by Tony Donadio
Kay closed her eyes, and a look of pain — not physical pain, but a painful memory — clouded her visage. She choked back a sob.
“Something like that,” she whispered.
Then her eyes opened again.
“What happened, Diana? I don’t remember much after I was attacked.”
“What’s the last thing you do remember?”
“It was late afternoon,” she said. “I was … guarding someone. There was a demon, and then blackness … Then everything became a blur. More demons, pain, crawling, trying to get away, trying to find somewhere safe. Then dreams. I heard music, and saw the Blood Moon …”
New tears ran down Kay’s face. Diana took her hand and held it tightly.
“There was a battle,” she said quietly. “The Archmage appeared with the princess in the face of the moon. They fought the demons together with magic and song.”
Kay shuddered. She was openly crying now.
“Then she made it,” she sobbed. “I didn’t fail her.”
Diana’s eyes went wide. She looked around, but no one was near enough to have heard. She bent down and put her face next to Kay’s.
“Is that who you were guarding?” she whispered. “The princess?”
Kay nodded.
Diana’s feelings were numb from the stress of her long day in the trauma ward. Now, without warning, a stab of emotion welled up again within her. She found it difficult to keep from crying as well.
“They were magnificent,” she whispered. “She stood with the Archmage as he wielded a powerful magic against the gate.”
“Did they …”
“They gave their lives to destroy it. The demons took the city, but no more of them will be coming to Kalara.”
She sat there for a long time, holding Kay’s hand as she wept. Finally the guard raised her head and kissed her cheek.
“Thank you,” she said.
Diana blushed. Then she slowly rose to her feet.
“I need to get you something to cover you,” she said. “A blanket, and something soft against that bruised skin. Hang on a minute and I’ll be right back.”
She wasn’t gone long. When she returned she was carrying some bedding and a small folding cot. She found Kay grinning at her stupidly.
Diana set down the cot and began to cover her with a sheet. “Well, that didn’t take long,” she said with a smile.
“Nope!” Kay giggled. “Feeling much better, now!”
Diana laid a blanket over the sheet and tucked it carefully around her. Kay glanced at the cot.
“Are you going to bunk with me?” she asked.
“I am,” Diana said firmly. “I’ve been working all night, and I’m too tired to walk home. And I want to keep an eye on you. You need to stay awake for a while, at least until I’m sure you’re over that concussion. I thought we might chat a bit and keep each other company.”
Kay laughed. “It’ll be like a sleepover!”
Diana laughed too, despite herself. She lay down on the cot, drew up her blanket, and turned to her new friend.
“I had a bit of a run-in with a demon myself yesterday, you know,” she whispered. “How about I tell you my story, and you tell me yours?”
Chapter 25 - The Seeds of the Rebellion
In Search of Accomplices
Diana gently closed the dead soldier’s eyes and drew the sheet over his face. He was the third patient she had lost since beginning her nights at the Cathedral hospital five days ago.
She started to bow her head, to offer a prayer to the gods to guide his soul into the Light. Then she caught herself. Her eyes darted furtively around for the guards, or one of the “supervisors” that had taken to wandering the trauma ward.
She breathed a sigh of relief. No one was looking. No one had seen her lapse.
The supervisors had been a regular presence in the hospital since her arrival. Their job appeared to be to watch for behavior unacceptable to the new rulers of Carlissa, and to ensure that it was punished swiftly and ruthlessly. Their first lesson had been to make clear that devotions to the former religion of Carlissa — to the Covenant, as taught by the Church of the Divine — were now considered acts of blasphemy, punishable by death.
They had made a public show of “leniency” the first time it had happened. A nurse had been overheard saying the prayer for the dead over a lost patient, and had been taken through the hospital and publicly beaten in every ward. The displays had been accompanied by warnings that the next such transgression would not be viewed with such tolerance. When they were done they had left her, bruised, bloody and sobbing, on the floor of the main hall.
That was the first time. The second time the guards, at a nod from one of the supervisors, had simply unsheathed their swords and killed the man offering the prayer.
There hadn’t been a third infraction.
Diana gritted her teeth. They might be able to forbid her from praying openly, but the privacy of her mind was still her own.
Go now into the embrace of the Divine, brave soldier, she thought fervently.
As if in response to her prayer the Cathedral bells began to toll. One, two, three, four … five strokes. It was five am.
She picked up her clipboard and stood looking at it thoughtfully. Her eyes were becoming blurry with exhaustion, but she still had half a dozen charges to look after before the end of her shift. And she needed to work those around the meeting she’d planned in the supply room at half past the hour.
The first was a woman who had been beaten brutally during the massacre. Frequent fits of terror had left her unable to sleep afterward, and they’d been forced to sedate her every evening since she arrived. Diana noted with relief that she finally seemed to be resting on her own. She gently checked the woman’s pulse and breathing, made a note on her clipboard for her mother when she checked her again during her shift in the morning, and moved on.
