by Renee Wildes
The elven swords swarmed forward to cover their brothers while the nirrti archers dropped back. As the next ba-pef approached, each archer took his single shot and then retreated to the back of the line to draw his sword. Dara kept up the flames’ attack. Killing her own people was no longer a problem. Lorelei was right, the ba-pef were no longer human. If there was a trapped soul inside, then Dara indeed did him a favor.
The main elven infantry led the way westward to Safehold Keep, hacking and slashing their way through the decimated Boar rievers. But elves were lost, as well, struck down too suddenly to trance-heal. The weight of immortality sacrificed for their sakes was almost too much to bear. The human Dara flinched at each death, aching to turn aside, heal them, but the torque held sway. To stay the course, pressing Jalad on three sides, trapping him within the keep itself.
Only when he was gone forever would the horror end. She ached to put an end to it.
The forest was an inferno behind them from the pillar and the burning corpses of the ba-pef. Lorelei was right, the flames were impossible to control. Dara prayed the forest creatures made it underground or to the swamps. A flutter of sylph-breeze fluttered in her ear. “The clans crossed the river. The demon-hounds are no more.”
Hardly daring to hope, Dara sense-cast in that general direction. Trystan stalked at the head of the remains of his war band, looking savagely put out. Ealga wheeled overhead. Niadh trotted along behind him but favored his left forepaw. Trystan was covered in blood, darkening yellow ichor and bits of flesh—some of it his own. His axe was so coated no metal could be seen. His spear was gone. Barely three dozen were left from the original two hundred; four of the survivors were women, exhausted and filthy. So few. So few would return to their mountains, heroes covered in glory, celebrated in song and story. She took a close look at the women, and shuddered with foreboding, understanding Trystan’s ire only too well.
One of the women was a gore-splattered Moira, leaning heavily on a broken spear. Was she mad, risking herself and her son? If she survived, Hengist would have her head—if Trystan didn’t beat him to it. Dracken rue, she’d strangle Moira herself!
Lord and Lady, she was even cursing in elvish!
The ground behind them, on the far side of the river to the treeline where Dara’s home had once stood, was littered with the bodies of clan, Boars and hounds.
Where were Cianan and Kikeona?
She sense-cast south. Hengist rode an elven war mare. He must have lost his charger and she, her rider. Dara was grateful the unknown mare had consented to bear the human. She was doubly grateful he couldn’t see his wife. Lord Elio was still astride, but the grey lines around his mouth indicated an injury somewhere deep inside. She located Xavier, Conn and Artur marching along behind the elven cavalry with the remains of Sezeny’s foot-troops. Conn’s arm was in an improvised sling; Artur staggered but from weariness and his earlier injury, not from any recent wound. Xavier looked faded, dimmed, like a neglected campfire. There were no knights remaining. Boars and more rievers littered the ground behind them.
She dismounted, and leaned against Gloreriell’s trembling shoulder for support. Bile rose, and tears burned her eyes. She panted and caught herself, took a deep breath and tried to slow her racing pulse. The lingering malice and feeling of spent violence loomed across the blood-soaked ground like heavy fog, choking the rising hope. She realized how outnumbered they had been. If not for the elves, it would have been an outright slaughter. They’d have been doomed to fall afore the darkness. Loren and his family, his people, risked all—because it was right. Their unflinching unselfishness and willing sacrifice weakened her knees. Her eyes met Loren’s, and her heart threatened to burst.
She bit her lip until she tasted blood and struggled to shake herself back to sense. The head of the serpent still awaited them. She had destroyed a dozen ba-pef. She didn’t know if any more had been held in reserve, or how many hounds remained. A snort behind her brought her back to the here-and-now. Hani`ena paced up aside them. Loren had sheathed Justice for now. He dismounted and gave Dara a quick visual once-over. “You are all right,” he said. She felt his relief.
She threw herself into his arms, her heart too full for words, her throat too tight to get them out anyway. He was whole. He was safe. Lady, she loved him. She’d go to her grave loving him.
Leave it to her to realize she loved someone—in the middle of a battle.
