The Ouroboros Cycle, Book Three: A Long-Awaited Treachery

by G. D. Falksen

  As Amadeus fell, the trauma overwhelming his strength of will, the soldier made sure of his incapability with a blow to the throat. She then raised the glaive high into the air and prepared to cleave Amadeus’s head in two.

  Varanus dove in and struck the soldier in the back of her leg where it was unprotected by armor. The woman cried out and fell to the side, using the glaive’s pole to catch herself. Varanus leapt upon the soldier, bringing both axes down at her. The soldier threw her weapon up and blocked the attack. Frustrated, Varanus forced the glaive down and drove one axe into the side of the soldier’s neck.

  Another soldier appeared from the fray and thrust a sword at her. Varanus jerked away just in time. As the man made another attempt, Zabel intervened and knocked his blade away. Varanus lunged forward and brought the man down in a flurry of blows with her axes.

  There was something monstrously exhilarating about the fighting, and Varanus almost felt herself drifting away into a muddled haze as she hacked and swung, ducked and withdrew. It was almost like being intoxicated, though being drunk on bloodshed was a horrible thing to imagine.

  “Come now, liebchen,” Korbinian said to her, standing in the midst of the enemy, his face and clothes drenched in blood. “Surely our vices are only evil if they bring more harm than good. And what deed could be better than to save the lives of the innocent?”

  “Perhaps,” Varanus murmured. She paused just long enough to strike down another soldier as he passed her while exchanging blows with Magnus. This interruption seemed to offend Magnus greatly, but Varanus paid it no mind.

  “Behind you, liebchen,” Korbinian said.

  At his warning, Varanus turned just in time to see a bardiche axe being swung at her head. She threw up her weapons to block the attack and fell backward. Her assailant adjusted his position and tried again, but before the attack could land, Vaclav stepped in from the side and drove his sword into the soldier’s chest.

  Breathing heavily, Varanus looked around the room. The fighting had suddenly ebbed. The attacking soldiers had fallen back in retreat, having lost almost half their numbers. Reza and the others were too exhausted to pursue.

  “Glorious victory!” cried Magnus, even as he clutched his bleeding side.

  “Near enough to it,” agreed Zabel, though she looked skeptical. She quickly turned to help Amadeus as he struggled to rise despite his bleeding throat.

  Vaclav quickly rushed to Reza, and Varanus followed him. Extending his hand, Vaclav helped Reza to stand.

  “Are you well, My Lord?” he asked.

  “Well enough,” said Reza. He looked at Varanus and frowned. “Sister Varanus.... How fortunate you are here to assist us.”

  “Isn’t it?” Varanus agreed.

  She was concerned that Reza might elaborate and mention her confinement in front of the others, but to her relief, nothing was said about it.

  “I take it you are not loyal to Margaret,” Reza said to Vaclav.

  “No, My Lord,” Vaclav replied. “We are loyal to Sophio and to the Law of Shashava, which it seems Margaret has publicly abandoned.”

  “Indeed?” Reza asked, looking deeply troubled.

  “I fear she seeks to make Basilisks of us all,” said Vaclav.

  Reza stroked his beard, greatly ill at ease. “Margaret demanded that we submit to her authority at the Council meeting. When we refused, she and her allies attempted to kill us. Without the intervention of Lady Zawditu and her forces, we would surely have perished.”

  “Where are the others now, My Lord?” asked Vaclav.

  “Safely outside the castle, I hope. We were attempting to escape when we were ambushed, and I was separated from them, as were several others. Marie of Toulouse....” Reza paused, uncertain what to ask.

  “Dead,” Varanus said.

  “Dead?” Reza’s face fell at the thought. “How?”

  “She was captured by Margaret and executed,” Varanus explained. “Margaret demanded that she convert to her Basilisk ways, and when Marie refused, she was killed as an example.”

  Reza was silent for a time as the others helped each other up and tended to their wounds. Presently, he spoke:

  “Darkness has fallen again upon the House of Shashava. We must take care if we are to bear through into the light.”

