Epic Of Palins 01 - Dagger Star (12 page)

Auxter reached up and took a mug without a word. Arent served the others, then set the tray down and took her own mug in hand. “So that’s the new Chosen.”

“Word’s out, then?” Auxter asked.

“Racing around like chickens on slaughter day.” Arent watched Red with narrowed eyes.

“She can get us the support of the High Barons—” Evelyn started, but Auxter cut her off with a look.

“Evelyn, how can someone so talented, and so smart, be so stupid?” Auxter asked softly.

Evelyn flushed up. “She—”

“Aye, you’ve found a solution to a problem, Evie lass, but you’ve created more trouble in the bargain.” Auxter’s gaze was on the fight, but his words were directed to her, and they were soft.

“We’ve spent five years working to building our forces, training Gloriana to take the throne, and teaching the others to treat Gloriana as the true Queen. The other children have been deemed her heirs. They know it, we all know it.”

A shout arose, and Evelyn looked over to see Red fall to the ground, somehow manage to roll under a table, and get to her feet on the other side, staff still in her hand.

Auxter continued, “Now you walk in and produce another Chosen, and expect everyone to accept her with no hesitation.”

“She’s Chosen,” Evelyn whispered back.

Auxter nodded. “She is. And they will accept her, but it won’t be as easy as lifting her shirt.”

“But—”

“Look at Gloriana,” Arent said softly.

Evelyn looked up at the older woman, then obeyed.

Gloriana’s face was flushed, and there was anger in her eyes as she watched the fight.

A pit blossomed in Evelyn’s stomach. Lord of Light, she’d made a terrible mistake. She looked down into her mug of ale. “Auxter…”

“Enough!” Auxter bellowed. Evelyn jumped, startled by the cry, but the warriors merely stopped what they were doing, and turned to look at him.

“You can fight, woman. I will give you that.”

Red stepped out of the group, her color high, her breathing fast. “So can they,” she offered, with a grin.

Auxter grunted. “You are Chosen.”

Red planted the staff. “If I choose to be.” She tugged on the edges of her gloves. “I’ve yet to see a profit in it.”

Gloriana took a step forward, scowling. “It’s not about profit. It’s about restoring the land and its people. It’s about—”

Vembar shifted his leg to press against hers; Gloriana stopped talking and bit her lip. She glanced at the old man, then stepped back. Evelyn’s heart went out to her—so earnest, so naive.

Evelyn sighed. That was part of the problem: Gloriana’s youth and inexperience.

Red’s eyebrow went up as the warriors pulled back stools and chairs to seat themselves. “That’s all well and good, but I’m a mercenary. We like to see a return for our efforts.”

“A throne, for one thing.” Vembar’s voice was soft, but sharp.

“There is that,” Red acknowledged, taking a deep breath. “Still, I’ve some thinking to do. And someone to talk to before I commit to this scheme.”

“Well enough.” Auxter held out his hand.

Red extended the staff toward him and placed it in his hand.

“On the morrow, then,” Auxter stated.

Red nodded, then gave him a grin. “Any ale left?”

THEY walked in silence back to the grove, with three of the warriors carrying baskets and bundles of supplies. The birches seemed to glow with the last light of day, even though sheltered in the pines.

Evelyn began to chant, and once the door was open, the warriors started to carry the bundles through. “Call for Josiah, and he’ll tell you where to put them,” Evelyn instructed the men.

“We’ll take care of them from there.”

Red stood by the stone, looking down at the dried sunflower head. More seed had been picked from it by the birds. The breeze had died down, but the scent of pine was still strong. The faint odor of manure from the fields was all but gone.

Red breathed in the air and tried not to think about much of anything for a while. Just to be, for a moment.

Evelyn cleared her throat, and Red looked up. The warriors were gone, the supplies all carried to the other side. But the priestess barred the way to the portal and stood there, glaring at her.

Not a good omen, to be sure.

Evelyn straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Before we go back, I want to know what your intentions are toward Josiah.”

“Excuse me?” Red asked, putting her hand on her sword hilt.

“I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

Red chuckled. “I thought you were a priestess.”

“I’m sworn to chastity, not stupidity,” Evelyn said. “As one of his few living relatives, I ask your intentions.”

Red tilted her head and studied the woman before her. “Sister?”

“Cousin.”

