Part Three
by
~Chapter Five~
Rising
early, Azhani slipped on her mostly dry clothes and limped over to the
stardancer’s room.She raised her
fist to knock then decided she would just peek in, and see if Kyrian were
awake.The door was unlocked, and
she made a mental note to remind the stardancer to lock it at night.
Kyrian
was awake, the shutters on her window open wide to allow in the morning
sunlight.Clad only in a short, pale
green tunic, the stardancer was involved in a strenuous workout.Pale
skin rippled over lean muscles as she easily moved through a series of
exercises that fell somewhere between dance and meditation.
Having
spent a few years studying with the monks at Y’len, Azhani was familiar
with the ritual.Kyrian’s skill and
control in the art was nothing short of amazing, especially in one as young
as the stardancer.Mesmerized by
the grace in the stardancer’s movements, Azhani could only watch as Kyrian
executed a flawless spinning kick that would have knocked an opponent through
the window.
When
Azhani leaned her crutch against the stardancer’s bed and stepped in to
throw the counter strikes to the exercises, Kyrian automatically adjusted
her speed and skill to accommodate the warrior’s injury.As
they worked out, the calm sounds of early morning allowed each woman to
concentrate on her opponent.Everything
was going well until Azhani tried a bit of fancy footwork, lost her balance
and fell.
“Ouch.Damn.”The
warrior reached down and rubbed her leg.After
their bath the night before, Kyrian had decided to let the warrior use
just the crutch to walk.Without
the splints for support, the muscles complained bitterly about the rough
treatment.
Instantly,
the stardancer was kneeling next to her, running warm hands over the bare
leg, checking for signs of injury.“Sorry
about that,” Kyrian murmured, wincing at the new bruise already purpling
Azhani’s ankle.She began to hum
softly, her hands flaring up in a soft yellow glow.
“You
don’t have to do that,” Azhani said gruffly.“I
can handle a sprained ankle.”
“I
know, but I want to,” Kyrian replied.
Azhani
shook her head ruefully.“Why are
you doing this, Kyrian?Why are you
helping a murderer?”
Abruptly,
the stardancer’s song ceased.Looking
up and meeting the warrior’s hard blue eyes, Kyrian said, “Because you’re
not a murderer, Azhani.A killer,
yes – I know you’ve killed.In defense
of Y’dan, or in defense of yourself, I know you’ve taken lives, but I do
not believe the woman who rescued me, the woman who treats me with such
deference could have killed in cold blood.So,
even if you don’t want to tell me your story, you’re stuck with me.”Standing,
the stardancer rubbed her hands on her thighs and sighed.“I’d
like to be your friend, Azhani.Will
you let me?”She reached her hand
out, waiting for the warrior to take it.
Azhani
looked up into Kyrian’s face.Seeing
only a gentle, welcoming smile, she accepted the other woman’s hand, allowing
the stardancer to help her to stand.“All
right, we’ll give it a try,” she said tersely.“I’m
not an easy person to like, Kyrian, and I can’t always promise-“
“I
don’t want any promises, Azhani.I
just want us to stop crashing heads over every decision.Here,
you’ll need this.”Kyrian bent to
retrieve Azhani’s crutch.Stepping
close to hand it to the warrior, she smiled as the warrior took it and
shoved it under her arm, obviously grateful for its support.
“Thanks,” Azhani muttered, nostrils
flaring as she caught the scent of the stardancer’s sweat-sheened body.No!Remember
your beloved, Ylera?The
heady burst of attraction faded almost instantly, replaced by the dark,
fiery anger that burned ceaselessly in her soul.Arris
had laughed at her tears, watching her from the outside of the cell door
and mocking her weakness.Hatred
swelled, and Azhani clamped down on the emotion, not wanting Kyrian to
be exposed to that darkness.
Unaware
of the rapid emotions streaming across Azhani’s face, Kyrian said, “You
know how to fight like one goddess trained.Have
you studied with the monks of Y’len?”Wrinkling
her nose as she exchanged her tunic for the warmer crimson robes and brown
leather boots, she added, “We need to make sure we buy enough extra clothes
so that we’re not having to wear wet clothes all the time.”
“Yes,
but it was a lifetime ago,” Azhani replied, shaken from her dark reverie.Gripping
the crutch, she said, “Come on, we’ve got a long day ahead of us.”
By
midmorning, Azhani’s bartering skills had bought them a rickety cart and
half the supplies they would need to survive the winter.The
gold from the kidnapper had gone far, but not quite far enough.Wondering
if the stardancer would forgive her for getting hurt again, Azhani started
heading toward the edge of town, where the rowdier element spent their
days.
“Azhani,
where are you going?” Kyrian asked, halting the warrior in her tracks.She
had been staring at the Barton hospice contemplatively but had noticed
when the dark skinned woman began limping off toward the seedier section
of town.
“I-“
“Never
mind.I think that hospice across
the way is Astariun.I’m going to
find out, so, don’t go anywhere, okay?” Kyrian put her hands on her hips
and gave the warrior a stern glare.
“Okay,”
the warrior meekly agreed.
Smiling,
the stardancer went across to the stone and timber building and went inside.Azhani
frowned, wondering why the stardancer was suddenly so interested in the
place.Then she shrugged and turned
away, reaching out to pat Arun on the nose.The
horse had been hitched to the wagon right after its purchase to get the
gelding used to pulling its weight.
“Maybe
she’s decided she likes it here, hey boy?” she muttered as Arun nosed her
hands for attention.“Yeah, maybe.If
that’s the case, I won’t have to go get my face smashed in after all.I
can live off of what’s in the cart.”The
cart!Oh shit, how the hell am I
going to get that home?Arun belongs
to Kyrian, and he’ll be staying with her...Astarus’
balls!Some demented looking donkey
I’ll be, hauling the wagon down the road!Arun
shoved his nose toward her pouch, hunting for treats.Laughing,
she pulled out the carrot she had hidden there earlier and fed it to him.
