Tristaine Rises

by Cate Culpepper

  “I sure hope so,” Brenna whispered. “You couldn’t possibly be any more specific, though? In case she has any questions?”

  “Ha. Think I’m vague?” Dyan snorted and got to her feet, towering over Brenna again. “Our Mothers don’t speak much more clearly on this plane, lass. Try getting a straight answer out of those seven stubborn...”

  Dyan looked to the trees as a faint, trilling whistle reached them.

  Brenna’s mouth was open to ask the next of six dozen essential questions, but it snapped shut again as she recognized that particular pattern of whistled notes.

  The sound came from the dense trees bordering the small meadow. Brenna’s heart beat faster, and she looked at Dyan. The immense warrior’s chiseled face softened, and she nodded.

  Brenna stepped through the lush grass toward the forest’s edge, stooping to peer through the thick branches. The swirling whistle came again, and she stopped. She saw her now. A tall, slim young warrior with chestnut hair, standing on a far-distant ridge, strong and vibrant with life.

  Camryn was too far away to allow speech, and Brenna didn’t attempt it. They regarded each other across the distance, both grinning like fools. A joyful laugh rose from Brenna’s throat, and she gave in to the irresistible, childlike urge to wave her arm in huge arcs in greeting. Cam lifted her hand in return, laughing too.

  “She can’t come closer, lass.” Dyan’s low voice sounded in her mind. “She’s still learning the lay of the land.”

  Brenna nodded, drinking in every detail of the distant figure. Camryn’s hand moved over her chest, and her long fingers twirled in an intricate design. Brenna shouldn’t have been able to see the motion clearly at this distance, but she followed it easily, and it imprinted on her heart.

  Brenna raised her hand in acknowledgement and caught the flash of Camryn’s grin. The young warrior stood a moment longer, relaxed and easy in a body that had been gangly and restless on earth. Then she turned and walked back into the surrounding trees.

  Brenna stared at the empty ridge, her fingers brushing the base of her throat.

  Dyan waited for her at the edge of the cliff. They stood side by side, looking out over a vista of mountains and valleys more crisp and beautiful than any view offered on Brenna’s mesa.

  “You need to go back, adanin.”

  Brenna murmured agreement. “Is there anything else I should tell them?”

  “Aye. Botesh’s power peaks with tomorrow’s dawn of Demeter’s moon. Expect her attack at nightfall. And don’t drop your guard. If the she-ghoul survives the first night, she’ll return the second.”

  “I understand.” Brenna thought that might be overstating it, but at least she understood what to tell Shann and Jess. “Is that all?”

  Dyan’s hand rose to her breast, and her fingers moved in the same twirling motion Camryn’s had, with a slight variation at the end. “Tell m’ lady I hear her. Each and every night.”

  Brenna swallowed hard. “I will, Dyan.”

  Dyan straightened and looked down at Brenna from her dizzying height. “Do you trust me, Brenna?”

  “Yes, I do.” She didn’t have to think about it.

  “Then trust your sight.” Dyan put a large hand in the small of Brenna’s back and pushed her off the cliff.

  *

  At first she just plummeted, her arms pinwheeling helplessly, her ragged scream sucked back into her throat by the wind. Brenna’s lifelong nightmares crystallized in those few seconds of stark terror. And then she was lifted.

  Her spirit changed and soared, a painless transformation that sent her reeling high into the cloudless, sunlit heavens. She turned and stretched in the warm winds, the terrain spinning with her, her fear giving way to exhilaration. Jesstin, she yelled in her mind, see me now!

  Only now, high above the earth, could Brenna realize the truth of Dyan’s words. This was Tristaine’s mesa, albeit larger and more spectacularly beautiful than the one Shann’s Amazons inhabited. She could see the ring of towering trees outlining its perimeter and stopped in her headlong flight, hovering over the mesa’s center.

  Small details registered: the tiny blocks of lodges and cabins that dotted the Amazon village, the lush conifers growing thickly among them. But Brenna was struck by an amazing symmetry evident only at this height.

