“Hail, farmer!” the quartermaster called as the couple passed. The man knew Stratetix by name, but farmer was his friendly term for all the villagers of Edgeton, whether they tilled the soil or not. Stratetix returned the favor by calling the quartermaster soldier, though his slim build suggested he might not fare too well in an actual fight.
“Cloth to sell today,” Helena said, pointing to Stratetix’s bundle. “There must be some men who could use new blankets.”
“Aye. The boys will be happy to see you. Set up on the bench outside the barracks and you’ll be sold out in an hour.”
True to the quartermaster’s prediction, Stratetix and Helena had no problem disposing of the cloth in measured lengths. The soldiers crowded around, eager to purchase something better than the standard-issue blankets supplied by the army. The nights atop the Belpberg were cold.
One young corporal with a smooth face wrapped his piece of cloth around his shoulders. “By Astrebril’s beard, that feels good! Wish I’d had it back in the dead of winter.”
“Astrebril might not have wanted you to have it,” Stratetix suggested.
Helena glanced up from her scissors. Her heartbeat quickened. Here we go. Easy now.
The baby-faced corporal looked surprised. “I ain’t done nothing to offend him,” he said.
“Who?” Stratetix asked mildly.
“Astrebril. What have I done to make a god take notice of a man and his blanket?”
Stratetix held up his palms in a soothing gesture. “Nothing, I’m sure. No doubt you keep all the rules required of you.”
“What did you mean then?” demanded another soldier. He had a thin mustache on his upper lip, and his expression was sour. “Why wouldn’t Astrebril want him to have a blanket?”
“Oh, you know . . . ” Stratetix smiled and waved his hand around. “Rules, rules, rules. That’s how it is with the gods. Always the rules.”
“For our own good,” said Mustache-Lip.
“Or the priests’ pockets,” a third man chimed in. He scoffed as he spoke.
“The temple coffers certainly are overflowing these days,” Stratetix observed.
“How do you know?”
“They have to be, with all the taxes we’re paying. The gods are said to dwell in golden halls, but they sure seem to like the steel coins of us men.”
“That’s for sure,” said the third man. “And you’re right about the rules. I’m sick of it all.”
The soldier with the thin mustache spun toward his comrade. “Sick of it all? You better watch what you say or the fire of heaven will get you.”
“And that’s another thing! What kind of god smashes the homes of harmless peasants?”
“A cruel one,” Helena put in. She couldn’t help herself.
All three soldiers turned and looked at her.
Helena offered an innocent smile, trying to charm the lads with sweetness. “What did I say?”
“You said Astrebril is cruel,” Mustache-Lip accused.
“If a man did such things, we’d call it cruel, wouldn’t we?”
“Astrebril is not a man! He can do whatever he wants!”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
Stratetix laid his hand on his wife’s arm. “Look, men, we’re not here to offend anyone. It’s obvious things are different now than in the old days. We’re just making an observation about facts anyone can see.”
“I agree with this guy,” said the smooth-cheeked corporal to his friends. “The laws of Chiveis are piling on too thick. I didn’t become a third-generation soldier to enforce a bunch of religious rules. My old man says it’s ridiculous. We’re supposed to be a free kingdom, but life under Astrebril is turning into . . . ”
He faltered, unsure he wanted to go further. Mustache-Lip gave him the evil eye. “Go on,” he egged. “What were you going to say?”
Tyranny, Helena thought.
“Tyranny,” Stratetix said.
Helena sucked in her breath.
Everyone turned to look at Stratetix, but he didn’t back down. “Admit it. He’s a god of tyranny. There, I said it.”
“It’s true,” agreed the third man. “The heavy taxes. The religious laws. The bowing and scraping before the priests. Chiveis didn’t used to be like that.”
“No, it didn’t.” Helena paused, then decided to follow her husband’s lead. “In the days of Armand things were different. Back then Chiveis stood for something noble and good.”
The man with the mustache jabbed his finger toward her. “What does a farmer’s wench know about war heroes?”