Finely honed senses caused the warrior
to simultaneously turn her head and fling out her arm, neatly catching
a thrown object.A pouch, heavy with
coin, fit snugly in her palm.She
looked up to see the grinning stardancer jog across the street.
Slung
from Kyrian’s left shoulder was a heavily filled haversack, and she had
a large roll of dark crimson fabric balanced on the other shoulder.
“Did
you find what you were looking for?” Azhani asked curiously.
“Yep.Did
you know that the hospice is run by a couple of doctors from Y’skan?” Kyrian
asked.
“Yeah, I remember when they first arrived.A lot of people used to die of the coughing sickness during the winter, but after the Y’skani came, no one died.” The warrior looked over at the hospice, and smiled sadly in memory.“They saved a lot of people.”
“They’re
not Astariun, but there’s a starseeker in residence.I
turned in my marks and got my stipend.”She
nodded at the pouch in Azhani’s hand.“I’m
afraid I’m not a big spender, so, there was quite a bit to collect.It
should be enough to finish buying our supplies, don’t you think?I’d
really rather not eat Arun’s oats and hay.”
Azhani
hefted the pouch again.Even if it
were full of copper, there had to be at least six months worth of the stardancer’s
stipend in there.“I can’t...”
A
warm finger brushed over her lips.“Yes,
you can.I pay my own way, warrior.Now,
I think our next stop was the blacksmith’s shop, right?We
need nails and bracing, if I remember correctly.”
Azhani
nodded dumbly, unable to come up with a reason why she should deny the
money.As they walked toward the
sound of ringing metal, she realized that she no longer even wanted to.Kyrian
was staying.Yeah, I think
I like that.
%%%
I
never did buy a sword,the
warrior thought as she pulled up her blankets and settled into the bed
sleepily.Tomorrow, they would leave
Barton behind and return to her father’s cottage and begin the work that
would restore the battered building to a place that would weather the winter
storms.
In
the dark, she could barely make out the shape of her new coat of studded
leather.The armor had been her one
extravagant purchase.It had hung
on the wall at the smith’s, the steel studs glowing silver from the light
of the forge.Reverently, she had
fingered the circular studs, wondering what she could promise the smith
in exchange for the beautifully made coat.
Kyrian
had noticed how the warrior lingered over the armor and had quietly spoken
to the smith about its price.Azhani
didn’t know that the armor had been made for the blacksmith’s son.The
boy had been badly gored by a wild boar early the previous summer.The
Y’skani doctors could do nothing for the young man, so he had lain for
nearly two seasons, dying of a slowly festering wound.
Hearing
about the young man’s injury, Kyrian had immediately offered to heal him.The
blacksmith was all too willing to let the stardancer see his son, and after
six candlemarks of singing and chanting, the boy would not only live, he
would walk again.The man’s gratitude
had been immediate and gracious.He
offered to give the armor to the warrior, cost free.
Neither
Kyrian nor Azhani were willing to accept the coat without paying for it,
so a token amount was agreed upon.It
was still more than Azhani felt they could afford, but the stardancer had
wordlessly handed over the gold.
For
a first gift, it was a strange one.Yet,
there was something so right about Kyrian stepping in and making sure Azhani’s
back was protected.She smiled, feeling
another tiny crack break in the wall around her heart.
They
would winter together, and in spring, she would say good-bye to her new
friend and travel to Y’Syr and see if Ylera’s eerily prescient conditioning
paid out.
“Again, my love.Say them again, so I know you have them,” her beautiful lover instructed, drawinglong fingers down her jaw.
“Tellyn Jarelle.Morvith Aneswyth and Nara Vell,” Azhani repeated gamely, turning her head and capturing a wandering finger between her teeth.She sucked on the digit briefly before letting it go and asking, “But what do they mean, my love?”
“They are names, my heart.Names of my friends who one day, may be your friends.”A brief flash of pure sadness flickered in the elven woman’s eyes before being overshadowed by a smile of pure adoration.“Someday, if you have need, you will go to Y’Syria and you will find them.When you do, tell them my name and show them this symbol.”Ylera turned Azhani’s hand over and sketched a design into the skin, chanting softly under her breath.The rune glowed and hovered above the surface, then sank into the warrior’s hand, leaving lighter colored lines in the skin.Soon, even they vanished, but when Azhani flexed her hand, the lines briefly reappeared.
Ylera smiled and kissed her lover gently.“Whatever aid you require, they will give, and more.”
“But why wouldn’t I just ask you, Ylera?” Azhani asked curiously.“Or were you planning on leaving me?”
“Of course not, my love, but fate and the gods have a way of conspiring to make our lives interesting.I would rather you were prepared for any eventuality than to have you show up in my land friendless,” she explained gently, pressing soft lips into the hollow of Azhani’s throat and stilling further questions with her insistent, loving touch.
Hot
tears pricked at Azhani’s eyes and she angrily dashed them away.You
couldn’t prepare me for your death, though, could you beloved?
The
still silence of the room mocked her in answer.
%%%
Lying
in bed, staring at the darkened ceiling, Kyrian sighed and rolled fretfully
onto her side.The stardancer couldn’t
sleep.The truce between Azhani and
herself had grown into a budding friendship over the three days they had
spent in Barton.Tomorrow, they would
leave the trader’s town and head back to the warrior’s homestead, to spend
winter together.
It was almost romantic, and Kyrian found herself looking forward to the solitude with an eagerness that surprised her.Romance.Goddess, Kyr, get your mind out of the bedroom will you?Azhani’s a friend, not some pretty wench you can charm for a night or two of pleasure!
She
blushed, thinking of the many invitations she had received from two of
the barmaids.Though she had turned
them both down, she hadn’t realized until that moment it was because she
was attracted to Azhani.Kyrian sighed
again.Instead of the demon everyone
claimed, she had found Azhani to be a person – a woman with a deep stain
on her soul that called out to be healed.As
one of Astariu’s Own, the stardancer was drawn to that cry like iron to
a lodestone.Wondering what it would
be like to kiss the warrior until she saw stars, would not cure what troubled
Azhani.
“This
isn’t fair,” she whispered into the empty room.“I’m
not supposed to fall for my patients, damn it!”
