by Renee Wildes
“Is this the child of the once ways?” the truth-seeker asked in sonorous tones.
“She burned a body in th’ woods,” Caltrik reported.
“She flaunted her womanhood in th’ garb o’ men an’ was caught bearin’ arms,” Gerrold added.
“She attempted to assassinate her rightful ruler, me.” Jalad rubbed his throat.
“You do not allow her to answer?” the truth-seeker asked.
Dara’s heart flared with hope.
“Have her spells corrupt this assembly?” Jalad’s eyes swept the room. While his own men stared back at him, Hengist’s motley survivors stared at the floor.
She wilted. No help from that quarter.
“I commend your protection of your people,” the truth-seeker stated. His lackey scribbled furiously. “What evidence bring you to bear in this case?”
Gerrold motioned another Boar forward. The other man laid a pile of cloth and knives at the truth-seeker’s feet. “Th’ clothin’ an’ weapons she was captured with,” Gerrold testified.
“Are there any who would verify this information?”
“Aye,” a dozen voices, all Boars, chorused.
“This indicates a willful disobedience to the laws of men,” the truth-seeker intoned. “We do not burn disobedient daughters; they are thrashed by their fathers or husbands until they learn more circumspect behavior.”
For a moment Dara wanted to cheer the old fraud on. Then she dared stare into his eyes and was taken aback. They glittered back at her with glee and malice. Something was very wrong. He was just going through the motions. Her punishment was already decided.
“What other evidence would you bring afore me?”
Jalad rubbed his neck. “She attempted to choke me. As your king, my word is above reproach, and my men will testify to the change in my voice.”
A skinny rat of a man crept forward. “I am King Jalad’s field surgeon. I testify the injury sustained by King Jalad was caused by strangulation. The damage may well be permanent.”
Good. Next time I won’t stop until his head nigh rolls off his shoulders. Next time? Whom did she deceive? Her last moments passed afore this very assembly and, barring a miracle, within hours she’d be gone to the Light.
“The death of an assassin and traitor be by hanging until almost dead, then drawn and quartered,” the truth-seeker said. “You petitioned for the burning of a witch-daughter of the once ways. What evidence bring you on this charge?”
Here we go. She wondered how fast the white elven mare could run. Surely Moira was on her way home. Xavier she was less certain of, but the Goddess would not abandon Her children in their hour of need. Dara had to trust She would help the seer in his search for Hengist.
“‘You are but a summer squall and will blow yourselves out soon enough. The earth will endure’. Her very words.”
“Aye,” echoed his men.
Dara stared at the black Boar hanging over the dais. She tired of that well-rehearsed chorus.
“I bound her with iron,” Jalad stated. “See her wrists? What human can be burned by mere metal?”
The truth-seeker stepped down to the main floor. He peered beneath the manacles at Dara’s reddened, blistered skin. He grasped her arm and let go with a squawk. He stumbled backward, tripping over his own black robe. The truth-seeker stared at his hand as if expecting to see redness or blisters of his own, and flexed his fingers. “She burns with the fire.”
Jalad nodded. “She would bespell and enslave us all. She must be destroyed.” The Other’s gloating roiled over the assembly, warping fear and superstition into bloodlust and vengeance. “‘The spirit of life is born in fire, and by fire does the spirit return to Her Light. Light to Light, from this world to the next.’ Thus do the witches believe. Send her forever from this world to where she can do no harm.”
“Aye.” The truth-seeker returned to tower over her. “Dara Kahn Androcles, true-daughter of Sheena Kahn Androcles, thou art hereby condemned as a witch-daughter of the once ways. Thou art sentenced to die by cleansing fire at dawn tomorrow.” His burning eyes swept the hall. “All art ordered to witness the justice of the One Truth. None art excused.”
Dara’s turned her gaze to Hengist’s people. None met her eyes—except Tegan. The Other laughed from Tegan’s young face, twisted in a mask of triumph. Of the innocent girl, there was no sign. But a shell remained. Nay. Oh, nay.
Jalad noticed where her eyes lingered and stepped closer to whisper so only Dara heard him. “My new consort. The mother of my new army.”
