Heart of Steel

by Samantha M. Derr

  Alais sat back in her seat, surprise etched into the sharp oval of her face. "Forgive me. I did not mean to sound flippant…"

  "I do not want your apology." Maud dragged a hand over her face, sword calluses and old scars meeting with a whisper of friction. "You did what you thought was right, I'm sure." As foolish as it had been for Alais to rush back into the house, Maud could hardly expect her to sit out the fight altogether. Sometimes she forgot how young Alais was, how badly she wanted to prove herself. "I merely… I want you safe."

  "I am safe." In another show of impulsiveness, Alais reached across the table and claimed her hand—openly, in full view of the inn's other patrons. "I'm with you, aren't I? And your friends are upstairs. I have three knights of Saint Kilda to protect me—"

  "The Order landed you into this bind," Maud snapped, more harshly than she'd intended, and yanked back her hand. "If you cannot see that, what hope is there for you?"

  Hurt flashed in Alais's eyes. Her empty hands folded into fists against the scored wood.

  "I'm sorry." It was Maud's turn to apologise. "It's been a trying day. I thought I could keep you from harm. I was wrong." She sucked in a breath, ducking her gaze to the near-empty tankard. "Tomorrow, you shall remain here."

  "No—"

  "Yes. You haven't the means to stand in a fight against a true warlock." If that was to be the enemy they were to face. Emelyne had been certain from the beginning and, despite her reticence, Maud could only hold out for so long.

  Before they'd left the ruin of the cottage, Emelyne had performed a scrying spell using the entrails of the wraiths. She claimed to know where the enchantment had originated from. She meant to go there tomorrow and nip any and all future attacks in the bud.

  Maud couldn't very well leave her and Katrina to tackle such a venture alone. Her conscience compelled her.

  And if Emelyne was to be believed, they could find no better help; the enchantment that had summoned the wraiths appeared to draw strength from the very grounds of Maud's ancestral home.

  "You cannot claim I did not acquit myself well today," Alais protested, hurt veering to indignation in her bright brown eyes. "Katrina even said I'd make a fine knight! Maud, I am not afraid. Please—please, you must allow me to aid you." Her shoulders hunched as she leaned over her table, folding her hands into a prayerful clasp. "I cannot sit idly by when I know you are in danger. I shall—I shall keep my distance, if you wish. I won't go near the thick of battle."

  "Then what is the point of you?"

  Alais clamped her mouth shut. The light from the crackling hearth fire cast shadows on her face, highlighting the sharp slant of her cheekbones, the thin line of her mouth. "What is the point of me here," she retorted, "other than to fret and pray that you'll come back alive?"

  "I care not. You're not coming. I forbid it." Maud held up a finger. "And don't even think to pester me with this nonsense. I am your mistress. I still command you." Less and less since the day she'd hired Alais, the lines between their stations blurring faster than charcoal on paper, until they had become but a formality. When she and Alais shared the same meals and slept in the same bed, it could hardly be otherwise.

  But their bed was gone, burnt to a crisp in the conflagration that had consumed their home, and the little moments of companionship they'd enjoyed over supper had been reduced to fragments of memory. That past was gone. Alais had always wanted to see the Order in action; now that she had, her next lesson was to discover the harsh truth Maud already knew.

  No good deed perpetrated by the Order's shieldmaidens ever came without cost.

  With a screech of wooden legs against the dirty wooden floor, Alais stood. "You were my mistress. And I served you faithfully." Her hands trembled as she smoothed invisible wrinkles in the skirt of her high-waisted frock. "No more."

  "Alais—"

  "I'm no longer yours to protect. Or to command." Though her voice shook, her glistening eyes were cold. "From this moment forth, we are nothing to each other."

  The sinking sense of having made a terrible mistake washed over Maud. She tried to reach for Alais, but it was too late. Watching her bolt through tables filled with unwitting patrons, a hand raised to smother her sobs, Maud sighted her error. She had only meant to keep Alais from harm.

  She hadn't meant to chase her off altogether.

  A plea tangled in her throat, but it was too late. Quick-footed, Alais vanished up the stairs.