“More than you do,” Helena shot back.
The reply infuriated the cocky guardsman. “Don’t you lecture me about the old days, lady! I know what Armand would think. He would support the current regime.”
Helena tried to calm her emotions, but they were running hot. “No, he wouldn’t!” she insisted.
“You shut up! I’m a soldier of the Fifth Regiment. Armand of Edgeton was the commander of my unit!”
Rising from her seat, Helena met the guardsman’s gaze. “Armand of Edgeton was my father,” she declared, “and I say he would never have sided with cruelty and oppression.”
The other soldiers’ eyes widened at this announcement, but Mustache-Lip didn’t want to lose face. He waved his finger under Helena’s nose. “Armand would not have blasphemed Astrebril!”
Helena swatted the man’s hand away. “Armand would have served Deu!”
An awkward silence descended on the group. Helena felt her face redden. The guardsmen stared at her with slack-jawed expressions. Several other men standing around the barracks craned their necks to see what was going on. Some of them were whispering.
Stratetix stood up and defused the situation. “Gentlemen, it seems our business here is concluded.” He gathered his things and nodded politely before escorting Helena away. She turned her back and did not speak as they left the regimental headquarters.
Back at the dock on the Farm River, Stratetix and Helena waited for the ferryboat to arrive. Neither of them felt like talking; they needed time to process what had just occurred.
Someone coughed nearby. Helena turned. An old man gazed over the water, his eyes bloodshot, his face unnaturally pale. Though he looked as if he was once physically fit, the wasting disease now had a grip on him. His short haircut and scarred cheek suggested a military background.
The man noticed Helena looking at him. “I knew your father,” he said.
Helena glanced around. No one else was at the waterfront, so she stepped closer. Stratetix followed.
“You served in the Fifth?” Helena asked.
“I was your father’s camp doctor.” The man touched his cheek. “Got this scar at the Battle of Toon.”
“That means you were there when he died.”
The old-timer nodded. “Yeah, and I know some secrets about that.” Before he could speak further, he broke into a violent coughing fit that seemed it would never end. At last the hacking ceased, and the man composed himself. “Curse this consumption,” he muttered, dabbing his bloody lips with a handkerchief. “But old men can’t live forever, right? And they shouldn’t keep secrets all the way to the grave.”
“Will you tell us your secrets?”
“I will, but I’ll have to speak of some things you may not wish to recall.” The army physician glanced first at Helena, then at her husband.
“You can speak freely,” Stratetix said. “My wife and I have no secrets between us.”
“Alright then. My story begins with a young man named Hanson. Cocky young fella, but what a warrior! He could beat any man in the Guard in hand-to-hand combat. Everyone in the Second Regiment adored him.”
Stratetix shifted his feet. Helena nodded without speaking.
“As you know, he started courtin’ you.” The old-timer looked at Helena. “You must’ve been what—eighteen?”
“Seventeen.”
“Right. Too young, whatever it was. But this guy
Hanson thought he could win the heart of the Warlord’s daughter.”
“He didn’t,” Helena said flatly.
“We all knew that. But when your father punished him so severely, the men of the Second took it hard. They had pinned their hopes on Hanson. There were public complaints, even some riots. But truth be told, things were much worse than that.”
“How so?”
The old-timer glanced around the dock, then beckoned the couple closer. “Nobody knows this, but there was an outright rebellion. I’m talking about sedition—a planned coup. Hanson had connections to an aristocrat with royal blood that he wanted to install on the throne.”
“By overthrowing King Piair?” Stratetix’s face was incredulous.
“No, by killing him. The outsiders’ invasion at the Battle of Toon wasn’t a complete coincidence. The top brass in the Second Regiment set it up. They let the enemy get close to the king, then drew back.”
“That’s despicable!” Helena exclaimed.
The old-timer coughed up a wad of bloody mucus and spat it into the river. “I know. Only the heroism of your father kept the king alive. That sword of his saved Chiveis. But then the mighty Armand took an arrow. Some say it came from our own ranks.”
