Thrall

by Barbara Ann Wright

Laret swirled her mead. “There was a girl from the market.”

  “Ah ha!”

  Laret had to smile. “It was short-lived. I told her a lie.”

  “And she caught you at it?”

  Laret nodded. She’d tried pretending to be the son her father had always wanted. “What about you? Is Aesa your first and only love?”

  Maeve leaned her chin on her palm. “What if I told you that we had an…understanding while apart?”

  Laret tried not to hold her breath. “What sort of understanding?”

  “Being alone is difficult. Passion still burns. As long as that passion does not follow us home.” She shrugged. Her eyes seemed to suck up the flame, and Laret found her gaze drawn to Maeve’s lips as memories of the market girl pulled at her.

  “But this is your home.”

  Maeve leaned back, breaking her spell. “Now you always speak the truth. Your girl from the market would be proud.”

  Laret sighed and sat back as well. She knew she should tell Maeve the truth and come what may. At the very least, Maeve would stop these strange advances.

  Or, another voice suggested, she might not stop.

  Laret sighed deeply, and Maeve prodded her again. “Are you still pining for your lost love?”

  “I…have a secret.”

  The silence around them grew and grew, but Laret couldn’t force the words out.

  Maeve sat forward. “You have cursed someone, haven’t you?”

  Laret stood, adrenaline from her near admission coursing through her, feeding fear into anger. “After everything we’ve spoken about, how can you even think that?”

  Maeve stood with her and reached out. “I was only teasing!”

  Laret jerked her arm away.

  “Please, Laret, I was only trying to be funny. It was stupid. I shouldn’t have said it.”

  And it wasn’t really Maeve she was angry with. Fool, she called herself. Gutless, witless fool. “I’m tired.”

  “I didn’t mean it. I know you haven’t cursed anyone. Come.” She tugged on Laret’s arm again, smiling softly. “Tell me your secret. I won’t reveal it even under threat of death, not even to Aesa. I won’t even speak again until you’ve said it.”

  “I want to go to bed.”

  Maeve sighed, and Laret knew she’d get no teasing remark about whose bed she’d be in. She turned away before Maeve could say anything else.

  *

  Maeve stared into the flames and listened to the sounds of Laret not sleeping. At least she wasn’t weeping. As much as Laret wanted to be alone, Maeve wouldn’t have been able to stand the sound of her crying alone in bed.

  She stared at the line of Laret’s back. Maybe she’d gone too far in her teasing. Or maybe Laret’s secret weighed too heavily, and she wouldn’t feel free until she spoke it.

  But what if it was something horrible? What if she’d murdered people? Maeve frowned at the thought. Why would Laret murder someone if she wouldn’t curse them? Maybe there was something she was ashamed of. Maybe someone else’s shame could draw it out.

  But how great a shame? The worst she had? Well, how much did she want Laret to trust her? “A few years ago, I turned my back on someone who needed my help.”

  Laret shifted slightly.

  “Aesa and I were in the woods with some of her kinsman. There was one in particular, Albrecht, the oldest of the arbiter’s children, Aesa’s older brother. Everyone expected him to one day win his father’s title. He was smart, strong, handsome, too, and he knew the law. By the rotting gods, I hated his imperiousness, his overconfidence. I hated that Aesa worshiped him. I walked off by myself, and soon I heard them call out. Albrecht had fallen. He was hurt.”

  She winced but forced the words out. “I ignored them. I remember thinking he deserved a little suffering for never letting anyone forget who his father was. I’d heard some of the town girls say that he wondered aloud who his bondmate might be, just to get them to fight. Still, I knew they wouldn’t call for a healer unless he was badly hurt; I just didn’t care. I thought a bad injury would teach him that he wasn’t an immortal fae from the old tales. When I finally returned to the town, they’d already carried him back, the side of his head split open. He was pale as a corpse.”

  After a moment, Laret turned. “He died?”

  “Still breathing, just barely. I healed him. He thanked me; they all did, and I’ve never felt so sick in all my life.” She barked a laugh. “He offered to make me his bondmate, a true offer.”