Her next patient was a shopkeeper who had also died in the night. She wasn’t surprised, given the man’s wounds. He’d been gored during the battle by some kind of horned demon, and it was a miracle he’d lasted this long. Again she drew the sheet over his head, thought a silent prayer dedicating his soul to the Divine, made a notation on her clipboard, and moved on.
Her next two charges were more promising. The couple had suffered terrible burns, mostly on their legs, when a blaze was set around their block of homes. The Hellmen had come for them and their neighbors, and used the ring of flame to drive them into the open for capture. They’d risked the fire to escape the Taking and succeeded, but at a terrible cost.
Diana shuddered, thinking of their excruciating pain during the hours afterward, hiding in a thicket near one of the terrace walls. By the time they’d been found in the morning their burns were already becoming infected. Now they were out of the woods and recovering well, thanks to the salves that she had mixed for their treatment. They would have terrible scars for the rest of their lives, but they had escaped becoming slaves of the Hellmen.
At least, for now.
The two were dozing lightly as they lay on their cots next to each other, hands outstretched so that their fingers touched. They woke when Diana approached, and smiled at her with grateful eyes. Their condition had been deteriorating until she’d begun caring for them, and they knew she was the one who’d saved their lives. They chatted warmly as she gently replaced their bandages, washing and — to their relief — applying a new coat of the balm to their burns. The ointment included an anesthetic, and she was glad to see the pain ease from their eyes as she treated them.
By the time she was done, urging them back to sleep and writing another note on her clipboard, she knew she was late for her meeting. Carefully, with as much nonchalance as she could manage, she made her way toward the corridor between wards. After a quick look around to check that she wasn’t being watched, she ducked through the shadowed entrance to a descending stairwell.
Her hand held firmly to the banister as she went down the steps. The
re was no illumination in what lay below, and she found the light dimming quickly around her. Her heart began to race a bit, but she didn’t slow. She’d known to expect this and was prepared for it.
The stairway turned sharply, went through an archway, and began to descend again. It didn’t take long before she had entirely lost the already dim light from above. She continued on, stepping carefully and testing the steps as she went, her hand tightly gripping the banister on her right. She’d been told to use it as a guide to the level of the basement storerooms, and to follow it to her rendezvous.
She stopped when she reached the end of the stairs. She was completely enveloped in darkness.
“Hello?” she asked softly.
There was no reply. A shiver of unease crept up the nape of her neck. She felt suddenly exposed and vulnerable in the surrounding blackness.
The mysterious message had promised a meeting with conspirators against the Warlord’s regime. She’d come eagerly — and now, she realized, with too little caution. If this were a trap …
“You’re late,” a quiet voice said.
She turned, but she could see nothing in the pitch darkness. The words didn’t seem to come from any particular place, but from all around her.
He’s good, she thought. She had sharp senses, and none of them had given her a hint to the man’s presence. No scent, no sound, not even breathing.
“I know,” she whispered. “I had to wait for a break in my rounds. It would have looked suspicious otherwise.”
There was a long pause. She began to feel even more uncomfortable standing in the darkness. The silence around her was broken only by the sound of her own breathing, and the hammering of her heart in her ears.
“Sensible,” the voice said at last. “But it’s dangerous to keep a contact waiting. Dangerous for him, and dangerous for you. You need to work on your timing.”
Diana smiled. The rebuke didn’t unsettle her. It was mild compared to the ruthless criticism she was used to from her father.
“So you want to play rebel against the Dark?” the voice asked. It took on an amused, almost condescending tone, as if playing with her. “Why should the resistance want your help? It needs fighters and spies, not spoiled noble girls acting out an adolescent rebellion.”
Diana felt the heat rising in her face. She fought to control her anger, to keep her voice calm and reasoned. She didn’t fully succeed.
“I watched good people die when the Warlord came,” she whispered hotly. “And every day I tend others who were maimed in the massacre. I lost two more a few minutes ago. You dare call me a spoiled girl for wanting to fight the monsters that did this?”
“You’re a pampered ambassador’s daughter,” the voice said. It was openly mocking now. “You’ve read too many adventure stories that romanticize fighting the Dark. The reality will be nothing like that. You’ll run home to your father’s protection at the first sign of real danger.”
Diana’s hands balled into fists as she spun, angrily seeking the source of the taunting voice. She knew in that moment that if she’d found the man, she would have hit him.
“You know nothing about me,” she said acidly. “Or what I’m prepared to do.”
The voice chuckled. “And what is that?”
“Whatever it takes.”
“Even kill?”
“Of course.”
The flat coldness of her response silenced him. Diana went on, practically spitting her words in indignation.
“I fought a demon in the city,” she said. “It attacked the group I was fleeing with. It slaughtered them with magic and claws. I put a knife in its eye. When it was over only two of us were left, and it was dead.”
“Talk,” the voice mocked.
“The only ‘talk’ here is from you,” she retorted. “I have the scars to prove it. And if this is all you have to say, you’re wasting my time. Go away and don’t contact me again.”
