The Valley of Ten Crescents Series (Box Set: Books 1-3)

by Tristan J. Tarwater

  The priestess laughed and sat on the floor, picking up the loaf of bread with her hands. She set it on her lap and began picking it apart, tossing crumbs of it onto the floor. “They make the food for the prisoners so salty…but no, he never said that.” The priestess looked up, her head bobbing gently, her dirty hands ripping through the crust. “But he spoke of you. Asked what I thought of you. He asked what I thought you were hiding.” The priestess tucked a piece of the bread into her mouth, chewing it as a thoughtful expression came onto her face. “They poisoned the food.”

  “What?” Tavera looked over her shoulder briefly, still unscrewing the next screw as she gave the priestess a look, her voice incredulous. “Well then, why are you eating it?”

  “They salt the bread and offer tea. The tea is poisoned. It turns your thoughts. It weakens your mind so they can rebuild it.” The priestess looked down at her lap, the folds of her robes full of crumbs. Her hands shook as she tried to brush them off, her eyes narrowing as she concentrated on the task. “It doesn’t work on everyone, not everyone who drinks it can escape and be led back…I told him to stay away from you. You are one my husband would try to help. He would purge you of your secrets.”

  Husband? Tavera’s pointed ear perked up. This time she turned to address the priestess. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to guess who the priestess was speaking of, pages of the journals flipping back and forth in her imagination as she tried to piece it together. They fell open to one page and Tavera’s eyes lit up, a dark realization entering her thoughts. “Cy…Cy is your husband?”

  The priestess nodded; her expression was a mixture of guilt and shame, her hands going up to her face to hide it. “Cyric…he is my husband.” She sat up straighter, trying to give the impression of pride as she fixed her mussed hair. “That’s why he came to get me. He wanted to be with me.”

  The thief took a deep breath. Tavera knew telling Sister Kella Cy was most likely dead was not the best idea at the moment. But there was no way the priestess believed what she had just said. Regardless of any vows they had taken years ago, Cy’s intentions with Kella were nothing close to romantic. Tavera glanced at the pitcher of water, picking it up with one hand. With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the water into the priestess’ face. The older woman squealed in discomfort and blinked her eyes. Before she recovered, Tavera grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her to grab her attention and keep Kella in the moment brought to her by the wet and cold.

  “Now listen to me, Sister. That ain’t true.” Tavera did her best to keep her voice sympathetic but strong, trying to lead the disturbed woman with her voice. “Cy kidnapped you. He was not kind to you. He took you from your home, where people depend on you, and brought you here, where they keep you in a cell. You hate it here. This place scares the shit out of you. Your friends died here. I know that and Tender knows that so we came here to come and get you…and take you home.” Tavera moved the priestess’ face with her hand as the woman tried to break her gaze, her gray eyes swimming with fear, but Tavera would not let her slip away again. “That is what you want, Kella? Right? Don’t you want to be rescued?”

  “I told him to stay away from you.” The priestess looked down to the ground as tears fell from her eyes, her face pale. She sobbed softly. Tavera led her back to the bed to sit before she went back to work on the lock, looking over her shoulder occasionally to let the priestess know she was listening. “I knew if he started talking to you, he’d get ideas in his head. His eyes would look toward the roads and his scope would grow wider. Whitend would be too small.” The priestess shook her head and pulled her hair back out of her face, hunched over so she looked like a shaking, gray blob. “You should not have come here to get me. You should have let me die.”

  “Well, you asked for Tender’s help and you got it.” Tavera snapped at the priestess, managing to get the last screw undone, prying the plate off with her fingers and setting it on the ground before she started in on the lock. “You called out to him for help. He came and now he’s locked up somewhere. Seeing as you’re the only one who’s been here before, I’m taking you with me to help me find him. When we’ve done that, I will gladly lock you back up so the cultists can bleed you and pray over you and prey on you, though I think it will irritate Tender since he came all this way to get you.” There was a metallic clink as the metal pick finally caught and disengaged the lock, the feeling of the bolt sinking back into the door itself putting a smile on the thief’s face. She tucked the tools behind her ear and stood up, feeling triumphant as she stood before the priestess. “Now, are you ready to come, or not?”

