Epic Of Palins 01 - Dagger Star (39 page)

Red smiled grimly as she adjusted her scabbard. There’d be no talk with the goatherder. She’d managed to avoid him so far. If all went according to plan, she’d be free of that soon enough.

Bethral sat beside her, carrying the red and white banner of the Chosen. They’d exchanged a few words about what her sword-sister had done, with Red raging and Bethral as calm as you please.

In the end, Red couldn’t argue with the results.

The breeze snapped the cloth of the banner back and forth above their heads. Bessie snorted in anticipation, and Beast was just as eager. A fair day for a battle, win or lose. Red focused back on the battlefield.

Evelyn sat on the other side, clad in brown leather armor that she’d produced in the last few days. Red could have sworn that it was older, showing signs of wear. The Priestess seemed at least to know how to put it on.

Evelyn had demanded a place at her side. “If you go down, I can do something about it. I’ve done it before.”

Red had given up arguing with her. On her own head be it.

Gloriana was well to the rear, with her own set of guards. Ezren and Vembar were with her. If Red fell, she’d be summoned to take command.

It was done. The work, the worry, the toil of the last few weeks came down to this. A fierce gladness filled Red. She welcomed this battle, no matter the end. It was time to take her place in the front lines.

Movement caught her eye, and she looked sharply to the south, where a force had appeared. By the Twelve…those weren’t her men. Had the Regent—?

“Riders,” Bethral noted, and Red turned in the saddle to see a group of warriors riding toward them, carrying no obvious banner but wearing the coat of arms of a black eagle, its wings wide, carrying a large cabbage rose.

The riders pulled up next to them. The lead warrior pulled off his helm, and gave them all a grim look.

Red raised an eyebrow. “What brings Tassinic to the field, Lord Verice?”

Verice gave her a sardonic look. “My Warna is delivered of two healthy babes. I have a fine son and a lovely daughter.” He caught Evelyn’s look. “They are all well, Lady High Priestess.”

Evelyn smiled. “That’s good news.”

“And,” Verice continued, “the children both bear the mark of the Chosen.”

Bethral and Evelyn’s mouths dropped open. Red threw back her head and laughed.

Verice raised an eyebrow, but the corner of his mouth was raised slightly. “The Regent now threatens me and mine, Chosen. My forces are yours; our swords, at your command. Is there room for us in your plans?”

Red smiled with fierce delight. “Oh, yes. And the plans have just changed!”

JOSIAH sat on his horse at the farthest point of the valley, straining to see what was happening.

The Regent had placed his forces carefully before his gates, and Josiah had been told that there were more warriors within the city. Red’s attempt to break through was a desperate gamble to avoid a lengthy siege, but one that all had agreed to.

Now the armies faced one another, and even from this distance Josiah could hear the roar as thousands of men screamed their defiance, each taunting the other with insults and threats.

Horns echoed faintly, and Josiah’s heart leaped to see the banner of the Chosen leap out and charge the enemy. The line of warriors behind her followed, streaming across the ground, moving together. Red’s banner marked her location to friend and foe, Bethral by her side.

Evelyn, too. He swallowed hard, and watched as the two armies clashed, the banner engulfed in the struggle.

The sounds of the fight were faint, and Josiah strained to hear. But it was his eyes that captured the story. Within a few breaths the Regent’s army surged forward, overrunning their opponents.

“No,” Josiah could barely believe how fast it happened. One minute the army of the Chosen was advancing; the next, they were fleeing the field. The red and white banner was gone, and….

“It’s a rout,” one of his guards said. “We’d best go now.”

“No,” Josiah said, but then the gates of the city opened, and more men began to stream out on horseback, giving chase. “Lord of Light,” Josiah prayed. He couldn’t make out Red’s banner anywhere. But he saw the banner of the Regent emerge, meaning that Iitrus had finally left the shelter of his walls to take the field and hunt down his enemy.

“Now, Lord Josiah.” The warrior closest placed a hand on the bridle of his horse. “We must leave now—”

Red’s army continued to run as the line of warriors streaming from the city gate trickled. Josiah couldn’t turn his eyes from the defeat, couldn’t look away.

Kitten…

Horns sounded. All heads swiveled to look to the south. Warriors were sweeping out of the woods, horsemen with lances and the banners of—

“Tassinic,” Josiah breathed softly. What had brought Verice to Red’s side?

