Anala glanced over her shoulder. "Aye, but..." she said, regarding the sword. "'e's almost painful ta hold. 'ere, ye feel." She handed the pommel to Ghia.
Ghia went to grasp the sword, but he moved away from her. Anala no longer held him; the Naratus balanced by himself on his tip, and Ghia's hand chased him around, unable to make contact.
Soon the healer gave up, not really wanting to hold a sword anyway, and leaned back on her bale of hay. Anala went to grab the sword, but before her hand reached him the Naratus fell by himself into her palm. A happy humming sound arose from him.
"He likes you," Ghia said decisively, stretching her hand.
"I ken that," Anala said softly, and she sheathed the Naratus. The leather was the same kind that was on his pommel. "It'd be a mite awkward switchin ta sword and shield after sa long two-handing," she said thoughtfully, looking at the shield that rested on her arm.
The Magisphere was a circular shield, and even more beautiful than her brother. There was a sun-burst motif of stones -- zircon of various colours, Rosa had told them -- on her face, alternating between green and brown shades as they radiated from the centre stone, which was incredibly large and seemed a blending of the two colours. Rosa had told them the two weapons were connected, and that the grounding power of the Magisphere would absorb any magekal or otherwise energetic blasts directed at the bearer before channeling the same energy into the Naratus so it could be used against the attacker.
What were you fighting when you made these, Rosa? Ghia had asked.
The Magea had not replied, though Ghia had seen a shiver shake Rosa's branches.
"How's yer hand holdin' up?" Anala's voice cut through the healer's thoughts, and she realised she'd been sitting there, absentmindedly flexing it.
"It's fine," she said, looking at the hand that was no longer a claw. "Still hurts a bit, and I can't hold a quill to save my life. But it gets better every day. Are you done practising?" she added, noticing the admiral looked ready to go.
Anala nodded and passed Ghia her cane so the healer could get up.
Before she'd left Atherton -- bearing a letter from Anala to the regiments on their way home from Harbourtown -- Rosa had healed Ghia's hand for her, but not the knee.
I'll have to re-break both to heal them, child. You won't be able to walk for a while.
Just the hand, then, Ghia'd replied and gritted her teeth. Unimaginable pain had shot through her as Rosa re-broke each tiny, individual bone in her hand and wrist, re-set them, and used Coran energy to make them start to knit. She'd instructed Ghia to exercise the muscles and be gentle with the hand, for it was not a perfect fix.
No worries there, she'd said. I have no desire to lose it again.
Then the Magea had left -- not before teaching Anala the basics of how to use her new weapons, and instructing the women in a few more magek techniques. If you wish, you should teach her more of what you know, Rosa had said to Ghia alone. It's well time she got a better hold of her powers.
Ghia had no idea how Rosa would get the letters and message to the homeward-marching bellicas without causing a small riot. She just trusted her mentor would get help.
Now the only thing left to do was wait. And practise.
That was the hardest part -- the waiting. Especially when both women wanted nothing more than to ride out to the Town Square and kill Lord Exsil Vis themselves. The man had hurt Anala so soundly it was a miracle the woman contained her rage, and Ghia was beside herself worrying over her aunt. What they could see of Atherton showed destruction or occupation. Had Kasandra escaped? Where would she have gone?
Goddesses, she hoped her aunt had made it. She didn't think she could handle more loss at the moment. First Molly, then Jera and Giselle, and Aro -- ah! Aro, her loyal paxwoman. Something she'd never thought she'd have. Jera and Giselle had been family, caustic and sweet members of a group bound to Ghia not by blood but by love. Oh, and Molly.... She'd thought she'd calmed that grief, but the fresh wounds had merely opened the floodgates of sorrow again. Why she felt such a connection to the young rebel, she didn't fathom but she had sensed the moment Molly's heart stopped. As if a mountain of grief had suddenly formed out of the foundation of her soul.
A thought struck her.
"Anala," she asked as they made their way down the hall, for Anala was now Ghia's self-appointed escort. "You witnessed Molly's execution, did you not?"
