Clarysa held a hand to her mouth in an effort to suppress her rising nausea. “How barbaric!”
“Well, at least he threw in the patch for free!” Patrulha threw back her head and laughed.
The sound was unnerving, more like the squawk of a desperate vulture. “Didn’t he give you something for the pain? It must have been horrible.”
Patrulha’s laughter quickly faded. She regarded Clarysa solemnly, speaking in a low voice. “You have no idea.”
Clarysa regarded the gleaming weapon before her with a renewed respect.
They sat together for a while, heads bent so closely they almost touched, studying the weapon together. Clarysa wondered if she and Patrulha could overcome their differences enough to become friends. She hoped so.
Eventually, Patrulha brought the moment of intimacy to an end. “Go back to sleep, Clarysa. Eight more hours of riding lie ahead of us and we rise before dawn.”
But Clarysa stayed rooted to her seat. Another question nagged her, one swaddled in sympathy for the lonely woman next to her. She probably risked offending the Captain, but she was a close friend of Stellan’s. Clarysa wanted to understand her better.
“Patrulha, you said you wanted two things from losing your eye. One was the sword, the other ‘undying devotion.’”
Patrulha frowned. “What of it?”
Clarysa’s countenance softened. “One would have to be daft not to guess how you feel about Stellan.”
Patrulha stared into the fire, silent.
“Haven’t you told him?” asked Clarysa.
Patrulha stood. “That was a long time ago. Besides, he’s the happiest I’ve ever known him to be. You two should be together.”
“But, Patrulha–”
The Captain glared down at her. “I’m here to rescue him because he deserves a better life, and obviously that means one with you. I’ve accepted the inevitable. Now I’m asking you to do the same.”
“I… As you wish.” Before Clarysa could say another word, Patrulha turned and stalked away into the night.
Chapter 34
Clarysa rose with the others in the dark hours of the morning. They consumed a cold, meager meal in near silence. Afterward, they packed the saddlebags and resumed their trek. Clarysa held back, taking up the rear. Her position gave her the freedom to observe Patrulha, who rode point.
Clarysa reflected upon the information she had candidly given up the night before. Logic didn’t seem to apply to her–but perhaps that was the mystery of Patrulha. Clarysa wasn’t so sure the warrior woman no longer harbored certain feelings for Stellan. It would certainly explain her icy attitude toward Clarysa all this time. A twinge of guilt made her sigh. Patrulha deserves happiness, too. Unfortunately, she had no idea what would give her satisfaction.
The sun climbed higher in the sky as they traveled. Warm air carried aloft scents of honeysuckle and pine. Had Stellan lumbered through here in his bestial form? Clarysa searched about her as they continued, desperate for a glimpse of him. But only sprinting rabbits and butterflies appeared.
As the day edged past the noon hour, Patrulha held up a silent hand.
Everyone halted. She dropped from her mount and crouched low to the ground. She appeared to be searching for something.
“What are you looking for?” Clarysa asked.
“Patience, Princess,” Hunter murmured.
Whatever Patrulha was searching for, she found it. She motioned for everyone to continue down the serpentine path before them. The captain pulled Hunter aside for a few private words, words Clarysa could not determine despite her best efforts. Why wouldn’t these people tell her anything?
The road descended into a shallow valley, one with a sprawling stone-and-mortar building in its belly. It was buttressed by fenced lots of various plants and greenery. Dollops of every color exploded from fragrant blooms. Clarysa stared about her in wonder as they rode along a neatly lined path. Upon reaching a wooden gate, everyone dismounted. Clarysa followed their lead, securing her horse to a nearby wooden rail.
An intricately lettered sign hung from the entrance’s red awning. Highlighted with complicated symbols, it swayed back and forth in the light breeze. Apothecary, it read. What did the symbols mean?
Clarysa stepped forward to unlatch the gate, only to be stopped by Hunter’s burly arm. “You don’t want to do that,” he said.
She huffed. “Why not? Will somebody please explain where we are and how this is helping Stellan?”
