Queens of Tristaine

by Cate Culpepper

  “Ah, even better than blackberry apple! We’ll take two.” Jess raised Brenna’s fingers to her lips and kissed them. “You did stunning well on the pass today, lass. There was a time coming anywhere near a drop like that would have frozen your bones.”

  “Yeah, and that time was about six hours ago.” But Brenna smiled, hearing her praise and warmed by it. Jess was right. She had conquered a lot of her fear.

  She remembered another horrific day, years ago, when she had clung to the side of a cliff next to Kyla. Jess’s description nailed it. Her bones had frozen so solid she couldn’t move. Vicar had to all but pry her fingers off the rock to get her going again. That rescue had been Brenna’s introduction to Jess’s wild cousin, and it had taken some time to overcome that withering first impression. She remembered Vicar’s gruff pat on her back today as they left the pass.

  Brenna smiled a welcome at Hakan as she stepped into their camp, marveling again at the big warrior’s ability to move through brush in absolute silence. “How’s Valkyrie’s foot?”

  “Hoof,” Vicar snorted, feeding kindling to the fire.

  “Val’s foot is fleet again, thank you, little sister.” Hakan peered down at Kyla fondly, and spoke softly. “It was a small stone, Jesstin, it won’t lame him.”

  “Good, adanin. Get something to eat and tie a feedbag on Vicar.” Jess rolled her head slowly, and Brenna heard her neck crackle. “The night’s passing fast. I’d best go see what’s keeping our water-bearer.”

  Brenna touched Jess’s arm. “Let me go, Jess. I’d like to splash some of this trail grit off my teeth before I eat anyway.” She got up, stifling an unladylike grunt, and planted a kiss on the top of Jess’s head.

  “I miss ye already,” Jess murmured. Her tired blue eyes looked almost vulnerable. “Be safe.”

  Brenna bent and kissed her again, this time on the mouth, slow and deep. Rich tendrils of pleasure swirled through her. She made herself straighten, feeling color fill her cheeks and hoping a cold splash of water would cool her ardor a bit. Jess’s plaintive look made it harder to leave her, but she wanted a moment alone with Dana.

  She stepped carefully around Kyla and made her way through the brush toward the faint sound of the rippling stream that ran just north of their camp. Brenna found she had energy left to appreciate the beauty of the night. The ebony, star-drenched bowl of sky above her would be a bank of smog-choked clouds in the City. She drank in the flickering glory of Tristaine’s constellation while she could.

  The pine-scented air had cooled Brenna’s cheeks when she found the stream, wide but shallow, running swift and glittering beneath Selene’s gold light. Dana stood in its center, the dark water swirling around her knees. She was gazing back toward the high cliffs they had struggled through that day. It was too dark for Brenna to see her clearly, but every line of Dana’s body was slumped and pensive.

  “Hey.” Brenna didn’t want to startle her, and she didn’t. Dana turned toward her with a kind of calm resignation, as if she’d known her solitude wouldn’t last. “You need any help?”

  “Nah, I’m good.” Dana nodded at the dripping canteens stacked neatly at the river’s edge. “Just wanted to catch us some fresh trout before heading back.”

  “Good idea.” Brenna bit her lip. She had seen Jess plunge her hands into fast-running streams and pull out flapping salmon. She’d seen Dana fall butt-first in the water trying to do the same. No need to draw on her psychic sense to know the young warrior wasn’t up for fishing tonight. Brenna sat down on the mossy bank and watched Dana wade slowly to shore.

  “We’re making good time, huh?” Dana settled cross-legged beside Brenna, shifting to keep from getting her wet. “Even with the pass.”

  “Yeah, we’re doing well.” Brenna waved a mosquito away from her ear. “Better than Jess hoped.”

  “We’ve still got that long stretch from the foothills to the City.” Dana picked a smooth pebble from the earth and skipped it across the stream. “Dang, Brenna, I hate us having to sleep. We need to get this drug back to Sammy.”

  “Samantha’s young and strong.” Brenna rubbed Dana’s forearm. “I worry more about our elders. Shann and our healers will do all they can to keep them with us.”