“Ah.” Red nodded. “That explains the ‘Lady High Priestess.’”

To her surprise, Evelyn flushed red, as if embarrassed. “No. We are second cousins. I don’t bear the title as the result of birth. It was awarded to me by the Crown.” She pressed on. “Josiah is dear to me, and I don’t want to see him hurt.”

Red opened her mouth to give an earthy description of her “intentions”…but the words didn’t come. She closed her mouth, looked down at the ground, and studied the tips of her boots. A picture of Josiah rose before her: sitting on the well, his arms crossed over his chest, hunched as if in pain. Those wounded eyes….

“All I ask is that you are honest with him,” Evelyn continued. “If it’s for a bit of slap and tickle, well then…”

Red let the words slide past her. Being lectured on her love life by a priestess—the Twelve help her! Still, the idea of just a bit of fun with the man seemed wrong somehow. As if she already wanted more. She scowled at her boots. What was she doing, mooning over a man she hadn’t even slept with yet?

“I don’t know,” Red said abruptly. She looked up, realizing that she had cut Evelyn off in midsentence. “I don’t know what my intentions are.”

Evelyn drew in a breath, then let it out slowly. “Don’t hurt him. He’s already suffered more than enough.”

With that, she entered the portal.

Red scowled at the portal. For the first time in a long time, she was at a loss. Over a goatherder.

It was uncomfortable, and she didn’t like it.

Still, there were…possibilities. And a good mercenary considers all the potential profit before selling her sword.

Red drew a deep breath, and stepped into the portal.

THE hut was stuffed full of the baskets and bundles when Red and Evelyn squeezed in the door.

“There’s no room for all this,” Josiah grumbled.

“There’s need, though,” Evelyn pointed out. She moved to the bed to look down at her patient.

“He’s sleeping,” she exclaimed softly.

Bethral nodded as she pulled a loaf of bread from one of the sacks. “For the past hour.” She looked over at Red, and frowned. “What happened to you?”

Red touched a sore spot on her cheek. “Got to do some sparring while we were gone. Learned a few things.”

“Such as?” Bethral asked.

Red leaned against the door, and folded her arms over her chest. “Oh, let us see. Things like I am not the only one to bear the birthmark of the Chosen.”

Bethral looked up, startled.

“Oh, that’s not all,” Red purred. “Josiah here hasn’t told me all his secrets yet.”

Josiah’s head jerked up.

“And the priestess has managed to assemble a rather large force of arms, and it’s located in Soccia, no less.”

Evelyn’s head jerked up.

“Soccia,” Bethral asked. “Home?”

“Oh, yes.” Red scowled. “Northern Soccia, by the look of it. Isn’t that right, priestess?”

Evelyn opened her mouth, but Red wasn’t in the mood for explanations. “I know a shrine to the Twelve when I see it, birch trees and all. Not to mention the scarlets, a bird of our land, not of this. Oh, yes, Bethral, we can go home. Take our gear, our horses, and be gone in an instant through this lady’s magic. Which is exactly what we are going to do if I don’t get the entire truth, right this minute.”

RED watched the priestess blush as red as a scarlet and look down at the floor. She started twisting her silver ring. “It wasn’t really a lie,” she hedged softly.

“Not really the truth, either,” Red snapped.

Evelyn didn’t look up. “Auxter’s farm is in northern Soccia,” she confirmed. “I didn’t want you to just disappear without having a chance to talk you into helping us.” She glanced over at Josiah, and looked away.

Red glanced at him as well. He stared back, his jaw set, almost defiant in the face of her demands. Good to see, actually.

“I told you every—” Josiah started.

Red cut him off, and pitched her voice high. “‘Unca ’Siah pops the door.’” She let her voice drop back to normal. “That’s what the littlest one told me.”

Josiah said nothing, and Red let the silence grow. Bethral’s gaze went from face to face, but she didn’t interfere. Evelyn was watching Josiah.

Red gritted her teeth and waited. If the man didn’t say something soon, she’d have to—

“When Athelbryght was destroyed, I was damaged,” Josiah said. “I told you that.”

“And I assumed that you were injured,” Red said. “And you let me think that.” She could hear the faint sound of a goat bell outside, coming toward the hovel. She pressed her back harder against the door, and planted her feet.

