Part Six
by
~Chapter Eleven~
“I
can’t believe we're finally finished” Kyrian said as she huddled
closer to the fire and sipped at a cup of mulled cider.
Azhani
shrugged.“We worked hard and the
place is small.I’m glad we were
able to make the shed a little larger for Arun.I
thought he was going to do back flips when I widened his stall.”
Kyrian
chuckled at the image of her gelding acting like a circus acrobat.In
truth, the horse had all but danced a jig as Azhani knocked out a wall
on one side of the shed and used some of the supplies they had purchased
in Barton to widen the area.The
building now housed the horse and all their extra supplies comfortably.
In
fact, the entire homestead had been cleaned and repaired.The
main room that served as their sleeping, cooking and sitting area was as
warm as any fine room at an inn and for that, the stardancer was grateful.Outside,
the snow was waist deep and growing every candlemark.
Azhani’s
leg had fully healed and the warrior took full advantage of that fact by
going out almost every day, laying traps and seeking the odd fish that
still swam in the stream that bordered the land around her father’s homestead.
Three
days ago, just before the latest flurry of snow, the warrior had brought
in the carcass of a bear.The animal
had not found enough forage to hibernate and had attacked Azhani as she
sat by the stream, fishing.After
field dressing the meat, the warrior had dragged it home and between them,
she and Kyrian had built racks to cure the hide and the meat.
Leaning
forward, the stardancer stirred the pot of bear stew bubbling merrily on
the fire. “You know, you shouldn’t have to go out for a few days, since
we have all that bear meat now.”
“No,
I suppose not,” mused the warrior, but Kyrian heard the hesitation in her
voice.
“But
you will anyway, won’t you?”She
turned and grinned at her friend.Azhani
looked away.“Oh come on, I know
you by now.You love going out there
in that awful weather and slogging through piles of snow!You’re
as bad as a child, Azhani Rhu’len!” Kyrian teased gently.
When
the warrior didn’t reply, Kyrian sighed softly.She
had pushed too hard again.It happened
far too often for the stardancer’s taste.Their
personalities, while mostly compatible, could run afoul of each other at
the oddest of moments, leaving the air between them colder than the storms
outside.Opening her mouth to apologize,
she was forestalled by Azhani’s voice.
“Yes,
I do like being out there.It reminds
me of the years I spent patrolling the kingdom.I’d
rather be outside, riding under the open sky, than cooped up in a tiny
cottage,” the warrior said quietly.
Kyrian
nodded, accepting the tiny gem of information about her friend silently.
Azhani
stood and paced around the room then reached for one of the practice blades
that lined the wall by the door.“Spar
with me?”
It
was a new habit of theirs, to work out with each other, teaching what each
knew of weapons-work and hand to hand combat.Azhani
was, of course, far more knowledgeable than Kyrian with most weapons, but
the stardancer had the advantage of spending her life learning what the
priests of the goddess called “open fist”, a type of weaponless combat
that relied on using an opponent’s strength against them.
“You
bet!” Kyrian replied, shrugging off her robes and walking over to take
up the short wooden rod that approximated the length and weight of her
baton.
%%%
Wiping
her face, Kyrian looked up at Arun and said, “Sweet goddess, but I wish
you wouldn’t eat so much!”Today
was her day to muck out the gelding’s stall and she had been working hard
for nearly a candlemark.Azhani was
out in front, cutting a walkway from the gate to the front door of the
cabin.The stardancer could hear
the steady, even crunching of the warrior’s shovel as it hit the snow.Smiling,
she took a moment to look out the window and stare appreciatively at the
warrior as she worked.
Clad
only in a short-sleeved tunic and breeches, the warrior’s arms were bared
and the chill had turned the normally dusky brown skin to a pale tan.Sweat
ran down the center of her back, staining a dark line in the light blue
fabric.
Azhani’s
hair was tied back, the multiple braids loosely woven together and then
held off her neck with a thick leather thong.Not
far from where she was digging, the warrior’s sword was stuck in the snow,
within easy reach.Kyrian noticed
that the path had reached the gate and now the warrior was turning around
and digging her way back, making a doubly wide walkway, large enough for
the two of them to walk side by side.
A
puff of warm air made her look up.Arun
stuck his nose over her shoulder and watched Azhani dig.Reaching
up, Kyrian patted the horse’s neck and said, “She’s beautiful, isn’t she
boy?”
As
if in agreement, the horse nodded.
“Yeah.I’m
glad she’s my friend, too.”She nuzzled
the horse, rubbing his soft nose.“You’re
a great friend too, Arun, but Azhani’s special.She
makes me feel... like I’m normal.I
need that, Ar... I need to be normal.”The
gelding lipped her fingers, searching for hidden treats.
“You
want a carrot, boy?Let’s see what
I’ve got in here.”Kyrian laughed
at the tickly sensations and then looked down to search through her belt
pouch.Coming up with a somewhat
leathery carrot, she offered it to the horse.“It’s
all I’ve got, and you’re not getting any more oats until supper.”
Greedily,
Arun snatched up the vegetable and noisily chewed it up.
“Piggy,”
Kyrian teased, making oinking sounds at the horse’s obvious enthusiasm.Taking
one last glance at Azhani, she sighed heavily and put her back into her
work.“I’m so glad there’s only one
of you Arun,” she muttered as she cleaned.
Developing a rhythm, she sifted out
the fouled straw and replaced it with new.Dusk
was turning the sky outside a pale shade of indigo by the time she was
finished.She was just about to stick
the pitchfork into a bale of hay, when a crackling noise outside, echoed
loudly in the shed.
The
regular crunch of Azhani’s shovel had not ceased, so it was not the warrior
she had heard.Suddenly fearful,
the stardancer crept toward the door and peered out.Nothing
but white snow and the dark bulk of the outhouse met her gaze.Passing
it off as the wind, she turned away and drove the pitchfork into a hay
bale, reaching for her crimson robe.
Just
as her fingers brushed the heavy velvet, she was grabbed from behind.Massive,
fur covered arms wrapped around her body.Whatever
held her began to squeeze, crushing the air out of her lungs.A
pungent, foul odor of decay overwhelmed her senses.Scarlet
and black spots began to flash before her eyes as she fought for breath.
Kicking
backwards, the heel of her foot connected with what felt like a knee, causing
the creature to roar deafeningly close to her ears.It
shifted its grip, giving Kyrian a chance to take in a huge gulp of air
and then let it out in a terrified scream.
“Azhani!”