Since
then, Kyrian had tried every meditation technique she knew to stuff her
raging hormones into a box and then lock that box away in a deep, dark
closet in her heart.It had taken
some doing, because her body was very reluctant to let go of its favorite
new fantasy.
She
realized some mild success when, after dinner, they had walked up to their
rooms.Standing in the hall, Azhani
wished the stardancer goodnight, and gave her a gentle, sweet smile.Instead
of inflaming, it touched Kyrian that the normally dour warrior would gift
her with such a treasure of emotion.
Something
within the stardancer clicked and she decided right then and there that
Azhani’s friendship would be a jewel that she would treasure, not cheapen
with lustful thoughts.Kyrian still
felt the attraction, though, and it drove her to distraction.Little
things about Azhani got to her, like the warrior’s low, thrumming voice,
or her badly tangled, soft black hair.
The
stardancer sighed and threaded her fingers into her own, curly reddish
blonde locks.She loved Azhani’s
hair, it was so thick and dark that she just wanted to reach her hands
out and twine the tangled strands around her fingers.Kyrian
closed her eyes, imagining how it would feel.Azhani
would look up at her, her blue eyes so bright and clear, like the midsummer
sky, and Kyrian would want to drown in them.Her
fingers, allowed free rein, would sift through the warrior’s hair, delighting
in the crinkly soft feel of the sable strands.
Biting her lip as her heart rate increased
dramatically, the stardancer firmly said, “Friends, Kyr, friends.That’s
what you’re going to be, nothing more.Best
put those thoughts away in a nice, strong box and forget about them, before
your heart gets broken.”
Oddly,
the words, spoken aloud, did more to calm her errant thoughts than a thousand
silent remonstrances had.Stripping
the attraction of any emotional connection, made it seem base and unworthy
of the woman she admired.Azhani
deserved more than a lovesick, scatterbrained stardancer’s misplaced affections.
“I
can do this,” she said, turning over once more and pulling the blankets
up to her chin.“I will be her friend.”Friends,
yeah, I like that.I haven’t had
a friend since Ylera... goddess, Ylera... I still need to know... Did you
kill her, Azhani?Because I’m not
sure I could forgive you for that...With
that troubling thought, Kyrian drifted off to sleep.
~Chapter Six~
The
sky was bleakly gray when they left Barton.Heavy,
dark clouds rolled ominously overhead and Kyrian was doubly grateful for
the extra warmth of her new clothes.She
looked at the road ahead and sent a prayer of relief that the trip would
take them less than a day to get home.Azhani
was in the back, cushioned by the huge pile of goods in the bed of the
cart.As they had packed, Kyrian
had noticed that the warrior was starting to favor her newly healed leg,
and had suggested that she ride with her leg stretched out, to give it
a rest.
Cold,
freezing wind whipped down the road, chilling Kyrian’s fingers as they
gripped the reins.Shivering, she
reached under the seat and pulled up her new fur-lined gloves and slipped
them on.They were a present from
Azhani.The warrior had given them
to her just before they had left and Kyrian knew that the last of their
gold had gone to pay for them.As
they rode out of town, the stardancer noticed that the warrior’s eyes lingered
on every sword they passed, which made her feel bad for not turning over
the blade she had discovered in the shed.
At
the time, it had seemed like the right thing to do.Some
strange intuition kept the stardancer from giving the warrior a weapon
so potent as a sword.Or
maybe I was just scared she would use it on me...It
was too late, now, to change that.She
had the blade with her, though.For
the trip to Barton, she had rolled it up in her bedroll and now it was
hidden just under the driver’s seat, still cocooned in its sheath of ancient
silk.
Comfortably
seated in the bed of the cart, Azhani dozed, lulled by the steady, even
pace of the gelding.Kyrian expertly
guided the horse down the road, avoiding the larger ruts and stones, allowing
the warrior to nap.The heavy chill,
coupled with the dark clouds boiling overhead told the warrior that snow
was on the horizon.Perhaps even
as soon as that evening or the next day, the world would once again be
wrapped in white.Sighing contentedly,
the warrior tugged her blankets closer and snuggled into the warm bed of
flour sacks.
Azhani
listened to the sound of Arun’s hooves clip clopping on the dry ground,
the even beat mixing pleasantly with the rustle of animals and birds in
the trees and bushes.Overhead, she
could see the lazy flight of an eagle, searching for a bit of food to take
home to its warm shelter.The scent
of sandalwood drifted over and she smiled, recalling the bath that she
and the stardancer had shared.
Friendship...
that was the magical talisman that the stardancer had offered, and greedily,
Azhani had accepted it.Now, as they
traveled homeward, she found herself hoping that the winter would temper
their hasty bond into something that would make Kyrian want to stay.
It
would not be easy to open up to Kyrian.Even
the thought of talking about her story made Azhani queasy.She
could feel the boiling darkness within her, raging as it ached to claw
its way out and take over.The Banshee
wanted to be freed.She wanted to
run wild and carve a channel a mile wide for the river of blood that killing
Arris and his toadies would spill.Azhani
had to fight to keep that darkness at bay, because it would consume everything
and everyone in its path, and not even the beautiful young stardancer would
be able to escape.
If
she were wise, she would spend the winter with Kyrian and then send her
on her way.That would be the right
and best thing to do.Making up her
mind, Azhani nodded and steeled her will.The
stardancer would stay for the winter and then, when the spring rains came
and the northern road to Y’Syr opened up, the warrior would safely escort
Kyrian to Y’len.After that, she
would turn toward Y’Syria, and to Ylera’s promise of help.
The
tiny, almost imperceptible ache that threaded through her stomach was probably
from the amount of porridge she had eaten for breakfast.Azhani
shifted once more and fell into a deeper sleep.
%%%
Taking
a deep draft of cool water from her waterskin, Kyrian rubbed her eyes and
looked down the road.They had been
traveling for several candlemarks.Above,
weak sunlight had pushed through the clouds to brighten the day.It
was almost time to wake Azhani and stop for lunch.Looking
over her shoulder, she smiled at the childlike peacefulness of the warrior’s
face in sleep.