"Aye," the admiral said, sadness on her face.
"Did you...did you feel anything, physically, when she died?" The question was hard for the healer to voice, but it had to be asked.
Anala didn't answer right away; her face told Ghia she was thinking back.
"Aye," she said at length. "Twas as if me heart were being buried alive under a mountain of grief and pain. Felt -- suffocated, ye ken. Why d'ye ask?"
Ghia couldn't breath with the shock of the truth that had just hit her. "Dear Goddess," she said, wondering why she hadn't seen it before. "Anala, when one Magi dies, all the rest feel it."
Anala's eyes widened. "Ye mean ta say..."
"Yes. Molly was Magi." She took a deep breath and thought back to her time in the dungeon. "And unless I'm off my guess, Jester is one too."
"We'd 'ave ta find 'er then," Anala said quickly, determination suffusing her features.
"I will, Anala. Tonight."
~
Casting her consciousness out from the castle that night, Ghia had little hope of finding Jester. The girl could be in Mudflat by now, for Goddess' sake.
It was to her great surprise, then, when she found the girl's energy -- and Lt. James' too, she noticed -- in the enemy camp.
The healer wasn't able to make direct contact with Jester, who was sleeping, but she ascertained that both were safe...well, as safe as one could be in a Vocan seraglio. There were others in there too -- denizens of the city. Mostly women, but a few young boys. And James. She searched for anyone she might recognise, and half-happily found none. Not a huge victory. Nevertheless, she felt better thinking her friends dead rather than at the mercy of Lord Exsil Vis.
Casting herself further, she searched the town for Kasandra. The Cauldron had been burned to the ground, which brought tears to Ghia's eyes, and her aunt was not in the hidden room below the cellar. She knew Kasandra -- the woman would have escaped.
So where was she?
Kasandra
Cassiopeia was less than pleased to see Kasandra, but she honoured the debt called in regardless -- and more.
When the Queen of the Atherton Underworld heard what was happening above in her city, her domain, she ordered an immediate counterattack.
"Secret-like, you understand," she'd said to Kasandra. "You remember how it was."
"That I do, My Lady," Kasandra replied, and the two women smiled at each other in understanding, but not friendship.
"Will you join my women? You can still handle a knife, can you not?" Her smile took on a hard edge and Kasandra looked upon Cassiopeia's beautiful face with regret.
"You'll call me coward, old friend. But I have something to live for now."
Cassiopeia's smile vanished. "Your niece. I remember. Very well." She turned, moving away from Kasandra, whose body screamed not to let the woman go again. Cassiopeia sat regally on her wooden throne, piled high with furs and blankets, and regarded Kasandra in an almost bored fashion. "You and your patrons are refugees in the Thieves' City. You have a place to stay here so long as the city above is under siege. I want you out as soon as it's safe to go."
Kasandra bowed low before her once-friend, once-leader, once-lover. "Yes, My Lady."
She left before Cassiopeia could see the tears in her eyes, and returned to the rooms she shared with the patrons of her tavern -- praying to any Goddess that would listen that her Ghia was safe.
Yarrow
Jourd'Aradia, 14th Trinnia
She knew something was wrong the moment she could see into the city. The north gate stood open, and too many fires burned within the city its
elf. She thought she saw tents. Her gut twisted, every nerve tingling as her battle-sense screamed in her ear, Atherton's been invaded -- run, you fool!
Instead she turned to face her aunt. "Thadea, you need to ride back to our last camp and wait for us. If a member of the regiment or myself doesn't come back in five days, flee back to Atton."
Thadea frowned and sat on her horse, unmovable. "Thadea stays with Yarrow. Protection." She touched her hands to her blades.
Yarrow shook her head, feeling an intense need to get her aunt to safety. "Thadea, trust me -- if I'm right about who's invaded Atherton, you protect me more by being far away." She implored the woman with her eyes. "Please, Aunt -- keep yourself safe. You will not be able to help me where we're riding."