“They’ve flanked them,” someone pointed out.

Josiah watched as the line of elven horsemen smashed into the flank of the Regent’s army like a wave. Suddenly, the routed men turned back and attacked.

“Gods, she is a cagey bitch,” one of the warriors said. “It was a feint.”

Planned? She’d planned that?

As if from nowhere, the banner of the Chosen flared out once again, and headed for the Regent’s.

The Regent’s warriors seemed confused, and they milled about for a moment before turning to make a run for the gates. But it was far too late for that. Red had arrived, and Josiah could almost hear her battle cry from where he stood.

Within seconds, the Regent’s banner fell to the ground. Josiah’s heart swelled with a sense of joy and peace. He didn’t have to see it to know that the Regent was dead on Red’s blade.

The warrior next to Josiah grunted in satisfaction. “All over but the shouting, now.”

“Can we go—” Josiah gathered his reins, but everyone around him shook their heads.

“It may be all over,” the warrior said grimly. “But the shouting takes a while.”

THEY’D won, but not without death, not without loss. Josiah looked out over the field of battle and saw more than the dead and dying. He saw his Athelbryght burned, his people dead and taken. Even as the army cheered around him, he knew well the cost.

Word had spread that the Regent Iitrus had taken the field toward the end, and in the swirl of the battle, he’d been killed. Josiah had no doubt the man was dead at Red’s hand.

Gloriana rode beside him, with their escort. He could see her swallowing hard as she looked around.

The command tent was empty, to Josiah’s surprise. Gloriana saw his face as they entered. “Red told me that after the battle is when the leader must truly lead. ‘Easy to get people to follow you into combat. Hard to get exhausted, wounded people to see to each other and clear the dead.’”

Gloriana’s voice hitched. “That’s what she said.”

Josiah looked at her strained face, and opened his arms.

Gloriana ran over, sobbing. “So many, Unca ’Siah. I thought it would be glorious, but it’s awful.”

“I know, child.” Josiah hugged her close, and let his own tears flow there, in the privacy of the tent.

“THAT’S the worst of it,” Red said.

Night had fallen, and the campfires were being lit. She’d worked her way around the camp, seeing to the survivors, letting them cheer the Chosen, gleaming in her armor and helm. She had taken the surrender of Edenrich and the Regent’s army. Criers had been sent into the city, announcing to all and sundry that she’d enter the city on the morrow, to claim the throne.

She looked across the valley, at the command tent. It glowed in the night, with people coming and going. Josiah would be there, with Gloriana and the others. She could almost feel him. She’d summoned the leaders to the tent for an evening meal and council.

Red rolled her shoulders, trying to relax. She’d more to do this night, before she could sleep. A promise to keep, a few announcements to make. Red grinned at the thought. Aye, just a bit more work to do. She patted Beast on the neck, just as three horses came up, bearing Evelyn, Ezren, and Bethral.

THIRTY-FIVE

EVELYN drooped over her horse, tired but exhilarated. It seemed this day would never end, and yet there was so much still to do before the morrow, when all her hard work and efforts would see Red Gloves take the throne of Palins.

When Bethral and Ezren had appeared to fetch her, she’d assumed they’d head toward the command tent. But instead they’d ridden to the top of the rise, to the small shrine. Red stood there, with five warriors.

Bethral and Ezren dismounted, and handed their reins to a warrior standing close. Red handed them both black cloaks. “Come.”

“Where are we going?” Evelyn dismounted as well, taking a cloak and following them into the shrine. “Shouldn’t we be—”

“There’s something we need to see to, first,” Red told her. “There is a shrine to the Lady of Laughter in the White Tower, yes?”

Evelyn stilled, her eyes wide. “Yes, but—”

“Just outside the Regent’s chambers,” Red said. “I want you to open a portal to that shrine.”

“I haven’t dared,” Evelyn said quietly. “I’m sure it’s guarded, and—”

“We will deal with any guards,” Red said. “Open the portal.”

Evelyn frowned, and opened her mouth to argue, but Red glared her down. So she drew a deep breath and concentrated, casting the portal spell. It had been years since she’d been in that shrine, but it was a lovely one, filled with paintings of the Lady, laughing and joyous.

