She staggered. It was taxing to deflect such blows, and she couldn’t keep it up much longer. She was running out of energy.
The knight turned and ran to retrieve his sword. Min took three steps after him, then Burst upward, landing on the knight as he picked up his sword. He was too slow to retaliate, and she swung downward with all her might, hacking into his neck. Her strike split the chainmail and sank deep, and blood spurted in her face. The knight backhanded her as she landed, and she hadn’t the time or the power to stop the attack. She spun around and hit the ground.
She rolled over and looked for her sword, but her vision was too blurred to see clearly. She could barely make out the knight as he lurched toward her, blood still spraying from her blow. When her vision cleared, he was clutching his neck, trying to stop the bleeding. She had struck an artery, and her confidence soared. Still he staggered toward her, intent on killing her. She struggled to get up, but her head swam and pain flashed through her with every movement.
The knight fell on her, grabbed her by the neck with both hands, and squeezed, intent on ending her life. She fought for breath, pounding his armor impotently. She tried to pry his hands off, but he was too strong, and she was too weak to Burst. Desperately she searched the ground with her hands, looking for something, anything. Then she found a long splinter of wood, and she stabbed it into the knight’s throat.
He reeled and fell back, clutching the splintered piece of wood in both hands. His scream became a gurgle as he pulled it out. She coughed and rolled onto her stomach, trying to catch her breath. The knight pulled a dagger from his belt, even as blood sprayed from his neck. He lurched toward her as she struggled to get up. A second before he reached her, he staggered and fell face down in the dirt.
Chapter 4
Min rolled over onto her hands and knees, greedily sucking in air.
The knight twitched and groaned, somehow still alive. Min groaned. “Why won’t you die you bastard?” She got up, saw her sword on the ground not far away, and staggered over to it. She picked it up, head spinning.
The knight was trying to sit up but floundered like a dying fish.
Min kicked him in the head, sending his helmet flying, placed the tip of the sword in the jugular notch, and hoarsely whispered, “This is for my father.”
She pushed the blade through the knight’s neck and watched the life burn out in his eyes. She kicked his body off her blade and fell to her knees.
It began to rain, and she looked up in confusion, for the sun still shined in the east. The dark cloud that had drifted in from the sea slowly moved north. The rain was a blessing, and put out the fires still burning in the village; they died with an angry hiss.
She abruptly realized many of the villagers had gathered around her, gawking, and she realized they were afraid. Rather than offer thanks or ask if she was all right, they whispered among themselves as if she couldn't hear.
“Did you see how she floated into the air?” one woman said to another.
“She has the power of the Unbound,” a man said in disbelief.
“That's impossible.”
“Then how do you explain how she killed the wyvern?”
She rose to her feet, and they took a collective step back. The fear she saw in their eyes hurt her deeply, for many of these people had known her all her life. There was Viktar Toth holding back his wife Vivian as if Min might suddenly attack. Standing beside the butcher, Gregor, was Raen Maruck and her husband, Petra, staring at her as though they hadn’t had her over to their home a dozen times.
“What are you all looking at?” she barked, and a few of them jumped in surprise and fright.
“Come, child,” said Grimulda, who suddenly appeared beside her.
Min tried to push her away, but the old woman was stronger than she appeared and pulled Min close. She stopped fighting as exhaustion washed over her, and Grimulda gingerly led her to the edge of town.
“You have made your choice,” said Grimulda. “Now all people will look at you that way, for they are afraid of what they do not understand.”
“Father,” said Min. “I must bury him.”
“All in good time. We must tend to your wounds.”
She remembered her leg being pinned under the beam, and now that the thrill of battle had worn off, it throbbed maddeningly. Without Grimulda's support, she would have dropped right there and slept in the street. She glanced at the leg; the pant leg was soaked with blood, and a two inch splinter stuck out of it.
The soothsayer’s hut was bright and welcoming in the daylight. Beautiful things were inside that she had not seen the night before. Paintings she had not noticed hung upon the walls, each depicting the sea in bright aquamarine with the moon in its many phases—a different one in each painting. Strange dolls were placed across the length of the main beam, each with a haunting kind of beauty and catlike eyes that stared at her as she was led to the cot near the stove.
“Rest your head.” Grimulda helped her sit, then laid a soft blanket around her shoulders. The room spun, she was so tired.
Grimulda tore her pant leg open to reveal the wound, poked at it a bit, and then fussed about, gathering things from the shelves. Lightheaded from fatigue and loss of blood, Min laid down. The injury hadn’t looked too bad. She would be okay.
She smiled drunkenly at the old hag when she touched Min’s head, then all strength left her, and she succumbed to beckoning slumber.
She saw a starry sky through the window when she awoke. A fire burned low in the fireplace, casting a warm glow in the room. Grimulda was rocking in her chair and stitching a doll's leg back on, a doll that looked a lot like Min.
“I must bury my father,” said Min, her voice sounding strange to her, the effort like vomiting thorns soaked in bile.