Kyrian
was glad that she had taken the time to talk to Paul, the innkeeper of
the Barton Inn.He was more than
willing to share news with her.When
Azhani was busy purchasing supplies, the stardancer had sat at the bar
and spent a few coins on ale and talk.
According
to the garrulous innkeeper, things in Y’dan were the same.Arris
was slowly increasing the boundaries of the law, introducing new sanctions
and restrictions that, when taken separately, seemed to be very beneficial
to the populous.Hearing them listed
together made Kyrian’s skin crawl.
The
most disturbing trend was the alienation of the non-humans.Y’dani
elves and dwarves, residents of the kingdom for years, were suddenly being
forced to pay taxes, or buy special permits, just to live in the cities
and towns.Non-human goods were inspected
twice as much as that of humans, and non-humans could only sell their products
on certain days of the week.
Many
of them had already left, packing what they could and getting out of Y’dan
even though travel in the winter was hard.Y’mar
and Y’Syr both reported a steady influx of Y’dani non-human refugees.Half-elves
were also being targeted, only for them, it was much worse.Not
only were their movements regulated and their wares overtaxed, but those
half-elves who had held high paying jobs suddenly found themselves demoted
or out of a job.When those same
half-elves would go elsewhere for employment, there would be no work.
With
many of the non-humans already gone, the half-elves were sure to follow,
leaving Y’dan a land of humans.A
chill ran up Kyrian’s spine as she recalled the bartender’s whispered words.
“Aye,
lass.‘Tis a good thing, I be thinking,
that you and yer friend be not in that place, now.I’m
a thinking that the new king’s not cut from the same cloth as his Gods
beloved father, now.And I be a-thinkin’
that the good lords and ladies of the Council are findin’ that out, too.”
The
older man had looked around the empty inn, and then leaned forward to add
something more.
“They say that our Azhani killed the elven ambassador when she went ‘n lost her mind at Banner Lake, but I’m a thinkin’ that mebbe there’s less truth an’ more tale to that story, cuz ain’t no one as been there can ‘member the lady’s face among the dead.I lets ol’ Takk tell his bloody poems cuz the customers like him, but I knew ‘Zhani as a child and well remember when her da would bring her with him to trade furs.An’ lemme tell you, stardancer, that I don’ believe for one half second that Rhu’len DaCoure’s little girl is the monster them fancy tales say she is!”
Kyrian leaned closer to the bartender and nodded solemnly.“I’ve been caring for her for a few days now, and I haven’t seen any signs of the ‘demon’ your Takk speaks of.”
“’N
you won’t, neither!‘Zhani’s a good
girl,” Paul beamed happily, wiping out a glass and filling it with a draft
of cool ale and then setting it on the bar in front of her.“But
you mind and not spread ‘round who she be.There
be unfriendly ears in Barton, and don’t think I didn’t notice the girl
a-limpin’!”
Having
someone refer to the powerful, strong willed warrior as a “girl” had almost
been enough to send Kyrian into paroxysms of giggles.She
smiled in reflex, considering how darkly Azhani would frown if she heard
herself referred to in that manner.
Hearing
that no one had seen Ylera at Banner Lake that day had confirmed her suspicions
that there was more to Azhani’s story than what the heralds and bards had
told.If Azhani wasn’t guilty of
the princess’ murder, if, say, someone else had killed her for his own
reasons and blamed it on the warrior to keep the Y’Syran army away, then
Kyrian knew that everything else attributed to the “traitorous Warleader”
was suspect.
Now
more than ever, she had to hear the warrior’s story.Taking
one last glance at the peacefully sleeping woman, she clucked her tongue
and sent Arun down the road once more.
A
cloud crossed the sun, darkening the day.Kyrian
sighed and whispered, “Guess I’ll just have to prove to her that she can
trust me, eh Arun?”As they traveled,
she scanned the edge of the road, seeking a convenient place to pull off
and have lunch.
Azhani
came awake as Arun’s pace changed.Rubbing
her eyes sleepily, she judged that she had slept for at least four candlemarks,
far longer than she had planned.As
she yawned, stretching out sleep-cramped muscles, an unexpected flash of
light caught her attention.Standing,
she strung her bow and knocked an arrow quickly, hunting the trees for
her target.
Kyrian
had just spotted a clearing when Azhani’s sudden movement caused her to
pull up on Arun’s reins and turn around.Seeing
the warrior’s militant stance, she dropped the reins and reached for her
baton nervously.An electric tension
filled the air; crackling off the warrior’s body in waves as she scanned
the trees swiftly and then, let her arrow fly.
A
muffled scream followed by a body falling from a tree signaled that Azhani’s
arrow had found its mark.Men poured
from the forest around them, yelling and shouting and waving deadly looking
weapons.Kyrian watched in stunned
amazement, as the warrior’s hands became a blur, knocking and loosing two
more arrows in quick succession before she jumped off the cart, landing
with a stifled groan of pain.
Frozen
in place by fright, Kyrian could only watch as the first of the bandits
reached the cart.Rolling the bow
in a figure eight, Azhani used the weapon as a staff, blocking the bandit’s
swords easily.There was a sharp
twang, and a thin streak of blood crept down Azhani’s cheek, where the
bowstring had hit her.
A
filthy hand reached for the stardancer and a raspy voice commanded, “C’mere
pretty thing, Skavitz got use for you.”
Cold
dread clutched at Kyrian’s guts and the weight of her baton seemed to double
as she sat, paralyzed.Dirty fingers
brushed the hem of her robe, reaching under the fabric to stroke her thinly
clothed leg.
“Mm,
gots us a nice one, we do.”The man
licked his lips, tightening his grasp.
Panic exploded, sending Kyrian scrabbling
back on the seat, her baton falling to the floor, useless.Terrifying
memory slashed her vision, overlaying the bandit’s face with the shattered
remains of another.