Thadea looked between Yarrow and Atherton, then nodded. "If you not back in five days, Thadea come help," she said sternly, and Yarrow didn't have the heart to correct the woman on her conviction or grammar.
"Ok," she said. "Now go. Please."
Thadea urged her horse away from the regiment, and then turned and rode it back down the road to Atton. Yarrow breathed a sigh of relief and turned back around to face the city.
"What was that about?" Jules asked.
"I think the castle's under siege," she murmured. "And there's only one person I can think who would invade us now."
Jules fell silent, catching her meaning.
They rode on to Atherton.
~
Before an hour had passed a rider approached them, and Yarrow saw her guess had been correct -- the man was Vocan.
"Halt!" he cried, and she noticed that at his belt he carried a pistol similar to the one Lares owned. "An approaching army rides...do you ride to oust his lordship?" His hand rested on his pistol threateningly.
Yarrow made herself laugh. "Hardly. Tell his lordship the exiled Bellica Yarrow and her regiment ride to join him." She gave the man a smile she'd learned from her sister.
The man frowned, fingers still resting on his sidearm. "Why should I believe you?"
Yarrow shrugged as if they were discussing the weather and not as if he held her life in his hands. "You shouldn't. But I have information his lordship will want dearly."
His curiosity piqued, the man urged his horse a bit closer. "Really? What is it?"
"Do I look so stupid as to tell you?" She glared at him, and he moved his horse a few steps back again. "Take me to his lordship, and he can decide whether or not I'm valuable."
There was a pause during which the messenger considered her offer. "Very well," he said at length, "you may ride in with me. Only you, mind -- your army stays here. We'll let his lordship decide what to do with you." He said it with self-satisfaction, as if it had been his idea in the first place.
"Your offer is acceptable," she said, knowing how to deal with his type. She turned to Jules. "Major, keep the regiment here until you hear from me or his lordship." Their eyes met in the fading light, and she hoped he caught all the unspoken messages she was sending.
"Yes, Ma'am," he said, and she was sure she saw the answering glint in his eyes.
She hoped she did.
Yarrow urged Pyrrhus to a walk, following the messenger back into her city. Behind her she heard Jules give the order to make camp.
They were not far from the city and soon they rode in through the North Gate. Yarrow could see she'd been right about the degree of occupation. Lord Exsil Vis' army was spread throughout the town like a plague. The gate to the castle was secured, and she saw the walls hadn't been breached. That was a blessing, for, if he'd gained the castle already, then Yarrow's information, and by extension her life and regiment, would be useless to him.
Looking up at the castle she wondered how everyone was faring -- if the people she loved were even still alive. She could see movement among the battlements, and saw that soldiers with crossbows were stationed there. She looked hard for her dark-haired friend the admiral but did not see her.
Looking farther up, she saw a light was on in the Spire. Zardria, no doubt in her study.
She felt a rush of emotion, and prayed the Goddesses would give her and her twin a chance to make things right together.
Oh, sister. I never wanted to fight. Forgive me what I'm about to do, she thought, and then faced forward, banishing her feelings and keeping her face a careful blank.
They came upon the Town Square, which was no longer a busy marketplace. Every inch was taken up with tents, campfires, and eating places. One exceptionally large, tall tent stood near the back, further away from the castle, and she guessed, correctly, that it was the current residence of Lord Exsil Vis.
They rode along the edge of camp, between tents and the buildings that lined the Square. The windows were dark and lifeless, doors broken down on some. Yarrow wondered what had happened to the people -- had they escaped? She was answered, in part, by movement on the south end of the camp. A woman was being led from another large tent, though it was not so tall as that of Lord Exsil Vis, and being sent to entertain the troops. A priestess, Yarrow could see from a glint of gold at her earlobe, yet the woman held no fear on her face -- only a gentle compassion.
The bellica's stomach lurched.
She noticed, too, that almost all of Lord Exsil Vis' troops were men. Looking again, and more closely, she saw not a single female face among them, save those who were obviously from the seraglio.
