by C. L. Scheel
"What have they done to you?" she whispered, horrified.
He did not answer, but continued to look at her with unseeing eyes.
Kitarisa returned to the kitchen many times to fill her basket. She lost track of how many cages she entered, but as with the first, every occupant offered no resistance, nor did they try to harm her.
"How many times do we do this?" she whispered to Ramelet.
"Twice a day. Tomorrow they get meat, only it will be our turn to feed the horses. I hate that; I'm always getting stepped on and once I nearly got bitten."
"How many horses are there?" she murmured, turning her face quickly so a sharp-eyed older Sister would not hear her.
"Oh, hundreds. They belong to the prisoners." Ramelet gestured to the men in the cages.
"Why do we keep their horses?"
"For them to ride, of course. To fight."
"Ramelet, who are they supposed to fight?"
"Sshh!" she whispered, glancing about fearfully. "Whoever the Reverend Holy Sister wishes, silly."
Kitarisa was numb with shock by the time she reached the final chamber--this one like the kitchen, soared into a cavern with niches or cells carved into the mountain wall in higher and higher rows. Ledges and railings were carved along each row to facilitate access to each of the cells. These were smaller than the others, containing only two or sometimes three prisoners and like the larger cages, were clean and dry, free of any filth.
Like well-kept pets in some monstrous kennel, Kitarisa thought.
In the last chamber, it was not so quiet or orderly. The cages were smaller, occupied by only one man and these men did not sit quietly and wait for food, but were lying down and moaning. In the grim light, she saw a few of the older, white-haired Sisters, kneeling and leaning over them, muttering strange words. Some of the men coughed horribly and some merely stared upward at the ceiling, clenching their jaws. A few did not move at all.
From a dark corner, she heard a hoarse whisper, almost inaudible.
"My Lady Kitarisa?"
She could not contain her tears as she rushed to the small niche in the wall, holding only one man.
"The Goddess have mercy! Kuurus!" she sobbed. She knelt by the bars and reached through them to take his hand.
Scars and welts crisscrossed his lean body and even in the dim light she could see that one of his legs did not lie straight, but bent in an unnatural angle.
"How do you like Malgora's legions?" he asked weakly with just a trace of a smile on his cracked lips.
"Legions?" She tried to wipe her tears away with the edge of her veil.
"These are her faithful, my lady, ready to lay down their lives for Medruth."
"Kuurus, what have they done to you?" She reached into the cage to try and pluck the irritating straw from some of the open cuts on his chest.
"My lady, Malgora takes your will to live--everything. If you fight her, she gets stronger until you cannot fight her at all. For good measure, she breaks something, sometimes many things. When you finally give in, you cannot resist what she wants of you. Then," he gestured weakly to an older Sister at the other side of the room, kneeling over one of the prisoners, "they make you whole again. By then it is too late. You do what they say, or it begins all over again. Some do not survive it."
He arched painfully against his wounds and then sank back into the straw.
"Kuurus, I must get you out of here."
"No. Who is with you?"
"Just Mar'Kess, but he is back at the entrance of the temple."
Weakly, he clutched at her hand. "Listen to me, my lady. Find Assur. She hasn't broken him yet, at least I don't think so. There is a back way, where the horses are kept. Get out through there and find Prince Achad. Tell him to bring the legions here." Kuurus looked at her through the cage bars, his eyes dulled with pain. "This is where the battle must be, before she reaches Kazan and joins forces with him."
"Where is he?" she asked, frightened.
"Through the doors with the creatures over them. I...I do not know what they are. Ancient beasts."
"Sister!" a voice barked at her from the far side of the chamber, making her jump. "Give him his food and return to the kitchens at once!"
Kuurus gave her a weak smile. "Go," he whispered. "It will take more than a mere witch to break this old Siarsi."
Kitarisa bit her lip, futilely trying to hold back more tears. She shoved the food through the cage and then squeezed his hand in a final goodbye.