Patrulha turned to her with a wry look. “Think I’m the rash one, do you?” She scooped up some pebbles from the path. “Well, think again.” She tossed the stones against the gate. They faded into spots of reddish gas that quickly blew away in the breeze. Clarysa took a step back in horror. Without a sound, each of the rocks had simply ceased to be.
Hunter nodded down to Clarysa’s hand. “That could just as well have been you, lass.” Clarysa swallowed hard, her gaze transfixed upon the venomous gate.
Patrulha unsheathed her sword. She proceeded to carve several intricate patterns on the gate’s surface. They glowed a bright green before quickly disappearing. After Patrulha carved the sixth glyph, however, the gate opened and beckoned them inside.
Patrulha instantly strode through. Hunter turned with a reassuring smile, his outstretched hand bidding Clarysa to precede him, which she did–cautiously. The rest of the group followed close behind.
Clarysa studied the humble abode as she approached it on the crunchy gravel path. A combination of gray stone and wood, it appeared roomy and well-maintained. What a curious place. But where are we?
The first to reach the door, Patrulha pounded on it mercilessly. A few minutes later, an elderly man with a wiry frame opened it.
“Where is he, old man?” She pushed past him to get inside.
Clarysa accepted Hunter’s invitation to precede him, although she felt like an intruder. Still, the apothecary’s shop was a fascinating place. Hundreds of small, brightly colored bottles surrounded her. Each rested neatly on dark walnut shelves, interspersed with leather-bound books of all sizes. The wooden floor creaked noisily under her feet. Its polished surface reflected the golden light of oil-burning lamps. Medicinal odors and perfumed scents weaved together in the air.
The old man inclined his head as Clarysa and her companions grouped about him. “I’m doing quite well, my dear. Thanks for inquiring.” One corner of his thin mouth curved up. “What can I do for you, Patrulha?”
“Don’t waste my time. Where’s Stellan?”
“Why, I haven’t seen him in over a year.”
“We found the tracks outside, Hans. Don’t ever mistake me for a fool.”
The apothecary sighed, stroking his silver goatee. “Of course not. I’ve heard the tales of those unfortunates who have.” He gestured toward a red doorway in the back. “He’s here, but is not to be disturbed under any circumstances. You’ll never guess the fright he gave me, bursting through my door in that guise!”
He’s alive! Thank heaven! Clarysa pushed herself between them. “Is he all right? I need to see him!”
Hans regarded her curiously over the rim of his glasses. “And who might you be?”
“I’m his wife…I mean, I will be. We were to be married. His witch of a sister interfered. I was abducted, and she… Oh, where is he? Please take me to him. Stellan!” Clarysa called out. She stepped toward the red door, only to be halted by the apothecary’s iron-hard grip around her upper arm.
“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” he said firmly.
“But, sir, you don’t understand–”
“Sit!”
Hans maneuvered her into a chair. Clarysa landed with such force it nearly tipped over. The apothecary pulled up another one, and motioned for the others to gather ’round. “Your Stellan came to me a short time ago. His shape… Well, let’s just say he was in an extremely bad way. If he had delayed any longer, you might have never seen him again–at least not as you knew him.” Hans paused to wipe hi
s glasses with a corner of his shirt. “Together we’re edging closer to an antidote. Been up forty hours straight. Very challenging when your partner can’t even speak.” He pointed a finger at Clarysa. “At any rate, he must not be disturbed. The potion has to be exact. The slightest movement in the room could affect the measurements. Trust me, that’s an outcome you don’t want.”
The echo of a snarl reverberated from the back room.
Clarysa put a hand to her temple, fearing the worst. “What will happen if you can’t get the potion right?”
Hans glanced behind him, then faced Clarysa again. “You must understand that time is against us. The curse corrupted not only his body, but also his mind. Every hour, every minute, his intellect wanes. His blood grows more feral with each passing moment.”
“What do you mean?” Clarysa whispered. “What’s happening to him?”
“If he does not ingest the correct antidote soon–and I mean within the next hour–there will be no reversing the spell. In mind and body, he will remain a beast forever.”
Patrulha reached down and grabbed a knot of the apothecary’s shirt in a fist. “Then you’d best be getting back to work!” she ordered, and half pushed him in the direction of his workroom. “I’ll ensure there are no further interruptions.” This last remark she directed with great obviousness toward Clarysa.
