“Ah.” Laramis stammered. After a battle, words were hard to find. “Uh—I’m sorry. I made a snap decision, but the town was at stake.”
Irodee’s expression darkened. “You could have waited.” She growled. “I lost seven…” Moisture welled in her eyes. “I—” She choked and she smacked her fists on his chest. “I promised to protect those people!”
Bannor felt a stab in his heart. He knew how she felt. He’d felt the same gut-chilling pain when he saw the tortured elf girl.
The agony of feeling responsible.
Wren, the Queen, Sarai and Janai looked fixedly at the two. Everyone must have felt a portion of what Irodee did. No one wanted to fight after a forced march. Laramis’ attack came on them ill-timed and ill-planned, a mistake they couldn’t afford to make with their limited resources.
Laramis frowned. “Jewel, I lost people too. This is war. People die. You, more than anyone, know that.”
“They might not be dead, if we’d stayed with the plan.” She clanked a fist against his armor. Her voice dropped. “Please, my husband, say you won’t let this happen again. I would rather have less glory and more living people!”
Laramis nodded. “I—promise.”
Irodee swallowed and gave him a crushing hug. “I love you!” she choked out. She pushed him back. “I—need—” She stopped. “Call me when it’s time.” She turned and shoved through the crowd.
Laramis watched his wife stalk off, his shoulders slumping. He took a deep breath, his cheeks puffing as he let it out. After a moment, he realized everyone was staring at him. “She’ll be all right,” he said on an uncertain note.
Wren nodded. “You’re right. She will.”
Laramis blinked. He glanced after the Myrmigyne, and made a circular gesture over his heart, an appeal to Ukko for blessings.
The bigger knight, who had escorted Laramis, put a hand on the paladin’s shoulder. He flinched, obviously preoccupied with Irodee.
“Pardon,” he said to the person behind him. He looked back to Wren. “As you saw, I brought reinforcements.”
“I noticed,” the savant said with narrowed eyes.
“I hope you don’t mind. I picked up two stowaways as well.” He gestured back to the knights who removed their headgear.
The smaller one was indeed a woman, with braided blonde hair and eyes the color of darkest indigo. Most startling of all, aside from a few age lines, she looked identical to Wren.
The savant’s jaw dropped. “Mother? Father!”
Bannor watched Wren embrace her parents, tears coming down her cheeks. Silhouetted by the absolute blackness of Hecate’s rift, Triatus’ ruddy light highlighted their entwined bodies with a sheen the color of blood.
* * *
Know what you get when you mix pantheon blood with a Teritaani warrior?
A nagging pain that lives forever and won’t go away. What do you get when you mix the blood of that same pain in the neck with that of a Ka’Amok?
A nagging irritation that doesn’t live as long, but hurts twice as much.
I call her Wren Kergatha…
—From the Dedriad, ‘musings of an immortal’
Chapter Sixty-Six
« ^ »
Bannor stood in the crowded village trade square, the air smelling of smoke, sweaty bodies and lathering horses. The light of the red moon cast a russet sheen on everything. When added to the bright illumination of the battle lanterns, the shadows cast by the wardens on the wall looked like crimson specters dancing across the yard. He watched enthralled as Wren sobbed and hugged her mother and father. The same iron-willed lady who had dogged him clear across Ivaneth was crying like a baby.
Behind him, Sarai spoke to Laramis, their words lost in the babble of the crowd. He’d wondered what kind of people fostered a woman like Wren. Now, he could find out.
The mother stood taller than her daughter, with shoulders and hips that looked disproportionately wide on her compact frame. To the casual eye, Wren and her mother looked alike, but the elder had rounder cheeks, a broader mouth, and a more prominent chin. The woman’s hard eyes and ‘in-command’ bearing indicated a person accustomed to leadership.
Where the mother seemed relaxed, the father acted stiff, his manner and posture affected. Bannor guessed him to be a man who valued his dignity. His long, copper hair was pulled into a tail exaggerating a high forehead. The man’s dark eyes gleamed like black jewels, making his stare intense. Worry lines creased his angular face with its high cheekbones, sparse mustache, and wedge-shaped jaw. He looked thin, but only because of his exceptional height.