It
roared again, covering the sound of her scream and she flung her head back,
hitting it hard in the chest.Then
she kicked back again, aiming lower and succeeded in driving the side of
her foot into its shin.A bark of
pain burst from its mouth and the grip was loosened.Putting
all her strength into it, Kyrian tore herself free.Jumping
away, she grabbed the pitchfork and turned to face her assailant.
Ugly yellow eyes gazed out from a body
that had been twisted into something evil.Thick,
gray fur curled and tufted around a pig-like snout.It
stood hunched, one shoulder drooping lower than the other and at the end
of its gnarled, misshapen paws, three inch long black claws gleamed in
the weak lamplight.Its nostrils
flared and it lunged for her.
Yelling, Kyrian swung wildly, scoring
a scraping blow along the monster’s head.
When
the creature had burst into the shed, Arun started kicking up a racket.Letting
out a shrill scream, the horse crashed through his gate and raced into
the yard, nearly bowling over Azhani, who was racing toward the shed at
full speed.
The monster charged Kyrian, its arms
reaching out for her.Using the hay
bales as a bridge, the stardancer leapt up and ran over the straw toward
the doorway while the creature flailed about, attempting to grab her.
She
had just made it to the door when a hairy paw wrapped around her ankle
and pulled her down.Dragging her
back inside the shed, the creature crooned its pleasure while she ineffectually
beat at it with the pitchfork.The
monster’s gray fur was soon dappled with yellow ichor as wounds appeared
in its thick, tough hide.
Crying
and shouting, the stardancer tried valiantly to escape, but the monster’s
grip was too tight. It had her half dangling by her ankle and was opening
its mouth to take a bite when a long, piercing wail exploded in the shed.Kyrian
went limp with relief.She had never
heard a more beautiful sound.
Azhani
raced through the door shouting, “Hang on, Kyrian,” and somersaulted over
the beast’s head, swinging her blade down in a powerful arc, severing its
paw.
Freed, the stardancer scrambled backwards,
cowering in a corner of the stall, shaking uncontrollably.Sobbing,
Kyrian wrapped her arms around her knees and tried to pretend that she
was somewhere else.
“Come
on you Twins forsaken piece of shit, come and get me!” the warrior yelled,
leaping down from the bales and striking out at the same time.An
ear went flying, spattering the wall of the shed with steaming blood and
ichor.
Pain
maddened, the demon threw back its head and let out a chillingly loud cry
and then plowed into Azhani, knocking her down.Backing
up, he smacked her in the head, tearing deep gashes down the side of her
face and neck.Azhani shouted in
pain and kicked upward, driving her boot heel into the gut.Carrion
scented air exploded around the warrior and the monster choked.
“No!Get
off her!” Kyrian, startled from her paralytic fear, surged upward, grabbing
up the discarded pitchfork and swinging it in a double-handed arc.The
forged iron tines, driven by the ferocity of fear and anger, penetrated
deep into the monster’s back, tearing through muscle and bone.Giving
the tool a vicious twist, the stardancer pushed as hard as she could, trying
to force the monster off of her friend.
As
soon as the demon’s weight was off her, Azhani rolled away and bounced
up, bringing her sword blade down in a furious swing, cutting off its head.Without
pausing, the warrior darted outside, immediately searching the property
for more of the demons.When none
appeared, she returned to the shed to see to Kyrian.
Numbly,
Kyrian let go of the pitchfork and backed away, feeling her gorge rise.Panic
and terror overwhelmed her once again and she raced out of the shed, crying
and gagging.Falling to her knees
in the snow, the stardancer vomited until her stomach was empty.
Azhani
drove her sword into the snow and knelt next to her friend, rubbing her
back until she had caught her breath.The
stardancer was trembling violently and the warrior was deeply concerned
for her friend but she knew that they had to get out of the blood stained
clothes as soon as possible.
Already
she could feel the caustic effects of the sickly yellow blood as it burned
into her skin.Scooping up handfuls
of snow, she began to wash as much of the ichor away as she could.Weakly,
Kyrian tried to help her, but her efforts were mostly ineffectual.
This
was worse than the bandits.Yes,
the raiders had been monsters, but this thing, this hairy, foul smelling
creature whose hunger seemed to be so focused on the stardancer had driven
a bolt of fear straight into Kyrian’s heart.
“Wha-what
was that?” she finally managed to choke out.
“Demon,”
Azhani tersely replied.“Okay, healer,
we need to get out of these clothes.They’re
toast.Come on, stand up.”The
warrior coaxed, keeping her voice firm but gentle.Like
a newborn kitten, Kyrian blindly allowed Azhani to pull her up and then
strip the clothes from her body.
Shivering
from the chill now, Kyrian nonetheless felt better to have the sticky reminder
of the monster gone.“Thanks,” she
murmured, hugging herself tightly.
“Get
into the house and see to your leg.I’ll
take care of this,” Azhani ordered in a tone that brooked no argument.
Kyrian didn’t bother to reply, she just
darted into the house, wincing in pain at every step.
Whistling
for Arun, Azhani waited for the frightened horse to reappear.Shortly,
he came trotting up the road and leapt over the low fence.Cantering
up to her, he came to a skidding halt about five feet away.
“I
know, boy.Stinks like death over
here.You just wait there; I’ve got
a job for you,” the warrior said soothingly.
Uncertain,
the horse stood still, watching her.
Azhani
ducked into the shed.Pulling the
pitchfork from the demon’s back, she dropped the makeshift weapon aside.The
warrior then grabbed hold of the demon’s feet and dragged it outside.Getting
a large piece of canvas, she rolled the creature and its parts up and tied
it tightly then attached a length of rope.
Patiently,
Arun allowed her to saddle him and then, when she guided him over to the
canvas and rope tied bundle, slowly picked his way through the snow.
“Come
on, that’s it, just a little bit more,” Azhani coaxed softly.Her
head ached fiercely and she knew she had to finish quickly, so it could
be cleaned.Reaching down, she grabbed
the rope and then wheeled the horse around.
They
returned a candlemark later, after having burned the demon’s remains.By
the time she led Arun in, Kyrian had taken care of herself and was just
finishing the clean up on the shed.
The
stardancer took charge of her horse, stabling him and brushing him down
and then giving him a larger than normal portion of oats.When
she came out of the shed, she found Azhani piling the fouled straw and
setting it on fire.
“You’re
hurt,” Kyrian said as she came around and saw the massive amount of dried
blood on the warrior’s face.
“Yep.Feels
like it tried to rip my head off,” the warrior said, wincing as the stardancer
reached up and began probing the wounds.