  She let the quiet spin out between them. Dana would talk to her, usually, if she didn’t push. She probably confided in Brenna more than anyone, other than Kyla, and she couldn’t talk to Kyla about this. Brenna tried to see her face without appearing to stare. Dana’s jaw was clenched, and her eyes were muddy and unhappy.

  “I think I would have followed her over.” Dana kept her gaze on the swift-moving river. “If that rope hadn’t caught.”

  “No, honey, you wouldn’t have.”

  Dana scowled. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because four Amazon sisters who love you very much would have stopped you.” Brenna imagined Jess knocked off the edge of the cliff, and she shuddered. “It must have been terrible for you back there, Dana.”

  “I died inside.” Dana spoke without inflection. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost Kyla, Bren.”

  “I know how that feels.” Brenna hesitated. She couldn’t promise that Kyla, or any of them, would survive this quest, and the thought of losing any of their adanin chilled her heart too. “Maybe we can take today as a reminder, though, that we should tell our friends the truth about important things, while they’re still around.”

  “Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.” Dana skipped another stone across the stream. “Hey, Kyla, I’m crazy in love with—blat!” She pretended to throw up. Brenna laughed, and Dana smiled at her ruefully. “And your stupid girlfriend is still showing me up, I hope you noticed.”

  “Yes, I spoke to her about that.” Brenna turned her head and spat delicately to fend off another whining mosquito. “I’m getting feasted on out here. Care to escort me back to our posh holdings?”

  “I can do that.” Dana sighed and climbed to her feet and gave Brenna a hand up. “Don’t tell Ky I went all mushy on you.”

  “Nope, your mushiness is yours to reveal.” Brenna snagged the straps of three of the canteens and wound her arm through Dana’s. “Come on, or there won’t be any horse cutlets left.”

  “Oh, dang. Vicar’s cooking?”

  *

  Curled in Jess’s arms, Brenna slept hard and deep.

  “We must talk, j’heika.”

  Brenna groaned. Not again. Surely whatever this was, it could wait until morning.

  “Brenna, wake up.”

  The voice, while still respectful, carried a certain command this time.

  Brenna lifted her head, and stood facing Elise. She discovered a new element had been added to this spectral plane—a marble basin stood on a waist-high pedestal between them, full to its oval surface with clear water.

  “If you’re going to sleep this rarely,” the younger woman said politely, “You must find a way to reach me while awake.”

  “Good evening, Elise.” Brenna greeted her just as politely. “Do you have news of home?”

  “Some.” The sparkling veil moved, as if Elise had inclined her head. “The plague progresses, j’heika. More of our sisters fall ill.”

  Brenna discovered her hands could still prickle with anxiety in the spirit world. “How many, Elise? Do you know how my sister is? Her name is Samantha.”

  “I’ll bring you to one who can tell you.” Elise hesitated for a moment, and something in her uncertainty made her seem fully human to Brenna for the first time. Her hands rose slowly, slipped the silver veil off her brown curls, and settled it around her shoulders.

  Human or divine, Elise’s beauty was ethereal. She gazed at Brenna through dark-lashed jade eyes, and her skin held the pale perfection of porcelain. Brenna took in the girl’s exquisite features in one glance and felt her heart constrict with sorrow.

  Tears moved soundlessly down Elise’s face. Her expression was sweetly composed, but there was a depth of grief in her lovely eyes that punched Brenna in the chest. A
n immediate need to offer comfort filled her, and she stepped closer and touched Elise’s hand. The graceful fingers resting on the edge of the marble basin felt warm and real.

  “Little sister,” Brenna said softly. “Tell me why you’re weeping.”

  “I have always wept.” As Elise spoke, a tear fell from her calm face and dropped into the basin of water between them. Ripples spread in gentle circles, joining tears shed for unknown years. “I will always weep, if the path of Amazon Nation continues on its present course.”

  Brenna was at a loss. “Can you tell me any more?”

  “You are our best hope, j’heika.” Elise smiled, a heart-breaking contrast to the falling of the next tear. She gestured to the circular pool between them. “Look closer. Seek counsel from Tristaine’s wisest queen.”