  Laret sucked in a breath. “Did you consider it?”

  Maeve shrugged. “He was handsome, and my eye has always found something to admire wherever it roams.” She smiled at the thought. “But I was already in love with Aesa, and I knew one experience wouldn’t change him forever. I felt too guilty to benefit from what I’d done.”

  “What did Aesa say when you told her this?”

  Maeve slid her lower lip across her teeth. “I didn’t. She assumed I couldn’t hear them, that I’d wandered too far away. I didn’t correct her.”

  Laret’s eyebrows shot up. “She still doesn’t know?”

  “I could never think of a way to say it. So, now you know my great secret. Whatever you’re hiding, can it be as bad as almost killing my bondmate’s kinsman?”

  Laret cracked a tiny smile. “You made a mistake.” She turned back toward the wall. “You’re not a terrible person, either.”

  Maeve supposed that was the best she was going to get for the night. But now she’d created a path between them, Laret might be more inclined to cross.

  Chapter Ten

  No one stirred in the small collection of huts. A torn robe, a wooden spoon, and a broken plate lay discarded in the street. Everything else had disappeared. Perhaps the sheep people had finally found their fear. Or maybe the guards just knew how to motivate them.

  Aesa tried not to let her relief show. She told herself there was nothing wrong with not wanting to witness a slaughter, even if the idea of one shouldn’t bother her. The sheep weren’t her people, after all. But the tickle in her mind wouldn’t go away. If the sheep people couldn’t strive to become something other than a thrall, they should at least try to protect their own lives. Who watched their own death coming and did nothing?

  “They left a trail even a blind woman could follow,” Velka said. Gilka waved for her to scout ahead, and the rest followed.

  This new path turned long before the gully they’d fought in before, and Aesa smelled smoke just as Velka signaled a halt. They continued slowly, stopping where the trees began to thin. A large village lay ahead, smaller than Skellis and clustered on the banks of a river.

  “These people must have no enemies,” Gilka said, “not of the two-legged variety, or they’d have a wall.”

  Hilfey pointed to some stout animal pens. “There must be predators, though. You don’t need a fence that strong to keep a few pigs inside. The guards must fight wild animals or round up stray sheep.”

  Otama yawned. “Maybe the guards trade the sheep back and forth. Maybe sometimes they fight each other for them.” She glanced at Aesa. “Maybe the Bruna would buy some from us. The sheep are probably very tender, and I’m sure the Bruna would appreciate prey that didn’t run.”

  “Wisest not to kill them, then,” Hilfey said.

  “Can’t take slaves,” Della added. “Where in the name of the rotten gods would we put them?”

  Aesa tried to prepare herself for sheep bodies strewn among the rest. It wouldn’t bother her, she told herself. She wouldn’t let it.

  No one moved outside of the village, and it was too hard to see inside the densely packed houses. Gilka sent a team of scouts, but when guards poured from the village, she whistled, and they darted back.

  Gilka led her crews forward as more lizard horses ventured from the village. Other guards advanced on foot. These seemed more cautious, staying together as a unit. Maybe a squadron of skeletons had taught them caution.

  Gilka put on her shield and brought h
er hammer up. She broke into a jog, her captains with her, the rest of the crews fanning out around them. Aesa kept far to the side with the other archers. Once in range, she took aim and fired at the mass of charging guards.

  As the first arrows whizzed past, Gilka broke into a full run, smashing into the guards with a clang of steel. Voices rang out across the battlefield, the yells of the crew and then the cries of the wounded and dying. The high-pitched roar of the lizard horses carried over the noise along with the echoing, singsong voices of their riders.

  A guard rushed Aesa from out of the press, bearing sword and shield. Caught without a nocked arrow, she cast her bow aside, and drew the small axe Hilfey had loaned her. The guard swung hard, his sharp teeth gleaming. Aesa dodged, but his sword rang off the small buckler Della had given her.

  This guard turned fast, catching her axe on his shield. She pressed, trying to keep him off balance. He crouched under her assault and then sprang up, shoving with his shield while he swung for her again.

