The Sacrifice

by Nhys Glover

  As the first crack was heard and the excruciating pain consumed me, I heard a wild war cry. While I waited for the next lash to fall, chaos erupted. I saw movement and smelled the dust as it rose into the air.

  The priest who had condemned me cried out in agony, whatever he had been using to project his voice still doing so as he suffered. What had happened to him? I could not see. My father and all the dignitaries were behind me.

  The leather that bound my arms and held them over my head was severed and I felt instant relief. My back still burned in agony, but at least my shoulders did not share that pain. And I could breathe again. In the next instant, my legs were freed and I fell back into strong arms.

  I must have grimaced as my back met the hard arm that supported me, but I did not notice. All I saw was the beloved face of the man who held me.

  Darkin! Darkin was here! He had come for me.

  "Hold on, Airsha, we're getting you out of here!" he said, his expression wild.

  I lay my head on his shoulder and relaxed into him. I did not care what happened next. I had one part of my heart back. It was enough.

  I heard the clash of metal on metal, the cries of pain, the sounds of struggle. I smelled the blood and the gore and the dust. I felt the jarring footfalls of Darkin as he ran with me in his arms.

  "Clear the way!" Darkin called to someone.

  "Aye!" came the reply. Was that Rama's deep voice? Surely not. Of all the brothers, he was least likely to come to my rescue.

  But if he was here, and Darkin was here, did that mean Calun and Jaron were too?

  Foolish, foolish men! Did they really think they could get me out of the palace, out of Godslund itself? This was no cliffling settlement of a few hundred people. This was the centre of the civilized world, where an army kept their precious Godling and his women safe.

  I wanted to cry in grief. They had turned my sacrifice into a waste. Now we would all die.

  We were in shadow now, and I felt relief to be out of the scorching rays of the sun. Thundering footsteps, the squawk of an airling.

  An airling? Here?

  Handed up to other strong arms. The feel of a familiar beastling beneath me. The feel of a familiar body cradling me. Peace and love cradling me. Calun! I was mounted on an airling with Calun!

  And in the next moment we were airborne and the world of chaos fell away. I wanted my worries to fade away too, but I knew that somewhere back there the other three of my beloved men probably still fought. Or had they taken to their airlings too? How had they created so much chaos? They were only four men against an army prepared to witness my punishment and death.

  I had no answers. In that moment I did not know if I would ever have answers. All I had was the airling beneath me, the air revitalising me with every passing second, and Calun, my beloved Calun holding me close.

  How long we flew I do not know. But eventually we landed in a field beside a walled township. Or was it a stone fortress? I did not know. I had never seen the like. But then, I had seen very little of the outside world. All that I had seen beyond the palace walls had been in the last mooncycle.

  I heard the sound of running men and I was once again handed off to strong arms. These ones I did not know. Moments later, Calun reclaimed me possessively and carried me inside.

  Clattering sandals on stone, a flight of stairs, a large room and soft female voices.

  "Oh, gods, what have they done to her?" a woman said, her horror apparent.

  'We didn't get to her in time. The punishment had started,' Calun said in my head. But no sound came from him.

  He lowered me onto a soft divan. I was worried my foul state would ruin it. Cool, soft hands stroked the hair back from my burning face.

  "You can leave her with us. We will take care of her," the woman said again.

  I could feel Calun's reluctance, his need to be with me. But in the end he left. I wanted to cry at the loss of him. But I did not have the energy. I was better than I had been before the airling took me to the wind, but I must have been far worse off than I had been after the wagon ride. My back alone burned like the fires of Dahma.

  Gentle hands stripped away the stained and torn fragments of my gown. I was lowered into a warm, soothing bath. My back stung so badly I gasped. But the soothing hands brushed back my hair and muttered calming words to me. Everything was all right. I was safe. I would heal. Let the water do what it could for me.

  I could no more struggle against those dictates than I could have struggled against my guards. But all I really wanted was my Airluds. I needed them with me, safe and sound.

