Amazon Queen (29 page)

It was time to return to my camp.

We left Dana and Pisto at Jack’s neighbor’s house.

The rest of us split into two groups.

Lao, Kale, and I would approach the camp directly, walk in like we had every right to be there . . . which we did. We would try talking first, see if Kale’s story convinced the Amazons that Padia had misled them, and that the high council they were following wasn’t the high council at all but a rogue portion of it.

While we talked, the rest would come through the woods. They would search the outdoor areas, including the barn, for Cleo, Tess, and the baby. They would also be there to jump in if a battle broke out.

I couldn’t imagine words would fix this, though, couldn’t imagine a battle wouldn’t break out.

I packed the truck and my body accordingly.

Lao drove. Kale and I rode in the back, ready to jump out and fight without doors slowing us down.

It was a silent trip down the bumpy drive, a drive I’d traveled too many times to count, but only one other time as an outsider.

An outsider among Amazons.

There was a time I’d have chosen death over that.

Things were quiet outside the safe house, but not normal, not completely.

The horses were in the paddock, looking as if they hadn’t been ridden or groomed since we left. The gardens looked unkempt too. Nothing horribly noticeable, we hadn’t been gone that long, just small things . . . a watering can left turned over on its side in the middle of a row of beans, mud caked in a few of the mares’ tails, and no smells of cooking coming from the kitchens. It was after one on a Monday, bread baking day; the yard should have smelled of baking yeast and wheat.

As we climbed out of the truck, I glanced at Lao. She was frowning. She’d noticed too.

There were signs of life, however. Someone had set up a loom on the front porch, and there was a stack of spears fifty or so feet from the house plus a target hanging on a tree.

And then there were the two men in cable uniforms walking out the front door.

Thea was behind them. One man held a clipboard out for her signature. She signed it and watched them get into a white truck before turning to me.

“Zery, you came back.”

She seemed unconcerned. She was studying Kale, who had walked a few feet away, and had her back to the priestess.

“Where is the tribe?” I asked.

Thea’s eyes jumped, her focus shifting from Kale to me. “Inside. We’ve been doing some upgrades. There is a lot to learn.” With a frown, she looked back at Kale.

I bristled at her disregard and the idea that she was bringing technology into my safe camp without my permission, but knew stating that now would get us nowhere.

Instead, I stepped forward. “You’ve met Kale.” I stated it as fact. We’d found Kale at Artemis’s obelisk. Whether she remembered it or not, she had to have come from camp. I hoped her intense scrutiny of the place now meant the visit was coming back to her.

I glanced at the council member who was staring at the house.

“Kale . . . ” Thea glanced around.

At her name, the warrior turned. As her eyes passed over Thea, her lips moved slightly. She spoke, but I couldn’t make out her words.

Lines formed on Thea’s forehead; she pressed fingers to them. “Why are you here, Zery? I don’t know anyone named Kale.”

After closing her eyes briefly, she took a breath and looked back at me. “Are you here to say you’ve decided to follow the high council’s directive, to beg for a place back in the tribe?”

My hand lowered to my belt. I’d placed one of Jack’s knives in a sheath there earlier. It was in clear view. I wasn’t trying to hide that I was prepared to fight. “I wasn’t aware I had left the tribe, only this house.”

“Hmmm. Is that how you see it?” Thea shifted her eyes over the three of us and seemed to miss Kale’s presence entirely. “How about you, Lao? You’d really choose one weak queen over the tribe you’ve helped to birth and raise?”

Tired of Thea’s passive-aggressive insults, I touched the knife’s handle. “Where are Tess and Andres?”

The priestess sighed. “Tess I know, but Andres?” Her voice was bored, almost condescending.

“The baby, the one you want to kill.”

Her eyes flashed, but her body posture remained nonthreatening. “You mean the one
the Amazons
want to kill, the one the high council
ordered
us to kill?”

“That would be the one. Have you seen him and Tess?”

“If I had, the job would have been done.”

Kale stepped forward. “We know Padia’s here.”

Thea looked at her as if she’d forgotten the council member was standing next to me. “Padia here?” There was surprise in her voice.

Tense, I responded. “The visiting priestess. We know she was here. Does she have Tess and Andres?”

