A Time of War and Demons

by S E Wendel

  “There was sewing to do,” she grumbled.

  “I see. Nothing too serious I hope.”

  “If I never see another shift or nightgown, it will be too soon.”

  “They don’t need you to return today?”

  “No. Not that I would.” She smiled wickedly.

  He grinned too and handed over the plans she’d drawn. “You should have a good view from about there,” he said, pointing at the middle of the hill the great house stood upon.

  “That should do nicely,” she said. “From there I can make a quick retreat back into town if things go wrong.”

  “Your confidence is inspiring,” he said with a laugh.

  Ennis watched as he broke the men into two groups, some to go into the forest and help log, while the others would start hoisting the ones that had been cut yesterday. It was an hour before the first pole was levered into place, but when it stood straight after a tense moment of swaying, Ennis just about jumped up and cheered.

  Her eyes found Manek, and she smiled to see the pride radiating from him as he looked up the length of the first log. When he saw her watching him, he smiled at her and soon came over as the men prepared to hoist the second log into place.

  “So far so good,” she said.

  “Do you know any blessings for walls?” he asked. “I’m told most are blessed one way or another.”

  “I know one,” she said, motioning for him to follow.

  When they reached the solitary pole, she asked for a knife.

  He gave her a bemused look before handing over a knife he pulled from his boot. She pricked her finger with it and let two beads drop to the ground before the pole.

  “You too,” she said.

  Once he’d done so, she intoned, “Ma’an, keeper of keeps, may this wall stand as you do. Shoulder it against any who would dare attack those it protects. Guard those who live within so long as this blood runs hot.” She looked over at him and stuck out her tongue when she saw him about to laugh. “How was that?”

  He leaned a little closer and said, “Well, if it does fall down, it really is your fault now.”

  She gave him a mock scowl and marched back up to her spot on the slope of the hill. When she’d sat back down, she waved for him to continue work.

  For the remainder of the morning, she watched the men work, her plans spread out on the grass around her. It took them several tries to master getting a newly hoisted log as close as possible to its neighbor and then pushing it into place so that no holes were left.

  It was almost noon when a group of two dozen men came from Rising, calling out to Manek. They met him at the base of the hill Ennis sat upon, and she watched on, curious.

  “You should have a smooth journey,” Manek told them, “with the river swollen from all this rain.”

  Ennis recognized several of Manek’s captains amongst the men, and after they confirmed they were to barter for fifty new warhorses, the men started across the plain towards the Oltaraani ships banked on the rocky shore of the Morroley.

  Manek mounted the hill to stand beside her, but she didn’t have the chance to ask him what the men were doing. He waved at someone over her shoulder, and she turned to see his mother, Kasia, heading down the slope bearing a heavy tray of food, two girls Ennis new worked in the house following behind with more.

  With a hearty smile, she crooned down to the men working below to come and get lunch. They did so eagerly, calling into the woods to tell the others. As they came and received their thick slice of bread with a slab of meat and cheese, they thanked Kasia profusely, calling her a gift from Ceralia. If Kasia had had feathers, she would’ve preened, so happy was she at all the attention, just about glowing by the time the last lunch was taken.

  Ennis watched from the corner of her eye, trying to ignore the rumbling in her stomach. She hadn’t eaten since the night before, not even sparing time to make herself bland oats that morning in her haste. When she spied that there was only one lunch left, with Manek standing empty-handed beside his mother, Ennis realized she might have to steel herself to make it through the rest of the day until another bowl of thin soup.

  Once all the men had moved back down the hill, Ennis heard Manek say, “Is there another?”

  Ennis pretended she hadn’t heard, gazing pointedly down at one of the diagrams in her lap, but her ears pricked nonetheless. She heard Kasia take a sharp breath.

  “I’m not feeding the likes of her,” Manek’s mother hissed.

  Ennis’s jaw set, and it took all of her will not to throw a handful of grass and dirt at Kasia and tell her she didn’t want to eat her Lowland gruel anyhow. The only thing that stopped her was Manek.