“Need
to get you inside, and clean that up.C’mon,”
Kyrian tugged on Azhani’s hand.
Suddenly,
the warrior pulled the stardancer close, crushing her against her chest.Kyrian’s
breath whooshed out in a gasp, but she gladly accepted the embrace, wrapping
her arms around Azhani’s waist and clinging tightly.
“Thought
I’d lost you,” Azhani murmured brokenly, shaking jerkily as hot tears dripped
into the stardancer’s hair.“I don’t
think I’d like that too much.”
“It’s
okay, Azhani.I’m not going anywhere,”
Kyrian said gently.I’m
never going anywhere that doesn’t keep me by your side.“I’m
so glad you were here.You saved
my life, again.”
Azhani
laughed, releasing the stardancer.“And
you saved mine!Very impressive move,
my friend.The beast never saw it
coming.”Dropping her arm around
Kyrian’s shoulders, she started walking toward the cabin.“Now,
you mentioned something about fixing my face?Because
it hurts like hell.”
“Yeah,
come on.I’ve got stuff already waiting
inside,” Kyrian said as they walked.“You
know, I never thought I’d ever use that charcoal colored stuff that the
Y’skani doctors gave me, but they really pressed how important it was to
use it on any wounds received from a demon.Now
that I’ve seen what kind of damage they do, I understand why.”She
looked up at Azhani, who nodded.
“Infection.The
claws are poisonous.I lost so many
men that way,” Azhani said through gritted teeth.The
adrenalin rush was wearing off and now the pain was eating into her, making
her feel like someone was pouring streams of hot lava down the side of
her head.
Hearing
the agony in her friend’s voice, Kyrian increased her pace.I’ll
take care of you, Azhani, just like you took care of me.The
fact that the warrior seemed willing to forget that Kyrian had lost it,
made the words of praise all that much sweeter.
%%%
Thick,
driving rain snuck into the nooks and crannies of Elisira’s clothes, causing
uncontrollable shivers to wrack her body.The
noblewoman tugged her cloak tighter around her face and wished again that
they had been able to stay in Brenton.Instead,
knowing that Arris would not likely give up, they had returned to the chill
embrace of the wilderness.Northward
they rode, sticking to the trade routes as best they could.It
had been at least a week since they had seen anything besides the occasional
rabbit.
Barton
was their goal - a tiny pinpoint on a crude map that the innkeeper in Brenton
had made for them.If anyone had
seen Azhani in the north, it would be the lawless folk of the free town.The
innkeeper had spoken of the people of Barton in hushed, fearful tones,
and at first, Elisira was reluctant to go to a place that inspired such
trepidation.The achingly cold days
and nights of travel had erased any fears, leaving her dreaming of the
day she supped with the scoundrels of the kingdoms.
Two
of Padreg’s men had taken ill during the journey.Alexander
Payle had died in his sleep, his body unable to fight off the horrible
coughing sickness.Syrah Jessup was
still fighting, but her weakened body would not be able to last much longer.The
loss of Alexander brought their party down to a mere handful, which did
not afford the noblewoman much sleep at night.
Strange
noises flitted around the camp at night, making the hairs on the back of
Elisira’s neck stand at full attention, no matter how many layers she hid
under.Barely warm nights were broken
by bone shattering mornings of cold so intense that everyone’s faces were
bright red within marks of waking.Stopping
in Brenton had been their savior.Without
the extra equipment Padreg had purchased, they would have all frozen.Their
new tents clung to the ground, bending the arctic winds over them and creating
a tunnel of comfort.Even the horses
crawled in at night, gratefully laying wind-chafed bodies down on woven
grass mats.
Elisira
had almost gotten used to the scent of wet horse.It
wasn’t as fuggy as the musty scent of wet dog, or as pleasant as the smell
of dew-spattered grass.Still, she
supposed life could be worse.Instead
of spending her days and nights in the company of people she liked, she
could be stuck in Y’dannyv, married to King Arris.
Looking
up at Padreg, she weighed her absolute disgust over Arris with the way
that the Y’Noran made her feel.Lightheaded,
breathless and free easily won out over frightened, dirty and nauseated.As
uncomfortable as her current life was, it was eminently more preferable
to that of a pampered slave.Elisira
wiped her nose and sighed.If only
they could be free of the damnable cold.
Rain
gave way to sleet and then to snow as they picked their way along the road.Elisira
peered down the road, seeking Padreg’s scouts.The
men were about a half-mile away, hopefully still following the right trail.None
of them had ever been this far north and finding their way in the storm
had been part luck and part skill.
Food
was the one thing that none of them had considered thoroughly.Padreg
knew that cold bodies required more fuel to stay warm.What
the chieftain neglected to plan for was the bitter chill of the northern
Y’dani wilderness.The supplies they
had thought would last several months was now almost gone.Hunting
had supplemented their meager stores, but the further they traveled north,
the scarcer game became.
With
less than a pound of dried meat and a few handfuls of rice, everything
green was tested for edibility.Some
of the trees had bits that could be boiled into a thick, bitter broth that
while tasting horrible, provided some warmth and nutrition.Tonight
though, they would have a bit of fresh meat for the party.Devon’s
quick skill with a sling had brought down a family of quail and tracing
the bird’s path had led the swiftly growing boy to their den.
Elisira
sought out the face of the page, surprised to see the light down of a first
beard hugging his narrow boned chin.He’s
grown so much...In
the weeks since leaving Y’dannyv, the gawky boy had sprouted almost two
inches, meeting the noblewoman eye to eye.His
voice was also undergoing the painfully embarrassing tonal changes.One
moment, she would hear the enthusiastic boy and the next, the ghost of
the man he would become, would echo from his mouth.
For
Devon’s sake, as well as their own, the noblewoman prayed that they were
as near to Barton as the map promised.She
was coming to realize that close in the Y’dani woods could mean candlemarks
or days, and they did not have days.
Freeing
a hand to brush accumulated snow away from her face, she looked for Padreg
and found him conferring with one of his men.It
was Aden, she realized, recognizing the shorter man’s posture.The
tall king gestured and Aden shook his head.Padreg
gestured again, furiously, and again, Aden’s response was negative.The
young noblewoman clicked to her horse, encouraging him to join Padreg and
his liegeman.
“My
lord, is there something amiss?” she called out softly as she drew closer.
Padreg
turned and looked at Elisira, smiling unconsciously at her approach.
“Nay,
my lady, it is nothing to disturb yourself with,” he said, his deep voice
rough with the accent of his homeland.
She
raised an elegant eyebrow.“Your
man looks fair ready to burst, my lord.Please,
do not think to protect me by hiding ill winds from my knowledge.They
will still blow fetid and rank.”