She turned, groping for the handrail in the dark, stepping blindly to find the stairs she had just descended.
To her surprise her hand found not the banister, but another hand. The grip was strong and masculine, and it held hers firmly. She found herself suddenly aware of the man’s presence — the sound of his breathing, the shift of his feet on the stone floor, the faint scent of cologne. She stopped, uncertain, and they stood together for a long moment.
“You have an angry fire in you, Lady Dal Meara,” he said at last. “You will need to learn to control it better, and to be more careful, if you are to be of any use to us.”
Diana relaxed slightly. She should have known the taunting was a test. She felt suddenly foolish.
“What do you need me to do?” she asked.
“For now, keep your eyes and ears open,” he replied. “And your wits and temper about you. Learn what you can about sentiments among the nobility, and your father’s contacts.”
“He won’t confide in me,” she said. The tightness in her voice betrayed her bitterness. “He’s trying to protect me. Whatever he’s doing to undermine Zomoran’s regime, he won’t let me help.”
“There are other things you can do. Learn what you can, and keep your inquiries discreet. The Warlord has his own spies at court.”
“How will I contact you?”
“Those details will be worked out in a series of meetings. You will belong to cell eleven. It will meet tonight. Bring any recruits you can, but only if you are certain that their hearts are fully with us.”
She nodded as he gave her the address.
“I know who to bring,” she said confidently. “What do we do when we get there?”
“It’s a hall for music and dancing in the Upper City North,” the voice explained. “The Warlord is lifting the curfew tonight, and has ordered revels to be held throughout Lannamon.”
Diana made a disgusted noise. “Yes, I’ve heard. He’s going to a lot of trouble to try and buy our good will. After what he’s done to us, I doubt much will come of it.”
“Don’t underestimate his plan. The people have been living for days in fear of their lives and stressed to the point of breaking. Like an abused child, many will try to convince themselves that their new ruler loves them, if he makes a show of it. And if his beatings are infrequent enough.”
“The Carlissan people aren’t children,” Diana said tightly.
“Perhaps not. In any event we will take advantage of the opportunity. Many will venture out into the city for the festivities, and so shall we. The activity will give us cover to begin our plans.”
“How? By going to a dance?”
“In your case, yes. Lord Kelson is sponsoring the party there. Can you convince your father to let you attend? Without arousing his suspicions?”
“He’ll want a guard on me for certain,” she said slowly. “But I can persuade him to choose one we can trust.”
“Very good. The dance will begin at seven bells. Try to be on time, and blend in.”
“And then?”
“When the time comes you will be contacted. Fare well now, Lady Diana. Good fortune to you — and to us all.”
The hand released hers, and his presence was suddenly gone. There was no sound of steps walking away. She found herself alone again in the darkness.
Diana smiled as she made her way back up the stairs. Her father might not trust her to help, but she wouldn’t let that stop her from making allies against the demons — and she had taken the first step.
Closure
Orion walked aimlessly through the streets of the Upper City North. Like his mood, the day was overcast. The noontime sun hid in a gray haze that surrounded the valley of Lannamon.
After six days he had finally been granted leave. Dame E’lath had kept their course in session for nearly the entire time, allowing them to return to their dormitories each night only to bathe and to sleep. They had even taken their meals in class under her supervision.
He thought of the beautiful seminar room by the garden, and shuddered. When he
had begun his first class as an instructor the week before, he’d thought it impossible to imagine a more perfect setting for learning. Now he couldn’t think of a place he hated more in the entire world.
Dame E’lath’s instruction had been harsh, demanding, and relentless, and it had taken its toll on her students. But it was finally over. The survivors had stood for their qualifying exam that morning. Those who passed had received a full day off as a reward. As promised, she had taken her pick from those who failed. The rest had been removed for reassignment to a “less privileged” position in the city’s new order.
Orion had passed, of course, and with distinction. He had despised every word of the Hellwoman’s indoctrination, but he was still a first-rate scholar. He knew how to analyze and learn a system of philosophical thought, twisted and evil though it might be. And he knew that he would need to understand his enemies’ ideas if he were going to fight them. It had been easy enough to grasp what was expected of him on the exam, and to provide it.
The experience had left him with an intense desire to bathe.
He’d done that on returning to his little apartment in the Lower City. Thankfully it had avoided the fires that had ravaged so many other buildings, and the running water from the aqueduct system still worked. Afterward he’d cleaned up, disposing of the food that had spoiled during his long absence.
That had left him with a feeling of empty depression — and nothing to do.
He couldn’t go home to his family. He had few friends outside the academy, and he found that the thought of returning there now repelled him. He wouldn’t do it a minute sooner than his orders required.
There were supposed to be some kind of events in the city that evening, to celebrate the Warlord’s new reign. The curfew was being extended for them from dusk until midnight.
He didn’t feel like celebrating.
So he had taken to the streets. He hadn’t thought where to go, and for a while he followed a meandering path through the Lower City. Eventually, though, he found himself wandering east along the firth, and up into the first level of the northern terraces.