  The outer ring of trees wasn’t just regular; it was perfect, forming a wide and solid circle around the mesa’s surface. And several hundred yards in, another concise circle of trees grew, forming an inner ring. There was an obvious gap—an empty space, forested only by shrubs and smaller trees, where a third circle should be. And there, in the exact geometric center of these natural rings, Brenna saw the sinister black shape of the altar.

  The target glyph, the image of the bull’s-eye, its grooves sizzling with Sirius’s blood. The sigil carved onto the altar was replicated almost perfectly on the mesa’s surface. It lacked only the third, innermost ring.

  And then Brenna was falling again, no, diving. There was no sense of helplessness now, just a desperate urgency to get home to her clan. She streaked down toward the altar, fixing her furious gaze on its malignant form, seeing it grow larger as if rising to meet her attack.

  *

  “She’ll be with us soon, Jesstin.”

  Shann’s voice, immensely weary but rich with relief. Brenna could feel her fingers stroking her hair again and Jess’s firm grip on her hand.

  “Hoo,” Brenna whispered.

  “Brenna.” Jess’s breath warmed her brow. Brenna could feel the faint trembling in her fingers.

  She opened her eyes, and the first thing she saw was the blurred montage, high overhead, of the Seven Sisters. Then Jess’s tense features swam into focus, filling her sky, and Brenna realized that cherished gaze was all she would ever need of heaven.

  “Get me off this thing,” she mumbled, and Jess’s arms slid under her shoulders and knees at once and lifted her gently from the altar.

  “Here, Jesstin, near the fire.” Shann motioned to Dana, who snapped out a warm fur and spread it close to the crackling flames.

  Rather than lay Brenna on the blanket, Jess settled cross-legged onto it herself and cradled her in her lap. Brenna was starting to shiver from the night’s cold now and welcomed the warmth of the fire, but the strong arms supporting her offered more exquisite comfort.

  She heard the stirring of cloaks and robes as Shann and the others gathered around them. The relief of the breathing presence of her sisters was so great Brenna felt faint with it. Shann knelt in front of her and lifted her hand.

  “How are you, little sister?”

  “Lady,” Brenna began, “please, please, please tell me you know three women called the Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone.”

  A quicksilver array of emotions passed over Shann’s expressive features. She masked her fear almost at once, but Brenna saw it clearly.

  Chapter Nine

  Brenna sat near the edge of the highest bluff their mesa afforded—a tame drop-off, compared to its counterpoint in the spirit world. The tree she leaned against was one of those towering conifers that formed the outer ring encircling their village.

  She rested her head against the soft moss cushioning the trunk of the tree and allotted herself exactly thirty seconds of closed eyes and relaxed vigilance. If Botesh and her minions chose to attack in those thirty seconds, she was prepared to accept full blame.

  The sun was an hour from setting. They had until nightfall, Dyan had said. Shann seemed to accept this assurance, and the rest of her lost adonai’s instruction, as literal truth. She had told them she understood who this mysterious Crone, Mother, and Maiden were, and how they could help Tristaine. Beyond that, Shann declined to elaborate.

  Snugging the collar of her jacket closer around her throat, Brenna shivered in the breeze of early evening. It had been a day of frenetic activity. She had spent much of it in Tristaine’s healing lodge, rolling bandages and stocking Shann’s supplies to prepare for the coming battle.

/>   Which would take what form? Brenna folded her arms, curled her legs beneath her on the rocky ground, and looked out over the twilight pasture below. Jess’s warriors were braced for armed conflict. Their children and elderly were housed in fortified cabins that would be well guarded until the clan was safe. Food was stored in their harvesting bins to see them through any siege that might confine them to the mesa. They were as ready as they could be for physical battle, but it seemed there was little more they could do to raise shields against the spectral forces their enemy might command.

  Shann had shepherded her women ably through all these preparations. She claimed a good night’s sleep had restored her energies and brushed aside any attempt at solicitude. But throughout the day, Shann seemed to avoid being alone with Brenna and rarely met her eye. A small thing with so many urgent demands on a queen’s attention, but the loss of that direct, warm gaze troubled Brenna.

  Eyes still closed, she heard the outraged rustling coming up on her left.

  “Great! She’s asleep. We could have crossbowed your butt three times already, Brenna.” It was Dana’s voice.

