Epic Of Palins 01 - Dagger Star (10 page)

“So…” Red stood slowly, and stared at Evelyn. “Your fourth High Baron is one with no people or army, a land in ruins, a hut, and five goats to his name. Pardon me if I am not impressed.” She turned, and stared at the door. “I’ll just have a word with yon High Baron.” Red moved toward the door, and Bethral knew that look. Red was on the scent of prey.

As the door shut, Evelyn turned to her, a question in her eyes.

Bethral shrugged. There wasn’t much to say, and no point in speaking.

Evelyn looked back at the door, and sighed. “Well, then, let’s see what more we can do for your

‘purchase,’ eh? Where is that salve?”

As the priestess turned away, Bethral glanced over at the bed, and found two green eyes open and staring.

They were as green as new leaves, unfocused and confused. She drew a breath to speak, but her voice froze in her throat. Those eyes suddenly…focused.

Focused on her, pierced her. She shivered, a chill running over her skin as if the man had seen her soul and beyond. But as quickly as it came, it vanished, and the eyes grew clouded.

They drifted shut as Evelyn turned. “What’s wrong?”

Bethral swallowed before she answered. “His eyes were open for a moment.” She reached out to touch the man’s hand, but there was no further response. “Do you think…”

Evelyn handed her a jar with a smile. “With the blessing of the Lord and Lady anything is possible, Bethral.”

THE rough stones of the well caught at the fabric of Josiah’s trous as he leaned against it. The goats had run up to mill at his feet, bleating softly. He sat, watching the sunset, and waited.

He didn’t have to wait long. Studying his shoes, he heard the door open, and her footsteps on the path. The goats shifted, and her boots came into sight, stopping right in front of him. If he looked at her, he’d no doubt she’d be standing there, hands on hips, glaring at him.

“Well?” she demanded.

Josiah steeled himself and looked into her eyes, surprised to find no anger there. Instead she looked serious and curious, and…understanding.

He looked away and swallowed hard.

Red made no sound or movement. As if she would wait for hours, patient but unrelenting.

“Behold Athelbryght.” Despite his best intention, Josiah’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat and plowed on. “Once a fair land, fat and prosperous. Our crops were plentiful, our livestock and our people were hale and hearty, and our wine caused bards to weep.”

Red moved to sit next to him on the well. She didn’t say anything, but he felt the warmth of her body through his tunic.

“When Father died, I inherited the Barony. Mother grieved so for him that I knew she needed something to keep her going. She loved the Court life, and the weaving of political intrigue, but I preferred the land and its people.” Josiah sighed. “Mother went to Court, to represent our interests. I stayed home, and between us we protected our land and our people.”

“But then Everard, Rosalyn, and Hugh died under mysterious circumstances, and all hell broke loose. The Council was convened and a Regent named. Mother felt my presence was necessary.

But it was no use. The arguments continued, hot and furious, until I grew uneasy. It seemed to me that certain members were stalling, trying to keep the High Barons arguing.”

“So I returned here”—he closed his eyes—“and stepped into a nightmare.”

Against his eyelids, he saw it again: the flames of the manor house, the dead tossed about like broken dolls, the screams as warriors attacked farm folk. “They—” His voice cracked again, and he dropped his head to his chest, squeezing back the pain.

Red waited.

“I tried to rally the few that lived, and they tried to reach my side. We fought, but with no real skill. Our attackers were experienced and ruthless. They cut through us like a scythe through wheat. I fought, as best I could, but I was no warrior. I took a blow to the head. I remember warm blood flowing into my eyes, and running into the barn….”

Red said nothing.

“I awoke in Evie’s arms, sprawled in the mud of the yard, damaged in ways I hadn’t known possible. To find five goats and the rest in ruins. To learn of my Mother’s death, to see the remains of Athelbryght. All dead, all burned, everything blackened, devastated, gone….”

His breath caught in his chest, which felt like it was being crushed. Two quick breaths helped control the pain and the horror that threatened to overwhelm him.

Red was still silent, still waiting. The goats were close, pressed against his legs and the wall of the well.

Licking his dry lips, he tried to relax, tried to let the pain go, but—

Gentle fingers touched his chin. He started, surprised, but the soft pressure made him turn his head as he opened his eyes.