  Brenna peered into the basin’s clear marble depths. The surface of the water shimmered, reflecting both Elise’s visage and her own. As she watched, more ripples spread across the small pool, blending their images and dispersing them. Brenna drew a long breath, feeling her body relax.

  A new face began taking shape in the water, and Brenna strained to see its features. Just as they seemed ready to form, the image drifted apart, and Brenna cursed silently.

  “Breathe deeply and evenly, adanin,” Elise coached her quietly. “She wants to appear. Give her time. Be patient.”

  “You don’t know me very well,” Brenna muttered. But then the face dawned clearly in the water, and it was dear to her. Brenna drank in the kind wisdom in those gray eyes, relief and pleasure sluicing through her.

  “Sweet demon’s bile!” Shann cried and pressed a hand to her breast. “Brenna?”

  They were standing together on either side of the marble basin, Shann in Elise’s place. Brenna took her mother’s hands across the small pool.

  “It’s all right, lady. It’s really me.”

  “How did you do this?” Shann looked down at herself, fascinated. She wore the spun silk robes of her high office.

  “I didn’t. I think Elise did. This must be what she meant by clearing your path.”

  “I bless this Elise for bringing me to you.” Shann’s gaze warmed. “Tell me, how are Jesstin and our adanin?”

  “We’re all safe, Shann. We draw close to the City.” Brenna tried to quell the anxiety gripping her throat. “How is Sammy?”

  “Our Samantha holds her own. I’m with her every moment I can be.”

  “And Tristaine?”

  “Two-score of us have taken ill since you and Jess left, Brenna. We’ve mixed remedies that seem to slow the fury of the fever, but we haven’t stopped it. And we’ve lost two, dear one.”

  “Oh, Shann,” Brenna whispered. “Who?”

  “Aracina, Aria’s blood-grandmother. She was over a hundred years old and her heart was weak, and she slipped away quickly. And this morning, Elsbeth’s baby daughter, Lynne, left us without a cry.”

  “Ah, lady.” Tears filled Brenna’s eyes. “I’m so sorry. I promise you, we’ll return as quickly as we possibly can.”

  “Other winds blow through Tristaine that concern me deeply, daughter.”

  “Tell me.”

  “There is unrest. Only this morning...” Shann paused, and gazed down into the full basin. She lifted her hand, and looked at Brenna questioningly. “Someone is telling me—”

  “Go ahead,” Brenna encouraged her.

  Shann dipped her hand into the water and stirred it gently. As Brenna watched, Shann’s glyph, worn on her wrist, began to pulse with a gold light. Her signets of royalty and healing emerged clearly through the shimmering water.

  Colors and shapes began to flicker again on the turning surface of the pool. Brenna began to recognize forms—the stand of aspens that marked the trail leading to Tristaine’s mesa, and then their village square. She saw their lodges, and a gathering of their sisters, and then—

  Then Brenna was there, standing next to Shann, witnessing the scene as if she had been present at the time. She could smell fresh pine and heard a roiling of angry voices.

  “With all respect, Shanendra.” A wiry Amazon with long gray hair stood with her fists on her hips, scowling at Shann. She was surrounded by half a dozen other women, and most of them looked just as angry—or afraid. “You’re showing signs yourself of this vile plague. How can we be sure you still rule us with a clear head? How can you be sure?”

  “What?” Alarmed, Brenna touched Shann’s arm and watched her hand pass right through it. Shann didn’t turn or respond to her. Brenna might be witnessing this scene, but it was in the past, and she was seeing it as a phantom. Shann was flesh and blood here, and she couldn’t see or hear Brenna. And her cheeks were lightly flushed with fever.

  “I can trace your line back six generations, Bethany.” The queen’s tone was rather dry. “I’ll recite them for you, if you wish. My mind is my own, and I’ll trust my Council to tell me if my judgment falters.”

  “I’m not sure we can share your trust in the Queen’s Council,” Bethany retorted. “Not with the lives of our children at stake.”

  “Shann. Lady.” Another Amazon stepped forward, her hands lifted in appeal. “Forgive Bethany’s passion. As leader of our mothers’ guild, she carries the safety of our little ones close to her heart.”

  “No closer than mine, Ethne.” Shann gestured gently. “Go on, tell me your fears.”