Sarai pulled on his sleeve. “Bannor?”
“Hmmm?” He met his mate’s gaze. She looked concerned.
“Are you well?”
“Fine. Just watching them.” He pointed to Wren’s parents.
“The Kergathas?” She drew a breath. “I met them fifty summers ago. Thought it was a coincidence when Wren told us her name.”
Bannor blinked. “Fifty summers?” Neither one appeared older than forty. “Were they young? They don’t look sixty.”
“They’re far older than that, maybe centuries,” Sarai shrugged. “Not certain how they stay young, but they’ve known Mother a long time.”
“Dame Kergatha is the daughter of the goddess Idun,” Laramis clapped Bannor on the shoulder. “That is why they are so important to our cause.”
“It’ll take a lot to get us out of this,” Bannor said. “We’ve got sixty fighters and a poorly armed town against a legion of demons.”
Laramis squeezed Bannor’s shoulder. “Have faith. Strength is in numbers. The right strengths unified can create a sum far greater than their parts.” He looked skyward and circled his heart three times. “Ukko willing.” He sighed. “I must rest. The battle is soon joined.” He turned.
A burning question suddenly hit Bannor and he caught Laramis’ shoulder. “Wait.”
The paladin looked back. “My friend?”
“Did you really go to Valhalla? To the land of the dead?”
Laramis’ eyes gleamed and he grinned. “Aye. Selected a maiden to watch over Dac.”
Bannor studied Laramis’ face. He looked earnest. A real afterlife? Laramis hadn’t actually said it. Eternal peace in the drinking hall of valiant heroes. It was one thing to believe life existed beyond the death, but entirely another to be certain as Laramis must be.
Leaning on Janai, the Queen stepped beside the paladin. She looked pale, and several of the elven town’s ladies fussed around her. She didn’t seem to notice them. She glanced at Bannor and raised an eyebrow.
He sighed. “We can discuss it later.”
“Aye. Rest. Ukko will watch over us for the nonce.” He bowed to the Queen. “Magnificent showing in the battle Matradomma.”
The lady frowned and nodded.
Laramis bowed again, picked up his helmet and edged through the crowd. Bannor guessed he wouldn’t be resting, but searching for Irodee.
Kalindinai followed the paladin with her gaze, and then put an arm around Sarai’s shoulder. “I saw your stone magic is back.”
Sarai smiled and pulled him close. He didn’t smile back; it worried him. Restoring her power was an accident, the second one involving Sarai. He must control the Garmtur; the next accident might be fatal.
Kalindinai pursed her lips. “Doesn’t this concern you?”
His mate frowned. “It’s different now. I can tell.”
“We badly need that extra power, I know.” The Queen narrowed her eyes. “But if this weakens Bannor, it might be over for everyone.”
Sarai swallowed. “It’s all right. Don’t worry.”
Bannor brushed the silvery hair away from her face. He hoped her faith was warranted.
Kalindinai seemed pacified, and turned her attention to the Kergathas who’d finally finished their reunion. The Queen drew herself up, straightening against obvious fatigue. She stepped away from her daughters and stood on her own to greet Wren’s Mother.
&
nbsp; She extended her hands to Dame Kergatha. “Euriel,” she said in warm tone. “Good to have you with us.”
Euriel smiled broadly, bouncing forward to take the Kalindinai’s hands. Instead of being drained by the battle, she appeared to have been invigorated by it. The heavy battle armor didn’t impede her at all. “Kalindinai!” She bowed her head. “Can’t believe you put on this whole war just for me! A simple reception would have done.”
Kalindinai’s smile looked forced. She had none of Euriel Kergatha’s vigor. “Would have liked something simpler myself.”
Wren and her father stepped forward. The big man stood like a sentinel, one arm wrapped protectively around his daughter, the other stroking his mustache.
Euriel looked toward the rift scarring the southern sky. “That’s quite a decoration in your front yard.”
