The Queen of Thieves: The Line of Kings Trilogy Book Three

by Craig R. Saunders

  'You will be, girl,' said a voice she didn't know. The mist parted and there was an old woman - maybe as old as Tulathia, striding through the mist. She was striking because her eyes were almost entirely white.

  But she saw well enough.

  'Tulathia,' she grinned. 'Should have known. Should have known.'

  Tulathia grinned back. Even old as she was, missing a few teeth, in that grin the years fell away from Tulathia.

  'I should have known, too. Seems we've both been blind.'

  'I wish there was time, Tulathia, but I'll be seeing you soon enough. Girl child, come with me. Now. No more time.'

  Rena noticed then that the old woman with the white eyes was bleeding. She was bleeding through her skin, so much so that her whole body was red.

  'Come with me girl. Last chance.'

  'Go!' said Tulathia. 'You've one chance, and Beatrain is it. Go!'

  Rena weighed her choices in an instant.

  Tulathia trusted the bleeding old woman. That much was clear.

  But Tarn was so close. Her King.

  She glanced up, and saw the great statues of the Guardian's gate - the gate to Madal's realm. Tarn was so close. All those she loved were on the other side of those immense gates.

  And yet, it wasn't everything she loved, was it?

  Rena found the strength she thought she'd lost. To one side and saw the great statues of the guardian's gate. To the other side, the bleeding woman...

  She took her chances, realising that everything she loved was not beyond the gates. There was work left to do. She closed her eyes, once, feeling the terrible pull, and then left the gates and her only lover languishing behind them and ran to the old woman's side.

  Yes, she was a lover. But she was a mother, too.

  *

  Chapter Sixty

  Asram knocked. He could see the blinding light through the cracks in the door. Witch's work, woman's magic, and frightening. A woman's magic is a terrible thing, he remembered Selana telling him and Rena.

  He was loath to enter, but he heard screams, now. Fear held little sway over Asram Fell. Not even fear of the unnatural.

  Shawford stood beside him. The gentleman seemed unperturbed.

  'It's a foolish man that enters a witch's lair unbidden,' said Shawford.

  'Never said I was smart,' said Asram, and pushed open the door with a firm hand.

  Within the hut he was forced to close his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them the light remained dazzling - almost a solid force, so powerful that he had to push with his weight against it, though it was nothing but light...

  Nothing but light, he thought, and pushed all the harder.

  Rena was screaming and fighting and the old woman was holding her down, that terrible, beautiful white light burning forth from her eyes and driving like lances into Rena's eyes. The girl screamed like she was in pure agony, and the babe was on the floor, screaming, too.

  Shawford ran through the wall of light as though it was nothing to him, though Asram still struggled through it. Crale bolted past Asram and reached the witch woman. He pulled her away from Rena - not gently, either. Asram heard something crack in the old witch - maybe Shawford had broken something.

  He did not care. He cared for nothing but to reach Rena, to save her from the witch.

  Rena continued to scream, thrashing around on the bed, even though the white faded as the witch hit the wall.

  The witch slumped, her white eyes slipped closed.

  Rena ceased screaming in an instant. Then she sat up.

  Asram's shouted out, almost a cry, a sound he'd never made in all his years as a killer. She had no eyes. The old witch had stolen Rena's eyes.

  *

  Chapter Sixty-One

  'Gods, witch! What have you done?! I'll kill you for this!'

  Now the magic was gone, Asram was not fighting against anything but his own rage. Asram's sword was in his hand in an instant, his usual speed returned, but before he could strike the old witch down dead, Rena cried out.

  'Asram, no! No!'

  He stayed his hand for just long enough in his shock that Rena could still sound so...calm...

  Her voice was soft when she spoke again.

  'The old mother saved my life, Asram. She saved my life. Put away your sword.'

  Shawford looked from Asram, to Rena, to the old witch who was bleeding from her scalp and nursing her wrist - broken, by Shawford's unnatural strength.