“Aptly
put, my lady,” Aden whispered, hiding a smirk.
Padreg
sighed in resignation.“As you will,
my lady.Aden brings word that we
are being tracked – yet not by king’s men or bounty hunters.Ice
demons hunt the snows, or so he claims.He
has yet to see the creatures, so I cannot place full credit to his scouting.”
Elisira
felt her heartbeat treble.“Demons,
Aden?You are certain?”
The
man nodded warily. “As certain
as I can be, using only fire tales and book learning to guide me.I,
myself, have never faced a demon, but I have studied the histories.I
know the signs – shadows in wind, the smell of rot and most importantly,
the ochre slime of their waste.See
here,” the man held up a leather-wrapped object.Inside
was a dagger coated in deep yellow ochre slime.“I
found this not more than a candlemark ago.”
The
foul substance steamed and bubbled in the cold, eating through the metal
of the knife blade and leaving behind blackened, wasted pits.Elisira
paled.
“We
must seek shelter, my lord.Your
man is correct in his tracking.Demons
hunt this land,” Elisira said firmly, turning to scan the road ahead intently.“If
they have our scent, it will not be long ere they feast on our entrails.”
Padreg
reached out a hand to reassure the lady, but quickly withdrew it at the
steely look of determination that settled on Elisira’s face.
“I
will require a bow, my lord, and sturdily tipped arrows.”
“Of course.You
can use Alexander’s,” Padreg nodded at Aden and the scout hurried off to
retrieve the dead soldier’s weapon.
%%%
As
the day wore on, Elisira tried not to regret stringing the bow that now
lay across her saddlebow, the string chafing against the fabric of her
breeches.She also tried to recall
every lesson she had ever taken from Azhani on the use of the weapon, as
well as the few tips her father’s huntsman had given her.On
her hip rode the saber, its peace ties fluttering loosely.
Astariu grant me the skill to use these weapons well, and the courage
to draw them under fire.
The snow had mercifully let up, but
Elisira knew it was only temporary.Worse
was yet to come.Hopefully, by then,
the party would be in Barton, safely tucked away in an inn and warming
their weary feet by a cheerful fire.Delightful
visions of warmed honey mead and a thick beef stew floated just out of
Elisira’s reach.She could almost
smell it, rich, sweet and wonderfully hot.Her
eyes fluttered shut as she savored the dream.
A
fat, wet gob of snow plopped onto her nose.
Her
horse suddenly reared, nearly throwing the lady to the ground.Elisira
grabbed the reins, quickly getting the horse under control.
“Easy
boy,” she muttered, using her knees to direct the suddenly recalcitrant
stallion.Behind her, Padreg’s men
were muttering as wind began to shake the branches of the trees.
“Demons!”A
high-pitched yell broke through the unnerving silence.Elisira’s
gaze snapped to Devon.He was pointing
to a patch of snow that seemed just a bit grayer than the rest.The
shifting wind brought the faintest hint of something putrid, causing the
hairs on the back of the lady’s neck to rise in fear.
“Fire
the torches men!” Padreg yelled.Each
of his men carried a torch, the one known bane of the demons.Elisira
pulled out her own torch and fumbled with her flint and striker, cursing
the cold that made her hands clumsy.From
the corner of her eyes, she could see that the others were having just
as tough a time with the torches.
The
smell grew stronger as the wind’s velocity increased.Large,
shaggy masses of teeth and claws began to rise up out of the snowy ground
and a low, thrumming hum joined with the whistle of the wind to create
an eerie chorus.The horses all began
to sidle, nervously shaking their heads and taking uncertain, frightened
steps backward.
“Get
those torches up, now!” Padreg’s fear tinged voice weakly pierced the hum
of the demons.One by one, the creatures
advanced on the party.
Devon,
who was having just as much difficulty as the others, suddenly dropped
his flint and striker, snapped his fingers and shouted, “Light damn you,
light!”
The
torches all lit with an explosive burst.
“Circle
up and protect the lady,” Padreg ordered, grabbing his horse’s reins and
pulling close to Elisira.His face
was a mask of stoic determination.“We
will not die today.”
The
steady creak of bending wood filled the air as bows were knocked.There
was a moment of absolute stillness as the arrows sliced through the air
and then, as they struck their targets, chaos erupted.Roars
of pain and fury blended with the wind as bows were dropped and blades
drawn.
Elisira
struck out at anything she could, praying that her blade bit deeply into
the hides of foes, not friends. Bedlam
danced madly around the party.Gray
furred death reached out for the lives of Padreg’s men, carving pieces
away from the group one by one.The
screams of horse and man blended with the grunts and growls of the demons.
Blood
and ichor puddled in the snow, vivid splashes of crimson and yellow that
fanned out around the raging battle.Viscous
slurry made footing traitorous for the horses and the weather turned even
worse.Fighting blind, the Y’Noran
party tightened their formation, trying to make a knot around their king
and his lady.
A bloody, razor-taloned paw came out
of the white haze and slashed at Elisira.She
ducked, swinging her blade wildly.The
sickening sensation of metal slicing through fur and flesh reverberated
up her arm and she just barely kept herself from vomiting.She
spared one moment to send off a quick prayer as she turned her head away
to see one of Padreg’s men dragged from his horse and carried off into
the woods.Grimly, she forced her
head around and maneuvered into his spot, facing the next demon.
~Chapter Twelve~
Azhani
Rhu’len was hunting.Not for the
rare bachelor buck or early risen bear, but for demons.It
had been three days since the demon had attacked Kyrian and nearly taken
the life of her only friend, and she was determined that nothing else would
sneak up on them.Wincing, she pulled
her scarf up around her face again.Thin,
dark lines were all that remained of the painful slashes that the demon’s
claws had left behind.
The
stardancer had given freely of her magic, healing Azhani and then herself.Kyrian
and Arun were now safely tucked away in the cabin.The
door was barricaded and the warrior had admonished the stardancer not to
let anyone in, nor was she to go out for any reason.There
was even a makeshift chamber pot in the storage room, so that she would
not have to even make the quick journey to the privy.The
rest of the room had been converted into a makeshift stable for the horse.
Every
day since the attack, Azhani had searched the woods, struggling through
the snowstorm on foot until she could go no further.Then
she had packed her bedroll and started an even wider circuit, praying that
the blankets were as warm as they looked.Before
leaving, she and Kyrian sat down and talked about her eventual return.