  She shifted out of the way, trying to keep her feet. She dodged until his back was turned to the fray, and he didn’t notice Runa behind him. Runa flung a hand forward, and he staggered, blinking at nothing, whirling as if Aesa was beside him rather than in front. Aesa hacked at his neck, and he fell.

  “Here!” Runa called.

  Aesa stowed her axe and caught the bow as Runa lobbed it.

  “Just as before,” Runa said.

  Aesa stood in front of her, reserving arrows for those who came close as Runa began to chant. From the rear of the guards’ formation, a guardswoman on a black lizard horse turned in their direction. She shook a staff, and a wave of blackness streaked toward them like a diving hawk.

  Aesa flung herself into Runa, knocking them both down. The black bolt hurtled through where they’d been standing and struck a tree at the edge of the forest. It sagged, shedding leaves with a loud, slithery sound, the bark curling black like rotten fruit.

  “Bastard spoiled my chant!” Runa yelled.

  The guard witch raised her staff again, and Runa hooked her arm under Aesa’s, drawing them up and around the press of fighters, out of sight of the guard witch. “Can you see Gilka?”

  Aesa craned her neck. “There.” Gilka faced off against a lizard horse, its huge mouth gaping. The sharp teeth closed around her shield. It tried to whip its head, but Gilka planted her feet and leaned back, pulling it forward. Its eye caved in under the weight of her hammer, the cracking bone echoing above the fight. The lizard horse began a keen that cut short as Gilka hit it again, her hammer rising and falling until the thing’s head turned to pulp.

  “We can get to her,” Aesa said.

  “Wait. Look there.”

  Aesa squinted at what looked like a pile of old clothes on the edge of the press. No, she thought as they came closer. It had been a person, dead a long time, a skeleton in rags.

  “Like the tree,” Runa said. “That was Gilnir, Captain Hekka’s witch. The woman with the staff is picking us off as we begin our chants.”

  From behind, they heard another chanter. She had her arms raised to the sky, eyes closed. A black streak arced over the fighters.

  “Get down,” Aesa yelled right as Runa cried, “Stop chanting!” They ran for her, but the black bolt was faster. It slammed into both her and the warrior who tried to tackle her. They shrieked and fell, bodies desiccated, armor a rusted hulk, and clothing turned to brittle rags.

  “Draw your axe,” Runa said. Aesa followed her into the fight, all the way to Gilka’s side. “There’s an enemy witch with powerful magic,” Runa yelled. “We can’t use wyrds or wylds until she’s dead.”

  “Press forward!” Gilka cried, and the howls of her captains answered her. Aesa squeezed into the shield wall, Runa just behind her. She hacked at one guard, and he dodged too close to Gilka’s swinging hammer. Another shoved Aesa’s buckler, and her foot skidded in the mud, sending her down. Otama’s spear jabbed over her head, and another warrior stepped into the gap she’d left in the wall. She lurched to her feet.

  Otama planted her spear and held out her arms. “Aesa, here!”

  Aesa hesitated before she saw what Otama was offering, a way to shoot over the press. She drew her bow. Otama knelt, grabbed her around the thighs, and lifted her. She took aim at the guard witch, but Otama staggered. Hilfey braced them both as Aesa’s arrow went wide.

  The guard witch lifted her staff. Aesa fired again, and the arrow punched into the guard witch’s chest. She fired another and another, both hitting dead center until the staff tumbled to the ground. Aesa reached back for another arrow but found none. “Let me down.”

  Near her, a man began to chant, and Aesa felt the heat from his wyld. As his chanting reached a crescendo, Gilka called, “Drop!”

  The shield wall fell to one knee, and a gust of air rushed over them. Aesa’s ears popped in the wake of it. The remaining guards blew backward, tumbling end over end. The black lizard horse rolled among them. Gilka’s warriors were back on their feet in a blink, running after the fallen guards, making short work of them. Soon, there was no one left to fight.

  Healers moved among the warriors, treating where they could. Others lay in bloody piles, unmoving or soon to stop. Either Fernagher’s guards had gotten better at fighting, or these had simply been better prepared. Aesa collected as many arrows as she could and then wandered to Runa, curious about the guard witch.