“No,”
she whispered hoarsely, blinking against the haze that fogged around her,
cutting her off from reality.Kyrian
flailed wildly about.The cool hardness
of the baton intruded on her fear and she grasped it, striking out blindly,
scoring a light hit to the bandit’s shoulder.
Shaking himself and backing away, he
growled, “Got claws, eh?Well then,
let’s be seeing how you like this!” A whip uncoiled and struck out at the
stardancer, the spiked tip ripping the tender flesh of her throat.
A
strangled yelp of pain erupted behind her, and Azhani spun, frowning angrily
when she saw the man who was attempting to molest her new friend.Driving
the heel of her foot into her opponent’s knee then sucker punching him
in the skull when he bent over, she yelled, “Run, Kyrian!”
The
warrior drew back and threw her bow at the man attacking the stardancer.The
long shaft of stout yew cracked into the bandit’s skull, sending him staggering
away from the cart, cursing and clutching at his bleeding head.
Snapped
out of her funk by Azhani’s shout, Kyrian watched as the weaponless warrior
took on the four remaining bandits.Running
sounded like such a good idea to the stardancer.Killing
that man in Myr had torn Kyrian up so badly that she didn’t think she could
defend herself and if she stayed, then Azhani would have to worry about
the both of them.The stardancer
sheathed her baton and took up Arun’s reins, preparing to urge him on when
one of the bandits pulled out a dagger and threw it at Azhani.
The
warrior easily dodged the knife, but took a hard blow to her kidneys from
a wickedly studded club.Damn
it, Kyr, move!Viciously
forcing her body to action, Kyrian reached under the seat and grabbed the
silk-wrapped sword.
As she shucked the fabric, the stardancer
shouted, “Azhani!” and tossed the blade.
The newly freed sword tumbled end over
end.Blazing in the sunlight, the
blade seemed alive with fire as it arced across the clearing.Blinded
momentarily, the combatants ceased fighting.
Metal slapped flesh and laughter rippled
across the road.An eerie, bone-chilling
wail erupted from Azhani’s throat, startling the gelding.The
hollow keening sound caused the hairs on Kyrian’s neck to stiffen.So
this is why they called her the Banshee...she
thought, shivering suddenly.
Unaffected
by the warrior’s cry, the bandits resumed their attack, bent on killing
the wickedly grinning woman.
“Oh
yeah, bring it on, boys.I need this,”
Azhani shouted, laughing merrily and dodging their best swings effortlessly.Her
blade spun in tightly controlled arcs, each lightening strike biting deep
into dirty flesh.
Blood
sprayed, dappling the warrior’s clothes and face and she only laughed harder
and threw her head back, letting out another one of those terrifying screams.Shuddering
again, Kyrian turned away, unable to watch the carnage.She
could easily believe that this was the woman who had been named the “Banshee
of Banner Lake”.This was the warrior
who could tear through hundreds of men, bathing in their blood gloriously,
all without pausing for breath.She
was awesome, and glorious, and terrifying all in one package.A
headless body toppled to the ground and Kyrian nearly fainted.
Clamping
her teeth down on the bile that threatened to rise, the stardancer steeled
her courage and jumped down from the cart.The
whip-wielding bandit had shaken off the earlier blow and was slowly approaching
her once more.Braided leather flicked
out, coiling around her baton.He
yanked, pulling her within his reach and struck, punching her in the jaw.
Spitting
blood, Kyrian shook off the blow and struck back, cracking him in the solar
plexus and dancing away when the whip went slack.He
doubled over, clutching his chest and wheezing in pain.The
stardancer finished him, delivering a solid rap to the back of his head
with her baton.As soon as he was
down, she checked his pulse, reassuring herself that he was alive.A
steady thrum answered her questing fingers and she sighed heavily and pulled
out a length of super strong twine to bind his hands.
When
she was done, she stood to help Azhani, and ended up watching in speechless
awe as the warrior darted around the wild swings of the remaining bandit’s
club and cleaved him nearly in half with one stroke of the sword.
The
warrior stepped back and watched the man fall, the pieces of his body falling
apart as they hit the ground.A primal
snarl twisted Azhani’s face as she looked up and into Kyrian’s shocked
face.
Kyrian
staggered back under the force of the warrior’s powerful blue gaze.Slowly,
she sheathed her baton and held her hands out to the warrior.
“Azhani?It’s
over,” she called out soothingly.
The
conscious bandit grabbed his bound buddy and dragged him off, running toward
the trees in an attempt to get away from the blood-maddened warrior.Since
it was far more important to break through the warrior’s battle haze, Kyrian
let them go.
Keeping
her eyes locked with Azhani’s, she took a step closer and closer until
the other woman blinked and let her sword droop to the ground.The
stardancer breathed a heavy sigh of relief and then dashed over to the
side of the road and began vomiting violently.
Azhani
watched Kyrian jog off with a bemused expression on her face.The
coppery tang of blood speckled the air around her and she looked down to
see her new clothes liberally spattered with it.She
wiped her face and was stunned to realize that it was coated in blood and
gore.Quickly checking herself, she
was relieved to find that, although she was painted in the thick, rapidly
congealing crimson fluid, none of it was hers.A
tiny cut on her cheek was the only injury she had sustained and it was
so small that it would be gone within days.
You
can still slaughter ‘em like pigs, she
thought to herself in disgust as she bent over to clean her blade on one
of the bandit’s trouser legs.She
was even more grateful now for the coat of armor, because it was all that
had stood between her and the man with the wicked mace.The
area hurt and she winced, knowing it would probably ache for a while.
She
stood and tried to sheath the sword, then stopped herself.Wait...
I didn’t take this from one of them... so... where did it come from?Curious
now, she examined the blade, surprise coloring her features when she recognized
it.
“My
father’s sword,” she whispered haltingly, looking at the blade with a new
reverence.
It
was on the tip of her tongue to ask the stardancer where she had found
it when she realized the young woman was incapacitated.Kyrian
was still kneeling, her sides heaving uncontrollably.Azhani
took three steps toward the scarlet robed figure then stopped, realizing
the last thing the sickened woman needed to see was her blood drenched
body.The blade in her hands became
a hateful weight.