“Promise me you’ll be safe out there, Azhani,” Kyrian said quietly, pleading with her eyes.The stardancer’s hands were entangled in a piece of soft cloth that she had been using to dry the dishes.
Azhani nodded, smiling ruefully.“I can’t promise that, but I swear that I will return.”
Kyrian accepted the compromise.“All right.How will I know you’re back?If I lock the door, and I have the key, how are you going to get in?”
The warrior whistled piercingly, a long, four-note burst that echoed through the cabin.
“Oh,” Kyrian said, nodding wisely.“I see.Yes, I think I’d be able to hear that even in the middle of a good dream.”
Grinning, Azhani said, “And if I’m not alone, you’ll hear this.”She added a trill.Slowly, patiently, Azhani went through several different whistle combinations for danger, friend, injury and every other possible eventuality she could imagine.When she was through, she stood up and Kyrian stood with her.
Wordlessly, the stardancer wrapped her arms around her friend, hugging her tightly.“Come back soon, Azhani Rhu’len.I don’t want to spend too much time talking to Arun.”
Azhani sighed softly, petting Kyrian’s soft, curly tangle of hair.It had grown out since they had met, and now the amber-golden locks cloaked the stardancer’s shoulders.“Well, I hope poor Arun doesn’t get too bored listening to your addlepated ideas,” she said teasingly.
“Azhani!”Kyrian squawked, pulling away.“Be nice!”She smacked the warrior’s shoulder, and then cursed when the palm of her hand caught the edge of one of the burnished metal studs in the armor.“Ow,” she whimpered exaggeratedly.
“Poor baby.Here, let me see,” Azhani took the stardancer’s hand and turned it up, seeking signs of injury.A faint red mark marred the pale skin of her friend’s palm.“Mm, this looks bad.I think I’m going to have to use one of my father’s favorite remedies.”A twinkle of mischief sparkled in her eyes.She looked into Kyrian’s open face and said, “Now, just close your eyes, Kyrian, and count to ten, and by the time you’re done, the pain will be all gone.”
Gamely, Kyrian closed her eyes.Her palm really didn’t hurt that much, but it was heartbreakingly wonderful to see this playful side of Azhani peek out from behind those indigo blue eyes.She started counting, “One, two, three...”
As Kyrian counted, Azhani brought the stardancer’s hand up to her lips and waited.
“Ten,” Kyrian breathed, and then felt the wonderful sensation of soft lips brushing her skin.
“There now, all better?” Azhani asked, her voice seemingly deeper than before.
“Oh yeah, fine, thanks, yeah, that’s some wonderful trick there, Azhani,” Kyrian babbled, suddenly eager to reclaim her hand.
“Good.Now,
as much as I hate to say it, I have to go,” Azhani turned and gathered
up her heavy cloak, wrapping its furry warmth around her like an extra
suit of armor.“Stay safe, I’ll be
back.”With those words, she left
to begin her search.
This morning, she had seen her first
signs that the search was not in vain.
She
very nearly stumbled into a jellied puddle of demon spoor.Azhani
squatted down, studying the substance with a practiced eye.Just
the very sight of the stuff brought back enough memories to make her teeth
hurt.It’s too soon.They
shouldn’t be rising for another two years.She
poked at it with an arrow, grimacing when the caustic matter melted the
perfectly good arrowhead.
Looking
up, she saw that she was staring into the burned out bowl of a tree.A
patch of mushrooms, thick and dark lined the interior.Reaching
in, she casually snapped one off and sniffed it.A
musty, but sweet scent tickled her nose and she smiled in delight.A
treat for Kyrian.Thank you, goddess.Carefully,
she harvested the mushrooms, tucking them away in her pouch for safekeeping.
Living
with the stardancer had become the most pleasurable part of the warrior’s
existence.The younger woman’s natural
enthusiasm and exuberance for life had infected Azhani, making each day
seem a little lighter.Life wasn’t
perfect and there were many things yet to be done, but for this winter,
perhaps the gods would not object if she took some small comfort from Kyrian’s
friendship.
She
glanced down at the puddle of slime slowly melting through the snow and
smiled grimly.It started snowing
again, dappling her shoulders with a dusting of white.The
wind began to pick up and Azhani breathed deeply, snarling when she caught
the faintest trace of a very familiar scent.Coupled
with the distinctive pool of the demon’s hunting spoor, Azhani knew that
something – or worse yet – someone was in danger.
“I
knew you weren’t alone, you piece of slime.Now,
let’s see what your brothers have cornered,” she whispered, drawing her
blade and moving on silent feet through the woods.
%%%
Blinking
through the blood trickling into her eyes, Elisira desperately tried to
hold back the demon that was attacking her.The
noblewoman felt like she was caught up in a whirlwind.Demons
howled around her, their teeth and claws shredding into flesh and throwing
out bright crimson fans of blood.Suddenly,
she tried to break free, spurring the horse toward an opening in the trees.Rising
up before her, the demon roared, causing the stallion to rear and dance
backward on his hind legs.
Wheeling
back, Elisira huddled up with the rest of the party, doing her best to
keep the demons at bay.Curling her
lip into a feral snarl, she growled.Trapped.She
hated being trapped.Whether it was
disguised as the false nobility of King Arris or revealed as the hunger
driven rage of hellish monsters, she didn’t care.A
rumble of anger and frustration worked its way up from her belly, ripping
free to become a shout of pure adrenalin.
“Everyone,
concentrate on breaking free!If
we can get them to fall back, we can run!” Elisira’s voice penetrated the
chaos.
A
smile sprang to Padreg’s blood and ichor spattered face and he nodded.“She’s
right, lads!Press on!”
Renewing
the fight, they strove to throw back the onslaught.Wildly
yelling, laying about them with new vigor, the Y’Norans drove the demons
back.The tightly pressed circle
of horses expanded, giving them more room to fight.
Then
Devon went down, knocked from his saddle by a demon that leaped from the
trees.
“Devon!”
Elisira yelled, trying to break away and ride to his defense.The
beast in front of her cut her off, swiping at the horse’s head.
A
sound heard in the nightmares of many, the dreams of few and the prayers
of one, burst into the clearing.Somersaulting
into the fray came a blue and white clad figure; a sword flashing about
with such deadly ferocity that one of the demons’ heads was cleaved from
its body.
The
newly arrived warrior let out another ear splitting wail and leapt over
the falling demon’s body to skewer the one facing Elisira.The
noblewoman barely had time to see a flash of indigo blue eyes and dusky
brown skin before the warrior was gone, running toward the remaining demons.
