Taste of Darkness

by Maria V. Snyder

  “Yes.”

  “That’s impossible.” I didn’t even know if the two of us would make it out, let alone thousands.

  “Then I’m not leaving.” She dashed away.

  Stunned I stood there until a guard noticed and reminded me with two strikes of his reed that I needed to report to my tower. The sting from his weapon barely registered as I hurried back. Now what?

  Could everyone escape? They vastly outnumbered the guards, but all the guards inside here only had keys to the towers. We couldn’t get far without the rest of the keys. And the guards on the other side wouldn’t open them for us. Unless Odd could steal all the keys?

  I trudged up to the sixth level. Stretching my legs, back, and neck muscles, I concentrated on the problem. I understood why Melina wanted to rescue them all—my stomach soured at the idea of leaving them behind—but...

  Fydelia joined me. “Did you talk to Melina?”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  “Didn’t go as you expected, did it?”

  I met her gaze. And she accused me of being too smart for my own good. No sense lying to her. “No.”

  She nodded.

  Taking a chance, I asked, “Has anyone ever escaped?”

  If she was surprised by the change in topic, she didn’t show it. “Nope.”

  “Has anyone tried?”

  “Yep.”

  “And?”

  “The guards can’t be seduced or bribed or tricked—it’s been tried dozens of times. And the last time there was a riot, guards from the outer perimeters flooded the prayer room brandishing swords. It wasn’t pretty.”

  “Were you here?”

  “It was right before I arrived, so I got an up-close look at the consequences.” She shuddered.

  So much for overpowering the guards. “Has anyone been forgiven and released?” I asked.

  “Nope.”

  No surprise. A thud sounded from above.

  Fydelia gnawed on her lower lip. “If we had weapons, it’d be a different story.” She gave me a pointed look.

  Many of these women had been soldiers in Estrid’s holy army. If they kept their skills sharp... Another muted thump. “You’re still training, aren’t you?”

  “Yep.”

  “All of you?”

  “Yep.”

  “Just in case?”

  “We’ve been here a long time. And you never know when the opportunity will arise. And I’m thinking you’re that opportunity, Irina.”

  Gee, no pressure. “I don’t—”

  “Weapons and opportunity, Irina. We’ll do the rest.” She left.

  If only it were that easy. I spent the rest of the night mulling it over. Aside from the wood from the bunk beds, we had no other materials to make weapons. The metal spoons we used during meals could be of use. Except the guards would notice if a couple thousand spoons went missing.

  Eventually, I drifted to sleep.

  “My, my, what a pickle you’re in, my dear,” Tohon said. He lounged next to me on a huge canopy bed, wearing only his black silk pajama pants. “Trying to save the world, again?”

  “I thought I banished you,” I grumbled.

  “You thought wrong.” He patted the space next to him, inviting me closer.

  “Not even in your dreams, Tohon.”

  He tsked. “Nasty. Kerrick’s influence, no doubt. That man really needs to die. He’s been...so close.” Tohon sighed. “At least he’s not here to disturb us, my dear.”

  I ignored him.

  He laughed. “And you left poor Ryne to deal with all the nasties to save one girl.”

  “We’re going to rescue them all,” I shot back.

  “Now who’s being overconfident?” He linked his hands together and rested them on his chest. “You might as well just stay here, my dear. It’ll be safer.”

  Unable to resist, I asked, “Why?”

  “The Skeleton King wants to taste you, Cellina wants to tear you apart, and Ryne wants to chain you to the infirmary. Here they just want you to pray.”

  “I don’t believe in the creator.”

  “Then pray to me, my dear.”

  * * *

  When I woke the next morning, no brilliant ideas had struck me while I slept. However, if desperate, I could point Melina out to Odd and have him take her to the crypt on a trumped-up infraction. If I could find her. But that plan felt wrong. Maybe Odd would have an idea.

  I lingered behind at breakfast, letting the others file out. Odd signaled me and this one I knew. All set?

  I shook my head. He scowled.

  When the room emptied, he fisted the collar of my robe and pushed me against the wall. “What’s going on?” His voice hissed in my ear.

  “Change of plans.”

  “Time’s short. She’s close.”

  Only one she—Estrid. I told him what I hoped to do. “We can’t leave them.”

  “You. Are. Insane.”

  “They’ve been training. We just need weapons.”

  “You need to reconnect with reality. It’s impossible.”

  “Use the sleeping powder I gave you on the guards.” I knew that container I swiped would come in handy.

  “It won’t take them all out.”

  “Better than none. We have to try.”

  He groaned. “When?”

  “After supper before we’re locked up for the night.”

  “Give me a couple days.”

  “Do we have a couple days?”

  “It’ll be tight. I’ll signal you at breakfast when we’re set. Make sure the women are ready.”

  “I will.”

  * * *

  As I knelt and stared at the stained-glass ceiling, I planned how we’d incapacitate the tower guards. An all-out riot wouldn’t work—too noisy. Better to have small units striking at the same time. Half-forgotten memories of conversations between Ryne and his officers flared to life. Ryne had stressed the three key elements in a successful attack were surprise, speed, and intensity.