“He was hurt.” Evelyn sat down, clasping her hands in her lap. “When I found him in the yard, he was almost gone: cold, shivering, barely enough strength to breathe.” She raised her head, her eyes distant, seeing into the past. “I started to pray there, in the rain and mud, desperate to aid him. But”—her voice trailed off—“I could not.”

“The Gods didn’t answer your prayer?” Bethral asked.

“No.” Evelyn looked back down at her lap. “I thought that for a moment, thought that Josiah wasn’t to be blessed, thought I’d sinned in some way, but—” She looked at Josiah.

“I cannot be touched by magic,” Josiah growled. “Not by sacred magic, not by high. If I come into its presence, it goes out, like a candle. If I try to enter a portal, it ‘pops’ and disappears.” His hands formed fists, knuckles white. “Powers I once wielded with ease are gone.”

Powers he once…

Red narrowed her eyes. “You were a mage?”

Josiah turned his back to her, facing the wall, his entire body trembling. Red studied every line of his frame as Evelyn spoke. “Josiah was a mage of great power. His was a love for growing things and—”

“Stop.” Josiah’s voice cracked.

Evelyn bowed her head, and they sat silent for a moment, as if someone had died. Of course, to Josiah’s way of thinking, maybe he had. But Red’s mind raced. “In a land where magic is common, that makes you an incredible danger. And incredibly powerful. All at the same time.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Josiah snarled, spinning to face her. “I could see, taste, touch, use the powers before. But now I’m blind, as blind as you are to the power that swirls around us. I can’t even sense it. I’m a cripple.”

Goats were butting against the door now, but Red held the door closed.

“A powerful cripple,” Bethral noted, “if you cancel magic in your presence. That would mean…” She looked at the man on the bed. “If that’s true, then how does this one stay healed?”

“Because once its work is done, the healing magic fades, but the results remain,” Evelyn said. “If Josiah walked in during a healing, then all the work might be lost, but not after. Still”—she looked at Josiah—“it’s a curse. He can’t be healed, can’t walk through a portal, can’t use the benefits of any magic.”

“That’s true enough,” Red agreed. “But from a warrior’s point of view…”

“He could walk through a mage battle without being touched,” Bethral said. “He could cancel magic locks or traps.”

“A pawn, to be used,” Josiah said bitterly. “Or killed, when it can’t be used, because of the threat it represents.”

“So that’s why you’ve stayed here, hidden, alone, in this devastated land?” Red asked carefully.

“I deserve nothing less.” Josiah’s voice was gruff as he turned to the supplies crowding the table.

“Evie, it’s getting late. Don’t you need to get back?”

Evelyn gave him a sorrowful look, then sighed. “You’re right, Josiah.” She focused on Red. “I’d hoped to spend more time talking this over with you, before you make your decision.”

“We’re not going anywhere.” Red said. “Besides, I need to discuss this with Bethral—”

“Not really,” Bethral said. “I’ve told you how I felt, and none of this has changed my view.”

Red glared at her, but Bethral gave her a simple shrug. “I will follow you, sword-sister. It is your decision.”

“Thank you so very much,” Red snarled. “That’s so helpful.”

Bethral shrugged again. “You are the Chosen One, if you so choose.”

Evelyn raised her hand to her mouth, and Red was certain she covered a smile. But when the priestess spoke, her voice was calm. “I do need to return to the temple, since I’ve duties in the morning. Let me do another healing on our friend.” She rose from her chair. “I asked Arent for some clothing for our guest….”

“These supplies need to be put away.” Josiah was unpacking one of the sacks. “I’ll get a meal started.”

“I’ll go check the horses.” Red retreated from the hut as fast as she could. Too many bodies in that small area for her. The goats were clustered about the door as she left, but they followed her down the path.

The cold night air was a relief from the heat, and she sucked in a deep breath to clear her head.

Beast and Steel were still in the paddock, and they raised their heads and nickered at her approach. Red went inside the barn, and gave their stalls the once-over. Sure enough, they needed tending.

Ah, well, the “Chosen” had best get to work, then.

She hung her weapons close by, and started working. While her body did the mucking out, she thought about all the possibilities.

All the possibilities.

The all too familiar scents of a barn rose around Red as she started, but that didn’t bother her.

She welcomed the feel of her muscles moving, the sight of the stall getting cleared out. It pleased her to set things right again, using a simple shovel and the strength of her arms.