Elisira watched in awe as the warrior
made quick work of the monsters that had been, up until now, making mincemeat
of the party.With a ferocity shown
by few, the warrior engaged the demons, ripping chunks of fur and flesh
from the bodies of their attackers.
Riding over to assist a fallen comrade,
Elisira dared not question this gift from the gods.Whether
their strange savior was Azhani, or someone using her trademark battle
cry did not matter at this moment.What
was important was escape.
The
strange warrior moved from demon to demon, never spending more than a few
breaths on their deaths.The creatures
seemed to sense that this new warrior was one who they could not defeat
and began backing away from the newly energized party.
“Your
bows, men!Feather their hides!”
Padreg shouted, lifting his own short bow and quickly firing off two arrows,
hitting one of the demons in the flank.
The
demon howled and made to attack the Y’Noran king but was quickly brought
down by a hail of arrows from the other men.
Leaping
in front of a demon attempting to run, the warrior thrust deeply into the
beast’s side, spilling fresh ichor onto the snow.The
creature howled in frustration, slapping a paw out at the warrior and following
it with a vicious head butt.The
warrior sidestepped and slashed, opening up a nasty gash along the creature’s
shoulder.Standing to charge, it
was brought down by arrows from Padreg’s men.The
remaining two demons scrambled off into the forest, leaving the group to
lick its wounds and catch their breaths.
They
let them go.Too injured and too
sickened to fight on, the party needed to find a place to heal and mourn.Two
men were dead, torn to ribbons by the demon’s claws.Four
of the horses were also gone, leaving the party short by two mounts.No
one, man or beast, was spared injury.
Elisira
felt her sword arm begin to tremble in exhaustion and was about to drop
her blade when Azhani’s voice echoed in her mind, “Never
drop a weapon.The minute you do,
you’re dead.Your blade is the one
thing standing between you and whatever is trying to kill you.It
is a part of you and should never be forsaken.”Her
slackening grip tightened automatically and instead, she laid the blade
across the pommel of the saddle.
After
a few breaths of the rank, coppery air, the noblewoman felt queasy.Breathing
shallowly, she turned her gaze on the warrior who had rescued them.It
had to be Azhani.No other moved
quite like the former warleader did – as though her feet only brushed the
surface of the ground, rather than pounded into it.She
was going from corpse to corpse, neatly beheading the demons.
Elisira
guided her shaking mare over to the warrior.“My
thanks to you stranger.”
She
looked up and the cowl of her cloak fell away to reveal a heartbreakingly
familiar face.
“Azhani?”
the noblewoman whispered disbelievingly.Sliding
off her horse and slowly walking toward the blood spattered figure, she
held out a hand and whispered, “Azhi?Goddess,
please, is that you?”
Padreg,
drawn by the pain and hope in his beloved’s voice, strode over to them.“Is
she right, stranger?Be you the one
called Azhani Rhu’len?”
Azhani
stood there, staring at her old friend.From
the corner of her eye, she saw the boy she remembered as Devon, Pol Imry’s
kid, looking at her with such hope in his face that she could not turn
away.Raising her gaze to Elisira’s,
she nodded.
With
a tiny cry, Elisira leapt across the remaining space and gave her a tight,
one-armed hug.“Thank you,” she whispered,
several times.
“Azhi!”
Devon cried out in joy, as he raced pell-mell to her side.Bouncing
happily, he hugged her, released her and hugged her again.“It’s
you, it really is you!I knew it!I
knew you weren’t dead!I knew those
cranky old bastards couldn’t kill you!”Tears
streamed openly down his face and he threw his arms around her again, burying
his head in her shoulder.“I missed
you,” he whispered.
She
ruffled his hair affectionately.“Missed
you, too, squirt.”The warrior wrapped
her arms around Elisira and brushed her lips over the noblewoman’s forehead.“Missed
you, as well, Eli.”
Gruffly,
Padreg said, “I’m glad to find you, warrior.I
have need of your services.”
Releasing
the warrior, Elisira began cleaning her sword off in the snow.Dark
pits on the blade appeared wherever the demon’s caustic blood had eaten
through the metal.Frowning, she
sheathed the saber and looked up at Padreg, who was waiting for Azhani
to reply.
Azhani
was staring at Padreg, eyeing him narrowly, as if trying to decide if he
were daft.
Turning
to the warrior, she dropped to one knee.“Master,”
she said, waiting for Azhani to acknowledge her.“I
have not lost your lessons.”
The
warrior looked down, noting that the noblewoman had cleaned and sheathed
her blade.She had also remained
calm, even after the danger had passed, which impressed Azhani deeply.
“Then
my teaching was not in vain.I am
grateful,” Azhani replied in a solemn tone, reaching out to touch Elisira
on the shoulder.“You are injured,
my friend.Let me tend your wounds.”
The
lady scuffed her knuckles across the slash on her head, wincing when they
came away bloody.“I’ll be all right.There
are others who need your skills more.”
Azhani
nodded and let Devon go.“I need
to go help your friends, Dev.Do
me a favor and find some bandages, okay?” she said after quickly making
sure that the boy was not injured.His
injuries, like Elisira’s, were light.He
nodded and ran off to look over the packs.
“Why
is it you seek me?”Her gaze fell
on the horseshoe-shaped tattoo that adorned his left collarbone.“Who
are you, Plainsman?”
Bowing,
Padreg said, “I am Padreg Keelan, Clan chief of Y’Nor and I seek you because
I need shelter.”The plainsman grinned
wryly.“It seems I have become an
outlaw in your kingdom.”
One
dark eyebrow rose, telegraphing Azhani’s curiosity.“How
does a king become an outlaw in one of the seven kingdoms?”
“With korethka,
all things are possible,” he replied softly.Looking
at Elisira, he smiled as she helped Devon rip up tunics for bandages.“Though
there is more than just the sting of soul’s love that taints our problems,
my lady warrior.I daresay that King
Arris’ darkened soul would have found other cause to despise me.Be
that as it may, it was upon my request to court yon lady that I learned
of a plot to assassinate me.”He
nodded at Devon.“The young man there,
he came to me at great risk to expose the machinations of Y’dan’s monarch.
I
should have perhaps fled, taking only those loyal to me with, but my heart
cried out to beg the companionship of the lady Elisira.She
agreed, for she has no love for Arris, though he desires her for his own.”
“He’ll
not have her,” Azhani said through clenched teeth, her hands opening and
closing in fists.
