Seasons, page 15
“The mercenary?” The Herald’s face went dark. “One of the Tedrels?”
Liana glared at him. “The very same.”
The cries she’d heard when the door opened echoed in her mind. With Grunt in charge—if the monster . . . the ogre . . . was in charge—the babes would have been fed only enough to keep them alive. No one in Grunt’s company would care if the babes were changed or soothed.
Anger burned deep in her belly. She tried to tug her arm free of the Herald’s grip, but Nikko refused to let her go. His face had the distant look that meant he was communicating with his Companion.
They needed to do something, though Liana didn’t know whether to charge in or toss up what little remained in her stomach from breakfast.
“Hold tight a moment,” the Herald said. “Rufina?”
The back of the alley filled with a graceful white figure that glowed in the sunlight. Liana caught her breath.
“Is that a—” Jedren started.
“My Companion.” The Herald nodded. “I’ll introduce you later.”
His face went distant again, then he blinked. “Rufina says there’s a door that opens on the next alley over. She set someone to watch both that alley and door and summoned more help.”
Liana started toward the door, but the Herald shook his head.
“You two stay here. Give a shout if anyone slips out.”
He strode down the alley to the door, his step light though purposeful. He rapped twice, waited a moment, and rapped again.
The door opened a crack.
The Herald lashed out with his foot, smashing the door back on its hinge. Someone shouted. A hand showed where the door had been. Herald Nikko blocked the hand with his arm and disappeared inside. Voices raised in angry protest as something crashed to the floor.
Liana raced down the alley, Jedren close on her heels. She slipped through the splinters of jagged wood that used to be a door. The room inside was lit with lanterns on every wall.
There was no one in sight. The Herald had disappeared through another door and the sounds of fighting came from a room deeper within the building.
Liana tore through the room, peering into alcoves and cupboards, frantically searching for her son.
She almost missed him.
He’d been tucked into a pile of blankets in one of the alcoves. She pulled him free, careful to protect his head and neck.
“Reneth sweet,” Liana cooed. “It’s all right now. Mum’s here.”
Her son didn’t move.
She shook the babe, gently at first, growing more and more frantic when he didn’t respond. “Reneth?”
Forcing herself not to panic, she laid her cheek to his and almost sobbed in relief at the warmth against her skin—
A rough hand grabbed the back of her neck in an all-too familiar grip.
“There ya are, ya little whore!”
Liana released her grip on Reneth before she was lifted off the floor. Agony lit the muscles of her neck and shoulders on fire . . .
And suddenly she was back in the Tedrel camp . . .
Fear struck her so forcefully, she momentarily lost control of her body. Her legs and arms dangled as uselessly as a puppet without strings. Any moment, she might wet herself as thoroughly as her babes—
“Let her be!” Jedren’s young voice—laced with anger and fear—ripped through the air.
There was a sound of a scuffle and the grip on Liana’s neck was gone. She caught herself on one knee as she tumbled to the ground, bruising her elbow when she stopped her momentum just short of rolling into Reneth.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jedren fly through the air, slam against the far wall, and crumple to the floor.
Grunt loomed over her, his pig-eyes gleaming. A scar glistened on his forehead and his leering grin exposed a gap in his teeth that hadn’t been there before. “Ya think it was bad before? Now yer gonna find out just what runnin’ away gets ya.”
There was a time when those words would have turned her into a puddle of wet mush, unable to protest, unable to move. If he had stopped there. If he had let those words be his only threat, she would have been his again. Not from any desire to please him. Because she had known no other way.
“Then,” Grunt continued, “I’m takin’ my son and teachin’ him what it means ta be a real man.” His cracked lips widened into the evil grimace that still haunted her nightmares. “And I’m findin’ my daughter and teachin’ her what it means—”
“No!” Liana screamed and launched herself at his face, fingers curled like claws. Despite the difference in heights, she managed to leap high enough to sink the nails of her left hand into his cheek.
Grunt roared and grabbed her by the throat, a move Liana had expected. He liked to choke her nearly unconscious, then claimed he’d “given her back her life” before having his way with her.
He would never have his way with her again.
He would NEVER have his way with her children.
She fumbled her knife clear from her waistband. Stars twinkled at the edges of her vision and she sucked air into her lungs through the crushing grip on her throat. She had to delay the darkness she knew would come next. She squirmed as if trying to wriggle out of his grip.
The monster liked it when she struggled. Liked to gloat over his so-called superior strength.
Grunt pulled her closer, eyes glinting at her pain—
Lightning flashed behind her eyes as Liana swung the knife up—and plunged the blade through the monster’s eye.
Somewhere in the far distance Liana thought she heard a horse scream, then she felt herself falling . . . falling . . . into a bottomless pit of darkness.
A baby’s cry penetrated the darkness, yanking her back into a world filled with confusion. She coughed, the searing pain racking her throat echoed in her left arm and hip. She blinked—
And found herself lying on her side, staring into Grunt’s unblinking eye.