  “She’s helping just as much as them.”

  “She’s a Highlander.”

  “Well, she’s here now. That makes her Lowlander.”

  Ennis could almost see Kasia’s small mouth puckering in something between a pout and a scowl. She couldn’t make out the older woman’s mutterings, but she did hear her begin to stalk off towards the house. Somehow, she doubted Kasia would be coming back.

  A moment later, Manek sat down beside her, their shoulders bumping. Ennis straightened and glanced over at him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said and began ripping his meal into unequal halves. He handed her the larger portion.

  Her stomach growled loudly as she took it. She grimaced, wishing her stomach had more tact. She thanked him, then bit into the bread and meat greedily. As she chewed, she was loath to admit that Kasia made wonderful bread. She tried to pace herself, noticing that Manek ate rather absentmindedly, but still finished before him.

  To distract herself from daydreaming about more bread and meat, Ennis asked, “Where are they going?” She nodded at the group down at the river, preparing the Oltaraani ships to sail.

  “Upriver,” Manek said as he chewed, “to Kennick’s.”

  “And who’s Kennick?”

  “The chieftain of another southerly tribe. I’m sending them to trade for warhorses. Everyone in the Lowlands knows that the finest horses come from Wheatfield.”

  “Your beast comes from there?”

  Manek agreed around a mouthful of cheese.

  “Are they Mithrian?”

  “No. They’ve been in the Meadowlands long before Mithrians set foot in the Lowlands.”

  “But you’re allies?”

  “Yes. At least trade partners. My father isn’t their warlord.”

  “Ah. Then why are you so much friendlier with them than the Oltaraani?”

  “We each have something the other wants.”

  Ennis’s eyebrows rose. “How shrewd of you.”

  He shrugged. “We’ve never been at odds with the Horsemen. They want to keep us close in case the clans in the Mountain Lands decide to attack again.”

  “Are there many?”

  “About as many as there are here. Now they are Mithrian. They went to the mountains during the second migration. Larn despises them. They’ve been pushing further south into Kennick’s lands to avoid him.”

  “And would you help Kennick, if he called on you?”

  “If I could, yes.”

  “Have you considered trying to be allies with these mountain people?”

  “That would insult Kennick.”

  “Well, if you could moderate a peace between them, you’d unite much of the south.”

  He cocked an eyebrow at her. “We get seven logs up for a wall and you’re already thinking about making a kingdom.”

  She shrugged. “Haven’t you?”

  He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. She was rather surprised at him. From what she’d guessed about the Midlands, making a kingdom was Larn’s aim. He was more than a warlord, commanding bannermen and troops; he was making himself a king, with the Lowlands, and now even Highcrest, as vassals.

  A shout drew their attention, and they saw Taryn waving at them. The men had finished their lunch and were ready to resume.

  Standing, Manek stretche
d out his back. He reached down and offered her his hand.

  She took it and he pulled her up.

  He squeezed her hand, his gaze intent. When they’d first met, Ennis had thought his eyes brown, but today, with the sun shining down on him and making the tints of auburn in his hair glint, they seemed closer to molten gold, with flecks of green and even red dotting the iris. Tamea take her, he had fine eyes. Especially when they crinkled at the edges in a smile.

  “Ennis, I hope you know how much I appreciate your help.”

  She blinked at him.

  “I know I haven’t…I know everything that’s happened to you is my fault. You would be justified not wanting to lift a finger to help me or my people. So thank you, truly.”

  All she could do was stare at him. She’d had apologies from him before, but none that struck her as deeply. He really did look like she’d done him an invaluable service. Even if she’d built the whole wall herself, she didn’t think she could get a more heartfelt look.

  “Well,” she said, finally letting herself smile, “you did ask nicely.”

  He smiled too, and she was relieved. She didn’t know what she would do if he’d continued looking at her like that. It made her swallow hard. Had she lied to Lora?