  Maud covered her face with her hands and struggled to hold back a shout of despair. If she hadn't fled London, if she hadn't allowed the Order to seduce her in the first place, this never would've happened. It's not my fault. But was it Alais's?

  Incensed, Maud pushed up from the table. She could fix this. She could make Alais understand it wasn't that simple. What they had and what tomorrow demanded of her couldn't be separated.

  She took the creaky steps at a fast clip, gripping the banister so tightly that splinters dug into her palm. Silence greeted her on the landing, dimming slightly as she crept down the hall. Only one door was shut; it could only belong to the room Emelyne had secured for them.

  Maud raised her hand to knock—and stilled, her knuckles an inch from the wood panel. Muffled whimpers echoed from the other side. She would have recognised Alais's moans anywhere. She knew their tenor when she was upset or aching. She knew how Alais sounded as she surrendered to her desires.

  Maud had elicited those noises from her more times than she could count. But Maud wasn't in the room with her now.

  "I stepped out to give them privacy." Emelyne's voice seemed to materialise out of thin air. It took Maud a moment to peer through the open window at the end of the hall and find her sitting on the roof of the stables, her cloak spread out around her. "I would advise you do the same," Emelyne added, without turning.

  "How did you know—"

  "That you'd come up?" Emelyne scoffed. "You may be a great fool, but you're no coward." She patted the shingle roof beside her. "Leave them be."

  Maud scowled at the back of her Emelyne's ginger head. "I wasn't about to barge in there." The thought had crossed her mind, briefly, but she'd dismissed it for both her sake and Alais's. She hardly had room to object.

  Taking pains not to bang her head against the window frame, Maud straddled the sill and stepped out onto the steep incline of the roof. "They have ale downstairs."

  "And we have stars up here." Emelyne caught Maud's hand as she sat down.

  "Is this what you do on the eve of battle? Sit and count stars?"

  "We can talk, if you'd like." Emelyne's smile was knowing. "Feel free to tell me all about how hard it is to be so loved."

  "On second thought, counting stars will do."

  Mere feet away, Alais was with the woman Maud had lain with only days before. They had no home and very little chance of victory come morning, but when Emelyne leaned against her side, Maud found herself allowing it.

  This was how the Order got her the first time.

  *~*~*

  Westmour House sat on sixty acres of parkland and forest, with fishponds and flower gardens dotted all around it. A maze erected on the orders of one of Maud's more fanciful ancestors held pride of place east of the property, marking the dividing line between Westmour and the nearby Carey estate.

  Maud had many pleasant memories of racing down the shortest path through the hedges and cutting across fields to visit Emelyne. She had many more unpleasant ones of being told Emelyne was unwell or at lessons with her many tutors. Unlike Maud, she'd never been one to shirk her duties.

  As they trotted up the path, Maud slanted a glance at her childhood friend. Did the same crushing sense of responsibility weigh on her shoulders now? Did her demons plague her to this day?

  Riding side-saddle in a simple gown as red as her hair, Emelyne looked focused and grave, but not unwell. She smiled when she caught Maud staring. "If we hurry, we could drop by, disturb the baron's luncheon."

  "Your father would set the dogs on us."
>
  "Not in my presence," Katrina muttered, flatly.

  Maud lost her appetite for pleasantries. She hadn't exchanged more than a handful of words with Katrina all morning and she'd received no apology for last night's tryst. She knew her well enough to know one would not be forthcoming, yet still she waited, wallowing in nameless hurt.

  Trailing them on a piebald mare, Alais cleared her throat. "Should we not stop? The horses are already skittish."

  It had been impossible to argue her into remaining in Holsworth. Her mind was made up. Emelyne and Katrina thought strength in numbers was rather a good idea, leaving Maud alone in dissent. And so Alais had come, armed with only a dagger borrowed from the inn, fragile and beautiful, and all too likely to venture headfirst into danger.

  "I could calm them," Emelyne answered pensively, "but Alais is quite right. We'd do much better to continue on foot."