“I picked up his shell from the village square while you were sleeping. It is safe in my wagon for the time being.” Grimulda kept her eyes on her sewing.
Min glanced at her left leg, noticing the fresh bandage. She noticed also that she was naked beneath the fur blanket that covered her. “Where are my clothes?”
“I hung them up to dry. I suppose they are the only clothes you own now.”
That gave Min pause, and she bowed her head in sorrow. “I prayed to the goddess Aerria for a chance to prove myself as an Unbound. Has she answered my prayers by sending a wyvern to kill my father and burn down my home?”
“Perhaps.” Grimulda shrugged, and her eyes met Min's. “Many say in many tongues, be careful what you pray for.”
“How many are dead?”
“Last count, twenty-seven. More they find in the rubble every hour.”
“This is all my fault,” she whispered shakily.
Grimulda laughed mirthlessly. “Do you think the wyvern rider got it in his head to attack the village because a girl prayed to a goddess for a sign? I was joking before. You had nothing to do with this.”
“Didn’t I? You didn't make me pay yesterday because you said you would owe me in the future. You knew I would save your life.”
Grimulda nodded and pursed her wrinkled lips.
“You knew the wyvern would attack.” She threw back the covers and got off the cot. Her leg gave out momentarily, but she found her balance and wrapped the blanket over her shoulders. She approached the soothsayer. “You knew this would happen.”
“I see many things, but I know nothing. The future is a fluid, living thing. It changes with every small decision made by every living creature. Even if I was sure, what could I do to stop it? I have given warnings of calamities that never come to pass, so now the ears of our leaders are deaf to my counsel.” Grimulda shrugged and offered a two-toothed grin. “You could say I am witch who cried dragon.”
“You knew.” She moved into Grimulda's light, casting a shadow over the doll in the old soothsayer’s lap. “Don’t try to act like you’re only a simple cog in a wheel.”
“What does it matter now?” Grimulda waved her off. “The dead are dead.”
<
br /> “You could have warned me about my father.”
“I am not a god!” Grimulda growled, and the ferocity in her voice startled Min. “I do not see all, and what I do see is always a curse I would rather be dumb and blind to.”
Min angrily turned from the woman and found her clothes. She was quite done with the soothsayer. Everything that had happened since Min had gone to see her was a disaster.
The old woman is cursed, thought Min. I am cursed as well.
“You should not move so hastily until those stitches are healed,” said Grimulda calmly.
Min finished dressing, ignoring the pain in her leg and the old soothsayer, she went outside to the cart beside the house. A black shroud covered the lump in back, and her throat constricted.
“Min?”
Johann stood at the gate, fidgeting with his hat. The sight of her old friend warmed her heart. She wanted to run to him, wrap herself in his strong arms, and cry her heart out, but she did not.
She could not.
“Help me bury Father?” she asked hoarsely.
He frowned, and she saw how her injuries pained him. He went through the gate and down the path with long, sure strides. He wore a Sunday suit untarnished by the death and destruction of the dark afternoon. He lived uptown, which had been spared the wyvern’s fury.
Johann stopped before her and frowned. It was a look that did not sit well on his handsome, ever-jovial face. “Min, I'm so sorry.”
She shrugged away from him when he reached for her. “Find some shovels.”
He took her by the shoulders and held her firmly, staring into her eyes and trying to force her to engage.
She pushed a shovel at him, forcing him to back-step, and laid another one in the cart, careful not to touch the shroud and what it covered. Taking up the two handles, she pulled the cart to the street.
Johann raced after her and rushed to take up one side. “Let me help you.”
Had it not been for her leg, she would have refused, but each step made the wound burn and throb. After a few excruciating blocks, she let him take both handles and walked beside the wagon. There was no need for her to tell him where to go; he had visited her mother’s grave with her on more than one occasion, and he knew her father had a plot beside her mother.
They proceeded into the village in silence, for which Min was grateful. She did not trust the words that might issue from her mouth should he insist on speaking to her. She was still angry about him going behind her back and asking her father for her hand. Not only was it an insult to her that he didn't even consider her opinion, but it had put a wedge between Min and her father during his final days.
The smell of death permeated the air on this side of town, and when the wind shifted to the north, the stench was almost unbearable. Johann avoided the main street, where Min’s home and most of the destruction was located, and went to the cemetery in a roundabout way.
When finally they reached the gates, they saw dozens of newly dug graves. The steady, sound of digging rang through the graveyard.
One of the diggers stopped and yelled to them, “We’ve got a dozen more to dig yet. Come back in the morning.”
“We'll dig it ourselves,” Min said and held up the shovel she had been leaning on the last five blocks.
“Shouldn't we have a proper funeral for him?” Johann asked when they drew up beside her mother's grave.
“No.” She stared at her father's blank headstone. “His friends can have a ceremony if they want. I am the last of the family, and I'm leaving after this is finished.”
“Leaving?” he said, shocked. “Where will you go? This is your home.”