  She watched with curiosity and dread as something flashed across those warm amber eyes of his—a feeling, a question, and she thanked all the gods she could think of when someone shouted Manek’s name.

  His gaze flicked over her shoulder, and his face hardened ever so slightly. As he stepped around her, letting go of her hand, she turned to look too.

  Several riders were trotting towards Manek. Her heart beat loudly in her chest, falling to her feet for a moment when she thought it was Midlanders. Manek’s casual pace and relaxed shoulders told her it couldn’t be Larn’s summons, so she followed him. The four men were in travelling clothes, their sleeves rolled up. Saddle bags on each horse suggested a journey.

  “And how’s he doing?” she heard Manek ask as she stopped a few paces away from him and the riders.

  “He’s well,” one man said. “He sent you these.” Two men untied a pile of furs strapped behind their saddles, tossing them gently onto the ground, as the other two fished a collection of coins and pearls out of their bags to show Manek.

  “You’d think I’d asked a ransom of him,” Manek said, inspecting the pile of goods.

  “He said they were for horses,” said one of the men.

  “Ah. Very good. Your timing is perfect then—the ships haven’t left yet.”

  As the men piled the smaller, loose treasure into one saddle bag to give over, one man said, “They’re a fine folk, Carmethians. We drank for a full day before he’d let us return.”

  “I’ve never seen a people more enamored with fish, though!” said another. This earned laughs all around.

  “Has he sent me anything else?” Manek asked.

  The first man twisted around and fished a parcel of papers from his saddle bag, handing it to Manek.

  Manek nodded and said, “Off with you now—back to your wives.”

  “And their beds!”

  The four men turned their horses towards town as Manek looked over his shoulder to find Ennis standing not far off.

  He closed the distance between them, handing her the parcel. “If you would.”

  She broke the seal with a flourish. There were two small, sturdy pieces of paper within a finely folded covering, and she picked out the first one.

  “He sends you fond greetings and hopes all is right with your world. All is right with his. He says he will muster as many men as he can spare—it should be almost double what he brought last campaign. He cannot bring that number of horses, however, and sends you what should be enough for a score. He can bring the rest.”

  Ennis looked at the loot at Manek’s feet. “All that for only twenty horses? By Themin, you could ransom a town with that.”

  “Warhorses come at a steep price.”

  She turned to look at Manek’s warhorse, grazing near the men working on the wall. She didn’t think she’d ever met a more apathetic animal. “Are you sure they’re worth it?”

  Manek followed her gaze and laughed. “Yes, when it counts. But Kennick can charge whatever he likes and I’ll pay it.”

  “Hm. I see now why you’re trade partners, not allies.”

  Grinning wryly, Manek nodded at the papers. “What else?”

  She took a moment to find her place again. “He’ll meet you at the Forks in the first days of spring so you can march into Scallya together. He hopes that you Lowland dogs will make a sight to see in Larn’s Black City.” She glanced up to find Manek grinning to himself. “He wishes your family well—your mother love and your father strength. That’s it.”

  Manek nodded. “Good. Everything’s in order there.”

  “There’s another letter.”

  Dearest Ennis… The smile fell from her face, not quite believing Essa’s delicate scrawl lay on the page.

  Dearest Ennis, I cried when I received your letter—it makes me so happy to read your words and know that you are well. I have read your letter a hundred times and hold it close to me when the night is long. I miss you so. I have never known a place as gray as Carmetheon. Oh, Ennis, I wish I were with you now. I am well enough. Waurin’s mother, Elodie, is a kind woman and has devoted long hours to teaching me many things. There is so much to do I haven’t the time to be sad. But sometimes, when I cannot sleep, I think of Highcrest. Do you let yourself think about it? Can you feel the stones beneath your fingers? Can you smell Cook’s peppermint tea? You know, I fear I am forgetting what Father sounded like. Is that possible? To hear him speak, one more time! I know I would remember forever if I could just hear him once more.

  The paragraph stopped abruptly, as if Essa decided against writing more in that vein.