It took a moment before she recognized the knife protruding from his other eye.
Liana rolled to her knees, scuttling away like a frightened bug.
And backed into a pair of legs.
Stifling a scream, she lunged forward and yanked the blade from Grunt’s eye. Growling, she whipped around, blade dripping, and faced her new opponent.
Herald Nikko slowly lifted his hands. “No need for that, m’lady. The evildoers have all been—” He glanced at Grunt’s still form, “disposed of. Your son is safe.”
Liana stared at the Herald, struggling to remember just who he was. Where she was.
Memory swept over her, driving her back to her knees. She dropped the knife and scanned the room until she located a pile of blankets. A sob stuck in her throat as she crawled to the blankets and lifted Reneth’s limp body in her arms. Swallowing a scream, she rocked back and forth on her knees, stroking the tiny cheek, willing his eyes to open.
“He should be fine.” The Herald kept his voice low and quiet, the tone one might use to calm a frantic horse. “Rufina says the babes have been drugged, but only enough to help them sleep.”
Drugged. Not hurt.
Liana drew in a deep breath, battling the urge to cough. She gently laid her son back on the blankets and pulled the bundle of diapers from her waistband. Her nose confirmed her suspicions—he hadn’t been changed.
“I’ll check the others,” Jedren said.
“Rufina’s called for assistance,” Herald Nikko said. “A wise idea, considering you just saved twenty infants.”
“Twenty?” Liana stared at the Herald. “How—”
Herald Nikko raised his hands. “Seems the Tedrels’ goal was to ‘collect’ enough babes to pay for the children ‘stolen’ by Valdemar.”
Liana shuddered. How long had Grunt been in Haven watching her, plotting how to snatch the twins?
“He ain’t gonna bother ye nor the twins again,” Jedren said. “Ye done made certain ’o that.”
Liana nodded.
Then she threw up, turning her head just in time to avoid splattering the babe.
:Good,: a voice said in her head. :I was hoping you’d react that way.:
The only other time she’d had a voice in her head had been in the Waystation with Bolan.
But Bolan wasn’t here—
:Rufina?:
Why was the Companion speaking to her?
:Not Rufina. A friend. Perhaps we’ll meet some day. Just remember—your ogre was indeed a monster. Taking a life should never be easy or pleasurable. Sometimes it is necessary, but it should always make you feel just the way you feel right now. Sick.:
:Who are—?:
:I told you. A friend. Now take care of your son. He needs you.:
And the voice was gone. She could feel the emptiness left behind, a sudden loss that felt as though something had been torn from her.
Reneth started to cry, chasing away the sense of loss and emptiness. Liana gathered her son close, relieved to hear him take a deep breath and bellow his protest at being held so tightly.
“Ye be safe now,” she assured him. “Yer sister’s safe. We all be safe.”
Around her she became aware of other babes waking, some sniffling, some sobbing, some erupting in loud screams.
“Hush now. You’re going home,” someone said to one of the babes.
“Going home,” Liana whispered. She thought of Danelle and the other children. Of Belani—waiting to be fed.
And for the first time since escaping the Tedrel camp, she knew those words were true.
Holiday Reunions
Dylan Birtolo
The central bonfire in the small village had just begun. The flames licked at the large logs, charring the outside as the heat grew. By nightfall, it would be an intense blaze causing any onlooker to squint if they looked at its center. Eventually the woodsmoke would overpower the musty scent of an oncoming storm. But every raging inferno starts as a few sparks and a lick of flame.
Paxia held that lesson close to heart as she thought of the path laid out before her. This was her spark, her small tendrils producing smoke to herald the forthcoming cleansing.
The nagging sensation at the back of her mind heightened and she squeezed her eyes shut against the pressure. She could see them now, the Vrondi watching her. Pulling her cloak tight around her did nothing to dull their attention.
More had gathered since she approached the village, a clear indicator of a Herald. They would continue to gather. She wondered how long she had before she forgot how to use her Mage Gift. According to one of her tutors, it was inevitable. No one could remain within the boundaries of Valdemar and retain their magic.
Even if she forgot her magic, she would never forget her hatred for the Companions and what they did to her.
Dropping deeper into the woods, Paxia hiked back to her band of followers. They came from all over, acquired during her travels. Warriors from Karse, bandits from Rethwellan, and even a couple of mercenaries from Taymyrr. They followed her because they believed in her cause and her power.
Paxia picked up the large warhammer resting against a thick trunk and slammed its head into the earth. Few men could heft her hammer, let alone use it well, but years spent in front of a forge gave her the strength to wield the weapon. She had created it herself as she’d earned her keep crafting all manner of weapons and armor in her travels. It was a far cry from her previous requests for horseshoes and shovels, but it was work she plunged into with an intense fervor.
The men and women gathered in front of her were dressed in traveling clothes with small patches of hardened leather and the occasional metal plate. Speed and stamina were far more critical when operating in enemy territory. They all gave her their complete attention, and she took the time to make eye contact with each one before speaking.