Azhani
glanced down at the finely wrought blade and considered tossing it into
the forest to rot, but resolutely grasped it tighter, feeling the wire
wrap of the hilt bite into her palm.Carefully,
she slid the blade into her belt, avoiding the razor sharp edge, and then
slowly began to search the bodies of their attackers.She
knew this type well – just the kind of scum that she and her men had chased
out of Y’dan so many years ago, when she was just a young circuit rider
with nothing more exciting in her future than a hard bed of dirt and rock.
The
warrior pocketed the few coins that the bandits had in their pouches, having
long since given up the fanciful notions of “honor” and “chivalry” when
faced with the real horrors of hunger and disease.What
goods that came from the dead could be used to feed her and her companion,
and maybe, spread a little cheer into the hand of a grubby child or winter-starved
adult, the next time she was near civilization.
Weapons,
on the other hand, were at a premium for her.Daggers,
knives, anything the dead men had, ended up on the cart.Anything
not deemed good enough would be melted down and used to patch pots, make
horseshoes, arrowheads or nails.Everything
else could be cleaned, sharpened and added to her personal arsenal.
By
the time she had finished looting the bodies, Kyrian was back from the
roadside and only slightly green around the edges.
“Wh-what’ll
we do with them?” the stardancer asked as she took a sip of water from
her almost empty skin.
Azhani
stared at the corpses, considering.She
had thought to leave them lying as they were, but she realized that probably
wasn’t the best of ideas.Disease
was no one’s friend, and rotting bodies drew unsavory things.
“There’s
a spade in the cart.It shouldn’t
take long to bury them all.”In truth,
it would add several candlemarks to their journey and they would not likely
make it back to the cottage before it was very late, but it was worth it
to see Kyrian’s shadowed face clear.”
The
warrior stripped off her armor and rolled up her sleeves, preparing to
get to work.Kyrian stepped closer
and ran a hand through her disheveled curls.
“Can
I help?” she asked softly.“Were
you injured?”
“No,
it’s okay, Kyrian, I can do this, I’m okay.See,”
she turned, pulling on her shirt, “No holes.Take
care of yourself and Arun.”The warrior
nodded at the horse, whose left flank had taken a whip strike.Amazingly,
the gelding had not bolted, but had stayed still, placidly waiting for
his mistress to come and fix his sore backside.
The
burial took several candlemarks, and by the time she was finished, Azhani
ached in a dozen places, not the least of which was the fiery lance of
pain in her side.Goddess,
I hope I didn’t break a rib...
As
she surveyed the newly turned earth, a sense of satisfied accomplishment
seeped through her and left her feeling like she had done her duty.Toward
the end, Kyrian joined her and helped her to drag the bodies of the men
to the trench and roll them in.The
stardancer hadn’t spoken aloud, but Azhani could see her lips move, singing
the prayers for the dead as she worked.
It’s
so easy to forget she’s a priest, Azhani
thought wonderingly.Maybe
that’s why she can forgive so easily – it’s part of the job description.She
quietly watched as the stardancer sprinkled several drops of fragrant oil
on the soil then poured out a libation of water.
Kyrian’s eyes fluttered shut as she
completed the ritual.It was the
first time she had done it since that awful day in the Y’Syran forest,
and it seemed oddly fitting that her prayers were for the souls of bandits
once again.The stardancer’s lips
parted and a soft, wordless tune began to fill the air.
Azhani
recognized the song, having heard it more times than not.The
familiar, haunting tones brought back memories.Faces
and voices, laughter and tears of the men and women who had fought and
died with her came gliding back, carried by the notes of the tune.
Her own, bloody musk called up the memory
of her father’s burial.Rhu’len had
died saving a child from the clutches of a demon, the last time the foul
creatures had come up from the bowels of their hellish homes, hungry for
the flesh of mortals.Lastly, as
the song faded away, Azhani remembered her beloved Ylera, who had not been
sung on to the heavens by a priest, but by the warrior herself.The
broken, tuneless warble had echoed pitifully throughout the dungeons.As
he stood outside the cell, Arris had laughed and taunted her about her
inability to carry a tune.
Azhani
finally turned away, drained and saddened, yet ready to leave the graves
behind her and head home.
A
hand on her shoulder made her turn back, and she was briefly enveloped
in a warm hug.Awkwardly, she hugged
the stardancer back, patting her gently.Kyrian
was shaking, tiny tremors of fear that she could feel were just aftershocks
of a much greater terror.
“You
saved my life,” the stardancer whispered as she clung to Azhani.“Thank
you.”
It
took all of five heartbeats for the warrior to decide that she really,
really liked Kyrian’s hugs.Ah
goddess... it’s been far too long...The
last time anyone had touched her with anything other than contempt had
been... Azhani swallowed and pushed the thoughts away with a massive force
of will.Now was not the time to
mourn.Later, when they were safely
locked behind the doors of her father’s cabin, she would grieve.Then,
she would tell the stardancer her story, and hope that Kyrian would see
the truth in her words.
Letting
go of the warrior was the hardest thing Kyrian had done in a very long
time, but she slowly disengaged, taking deep, calming breaths.“Sorry,”
she murmured, reaching for her robe.“I’m
not usually so clingy.”
Azhani
shrugged and said, “Did you hear me complain?”
Startled,
Kyrian stopped in mid-motion and stared at the warrior.
Grinning,
Azhani said, “Hey, I can like hugs, can’t I?”
“Uh,
sure. I uh, just thought...”
“You
just thought that since I’ve been a grumpy, moody, pain in the ass bitchy
patient, that I’d probably cut your throat for touching me?” Azhani filled
in the blanks.
“Well...”
Kyrian searched for something to say.
“Sorry
to burst your bubble, healer.I like
hugs.I like flowers and children
– not for breakfast, either – and I rather enjoy sunsets too.There,
have I totally spoiled your image of me as a hard-bitten, soulless killer?”
Azhani joked wryly.
“Okay,
no more pigeonholing, got it,” Kyrian said and headed for the cart.“You’ve
always done this, haven’t you?” she asked as she climbed up into the driver’s
seat.“Fight bandits, I mean.”