Evelyn opened her eyes as the light flared and then the curtains appeared, moving in a breeze only they seemed to feel. Red gave the portal a grim look, took up a small metal lantern, and stepped through.

Ezren followed, and Bethral gestured for Evelyn to go ahead.

The shrine was empty and dusty, as if long unused. Probably for about five years, to Evelyn’s way of thinking. The font in the center was dry, but she could still make out the silver stars painted on the blue ceiling to mimic the evening sky.

Red held the lantern high, and stepped to the door, listening. Bethral followed, and stood silently as the portal closed.

Red turned to Ezren and nodded. He eased the door open and slid into the corridor. Evelyn started when she heard low voices, of Ezren and at least two others. Bethral advanced with her mace, but Red shook her head. They both waited at the door. It was on the tip of Evelyn’s tongue to ask what was going on when Ezren appeared. “Come,” he said quietly.

Red opened the door, and gestured for Evelyn to follow her. Once in the corridor, they walked a few feet to another door. Evelyn recognized the doors to the Old King’s chambers. She frowned.

Rumor had it that the Regent had taken these rooms for his own.

Bethral stayed back, watching the corridor. There were guards at the far end, but they seemed to be ignoring their party.

“No need,” Ezren explained. “They know what we are about.”

“It’s sure to be locked,” Evelyn insisted as she focused the lantern on the door.

Red pulled a ring of keys from her cloak and unlocked the door.

“Where did you get those?” Evelyn asked.

Red gave her a hard glance. “Off the Regent’s body.”

“Oh,” Evelyn said, but Red was already through the door, and gone. The Priestess sighed, and followed.

The rooms hadn’t really changed since she’d last seen them. More cluttered, that was certain.

She stood in the center of the room, and stared at the treasures tossed idly aside. A white mink cloak thrown over a chair. Wine bottles on every table. Pouches with gold coins and gems spilling out. Evelyn shook her head at the mess, but something about the bottles caught her eyes.

She reached out—

“Priestess,” Red called from the bedroom.

Evelyn went through the second door, into the King’s bedchamber. There was the huge four-poster bed with velvet curtains that she remembered so well, having healed the man more than once.

There was a woman seated on the bed, dressed in a thin nightgown, clutching a…Evelyn moved closer. A doll. The woman was holding a doll, and rocking back and forth. Her hair was long and thin; her skin, pale.

Ezren knelt before her, talking softly. She looked at him with wide blue eyes. When she shifted on the bed, Evelyn heard the clink of a chain.

Evelyn froze as Red reached under the blanket and pulled out a chain that ran from the bedpost to the woman’s ankle. She moved to Ezren’s side and looked at the woman closely.

Ezren looked up, and gave her a weak smile. “Priestess—”

The woman’s nightgown was open at the neck, and Evelyn could see a mark in the light of the lantern. “A Chosen,” she breathed.

The woman looked at her, her eyes distant. She was rocking the doll back and forth, and humming softly.

“Only this Chosen has been raped and abused by the Regent,” Ezren said with a gentle tone and fierce expression. “Trying to get her with child.”

Sweet Joyous Lady. Evelyn swallowed hard, then whispered a spell and reached out to touch the woman’s hand. The woman stopped her rocking, and flinched away.

Evelyn smiled, held out her hand, and waited.

Curiosity replaced the woman’s fear, and she reached out to gently lay a finger on Evelyn’s ring.

Evelyn slowly turned her hand over so the woman could see the white star sapphire. The light caught the stone, and the star appeared on its surface.

The woman’s eyes went wide, and she looked up at Evelyn. “Star,” she said with wonder.

“Star.” Evelyn squeezed her hand gently, then focused into the woman’s body. She drew a deep breath, sickened at what she found. She pulled back, and opened her eyes. “Her mind is gone.”

The woman pulled her hand away, and then reached out to touch Evelyn’s hair. She smiled, then cradled her doll again.

“Iitrus kept her here,” Ezren sighed, “trying to get a child with the mark, in order to place the child on the throne. He wanted me to tell a story about her, so that—”

“Is there somewhere you can take her, Priestess?” Red asked. “Somewhere safe?”

Evelyn nodded. “There’s a shelter to the east, where they care for poor souls whose wits the Lady has taken.”

“She needs to disappear,” Red warned. “She looks older than I am, Evelyn. That could be a problem if she fell into the wrong hands.”