Teagan

by Sharilyn Skye

  The others had slowed to surround the wagons, and I caught them quickly. Kharis rounded on me as I approached, blocking me from the caravan that continued without us.

  “You hesitated. I saw it in your eyes,” she said, leveling her cool gaze on me. The silence settled between us, and I knew I had to use words selectively.

  “I didn’t understand the situation,” I answered, meeting her eyes. Her face was so blank that I glanced at her hand to see if it rested on her sword.

  “I saw violence on your face, and it was not toward the villagers. Many warriors have died on their first visit to that village. You did better than most but worse than others. Explain yourself.” She stood still as ice, her hand hovering above her blade.

  I did not know if I could take her in a fight. I was not given the opportunity to be First Blade. She held that title and had not raised her sword to mine during testing.

  I knew as I sat on that mare surrounded by the beauty and honesty that is winter that blood would flow on the snow around us. Whether it was now or sometime in the future, we would see if I could be First Blade. I heard the slow approach of horses circling behind me, and I knew that day was not today.

  I was not a coward, but if I were to change this place, death in the middle of the Eregion high plains would not serve that purpose.

  “I see violence on your face now, Teagan. Choose wisely.” She sat on her horse, watching my face with cold appraisal.

  “There are no children in Talamh na Sithe. I am taken aback by many things in that village but more so the children. I’ve never seen a baby, never observed a mother with a baby. The man I understand as they are of little value,” I added, “I don’t understand the children.” I cocked my head and cleared my face of expression to mirror hers. I jostled the bundle in my arms enough to draw her eye to it. The child had quieted during our ride but stirred now and let out a wail.

  She laughed so loudly it echoed across the plains and off the mountain beyond. “Of course,” she said. “Of course, I should have warned a barren Fae about the babies,” She laughed again, riding to my side and side-stepping her mare to mine. “Give her to me.” She reached expectantly.

  Taking the baby, I held her between us, not letting her go. Kharis moved my cloak from the baby’s face, exposing it. “Someday, she will be a warrior. She will ride with us to that village, just as many women did today, and she will hold the next generation of warriors to her breast and ride away. Just as the males are raised from weaning to be slaves, the females are raised to be warriors. They stay with us and learn. They cannot be taught to be leaders and warriors in that village. Only we can do that. She will go to an old warrior who can no longer ride, and she will grow strong and learn to fight. If she is too soft to hold a sword, she will go back and bear the next generation of babies we cull. A percentage of handpicked males go back at breeding age to keep the wheel turning. It is the way of it.”

  “There are a dozen such villages across this land that live in peace and prosperity. We leave them alone. Their men are free. They can make their own choices and be independent until the day, once yearly, we come and collect our due. They may mate with whomever they choose, but the children must come from one man chosen by the village to be their sire. He is killed at the end of his cycle so that inbreeding is limited. This is the price of their freedom, and it works well for everyone involved.” She smiled at me so sweetly and covered the baby’s face, pushing her back to me.

  “That makes perfect sense, Kharis,” I said, smiling back even while I seethed on the inside. It was no better than what Aramea did, if anything, it was worse. Those people have no choice, not really. This was not freedom. None of it. I clutched one of the last living vestiges of the man who gave his life for those he loved closer to me, making her a silent vow to do better by them all.

  “I’m glad you see it that way, Teagan, your life here will be long. Many new warriors struggle with the concepts that are the foundation of this land, and more than you can imagine, die during that particular test of loyalty. Despite your initial hesitation, you did well. Come, let us join the others.” She tapped the sides of her mare, urging her on, and I did the same. We were back at the wagons within moments.

  Ang’ali glared as the Queen, and I approached, Her hot eyes found mine and I knew she would be a problem. The Queen just smiled and shook her head like we were errant teens. “You will adjust, I have no fear. You are a warrior at heart and fit perfectly among your sisters,” Kharis said, moving to the front of the lines.

  I followed, wanting to keep her close. Ang’ali moved to the opposite side of the Queen, and we rode three abreast back into the city.

  Due to the wagons, the pace was slow. The sun sank low on the horizon as we neared the walls. The gates opened, and riders rode swiftly through them.

  “I would speak to you, Kharis,” A rider named Pameline slid to a stop in front of us while others went to take the wagons and the bundled babies from our arms.

  I knew Pameline reasonably well as we often trained together and got along enough that I thought we might be friends. She cut her dark eyes at me, shifted in her saddle, and refused to meet my eyes. My stomach sank. Something was wrong.

  “Speak freely, Pameline,” Kharis said.

  “Teagan’s Trio are imprisoned. The troublesome one attacked one of your slaves.” Pameline scrunched her eyebrows again, casting another glance my way.

  “Which slave?” Kharis asked, her voice sharp with concern.

  “The one called Hel’r,” the warrior answered.

  “Oh,” the Queen said with a relieved sigh and soft shake of her head. “Not even a full day, and you will pay the price for your Trio’s actions. I warned you to choose wisely. There’s nothing to be done for it now, I suppose. Show her to the chains Pameline; I will pass judgment shortly,” sighing again; she rode away.

  “What is the meaning of this?” I asked as Pameline, rode up next to me, taking my reins.