  Forgive my rambling, the letter continued, I am just lonely, I suppose. In Highcrest I used to wish you and our sisters would let me alone, if only for a day. How foolish that was. Write back to me soon, fill pages and pages, even if they are just reminders not to slouch and or put my elbows on the table. I will treasure them. Until then, I remain, faithfully, your sister, Essa Courtnay.

  “Ennis?”

  She realized her face was damp. Her hands flew to her face, hiding her tears from Manek, who looked on, concerned.

  “Is something wrong?”

  She shook her head. “No, no—my sister has written me.” The words brought a smile to her face, and her crying and smiling seemed to only confuse Manek more.

  “Isn’t that good?”

  “Yes, it’s very good!” She dried her eyes. “I must tell Irina.” Putting a hand on Manek’s shoulder, she said, “I’ll be right back—I have to let Irina read this!”

  She didn’t wait for his reply, just hiked up her skirts and headed as fast as her legs would carry her back towards the Haven. It was the first time she’d ever run back.

  She should have thought it odd that none of the Sisters were in the garden or makeshift temple. The Haven stood quiet, making Ennis nervous. She slowed to a walk for the last paces and opened the door hesitantly, as if expecting it to be empty.

  The sound of chanting filled her ears. Frowning, Ennis entered the Haven, shutting the door quietly behind her. She crept to the threshold of the hall and peered in.

  All the Sisters stood in a circle, their hair drenched, dripping water down their backs, with a fresh white cloth over the crown of their heads. They all had their hands on the opposite shoulder, their arms clasped close to their chests. Their lips moved as one, chanting a rite Ennis had only heard once.

  In the middle of the circle stood Irina, completely naked, and wet from head to foot. Her skin glistened in the midday light, and a large puddle pooled around her. She held her hands away from her, parallel with the floor, palms up. Her eyes closed, her mouth moved silently to mime the words the others spoke.

  Without thinking, Ennis took up a large blanket laying just i
nside the threshold and threw it around Irina. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  The hall fell silent.

  “It’s Irina’s time, Ennis.”

  Ennis’s head whipped around so she could glare at Renata.

  “Irina has found her way to the Mother, and now it’s time for her to take her vows. You’d do well not to disturb us.”

  With a pang, Ennis realized Renata had wanted her out of the Haven today.

  “She can’t,” Ennis said. “There aren’t new warprizes from campaign.”

  “Irina has found the Mother sooner than most. I won’t deny her the solace of being with Her. Besides, you’re amongst the people more than enough to compensate.”

  “Ennis, perhaps you should go.”

  She looked back at her sister and found a pained face. Irina’s delicate brows were drawn together, deep lines running under her eyes. She shivered under the blanket Ennis had thrown over her.

  Shoving Essa’s letter under Irina’s nose, Ennis said, “I came to show you this. Essa’s written from Carmetheon! She says she’s well and she wants us to write back.” She waited expectantly, but Irina would barely look at the paper let alone take it. “Well?”

  Irina swallowed hard. “That’s wonderful. Of course I want to read it, but—”

  “She must see this through. No more interruptions,” said Renata, face sharp.

  Ignoring the Sister, Ennis tried to force the letter into Irina’s hands. “She wants to hear from us, Irina. She’s alone there—she’s unhappy. We have to try—”

  “Ennis, don’t—”

  “Irina is the Mother’s now—a divine daughter, our sister. She’s forsaking all earthly ties. Your letter will have to wait.”

  “She’s my sister!” Ennis roared, rounding on Renata. “Irina is my sister, and so is Essa. This—” she pointed wildly all around at the Haven “—this isn’t a family!” Turning back to Irina, she said more softly, “We’re her family. I’m her sister.”

  Tears streamed down Irina’s face, and Ennis had some to match.

  “You are my sister, Ennis,” Irina said. “So please, understand that I have to do this.”

  “She’s manipulating you!” she said through a sob, pointing an accusatory finger at Renata.