Azhani
considered Kyrian’s statement.“Among
others, yes.It’s all I ever wanted
to do,” she said, shrugging into her cloak and pulling herself into the
back of the cart.Her armor was too
gory to even consider putting back on.If
those bandits had any more friends, they would have found them by now,
so she felt relatively safe in going without the leather coat’s protection.
The warrior’s nose wrinkled.Her
new clothes now smelled horrible.Blood,
sweat and dirt mingled to create a miasma of death that was far too familiar
to Azhani.It was both comforting
and disturbing.Part of her exulted
in it, reveled in the knowing that she still had the skills, and drive
to be the best and part of her watched another piece of her soul slip away,
given to the service of the sword.
The
sword.Azhani reached over and picked
up her father’s elven made blade – a gift from her mother – and began methodically
cleaning it.She remembered how it
had come to her hand, and calmly she asked, “Where did you get this?”
Kyrian
looked over her shoulder at the warrior and bit her lip.“I
– I found it in that trunk.The same
place I found those clothes?” she answered softly.
The
warrior grunted, then reached for the sheath she had taken from the body
of one of the bandits and began cleaning it, too.“And
you didn’t want me running you through with it in your sleep, is that it?”The
question came lightly, but the words struck like hammer blows.
An
answer hovered at the tip of Kyrian’s tongue, but she couldn’t make the
words come out.No, I never
was afraid of that... I just... oh damn it...Stopping
the cart and dropping the reins, she turned to face Azhani.In
a calm, even voice, she said, “I kept the sword because I didn’t want you
racing out the door to go play the big, brawny warrior while you were still
injured.I am not, by the goddess,
nor ever will I be afraid of you, Azhani Rhu’len!
“Why?”
The warrior’s voice was a breath away from cracking, slivers of it breaking
away and piercing the air between them.
Their
eyes met, green and blue depths that swam and melded, searching for something
hidden in colored pools that was impossible to find.
“I don’t know.Maybe
it’s because, of all the things you could have done that day on the road,
you chose to risk your life to save me.Maybe
it’s because even though it meant losing your only weapon, you readily
stopped that guy from hurting me today, and maybe it’s because no matter
how much you hated it, you sat with me every night in Barton, keeping the
scum away from our table with just a glare.Now,
it’s late, I’m tired and I don’t want to sleep on the ground.Let’s
see about getting back before moonrise.”
Well,
I guess she told you!Azhani
thought, a tiny smile quirking the corner of her mouth.
I’m
gonna throw up again, Kyrian thought,
swallowing hard.Oh goddess,
that was hard.Okay, breathe, Kyr,
breathe.In, out, in, out, that’s
it, she’s not gonna use your head for target practice.The
stardancer silently talked her nerves down and concentrated on keeping
Arun on the road.
“Hungry?”
Azhani asked, fumbling around in a bag for something to eat.
Food.As
in, eating, as in, I didn’t just bury four bodies and a head back there.Okay,
Kyr, you can do this.“Sure,”
the stardancer said, swallowing convulsively.Bread
and jerky were passed forward, as well as a fresh skin of water.Kyrian
picked at the bread and when it didn’t come flying back up, she dug in,
chewing on the jerky and drinking the cool water gratefully.
It
was very late by the time Kyrian turned Arun up the path that would take
them to Azhani’s cottage.The warrior
threw off her covers and jumped down, limping ahead of the cart with her
sword held out at the ready.Kyrian
drew the horse up short, allowing Azhani to search the place and make certain
there was nothing amiss with the cabin.
It
didn’t take long for the warrior to return, carrying a lamp.“All
clear,” she said shortly, stifling a yawn.“I’ve
opened up the shed.We can get Arun
bedded down and carry in the bare necessities.The
rest will keep until morning.”
Tiredly,
Kyrian jumped down from the cart and began to gather the few things they
would need to finish out the night.Azhani
had already gone ahead and when Kyrian came around to the front of the
property, she could see the warrior tying a length of rope across the break
in the fence where a gate once hung.
The
two women worked quickly, dragging in only two loads of things before stripping
down and collapsing exhaustedly on their pallets.
%%%
Azhani
was dreaming.She had to be dreaming,
because Ylera was alive, touching her, kissing her, and brushing long,
golden blonde hair over her bare torso like so many thousands of feathers.
“Goddess,” she murmured, cupping her hand around the elven woman’s narrow face and drawing her up for a long kiss.“What you do to me.”
“What do I do to you, Theodan’s Warleader?” Ylera whispered huskily, drawing her long, tapered fingers down Azhani’s bare torso.
“Everything,” the warrior replied honestly.Her blue eyes glowed in the firelight as they met her lover’s amber yellow ones.
Ylera laughed, wrapping her lover in the musical sound joyfully.“You amuse me so, Azhani, child of Rhu’len.Now, tell me about your mother, darling.”
Azhani closed her eyes and called up the faint, shadowy memories of her elven mother.Small in stature, fine boned like Ylera, but dark, where the ambassador was light.Eyes as green as the plains of Y’Nor in high spring, hair midnight dark, a voice that crooned the softest of lullabies and hands that always soothed away her tears.These were some of the only memories that remained of the woman who had given her life.
“I don’t really remember her,” she finally said.
“Your eyes tell me that you loved her,” Ylera said, a touch of jealousy coloring her tone.“Tell me more,” she commanded, her golden eyes blazing with inner fire.“Tell me of how your father met your mother.”
Azhani looked away, staring into the fire.“You should know that story.It’s nearly the same for all Y’dani half breeds.”
A finger captured the warrior’s cheek and drew her eyes back.“Perhaps so.I would hear from you, what the man who gave you life said in explanation.”
The warleader sighed.“All right.It was the border wars.Y’dan and Y’Syr were bickering over land rights, again.My father was part of a small patrol of Theodan’s men, given to guard a small section of the forest.One day, they came upon a group of elven merchants.
Flying a flag of truce, they stopped to trade news of the other kingdoms.My mother, Ashiani, was the daughter of a merchant in that party.