  The priestess stared up at her from the bed, her eyes wide in disbelief. Slowly, the realization of escape seemed to dawn on her, her expression painted with a smile as she stood, walking over to Tavera, her hair still wet and stuck to her face. She laid a dry, rough hand on the half-elf’s face.

  “Thank you,” she said, and for a moment Tavera thought perhaps the priestess thought she was someone else. But the woman’s eyes refocused and she took Tavera’s hands, earnestness in her words as she spoke. “I’m sorry I’m being like this, I really am. It’s just very…difficult for me to be here. Before we go out, I must tell you something.” The priestess’ eyes shimmered and her breath was quick as if something pained her suddenly, her grip tightening on Tavera’s hands. “I don’t want to stay here, I want you to take me with you. Please, I can’t stand…the memories. But there is another person trapped here, a girl, like I once was.” The priestess started to say more but the tears forming in her eyes kept her from speaking. Tavera sensed the urgency and what the priestess asked was more important than their original plan. Before she begged, Tavera nodded her head, pressing her bleeding lips together.

  “We will, but first we have to save Tender.” The priestess began to protest but Tavera interrupted, putting a hand up to stop her. “I won’t be able to get her by myself. We have people on the outside who are going to be with us soon, but I am going to need Tender’s help to get this other girl. Do you understand?” The priestess nodded, smiling as Tavera released her. Placing her hand on the door, she pulled it open. She did a good job of hiding her relief as they stepped out of the cell and into the corridor. Tavera had told herself she could do it but actually doing it…she let a small sigh rush past her lips as she peeked around, motioning for the priestess to follow her.

  Tender. The priestess took up the lead position, walking confidently down the corridors which were familiar to her. Tavera turned her thoughts toward releasing Tender, unsure as to what they would find and hoping they would be able to rescue him. Whatever the girl was in for, whatever the cultists thought they were going to do…they were in for a big surprise. What surprise? Tavera would figure that out when they got there.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Loosed

  “He’s in here,” Sister Kella whispered. Tavera nodded, looking around, straining her ears to listen for anyone who might be around and finding no indication anyone was close. Where she and the priestess had been trapped was underground, as most jails were. The halls seemed to slope upward and she felt as if they were midlevel, something over their heads. Probably the temple proper. One step at a time, she told herself, taking a deep breath.

  Tavera peered through the window, her eyes taking some time to adjust to the lighting within. On the back wall, surrounded by illuminating lamps, was a grotesque image of the Goddess. Tavera saw the sacrificial victim depicted across her lap, the use of red paint, the left hand of the Goddess raised. In the center of her black palm was something red, what looked like blood dripping down the Goddess’ pale arm. Tavera smelled strange incense, so similar to the kind used in temples, but different.

  But where was Tender? The sister had said he was in there. Tavera listened to be sure they were alone in the hall again before she looked to Kella. “Are you sure?” she asked. Her lock-picks were already out.

  “I’m sure,” Sister Kella said. “He’s in there.”

  T
avera thought to question Kella further but didn’t. She took another glance and gasped, seeing what she hadn’t before. Tender was on the floor. His hands and neck were in stocks, his back toward her as he lay awkwardly. Overturned chairs told her something had happened. Red blood ran in stripes on his bare arms. Was he breathing? Tavera rushed to unlock the door, fumbling at first but managing to get it open. She pulled it open enough for her and Kella to dart in before quickly locking it behind them.

  “Tender,” Tavera whispered as loudly as she dared. A hint of movement. He was breathing at least. She looked back at Sister Kella. The priestess’ eyes were wide and focused on the mural, her body tense. “Sister, you stay by the door and listen,” Tavera said, taking her by the shoulders and turning her away from the religious icon. “I’ll make sure Tender’s not hurt.”

  “Yes,” the priestess said, her voice quavering. Tavera watched her for a breath to make sure Sister Kella wouldn’t just turn around but the priestess faced the door. Tavera rushed carefully to Tender’s side, stepping over broken pottery and the overturned chair.