She hurried out of the chamber, keeping her head down so no one would see her tears. The feeding had been done and the Sisters were now heading back toward the main part of the temple for their own meal. She could not find Ramelet anywhere in the throng of tired women.
Kitarisa deliberately hung back until she was the last of the Sisters to head for the kitchen. When she thought no one would notice, she slipped behind one of the shadowed pillars and waited. She saw no one behind her and the rest had disappeared through the main entrance to the kitchen chamber.
She glanced around at the cages. Most of them had finished eating and were sitting quietly on the straw. Kitarisa shook her head in disbelief. All were still clothed in their own particular battle attire; some glittered in chain mail or armor. One man was even going through the motions of cleaning his helmet with a scrap of cloth he had found. They all looked as if they were waiting for orders--calm and expectant.
They were waiting for orders from their commanding officer.
Waiting.
Kitarisa shoved her knuckles to her mouth in horror.
A commander to lead an army...for Malgora.
Assur.
Chapter 19
IT SEEMED TO take forever for Kitarisa to find the door with the ancient creatures above them. The labyrinth of corridors and chambers all looked the same as she followed the winding, dark passages. Finally, she found the entrance--two huge doors cast in bronze, with more of the strange flying creatures carved in relief upon them.
Twice, she had nearly been spotted by Wrathmen patrolling this part of the temple and now that she faced the chamber where Assur might be kept, she was terrified there may be more inside.
She peered cautiously into the chamber. Like the other chambers in the Catacombs, this one was also large, circular in shape with a high-domed ceiling. In the center, a crackling fire burned from a sunken circular pit and in front of it was a beautifully carved chair, all in gold.
Behind the fire pit she saw Assur.
Kitarisa bit back a cry of despair as she flew across the floor to him.
It was impossible to say how long he had been in the position he was being held, but his arms trembled from fatigue and his head was bent down, completely unaware she was near him. Assur had been stripped to the waist and forced on his knees, bent over, with his arms stretched out tightly to the side. Both wrists were manacled in iron. Ropes had been fastened to the manacles and tied down to heavy metal rings bolted into the floor. He could neither move nor stand up.
Kitarisa knelt and touched his face. Assur flinched as if she had struck him.
"Assur, it is Kitarisa," she murmured.
Slowly he lifted his head. Kitarisa sucked in her breath. Blood streamed from both nostrils and his mouth--one eye was swollen shut and when he opened his mouth to speak he could only cough a gurgling tortured sound.
"Kita?" he whispered hoarsely. "How? How did you...?"
"Hush. You must not talk. I am going to get you out."
He shook his head. "Save yourself. Find Achad."
She pulled a small knife from the waistband of her skirt and began sawing at the nearest rope.
"The sword, Kita," he whispered, nodding to the nearby pile of armor, fur and swords. Kitarisa ran to get it and lifted the heavy sword awkwardly over her head. In two clumsy blows she managed to sever the ropes and Assur collapsed on his side, groaning in pain.
Kneeling over him, she clutched at the beautiful pearl he had given her and gabbled the first thing th
at came to her: "Save him, help him, blessed Goddess!"
Kitarisa closed her eyes, placing her hands on his chest and called out again. She could easily feel the broken ribs under her hands and wept in helpless frustration.
"Do not move him, child," a soft voice whispered from the back of the great chamber.
Kitarisa looked around frantically trying to locate the source of that voice.
"If you move him, it will cause more damage."
She snatched one of Assur's swords and scrambled to her feet. "Who is there? Who are you?"
"A friend." As quietly as the voice had come to her, the slight form of a woman slipped from behind one of the tapestries and glided across the room. Her once white gown was spotted and stained with blood and the soil of hard work. Kitarisa glanced down at the ragged, dirty hem. Barely distinguishable from the dirt, she could just make out the wide band of red that encircled the entire skirt.
The woman stopped in front of her and placed a calming hand on her shoulder.
"If we hurry, we can save him," she said gently.