  “That Trio will get you killed, Teagan. Why didn’t you choose another? Any other would have been better. You have a way of finding trouble. Most girls lay low a bit and learn the lay of the land. Not you. No. You’ve got to waltz in here, beat the others at their best games, and then pick the worst possible slave group to serve you. Ugh,” she finished.

  I almost laughed. Almost. “First of all, I didn’t waltz in here; a troll dragged me. Second of all, I had no idea about my Trio; I just felt a spark with them.”

  “Well, sparks lead to fire, and now you’re going to get burned,” she said, looking around quickly. She led me away from the others toward the palace courtyard. No one followed.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, knowing the answer.

  “One of your men started a fight this morning. Everyone knows they fight from time to time, but he did it in front of guards, and you will be whipped for it.” She stopped, watching my face.

  She called them men, not slaves. I filed that away for future reference. She was like me, not from this place, and maybe an ally could be made of her.

  I sighed, dropping my head back in silent prayer to my Goddess. I had known this was a possibility. During my orientation, they taught that warriors faced the consequences for their slave’s actions. They even taught what crimes lead to which punishments. That’s why I never wanted a Trio. I can barely keep my actions from getting me killed. Now, somehow, I had to assure theirs were appropriate too.

  This place sucked.

  “So, now what?” I asked with a sigh, opening my eyes to catch her staring.

  “You’re very calm,” she responded, scrunching her eyebrows together.

  “Can I change it?” I asked.

  “Maybe,” she said, her gaze soft and searching.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

  “You can forsake them and pick others. You’ve only had them a day. I doubt she will rake you over the coals either way, but she may give you a choice.” She watched me thoughtfully.

 
; “No. They are not animals. They are no different from you and me. I chose them. Whatever the consequence, I will deal with it,” I said, kicking my horse and walking past her.

  “That is a fascinating concept. I wouldn’t voice it too freely, Teagan. The women here do not view them as men.” She moved her horse abreast of mine, and we walked them toward the courtyard. Better to get this over with quickly and move on.

  “Do you feel that way?” I asked.

  “No,” she said, her voice so soft I strained to hear it.

  “Then perhaps we can be friends,” I said, not looking at her.

  “I think I would like that, only being your friend might prove to be dangerous. Good thing I like danger,” she laughed, kicking her horse into a trot. I followed, and together we went the rest of the way in silence.

  In the courtyard, I dismounted, handing the reins off to a waiting slave. My men were on their knees, chained to one another by their wrists and ankles, their heads bowed to the ground. Syl’ta looked up, and I saw the sorrow in his eyes. The resigned slump of Kar’s shoulders telegraphed his thoughts, and Lyros looked as if his soul had already fled. I gave a soft shake of my head in warning, and Syl’ta’s face changed from sorrowful to concerned.

  I stood at attention as the courtyard filled with warriors and slaves alike. Kharis moved out onto the balcony and wasted no time in reading the charges against me.

  “Teagan Rilynoquar, you are here to answer for the charges against your Trio. The charge is disorderly conduct of a Trio and behavior unbecoming of a warrior. This is their fourth such charge and requires twelve lashes. As you are Fae, those lashes will be delivered with a cold iron chain so that you cannot heal them immediately and have time to consider your slaves’ actions. How you deal with them afterward is your choice. As, by your admission, you have not mated with your Trio, and they have been in your care only a short time. A not guilty plea will free you from responsibility and allow you to start again. A guilty plea means you accept this punishment and responsibility for all their actions in the future. Understand that their infractions are cumulative over time. How do you plead?”

  Without hesitation, I said, “Guilty.”

  Loud exclamations rose from the crowd. I guessed my response was unexpected.

  “Very well then, remove your shirt and relinquish your arms to the chains,” Kharis sighed, and I looked up, catching her speculative look.

  Lyros had said this was their last chance. I had no doubt, if I renounced them, that they would have died on this expanse of cold stone.

  “I will not be chained. I accept punishment, but I will not be strung up while it is delivered,” I said, cocking my brow at her.

  She cocked her own in response, “You cannot move, Teagan, the chains are to help you with that.”

  “I will not move, Kharis,” I said, standing straight and squaring my shoulders. “There is no pain in acceptance.” I walked past my men, placing a kiss on each of their heads then walked briskly to the wall.

  The quiet intake of breath told me that the last bit was unorthodox, but I cared not one bit. I would change this place, and it would start today.

  “Teagan’s Trio, rise and see what your actions have wrought,” The Queen said, turning to them. She looked disappointed. It was hard to tell if it was because they caused this, or she had been denied the opportunity to end them finally. “May you consider this the next time you break the rules, though I doubt you care one bit. Trolls have more awareness of self; of this, I am sure.”

  At the wall, I stripped. Not just my shirt, but all of it. It was a pivotal moment. The significance of it settled in my bones, and I knew whatever happened was right.

  The Queen always wanted my tattoos hidden, and I bet that many here did not know I had them. There was a reason for that. Those that considered men slaves, and nothing more would think my tattoos made me something lesser. Those warrior women who had an attachment, affection, or kind thoughts about their Trios might see this differently. Seeing me marked in this fashion might make the tattooed men seem more Erhuhini and less like animals.