Thea growled. “I know who Padia is. She isn’t here. You would know if she was. I would—”

I cut her off. “We have a new enemy, Thea, and it isn’t the sons.”

She laughed. “Not the sons? Don’t tell me, you’ve been seduced like your friend? Have you been visiting her? Associating with sons?” Her voice rose, incredulous. “I knew you’d fallen, that you were too weak to carry out the council’s orders, but I wouldn’t have thought that of you.”

I jerked Jack’s knife from its sheath and held it under her chin. “We are here to get Tess, Andres, and Cleo. Turn them over.”

Her eyes sparked. “I already told you Tess and the baby aren’t here. Maybe she took the little mutant. Maybe she has the strength to do what you didn’t.”

This barb took, sank into my subconscious and ate away at it. Could Tess have taken Andres? Could she have been lying to us, deceiving us all along?

“And Cleo?”

“Cleo, the new warrior? Why would you want her?” Bored, polite, and well-mannered.

Her manner gnawed at me, worse than any direct insult.

The porch had filled with Amazons. I leaned closer to the priestess. Hissed in her ear, “Padia lied to you, Thea.”

Louder, I repeated, “She’s lied to all of you. Padia may be a member of the high council, but she isn’t the only member. She’s told you the high council is in agreement, but they aren’t. I’ve brought a council member here, to tell you the other side.” I nodded at Kale but kept my eyes focused on Thea.

I waited, expecting Kale to step forward and declare who she was, to force the deluded Amazons to listen, to out Padia and the Amazons who followed her for their worship of another goddess.

Thea’s voice rose. “Why would you come here with such stories? Are you that desperate to regain the role you lost?”

The priestess was still talking. “I told you we would accept you back as a warrior, but that isn’t good enough, is it? You failed as queen, failed the council, and thus failed the tribe. Time to face that, Zery. Time to face you will never regain the role again.”

Her voice was strong, with a shade of sympathy, but her eyes were cold, like the metal blade posed inches from her artery.
You’ve cracked, Zery. Cracked.

The thought sprang from nowhere.

Startled, I glanced at Thea’s eyes. They were steady and still cold.
Admit you aren’t strong. Don’t embarrass yourself and your tribe.

My hand began to shake. A pain, concentrated and sharp, like a knitting needle being thrust through my brain, cut off my breath. Sweat broke out on my upper lip. I wanted to drop the knife, to cradle my head in my hands.

What was happening?

As the pain probed deeper, the priestess’s eyes seemed to bore into me. Doubt sprang up from somewhere so deep inside me I hadn’t known it existed.

The knife in my hand wavered, down . . . sideways. At first I thought it was nerves, my indecision showing. I tightened my muscles and ordered my body to obey my will. My bicep throbbed with a new pain, one I recognized from hard workouts and long battles, but I continued my struggle to stop the knife from its erratic jumping. I stared at it, unable to comprehend what was happening. The weapon was moving, but unguided by me, despite me.

Thea smiled, a calm, sweet smile, nothing menacing at all . . . I doubled my effort, the blade stilled for a second, then jerked again.

Thea’s smile widened. Her eyes were laughing as she glanced down at the weapon. She found my predicament amusing, found me amusing. If the knife had been free, I would have pierced her through the heart without a flicker of hesitation.

There was a swirl of movement beside me. Caught up in what was happening, I’d forgotten I wasn’t alone. So, it appeared, had Thea.

Lao, the hearth-keeper who before this adventure I’d thought of as someone to fold laundry, fix a broken washer, or order weeds to be pulled in the garden, curled her hand into a fist and slugged the high priestess with a short uppercut to the chin.

Thea’s head shot up and her mouth dropped open. Her eyes wide and shocked, she fell back a step.

Feeling the release as clearly as if a rope had held me in place and been cut, I staggered.

Thea lowered her chin and opened her mouth to say . . . something. The words never came. The hearth-keeper balled up her fist and struck her again.

Blood leaked from the corner of Thea’s mouth. The passive amusement disappeared. Her face drawn and angry, she circled her arm behind her head. The earth under my feet shifted. I knew immediately what was coming.