Hani`ena nuzzled her shoulder. “Good job, vertenya,” the mare told her.
Lorelei moved to Hani`ena’s side. Pahn followed, supporting a grey-faced Gwendolyn. “Told thee I was a weak link.” The earth mage’s smile wobbled.
Dara stepped away from Loren and tried to draw power from the pillar for the fading mage, but the sylphs resisted aiding an opposing elemental sorceress. Furious, outraged, Dara speared a burst of healing energy into the elven woman and bound them together, feeding Gwendolyn from herself and drawing in turn from the pillar. What twisted elemental logic found that acceptable she did not know, as long as it worked.
Cianan found them thus scant moments later, as Dara was releasing a rejuvenated Gwendolyn back into Pahn’s care.
“Aletha awaits the mages,” Loren told Dara. His eyes gleamed at her. “You come with Cianan and me to find the girl.”
Dara turned to her salamander-led power source. “Go find Anika. Follow her as you would me.”
“Call and we will come,” First said. The pillar of fire moved away with Pahn and Gwendolyn.
“Do you think you can find that back door into the prison again?” Cianan asked once the three of them stood alone in the dark.
Horror crawled over Dara’s skin and she shuddered. Loren gripped her arm, forcing her to meet his eyes. “I would not ask, save it is the one route they shall never expect. Jalad shall be occupied with Aletha, Everett and the other mages. This is our one chance to find the girl if you wish to save her.”
Dara nodded and struggled to breathe. If Jalad was destroyed, all he made died with him. If Tegan was not freed first, her doom was sealed. Dara was not about to give up on a fourteen-year-old girl without even trying. If that meant returning to that charnel pit where the ba-pef were created, then so be it. Guardian, vertenya, she reminded herself.
“Good girl,” Loren approved. “Which way?”
She stared at him. “He’ll sense our coming.”
“Nay, he shall not. Lady, shield Thy Light within us. Hide us from this darkness until it be too late for them to elude Thy justice.”
A curious wrenching closed her eyes. When she opened them, Dara stared at two filthy northern rievers in torn and bloodied Boar livery standing afore her. Her jaw dropped. She sense-cast at them and gasped. ’Twas like no illusion she had ever seen. The seeming was complete, to all her senses. “L-Loren? Cianan?”
Loren nodded. “We still have all our powers. You cannot tell?”
She blinked and shook her head. “Not at all. It’s amazing.”
Cianan looked at his best friend. “I take it from our appearance if we get caught the plan is to act like we captured her?” He indicated Dara.
“Now wait just a bloody minute.” The voices hissed.
“Easy, vertenya. It never hurts to have a back-up plan.”
“He is right,” Loren said. “If someone comes, just put your hands behind your back. You are the most wanted woman here; they shall want to bring you afore Jalad himself. As he is otherwise occupied, it stands to reason we shall go afore this Tegan.”
The voices snarled again, but Dara saw the sense. She didn’t like it, but she understood it. She led the way toward the keep. “The prison’s in the northwest corner, but the abbess came through some sort of secret tunnel. It has to be swamp-side; this is the direction needs watching the least. Most of the defenses are on the opposite side of the keep, facing westward toward Westmarche.” Her mouth twisted. “Hengist wasn’t planning on betrayal or he never would have left Moira. What defense is there against that?”
; Loren shook his head. “None. There is justice afterward.”
“The traitor’s dead. What justice is there for him now?”
“Her justice. He still has to answer to Her.”
They reached the stone walls. As Dara had predicted, the three-front attack occupied the defenses. No one watched the southeast corner. Dara scanned the stonework, looking for a crack in the mortar signaling an entrance. “Got it,” she whispered, hooking her fingers into a minute crack and following it along until she hit a hidden catch.
With a groan, the door ground open just enough for her to squeeze through. The two warriors had a tougher time. Cianan got wedged, forcing Dara to pull on his arm and Loren to push. After exhaling all of his breath, Cianan popped through after a hard shove from Loren.
“Dracken rue,” the ranger gasped. “Remind me when we get home to cut back on the candied layas petals.”
“I am surprised Kikeona has not mentioned it already.” Loren squirmed through behind them and pulled the door shut to a mere crack.