Helena closed her eyes and covered her mouth, shaking her head at such a senseless waste of a great man’s life. “What happened next?” she whispered.
“Your father died, and the conspirators were tried before a secret tribunal. Every one of them was executed for treason at the king’s command.”
“How do you know all this?”
“I testified at the trial. Then the whole thing was hushed up. I was sworn to absolute silence on pain of death.” The old-timer smiled ruefully. “But why should I fear death now?”
In the distance the ferryboat came into view. The old-timer began to edge away.
“Wait!” Helena said. “Why did you tell us these things?”
Unexpectedly the grizzled army veteran hurried back and knelt before Helena on the dock. “For the memory of Armand, my lady,” he murmured with his head bowed. “The men of the Fifth love your father. And someday they’ll find their courage again.”
Teo’s back hurt like hell. The god of the fiery underworld had reached up and branded him with a grievous wound. The only thing worse than the knife-edged pain between his shoulder blades was knowing that Ana suffered too. He rode into the dark night with the woman he loved clinging to him from behind. She didn’t speak, though sometimes she moaned softly as the horse plodded across the barren mountain slopes. Teo regretted that he hadn’t been able to prevent Ana’s burn.
But it was shelter, not pain relief, that concerned Teo most at the moment. Away from the volcanic lava, the warmth had been replaced by the high-elevation chill of a spring night. This was no place to be caught in the open, sweat-soaked and without a cloak. He and Ana had been riding for an hour to establish some distance from their enemies, but now she was reaching her limits, and Teo could feel exhaustion sapping his strength as well.
The tired horse meandered off the mountain toward lower ground. Teo let the animal have its head, and it soon found its way to water. The terrain dropped into a vale carved by a tumbling stream. After following a game trail down to the water’s edge, Teo dismounted, then helped Ana from the saddle.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“It hurts.”
“Let me look at it.”
Teo made Ana sit on the ground beside the stream. Striking a match from the saddlebag, he inspected the wound on her back. She flinched as his fingers gently pulled back the seared fabric of her dress. The actual burn was the size of a large coin, though the skin all around it was red and inflamed. Most of the lava had dripped off the Clan Boss’s staff while he walked, so the injury wasn’t much wider than the staff’s tip. Yet the superheated rock had made a deep burn where it contacted Ana’s flesh. Teo winced as he looked at it. He knew from his own wound how much pain she was in.
“I don’t know if I can go any farther,” Ana said.
“We have to find someplace to get out of the elements and make a fire.”
She nodded wearily. “Okay. Let me just get a drink first. I’m so thirsty.”
Ana started to move toward the stream, but Teo stopped her. “Stay still. I’ll get it for you.” He turned and scooped up the ice-cold water. Ana bent her head to sip from his cupped hands. After she had enough to drink, he used a piece of wet moss to cool her burn. It seemed to soothe her. Teo helped her lay back in the grass, then stood up.
“You rest here while I look for a place to camp,” he said. “The vale narrows into a canyon ahead. There might be a cave or something.”
“Oh, Teo, don’t leave me alone.”
“I don’t want to, but we need shelter. Just relax for a little bit. I’ll come right back.”
“No . . . please . . . I’m scared.”
Teo was torn. Ana was in no shape to go exploring, yet they had to find refuge immediately. He scanned the area, hoping to spot a nook or overhang that would provide a dry place to make a fire. Nothing presented itself.
Kneeling next to Ana, he took her hand and bent to kiss her forehead. “I’ll only be gone a moment. Deu will watch over you.”
Ana relented with a nod. “I know,” she acknowledged, then clutched Teo’s sleeve. “But even so, hurry back.”
Teo stood up. A breeze had begun to waft down the vale. He glanced at the sky. Clouds were rolling in, scudding across the moon. It was going to be a cold, rainy night. “Just what we need,” Teo muttered.
