Angelslayer: The Winnowing War

by K. Michael Wright

“Yes. I have a ship fitted and a crew of marines. They are deadly, very capable. And the ship is a runner, built to move swift. The pilot is able to navigate deep water. Most pilots must keep near the shore, but he is talented, which makes him expensive, but then—as you might guess—coin is not a problem. Still, he is not so talented as to attempt running unfamiliar deep water at night. So we will hide in pretense until tomorrow’s dawn.”

  “A ship? We are leaving tomorrow?” She was stunned, but he seemed to think little of it.

  “There is no choice; we must become runners. Tomorrow we will vanish into the Western Sea.”

  She sighed. Before, such news would have left her panicked, but the ring had already taught her enough to understand. She was to leave everything. There was no choice in it. Her whole world had changed completely, so quickly it seemed already only a memory. It struck her with sadness, but at the same time, the horse breeder, he was to have taken her away, as well. Marcian Antiope was planning to take her to his land in Galaglea to the north. She would have rarely, if ever, seen her family again. How was this so different—other than the eyes of the angels even now soaring through the skies hunting for her?

  “I am so sorry,” he said.

  “Are you?”

  “Yes. It does not present the same problems to me, but for you, I can only imagine. And yes, Adrea, I am truly sorry.”

  She glanced downward with a sigh. None of this was his fault. If she had anyone to blame, it might be Elyon Himself, but since she was but a small girl, even from the time she had begun to understand her world, there had been this love for whatever or whomever He was, and it came from her heart and soul. It had never left her and never would.

  She could tell Loch was struggling to make this as easy as he could for her, but how could he do that?

  “The deep waters of the west will cloak us,” he explained, “the same waters you have so often felt drawn to. It is because they are the realm of the Followers and the place where lies the island that bears the city of Enoch. Even the angels have trouble hunting those waters, seeing through them. The faith of Enoch obscures their sight.”

  “But did you not say the city of Enoch would be destroyed?”

  “In time, but even then, I could be wrong. I have not studied the futures with devotion. Still, think about it, Adrea, if we can find him, who better to guide us than a prophet who has looked upon the very face of Elyon? We have the Western Sea to hide us and a prophet to tell us how to survive whatever must follow. And we have each other. We are neither of us ordinary, we will learn. Do not be frightened.”

  She nodded, but she was frightened, very frightened—she could almost picture them, the blind sight, the angel eyes that flew, searching, the hunters already hunting—not things easily dismissed.

  Seeing her fear, his eyes went from brown to black; they changed as she watched, even their shape, narrowing. Suddenly, he was the Daath. The Shadow Walker had stepped into his skin. He looked less human now, but determined, strong, even assured. Perhaps he thought that was what she needed.

  “They will not get to you,” he said, a promise. “I am not going to let you be harmed, Adrea. I will protect you. Why else have I trained all my life if not for this?”

  “I believe you, Loch.”

  “And the one in the dream, the reason we have joined, I will not let any harm come to him, either. You are both my charge, why I have been trained since birth, since I could walk or speak. Eryian, my master—every day of my life I have studied, trained. It is no mere illusion. I am a Shadow Walker, so now comes the time I walk the shadows, and you will walk them with me.”

  “Why not make our stand here, surrounded by the invincible legions of the Daath?”

  “A legion can protect against armies, against satraps and kings and princes—but not assassins. If the shadows of the night want us, legions are useless against them. We must become runners.”

  “Forever?”

  “Who can see forever? Let Faith’s Light hold forever. We will focus on the path directly before us—and the path for now is that we become runners.”

  She took a long breath. He was being as careful as he could with her, but there was a vapor of anger running through him and she knew him well, from memories. She knew his anger could quickly become rage, though she understood it was not against her, the anger was from his frustration, how they had lost time, how their lives had literally been stolen.

  “It will be as you say, Loch. I will start pretending now. Aeson and I, we need to be back before dark, and not let Lamachus get angst ridden and riled as he did yesterday.”