Red’s eyes held compassion and something more. But he didn’t have time for further thought as she moved closer and kissed him.

Josiah sucked in a breath just as Red’s mouth covered his. Her lips were warm and firm, and his eyes closed instinctively as that warmth moved over his body.

The wonder increased when she didn’t pull back. He felt her fingers cup the back of his head, and slide into his hair. The kiss strengthened and went on, reassuring, comforting—

Without another thought, he wrapped his arms around her and crushed her close. All his pain and his sorrow washed away in the desire for her heat and joy in living. For one bright moment, he dared feel, dared desire this warrior woman. There was no struggle, no resistance. She just melted into him, humming her appreciation into his mouth. It could have gone on forever, as far as he knew, but he broke away at last, terrified at the brief glimpse of hope.

He sat there, breathing hard, shaken to his core. He risked a glance at Red.

The side of her mouth was quirked up. She seemed somehow oddly satisfied. But she was breathing hard as well, and he felt a brief joy at the idea that he could rouse her with his kiss. But then it all came crashing down on him, and he turned away in despair. He had opened his mouth to offer an apology when she suddenly stood up.

He looked up as she took a step forward and pushed through the goats. He half expected another invitation to her bed. May the Lord of the Sun forgive him, but he wouldn’t decline it again.

But she just looked back over her shoulder. “I need more information.” With that, she turned away and walked back to the hovel.

Josiah stood for a moment, then followed, entering just in time to hear Red address Evie. “How’s your patient doing?”

Evie stood, shaking out her robes. “Well enough. I’ve done what I can for him today.” She looked up at them with all seriousness. “Did you two talk?”

Red nodded. “I did. I need to know more.”

Evie nodded. “And there’s something you need to see.”

“You’re going to take her there, then?” Josiah asked gruffly.

“She has to know, Josiah. Know everything.” Evie said calmly.

Josiah took a breath. “Can we trust her?”

Red gave him a long look over her shoulder. “I was wondering if you’d think of that.”

Josiah looked at her, expecting anger. But Red just turned back to look at Evie.

Evie stood straight and raised her chin. For such a small woman, she was a force of nature when she needed to be. “If we can’t trust her with this, we can’t trust her at all. The birthmark says we can trust her. If we can’t trust that, then everything we believe is for naught.”

Josiah sighed. “Very well.”

“That’s all well and good.” Red crossed her arms over her chest. “But does someone mind telling me where we’re going?”

“IT won’t hurt,” Evelyn assured Red as they entered the shrine. “It’s like walking through a door.”

“This isn’t a priestly thing, true?” Red asked. Bethral had no problem with her leaving, but then Bethral didn’t have to walk through the damn thing, did she? Red scowled at the stone floor beneath her feet. Magic she could stomach. Barely. But godly things…

“It’s a magic spell, not a prayer,” Evelyn chided over her shoulder as she strode ahead. “You people of Soccia are all alike. So tense about—”

“How far are we going?” Red didn’t need a lecture, that was certain sure. She adjusted her sword belt, and then cursed silently for showing her nervousness.

“Far enough,” Evelyn said quickly. “Now let me work.”

Red narrowed her eyes at that, as she took the basket handle. The priestess was nervous as well, and being about as clear as fog. But Evelyn turned to face the back wall of the shrine, and began to chant. The hairs on Red’s neck rose, and she looked away, out the doorway of the shrine.

Josiah was still out there, up the path, holding the lantern. The thrice-damned goats were there as well. He’d walked out with them, but had stopped there, letting them go alone. Red narrowed her eyes again. Something about that wasn’t quite—

“There.”

Red turned back to see the wall of the shrine was now a doorway, filled with thin white curtains that seemed to move in a breeze only they felt. She swallowed hard. “I’ve heard of this, but never seen it. Is it true that you have to know a place before you can go there? This way?”

Evelyn took the basket from her hand. “Yes. Ready?”

“I thought only mages could do this,” Red observed.

Evelyn nodded. “My father was a mage; my mother, a priestess. I can wield some magic that is not of the Gods.” She tilted her head. “You’re stalling.”

“I’m not,” Red said, staring at the curtains.