Lady, what does he mean by that? He can’t mean it literally. Dara’s mind flitted from one wild thought to the next. He’s subverted an innocent child? she raged. Why did You not help her fight? Protect her? That Dara would die had been a foregone conclusion. In exchange for the life of Hengist’s son, she accepted that. But the harvest of an innocent for evil was the ultimate desecration. Vows worked both ways. Why honor a Goddess who turns Her back on the most helpless? a dark, vengeful part asked. How can Light permit the spread of darkness over Her lands?
Gerrold dragged her back to her cell. After the fresh air and light in the hall, the foul blackness was doubly wretched. He chained her to the floor. She thought she’d be numb to true-iron by now. She was wrong. She gritted her teeth. The stab of pain in her side robbed her of what little breath she’d mustered. She focused past the pain.
Gerrold stared down at her. “Pity. You’da made a finer queen than that child.”
She glared up at him. Then help me.
Without acknowledging her influence, he turned and left. She sagged as the door bolted shut behind him.
“‘The mother of my new army.’” What had Jalad meant by that? He’d subverted Tegan for some purpose other than to be his new queen. But what? She had hours to think about it. If she could get a message to those still loyal to Hengist…
And warn them of what? that dark voice taunted her.
She mentally clamped her hands over her ears. An endless, too-short night stretched out afore her. They’d gather all Riverhead to witness the triumph of the Boars and the One Truth. Feasting. Building her sacrilege of a funeral pyre. Drinking. Piling wood against the pillar to which she’d be chained on the morn. She tried to reach out to Loren, but pain screamed through her mind as she collided with iron’s unbreakable grip.
Tears slid down her cheeks onto the cloth still gagging her. Her power was gone. The Lady had abandoned her. Within hours she’d be as roasted as a pig on a spit, never to know if Hengist and Moira would triumph over Jalad.
***
Loren stared, enraptured. A shining white light surrounded the incandescent Lady with blowing silver hair. “A champion, she asked for.” The voice echoed through his mind. “Life-debt thou swore. Wouldst thou honor thy oath, son of the dawn?”
Loren dropped to his knees. He must be dreaming. “’Til life’s ending, Lady.”
She stretched out a hand. Mist enveloped him like a stifling shroud. “Then watch and see.”
From nowhere, sudden sharp pain struck. Loren doubled over, unable to breathe, and collapsed on the ground. From this curled position he looked up—into a demonic face. Through the vision-mist, Jalad’s cruel features masked another’s. Pure malice emanated from the creature towering over him. A gloating satisfaction at the helplessness of its victim overlaid black lust and a surge of all-too-human arousal at the pain it inflicted. Burning rage roared through Loren. He clutched his aching side and shielded his sensitive eyes from bright torchlight.
Something foul lurked behind those black eyes. Loren recalled Xavier’s and Hani`ena’s comments: “‘Jalad is more than he seems. Something else shares his skin, lives behind his eyes. A cold consciousness without heart. His presence brings hopelessness, utter despair… Abyss. Demon-kind.’”
He studied his own hand, but saw slender, golden fingers with filthy, broken nails instead. Iron shackles bit into delicate skin chafed raw. He felt the searing pain of burning iron, the agony o
f cramped muscles. Cold dampness leeched into him from a moldy stone floor. Scattered pieces of dank straw were fouled with his own waste. His hands and feet were numb beyond his reddened, blistered wrists and ankles. He was overwhelmed with hunger and thirst. The stench barely registered in the haze of despair and exhaustion. Waves of sharp, knifing pain from broken ribs overrode everything. All he could do was breathe. Shallow and slow.
“Pain tells us we’re not dead yet.” Where had that come from? Dara had said it, in the forest when they had first met. He realized he saw through her eyes. He pushed at Jalad’s mind. Naught. No way in.
All at once the vision changed. He stared at the approaching black-robed truth-seeker of the One Truth. The man curled a hand around her blistered wrist and leaped back as if stung. “‘Dara Kahn Androcles, true-daughter of Sheena Kahn Androcles, thou art hereby condemned as a witch-daughter of the once ways. Thou art sentenced to die by cleansing fire at dawn tomorrow.’”
The visions of Dara disappeared. Loren stared at the Lady with horror. Dawn tomorrow.
The Lady stared back at him. “A champion, she asked for. Life-debt, thou swore, thy sword and blood. Wouldst thou honor thy oath, son of the dawn?”