  “Elsbeth’s sweet baby breathed her last at dawn, lady. The youngest of our clan are at greatest peril from this terrible sickness.” Ethne clasped her hands, pleading. “We must get the children out of the village!”

  There was a grim stirring of agreement among the women.

  “And take them where, adanin?” Shann went to Ethne. “What safe haven do you hope to find out there?”

  “Anywhere but here,” another voice called. Brenna saw Martine, another of the mother’s guild, push past Ethne to face Shann.

  “To the City?” Shann met the woman’s glare evenly. “That’s where the only cure for this illness lies, sister.”

  “Of course not the City, lady,” Martine snapped. Brenna had always found her unpleasant, and her fervor was a little frightening now. “There are a dozen small settlements on the other side of the range. One of them will take us in.”

  “And in thanks, you’ll bring them the plague.” Shann shook her head. “The harm is already done here, Martine. All of Tristaine has been exposed. If you enter another village, its people will have even less defense against this sickness than we do. More will die.”

  Brenna was drawn by the effortless leadership that was part of Shann’s natural aura. She wore royal command as comfortably as her own skin. She walked among her Amazons, looking into each face. Several were from the mothers’ guild, Brenna noted, but not all. Strong, loving sisters for the most part, but carried away now with fear for their young.

  “Have courage, adanin. At least here, our children can be strengthened by the remedies we’ve managed to find. And our sisters will return soon, with medicine that can save most of us. Amazons will not sacrifice the lives of innocents in a futile bid for safety.”

  “Shann—” Martine began.

  “No, Martine.” Shann turned and faced her. “You’ve heard my decision. No Amazon leaves this mesa.”

  “And if we feel we must?” Bethany had regained her composure, but her respect was tempered by anger.

  “If you try to leave Tristaine, you will be stopped.” Shann held Bethany’s hard stare until the older woman dropped her eyes.

  The mountain village and all its Amazons vanished, dwindling from reality to darkness in a heartbeat.

  *

  Brenna started awake, her back chilled by a lonely draft. She sat up quickly, wincing, hoping against hope that Shann’s comforting presence had somehow followed her onto the physical plane.

  It wasn’t yet dawn, and birdsong rang clear and sweet. Vicar sat cross-legged across the fire, feeding it twigs and keeping watch over their camp. She grunted a morning greeting at
Brenna, her expression sour.

  Brenna turned and confirmed what she’d known in deepest sleep—Jess had left their shared blankets. She raised an eyebrow questioningly at Vicar, who pointed vaguely over her left shoulder. Brenna nodded and got to her feet in slow, stiff stages. Fit or not, between clinging to Hippo’s back and cuddling up on the ground night after night, she felt she’d aged decades.

  She stepped quietly around the still forms still huddled around the fire. Every head but Dana’s was covered with blankets or arms or packs, or anything that might block out her trumpeting snore. The snoring explained Vicar’s morose glare and made Brenna smile.

  Wrapping a shawl around her shoulders, she went in the direction Vic pointed to, remembering the small meadow near this grove of trees. She walked through the high grass, vestiges of her vision still drifting through her mind. The pre-dawn light made tracking Jess’s steps in the fresh dew easy enough, but Brenna would have been able to find her now even in full darkness. At times she was simply drawn toward Jess, wherever she was, following some silent beacon that ended in her lover’s arms.

  She saw Jess now. She was dressed in her lightest breastwrap and leggings, performing a complex series of dance-like drills in the center of the meadow. Brenna rested against a young aspen and enjoyed the sight, knowing Jess needed privacy for this meditation.

  Her limbs gleamed with a light sweat—she must be nearing the end of a long session. One leg whipped in a fast, deadly arc, cutting through the pasture grass, and then Jess balanced and slowed, her movements becoming sinuous, coiled power in the muscle of her back.

  Brenna knew Jess prayed to her Mothers in words, but this controlled, lethal dance was her best means of seeking the wisdom of her spirit guides. Her arms wove in a sudden flashing series of blows, and then her body straightened again and grew still. Brenna watched Jess’s shoulders lift in a deep, cleansing breath, and then they settled into a more relaxed posture than she’d seen in days.