  A cup was held to my lips. I realised how dry my mouth had been, how thirsty I was. I drank down the odd tasting liquid, just glad to have something wet to swallow. In no more than a few heartbeats, the world faded away into nothing.

  And I was glad for it.

  Chapter Seventeen

  When I awoke it was to find myself in a beautiful, airy chamber. I lay upon a soft bed and felt no pain. I tried to sit up but could not. My struggle did bring a pretty face into view, though.

  The young, dark-haired woman smiled in delight. "Ah, you are awake. Good. There are some very anxious men awaiting your recovery."

  "Men? " I croaked. "Calun and the others? They are safe?"

  The woman nodded and patted my hands. "Battle injured, all of them, but still standing. I will get them. Do not let them disturb you overmuch. I will make them leave if they do so."

  I waited impatiently for the sound of their footsteps. They came moments later.

  "Gods, it is so good to see you like this. I thought you were going to die." This was Rama. He slid down beside the bed, leaned across and placed his head on my chest. I was so shocked by the gesture and the pain in his voice I could do nothing but tentatively pat at his blonde head with a weak hand.

  I could not quite dismiss the image of him in my cell telling me I was not the type of woman he wanted. It had seemed so real, especially as he had said something like that at the beginning.

  This distraught man was like no other I had seen. I was not sure if I was actually experiencing, or just dreaming, it. Or mayhap I was dead. There was a dreamlike quality to the room, my pain-free body and these men who surrounded me.

  A big hand cupped the side of my face. "You have never looked so beautiful!" Jaron, that was Jaron. There was no lightness or teasing to his voice. He sounded broken. His too-handsome face was covered in cuts and bruises.

  I felt Calun nearby, his anxious fears washing over me. Darkin had come to my other side and was stroking my cheek. He swallowed several times, tried to speak, but eventually gave up.

  "What happened?" I asked Calun without words. I could not find my tongue to voice them aloud.

  I saw my men flying to a place I did not know. I saw them confronting men, and being led into the presence of women. Not harem women, not whores, not servants, but women like the ones who had cared for me. Proud women, competent women. Next came scenes I could not interpret. Jaron dressed as a trooper with Darkin and Rama at his side. Other men, and women too, dressed as Godslund troopers. There were women fighters? Surely I had misunderstood what he sent me.

  Panic and fear. Would they reach me in time? The priests had ordered the punishment too soon. They were not ready.

  Calun staying with the airlings to keep them calm and hidden from prying eyes. Him not wanting to be left behind. Needing to be with me. Saving me. Then having me in his arms at last, but horrified beyond sanity by my appearance. The long wait until they could see me, assure themselves I was well. That I would survive.

  It was patchy at best, but I thought I had an idea of what had happened. It had been more than my four Airluds who had come for me. Others had joined them. My men had somehow convinced others to help rescue me. Who these other people were and why they would agree to risk their lives for me, I had no idea. But they had, and they had been in sufficient numbers to make the rescue a success.

  I felt overwhelmed. I wanted to h
old all the big men against me, to reassure myself they were safe. But I could barely hold my arm up enough to stroke Rama's head.

  "They tortured you," Rama moaned into my chest. "Those bastards took too long to convince. They took too gods damned long to get their rebel arses ready to attack. We couldn't get there in time."

  Rebels? Had some kind of rebels helped my men rescue me? I felt like I was drowning in too much sensation.

  The world faded away.

  The last thing I heard was Darkin's anxious voice. "She's all right, isn't she? Gods, what's wrong with her?"

  The next time I awoke it was to sunshine on my face. Early morning sunshine, because it did not have the harsh edge it would get later in the day. I moaned a little as I stretched. My muscles ached, but it was good pain. The kind of pain I felt the day after a hard training session. For a moment I wondered if that was exactly what had happened.

  But my surroundings were strange and unfamiliar. I was not in the harem, I knew that much. It smelled different. The air was freer; lighter, somehow.