Kitarisa stared into the serene-faced woman, still not comprehending. Her eyes were normal, soft brown and full of compassion. Even her hair had not turned to the icy white like the others, but a color that had once been bright auburn, now softened to a warm, peachy shade.
"You are not a Sister?" she stammered.
"No, Kitarisa, not as you know them. I am Jizrella, a Daughter of Verlian--one of the last, child."
"But I thought they were all gone. My old nurse said the last Daughters died out long ago."
"Almost," she said with a twinkle and a soft laugh. "There are only five of us left. We stay hidden here and do what we can. Malgora is very powerful and we risk much at being discovered. If she knew, she would certainly destroy us. We stay well hidden and do our work at night when everyone is at rest, or when she is not in the Catacombs."
"Then you can make Assur well?" she asked tremulously.
"I will try, child. Malgora has caused much damage, but he is strong and she has not broken him completely. Besides, we must save him Kitarisa. If he breaks, then all will be lost."
Kitarisa started. She clutched at the woman's arm. "Do not let him die, please."
"The Goddess needs him, Kitarisa, to free the warriors below. Malgora has taken everything from them: their will to fight, their will to live, even to survive. They await Assur's call and it must be for their freedom."
Jizrella turned to Assur and knelt down next to him. She ran her hands lightly over his face, down his neck and across his chest, seeking the damage Malgora had done to him.
Kitarisa glanced anxiously first from Assur and then to the Daughter. She appeared unperturbed.
"We are in time, Kitarisa. Come, I will need your help."
"Me? I am not a healer, Holy Daughter. I only know about herbs and...and simple things. I cannot help you."
The Daughter Jizrella smiled. "Did not you help him here?" She touched the spot where the horse had kicked him. "And you did save the brave Siarsi?"
"Yes, but that was just...I just gave him the borgonwort."
"Kitarisa, the touch is with you. It is faint, but it will help me. Now, come. Place your hands upon him so."
Gingerly, Kitarisa followed the Daughter's lead and placed her hands next to hers. She felt Assur's chest rise and fall in short, shallow heaves.
"Now, be still. We will call the affliction from him."
Kitarisa almost jerked her hands away, until she realized the true meaning of her words: to call the affliction from him, not for him--the compassionate reverse of Malgora's hideous workings.
At first she felt nothing and then a soft tingling in her arms and then her hands. The tingling intensified until it became a mild burning sensation in her palms.
Astonished, Kitarisa suddenly felt bones snap back together and the knitting process accelerate with lightening speed; fragile tissues adjusted and repaired. Blood retreated back into arteries that abruptly sealed. Assur's breathing eased to a steady, deep rhythm. The swelling around the eye began to diminish, leaving only healthy skin defined by the black pattern.
Jizrella's own breathing became more rapid; her eyes closed. Kitarisa watched the woman's hands tremble with her efforts to save Assur.
His eyes fluttered open.
"What did you do?" he asked. "It is as if nothing..." He sat up--a look, first of amazement on his face that quickly turned to distrust when he saw the Daughter. "By what witchcraft has she poisoned you Kitarisa?" He began to get to his feet, the sword now in his hand.
"No Assur!" she cried. "It was she who saved you. She is not like the others. She is a Daughter of Verlian--a true Daughter, like in the before times."
Unconvinced, Assur took a threatening step toward the Daughter. "We have all paid a harsh price for their meddling, as in the before times. The witches have forfeited their right to live." Assur raised the sword over his head, ready to strike down the Daughter.
"Assur, no!" Kitarisa lunged at his arm, trying to stop his blow. "She is a Healer! She saved you!"
Assur stopped. The struggle with his deep-rooted hatred for the Sisters showed clearly on his face.
"If you do not allow me to help you, my Lord Assur," the Daughter said firmly, "then Malgora will win. She will use you to lead the men kept below against Riehl and your own people. You have felt only a fragment of her power. You cannot fight her for long. Eventually, you will yield."
"I will die first," he snarled, raising the sword again.