  “Indeed, My Lord,” Vaclav said. “In the meantime, I am pleased to report that we have secured a place of safety, and we are in the midst of obtaining supplies.”

  Reza nodded. “Well done, Vaclav. Let us get the wounded there that they may have some time to rest.”

  “Yourself included, I hope, My Lord.”

  “I am perfectly fine, Vaclav,” Reza replied.

  “If I may...” Varanus said. “We ought to tend to the wounded first, so that their blood does not leave a trail for the enemy to follow. And perhaps we should rub down our boots as well.”

  Vaclav and Reza both looked at her, surprised at the suggestion. Presently, Reza smiled.

  “Young Varanus,” he said, “despite past...difficulties...I am at this moment very pleased to have you here with us and not in a cell somewhere.”

  “Nonsense, My Lord,” Varanus answered politely. “Why ever would I be in a cell? I’m not really the meditative type, you know.”

  * * * *

  They led the survivors—hastily cleaned to avoid leaving a trail—to the safety of the hidden chapel and appraised Joan and the others of the situation. The Living had already been healed of their wounds, but there were a few Shashavani of the Shadow as well, and they would need longer to recuperate.

  “Are you well, Brother Amadeus?” Varanus asked, crossing to the man where he sat against the wall. Amadeus’s wounds had closed and he was back on his feet, but he still touched his throat from time to time, as if remembering the pain of the fight.

  Amadeus looked up and nodded. “Well enough, thank you Doctor Varanus.”

  “Does your wound still hurt you?”

  Varanus knew that the blood of the Living was toxic, that it burned inside the body and could even poison a man to death. But she had never experienced it herself, and she was very curious about it.

  “No,” Amadeus said quickly. “No, there is no more pain. I simply...recall it. It was like....” He frowned at the memory. “It was like the touch of the sun. I never wish to experience it again.”

  “Curious,” Varanus said. She smiled and patted Amadeus on the shoulder.

  She crossed the room to where Koba and Anuka were busy sorting the weapons and ammunition, pairing the firearms with the corresponding shot. They glanced at her when she approached, but they did not stop her as she selected the elephant gun, a pistol, and a sword to go along with her axes.

  “Doctor,” said Vaclav, joining her by the weapons, “we are assembling parties to find food and supplies. Would you care to join one of them?”

  “I cannot,” Varanus answered. “I have a more pressing concern.”

  “More pressing than food?”

  “Father Vaclav, I must find Ekaterine before something happens to her,” Varanus explained. “I spoke to Lord Reza, and he says that she was not among the company that escaped the castle. So I can only assume that she is still here somewhere.”

  Vaclav nodded. “True enough, I suppose. Where will you look?”

  “My rooms first,” Varanus said. “She may have gone there looking for me.” It would also give her the opportunity to get a change of clothes. “Failing that, I will search the archives.”

  “It will be dangerous to go alone,” Vaclav said. “What happens if you are found?”

  “Then I will kill everyone who gets in my way.” It seemed such an obvious answer; Varanus couldn’t imagine why Vaclav needed her to explain it.

  Vaclav laughed and shook his head.

  “You are a determined one, Doctor,” he said. “And it is well
for us that you are.”

  “Thank you, Father. Compliments are always appreciated.”

  “May I accompany you on your search?” Vaclav asked.

  “Why...yes,” Varanus replied, surprised at the offer. “I would certainly welcome your help. But don’t you have more important things to search for, such as food?”

  Vaclav gave another one of his smiles.

  “Well, Doctor, you shall look for your friend, and I shall look for food. God willing, we shall find both.”

  Chapter Twenty

  •

  Varanus found her rooms quiet and untouched when she arrived. A part of her had feared that they might have been ransacked, her tools looted, and her notes destroyed. Instead, she found everything neat and organized. Of course, more than half of her books were gone, appropriated by the librarians and returned to their “rightful place” in the archives, and her notes on the water experiments had been taken as well, used as evidence against her. But the rest of her belongings were still where she had left them.