  'It was the only way,' said the old witch, breathing hard from exertion and pain. 'The only way.'

  'What in Madal's name have you done?'

  'I took her magic. She was dying. She had the blight - an illness fatal only to mages and witches. The magic lives in the eyes. I...excised the flesh...'

  The witch's words were soft, too, and panted, obviously in terrible pain from her broken wrist, and perhaps other breaks, too, as she had been flung against the wall.

  What kind of power did she have, that she could take Rena's eyes?

  Asram had no words. Everything dried up, but his eyes. He sheathed his sword and ground his teeth. He realised there was a tear on his cheek, looking at the beautiful woman sitting up, now. Where once she had pale blue eyes, harsh eyes maybe, she had dark sockets. There was no blood, no mess. A powerful magic lingered in the room and made Asram's hair feel like it stood proud of his scalp. His beard tingled with the energy still flowing.

  'Rena...'

  'It's OK,' she said. She pushed herself from the bed and walked unerringly toward her child.

  'I see just as well as I ever did...old mother?'

  'Beatrain.'

  'Thank you. Thank you for saving my life. Thank you. I've been shown what's important to me, and I won't forget it. I won't.'

  'I know you won't, girl. You've a power in you that needs no magic. You know, now, yes?'

  'I know much. I know too much. I was gone a long time.'

  'Two days,' said Asram, feeling foolish to be speaking in the face of such power. Rena, a proud young woman, a brave young woman, suddenly seemed...regal. She seemed at peace in a way that Asram had never known, despite the loss of her eyes. Perhaps, he thought, even more so because of it.

  Rena took her babe into her arms. Already the child ceased wailing and made satisfied noises that were probably words in baby language.

  'Two days?' asked Rena. Asram nodded, and was surprised to find again that Rena saw, somehow, the nod. Through what trickery, he didn't know. He remembered. A woman's magic is a terrible thing. He had to admit to himself that he was frightened of it in a way he'd never felt fear when facing a blade or bow.

  So you know fear. Now you know what it feels like.

  'Time is short. I know you're loath to, Asram, but we have no choice. We need to take horse. I fear the time has come for the final battle. An old friend told me as much in the mists before the gates.'

  'You saw the gates, Lady?' said Shawford. He sounded wistful. Hungry, Asram thought.

  'I did. And if the whole of Sturma falls, we'll all see them soon enough. I know now what's needed. Horses. Time...Sturma hangs in the balance.'

  'Then, can you ride?'

  'Like I was born a-horse,' she said with a smile. 'A witch never rides, but it seems I am no witch...'

  'Something more,' said Beatrain, who had pushed herself up with great effort to bow before Rena. 'Something more.'

  Rena walked calmly, seemingly serene in whatever new knowledge it was that she had found before Madal's Gates, and placed a kiss upon Beatrain's cheek.

  'We will not meet again, Old Mother, I think,' she said.

  Although it obviously pained her to do so, Beatrain placed both hands upon Rena's cheeks. 'You've sight, now, where before you only had eyes. Do not waste it, eh?'

  Rena nodded. Then she turned to Crale and Fell, who watched. Crale seemed hungry for something, still...a strange change had come over him at the mention of Madal's Gates. Asram Fell looked at both women in something akin to awe.

 
'Are you sure you're ready?' said Asram after a moment's pause. 'Should we rest a while?'

  'I feel better than ever,' she said. 'Like a weight has been lifted. Come, let's go.'

  She kissed Beatrain on her old dry cheek one last time. 'Thank you, old mother,' she said. 'And thank the Lady, too...' she added, but under her breath, so that the men could not hear.

  *

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  'Walk on ahead a way, would you, Asram?' said Rena. Her tone was light, but Asram felt it a request he needed to follow. She was his lady, his charge. He did not like to leave her with Crale, still. But Crale had proven true, had he not? He had thought he was saving Rena from the old witch.

  And now Rena's request was couched in such tones that Asram knew it was not an order, but a simple question posed to a friend. He felt the shift in their relationship. A furthering of understanding between the two of them.