“Tonight it begins. I promised you we would strike at Valdemar. Our target lies just beyond the edge of the tree line. We will start small, but these ripples will start a wave.”
She wasn’t much for speeches, but even that tidbit was enough to whet the appetites of her company. She saw more than a few grins and hands tightening on weapons in anticipation as they leaned forward. If the enemy presented itself right now, she doubted she could hold them back.
“When do we sack the village?” Brathe asked, one of the more bloodthirsty members. His grin managed to be more unsettling than his battle cry.
“We don’t,” Paxia said. “We have a single target. A Herald.”
The statement caused several murmurs. More than one person stepped back, and a few weapons lowered. When she passed her gaze over her men and women, about a third refused to meet her eyes. She expected as much.
She reached for the current of magic underneath her, seeking reassurance with its presence. Even that small act caused the stares to bore into the back of her skull with renewed intensity. She snarled as her fingers tightened around the haft of her weapon. Picking it up, she slammed it into the tree beside her hard enough to make the bark crack.
“You all knew this was our path. You knew the Heralds were our target. They’re the lifeblood of Valdemar, its spirit. Taking them out will make the whole structure fall. They and their Companions have forced their will over others for too long!”
She had their attention, but they still looked hesitant. Only the most aggressive of her company seemed ready to follow her. The others held back, shoulders hunched, feet turned away. She recognized the stance, the fear.
Horns sounded from the village, indicating the Sovvan hunt had begun. Soon the most capable would leave the village in an attempt to bring back prey worthy of the great feast. Each village had their own traditions, but she grew up here. She had been to the Sovvan Feast in this town as a teenager.
If her plan was to work, she needed to act now, and she couldn’t do it alone. They needed to fear her more than they feared the Herald.
Tapping into the current of magic, she threw out her hand. Lightning answered her call, arcing down from the storm clouds overhead to strike a tree a stone’s throw away from the gathering.
The flash of light made them jump even before the crack of thunder echoed through the forest. People gripped their weapons, some in shaking hands, but she didn’t care. They knew the plan and would do their part. All that mattered was getting the Herald. Any damage done to the morale of her company could be dealt with later.
As she turned away to take her position, she swung at one of the Vrondi lurking near the edge of her vision. Her burst of magic brought a small swarm of them down on her, but they danced away from her blow. They continued to stare, making her almost wish they spoke, even if it meant a maddening jumble of voices in her head.
Brathe stepped up next to her. She kept him close to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn’t get too enthusiastic. Over the months of their partnership, their proximity resulted in a measure of respect and turned him into something of a confidant. Praxia trusted his judgment, if not his restraint.
As they crouched on the hunting trail, Brathe tugged at his dark beard. His other hand remained on his blade, and he was too professional to draw his eyes away from the trail, but Praxia could almost hear his mind churning.
“Out with it,” she snapped.
“You didn’t need to do that,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper. “They woulda come, just a bit nervous since it’s a Herald and all. Probably thought we were starting smaller.”
“There’s no point. The Heralds are the target, and just the Heralds. If I had my way, no one else would get hurt.”
“And what if someone stands between you and this Herald?”
Paxia didn’t hesitate. “Then we cut them down.”
That brought a grin to Brathe’s face, and he rolled his neck from one side to the other. Despite her purpose in being here, Paxia meant what she said. She didn’t want harm to come to the innocent townsfolk, some of whom she might recognize. What had happened to her wasn’t their fault. They didn’t put her under constant watch, make her ostracized and an outsider, all the while pretending she didn’t exist. They didn’t knowingly make everyone forget what she could do and make her question her own sanity.
What did the Companions make her forget?
Paxia drew in a deep breath and growled as she exhaled through her nose. Her magic. They forced her to forget about her magic. And now it was happening again. For the last couple of years, that had been her identity, and now it was being wiped clean. The atrocities committed by the Companions continued.
She recited the mantras taught to her by her first tutor, moving her lips without making a sound as she went over the words, hoping to use them to reinforce her mind. It reminded her of being on a splintering raft and snatching at pieces, hoping it stayed together until her journey finished.
Hooves pounding against the dirt forced her attention back to her surroundings. She crouched down, using the trees and foliage to hide as the hunting party rode past. As the group of eight reached the next bend on the hunting trail, they pulled up short in a wild collection of whinnies and curses as the rest of Paxia’s crew barred their passage. Paxia stepped out into the middle of the trail behind the hunters, Brathe at her side. The pair formed a wall across the road leading home, a barrier made all that much more formidable since there were only two of them.
The villagers on horseback carried bows with arrows held against the grip. Several of them dropped their weapons as they wrestled with their mounts. When the chaos settled, they noticed the ring of bandits with crossbows and bows of their own. A few of them twirled their mounts around, looking for any sign of escape or weakness in the ambush.
“Happy Sovvan-night to you,” Paxia spoke, calling their attention. “Those of you still holding onto your arms, drop them now. We have no interest in harming you.”