The Queen’s mouth quirked. “Actually, I planned to remove it. Any suggestions?”
“Several,” the woman responded. She stared at the walls still thronged with nervous bowmen. “Think we’ll have to exterminate a few thousand demons before we can use any of them though.”
“Do you have a plan?”
Euriel grinned. “Don’t I always?” She turned to her daughter with a raised eyebrow. The savant grimaced.
Sarai nudged Bannor. “Guess we know who Wren takes after.”
Bannor smiled in spite of himself. Little about their circumstances struck him as funny. Though the elder Kergatha woman made light of their situation, it didn’t change the fact that the world relied on them.
“Kalindinai,” Euriel said in softer tone. “Relax. Don’t make a show for me.” She put an arm around the Queen’s waist and gave her the support she obviously needed. “We can’t all be daughters of Idun. Come. We need to talk to the village elders.”
The Queen looked stunned by Dame Kergatha’s directness. She sighed and nodded.
Euriel turned and her deep indigo eyes found Bannor’s. “Wren hasn’t introduced us. You’re Bannor, right?” He nodded. “Come then. After all, your stake in this is greatest.”
Bannor blinked. He’d thought Kalindinai was commanding. Dame Kergatha inspired obedience without even trying. To see this woman angry would be an awesome sight. Euriel took his wrist with a grip as solid as a manacle and pulled.
“Milady,” he started. “I—”
“Euriel,” she told him. “Titles will only get in the way now. Trust me, haste is essential if we don’t want to be demon fodder.”
Villagers swarming around them, they moved through the square toward another group coming from the opposite direction. The two assemblies met in the middle of a wide, gravel path amidst a throng of curious onlookers.
Three men and one woman had been assembled to talk to them. The obvious one in charge was a balding human with a purplish scar over his left eyebrow. He went without a tunic, revealing burly shoulders covered with hair. His left arm ended in a stump, and he walked with a pronounced limp. His broad face was tanned to the color of old leather and seamed with fine lines that looked like cracks in crystal. Bannor had seen the man summers ago, but didn’t immediately place where.
A half-elf with a hook nose and gold eyes stood on the spokesman’s left. The back and sides of his head had been shaved leaving only a circular patch of long gray hair clasped and dangling over one shoulder.
The last two were elves, a married couple from appearances, and ancient. Their skin had yellowed like old parchment, and they walked with great care, treating everything in their path as if it were potentially hurtful.
As a unit, the delegation bowed before Queen Kalindinai in obeisance. As the spokesman rose and took his hand off his heart, Bannor abruptly realized who he was. “Captain Wallar!”
The older man jerked and peered at the source of the voice. “Bannor?” His gruff voice rose in surprise. “Bannor Starfist? Odin’s eye! What are you—?” He stopped and bowed again to the Queen and Dame Kergatha. “Pardon, Matradomma, Bannor trained in my regiment right before I retired.” He held up his stump. “Figured it best to quit while I could still feed myself.”
“It’s all right,” Kalindinai said. “Familiarity can only aid us. This lady.” She gestured to Wren’s mother. “Is Euriel Kergatha. She has plans for getting through the siege.”
Wallar’s squinting gray eyes met Bannor’s. He nodded. The captain rubbed his plait with his stump. “We’ll listen to whatever you got ta say. We’re down to ten barrels of arrows and two of bolts. At best, it ain’t enough to kill half of what’s out there.”
“My plan calls for little weaponry,” Euriel said. “It does call for a great deal of courage, though.”
“These people aren’t fancy capital folk,” Wallar said. “But they have heart. They’re fighters. We got all the courage you need.”
Euriel turned to her husband. Eyes narrow, the big man nodded. Bannor tried to read Wren for an idea of what was being planned, but the savant’s face gave away nothing. She seemed in shock. She hadn’t spoken to anyone since her parents had revealed themselves.
Dame Kergatha turned back to the delegation. “I want you to bring all the children to the center of town and reassign the adults. Post all of the men on the West and South walls, and the women on the North and East. Everyone. I will assign wardens for the smallest children.”