Evelyn took her elbow. There was a soft scent of incense about her. Red looked down into eyes that held a glimmer of laughter in their depths. “I’ll be happy to explain all about portals. Later.”

Evelyn smiled as she spoke. “Now close your eyes and take two steps.”

Red shook off the touch, closed her eyes, and took two steps forward.

She expected to feel the curtains on her face. Instead, a breeze touched her cheek, carrying the strong scent of pine and a faint smell of manure.

She opened her eyes to find herself in a sun-dappled grove of birch trees, their white bark almost glowing in the light. The grove was a perfect circle, with a second row of pines behind the birch.

Red looked back over her shoulder, to check the portal. But there was only birch and pine.

Evelyn stood at her side, a faint smile on her face.

There was a path off to the side, but Red’s attention was caught by the stone in the center of the grove, its flat top covered with wheat sheaves, a few dried sunflower heads, and a lump of suet.

A bright scarlet bird, startled by their arrival, exploded off the stone, scolding them with loud chirps as it took to the trees.

She stepped forward, craning to look, when a deep voice sounded from the trees. “Hold, stranger.” The voice sounded oddly forced.

Red placed a hand on her sword hilt, but Evelyn gave a little shake of her head, as if in reassurance.

“Who goes there?”

Red frowned. The voice—it was a child’s voice, a child trying to sound much older.

“Lady High Priestess Evelyn, and a guest.” Evelyn called out in response.

There was a pause then as the greenery to the right rustled, with some sort of whispered consultation going on in its depths. There had to be at least two, maybe three—

“Is all well with you, Lady Priestess?” The voice faltered a bit in a childish tenor.

“I prefer honey in my kavage,” Evelyn answered.

Three children leaped out of the pines, laughing. “Aunt Evie!” They piled out of the woods, chattering and running. Red half expected them to vault the stone, but they ran around it and mobbed Evelyn, clutching at her robes, all talking at once.

Red took a step back as Evelyn knelt to return their hugs. The youngest one, a small blonde, was demanding her attention. “We’s guarding, Aunt Evie! We did good, didn’t we? Didn’t we?” The child turned and looked back at the pines.

Two men emerged, dressed in leather armor and carrying long bows. The elder chuckled, but the other gave the child a cynical look. “All’s well, but for almost knocking over a Lady High Priestess. Where are your manners?”

The child give him an angry, stubborn look. “But she’s Aunt Evie.”

“That she is, but she’s brought a guest, hasn’t she now, and deserves respect, doesn’t she?”

The child puffed out a breath, and swiveled her head to look Red over carefully. The others quieted, and then they all stepped back and performed a bow.

“Greetings and welcome, Lady High Priestess Evelyn.” The tallest, a blond boy, spoke with formal tones. “How may we serve you?”

Evelyn solemnly curtsied to the children. “Allow me to make you known to my guest. This lady

—”

Red snorted.

Evelyn ignored the interruption. “This lady is the warrior Red Gloves.”

The children bowed. Red noted the wariness in the men, but they inclined their heads as well.

“Red Gloves, this is Tellen, Cordell, and Brela.” Evelyn indicated each child in turn. “And their teachers, Oris and Alad.”

Red inclined her head. “Well met.”

“Another to join the cause, Lady?” Oris, clearly the elder, asked.

“We need to speak to Auxter.” Evelyn answered.

“He’s at the forge, Lady.” Oris gave the children a look. “Your hour of guard duty is done. You may go with the Lady High Priestess.”

The boys quivered, but managed to restrain themselves and gave him a formal bow. Evelyn laughed to see it. “Enough! Tell me about your lessons.”

The children gathered about her, all talking at once. They smelled of pine sap, and had needles and leaves in their hair. Brela, the smallest, a blonde girl with eyes of bright blue, looked up at Red. “Why do they call you Red Gloves?”

Evelyn sucked in a breath. Red gave her a look out of the corner of her eye. Bethral had warned them, then. Just as well. But did the priestess think she’d—Red made the look a withering one before looking down at the child. “I like red gloves.”

“Oh.” Perfectly satisfied, the child reached up with both hands. Red swooped her up into her arms, pleased to see that the priestess looked a bit like a dying fish.

Evelyn had the grace to blush. She took the hands of the two boys, and started to walk toward the path.