“Were we meant to meet, Lady?”
“Indeed. My daughter’s secrets must be kept safe.”
He nodded. “If You make it possible, I shall go.”
She stretched out Her hand to Hani`ena, laying it against the mare’s white neck. “Speed and strength I grant thee now, to get there in the allotted time. Thou knowest the way.”
Hani`ena stood in full battle gear Loren had never seen afore, glowing with Her Light.
The Lady turned to Loren. “Give Me thy sword.” Willing his ice-cold fingers to the task, Loren pulled Justice from its sheath and presented it to Her. Her hands swept upward to enclose the flat of the blade. “‘Justice’ indeed, thou art well named. My justice shalt thou stand for now, to cleave the darkness of the abyss. Champion, she called for. Champion shalt thou be.” The Lady turned the weapon to grasp its hilt and touched the flat of Justice’s toshi blade to Loren’s shoulders.
Goddess-Power seared away the pain and weariness. He was encased in Light, and armor. He looked down at a glowing toshi breastplate over dragonscale chainmail. Stamped into the breastplate was a handheld torch backlit by a rising sun.
“Strength I grant thee, son of My dawn, to fight the darkness and save thy other half. Arise.”
He sheathed Justice across his back, strapped on the rest of his weapons and stepped over to Hani`ena.
Moira and Trystan never moved. Niadh and Ealga watched.
“Now go with My blessings, champion of My Light. My daughter’s secrets must be kept safe. Do not fail Us.” Then She was gone.
Loren leaped into the saddle. Hani`ena snorted at his unbidden signal and launched herself into the muddy waters. Trees whipped past in the blur of Goddess-Speed as she splashed southwest in the unswerving straightness of a shot arrow, back toward Safehold. They sliced through the mists, a glowing comet in the night. The few mortals out and about made wards of protection as the white mare and her rider streaked by.
Dawn tomorrow… Dawn tomorrow… The words rang out to the rhythm of Hani`ena’s unfaltering stride. Loren heard her hooves hit solid earth. He listened for a change in her cadence, a hitch in her breath that showed her tiring. There was none. She vibrated with power, not weakness. Loren relaxed and settled in for a long ride.
The stars circled in the lightening sky. Streaks of pinks and purples stretched out behind him as Hani`ena galloped into Jakop’s Crossroads. Loren wheeled Hani`ena to a momentary halt in front of Artur Barach’s stables.
Artur was already up and limped out to greet them. His eyes widened at the signs of Goddess-Power, and he dropped to his knees. “Your orders, champion?”
Hani`ena snorted and pawed the ground. Sparks shimmered under her hoof. Still she breathed as if she’d been resting all night.
“We ride for Safehold Keep, to avert a burning,” Loren stated. He glared at the hero of Fortune Fields and drew forth Justice. “Do you aid or hinder?”
Artur straightened. The stable door opened, and Conn-Blacksmith joined him. “We aid, champion.” The smith nodded.
“How many?” Loren asked.
Conn considered the question. “Able to fight? A dozen here. As many from Rainbow Falls, mayhaps half that from White Pines.”
“We go for Dara. Give us a clear path and get away clean after.” Loren’s eyes narrowed. “Get your families out. You had your plan. Use it.”
“Already done. Right after Jalad’s courier delivered his ultimatum, they made haste away.” Rage glittered in Artur’s eyes. “He won’t hesitate t’ strike th’ innocent.”
Conn’s jaw tightened. “It ends here.”
Loren shook his head. “Nay. It does not. Not this day. This day we save Dara and escape. Regroup in the south. Soon this darkness shall fall, to a world united.”
Artur handed him a full pack. “Rations for the trip north.”
Hani`ena wheeled away and raced due west to Rainbow Falls. She did not stop, but slowed down enough for early rising villagers to mark the visitation. “Fear not this darkness,” Loren called. “Flee toward the Light. She has not forsaken you.” He circled the mare southward toward what was left of White Pines, repeating his message in the ruin of that decimated village.