  Perhaps he read too much into her tone, but he did not mind. The fact that her words were accompanied by that new, peaceful and serene, smile, made him soft.

  From terrified, to rage, to peace, in the space of one night. He was bone tired, but he nodded. If Rena needed to talk to Crale, he would break their trail and be happy for the exercise. He almost chuckled. Like he hadn't had enough exercise for one night. Hells, for a week.

  'As you wish, Rena,' he said. He moved on ahead and broke the trail through the snow, lessened, but still cold enough to freeze in his beard.

  Rena watched his broad back with her new, remarkable sight. Sight, like before, but the colours were sharper, and now she could see auras...she thought maybe that she had been made afresh.

  The adjustment, from waking from her dream, to saving Beatrain from her two protectors, to moving...it had been almost instant. Like her old eyes had always been a hindrance, her magic holding her back.

  Now she had no magic she was something else.

  'Shawford,' she said, trailing behind Asram. 'I met a woman on the other side. She told me what you are. I should have known, but now I see your aura, too. You are nightwalker.'

  Shawford nodded. Said nothing.

  'I want to thank you. You could have killed me and my babe, but you stayed your hand.'

  'What makes you think that was by design?' said Shawford.

  Rena smiled.

  'I know your mistress, now, Crale. I know the Queen, and she is a terrible mistress, is she not?'

  'You fear her?' said Crale.

  'Of course,' said Rena. 'I would be a fool not to. But she has long plans and some of them are for me, some for you. All I ask is that you see this through until the end.'

  'I'll think on it,' said Crale.

  'Then think fast, because in a week's time I aim to be in Naeth. The end draws near, and I have someone I wish to meet afresh.'

  'You play the game of Kings and Queens, Rena Lady,' he said.

  'I know. But I see far too, now,' she said and smiled.

  She didn't care if Shawford liked that smile or not, but she could see him frown well enough.

  *

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  There was a sense of snapping in the air. The Queen of Thieves stepped from the shadows in the old witch's hut. She was not covered with cobwebs, though stepping from the corner of the room where the light did not reach, she should have been.

  Beatrain wished she knew half the power that Selana had. Then, perhaps, her broken wrist and her cracked back would not hurt her half so badly.

  With one hand she mixed a philter for her pain. She would bind her wrist afterward. If she dealt with the pain first, she could deal with the splint later.

  'Time to call them,' Selana said without preamble, mindless of Beatrain's sudden jump, as though the snap and the appearance of the greatest witch in Sturma was a surprise.

  She had known Beatrain long enough. Almost as long as she had known Tulathia, back when that witch had been younger.

  'It is time...' said Selana again.

  Beatrain, the most powerful remaining human witch in Sturma, put her mixture down, and sighed. She turned and faced the Queen. For an instant she wondered who was the most beautiful of the two queens. But such matters were of little import.

  The Queen of Thieves was calling on the Covenant, and Beatrain had no choice but to listen.

  'The Witches' Covenant has not been invoked in a hundred years. Many do not even know the old way,' said Beatrain, though she was just making small talk. She knew the way this would go. She had seen as much with her gift of foresight, and even had she not, there was no denying Selana.

  'Those that do will have to be enough,' said the Queen of Thieves...the Queen of Witches. 'It will have to be enough, for we are the only hope for Sturma. For Sturma now, and for Sturma in the future, too. I see long, Beatrain, and the fight ends not this month...maybe not for a thousand years.'

  'And I guess you will be here to see it?'

  'Why would I not be?'

  'Immortality,' asked the old witch...'do you never tire?'

  'I never sleep. I need the diversion.'

  'The Steward?' said Beatrain.

  It was Selana's turn to be surprised. Then she laughed. That a human could surprise her still, after all her millennia on Rythe, all she had seen and done and learned, and yet humans had infinite capacity to shock her and keep her life fresh. No wonder she held such affection for the races of man.

  'Yes, old mother. The Steward...I am fascinated by him like no other. He is interesting...he is...'