Hans retreated to the back room. Patrulha assumed a wide stance before it with arms crossed. Nothing short of a battering ram would get past her, that much was clear.
Clarysa wilted in her chair, feeling utterly useless. There was nothing she could do but wait.
Chapter 35
Clarysa sat pensively, her arms wrapped tightly about herself. The wooden floor creaked periodically whenever someone shifted or walked about the room. No one spoke.
Hunter raided the pantry. He passed around jars of pickled vegetables and a crusty loaf of rye bread. Clarysa shook her head as he approached. In her jittery state, she wouldn't be able to keep any food down. Hunter shrugged and moved on.
With food consumed and appetites tamed, the men reclined or sat on the floor to rest. The air grew still and quiet.
A soft thump broke the silence. Alarmed, Clarysa looked at the door. The sound had come from outside. Patrulha gestured for continued silence and then motioned for one of the men to investigate. She and the others took up strategic positions inside.
Hunter escorted Clarysa to a hiding place behind a high counter. After he left to join the others, she immediately peeked around the corner, giving her a wide view of the expansive room.
Sounds of violence filtered through the walls. Metal grated against metal. Muffled shouts and curses burst forth. Patrulha sent out a second man. Wasting no time, she drew her sword.
A large boulder smashed through the north side window. In quick succession, another penetrated the adjacent wall. When a third hurtled straight toward her head, Patrulha dove into a forward roll and sprang to her feet. More shouts filled the air. Clarysa looked up to see dark figures streaking back and forth past the remaining windows. Who are they? Had someone followed them here? Once again, Clarysa was bereft of any weapons. She crept out onto the floor to grab a large shard of glass. This will have to do. She returned to her hiding place.
The door burst open. Clarysa gaped at the sight of the callous-looking soldier who appeared. His armor was devoid of any light or reflection. His demeanor was one of death. Her paltry shard held no chance against this being.
He charged into the room, only to have his head depart his shoulders as Patrulha deftly struck him down. Her sword severed the armor as if it were passing through smoke.
Other strange soldiers poured forth. Some wore ebony uniforms and wielded gleaming swords. Others looked more like ill-tempered mercenaries. They were clearly after something. But what? Were they here to capture Stellan?
Patrulha whirled about, a demon of combat. Her sword clashed with those of the enemy, sometimes battling two or three at a time. Entranced, Clarysa watched as Patrulha effortlessly dispatched all who attempted to breach the door. Armored bodies began to pile up near the entrance, a testament to her prowess.
More enemy soldiers came. The fighting intensified. Blood coated the floor, creating hazardous footing. The number of angry voices outside seemed to increase a hundredfold. The fighting seemed like it would never end. Should she seek out Stellan? No. She would only become a liability if found.
Maybe she should have given up her royal status long ago. If she were more like Patrulha, she could have contributed something meaningful to this quest. Now she was only a burden, like a gangrenous limb. A gangrenous limb who had insisted on tagging along with no clear plan. Idiot.
By the entrance, the Captain was locked in mortal combat with a soldier who had forsworn head armor for a menacing facial tattoo. The enemy’s meaty hand tightened about Patrulha’s neck as he held her against the wall. His sword arm poised dangerously at her midsection.
Patrulha’s face grew red. Sweat-dampened hair plastered her cheeks. She struggled violently and then bared her teeth in a snarl. A well-timed kick to the man’s midsection loosened his death grip. Patrulha then delivered a series of punches that sent him to his knees, followed by a powerful blow from her sword. Clarysa glanced away as the man’s severed head dropped to the floor.
Panting hard, Patrulha wiped her blade clean on the soldier’s clothing. Then she looked toward the open doorway and froze. Clarysa followed the line of her gaze, then clamped a hand to her mouth.
The woman from her dream stood in the doorway.
A lavender cloak draped the woman’s supple figure. She regarded Patrulha with green eyes as vivid as Stellan’s. Her onyx hair had been trussed into a sleek bun.
Stellan’s sister! Clarysa found the resemblance troublesome and eerie. What was she doing here?
