“I let them go to their families if they chose,” the older woman answered. “All but old Rona, my baker, who has no family.” Then Gillian paled. “The Wolfyn came from the cellars. If they passed by the kitchens…” Her voice trailed off.
“I smell baking bread,” Vilia noted.
“I will go and see for you,” Lara said. The two mortal women had had more than enough this day, she thought. She knew what entertaining the Wolfyn would have involved. Gillian’s bravery hardly surprised her but Vilia’s certainly did. She left them and went down to the kitchen where she found the poor baker dead in a chair. With a wave of her hand Lara sent the body to its grave and then removed the loaves of bread from the ovens. Returning to Gillian and Vilia she told them the baker had been killed by the Wolfyn and that old Rona had been disposed of with honor. “Now I must leave you,” she said.
“Where will you go?” Vilia asked her.
“First home to tuck my children into their beds, for it is night now in Terah. Then I shall return to fight in the battle that is to come. Remember, Hetar is the land of my birth. With the blessing of the Celestial Actuary we may defeat the forces of the Twilight Lord this day.” And then she was gone from them.
“What an unusual creature she is,” Vilia noted. “In the midst of all this chaos she thinks of her children. I would not have thought her a good mother given her life.”
“I suspect when she does not have the weight of our worlds upon her slender shoulders, she is happiest being nothing more than a wife and a mother,” Gillian remarked.
“Do you think her children have magic?” Vilia wondered.
“Mayhap, although their fathers have been mortal,” was the reply. Then Gillian said briskly, “We had best prepare for the women and children we are to shelter,” as a knock sounded upon her front door downstairs.
Throughout The City the doors and windows of every available building were being shut and barred. The morning was breaking, but the skies above were gray and dark clouds loomed on the horizon. Those on the walls could see the fires of the Wolfyn encampment and the shadowed figures of the enemy hurrying back and forth. They saw the fire machines anchored in their pits, kettles of pitch burning next to them. Tightly woven balls of oily wool stacked in piles next to the kettles were to be dipped into the pitch and flung from catapults. The fire machines would be used to destroy enough of The City to bring its inhabitants to their knees in abject surrender. Many could die.
Hrolleif, the high commander of the Wolfyn, paced back and forth within his tent. He had lost his favorite nephew, Ulf, whose head had been thrown from the battlements of The City along with Rolf and Fernir’s. Hrolf and at least a dozen other Wolfyn had been roasted within the tunnel when it had been set afire. He had been mad to even consider using the tunnel. Battling face-to-face with an enemy was far preferable to sneaking up on him. Hrolleif looked into the reflecting bowl on his camp table.
“My lord, we are almost ready,” he said.
The Twilight Lord’s face appeared upon the surface of the water. “Try not to destroy everything or kill everyone,” he cautioned his general. “And remember that the faerie woman is mine. She is not to be harmed. As for the rest of them I care not what you do. Slay her husband if you can.”
“And the Hetarian hierarchy, my lord?”
“Kill its pompous emperor. You may have the empress for yourselves. I do not want her but I believe she will scream quite nicely for you, Hrolleif,” Kol said.
The Wolfyn commander smiled toothily. “What of the rest of them?”
“Leave them be for now. I believe I may have kin among them and I should never kill my kin,” Kol murmured. “Family is so important, is it not?”
“Indeed, my lord. Will Skrymir and his giants be joining us?”
“The traitor has deserted us, but one day we will repay him for his perfidy,” Kol said darkly.
“Do not fret yourself, my lord,” Hrolleif said. “My Wolfyn and I can take The City easily and then will Terah fall to us,” he boasted.
“Be certain that you do,” Kol said, his dark voice heavy with menace. And then his image disappeared from the watery surface of the reflecting bowl.
“We are ready to attack, Commander Hrolleif,” his second’s voice announced.
“Then let us begin,” Hrolleif said. “I want to spend my evening in one of those Pleasure Houses for which Hetar is so famed,” he growled as he walked outside to view his troops. They were a fine-looking bunch, he thought. He raised his hand in signal. At once those on the great horned battering ram began to pound upon the main gates of The City, but try as they might, and despite Hrolleif’s roars of encouragement, the gates did not give way in the slightest.