  For a few moments, the tidiness of the place gave her hope that Ekaterine might be there, keeping everything orderly in anticipation of her arrival. But it was not so. As Varanus searched her rooms, she found no sign of anyone. Still refusing to give up hope, Varanus called softly for Ekaterine as she searched under the bed, in the cupboards and the wardrobe, and anyplace else she could imagine a person hiding. But each place was empty.

  “I do not think she is here,” Vaclav said, as Varanus walked from her laboratory back into the main room.

  “I fear you are right,” Varanus agreed. “I had hoped....” She shook her head. “But no, it would not be that simple. She must still be in the archives.”

  “Hopefully.” Vaclav tried to smile reassuringly, but he could not conceal his doubts about Ekaterine’s fate. He glanced toward the door and said, “We ought to depart. It is not safe to remain in one place.”

  Varanus frowned and glanced at her laboratory. What was she to do about her things? Her notes, her journals, the fruits of two decades of research...what would happen to them when Margaret’s soldiers eventually came to search the place? What might be destroyed? But then again, where could she hide it?

  She saw Korbinian reclining on the sofa with his feet up.

  “Be logical, liebchen,” he said. “Margaret’s followers may be mad and murderous, but they remain Shashavani. Surely they value knowledge far too much to vandalize your research.”

  Varanus considered this. Was it possible? Might even the mad Shashavani have respect for the sanctity of knowledge? Of course, it was such an uncertain thing on which to gamble.

  “Then again, liebchen, twenty years of research is only twenty years. You have untold lifetimes in which to replace what is lost. But you only have one dearest friend.”

  Varanus nodded. Korbinian was certainly right about that. Shame on her for thinking of her work before thinking of her friend. After all, without Ekaterine, she might never get anything done.

  She took a step toward Vaclav and the door when Korbinian added:

  “Oh, but liebchen, you may wish to attend to your attire. I doubt you will have much opportunity to change your clothing again. You may as well take advantage of it.”

  Varanus looked down at her clothes, which were bloodstained and tattered. There was an unpleasant gash in the center of her blouse where she had trapped Teimuraz’s sword. She certainly looked a sight, and the holes in her clothing would offer no protection against either weapons or spilled blood, which would burn her if it was allowed to enter her wounds. Nor would her current clothing safeguard her against the sunlight. It would be all too easy for an older Shashavani or one in the Shadow to kill her simply by opening a few windows during the daytime, and that was not something she could risk, not until she knew how long she would be trapped inside.

  “Just a moment, Father Vaclav,” she said, hurrying to her bedroom.

  “But...I...” Vaclav called after her, motioning toward the door.

  In the bedroom, Varanus stripped off her clothes and began pulling fresh garments from her wardrobe. She glanced toward the bathing chamber, silently wishing she had the time to wash, but that would be an impossible extravagance under the circumstances. Still, she found some water that had been left unattended in a basin by the bed and scrubbed the worst of the dried blood from her exposed skin and hair.

  She knew that heavy skirts would be a liability in the event of fighting, but almost all her clothes were dresses—even among the Shashavani, where there was no restriction on one’s clothing, the habits of youth were very hard to break. But she did have a new bicycle suit packed away in a cedar chest, which Ekaterine had given to her for her birthday. Apparently Ekaterine had taken quite a fancy to the fashion, though she had been forbidden from owning an actual bicycle due to an unfortunate incident in the library two years earlier.

  For added protection, Varanus selected a leather coat and smock that she used in the lab, along with heavy leather gloves. She hid her hair beneath a thick hood, and in the end only her face was exposed to the elements. It would have to do.

  “Doctor, what are you doing?” Vaclav called to her. “We have no time!”

  “I am just coming, Father,” Varanus answered, tucking her axes into her sword belt and returning to the parlor. As she went, she passed an old plague doctor’s mask that sat on the edge of her desk. She had found it in the castle some time ago and had taken a liking to it. On a whim, she took the mask and tied it to her belt. Perhaps it would prove useful for protecting her face from the sun.