I shoved Lao back and covered her with my body. Rocks sprang from the ground. Thea moved again, this time making a throwing motion. Stones, sticks, and dirt pummeled into the truck behind us.

Another raise of her hand and the Amazons who had remained standing on the porch, watching, rushed forward. They dove at us, hearth-keepers, warriors, and artisans. The group seemed to have doubled since we had left.

I didn’t know where they had come from or why, but it didn’t matter. Innocent or fully knowledgeable of what was happening, they were all at this moment my enemy. And there were four of them for each of us.

Victory gleamed from Thea’s eyes.

For all of five seconds.

Then arrows pierced the ground around us.

Thea whirled and cursed.

Bubbe stood in the front of the paddock, her red dress swirling and billowing. She dropped her bow and raised her arms, wind growing around her as she did.

Bern and Mel, astride horses, held bows too. Nocking new arrows, they kneed the animals forward into a gallop and leapt over the fence. They slid to the side, hung hidden behind their horse’s necks, only the tops of their legs and the length of Mel’s hair, dangling below, visible from this angle.

Jack and Mateo jumped from the roof to the ground on our side of the fence. Jack was the first to reach the Amazons, the first to strike. He jerked a knife from his belt and threw it as he ran.

A warrior, a female I didn’t know but an Amazon all the same, crumpled, struck through the heart.

For an instant my world froze . . . instinct and logic warring inside me. One of my own had fallen, been killed by a son. A lifetime of loyalty said that was wrong. I stared at the knife in my hand, not sure what to do, who to attack.

Friend or foe? Who was who? When did it stop being simple?

Another warrior jerked the knife from her fallen companion’s chest and pulled back her arm, ready to launch it back at the son. I didn’t think; I didn’t let myself.

I acted . . . my knife struck . . . two warriors down.

Thea spun and screamed, “Traitor! I thought it before, but here is the proof!” The stack of spears rose and turned . . . pointed toward us . . . me. There was death in her eyes . . . directed at me.

I ran away from Kale and Lao, praying I was right, praying the spears would follow.

They did. One by one they shot toward me like they were being flung by a catapult. I dove and leapt, not pausing from one movement to the next. I put what I’d learned with Jack into practice, let instinct guide each motion.

Beyond me, the two groups fought; knives flashed; staffs twirled. There were yells and screams. I couldn’t tell from whom or why. My attention wavered. A spear grazed my neck, then shot through the length of my hair.

I cursed and rolled again, only to see another spear hurtling toward me. My breath was ragged.

I was losing a battle I hadn’t even been allowed to fight. I cursed myself then, my own stupidity. I’d let the enemy define the conflict—a beginner’s mistake, a mistake that could kill you. I flipped into a somersault but didn’t come out, kept going toward the spears rather than away. Didn’t stop until I was in the middle of the struggle and a sword was within my reach.

I grabbed it and spun; adrenaline pumped through me. Thea stalked toward me, her lips moving, but Areto cut her off, a sword in her hand.

I smiled at my old student and wondered if her time under Thea had served her well.

She jabbed. I parried. She jabbed again. Our swords met; metal slid over metal until the crossguards met. She stared into my eyes. “The barn. Look in the barn.”

Then she stepped back, her eyes dead, her body poised to continue the fight.

The barn.

I spun and slapped her against the wrist with the flat of my blade. She dropped her sword and fell to the ground as if struck.

A horse flew toward me, with Bern on his back. I tossed her the sword. Still moving, she grabbed it midair. I ran and jumped, using both hands to propel myself into place behind her on the animal. “The barn,” I yelled. “Cleo is in the barn.”

Swinging the sword at Areto, who had recovered her own, Bern nodded, then reined the horse toward the barn and kneed him back into a gallop.

As we raced by Bubbe, I yelled, “Hold them off.”

The sound of air whooshing and Amazons yelling told me the old priestess was hard at work.

The barn was dark and smelled of wet hay. There were bales piled up to the rafters.

As Bern slowed the horse to a walk, I glanced back over my shoulder. Bubbe had called up a wind and was spinning it into a shield, the Amazons on one side, my allies on the other. Mel had joined her, spinning a buckler of her own, smaller than her grandmother’s but more agile. It darted around, following any Amazon who thought to work her way around Bubbe’s magic.