  Brenna crooked one eye open and smiled a greeting at Kyla and Samantha as they joined Dana around her moss-sheathed tree.

  “And what part of Jess’s order about no one traveling alone beyond the village didn’t register with you?” Dana continued to crab. “You really want to bring the wrath of that big snarly adonai of yours down on your—yipe!” She broke off as an acorn bounced smartly off the top of her head.

  Brenna craned her neck and watched Jess descend from her watch atop a nearby oak. She sluiced down through the branches, sinuous as a panther, moving almost soundlessly. Jumping the last ten feet, she landed lightly, with the smallest flex of her knees. Brenna made a clicking noise and smiled in wicked appreciation, and Jess winked at her.

  “Make that big sneaky adonai,” Dana muttered, rubbing her head.

  “I take it by your presence that all’s quiet in the village.” Jess lifted Kyla’s hand and kissed it.

  “As a tomb.” Kyla tousled Jess’s hair. “A quiet, tense, ticking, pressurized tomb.”

  “The night watch is coming on, Jess.” Dana shrugged the strap of a canvas bag off her shoulder and knelt to rummage through it. “I heard Siirah and Reilly ride past a minute ago. This sector is set. Aria sent up this tasty ch—this dinner for us.”

  “Hey, you.” Brenna smiled at Samantha and patted the ground beside her. “Pull up a root.”

  Sammy complied, folding her coltish legs beneath her and settling between Brenna and Dana. The climb to this low ridge had done her sister good, Brenna noted. Or maybe it was the quiet ministration Sammy had received from their clan the last few days. That persistent pallor had faded a little, and her expression seemed more alert and focused.

  Towering waves of terror and dread were impossible to sustain, Brenna philosophized as Dana passed thick mutton sandwiches around their circle. She often wrote her journal in her mind long before ink touched paper. She saw the tension ease from the bodies of her friends as they began to relish their collective warmth. They had all been swept up in the adrenaline-charged preparations since they were last together, and it was past time for this brief reprieve.

  “So Shann really understands this whole crone-virgin thing?” Dana obviously didn’t comprehend the nature of a reprieve, which in Brenna’s mind meant ignoring the looming threat altogether.

  Kyla sputtered, then lowered the canteen, giggling. “That’s Maiden, you heretic. The Crone, the Mother, and the Maiden. That’s covered in, what, Introduction to Amazons? The virgin.”

  “Okay, the Crone, the Mama, and the Maid.” Dana grinned. “Same difference. Did Shann say any more about who they’re supposed to be?”

  “Our lady keeps her own counsel.” Jess chewed methodically, studying the sparse grass of the pasture below them. “She hasn’t shared her thoughts with me.”

  That in itself was unusual, and troubling, Brenna thought. Jess served as Shann’s second and had always been one of her most trusted advisors.

  “Were they Amazons, these three women?” Sammy was wolfing down her dinner with obvious pleasure.

  “They’re three aspects of our Goddess, Samantha.” Jess brushed her hands together and leaned back on one elbow. “But many other cultures share the archetype. The wise elder, the fruitful mother, the innocent girl. They are the new, full, and waning moons. Sedna, Demeter, and Persephone. The most potent ages of Woman, embodied in those three.”

  “Wow.” Samantha swallowed the last of her sandwich. She watched Brenna closely, as if trying to read her response to all this. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know anything about your religion. So I’m not sure how these three…um, aspects of your goddess figure in here. Everybody’s getting ready for this big physical battle. But aren’t you talking about some…spiritual war? I just don’t see how swords can protect us against ghosts.”

  “Our battlefield was cast the night Sirius died, Samantha.” Jess met Brenna’s gaze, and Brenna picked up her thought effortlessly.

  “I’m glad you weren’t there to see her body, Sam.” A sad shiver moved through Brenna. “Sirius was killed with terrible violence. It’s all the proof we need that Botesh can attack us on the physical plane. That’s why Jess’s warriors are on full watch.”

  “Brenna said Sirius’s slaughter was a blood sacrifice.” Grief and anger melded in Kyla’s voice. “It opened a door between worlds and let Botesh in.”