  “Yes, yes, it seems silly, considering all we face, but those are the kinds of thoughts you must put in your head. Use the ring, it will help.”

  She nodded.

  “Tomorrow’s dawn we leave for the protection of Enoch’s sea.” “I will be ready.”

  “I am not certain exactly when I will come for you, but it will be early dawn, so stay near the cabin and keep watch.”

  “I will.”

  “And your good-byes …” he paused. “Let your heart speak them as you wish. I do not have family, but you—family is your world. I know how hard it must be. At least I can guess how hard.”

  “You have no family, Loch?”

  “The warlord, but he has kept his distance. He cares, but is a strict master. Whatever his reasons, he has never gotten close. I guess emotions are not part of becoming a Shadow Walker.”

  “What about these girls? They say you have girls, women—people whisper of it.”

  “My harem?”

  “Yes—are they not like family?”

  “No. They are companions. And it is not as people say. I have kept myself pure. I just … they are friends, that is all. Finding me gone, I suppose some will weep. A few of them care. I keep them because I have always preferred the company of women, but I have never loved any of them. I have not loved anyone since the death of my mother.”

  “Why?”

  “You cannot guess?”

  “No.”

  “I have kept my mother’s ring about my neck on that silver chain all my life. The reason I have loved no one is because of the girl in the dreams. The ring left her as real as flesh. I have loved only her, with all my heart. The Water Bearer. You. I have only loved you, Adrea.”

  She nodded. She well understood the power the ring had over memories. “What about your father?”

  “We will not talk about my father.”

  “Why?”

  “Not ever. We do not even mention his name.” He clenched his teeth. “I have no father,” he swore. “Understood?”

  “Very well, Loch. We will not speak of him.”

  He took a breath, burying some emotion. “When you speak your goodbyes, one thing you must remember is that you cannot tell any of them the truth. Even your brother, no matter how close he is to you. No matter how much you trust him. You cannot leave any truths behind that can be traced. I am not you, but if it were my decision—I might just let them believe in this rumor that the Daath sneak into the village of Lucania and steal women, and it turns out you were one of them.”

  “But would that not be a truth?” she said and half-smiled, trying to ease his tension.

  “I suppose you have a point,” he said, but he did not smile. His emotions ran deep, she could tell he struggled hard to keep them in check—that being a minstrel turned warrior had never come easy for him. Emotion was something he would never be comfortable with.

  “I will follow you, Loch,” she said earnestly. “I know your heart as I know my own. But maybe you can tell me what to do with these images still screaming in my head?”

  “Use the ring. Take it out of your belt and put it on your finger.”

  “Put it on my finger. Maybe I should just show it to Lamachus, point out how beautiful the stone is.”

  “I see what you mean. Maybe … perhaps you could wear gloves.”

  “Why did I not think? Of course, I wear gloves all the ti
me.” Finally, a smile from him. She took his hand. “I understand, Loch. I know my world has changed, that we must hide, we must become runners, and for tonight I must pretend. I trust you, I believe in you, so I will do my very best at pretending. And, in fact, I did play with dolls. It was not that long ago, I suppose.”

  “Good. The ring will help. It may even let you fool yourself, let you slip back into your familiar world—turn reality into a dream and make the dream reality. It did that for me on occasion, let me escape. Just pour your thoughts through the ring.”

  They returned through the caverns and back to Terith-Aire. But she did not realize it was Aeson they were riding up to until they had almost reached him. Once close, she had to smile because he made quite a pretty girl—hair in braids with lace and baby’s breath flowers. He wore a rich, gilded bodice. His eyes were painted and he had on an expensive silk tunic and skirt. Those alone were worth more than her entire wardrobe.

  “Do you know the way out of the city?” Loch asked him.

  “Yes, certainly,” he answered as if insulted.

  “Then I will trust her to you.”

  “Fine. I mean thank you … your majesty.”