  Vaclav looked at her as she returned and nodded.

  “Ah, I see,” he said. “You certainly look better prepared. I am suddenly envious.”

  “Our enemies wear trousers,” Varanus replied. “It was an unfair advantage.”

  “Of course.”

  “Now, let us go to the archives,” Varanus said. “I must find Ekaterine.”

  * * * *

  “Varanus!” Ekaterine cried, waking with a start.

  She found herself in a strange bed in a strange room with no idea of how she had come to be there. There was a warm fire on the hearth and the room was cozy, but it was completely unfamiliar.

  Had she been kidnapped?

  Ekaterine struggled to sit up, but she felt weak and quite possibly feverish. Was she ill?

  Suddenly a dark figure loomed above her, reaching for her.

  “No!” Ekaterine shouted, lashing out, pushing the figure away with one hand while searching for a weapon with the other.

  “Cousin!” the figure shouted, in a voice that made Ekaterine pause.

  It was Luka.

  Ekaterine pulled her arms away and sat up a little more, though it made her a dizzy.

  “Where am I?” she asked.

  “You are safe,” Luka said, sitting in a chair beside the bed. “You’re in the town across the river.” He took her hand and gently squeezed it. “Do you remember how you came here?”

  Ekaterine put her hand to her head as she tried to remember. Everything was there, but she was having trouble putting it all together.

  “I was shot,” she said, touching her side. There was a fresh bandage there. In fact, her clothes had been removed entirely, replaced by a warm woolen shift. “And the water was very cold.”

  Luka nodded. “You were indeed shot. Do you recall by whom?”

  Ekaterine thought for a moment while her attacker’s face came into focus in her mind. She scowled at the memory.

  “Jan of Holland.”

  Luka’s moustache twitched. He knew that Ekaterine had regarded Jan as a friend.

  “Well,” he finally said, “the important thing is that you are here and you are alive. You suffered a very severe chill.”

  “I swam across the river, didn’t I?” Ekaterine asked.

  That wo
uld explain the fever.

  “You did,” Luka answered. His moustache twitched again. He was not happy about that.

  How close to dying did I come? Ekaterine wondered.

  “I had thought the river would be frozen over by now,” she explained.

  “Alas, not yet,” Luka said. “But you will be pleased to learn that the people you led out of the castle have survived, though there are several other cases of fever. We shall have to watch them until it breaks.” He smiled at her. “You saved dozens of lives, cousin. You should be proud of yourself.”

  Ekaterine returned the smile for a moment, but then she frowned.

  “Where is Varanus?”

  “Cousin...” Luka said hesitantly.

  “Where is she?” Ekaterine demanded, leaning forward angrily.

  “I do not know,” Luka replied. “I have looked for her, cousin, but she is not among the survivors here. I fear that she is....” He frowned. “I fear that she is dead.”

  “No,” Ekaterine said, shaking her head sharply. “No, she is not dead.”

  “Cousin—”

  “I meant to go back for her once I had gotten the archivists out of the castle,” Ekaterine said, her face twisting with worry. “I was going to look for her, but then I was shot, and there was the river, and I was dizzy.... I don’t know what happened.”

  Luka laid a hand on Ekaterine’s arm and looked into her eyes.

  “Cousin, you have saved a great many people,” he said. “You have done a good thing. I too mourn for the Doctor’s loss, but there was nothing you could do for her. She was locked in a cell. How could you have hoped to rescue her?”

  “Varanus is alive,” Ekaterine replied, speaking very firmly, “and I need to go back into the castle and find her.”

  “She is dead,” Luka insisted, “or soon will be. She is a scholar and not even past her century. She cannot survive, not even if she tries to throw her lot in with the enemy. She is Iosef’s student and through him tied to Lady Sophio. For that alone, they will kill her. I am sorry, but there is nothing we can do for her.”