Padreg
started at her reaction, but continued.“As
we have traveled north, I have returned my mind to my stay at Y’dannyv,
and found that the king’s intentions toward the lady were perhaps less
honorable than those of a dog caught in mid rut.I
wondered then, if he were so driven to attack me over a tumble in the hay,
why he had ousted you from your honorably held position?If
my own branding of outlaw was done so cheaply, was the label affixed beside
your name any richer?”
The
warrior sorted through the king’s statement and shrugged.“I
killed a lot of innocent men.I did
it to escape the king’s justice.Draw
your own conclusions.”She shrugged
and began to turn away.
“A
king like Arris knows not what true justice is, warrior.Upon
this day, in the sight of the Twins, for naught but the sake of what was
good and right, you proved your innocence.You
are a true servant of Astariu, Azhani.It
would honor me greatly to have you at my back,” Padreg said solemnly, offering
the warrior his arm.
Hesitantly,
she clasped it, grunting at the surprising firmness of the Y’Noran’s grip.“Thank
you, your highness,” she murmured, granting him the respect of his title.
“Padreg’ll
do, warrior.I’m not one to stand
on ceremony, especially when I’m freezing my manhood off in the middle
of a snowdrift the size of an Y’skani sand dune.”
A
genuine smile creased the warrior’s face.“Follow
me then, Padreg.What shelter I have
is small, and already shared, but what room you can find, you are welcome
to use.”
“Shared?”Elisira,
who had finished with the bandages and was walking up to bind a cut on
Padreg’s hand asked, loading the word with a thousand questions.
“Someone
I met on the road.An Y’Syran stardancer
called Kyrian,” Azhani said, grinning brightly.“She
saved my leg with her care.”Lowering
her voice for Elisira’s ears only, “And her friendship has rescued my soul.”
The
depth of pain in the warrior’s crystal blue eyes was visible for the briefest
of moments, vanishing quickly to be replaced by a hard calm that sent a
chill down the other woman’s spine.Elisira
fervently wished that she would never be at odds with the woman whose glare
could cut as deep as any knife.
“If
you would warrior, lead us on to this place of refuge,” Padreg said and
then turned to give his remaining warriors orders to gather the slain.“I
like it not to leave good Y’Noran blood to teeth and fang.We’ll
build a cairn some ways from here, if that be all right with you, warrior?”
“Call
me Azhani.Yes, that’s fine.We
can leave the demons – if anything out here is willing to stomach them,
they’re welcome to the remains,” the warrior replied absently.Mentally,
she mapped out the route they would take back to her father’s homestead.She
knew just the place where they could find a nice, open area with plenty
of rock and debris suitable to build cairns for the fallen.
%%%
Traveling
was difficult, yet easier than it had been.With
Azhani to lead them, the scouts no longer hunted blindly for half-remembered
landmarks.The innkeeper in Brenton
had been helpful, but it was terribly hard to locate every burnt out tree
stump and moss covered boulder he had described as popular markers along
the route to Barton.
After
a candlemark, they stopped and buried the bodies of Padreg’s men.Azhani
approved of the Y’Norans; they were quiet, hard working and efficient in
their actions. Unlike the boisterous
Y’dani she had served with most of her life, the Y’Norans followed orders
without question.Yet, when one of
the men had a suggestion, they did not hesitate to approach their king
with it.
As
the last stone was laid in place, Padreg stepped up and put his hand on
the cairn.Closing his eyes, he took
a deep breath and began to speak.
“Far
from home, my brothers, but close to heart, you’ll be.Alexander,
brother of Stefan, fair of hair and bright of eye, always with a joke in
your heart, may the goddess never tire of your uproarious spirit.Nadine,
daughter of Gwenneth, with your brown eyes and red hair like fire, and
a spirit to match, may you dance with Astarus.Finally,
to Roald, be he ever so brave, be he ever so old, no one knew mead like
my good friend Roald!”
There
was laughter, and more than few tears, as Aden, Thomas and Syrah each went
to the cairn and said their goodbyes.Azhani,
Elisira and Devon watched the proceedings, and as the Y’Norans turned away,
the noblewoman and the page each stepped up to the cairn and laid wreathes
of tiny white flowers on the dark gray stones.
It
was nearing sunset as they approached the gate and Azhani gave out the
four note whistle that meant she was home, adding a trill that she hoped
the stardancer would remember meant that she was not alone.The
warrior looked at her father’s homestead and felt no little sense of pride.She
and Kyrian had cleaned it up, taking the ramshackle buildings and fence
line and making it livable once again.Smoke
chuffed merrily from the chimney and there was a cleared path through the
snow that led from the gate to the door of the house.Branching
off from the side were covered pathways that went to a shed and a privy.
A
light came on near a window and Azhani winced at the stardancer’s seeming
lack of caution.The door creaked
open and Kyrian exited the building, dressed in full stardancer regalia,
down to her steel baton and Twins token.A
grin pricked Azhani’s lips briefly before the warrior’s customary mask
of calm settled in its place.
“I’m
home,” she simply said.
“And
you’ve brought guests, I see.Wonderful,
welcome and please in the name of the goddess, enter in peace.”Kyrian’s
natural charm quietly threaded its way through the group, putting to rest
whatever trepidations remained.This
was not the home of a known fugitive, but the sanctuary of a stardancer,
one of Astariu’s most beloved servants.
As
they entered, Kyrian immediately went to the man whose injuries were the
worst and carefully helped him off the horse and into the cabin.
Azhani
watched the stardancer go and then turned to Padreg.“You
can bring the horses to the shed.There’s
not much room – the building wasn’t meant to be used as a stable, but I’m
sure Arun won’t mind the company.”
Padreg
nodded, but his eyes, as well as Elisira’s, were glued to the rapidly moving
form of the crimson robed stardancer.
Elisira
turned to Azhani and admiringly said, “She’s good, for one so young.”
“She
does all right,” Azhani admitted.
Before
long, the group was nicely ensconced in the main room of the house.The
most stable portion of the upstairs loft was quickly turned into an infirmary.Downstairs,
the walking wounded huddled around the fire, grateful to shuck layers of
blood and grime encrusted clothing.
Young
Devon was fast asleep, his head pillowed on his folded hands and two blankets
draped over his exhausted body.Azhani
moved from person to person, doing what she could for their injuries while
Kyrian and Elisira handled the severely wounded.
The creaking of the floor above them
made Azhani nervous.Unable to repair
the supports, neither she nor Kyrian had been upstairs since they had closed
it off for the winter.We
can’t keep them up there; we have to move them into the storeroom maybe,
but...
A
sharp cracking noise interrupted her thoughts.