  I heard a soft female voice saying something. In the next moment I saw the troubled face of Jaron looking down at me. He took my hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing it repeatedly.

  "You're back with us. How do you feel?"

  I smiled, though it hurt a little to do so. "I am... better, I think. Are you?"

  He smiled and nodded and kissed my hand again. "Am I what? Better? Aye, now I know you're recovering. You almost died, Sweetling. Had we been any later you would've died. That whip laid your back open like a knife. You lost a lot of blood. Your lungs were constricted by the way they'd strung you up and congested from being confined to that vile cell. It was amazing you could breathe at all. We should've got there earlier. But the priests brought the whole horror forward. Maybe because they heard rumours of the unrest. I think they wanted you dead before we infiltrated. Before we attacked."

  He knelt at the side of the bed and laid his head on my shoulder. I stroked his brown curls, much as I had done to Rama the last time I awoke. How long ago was that? I had no idea. Had it happened at all? Rama had been frighteningly not himself. Mayhap it had all been a dream. A confusing dream filled with more information than I could absorb.

  "How long between me leaving with the troopers and now?" I asked slowly, testing each word before I risked uttering it.

  "Half a mooncycle. Just over half a moon'. We rescued you and brought you here four days ago. Four days you've been in and out of consciousness."

  "Where are the others?" I asked.

  "We've been taking turns watching over you. I'll send for them in a minute. I just want some time with you for myself. I'm being selfish, I know. But gods, Airsha, we almost lost you. I can't get over that fact. I saw what you looked like when they strung you up like a piece of meat being made ready for dressing. I saw them rip your filthy gown from your back and lay you open with that whip. I couldn't get to you in time to stop them. I couldn't get there!" He was sobbing now, deep heart-wrenching sobs that cut at me more deeply than the whip had done.

  "It is all right. You came for me. You saved me. That is what matters," I told him, running my fingers through his tousled hair. Tears pricked at my eyes and I blinked them away.

  After a long time Jaron pulled himself together, kissed my hand, and left. I was wrung out from his grief and regret, not sure how much more I could take.

  A young woman I recognised came to my side and held a cup for me to drink from. I had done this many times over the last days, I realised. I knew the taste of the strange brew well by now.

  "Your harem grieves for you. Worries for you," she said when I had finished the whole cup.

  "My harem? No... the women there think I am a monster. Only my mother grieves me."

  The woman smiled as if I made a joke. "That was not your harem. Those four airling riders are your harem. All of us have them."

  I was confused. Shaking my head I said, "Us have them? Who is us and who is them?"

  She gave a little laugh. "I am sorry. Of course you do not know. There is much that you have to learn, Air Mistress. The us are the other magical women of the kinglunds. Although most of us do not live in the kinglunds, but outside their borders. With the rebels. The them are our harems, men like your four, who give their loyalty and love to magical women, what we call Elemental Mistresses. You are an Air Mistress. I am an Earth Mistress. My gift helps to heal. Our harems support us in our work."

  At that moment the door burst open and four large men piled in, all racing for my bed. The woman laughed and quickly stepped aside. "We have had the hardest time keeping them away long enough for you to heal."

  I nodded and looked at the four beloved faces around me. Rama had slid across the floor on his knees to take his place on my right side. Calun had slid to my left side and reached for my hand, claiming it possessively. Darkin stood behind him, eyes filled with anguish. I reached out to him with my one free hand and he took it, kissing it as Jaron had done earlier.

  Jaron stood back, letting his brothers have their turn with me. I smiled across at him.

  "Now you're well enough, we're sleeping here," Rama announced aggressively. "These women have kept us away too long. Enough is enough."

  I giggled. "That was what I was told. You have been causing problems, I gather. Nothing unusual there."

  Rama grumbled and rested his head on my shoulder. He let out a deep sigh, as if he was finally home.

  "What happened? I have only been able to get bits and pieces from Calun, Jaron and the healer. How did you get so many people to help rescue me?" I asked, looking from one to the other of them.