  They dismounted in silence. The path was overgrown, weeds pushing out of the flowerbeds, hedges reaching out thorny limbs to snatch at their hems. Tethering their steeds to a clump of scraggly rowan, they left the animals to graze in peace under the gloomy noonday sky.

  Clouds had begun to gather since shortly after dawn, blotting out the sun and instilling a sense of foreboding within Maud. The sight of her ancestral home looming large before her did little to shift that impression.

  Gravel crunched underfoot as they ascended the two dozen front steps to the massive front doors. Stone lions flanked the entrance, the limestone cracked and tinted green with neglect. It was a similar story inside.

  "You grew up here?" Katrina whistled her appreciation of the vertiginous walls and many-paned windows, many of which had been shattered. "And I thought Em was well-heeled."

  "You should have seen it when it was occupied," Emelyne said. "Gilded paintings on every wall, Persian rugs in each room. Velvet draperies and crystal chandeliers…" She trailed off wistfully. "And now it is a mere hideout for third-rate conjurers."

  Their voices would have echoed regardless, but something Emelyne did with her voice—something not entirely natural—served to project that last word through every open door and long, winding hall, her contempt folding back onto itself and spreading outward like a wave.

  Before they'd left the inn, they had decided not to bother skulking about. Stealth was of no use when dealing with warlocks. Maud was relieved. She drew out her claymore with a long screech of metal, ready to end this. From the corner of her eye, she saw Katrina casually liberate an arrow from her quiver.

  "Show yourself," Emelyne called out, crisp and clear, all those childhood lessons in elocution finally put to good use.

  "Ballroom," Katrina murmured under her breath.

  Maud shot a glance to the right, but couldn't see anything. The double doors might have stood ajar, but only a thin filament of light penetrated through the drawn curtains. "You're certain?"

  Katrina nodded. There was no sense in arguing. She had by far the keenest eyes between the four of them.

  Slowly, on alert for any traps, they made their way toward the ballroom. Their silhouettes flickered over the floor as they passed, single-file, beneath the tall windows set at regular intervals in the facade. Once or twice Maud thought she spied an extra shadow or deformity on the dusty wooden boards, but it might have been a trick of the light. Her fears were far more tethered to Alais, bringing up the rear with nothing but a dagger in hand.

  "We know you're here," Emelyne added, her tone almost conversational. "Did you think we wouldn't puzzle it out? Your minions all but came bearing your calling card. We could hardly resist the invitation."

  A horrible cackling ricocheted around the ballroom. "You're dead." High ceilings inlaid with mouldings and murals flung the echo back and forth like a racket ball. Dead, dead, dead…

  Katrina spun around, wolf-head cloak whirling around her, and released the bowstring.

  Her arrow flew true, finding purchase in a cobwebbed mirror. Glass shards splintered into a thousand harmless fragments.

  She swore under her breath. "Sorry about that, Maud."

  Apologies could wait. "Did you see him?"

  "For a moment, I thought—"

  "Look out!" Alais cried out, just as a shadow leaped from the dusty wooden boards.

  Humanoid in appearance, yet taller than any man or woman alive, its limbs seemed crafted from the darkest smoke, its eyes two dark pits set into the blur of its face. And yet for all that, it appeared chimeric, it was in no way intangible as it seized Maud's throat in a clawed, burning hand and flung her back across the room.

  Between the shock and the searing grip, Maud lost her footing. She swung the claymore with all her might, even as she fell, and cleaved the shadow-demon in half.

  The ground rose up to meet her, impact rattling her teeth. For its part, the creature wailed and dissolved before her very eyes.

  Maud coughed, blinking as she staggered to her knees.

  Alais made to race toward her but stopped when Maud held up a hand. "Are you all right?"

  "Yes." Her voice was like sandpaper.

  "What was that?" Katrina bit out.

  "Don't know," said Emelyne, "but it wasn't alone."

  Five more demons materialised out of thin air, three in their path and two by the door, blocking their retreat. Using her sword as a cane, Maud righted herself. The last thing she wanted to do was retreat.

  Before the demons or their summoner could pick a target, she lunged for the trio stranding in her way. Her claymore sliced the air, metal gleaming in the scattered seams of light that peeked through the curtained windows.