  Runa knelt over the body, taking care not to touch the staff. “It could be some new kind of magic, or maybe it’s all in this staff. Lend me your axe.” She laid a cloak behind the spear and then used the axe to shift the length of wood onto the cloth. Aesa helped nudge it with the end of her bow, and Runa swaddled it tightly, tying it with cord.

  “Move on to the village,” Gilka called.

  They set off together, Aesa staying in the front with the other archers, the better to get a clear shot. The sheep people had gathered in the street as if expecting them. Gilka waved Aesa, Hilfey, and Velka down a side street.

  When they emptied the village of guards, everyone broke down the doors of the buildings and hauled what they found into the streets: jewelry, but also plates and cups, weapons, food, and any metal.

  Most ignored the sheep people or laughed at them. One group shoved them down as Otama had, laughing to see them struggle to keep their smiles.

  Aesa’s shoulders tightened, but one glance across the street revealed Gilka watching her. She took a few deep breaths, keeping her face impassive. After a moment, she took another path, pretending to continue the search.

  Out of Gilka’s sight, she plonked down at the base of a statue that looked like one of the guards, but with its odd features even more pronounced. Several of the sheep people approached her, but she waved them off. They only came back in seconds, speaking their odd words and trying to touch her.

  “Go away!”

  They stumbled back, still smiling confusedly.

  “I could kill you. Any of us could. What is wrong with you that you won’t look after your own lives?”

  They just stared, concerned, but only with the fact that she was angry. Even then, she got the sense that they wanted to fix her. Those that had been trying to touch her used caresses and pats that seemed meant to be soothing.

  With a sigh, she sat again.

  “Onslau,” one of them said, and though she’d barely heard it before, she knew that voice.

  Honey-eyes came forth from the pack, still radiant. She approached Aesa quietly, soothing as the rest of them. Her soft hands cupped Aesa’s face, and she drew her thumbs across the bridge of Aesa’s nose as if trying to smooth away the frown.

  “Are you not allowed to be angry?” Aesa asked. “Maybe the guards won’t let you be anything but…quiet?”

  “Onslau,” she said again. “On diev shaptis?”

  Aesa shook her head. “I can’t understand you.” She heard her people moving in this direction and pictured Honey-eyes being made into a joke. “Come on.” She wa
ved them forward, and Honey-eyes and those around her followed without objection. Aesa nearly laughed. She shouldn’t have expected any differently.

  Half a street away, they came to the river. Now what? Aesa led the small pack of sheep to where the forest came close to the river’s side. She gestured for them to sit, and they obeyed instantly, seemed happy to have some direction.

  Aesa grasped Honey-eyes’s hands. “Stay here,” she said slowly. “Don’t move.” She gestured at the ground, pointed at all of them, and did it again. “Stay here.” When they stayed seated, she moved back toward the village with no idea what to do next.

  *

  Ell watched the warrior walk back to her fellows. She’d asked if they were shaptis, but the warrior didn’t seem to know, and now Ell and a handful of fini were sitting in the woods with no idea what to do next.

  “All the shaptis lay down and didn’t get up,” one of the others said.

  Lida covered her mouth. “It was the same where we came from before.”

  “Dead,” Ell whispered. As the blackness tried to creep into her vision, she breathed slow and deep and thought of the warrior’s bright eyes, the line of concern between them. If she frowned so hard, it might become permanent, and then she’d have to put on the gray.

  But she was more shapti than fini. Maybe her kind never put on the gray. Maybe that wasn’t the way for them. The dark spots grew in her vision again, and ringing filled her ears. She thought of bluebells and butterflies.

  “The calming will be soon,” Lida said, “and everything will be well.”

  Ell sighed in bliss along with the others. They needed the calming. It had already been too long since they’d had it. Then everything would make perfect sense again.

  “Perhaps we should go there now,” someone said. “Other shaptis might be there and can tell us what to do.”

  They all smiled brightly. “But the shaptis take us there,” Lida said.

  “But all the shaptis are lying down and not getting up.” Ell shut her mouth quickly so she wouldn’t say the word dead.