A flowing purple flame appeared to hover about her form, yet never touched her. The air reeked as if sulfur and flesh had been ignited together in one awful melange. From her vantage point, Clarysa could only see Patrulha’s back, but she had an unobstructed view of the sorceress in all her preternatural power. No wonder the soldiers had been able to breach the magickal barrier. This sorceress must have destroyed it.
Stellan’s sister took a nimble step forward, but stopped as Patrulha blocked her path, sword upraised. The sorceress sighed, her expression one of grace and malice combined. “I might choose a different strategy if I were you.”
Patrulha flexed her hands, tightening her grip. “You have no business here, Sada.”
“Come now, Captain. Are all gypsies as arrogant and stupid as you?” Faster than the human eye could follow, she flicked her wrist in a circular pattern, leaving the air about her boiling in shadow and thunder.
But except for the slight vibration of Patrulha’s sword, nothing happened. The Captain uttered a low and confident laugh. “Now I remember why I had to have this blade–to cleave snotty bitches like you in half!”
Sada laughed merrily, as though they were two friends gossiping. “Well, I see the kitten brought her own toys!”
The sorceress advanced. Patrulha glanced quickly in the direction of Clarysa’s hiding place and then leaped over the ruined wall. Sada followed her outside, gliding over the rubble on some kind of magickal force. Clarysa changed position to see them better.
The sorceress’s eyes flashed a brighter green. The air about them darkened. Unearthly sounds shrieked from their hateful realms, as Sada’s visage contorted into impossible forms. Multicolored shards of death rained down upon Patrulha, but her sword drew them from harm’s way. The Captain of the Guard grunted. The acrid air about her continued to pop and sputter as the two combatants locked horns again.
Sada waved an arm. A black, shapeless mass rose from the ground. Bizarre creatures swam within it–a cluster of scaly tentacles with barbed ends, creatures with snapping claws, soul-sucking ghouls. Sada flicked a finger. The roiling mass enveloped Patrulha, spinning around her like a vortex.
Grimacing, Patrulha slowly rotated her sword. The enchanted weapon began to absorb the mass.
Clarysa was distracted by a figure appearing at the gap in the wall. She choked back a cry of relief and waved for Lionel’s attention. He jumped over the rubble and ran to her side. “Clarysa! You don’t know how overjoyed I am to see you! Are you all right?”
Clarysa nodded as she clung to him.
“We arrived a short time ago,” he whispered in her ear. “Rainier and I and a few others tracked the saberwolf creature to this place. During our approach, we spotted these intruders skulking about the building.” Lionel wrinkled his nose. “Men from the Wastes, most likely. Beastly lot, if you ask me.” He smiled reassuringly. “We took care of the ones outside.” He pointed to Sada. “Except for her. Stay here. I’m going to offer my assistance.” Lionel rose in the direction of the dueling pair.
Clarysa held him back. “No, you mustn’t! That woman is a sorceress. You’ll have absolutely no defense against her. She’ll kill you before you could even draw your sword!”
Lionel’s facial muscles twitched as he considered her warning. The air continued to crackle about the two. Then he crouched back down. “I daresay you’re right.”
They resumed watching, for it was the only action they could take.
Outside, Patrulha closed in on Sada, still with her back to Clarysa and Lionel. Sada’s eyes filled with venom. Her body glowed with otherworldly power.
Patrulha bolted forward, deftly changing sword hands as she did. Her sword now rested squarely in Sada’s abdomen. Clarysa gasped and started to rise, only to be stopped by a cautious Lionel. “I don’t think it's over just yet,” he whispered. “Look!”
Clarysa strained to see. Before them all lingered the mortally wounded Sada, still standing defiantly on her feet. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, yet her lips curved upward in a cruel smile.
Clarysa frowned. Why is she looking so smug?
Sada backed away, ever so slowly. Her face paled as the sword left her body, but the smile–her ever-devilish grin–did not falter. A dark stain ballooned on her side, a reminder that steel could still harm those of the Arts. Then, with a knowing look to the shop, she glided away and out of sight.
Lord of Snow and Ice Page 24