My father used to say that my mother was so beautiful, she had stolen his heart with a smile.The merchants and the soldiers camped together that night, finding a strange sort of peace under the cover of the trees.They danced many times and shared food from the same plate; drink from the same cup.When my father retired to his tent, my mother followed him.
In the morning, when he found out what his daughter had done, the merchant accused my father of rape.My father had to return to Theodan in shame while my mother was taken back to her family home to live in seclusion.King Theodan never believed my father was guilty of rape, but paid my mother’s family a handsome amount of gold anyway.
Before my father could go and beg for my mother’s release, the demons invaded, sending the kingdoms to war.It was during the war that my mother died – giving birth to me had weakened her, and she was never able to regain her strength.My grandsire, having no wish to raise a half-breed, had me delivered to my father.
Theodan allowed my father to take me to the mountains and let me grow up some before recalling him to Y’dannyv.From that moment on, I was never far away from my father.Even when he would go to Y’Syr to talk of peace, he would bring me with him and turn me over to the monks of Y’len.My father died two years ago in the mountains near his home.He was visiting friends when the demons came down and raided Barton.He saved a little girl, but his own life was the cost.”Azhani’s lips tensed, pressing together tightly as the memories overwhelmed her.Sighing, she looked at Ylera and said, “Is that what you wanted to hear, Ambassador?”
A hard, teasing kiss took Azhani’s breath away.“Yes,” the elven woman said, smiling before giving the warrior another kiss.Sharp teeth nibbled a trail down naked flesh.“I should have known that only great love could produce a great lover like you.”
“Do you love me, Ylera?” Azhani whispered as her lover used every bit of her considerable skill to bring pleasure to the warrior’s body.
The elf purred, nibbling a hip delicately.“I love your body,” she said, sliding her tongue along the crease of thigh and hip.“I love your taste,” she demonstrated her pleasure, taking the warrior’s breath away.A long, lithe form slid up Azhani’s body and whispered, “Do I love you, warrior?As much as I am free to love, yes, I love you, Azhani.Does that please you?”Ylera’s fingers dipped down, stroking relentlessly.
Azhani gasped and panted, “Yes!”
“And you, Azhani, do you love me?” Ylera whispered, continuing to stroke the woman below her, fiercely loving her.
“Oh goddess, yes!I love you!” Azhani cried out helplessly.“I love you, Ylera!”The beautiful elf smiled tenderly and the warrior returned the smile, reaching out to stroke a soft cheek.The skin under her fingers turned bloody and shredded, ruined and ravaged by torturer’s knives.“No,” Azhani whispered.“Ylera!No!Don’t...” the warrior watched helplessly as the fireside scene shifted, becoming the cold dungeon cell where Prince Arris had buried her dreams.
“It’s all your fault, Azhani,” Arris said mockingly, sneering at the dead body of Ambassador Kelani.“If you had only accepted my proposal,” he said wistfully.
Right after his birthday, he had been puffed up by his own importance and eager to please his father by choosing the perfect bride.He had come to Azhani and begged her to fulfill his dreams and rule Y’dan beside him when his father had passed.Gently, the warleader had refused him, thinking that his request was only a device to gain his father’s attention.She had not known of his true feelings, and had laughingly informed him that she planned to wed the ambassador of Y’Syr that winter.
“I loved you, Warleader, why did you not see that?” he added, in a soft voice.It was late and the prince had come to see her while she languished in his dungeon.
Azhani’s nostrils flared, but her eyes remained dead.
A hand appeared on the bars of the prison door.“I would have been content to allow your – liaison – with the elven harlot, Azhani.Why did you deny me?It would have made Father so happy,” he coaxed, staring at her almost pityingly.
“I have no desire to dally with children, Arris,” the warrior said dully.Arris was nearly half the warrior’s age – she had bounced him on her knee as a babe.
Black eyes flashed angrily.“A child?Is that all you see, Warleader?I will show you a child, Azhani.Before I am through, you will see.You will know that you chose wrong, Warleader, and you will regret that choice!Guards!”Arris gestured, and the door was flung open.
Ylera
Kelani’s battered corpse was unceremoniously tossed into the cell, striking
the brick walls with a sickly thud.Arris
smiled wickedly.“Enjoy your last
night with your lover, Azhani Rhu’len, tomorrow you will both feed the
vultures.”
Azhani thrashed to wakefulness, sitting
bolt upright and gasping for breath.Tears
streaked hotly down her cheeks as she searched for the woman who loved
her, but would never again be there.
Watching the warrior through partially
closed eyes, Kyrian felt the overwhelming sadness of the warrior’s loss.She
had wakened to Azhani’s ragged cries of, “Ylera, goddess, no, Ylera!” and
had lain on her pallet, listening to the warrior sob brokenly.
She
cries Ylera’s name like a lover,the
stardancer realized sadly.
The
anguish in Azhani’s grief moved Kyrian deeply and she rolled out of her
bed and crawled over to the warrior’s side.
“Azhani?”
she whispered, tentatively putting a hand on the woman’s arm.Azhani
flinched, but did not immediately pull away.
“She’s
gone,” the warrior whispered brokenly, covering her face with her hands.“She’s
gone and it’s my fault.I killed
her too, Kyrian.Just like I kill
them all.”
Oh
goddess... she killed Ylera... Astariu, please, give me strength... let
me see this through...Kyrian
prayed.As if in answer to her prayers,
she remembered that she still hadn’t heard the whole story.She
had to believe that somewhere, in that tale, would be the reason why Ylera
Kelani had to die.For now, she wrapped
her arms around Azhani and quietly held her, not even letting go when the
warrior stiffened and tried to pull away.
“Shh,”
the stardancer gentled, “You can’t hurt me.”She
wasn’t sure why she had said those words, but they seemed to work, breaking
through the warrior’s last barriers, allowing her to break down and sob.Kyrian
held her, rocking her slowly until the lazy fingers of dawn tickled their
way through the shuttered windows.
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The story and characters of Banshee's Honor are copyright
to the author, 2002.