Up on the walls the Hetarian soldiers looked down and laughed until the tears rolled down their faces. They knew their gates were secure thanks to the Shadow Princes. There would be no battle until they were ready. The Wolfyn howled with their anger and frustration.
Hrolleif had not planned on using the fire machines until the last, but now he signaled to the soldiers standing by them to begin hurling some of their pitch-covered balls into The City just to teach these arrogant Hetarians a lesson. The first three fireballs soared toward the roofs of The City, but then as Hrolleif watched in amazement the fireballs seemed to hit some barrier and they bounced back to his encampment, setting several tents afire. He roared with his fury as his attack on The City came to a halt while the Wolfyn scurried to put out the fires before the entire camp was ablaze. The Hetarians on the wall roared with their laughter.
And then suddenly the gates to The City opened wide, revealing a great army which marched out to meet his own men. And when they had all exited, Hrolleif saw a great platform set up in the open gates. On it sat the fat and foolish emperor of Hetar and his beautiful wife, along with other dignitaries including the faerie woman, Lara, his master Kol’s mate. But the faerie was not garbed as befit a woman. Instead, she wore tight-fitting doeskin breeches that clung to her supple form, a white shirt, and over it a small golden breastplate. The long golden gilt hair he remembered was hidden beneath a golden helmet and upon her back was a sword the like of which he had never seen. Even from here he could see there was something special about the weapon. Why would a beautiful woman carry such a weapon? Women did not own weapons.
Hrolleif suddenly realized that men and Wolfyn were fighting all around him, and he swung his sword, engaging the enemy in battle as he had been taught so long ago. He battled his way through the mass of fighting men, something seeming to lead him onward toward the platform in the gate. And then suddenly he found himself standing before the faerie woman, Lara. “Woman!” he shouted. “Step aside!” But she did not. Instead she drew her weapon from its scabbard and raised it aloft. Hrolleif was astounded.
Her green eyes were like ice and he felt the cold as if he had been encased in it. Her great sword met his, metal clanging noisily against metal. He drew back. He didn’t want to fight her. She was Kol’s mate. It was his duty to return her to the Dark Lands so his master would be happy again and would reward him. But then he saw the glowing eyes of a face in her sword’s hilt. And he heard a deep dark voice begin to sing.
“I am Andraste, companion to the mighty swordswoman, Lara. I have come to drink the blood of the evil ones.”
“Come, Hrolleif,” Lara’s voice mocked him. “Surely you are not afraid of a mere woman? If I allow you to live, how will you explain it to Kol?”
“I would rather die with my own sword in my hand than face the Twilight Lord with my failure,” Hrolleif said.
“So be it,” Lara told him. They began to battle in earnest.
He was a good opponent. He was strong but Lara was quicker and, Hrolleif soon realized, far more skilled than he was. He was astounded by her expertise. For every blow he offered, she blocked him. Twice she blooded him. Her sword sang as it tasted his flesh. He had never imagined that any woman could be so fine a warrior. But he fought on, for to yield to a woman w
as simply unthinkable. About them the fighting slowly stopped as both sides watched the two battle. The other Wolfyn were shocked that their commander would even engage a woman in battle, but they could see Lara was no ordinary warrior. The sound of metal on metal resounded loudly about the battlefield. Hrolleif was visibly tiring. He stumbled over his own feet and Lara stepped back to allow him to regain them. If it had been her, Hrolleif thought, I would have killed her. He struggled to his feet. He could feel his heart laboring hard in his chest cavity. He was near his end—he sensed it. Then an icy chill went down the backs of both friend and foe as the mighty sword Andraste began to sing once again.
“I am Andraste. Yield to the swordswoman, Lara of Terah, Hrolleif of the Dark Land. Yield or die! I am Andraste, and I am prepared to drink your blood, oh servant of the evil one! Yield or die!”