  The demons dodged, shrieking. Their maws were dark craters, their teeth little more than serrated fangs, black like charcoal. An arrow pierced one through what should have been its eye but didn't kill it. The creature whirled to face Katrina with an unnatural, reptilian twist.

  The second arrow tore through its abdomen, with better luck than the first. Maud thrust her sword through the demon to finish it off. Battle frenzy rose within her. With two kills under her belt and more on offer for her to slay, it did not matter what they were or where they'd come from. She feinted and struck as though they were human targets, raking her sword through parting smoke and pivoting to stab at another, and another.

  "There's more," Katrina growled, loosing another arrow. "How can there be more?"

  "Let's find out." Emelyne planted her staff into the floor hard enough that the boards splintered. She yelled out a garbled incantation, the words so arcane and sonorous that Maud not only didn't recognise them, but never wished to hear them again.

  All at once, the velvet drapes flung open, windows bursting off their hinges.

  Hideously bright light stung Maud's eyes. The mirrors and marble columns in the ballroom reflected the glare like stage lights. Shadow-demons stood little chance.

  Her vision blurred, Maud tipped back and swung her sword over her head and through one of the remaining, disoriented creatures, cleaving its head clean off. Katrina took out two more with a pair of arrows notched and shot at the same time. As she straightened, Maud glimpsed Alais sink her dagger into the belly of a shadow-demon an instant before it dissipated into smoke.

  Stillness settled over the ballroom.

  "Is that all of them?" Maud asked, panting.

  "Very good, very good," snickered that same disembodied voice. "But a wasted effort."

  A sudden gust of wind rippled through the room, so powerful it yanked the mirror shards from the floor and sent them flying every which way.

  Katrina was quick enough to duck and pull her furred cloak around herself. Maud was less fortunate. She parried a volley aimed at her face but failed to defend against those that sliced into her torso and thighs. Shards embedded themselves into her flesh, keen as an animal's fangs. A bolt of breath-taking agony shot up Maud's spine. She bit back a cry, refusing to give her enemy the pleasure of hearing her scream. "A-Alais!"

  "We're fine," Emelyne yelled back.

  Blinking thr
ough the pain, Maud swung her gaze toward Emelyne's voice. She had an arm around Alais and was holding up a translucent shield before them, the enchantment flickering where a dozen or so mirror fragments glimmered in the mid-morning light.

  They clattered to the ground when Emelyne gasped, bracing her staff against the floor. She looked suddenly, worryingly spent, leaning as much against the staff as she was on Alais.

  "Enough games!" Maud bellowed. "Where are you? Does the Regent recruit curs into his service now?"

  "The Regent," echoed around the ballroom, "will destroy your beloved Order. It is prophesied."

  Maud spun, but the voice she thought she'd heard behind her seemed to emanate from an entirely different part of the vast ballroom when she did so. She tightened her grip around the sword. Something about the timbre was familiar to her, though she couldn't place it.

  "The Regent is a man of great vision," the warlock taunted. "And one day who knows…"

  Her ears perked, Maud pivoted on a back heel. Nothing behind her. Nothing before her. But he was near. Her skin prickled with that certitude.

  Another blood-curling cackle echoed around the room. "One day he may even become king!"

  "Over my dead body," Maud growled.

  "No, sister," Emelyne said wearily. "Over his."

  And with Alais's hand still in hers, she sent the borrowed dagger flying through the air, its sharp point aimed straight for Maud's chest.

  Too stunned to move, Maud didn't think to raise the claymore. She heard the blade go in with a sickening parting of flesh.

  She felt no pain.

  The steel point had stopped mere inches from her heaving ribcage. Between her and Emelyne, a flickering form began to take shape. Crimson filled the cheap linen of a peasant shirt, gradually seeping through a coarse brown waistcoat. A jacket that had seen better days fluttered as its owner trembled before her.

  He cut a tall figure, almost as tall as she was, dirt in the creases of his suntanned skin. His blond beard hadn't seen a trim in some weeks, but between the fair tuft of facial hair and the brim of his hat, his foggy blue eyes nearly stopped Maud's heart.