  A familiar female voice startled me from my planning. Oh, no. I snuck a quick glance in the direction of the commanding tone. Jael. She walked with two priests. What was she doing here?

  “Yes, I’m very excited the High Priestess is returning,” Jael said not sounding excited at all. “And I want to make sure all is well for my mother-in-law’s arrival.”

  Murmurs of assurance from the priests. The desire to hide pulsed in my chest, but I remained in position to keep from attracting attention.

  “Are all the penitents healthy?” Jael asked.

  “Yes, General,” one of the priests said.

  General, eh? With Estrid and her officers trapped and then frozen in stasis, I’d bet no message of Jael’s deceit had been sent to Chinska Mare. So this was where Jael’s been hiding. Smart, very smart. But now that Estrid was returning... What did that mean for Jael?

  “Are they fed and bathed regularly?” Jael asked.

  “Yes, General.”

  “And this is where they pray all day?”

  “From sunup to sundown.”

  “I want to see their sleeping quarters, and then I’ll take a look at your schedules and the books.”

  “Of course, General. Right this way.”

  Their footsteps faded and I bit my lip. Jael’s presence complicated things. Big-time. Her powers could ruin all my plans. Or could it? She had told me she could only affect a dozen people at a time with her air magic. She would increase the danger, but we couldn’t stop now.

  For the first time since I’d been in the monastery, the day flew by. After we returned to our towers, I explained everything to Fydelia. Her smile grew as I talked.

  “No guarantee that this is g
oing to work,” I said. “And now we have General Jael to worry about.”

  “We’ll make it work,” she said. “I already have teams in each tower.”

  “You do?”

  “I told you, we’ve been training for a long time. And we’ll keep the attacks quiet.”

  “You won’t have weapons until Sergeant Odd shows up with his men.”

  “Not a problem. All the tower guards have are their reeds. I just could never figure out how to get past the next barrier without weapons.”

  “I want to be a part of tower ten’s strike team,” I said.

  She studied me. “Do you know hand-to-hand combat?”

  “I have the hand-to-hand thing down. Don’t worry, I can hold my own.”

  Fydelia didn’t appear to be convinced. I told her about my powers.

  And for the first time since I’d known her, Fydelia looked rattled. “You’re that healer who helped Melina?”

  “Yep.”

  “You came to rescue her again?”

  “Yep.”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “Apparently. But I promised her mother,” I fessed up. “Melina wouldn’t cooperate with my original plan, and she had an excellent reason. We can’t leave all of you.”

  “Thank the creator.”

  “Are you sure you want to do that? After all, the creator is the reason you’re in here. Plus you might want to wait to see how all this ends up first.”

  “Have faith.”

  I laughed. We continued to discuss the details. “How will you let the other towers know when to attack?” I asked.

  “During prayers.” She grinned. “We’re packed in so close that there’s lots of communication going on then. The guards can’t watch all of us at the same time. Give me your hand.”

  Curious I held out my right hand. She turned it so my palm faced up. Then she traced a pattern on my palm with her finger nail. “We signal hand to hand. I can do this without looking.”

  “What did it mean?”

  “It’s time.”

  After lights out, I lay on the hard wood of my bunk, marveling at the turn in events. If we rescued them all, that would be a big blow to Estrid. But I kept a tight grip on my emotions. Too many unknowns, and too many things had to go right, which Tohon gleefully pointed out in my dreams every night.

  I’d relax later when we rendezvoused with Kerrick. Perhaps we’d celebrate with a private party—just the two of us in a cozy hollow. My body warmed at the thought. I missed him.

  Cold, harsh reality intruded in the morning. Roused by the guards, we filed out, ate breakfast, visited the privy, and knelt for prayers. Neither Odd nor any of his men was among the guards. Unease swirled. I spent the day listing all the things that could go wrong—a very long list.

  The next morning, I spotted one of Odd’s men with the guards. He ignored me, which meant I’d have to endure yet another day on my knees, staring at the ceiling. I searched my memories, recalling just how many locked doors we’d crossed on our way in. My gaze drifted to the levels framing the window. Remembering the monastery had resembled a wedding cake, I guessed each frame was a floor. I counted eight floors. The towers had seven levels, which fit with what I’d seen. The top of the towers didn’t reach the highest tier.

  Interesting. There were also eight sets of doors on the way to freedom. That meant we were on the ground floor and in the dead center of the square building.

  When we returned to our towers, I realized Fydelia had been right. After seven days on my knees, I didn’t feel quite so stiff and sore and I had healing powers. How long would it have taken my body to adjust without my magic? My opinion of these women increased.

  * * *

  On my eighth day of penitence, Odd signaled me during breakfast. Thank the Flea! At this point, I craved action. Any action other than staring at a window. Now I understood why some women had gone insane.

  I caught Fydelia’s attention and raised my eyebrows. She kept her face neutral, but a spark flared behind her eyes. Game on.