Hani`ena pounded toward the rising sun, for Safehold. Loren reached back for Justice and pointed it straight betwixt Hani`ena’s flattened ears. The evidence of Jalad’s butchery came into view. The stench of death reached him first. Bodies hung from the stone walls. Fly-crusted heads on pikes lined the approach. Loren braced against the echo of treachery. The malicious glee of the conquerors rode a wave of despair from the survivors. Loren sought Dara’s light in the chaos. Hani`ena slowed to a showy trot as she passed betwixt the two rows of pikes.
Jalad sat on his throne on a dais, above the commoners and next to the black-robed truth-seeker. Below them on the grounds of the courtyard a ring of Boars, two deep, encircled Dara’s pyre. Loren smelled the oil drenched, freshly cut hazel wood. The shimmering forms of a dozen fading sprites winked in and out of his sight. They could not escape.
Loren faltered. Jalad dared desecrate… The magnitude of evil shook him. The Other gloated in unholy triumph. Dara’s pain hammered into Loren. The Lady’s vision had not prepared him for her reality. She must have stood upright on sheer willpower alone.
Justice flared with Her Light and rang out its song. Loren pointed it straight at Jalad’s black heart. “Release her and leave this land never to return. Go back to your marches. Leave these people in peace.”
Jalad raised a hand toward him. Hate, fear and despair crashed over Loren. The Lady’s shields held. Justice glowed brighter as it deflected the attack back at the lord of Westmarche. The Other swept a hand toward Dara. The oil soaked wood burst into flames and a dozen sprites screamed as they perished, bound to the end to their trees.
“Loren.” Dara screamed as the flames flared around her. The dark cloud of her terror choked him.
Hani`ena shrieked with the Lady’s wrath and charged straight toward the fire. The nearest guard rushed to stop her and was the first to die under the sweep of Justice and the flailing of Hani`ena’s hooves. The courtyard erupted like a broken hornets’ nest. Men of Riverhead pulled forth hidden weapons and joined the fray.
The mare spun like a whirlwind. Loren clung like a burr to her saddle. A Boar grabbed his leg, but Conn appeared, a long-knife in one hand, his armorer’s hammer in the other. The blacksmith brought the hammer down atop the Boar’s head with a wet crunch. The enemy dropped beneath Hani`ena’s hooves.
Conn jumped back. “Go,” he ordered Loren.
Smoke from the fire stung Loren’s eyes. Hani`ena tried to circle upwind, but the path was blocked by the two aides of the truth-seeker. They raised staves in a cross of defiance. “You shall not pass, defiler of the One Truth. We are prot
ected against your demon goddess.”
Justice swept down. A tonsured head rolled aside its falling body. The other priest gaped, but stood fast, unable to comprehend his own death even as Hani`ena’s front hooves smashed his face.
Flames licked at the mare’s legs. She reared, Goddess-Power not withstanding a horse’s natural fear of fire. The ends of her mane curled and crisped. Loren’s skin blistered in the intense heat. “Courage, wind-sister.” Desperation poured into the call. He saw Dara behind the rising wall of smoke and flame. Her head lolled on her shoulder, eyes closed.
Loren spun Hani`ena toward Jalad. “This is my final warning. Be exiled or be destroyed.”
The Other laughed at him. “You’re too late.”
Loren’s jaw tightened. “Come on, partner. It must be now.” He clamped his legs around Hani`ena. Her muscles bunched as she found her courage and leaped into the heart of the pyre.
Dara sagged, flames eating through the ropes holding her up. From their precarious stance atop the burning wood, Loren leaned out over Hani`ena’s side. It was a gaming move practiced over countless months of training. With perfect balance, his left thigh molded to the side of the saddle, muscles pulled taut against the weight of his body. Justice in his left hand, he encircled Dara’s arm with his free hand and yanked her up.
Hani`ena launched herself onto the far side, into the path of choking smoke. She whirled as Loren righted himself and sheathed Justice. She stopped long enough for Loren to steady Dara, cradling the unconscious woman in his singed arms.
“Flee,” he called. “Flee to safety. Fight another day.”
Jalad’s roar of outrage followed them as Hani`ena bore her burden away. Straight northward. Toward the mountains. Toward freedom. Toward safety.
Chapter Seven
Hani`ena slowed to a walk, then halted, nostrils flared red, sides heaving from two days and nights of an unbroken gallop at Goddess-speed. “Rest. Now.”