  'Handsome? Swayed by mortal charms? I did not think it could happen.'

  'But happen it has. Enough,' said Selana. 'Call the Witches Covenant. Call the old ones, those who know. Call them to oath. Our land is threatened. It is our land. Not theirs.'

  'A woman's magic, eh, Selana?' said Beatrain, who had known the immortal witch for many decades.

  'Yes, Beatrain. It is time for a woman's magic. And Gods help Sturma for what we are about to unleash.'

  'You know Caeus will come again,' said Beatrain, carefully.

  'I'll deal with that when the time comes,' said Selana with a smile that on a less beautiful face might have been sad.

  'Caeus is a problem for another time. Another people...'

  She nodded, though Beatrain had not spoken. Beatrain felt that some thought had flitted through Selana's mind, and she would never be privy to it.

  Caeus.

  Caeus would come again.

  But like Selana said, he was a problem for another time. For now, Beatrain had to call on the Witches' Covenant.

  So thinking, Beatrain turned back to her mixture with a sigh and a nod for the Queen. She knew that if she turned around again, the Queen would be gone. She did not trouble herself to turn around, but turned over the problem of calling the witch kin of Sturma to their duty to the land of Kings. To Sturma.

  *

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  'I cannot ride,' said Crale, quietly to Rena as Asram travelled once more to the Wild Man tavern in Hullford to buy two stout horses for the remainder of the journey. The excitement of the previous night had faded, but Rena was tired to the bone, still. Tarn was restless in his sling. All four of them, it seemed, were ready for the end of their journey.

  'No horse will bear me. They know me for what I am.'

  'Then we part company?' she said, turning her head toward Crale with unerring accuracy.

  'For now, lady,' he said. He paused for a moment. 'I thank you for your discretion.'

  'Will we meet again?'

  'I do not know,' said Shawford truthfully. 'I think perhaps we might. You have my...promise...for what the word of a blooddrinker is worth. I will see the Queen's will through...I am...a thrall to her. I have no choice. I confess I considered drinking your blood.'

  Rena laughed, at the candour and the slightly apologetic tone from a man who was a cold killer.

  'Then we part,' she said. 'I will not say I am sorry to see you go, but for my part you have my amnesty, Shawford Crale. I know you carry
a heavy burden,' she said, indicating the ever present sack on Crale's shoulder.

  Crale nodded. Rena waited, for it seemed as though he had not yet finished speaking.

  Eventually, he spoke again, and Rena understood more about the creature that was Shawford Crale than she had thought possible.

  'You truly saw Madal's Gates, Lady?' he said.

  Rena nodded.

  'They exist, Shawford. They exist for all of us. Even for your kind. One day you may see them,' she said, understanding coming to her easily with her new sight.

  Crale nodded, once again. 'Maybe. Maybe.' He shrugged, like it did not matter to him, but she saw the shrug for the lie it was. 'Until Naeth, Lady. May your road be safe. I think, with Asram Fell, it will be,' he said. He actually bowed. Then he was gone and the sun rose, at last.

  Strange creature, thought Rena, as Crale left.

  Crale was gone from sight as Asram returned leading two horses. He handed the reins to Rena, and was surprised afresh at how easily her hand found the rein despite the holes where her eyes should be. Some people in town looked at her, but none spoke.

  They sensed something in her.

  As did Asram.

  'Where's Crale gone?' asked Asram.

  'He is not coming with us for the rest of our road, Asram.'

  'Oh,' said the man.

  'Why do you think I only sent you for two horses?' she asked.

  She smiled at him, and he was struck once again at her beauty, despite being maimed. Her serenity...something she had not possessed before. It was as though her rage had gone with her eyes.

  She almost laughed at the shock on his face.

  'Yes, Asram. I know things. Let's ride,' she said, and vaulted into the saddle with ease.

  She set off at a gallop, and Asram, not the greatest of riders, was forced to heel his horse into a jarring run just to keep up.

  *

  Chapter Sixty-Five