Lara fought the high commander of the Wolfyn fiercely, driving him to his knees. Then their eyes met in complete understanding and she quickly thrust Andraste into Hrolleif’s heart and as quickly withdrew it. He fell forward and his second raced to his side to seek a pulse. There was none. Suddenly all the Wolfyn raised their heads to the dark skies and howled. A moment later, however, the full battle was renewed. None would dare fight the faerie woman, so she withdrew to the platform within the open gates of The City and watched as the ground was flooded in blood, until every Wolfyn lay dead, caught between the army before them and the one behind, which had advanced from the Coastal Province.
When the last of the enemy had been slain the skies opened and a heavy rain came down on the battlefield. The downpour was so thick that they could see nothing of what had been. When it ended, the clouds fled northward and the skies became a clear bright blue and the sun shone down on them so that they saw all signs of the carnage were gone. There were no bodies to be seen. The tremulous voice of Gaius Prospero was heard as he came down from his throne to peer about. “Where are the bodies?”
“The magic kingdoms have taken them,” Lara said. “You will find those slain Hetarians in a newly created graveyard to the west of The City where their kin may come and pay their respects.”
“And the Terahns?” the emperor quavered.
“Our casualties were as bad as yours, Gaius Prospero, perhaps worse. Our people are not martial by nature. A great deal of Terahn blood has been shared to save Hetar and keep it safe. Remember that, for Hetar now owes Terah a debt. We will want to collect on that debt one day.”
Gaius Prospero nodded slowly in reply. Then he turned to address a slender young boy who had run up to where they stood. “What is it?” the emperor asked impatiently.
“I must speak with the lady Lara,” the boy said. To Lara’s eye there was something familiar about him.
“What is it, lad?” she asked him gently.
The boy’s face suddenly crumpled and he began to weep. “S…Sister,” he sobbed. “Our father is dead. Our father has been slain in the battle.” Then he flung himself at her and Lara’s arms closed automatically about him.
“Mikhail?” Her arms tightened around the boy.
His tear-stained face looked up at her and he nodded.
“You were an infant when I left Hetar,” Lara said. “And I know that your mother told you nothing about me. How did you know I was your sister?”
“Father told me,” the boy said low. “He was proud of you, but my mother is a jealous woman.”
“How came you here on the battlefield, Little Brother? And how do you know our father was killed?”
“He was beginning my training in warfare,” Mikhail said, his voice trembling as he spoke. “I awaited him on the edge of the battlefield with an extra sword and a mace. I saw him fall from his horse. When he tried to rise, a Wolfyn leapt upon him and slew him. Then his body disappeared as the battle ended. John Swiftsword, Hetar’s greatest swordsman, is dead, Sister.”
Lara stroked his nut-brown hair. “You must be the man of the family now, Mikhail. Susanna will need you. Be good to her. You will find our father’s grave, marked with his name, in the new graveyard west of The City. He rests upon the highest point there.” Then she tipped his face up so she might look into his eyes. “If you should ever need me, Mikhail, son of Swiftsword, you have but to call my name and I will come to you, for we share blood between us.” She kissed his cheek. “Go.”
The boy gave her a tremulous smile, then turned and walked away. Lara looked again at the emperor. “We will take our dead and be gone.”
“Now my people and I will bid you farewell, Gaius Prospero. Do not attempt to venture into Terah again. Let things return to the way they were between us, emperor of Hetar,” Magnus Hauk said in a stern voice.
A mighty clap of thunder shook the entire city and the Dominus of Terah, his wife, his soldiers and the Terahn dead disappeared. A gasp arose from those still present, then it was silent.
Finally Lord Jonah spoke. “My lord emperor, I believe the entertainment is now over. You will want to return to your palace.” He helped Gaius Prospero up.
“Yes, yes,” the emperor said. “Where is Shifra?”
“I am here, my dear lord,” the young empress said as she escorted her husband to their elegant gold litter. “I will see he is made comfortable, Lord Jonah.” Then at her signal the imperial litter was quickly borne off.
Vilia came to her husband’s side. “It has been a full day, my lord, has it not?”
“Why were you at Lady Gillian’s?” he surprised her by asking.
“She was alone and I was alone. She asked me to remain. I was glad to do so as you were gone, our servants had scattered into hiding and the streets are not safe at night,” Vilia said quietly. “Would you have preferred I walk home to an empty house in the dark, Jonah, my love?”