Dara stared down the dark passageway, letting her eyes adjust as she sense-cast forward. The tunnel was dry and empty, no signs of life. She followed the wall straight ahead for mayhaps a hundred paces afore the tunnel angled to the left and began its descent into hell. The two elven warriors followed, silent as cats in her wake. It got colder and damper the farther they went.
The first hints they were getting close came from their noses, the smell of old blood, rotting flesh and offal. She shuddered, her muscles cramping with remembered agony. To Dara’s senses, even the rats had fled this carnage hall. The brand pulsed on her shoulder. She smelled burning flesh, heard the sizzle of the iron. She closed her eyes and whimpered.
A warm hand rested on her shoulder, squeezed gently. Loren. Calm. Solid. Reassuring. She was not alone in the dark. She was not helpless.
Never again, she vowed. It ends here. Now.
Something inhuman screamed in the darkness. Dara held up a hand. Her companions froze as she drew a long-knife. Around the next bend the tunnel opened up into the chambers Jalad had reactivated.
A sense of utter malice emanated from just beyond. Dara recognized the unholy aura as Tegan herself. The shard was too intent on its work—and too sure of its own invincibility—to pay attention to anything else. The poor lost soul on the rack screamed again as the wheels pulled the chains tighter. Joints popped with an audible crunch. Its mind was already gone to the darkness, but the transformation of its body was just in the beginning stages.
To Dara’s relief, Tegan was alone. There was no one else underground at all; not other ba-pef, not hellhound nor Boar. That should simplify matters. She took a deep breath and braced against the screams, the despair.
Loren caressed her shoulder. She was not alone. If he had his way, she would never be alone again. That steadied her. She stepped around the corner and into the torchlight. “Now, little friendsss.”
As Cianan and Loren followed her into the room, the circle of torches flared into a ring of salamander fire, enclosing everyone within the flaming circle. Power poured through Dara as she faced the Other. “I bind thee to this circle, fiend.”
Tegan sneered at her. “You are too late to save this one, mortal witch,” it told her in that hollow, bottom-of-the-well voice.
Loren drew Justice forth, and it shone brighter than the sun with the Goddess’ Light. “I call you to answer to the Lady’s justice.”
Tegan shielded her eyes. “Your Goddess is dead in this land.”
“Nay, She is not.” Dara waved a hand to the not-quite-ba-pef. “Loren, set him free.”
“Light to Light, from this world to the next.” Justice swept down, severing the head from the body. The touch of the consecrated toshi blade broke the dark ties, sending the shard snapping back into Tegan’s body and freeing the poor man’s soul from his now-dead body. “To my Light,” Loren commanded, and the wisp of soul vanished into Justice afore the demon reacted.
The power of Light also broke the seeming, revealing the two warriors for what they truly were.
“You didn’t think we’d break our own circle, did you?” Dara asked Tegan.
“You cannot win,” Tegan said. “I am free to take those who choose to come. Your Goddess cannot stop that. These people ceded this land to me with their own greed and treachery. Begone.”
“I think not,” Loren stated. “This is not your land. The rulers of this land still side with the Light.”
“The child you hold is also of the Light,” Dara said.
“She chose darkness,” Tegan growled.
“You lie. She was coerced,” Dara snarled. “You killed her parents and her betrothed afore her eyes, branded the women as slaves, let her see the worst that could happen to her, and then seduced her with false kindness and empty promises. You didn’t bind her with blood.” The torque crackled with living draconian fire, the torch circle flared brighter. “I know blood magic, it is a part of me. There is no scent of blood on this one. It was not a true choosing, nor binding, fiend.”
“She did not choose darkness; therefore, she can still choose to return to the Light if that be her wish,” Loren said.
“She cannot hear you,” the Other retorted.
“Aye, she can.” Loren knelt afore Tegan, careful to keep Justice betwixt them and pointed at the Other. “Daughter of the Light, thy name be Tegan te Lacey. Remember. Hear my voice, my words. You know them to be true. You are not part of this curtain of darkness. Remember who you are.”