“I'm going to kill the son of the Seadryk chief, Mazer Vheck.” Min began to dig, favoring her injured leg but ignoring the pain. Life was pain; what was the point in fighting it?
Johann gawked at her. “Min.”
She ignored him.
“Min, talk to me.” He touched her shoulder, and she Burst against the contact, making his arm jerk back. He stared, hurt and perplexed.
“That look on your face?” she said. “That is why I never told you I was an Unbound.”
“That's not fair. You know I would have accepted you.”
She continued to dig. “It doesn't matter anymore.”
“I still want to marry you,” he blurted. He hadn’t thought it through. He had spoken urgently, straight from the heart, and that made it so much harder.
She stopped, head bowed and lip quivering. She bit it until she tasted blood, and the weakness passed. “You should have warned me before you asked my father. I had no idea you wanted to…. We were best friends.”
“We still are, and isn’t that what makes a great marriage?”
“I cannot be your wife.” She looked away, unable to witness his pleading look any longer. She didn’t deserve such affection, and she didn’t want it. “I can never mother your children, Johann.”
“Why not? Why does life have to be so complicated for you?” he asked solemnly.
“Do you think I want it this way?” She pulled up her shirt and showed him the burning scar. “I cannot mother your children or any man’s. When that bastard gave me this, he took away my chance of ever having children.”
Johann straightened as if he had made a decision. “It matters not to me.”
“Yes it does, and it matters to me too. You deserve a woman who can give you strapping boys and beautiful girls. You've spoken of it often enough for me to know it’s something you want.”
“I want you.”
She held up a staying hand, halting his advance. “You never asked me, you know.”
“I’m asking you now,” he said, beautiful in his suit and high hat.
“I’m not the girl for you, and you should thank the gods for that.”
“But—”
“If you love me, be quiet and dig.” She scooped up and tossed dirt.
He dug in earnest silence, and an hour later a six-foot deep, rectangular hole awaited her father's body.
After gently lowering him into the ground with ropes that the clever Grimulda had put in the cart, she stood over the open grave, wondering what she should say.
What was there to say to the dead, who could not hear?
Or could they?
“Father,” she began, but her throat constricted painfully. She swallowed hard and straightened. “I know you never wanted me to join the Unbound Academy, and now I know why. I have seen it in the people’s faces. But I have this power, and I must use it. I will travel to Seadryk Island, and I will avenge mother. This I promise. Goodbye, Father. I love you.”
Tears came, and this time she let them fall.
Chapter 5
Johann helped her fill in the grave and then they silently made their way back into town. Min went to her destroyed home to salvage what was left of it. The roof had been torn off and most of the place was burned. It broke her heart wading through the rubble and seeing what had become of the shop and their house.
That was where mother had bathed her. Over there was the place where Father had read to her many a night by the flickering fire. The wyvern flame was so intense, it had melted most of the metal in the shop, but her father kept the finer things in the cellar. With Johann's help she removed the rubble that lay on the trap door and descended with a lantern.
The flames had not reached the small room, and she found what she was looking for in two chests against the north wall.
“Bring this up please.” She handed the larger chest to Johann. After he lugged it up the steps, she removed the loose brick in the wall and pulled out a small coin purse. She opened it. Twelve gold coins were still inside. She stuffed it in her pocket, picked up the smaller chest, and joined Johann upstairs.
Above ground again in the blackened remnants of her life, she set the smaller chest on the soot-covered anvil and unlocked it with a key she carried at all times. The lid rolled back silently, and the light of the lantern shone on two ornate ivory scabbards.
She lifted one out and unsheathed the blade, which gleamed in the lamplight.
“Did you make that?” Johann asked, his voice low.
“I made them both. She turned the blade in the light and watched it dance off the metal. “The ivory is from the deep Arzzek south, and the metal is from the Duunin dwarven mines and enchanted by the Jadarri elves.”
“Enchanted to do what?” Johann asked, completely out of his element. He was a butcher’s son, not a warrior.
“I do not know,” she said with a smile that did not relent however hard she tried to tame it. “I told father I had lost the metal and the ivory, and I worked for a season to repay the dwarves and elves, but in the end it was worth it, because look at what I have.”
“What do you have?”
He would never truly understand her. He would just keep on wanting her for his own selfish reasons.
“The instruments of revenge,” she said and sheathed the blade.
From the larger chest she produced a fine set of chain mail and leather armor she had purchased from a trader the previous spring. That trader, a stout dwarven fellow named Reundin, had secretly fashioned it for Min at a hefty price, but she’d saved her earnings for nearly two seasons for it, and to her it was priceless. The leather had no shine and fit her perfectly. She had imagined that one day she would wear the fine armor to the Unbound Academy, but now she knew that would never happen.
If Mazer Vheck’s prophetic dream came true, she would die when he died. She intended to kill him, regardless of the price.
There was nothing left for her in the village—no blacksmith shop, no family—and her secret had been revealed. The people she had called neighbors would treat her like a freak after this incident with the wyvern and its rider.
Ascension Page 3