“Look
out!” Azhani yelled, grabbing the sleeping boy and rolling away from the
hearth.The splintering sound of
wood, followed by a drift of cobwebs and several choked off oaths filled
the room.Looking up, it was easy
to see the stardancer’s booted foot and cotton clad leg sticking out of
the ceiling.
There
was a moment of stillness and then Kyrian’s bright laughter caused everyone
else’s mirth to be set free.
“Aw
damn it, Azhani, wouldn’t you know that I would remember about this weak
spot just about the same time I put my foot through it?” she called down,
causing further gales of laughter.
“Azhi,
do you think you could get your warrior butt up here and help me?” Elisira
could be heard moving around carefully.“Your
friend’s no lightweight, you know.”
“Yeah,
it’s time for you to play hero and rescue me again, warrior,” Kyrian added,
between her giggles.
Azhani
rolled her eyes, let the now wide-awake Devon go and climbed upstairs.
“Azhi?I
think I like that,” Kyrian said, wiggling her toes to make sure nothing
was seriously damaged.
“I
wouldn’t call her that until you’re certain she loves you,” Elisira whispered
quietly in the other woman’s ear.The
words were so fleeting, Kyrian wondered if she had imagined them.
Smiling
as Azhani’s tall form appeared at the top of the stairs, she called out,
“Hey there, stranger.How’s about
giving me a lift?”She wriggled her
eyebrows comically and raised her arms into the air, smiling beseechingly.
From
her temporary bed against the wall, Syrah Jessup cackled, then wheezed
in pain as a round of coughing overtook her.Elisira
quickly went to her side and helped her to drink a soothing tea.
Rolling
her eyes and blowing out a stream of exasperated air, the warrior reached
down and pulled Kyrian out of the hole.As
she pulled, the stardancer’s pant leg tore, the sound echoing loudly in
the room.
“Guess
I’ll have to be using that needle and thread again,” Kyrian joked weakly
as Azhani gently set her down on a more stable portion of the floor.Examining
her leg, the stardancer made a face and sighed.Three
angry red, weepy scratches cut into the pale skin of her calf.“Ow.”She
looked over at Elisira, who was still with Syrah and then to Azhani and
shook her head.“Somehow I don’t
think your father’s excellent remedy will fix this one, Azhani.”The
floor creaked again, and she scrambled over toward the wall.“Damn.I
guess we can move them into the storeroom, though it’s not as comfortable
in there.I certainly don’t want
them falling through the roof on us while we’re sleeping some night.”
“That
would be uncomfortable,” Elisira said, stroking her chin in thought.“How
much of the floor is rotted?Can
we just keep them in one area?” she gestured to Thomas and Syrah, the two
injured warriors who were bundled on straw pallets.
“No,
the floor is rotting in many places, we’ll have to move them again.I
don’t like it, but it’s the only,” Azhani broke off as Devon’s wavy brown
locks appeared at the top of the stairs.“Dev,
what is it?”
The
young man stared at the three women, dazed.“I
think I can help.This book,” he
hefted a large, battered tome, “has a spell for fixing stuff.”
Azhani
narrowed her eyes.“A spell?I’m
not certain I’d like to trust my father’s house to the vagaries of magic,”
she said disdainfully.
Kyrian
raised one eyebrow in question, but Azhani didn’t explain her attitude.“Well,
I think it couldn’t hurt to try,” the stardancer said softly, trying not
to push her friend into something she didn’t want, but hoping for some
kind of explanation as to why she didn’t like magic.
Elisira
nodded, “I agree with Kyrian, it’d certainly save time and space if Thomas
and Syrah could sleep up here.”
The
grinding of the warrior’s teeth was audible.She
turned her gaze on Elisira, her eyes diamond hard.“You,
of all people, should understand,” she said, her voice a low hiss of remembered
pain.
Elisira
winced.Her old friend was right.She
did know why Azhani had no love lost for the arts arcane.It
was the magic of Cabalian sorcerers that had caused so much trouble for
the warrior’s father, Rhu’len DaCoure.Through
the machinations of that evil house, the good man had spent much of his
free time chasing shadows.When he
had finally cornered the man responsible for most of his grief, Keskyn
Nightblade, it was only to discover that Keskyn himself was a pawn in a
much greater game.Because of that,
the older warrior had instilled in his daughter a deep loathing for traditional
magic.
“I
know you have no love for magic, my friend, but Devon is not Keskyn Nightblade.He
only wishes to aid, not injure,” the lady said, her voice soothing.
Azhani
looked away, muttering, “Fine, do whatever.I’ll
go get some more blankets.”She turned
to go and then noticed Kyrian still sitting on the floor, wrapping her
injured leg in some bandages.Without
asking, she easily lifted her up and carried her down the stairs.
Kyrian
let out a startled squawk and said, “Azhani, what are you doing?”
“You
shouldn’t put any pressure on that leg for a while.Might
have strained something,” Azhani replied gruffly.
“But...” Kyrian started to retaliate, and then noticed the set expression on her friend’s face.Silence is the better part of valor in this instance, Kyr.She needs to feel like she’s doing something to take her mind off of what’s happening with Devon.Just let her be, girl, let her be.
She settled down, allowing Azhani to
carry her down the stairs.Besides, a
rarely heard inner voice commented, this feels rather nice.Kyrian
had to agree, being so close to the spicy-scented warrior’s body was much
more pleasurable than she should admit to, but could hardly deny.
Azhani
settled Kyrian into her bed and said, “Wait here,” and then wandered over
to the fire, where she made a cup of tea for her friend.
Kyrian
glanced up the stairwell and could just barely make out the glow of magic.Quickly,
she allowed her gaze to scan the ceiling, where she could see the bluish-gold
threads of power creeping across the wood, mending and supporting the ancient
timber.Before her eyes, cracked
and broken wood stretched and melded, growing into firm flooring once again.
“Very
cool,” she whispered, nodding slightly.
Azhani
made a plate of stew for the stardancer and then carried it back over to
where Kyrian had settled on the bed.Even
though she tried not to, Azhani could see the threads of arcane power rippling
across her ceiling.Just the thought
of someone performing magic in her
house made her skin prickle and her shoulders ache with tension.
“Here,”
she thrust the plate at Kyrian, “eat.”
Taking
the food, Kyrian smiled her appreciation.“Thank
you.This was very kind of you.Sit
down with me?”She patted her bed
softly.
Azhani
was about to say no, but decided to allow her friend’s calming presence
to soothe her jangling nerves.
The
quiet sounds of people eating and sleeping began to fill the room and soon,
Azhani dozed off where she sat.
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The story and characters of Banshee's Honor are copyright
to the author, 2002.