The Other cowered raging behind the sword of Light, helpless to break the circle. Within its shroud, something stirred. Faint, weak, a mere glimmer of mortal life.
“Tegan?” Dara held out her hands. Black fire danced across her fingertips. “You know my voice. You’ve seen my face. Remember?”
The Other howled and moved to dodge past Loren, but Justice would not give way. The demon was forced to yield to the Light, snarling with impotent rage.
“See?” Dara encouraged. “Darkness can’t break past the Light. Light is stronger than darkness, Tegan. I know you hear me. Come back, Tegan. Come back to us.”
Dara sensed Tegan’s presence. Guilt, shame, unworthiness hit Dara in uneven waves. Tegan knew her mistake—she thought it unforgivable.
“You are beyond redemption,” the Other roared. “You turned your back on the Light, you chose your path to power. They lie. There is no going back. Your soul is damned forever.”
“Do not listen to this creature from the abyss,” Loren said. “Listen to my voice. I am Her champion, and I stand for Her Light. I cannot lie to you. She wants you to come home, Tegan te Lacey, daughter of Light. You can choose your own fate. The things this creature has done in your body were not done by you. Renounce this darkness. Reach for the Light.”
The Other lashed out at Dara, but the torque flared, demon-fire clashed against a wall of dragon-fire and bounced back into the power circle held by the salamanders.
“You can’t harm usss, fiend,” Dara hissed. “But we can dessstroy you. Leave now while you ssstill can.”
“Reach, girl,” Loren called.
Of their own volition, Tegan’s hands reached out to grasp Justice. At the touch of Light, the Other screamed, echoed by Tegan’s voice as the girl drove herself fully onto the toshi blade, which speared through her body. The Light exploded from her in every direction until the circle was flooded with Goddess-Power. The Other roared, and with a snap was gone, returned to Jalad.
As it left, Tegan returned behind her own eyes, and fresh blood poured from the wound.
“Dara, now,” Loren yelled.
Dara reached for First, grabbed the power he threw at her, and plunged herself into Tegan’s body. Anchored by the torque, she used Light and fire to seal off the bleeding, close the flesh. She poured life back into Tegan until the girl glowed with it.
Tegan burst into tears as Dara withdrew. Both girls were covered with blood. “Ssh, it’s all right,” Dara soothed. “It’s over now. Y
ou’re safe.”
“I’ve done such terrible things…”
“Nay,” Loren said. “It was not you. The Lady welcomes Her daughter back. Be at peace.” He kissed her forehead.
“Cianan?” Dara turned to the dark-haired ranger, who up until now had been a silent spectator to the unfolding drama.
He knelt aside them. “Aye, vertenya?”
“Take Tegan out of here. Keep her safe.”
He nodded. “Can you walk, child?”
Tegan nodded, and he helped her to her feet. Cianan guided her back out the tunnel.
“Light to Light, from this world to the next,” Loren incanted, holding Justice aloft. “I release you from this vessel. Go. Return to the Light.”
The spirit of the man Justice had shielded winged its way upward.
Loren turned to Dara. “Let us end this.”
Dara took a deep breath. “I’m ready. I want my home back. Let’s go.”
Chapter Fifteen
Was she insane or suicidal? Dara contemplated the question as she eyed the ascending staircase in the dark. Confronting head-on the same demon that had nearly destroyed her in their last encounter? What match was dragon-fire compared to demon-fire?
Loren gripped her arm, hard enough to pull her from her dark musings. His gaze searched hers. “Remember, he takes what is given. He cannot force. Your soul is safe, I swear it.”
Gratifying as that was, it wasn’t her soul that concerned her at the moment. Cowardly though it was to admit, she feared more of the physical pain, as well. Pain was just pain, but she had new appreciation for just how bad it could get, and she had a lifelong susceptibility to iron. Pahn’s treatment was no permanent cure.
“We art with thee. He shalt not get thee thisss time.”
Dara and Loren crept up the stairs. All able-bodied warriors were out on the field, and all the other…noncombatants…seemed to be hiding. Dara hoped so—fewer innocent casualties that way. In a couple of candle marks, they’d all either be freed, or dead.