  Loch turned to Adrea. He held up his hand and spread his fingers in the sign of the word. She returned it, saddened that she was leaving him so soon. To love someone so true and so deep, it was a kind of madness. Perhaps in time that would change.

  “Faith’s Light,” he said. He backed his horse away and nodded to Aeson. “Safe journey, Aeson.”

  “Thank you, your majesty.”

  Aeson pulled on the reins, turning the horse, and left at a gallop, anxious to be gone. Adrea paused only briefly before she turned to follow.

  Once past the gates of the Daathan city, once away from the smell of them, Aeson slowed his pace and rode alongside Adrea at a lope so they could talk. He drew back his lip. “Maiden’s chamber,” he cursed. “They first threatened me as an assassin and threw me in this maiden’s chamber where they told me the truth would be stretched out of me. But it turned out there was nothing in there but actual maidens, and they … they did this to me.” He glanced at her. “And you? What was it all about? What did he want with you?” “I will explain when the time is right.” “He is planning to abduct you, is he not?” “Do I look abducted?”

  “No, but I saw the look in his eye. It was as if he already owned you. He is going to take you. Tell me I am wrong.” “As I said, I will explain in time.” “Why not now?”

  “Because now is not a good time.”

  “Lochlain, son of Argolis—they spoke of him as if he were some god, his maidens. They told me they were his attendants, whatever that implies. I have heard that the Daathan prince is touched. You know, a little bit crazy. His women certainly are. What did you think? Is he touched?”

  “Perhaps a bit.”

  “Well, I do not trust any of them, Adrea, not one of them. And look what they did to me! You should not trust them, either. He is a prince that keeps all those women like a stable of fine horses. He is most likely planning to add you as another mare. These Daath—Father is right, they are all mad.” He glanced behind. “Are they following?”

  “No, we are alone.”

  “I will not trust that until we are home beside the hearth.” Aeson was riding with grim determination, despite the fluttering, expensive veils. When they reached the northern pasture, he paused to think things over. “We should split up,” he decided. “You think?”

  “Yes, I will need to take the long way around, perhaps down past the stream where I can muddy myself up.”

  Adrea stared at him a moment, taken by the way they had painted his eyes, green malachite with the top of his lids dark, extending outward across his temples. She would like to try that herself.

  “Stop staring at me,” he demanded.

  “I am just admiring the workmanship.”

  “You know, Father said the gathering was all a plot of the Daath. I think he is right. I think things were far better off when we were separate tribes, doing as we pleased.”

  “How would you know? You were not born yet.”

  “I just know. I am guessing. The gathering wars were a mistake. We were fine with our old ways.”

  “We still have our old ways, Aeson. The Daath have forced nothing on us.” “You are defending them now?”

  “No, just pointing out they did not force their ways or their faith on any of the tribes; they merely united them.”

  Aeson paused, pulled a strand of baby’s breath from his eyelid, and stared at it, puzzled. “What is this?”

  “It is woven all through your hair.”

  “They have put flowers in my hair!”

  “Along with gold filet. What did they do with your clothes?” “I do not want to talk about what they did, at all, any of it. Is that all right with you?”

  “Of course.”

  “In fact, it will be fine when I can wash this off, get back in my own clothes, and forget this day ever happened. Throw all this down some well.”

  “Perhaps you could save me the bodice?”

  He lowered one brow, but this only made Adrea chuckle.

  “You go straight for the cottage,” he said. “I will circle around through the village and come over the west fence, try to crawl in the back window. Maybe I can sneak in and change clothes before Father spots me.”

  “Let us hope so.”

  “I find nothing about this humorous.” “Perhaps I should get you a hand mirror.” “Ha, very funny, it is all a big joke, I suppose.”