  Darkin was the one to answer, of course. "As soon as you rode away we made our plans. There was no way we were going to let you sacrifice yourself like that. But we had to have a plan.

  "There's been unrest in the Badlunds for a long time. And in the kinglunds, too. We were approached when we came home from Godslund. Somehow, we'd made a name for ourselves as rebels. For going against orders, I suppose, though it was never our intention to be rebels." Darkin gave a little roll of his dark blue eyes.

  "Idiots wanted us to join their rebellion when all we wanted was to mind our own business and care for our airlings," Rama grumbled, stroking at the covering over my breasts. I felt a frisson of pleasure at the contact.

  "We'd heard rumours that there were other women like you. Women with a little magic. Not like you. Not as powerful as you. They weren't the daughters of the Godling, but they did have some magic. The rebellion had formed around them. When the Godling stopped producing magical sons the rebellion started to grow in earnest. As you probably know, when a Godling loses the support of the gods it's the right of the people to rise up and replace him. That's what these rebels planned to do."

  I tried to digest Darkin's story. Some of it I knew, like the fact the people could rise up against their Godling if he lost the god's favour. The other... the existence of magical women who were not daughters of the Godling? That was shockingly new information. These were the so-called Elemental Mistresses, I supposed.

  "I've been talking to people," Jaron said. Calun looked at him sceptically. "All right, I've been chatting up some of the serving women. But only to get information."

  I felt jealousy eating at my heart, imagining him flirting with buxom maidens who were only too willing to let him tumble them.

  "Nay, Airsha. I did no more than talk. I've no wish to bed anyone but you," Jaron said hastily.

  "Go on," Darkin said impatiently. "Say what you were so anxious to add to the story."

  "I found out that all the women are related by blood to the Godling. Mostly daughters of magical sons. Which makes them the Godling's granddaughters. And they have quite powerful magic. As much as most magical sons.

  "Some of the magical sons who returned to their mothers' kinglunds produced these magical daughters. Rumour of castration of magical daughters kept these second generation magical women hidden so Godslund didn't f
ind out about them. Most of the other kinglunds aren't impressed by the idea of female castration or human sacrifice."

  This was news. I knew from what my men had originally told me: that castrating magical daughters was a secret kept from those outside of Godslund. But rumours got out, as they always did. Like the wagoners who heard about, and hated the idea of, sacrificing a princess to the gods.

  "So, as I said, we were approached to join the rebels, but we refused." Darkin took up the story again, with one more impatient glance at Jaron to see if he was finished interrupting.

  "But we knew where to find them. And when you were taken we went directly to them. Our thought was that they'd help rescue a magical daughter if they knew about her. And we were right. What we didn't count on was all the politics and debate that had to take place before we went to rescue you, though. They weren't ready to mount an attack on the Godling himself, or his palace. But when word got out that the Godling was going to publically punish and put to death his abomination of a daughter, they got off their backsides and pulled a plan together.

  "We thought we had more time, but then we found out it was moved forward. Either because the bastards didn't know how much longer you'd survive in that hole or because they'd heard rumours of our planned rescue attempt, no one knows. But we barely had time to get ourselves in as troopers. We needed the disruption the magical daughters could cause so the rebels who were masquerading as Godslunder troops, like us, could have maximum impact. And they did well. But not soon enough. The bastards laid you open before we could act. We had to stand there like gods damned statues and watch them degrade and whip you. We thought you were going to die," Darkin choked on the final words.

  "It was more luck than good management in the end. Rama went crazy when the lash fell. He threw his dagger at the loud-mouth priest and hit his chest. After that it was jump in, whether you were ready or not. And it worked."

  Rama took over, looking like he was ready to bash my father's brains out with a jug. And enjoy it. "We got you out with minimal losses. Although we've barely dented the Godling's forces. We were just lucky that most were still out combing the kinglunds for you when we attacked. The rebellion has a long way to go before they bring that bloodthirsty bastard down."