“Pardon, milady. But, what will that—”
“Goodman Wallar, if your people have courage, show me. Do as I have said, and we may get through this alive.”
The two elderly elves mumbled something, and Captain Wallar bent to listen to the female. He frowned, his brow beetling as she whispered in his ear. He cleared his throat. “We’ll start immediately, milady.”
He turned and boomed an order to someone on the wall. He then hurried down the path, grabbing men and women and issuing instructions.
Euriel bowed to the two ancient elves, and said something in Elvish. The female blushed and bobbed back. The couple then moved off down an alley and into the darkness. The half elf frowned at them, his gold eyes narrow. He said nothing, but spun on his heel and headed into the crowd.
“He’ll be trouble,” Sarai said.
“The least of our problems, I assure you,” Euriel said. She shielded her eyes against the glare of the battle lanterns and studied the center of town. “Arwen,” she asked. “Do you have strength enough to raise a platform of stone a few paces square over there?” She pointed.
Sarai stared at the woman as if surprised to be addressed. “I think so. What about that well?”
“Cover it over. We won’t need it unless we live. It has to be solid. We’ll be focusing a lot of power there.” She took the Queen’s shoulder. “Can you scribe me a thaumaturgic circle on that slab? Third demesne?”
“Using what?”
“Him.” She pointed at Bannor.
His heart jumped. “What?”
“How?” Kalindinai asked.
Euriel snorted. “You know what a third order circle is drawn with.”
“Blood, of course. You don’t expect me—” Kalindinai stopped.
Bannor’s stomach tightened. Both of them were staring into the blonde woman’s eyes. There was no question. She wanted them to inscribe a magic circle on the stone with his blood.
He swallowed. “Why my blood?”
“Let me answer it with a question. Do you think I’d cross the Bifrost Bridge all the way from Asgard simply to get myself killed?”
“No.”
“All right then. If you want to help these people—cooperate. We don’t have time for explanations.”
He thought Wren had been short on information. If they got through this emergency, he’d put an end to this need-to-know drivel. He was an equal partner in the fight against the avatars; no-one would keep secrets from him again. Especially ones involving him and the Garmtur.
He guessed she expected to get some kind of power from his blood. Legends were full of great feats accomplished with blood-rites and magics. What concerned him were the
consequences suffered by the contributor of the blood. What risk had she, a stranger, asked him to take on blind faith?
Sarai was ahead of him. “Mother, will this hurt Bannor?”
“Of course it will,” the Queen replied. “Getting stuck with a knife always does.”
“You know what I mean,” she growled.
Kalindinai traded glances with Euriel. “It shouldn’t prove too debilitating.”
Bannor didn’t like the way the Queen had picked her words so carefully. Obviously, she’d guessed what Dame Kergatha might be up to.
Faith.
He looked at Wren. For the first time since the Kergatha’s had revealed themselves, the savant met his gaze. “Trust her,” she said in a firm voice. “Mother knows what’s at stake.”
Even with the savant’s say so, he still felt like a calf being lead to the sacrifice. “Show me what to do.”
* * *
When all else fails, sacrifice your second in command, rub your hands together and prepare to get them dirty…
—From the Dedriad, ‘musings of an immortal’
Chapter Sixty-Seven
« ^ »
Bannor followed the gravel path toward the center of the outpost followed by the Queen, Janai, Sarai, Wren and her Mother Euriel. The savant’s Father disappeared into the crowd as they headed out. Bannor wondered what the man might be up to, but didn’t have the time or energy to waste on it. Villagers scrambled past, hurrying to carry out Euriel Kergatha’s repositioning orders. Most bowed on passing, showing respect for the Queen and to the people who fought the demons on their behalf. Some stopped and expressed thanks. He wished them well in return. He liked being acknowledged, but hated being responsible for these people. Euriel had put the salvation of the outpost entirely in his hands.
A cool gust swirled between the buildings, bringing the smells of burning wood, sweat and the sulfurous stench of decaying demons. He fixed on the village square where the town’s bricked-in well stood. There, Euriel wanted him to spill his blood in order to ward off Hecate’s demons.
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