That was when the dogs started barking—not little yappers, but big creatures with deep-throated barks. Ana’s head swung around. “Oh! Are those wolves?”
“No, wolves don’t bark like that. They sound more like some kind of mastiff.”
“Way out here in the wilderness?”
Teo drew his sword. “Apparently we’re not alone. Someone lives nearby with guard dogs. I’m going to check it out.”
“Be careful, Teo.”
He nodded and moved downstream. Moonlight gleamed on the water. The walls of the vale steepened on either side. As Teo caught the sound of the barking dogs, he realized he had gone past them. Somehow he had missed the place they were guarding. Doubling back, he peered through the dense vegetation but couldn’t see any sign of human habitation.
A sharp female voice startled him. “Who are you and what do you want? Speak quickly, or I’ll let Scylla and Charybdis do the talking!” The rumble in the dogs’ throats added an ominous punctuation to the woman’s words.
“I mean no harm,” Teo said. “I seek shelter.”
The woman stepped from the shadows, holding her two massive dogs on chains. Though the light was dim, Teo could see she was a tall, willowy woman whose dark hair draped over her shoulders in thick ringlets. She appeared to be young, perhaps around Ana’s age. Her black dogs were powerfully muscled, with cropped ears and tails. “These are Cane Corsos,” the woman said, “and they don’t like strangers who approach by night.”
“I’m sorry to give you a scare.” Teo sheathed his sword. “I’m wounded and need a place to stay.”
“You look fine. What’s wrong?”
“A deep burn to my back. I’m in a lot of pain, and so is”—Teo hesitated, then decided to take a risk—“the woman I’m with. Can you help us?”
The mention of a female companion changed the dynamic. “Is it just the two of you?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Jané.” The woman indicated a faint trail that appeared to lead nowhere. “My cottage is up there. Bring your friend, and let’s see what can be done.”
Teo hurried back to Ana and helped her into the saddle, then led the horse toward Jané’s home. The cottage was nestled against a cliff in a dense copse of trees. Only by turning onto the trail did it come into view.
“I’m not sure we can trust her,” Teo warned as they approached.
“We can,” Ana replied, pointing to
a row of herbs drying on a string. “Those are the plants of a healer.”
“She’s expecting you, so just knock on the door. I have to see to the horse first.”
After caring for his mount in the stable, Teo returned to the cottage. He found its interior warm and welcoming. A stone hearth bristled with kettles, roasting spits, and cast-iron pots. Two pallets had been laid in front of the fireplace. Ana sat on a low stool, smiling and chatting with Jané. A steaming mug was in her hand.
“Come on in,” Jané said, filling a mug for Teo. “I’ve brewed up a strong tea from poppy pods. You’ll want a little honey with it to cut the bitterness, but it will deaden your pain in no time.”
Jané set aside Ana’s empty mug and took up a position behind her. Frowning, the healer began to investigate her wound. After dabbing a poultice on a bandage she reached for the buttons of Ana’s gown, then caught Teo’s eye.
“Unless she’s your lover, this is the moment when you should look away,” she said.
“Oh, right! Of course.” Teo felt his face redden. He suddenly found the logs in the fireplace altogether fascinating.
“To tell the truth, Teofil is the love of my life,” Ana announced with a hint of mischief in her voice. Teo stole a sideways glance in her direction. Ana’s gown hung loose over her shoulders, though Jané hadn’t taken it all the way down yet. Ana gave Teo a playful stare and pointed her finger at him. “But you should still look away, Captain.”
“I will for now—but not forever,” Teo teased in return. Ana said nothing at first, then her eyes widened and her mouth popped open. Laughing to himself, Teo returned his gaze to the fire and propped his feet on the hearth. She’s going to be okay, he realized. Relief washed over him as he settled into the plush chair.
Once Ana was bandaged, Jané turned her attention to Teo. The horrible-tasting tea had decreased his pain dramatically. Teo held still as the healer’s capable fingers probed his wound. “Yours is even worse,” she remarked. “The Clan?”
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