"But to what end?" the Daughter pleaded. "If not you, then who will be next? She will find another and another until she has the one man who will lead her forces against the west and take back what she feels has been taken from her and the Sisters. The west will fall, my lord, and it will be even easier if you are dead."
He paused, weighing her words. "I have a difficult time trusting a witch."
"She is not a witch, she one of the last true Daughters of Verlian. There are only five of them left. Please, my lord. Do not kill her," Kitarisa begged.
"If this is so, then how is it you have been able to survive?"
"The Catacombs are immense--even Malgora does not know all the passageways and chambers--and in the darkness, we have been well hidden."
Assur glanced at Kitarisa, still uncertain. "Where is Kuurus?" he asked cautiously.
Taking his uncertainty for acceptance, Jizrella stooped down and picked up his scabbards and handed them to him.
"We have removed him from the holding cell and taken him deeper in the caverns where we can restore him. We must hurry. Malgora will begin her final prayers to Medruth before calling upon the warriors below." She pointed a warning finger at him. "You were to lead the ritual."
"Where is Malgora now?" Kitarisa asked as she began to help Assur dress. She was relieved Assur had finally accepted Jizrella, however reluctantly, and was preparing to follow her direction.
"She is with her Wrathmen giving her last instructions. Come, now."
Assur completed his dressing and then pulled the second sword from its scabbard. He nodded to the Daughter to lead on. Kitarisa knew he would take no chances. If the Daughter failed them, he would not hesitate to cut her down in an instant.
Behind the heavy tapestry at the back of the room was a narrow passageway cut into the rock, barely wide enough for a slim woman, much less a tall man in armor. Assur moved along behind Jizrella in a sideways fashion, arms overhead to avoid scraping the swords against the rock walls.
An occasional tiny flame, a mere candle held bracketed into the walls lighted the dark pathway. Jizrella moved swiftly, unhampered by the dark or the many twists and turns in the tunnel. They passed many other openings to other tunnels that led deeper into the labyrinth of the Catacombs.
Abruptly, the tunnel took a sharp turn to the left and then pitched downward, ending at an iron door. Jizrella released the heavy latch and pushed the door inward.
Four women waited for them, all atti
red like Jizrella in white gowns that had seen better days and all with the wide band of red at the hem.
The room was sparsely furnished with a table that served both as a desk and a place to eat. A few chests lined the walls and a tall bookcase, filled with ancient volumes.
An older woman, her face lined with worry and the strain of living so long in secret, stepped forward.
"Jizrella, we are relieved." She embraced the younger Daughter, touching her lips to her cheek. She turned to Assur and Kitarisa. "And you have found him in time. Praise to Verlian."
She smiled at Kitarisa and touched the edge of the ill-fitting veil."It seems the mistress of robes could not find an appropriate gown and veil for you, child." Then, recalling her manners, the Daughter dropped a deep curtsey to Assur as well as to Kitarisa. The other four followed her, all murmuring their respects.
"We are honored by your presence, Your Highness and you, Lady Kitarisa."
Somewhat mollified, Assur lowered both his swords. He nodded curtly to the Daughters.
"What place is this?" he demanded.
"It is a sanctuary chamber, one of dozens that honeycomb these caverns. Their whereabouts are carefully guarded. Only we five and a handful of the other Sisters know about them. We have had to be extremely cautious in trusting new allies. One slip, and the Wrathmen would hunt us out like snakes in a mouse hole."
"How long have your been here?" Kitarisa asked, removing the veil.
"As Daughters, we have managed to continue on here since Lord Suldan banished us. We are the last to hold to our sacred teachings and remain obedient to the Goddess. For ourselves, I am Thespa; I have been here all my life. Daughter Britta," she nodded toward the woman standing against the far wall, "forty-five turns. Daughter Celinne came with me as a novitiate." Thespa smiled at the kindly-faced Daughter. "Daughter Kell, at least forty, and dear Jizrella, our baby, only twenty."