“How did you and Gillian hold off the Wolfyn?” he demanded to know. “I have heard naught but how brave you were, my wife, in seeking out the guard.”
“Then you know that three Wolfyn gained entry into Gillian’s home through one of the old tunnels beneath The City,” Vilia told him. Be careful, her instinct warned her. “There was no one in the house but Gillian’s baker. They killed her and then found us in Gillian’s apartment. Stupid creatures! They had heard of Pleasure Women, and were impressed by Gillian’s manners and elegance. She pretended I was her sister and sent me for wine and restoratives.”
“And they let you go alone?” Jonah asked. “Then they were indeed stupid.”
“Nay, they sent one of their number as my escort. He came behind me. As we reached the bottom of the staircase in the main hall I spied a thin brass vase. I grabbed it, swung about and hit the beast with it several times. Then I fled from the house and found the guards.”
“Did you kill it, Vilia?” Jonah asked softly.
“Nay, he was still alive when the guards returned. They delivered the death blow, my lord,” Vilia told him.
He took her face between his thumb and his forefinger. “Were you ravished, Vilia? Do not lie to me, for I will know if you do,” he said in even softer tones.
“My lord! Nay! How can you even ask such a thing of me?” Vilia protested, shuddering with open distaste. She stared directly into his dark eyes as she denied it.
His strong thin fingers pressed hard against her cheeks. “I would have to kill you, Vilia, if I knew another had had you, my love.”
“You are jealous, my lord,” she taunted him. “But without reason. If I had been ravished I should have killed myself rather than bear the dishonor. Remember the noble house from which I spring, Jonah. Is it possible, just possible, that what began between us as an alliance of ambition has turned to love?”
A ripple of something passed so quickly across his face that she wasn’t even certain she had seen it. “Love,” he said coldly, “is for fools.”
Vilia laughed. “You were always a bad liar where I was concerned, Jonah, but I will leave it at that. The danger from the Twilight Lord has passed. The Terahns have left us to our own devices. Now, my lord, what are we to do next
?”
“We will build our alliances, my love, while we wait for Gaius Prospero’s promised demise. It should not be long, Vilia.”
She smiled at him. “I agree. So let us go home. You could probably use a nice bath, some food, some wine from our vineyards. And then perhaps we may spend the night taking pleasures with one another. I have missed you while all of this has been going on, my lord. I long to have your manhood within me making me weep with delight. Are you not eager, my lord, for our reunion?” she purred, her tongue running provocatively over her lips.
“Aye,” he said. “I am hungry for you, my love.”
Thank the Celestial Actuary, Vilia thought. His suspicions were allayed. The thought that he would have killed her had he known of her encounter with the Wolfyn angered her. How in the name of holy Hetar did he think a woman escaped a situation like that in one piece? Were all men fools? Gillian was right. It was time for the women of Hetar to take over.
Life slowly returned to normal, but the poor were poorer and the economy did not improve. Small grumblings were beginning to be heard in the public squares of The City. There was even some talk of removing the emperor, but no one dared move further. One morning the news flew through The City that the young empress had disappeared in the night. The emperor had fallen asleep in her arms and when he had awakened she was gone. A search of the palace was made, but no trace of Shifra was found. It was as if she had simply evaporated into thin air.
Gaius Prospero was convinced that his wife had been kidnapped. He offered a great reward for any information leading to her safe return but no one came forward to claim the bounty. And then to everyone’s surprise the emperor began to have nightmares that Shifra was calling to him from the Dream Plain. He would awaken covered in sweat and shouting her name. The physicians were called and they dosed the emperor with sleeping medication so he would have no dreams. Drugged at night and drunk on Razi most of the day, Gaius Prospero began to sink deeper and deeper into depression. He wept for his lost wife during his conscious moments. His children came to see him. His daughters brought his grandchildren but the emperor did not care. He kissed them absently and then sent them away. The most beautiful of The City’s Pleasure Women were brought to him yet he was not in the least interested, which amazed everyone, for Gaius Prospero had always been noted for his appreciation of a beautiful woman.
The Twilight Lord Page 41