  I dropped my pants and my boots, kicking them into the pile of clothes and stood bare to them all. Part of this was selfish, too; I wanted to make a point and to make a point, I needed to be strong. I am strong, I didn’t doubt that, but twelve lashes with an iron chain might be more than I could bear.

  Cold Iron is a Fae’s worst weakness, and I could not afford to be weak. The Queen knew it would make me heal slower, but she didn’t seem to realize I had magic and that Cold Iron would take it from me. Pameline would not know any of this and would do her job as all warriors do. Well.

  A sharp gasp went up from the crowd as I showed all my skin in silence. At the wall, I braced my arms and let my tattoos harness the power and heat from the ground beneath the stones until my skin tingled with it. I waited.

  Pameline came, wielding the chain. I caught the faintest tremor in her hands from the corner of my eyes. “Do your job, friend, and worry not for that is all it is,” I said.

  The first slap of the chain was tentative and slow. The second, not so much. I felt each sting as Pameline worked my back. It hurt. It hurt very much. Had power not been coursing up and down my tattoos, it would have been too much. As it was, I stood unflinching but just barely.

  With each strike, the chain wrapped around my side, gripping the flesh on my breasts or belly, ripping it away. I kept my back and shoulders straight. I would not bow to them at this moment.

  Blood trickled down and stung the marks as the iron slowly poisoned me. Much of that poison the stones took, but not all. I felt lightheaded and forced it away. In the privacy of my quarters, I would be weak, not here.

  On the eighth strike, the crowd gasped as the iron sank through my back and exposed bone. On the tenth, When Pameline chose to spare my back and strike my hips, the crowd grew motionless. The silence was tense, and as the chain wrapped around my ample backside and gripped the flesh on the front, more than one voice shouted out against the next strike.

  The last strike wrapped the chain so tightly into the wound that Pameline had to pull it out with her fingers. Once free of the thin iron chain, I turned to face those gathered and let them see the results of my punishment. Maybe they knew Iron would hurt me, but they had surely not known it would mark me as it did- unless they had and meant to scar me. Steam rose from the wounds in the cold air as the touch of iron continued to scorch the flesh below. I stood naked, bloody, and still as they took it all in. Iron should have leached my strange magic, but it did not. My tattoos throbbed with life as they took some of my pain and gave me the strength to stand.

  The festive atmosphere had changed to pensive after the eighth strike and turned to anger as my blood ran steaming onto my feet and the stones below.

  Turning again so that my back was visible, I reached down for clothes, draped them over my arm, and walked naked to my men.

  “Release them,” I said to the guard that held their chains. She looked up at the Queen for conformation and, at her nod, released the Trio. I nodded once at the Queen then walked with my men to the doors of the Palace, leaving bloody footprints in my wake.

  Chapter Ten

  Kar

  If there were tears left in my soul, I would have cried them for our Mistress. I have witnessed many a beating of many a warrior, but I had never seen anything like this.

  They meant to ruin her.

  But she ruined their ruination with her strength. How does one so small contain so much? She walked with her destroyed back straight. It was trying to heal as I stared at it, but the poison in the chain stopped the strange magic she holds.

  She said nothing as she walked, her bloody feet slapping on the marble floors as she went, trails of smoking blood marring its polished white perfection.

  What manner of creature is she?

  At the door to our rooms, she faltered, and Lyros scooped her up. She whined, it was the first and only noise she made during this ordeal as
her body came into contact with his. We rushed through, closing it behind us. Lyros laid her on the bed and hurried to get cloths to clean her wounds. The skin of her face was burning hot, and her eyes did not open when I touched her.

  “What now?” I asked, snapping my eyes to Syl’ta. “She’s dying.”

  “She will not die, my child.” The woman that stepped from the mirror was small. Very small. She had the pale skin and silver hair of a warrior woman, but her eyes were a purple so light as to be unnatural.

  Her skin softly glowed, and peace rolled from her, causing me to drop to my knees. She was from this place but not. Lyros and Syl’ta dropped as well.

  “Rise, Gentle Men. Bring Teagan and follow me.” She turned in a swish of purple skirts and moved back to the mirror. Teagan had gone into the thing and said she would explain, but had not gotten the chance.

  I grabbed her to me and ran for the mirror. Her skin slipped against mine and came off in pieces. Her temperature was so high it could not be survivable. Still, I followed the silver lady through the mirror anyway as some new feeling slipped beyond the stone walls in my soul and took root. Faith.

  This woman said Teagan would not die, and I believed her.

  I slid through the mirror and felt nothing. I heard my brothers behind us, their feet pounding on the loamy soil beneath their feet. The flash of purple and silver led me past glorious flowers and lush plants that do not grow in Eregion. I wondered if we had jumped worlds. I’ve heard of such things. Maybe this woman was taking us to Talamh na Sithe.

  Rich, floral scents assaulted my nose, and soft greenery caressed my skin as I flew with our broken warrior down a path I could only hope did not lead to death. At the end of the trail, I stopped. Male bodies hit my back, but I stood my ground under their weight.