  “Doors swing both ways, Ky.” Jess nudged Kyla’s knee gently with her foot. “Tristaine has her own allies in Botesh’s realm. If that banshee can reach us, so can they. If Shann calls on our Goddess, her Crone, Mother, and Maiden will answer.”

  “But how will she call them? Please tell me it won’t involve anyone stretching out on that creep-show altar again.” Dana scratched her shoulder. “And how will we use them once they get here?”

  “Shann will need their blended powers to face Botesh.” Brenna closed her eyes, remembering. “That’s what Dyan said. I asked her to be more specific about the whole blending thing, but she just said Shann would understand.”

  “She said she’d ken,” Kyla murmured.

  “She did.” Brenna nodded.

  “I can’t believe you spoke to her.” Kyla lifted Brenna’s hand onto her knee. “You stood right in front of her, Bren.”

  “And she was something to see.” Brenna smiled.

  “Dyan was your real sister, right, Kyla?” Samantha asked. “I mean, your biological sister?”

  Kyla nodded. “I only had her for a few years. We grew up in different villages, raised by separate branches of Tristaine. But I always knew Dyan existed. I heard stories about her my whole life. And I dreamed about her, even before we met. The bond between blood sisters can be so intense and so sweet. You know about that, Sammy.”

  Brenna felt Samantha go still beside her. She held her breath, glad she couldn’t see her sister’s face. Kyla pressed her hand, sending her faith.

  “Yes, I do,” Samantha said softly.

  Brenna smiled at the ground and pressed Kyla’s hand back, sending her thanks.

  “So that explains why Dyan had this huge accent and you don’t.” Dana tossed a small pebble lightly in Kyla’s direction. “You grew up in different villages.”

  “Aye, lassie,” Kyla replied in a deep brogue. “Dyan’s trrrribe was a bunch o’ crrrude barbarians, who slaughtered all their ‘rrr’s.”

  “She would mean me,” Jess drawled. “Dyan brought Vicar and me with her when she joined this clan, Dana.”

  “Jeeze.” Dana scowled. “Y’all’s history is complicated enough without breaking into clan offshoots. You were born in this part of Tristaine, right, Ky?”

  “Yep, Camryn and Lauren and I were all homegrown.” Kyla smiled at Samantha. “Lauren was Cam’s blood sister. Maybe you should be taking notes.”

  “Good idea,” Sammy sighed.

  Brenna sat quietly through the relaxed banter that
followed. The warmth between Dana and Kyla was palpable tonight, almost flirtatious. Their fragile bond had grown strong since Tristaine had found this mesa.

  Brenna had a message for Kyla, one that might rekindle old grief, and she was reluctant to dim the new light in her sister’s eyes. But they hovered on the brink of battle, and there was no promise of future council. Brenna looked at Jess to gather her courage and cleared her throat.

  “I saw Camryn, Ky.”

  Kyla said nothing for a moment. She laid down a wedge of cheese and brushed her hands together carefully. A tremor shook her, but her eyes on Brenna were calm. “Tell me, adanin.”

  “She was as strong as a young horse.” Warmth surged through Brenna as she remembered the spirit warrior’s vibrant energy. “And grinning like a demon. She’s home, Kyla. Safe in Dyan’s care and thriving on her own path.”

  Kyla drew in a deep breath and looked at her hands folded in her lap. Her sisters waited with her. Dana sat with one elbow on a raised knee, watching Kyla with unreadable eyes.

  “Did she speak?” Kyla asked finally.

  Brenna nodded. “She was too far away for voices, but she sends you this.”

  She lifted her hand to her waist and performed the intricate twirling motion of wrist and fingers Camryn had formed on the ridge. Kyla’s lips parted, and her eyes filled with tears. Then she smiled, and Brenna remembered Shann’s belief that the very act of smiling through tears held the essence of healing.

  Brenna felt Samantha touch her back.

  “Is it okay to ask?”

  Brenna waited until Kyla nodded. “Sure, Sam.” She shifted so her sister could see her hands. “Amazons can communicate amazing things through hand signals.” She dipped her fingers in a subtle curve. “This is the universal signal for a deep and abiding love, the bond between adonai.”

  “It’s how we greeted each other.” Kyla brushed her hand across her cheek.