  “Braxton, what have they done to you,” Tavera murmured. She squeezed beside him, easing him up into a sitting position. Tender groaned as she moved him and Tavera cursed, hoping she wasn’t injuring him further. When he was sitting up, she looked to the door before grabbing one of the oil lamps and bringing it closer to him.

  His face was covered in blood. Panic rose in Tavera’s chest but she remembered Sister Kella’s legs. She reached up and found a pitcher of what was probably the tea the priestess had warned her about. Tavera thought for a moment before ripping her shirt sleeve, soaking it in the tea before she wiped Tender’s face. The blood came off readily. His eye was swollen but she carefully pried it open to make sure it was still there. Tender winced, groaning again but moving his head. She rinsed the rag and then dabbed again, seeing the crusted blood on the wounds made at the start of his scalp. His chest had been cut as well, blood smeared across his chest and belly. The incense was thick, making it hard to breath. “Tender,” Tavera coughed. “Tender, it’s me. I’m here to get you out.”

  “Mistress?” Tender muttered. He sounded as if his mouth was dry. “Have you heard my prayers?” His words were slurred. Tavera picked up the pitcher and stood, holding it over his head.

  “I’m going to pour something over you, Tender. Try not to drink it,” Tavera said. She waited for Tender to acknowledge what she had said. He just sat there, his mouth moving. She put a hand on the top of his head and poured the water over him, wiping his face with the rag, kneeling down to clean his chest and stomach. All cleaned up, his wounds weren’t too bad.

  “Can you move your legs?” she asked. Tender nodded, moving one foot and then the other. Tavera nodded, blowing out her cheeks, and she looked to the stocks. “Okay, I’ll see about the stocks and then we’ll be out of here, I promise.”

  “And then we’ll get Point,” Tender said. Tavera frowned. She pushed his dark hair out of his face, looking into his eyes.

  “Braxton, it’s me. I’m Point,” she said. For a breath Tender just stared at her, his split lip wrinkling as he frowned.

  “Holy Mother,” he said. “It is you. Point. I--” He stopped short, cutting himself off. “I’m…I’m sorry. I didn’t listen to you.”

  “It’s fine, Braxton.” Tavera looked to Sister Kella, the woman still staring at the door. “It worked out, in a way. I got the sister.” She managed a smile, seeing Tender’s face light up. “Now I just have to get you out of here.”

  “Can you do it?” Tender asked. “Can you deliver us?”

  Tavera pressed her lips together, bringing the oil lamp closer to look at the hinge. “I can do lots of things, Tender. Mostly, I just try my hardest.”

  “I didn’t believe you,” Tender admitted. “I didn’t think you could fend for yourself.”

  “To be fair, we are both in a jail cell,” Tavera chuckled.

  “I second-guessed you,” Tender said. His dark, wet hair started to curl on his forehead. His eyes shone bloodshot in the dim light.

  “You don’t know me, Tender,” Tavera murmured, turning her attention back to the lock. “Of course you did.” She squinted in the low light, running her fingers over the hinge.

  “Tits,” she cursed, inspecting the way the stock was laid on him. The hinge was screwed into the wood. On the other side, a lock kept the two pieces together. Long metal pins were screwed into the wood between the spaces for his hands and head, securing the stock further. The metal rings which the easier lock was placed through was dented. Something had pushed the metal hard enough that it had bent. It would be difficult to pry even the easier lock out. “Tender,” Tavera said. “Did you try to get this off yourself?”

  “Yeah,” Tender muttered. “Almost broke my own neck doing it.”

  “You’re lucky you didn’t,” Tavera sighed. The stocks hinged at the end and two pins kept the wooden posts together. “What’d you bang this against?” she asked.

  “The wall,” Tender said. “And the floor I imagine, when I fell.”

  “It’s dented.” Tavera huffed. “I don’t….” She shook her head, poking her finger in the hole where the pins went. “It’s going to take a bit of doing.”