  Last time, last time, last time. I chanted the words in my mind to keep from screaming out loud. Reviewing the attack plan only lasted so long—it was imprinted in my brain at this point. I sneaked a few glances at the guards, earning a couple of whacks. Of the forty-eight inside the center area, only Odd and two of his men were on our side. That left forty-five.

  I scanned for Jael, as well. She hadn’t returned since I’d last seen her, but she had to be up to something. After an eternity, the sun set. Needing my strength, I shoveled the wet paste into my mouth. At this point, even Quain’s squirrel soup would taste divine. Not that I’d tell him.

  I joined the line heading to our tower with Fydelia and the ladies who had been chosen to carry out the attack. With my heart climbing up my throat, I followed the team.

  The four guards of tower ten checked off penitents as the women showed them their bracelets. “...number four-three-seven. Number two-nine-one. Number six-zero-four. Number one-five-nine-five. Number— Oof!”

  Fydelia and her team didn’t hesitate, striking so fast the men didn’t have time to grab their weapons. The team pounced and immobilized the men all in utter silence as I darted in and touched the napes of the guards’ necks, zapping them to ensure they’d stay knocked out for a few hours.

  “Quick, drag them inside,” Fydelia ordered in a low voice. “Strip them. Joelle and Suzanne, change clothes, now.”

  I raced around to the other towers, knocking out any guards that were still conscious and helped to subdue those who resisted. All the guards were locked inside the towers and stripped. Volunteers donned their uniforms.

  Finding Melina in tower four, I gestured to her. “Stay close to me until I say so. Understand?”

  With a gleam in her eyes, she nodded. “Thanks.”

  “Save it for later.”

  Odd helped at tower three. “The others?” he asked.

  “So far, so good.” I zapped the man he had in a head lock. “Oh, and keep an eye out for Jael.”

  “Jael’s here?”

  “She was.” I explained about her visit as we headed for tower one.

  Odd cursed an impressive and creative string of expletives. At tower one, the women had cornered Odd’s man. Blood dripped from a gash on his forehead.

  “He’s with us,” I said, examining the cut. “Not deep, you’ll live.”

  He glanced at the women surrounding us. A variety of fierce and determined expressions glared at him. “Are you sure?” he asked.

  “Have you hit any of them since working here?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then you’re good. Come on, you’re needed up front.”

  The three men stood in front of the first set of locked doors. Fanned out behind them were nine women disguised as guards. Together they represented the first shift change of the evening. Hopefully the men on the other side wouldn’t look too close. The other two thousand plus penitents waited out of sight. They didn’t make a sound.

  Odd knocked on the door at the appropriate time. The panel slid back. Melina grabbed my hand.

  “Yeah?” a voice asked.

  “The princesses are secure,” Odd said.

  Oh, please.

  “Who thought of that code?” the guy grumbled, but he unlocked the door.

  When it swung open, Odd stepped forward. “Brother Quain thought we should be nicer to the ladies.”

  “These aren’t ladies, they’re—”

  Odd grabbed him by the throat. “Careful what you say.”

  The women surged forward. The replacement guards had been waiting in the narrow hallway just behind the guy dangling from Odd’s fist. A cry rippled through them. While they didn’t have swords, they had their reeds and had a little more notice
than their colleagues inside. However, a few swayed on their feet, staring sleepily at the strangely quiet ruckus around them. Odd must have laced their supper with my powder.

  Instructing Melina to keep out of the way of the fighting, I entered the fray to zap a guard or two. During one foray, a guard hooked his arm around my neck.

  “Stop, or I’ll kill her,” he cried.

  No one listened to him. I touched his hand, sending waves of pain into his body. He yelped and sank to his knees, bringing me down with him. Unable to reach the sweet spot, I called for help. Melina and four women pried him off of me and held him so I could knock him out.

  By that time, the others had been neutralized. I touched the remaining guards.

  “Weapons?” Fydelia asked.

  “We stashed a half dozen in the break room down the hall, but there are more once we get past the next barrier,” Odd said.

  All good. And no sign of Jael.

  Fydelia and her group followed Odd. I glanced behind at the lines of women. A few panted from the effort, a few sported cuts and bruises, and a few grinned with vicious delight while the rest appeared nervous. No one said a word. All those days praying in silence had been the perfect training.

  Now armed, Fydelia signaled us to follow her and Odd. We crept along the hallway until we reached another set of locked double doors. Fydelia swept her hand out and the women behind me and Melina formed one line, pressing against the left wall.

  Taking up positions to either side of the doors, Odd, Fydelia, and the five ladies with the swords waited. And waited. And waited.

  I kept expecting the women to murmur with impatience and questions. Maybe because I had to bite my lip to keep from asking Odd what the heck we were—

  The rasp of metal and a loud clang sounded. The doors opened and three priests entered with two guards right behind them.

  “I assure you, Brothers. We’ve been holding penitents for fifty years. No one has ever escaped,” the priest in the middle said.

  Odd and Fydelia jumped them, disarmed the guards, and pinned the priests to the wall with swords pointed at their chests.

  “You were saying, Brother Keidan?” Quain asked, holding his hands up.

  “I...” Brother Keidan stared at Fydelia in utter shock.