  “Just make sure as you circle through the village that none of the boys make ill advances toward you. Be very firm with them, Aeson.” “I can handle this. I have been in worse situations.” “All right, but take my word for it, some of these boys can be quite bold.” He gave her a last warning glance, turned the horse sharply, and started down the hill. She smiled watching him ride off, straight in the saddle, braided hair bouncing, veils streaming. But once he had gone, she felt sadness close over her. The memories were swiftly returning. She reached into her belt and slipped the ring over her finger, whispering to it in her mind, hide me, return me to simple ways.

  Then she noticed something. It was a figure, far to the north, along the edge of the forest, watching. It was Sandalaphon, the protector of the Daath. She was one of them now. But the idea that she was to be their queen seemed impossible.

  Aeson rode past the tall twisted oak that marked the east field, down its embankment, and started through a shallow stream below. He pulled up on the reins, and was about to dismount—at least wash some of the gunk off, when he openly gasped. “Oh, God …” he muttered silently.

  Lamachus was coming directly toward him, moving slow, pushing several head of cattle before him. Aeson panicked, but there was nowhere to turn. All he could do was wait and hope. Maybe Lamachus wouldn’t notice. But just in case, he began desperately trying to quickly think up some explanation.

  As he passed, Aeson’s father actually did not notice at first. Lamachus simply nodded with a curious glance, a glance one would offer an interesting stranger, and rode through the stream lazily. He looked pretty tired. His thinning hair was sweaty and tangled, his face was dusty. Poor Lamachus. He was so tired from finding all the baron’s cattle that he hadn’t even noticed a golden-fileted, painted trollop in the middle of his eastern field. Aeson held his breath.

  Suddenly, Lamachus paused, pulling up on the reins. Slowly, he turned in the saddle, squinting. Then his mouth dropped open. He turned the horse sharply, splashed through the stream, and pulled up directly in front of Aeson, staring, astonished.

  “Good God! Boy, is that you?”

  Aeson swallowed, uncertain he had voice. “Yes, Father. It is me.”

  “Blessed mother of us all!”

  “Am I ever glad to see you, Father.”

  “Explain that to me, boy.”

  “Well, this morning I … I was near the road looking for cows, when suddenly …” He paus
ed a moment. “Yes, yes—when suddenly?”

  “When suddenly this caravan passed. Lots of painted wagons.”

  “A caravan?”

  “Yes. Actors, I believe.”

  “Actors?”

  Aeson nodded. “I think so. I first tried to outrun them. But they had fast horses.”

  “Actors with fast horses?”

  “Yes. Surprising, is it not? You would not think acting paid that well.” “But why on God’s good earth do you believe actors would run you down?” “I wondered of that! I did!” Lamachus curled his lip. “And?”

  “Perhaps there were not enough actors. For their play, I mean. Perhaps it was just a very important play and they needed another. They were headed for Terith-Aire. Yes, thinking on it now, they must have needed another player very badly. For the part of a girl. Which is … which explains why they … ah … tied me up and did this to me.”

  Lamachus stared wide-eyed. His mouth parted but he said nothing.

  “I know … it must sound odd, but—”

  “Odd? Boy, that is the most amazing story I have ever heard and it makes no damned sense at all.”

  “No?”

  “Not a shred of sense.” “I suppose not.”

  “But it is obvious what has happened here.”

  “It is?”

  “Slavers.”

  “What?”

  “Good God, they were slavers. Not actors!” “You think so?”

  “Well, of course I think so! God gave me a brain, though you must have stepped out of line to void your piss when they were being handed out! Think on it! If someone tied me up and painted me like a trollop, I would not for the love of frogs think actors had done it!”

  “Ahhh …”

  “Lord, boy, we all know good actors are hard to find, but to think they would kidnap villagers to play parts! God save us.” Lamachus shook his head. “Must have been planning to sell you on the block. But how could the fools take you for a girl!”

  Aeson thought this over. “Perhaps …”

  Lamachus waited.

  “Well … they knew I was not a girl, but—look at me.”

  “Indeed,” Lamachus mumbled. “On my mother, you look fit to be married! God in heaven, I would marry you. You should kiss the earth, boy. Give thanks you have escaped!”