  “Do it, please,” Tender said, grimacing. He gazed at her through half-lidded eyes, obviously straining where he lay. Tavera stood in front of him and took his hands, pulling him forward with a grunt, doing her best not to hurt him any more than she had to. The priestess prayed quietly in the doorway and Tavera forced a smile as she got working on the hinge.

  She heard a distinct “clink” as the lock was picked. It popped open but wouldn’t budge. Tavera wrapped her hand around it, trying to wiggle and ease the shackle without moving Tender too much. Metal scraped against metal as she pulled and jerked at the lock. With a final pull, she yanked the lock out of its ring. Tender winced as the stock shifted with the force, gritting his teeth. Tavera got over to the other side to start working on the other hinge.

  “How…how do you know how to do this?” Tender asked.

  “Do what, Tender?” she asked. She looked at his feet, bare and dirty. After she got him out she’d have to find his boots.

  “This,” he said. He moved his hands in the stocks, as if to gesture. “Undo locks. Talk to people like you did in the alley. And then like this, in this…this prison.” His shoulders slumped.

  “This…this is what I do, Tender,” Tavera said. If she kept talking, it might cheer him up and keep him with her. She saw the knot on his head where someone had hit him. The back of his head was shiny in one spot, red. Fresh blood. Tavera noticed Tender’s eyes fluttering toward the mural of the Goddess, terrible in its depiction. “Hey, don’t look at that,” she said. “You know it’s a lie. That’s the real lie here, Tender. You know the Goddess is good and not one to bring her children pain.”

  “Right,” Tender said. He sounded like he believed it. Tavera let one of the screws fall to the ground and then hopped up, blocking the view of the mural. Tender moved his head in something like a nod while she gripped the hinge with her fingertips. The hinge was pried off of the stock, leaving only the two long screws to deal with.

  The screws were set deep into the wood, too far for her fingers to reach and too far for her tools to be of any use. Tavera managed to keep the panic off her face as she realized this and she took Tender’s face gingerly in her hands, his skin clammy to the touch. “I’ve got a bit of an issue here but I’ll have you out as soon as I can, alright? Don’t worry.” She released his face when she was certain he could bear his own weight and picked the lock up off the ground, weighing it in her hands as she walked up to Kella.

  “Kella, where do they keep the drivers for the bolts, for the stocks?” Kella turned around, her eyes still darting in her head as if she was expecting something to jump out at them. The priestess shook her head.

  “Whoever is his overseer will have his keys,” she whispered. “Someone is assigned to the p
eople they keep here. They will have them.” The priestess’ head jerked up. Her eyes went wide as her body tensed with fear. “They’re coming!”

  Footsteps. As quickly as possible, she pulled the priestess aside and pressed herself flat against the wall, holding her breath as the steps drew closer. Kella did the same, her lips moving in silent prayer as the sound of one person walking stopped in front of the door. There was a jingling of keys and the door opened inward.

  Tavera didn’t wait to see who was within the robes. Lock in hand, she stepped forward. The figure started to turn. Bloodshot eyes went wide in amazement as Tavera drove the metal piece hard into his skull with all her might, unable to keep from grunting. He teetered there for a moment and she struck him again, the crunch of metal against bone sickening to hear. The man slumped to the ground, falling into Tender and knocked him off balance at first before he tipped forward. The wooden stock bounced and caught awkwardly on the floor, making Tender gag.

  “Tender!” Tavera rushed over and helped him back up, looking to Kella with purpose in her voice. “The keys, get them!” They had been lucky. Kella scrambled toward the downed cultist, feeling around the robes and finding the keys on his belt. Tavera turned her head away as his hood fell back, the mutilated face of the man personalizing what she had just done.

  It had been to help Tender, hadn’t it? She had told herself that she would help him no matter what. She had at least been angry with Cy when she drew her blade and attacked him. She had struck this man out of fear. Her stomach was beginning to hurt, the feeling of striking him down still tingled in her hand. Tavera took the keys from Kella, finding the long, thin tool meant to draw out the bolts and screws. After a few tries and a few turns, the pins came unscrewed, loosening the stocks. Tavera pulled them off, setting them against the wall while keeping an eye on Tender. He stood on his own feet, swaying.