She was not given more time to notice details for they came upon Exsil Vis' tent. Her escort dismounted and told her to stay where she was while he himself entered the tent. A moment later he emerged, just as she remembered him. She fought back the rush of loathing that made her want to throw up and kept her face a mask of pleasantness.
He smiled up at her, arms akimbo. "Why, Bellica Yarrow -- it's been years. I never thought I'd see you ride into my camp with thoughts of an alliance."
Yarrow dismounted and bowed low before him. "My lord. Desperate times call for desperate measures," she said, praying that she'd made the right assessment of the man from Anala's report.
Lord Exsil Vis laughed then, and Yarrow breathed out in abject relief. "Stand up, girl." She obeyed, and did not bristle at his diminutive nor show how much hate she held for him.
I do this for you, she thought to her unborn daughter.
She looked him in the face -- they were of a height -- and noticed he was regarding her thoughtfully. "What are you thinking, my lord?"
He smiled. She wanted to punch him. "You look more like your father every day, Bellica."
Yarrow stiffened. "You knew my father." Of course he did; he served with mother in the regiments.
Lord Exsil Vis laughed again, long and loud, throwing his head back as he did. "Knew him! Why," his laughter cut off abruptly as he looked at her shrewdly, and she steeled herself, "Why, girl, I killed him."
She smiled at him. "Then it shows which of you was the stronger."
Her smile was returned and he placed his arm around her shoulders. "Glad to hear you do not share his personality as well, girl," he said, and she let herself be led into his tent. "Now, what is this information you think I'd like?"
Anala
It was one of her captains who found her and told her the news.
"Bellica Yarrow'd be back?" she whispered to the woman, who nodded. "Ye're sure -- ye saw her yerself."
"Yes Ma'am," Dina replied. "I watched her go into Lord Exsil Vis' tent. I think she's forming an alliance with him."
Anala's mind raced. "Aright, Dina," she said at length, "pass tha order through tha second regiment ta not fire on Yarrow, do ye ken? And make sure tha regiment gets spread around tha others more like," and she made her meaning clear with her look.
Dina saluted. "Yes Ma'am."
"Good woman," Anala said, and watched the captain go back to her duties.
Yarrow was back. Anala felt hope for the first time in too long.
Lares
He'd not seen Caelum in the library since before the fifth.
He'd continued
to go, for some reason -- mainly so he wouldn't have to think anymore. He couldn't bear to think about anything anymore.
Lares didn't know why Caelum had been researching Umbra and the Twisted Sisters, but he had a small suspicion. So he continued to do the research, hoping he'd find something of use for the Consort. It was, strangely enough, the one thing left in the Vocan's life to give him meaning.
He was puzzling out a particular passage in a very old book when Anala found him.
"What are ye doing, Lares?" her tone was one of exasperated affection.
"Admiral," he said, only mildly surprised to see her. "I was just reading about Twisted Sisters -- the servants of Umbra."
"Aye?" she said tolerantly. "What about 'em?"
"Well, this passage says they can only be killed by a Great Power -- but it doesn't say what that is, and I can find no other reference to it in any of these books." He threw his arm up in helplessness. "I'm baffled."
Anala leaned over his shoulder then, looking at the book he held open on his lap. "Le'me see?"
He held the book up to her and watched her eyes chase the words on the page.
"Huh," she said at length. "I'd not ken what it's about, Lares. Fascinatin', though." Her tone told him she was bored. He smiled and put the book down before standing to face her. She looked as a completely different person with her hair cropped short and the new medal on her breast -- a Red Arrow, for bravery in the face of extreme danger.
"What can I help you with, Admiral?"
She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "We'd not talked fer a while, which ye must admit'd be passing strange fer a woman and her paxwoman."
He flushed and looked down at his feet. "My apologies, Ma'am. I've been --"
"Betraying yerself ta the Empress, it seems." He looked up sharply. "Dinnae try an deny it, Lares -- I'd just come from seeing her. She asked me why I'd lied ta her upon yer appearance here in town. Now, I'm a mite mad at ye, fer I dinnae appreciate being put on tha spot as such, so I'll ask ye once: do ye ken where me sister'd be?"
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