on getting us as far from here as you can. The Empress will summon an army of orcs and demons to come here to re-establish Her network of spells. We need to be far, far away when that happens. She’ll have every harpy and dragon in the empire scouring this damned province.”

  “An army of orcs and demons?” Wu Cheen laughed from behind where he was taking the street carefully, picking his way down with the horses. “For us? That sounds a bit extreme.”

  “It may be extreme,” Che-su yelled out to him, “but Sifa has done something here no one is supposed to be able to do. She has threatened the web of spells that holds the empire together and binds the empire to her will. Vellin will not be pleased.”

  “Fantastic.” Wu Cheen shook his head and said, “I’ll go ahead and find a healer. Stick to the main road so I can find you.”

  “Understood,” Sifa said, but Wu Cheen had already raced off ahead of them.