Shadows of Aggar (Amazons of Aggar)

by Chris Anne Wolfe

  Di’nay would not have the luxury of reaching that way-station. If she did, she would meet with those she trailed. By the signs Elana guessed Di’nay was stalking with no desire to overtake the men. Her Amazon was gradually lengthening the distance between herself and the trio as the land permitted less and less cover.

  Elana had almost overtaken Di’nay earlier that afternoon. Her concentration had been so intent on keeping pace and on the men further ahead that she had inadvertently come too near. She berated herself for her incompetence, although she realized she was probably just disgruntled and uncomfortable; her bleeding had begun earlier than usual and she hurt. Trekking across an increasingly barren and chilly countryside was not improving her mood. It had hurt more when she had come close enough to decipher Di’nay’s amarin.

  Elana sighed dejectedly, and the eitteh lifted its head from her shoulders. The animal had, as usual, elected to lay itself atop pack and shoulders to doze as Elana marched on. But the melancholy that wrapped its human worried the small creature. A downy soft paw touched the flushed cheek, and Elana smiled, glancing at her concerned friend. She stroked a finger across a paw top but could offer no more reassurance. Then, each understanding the limits of the other, they let their attentions return to their own thoughts.

  It was clear to Elana that the Amazon had deliberately set out on her own. Still, a piece within her heart hoped that the woman half-expected to be followed and to be found. That Di’nay feared Elana’s following had been evident in her amarin and frequent back glances when Elana had gotten close. It had been a harsh, forbidding expectancy that recalled the icy wall that so often rose between them. The steely set to Di’nay’s anger foretold a verbal confrontation — an outright refusal of her company should Elana appear.

  Elana had retreated unseen, allowing herself to stay only close enough to calm the throbbing lifestone at her wrist. She remembered telling Di’nay on their first meeting that a Shadow was dispensable if she became burdensome. She thought herself foolish now to have arrogantly assumed that she could never become a hindrance. She took little comfort in the notion that no trainee would have been properly prepared for this relationship. But she’d been chosen by the Mother’s own hand — somewhere she had neglected something that would have resolved this rift.

  Memories of sleepless nights in the dormitories drifted back to her… times when her Sight had been plagued by couples in adjoining chambers. Memories, fantasies, stolen moments of amarin from the trainees and kitchen maids — all stumbled by, but even the most innocent, most tender of first kisses did not compare to what Di’nay and she had shared.

  It was the lack of a reference point. It was like comparing mencat to human. They were so different that it was nonsensical even to try. She did not want to try; she knew that she wanted this woman… she loved this woman. And she wanted her any way Di’nay would have her.

  † † †

  The sun was rising again. At least a pale disk was growing visible through the overcast sky. The wind continued to push the ever thickening front to the south at a surprising speed. There was a chilly breeze at ground level, but no evidence of the ferocity that one glimpsed in the sky.

  Elana found it reassuring. She would worry when the clouds became more sluggish and the wind dropped to howl across the earth.

  There was a change in patterns that did concern her, however. It involved those she followed. The road climbed abruptly a few leagues ahead of Di’nay and presented the trio with one last opportunity to send someone scouting behind for trackers. Beyond that point, direct confrontation was about all that was possible; the trail was carved into rock and cliff, and there was scant cover available for hiding. It wasn’t surprising when the three sent someone circling back.

  Elana forced herself to relax. There was no immediate danger and plenty of time to counter his maneuver. Yet knowing that he was moving did not tell her exactly where he was. That detail she could discern only about Di’nay; she was not a Seer.

  The eitteh stirred in its placid repose and stretched with a yawn. Giving a light push, it jumped from the green-clad shoulders. It was curious that her human was choosing to stop again. It had not been long since the last halt.

  Elana shrugged off the pack and sat down with a bump. She would have taken any excuse to sit… at least the cramps had lessened slightly. Exhausted, she opened her waterskin. It was still icy from the night air and cool in her mouth. She offered the eitteh a sniff, but the animal shook its head with ruffled indignation — there was better to be had even in these hills.

  “Eitteh,” Elana called to her companion as she capped the water and set it aside. Agreeably the beast approached and allowed Elana to half-lift it under its forelegs. Silently the emerald and sapphire gazes locked, and Elana posed her problem.

  Disdainful, but lacking any particular reason to decline, the eitteh blinked and wiggled out of the gentle grasp. It walked a few leisurely paces and then took to the air with a lunge.

  Elana leaned back against the scruffy tree trunk, only half-noting its sluggish rhythms. She watched the soaring shape as it ascended to a faint dot, then she was one with the eitteh surveying the barren ripples and dust of the land below.

  The top soil here had long ago been washed into the valley’s center and the scrub that was gray-green in the best of times was a tired brown as it awaited the onslaught of winter. Against such monotony humans were easily discernable.

  The pictures swung in a slow spiral. There, the green-clad one marched on. Ahead, two fainter forms had mounted the trail into the pass. There was another — somewhere. There — in a dusky brown cloak that meshed well with the land was a tall figure, sickly thin to the eitteh’s predatory eye even from this height. The figure moved quickly. Bent low, almost in a permanent hunch, it loped across the empty terrain. It was armed with bow and arrow.

  Quickly the eitteh circled higher, wary of that weapon. The figure moved too fast for mere scouting, seeming to follow a pre-laid plan. As the eitteh turned for a final pass the figure too turned, angling back. It would meet the road south of the green-cloaked One.

  Elana blinked, breaking the contact with her winged friend. She pressed her fingertips against her eyes. That scout would be coming from the west and taking Di’nay from behind, but his path would put him ahead of herself.

  She reached for her crossbow and the air cracked with the sound of its setting. Companion or not, she was still protector.

  † † †

  The eitteh rumbled coldly, distastefully, but the sound was faint and barely reached Elana’s own ears. The creature, too, was leery of this tall form they watched.

  With the eitteh, Elana glimpsed a grizzled, scarred profile as he turned, searching for his best vantage point. His greasy, blue-black hair was stringy and poorly cut at collar length. His beard was nearly as scruffy and ill-kept. If this was Tartuk, she understood her father’s disgust; the amarin were stomach-retching.

  The foothills had become a shallow maze of bluffs. The climb and drop of the rock afforded some cover but not much. Hesitant to confront his prey openly, he scrambled back down into the ravine. Elana’s gaze followed his movements, noting his lack of pack and sword. There were two knives at his belt, a full quiver and the long bow. She recognized the cylindrical metal rods of her father’s special arrows. Indeed this must be Tartuk — bent on a kill from a safe distance. He was an expert on ambush. His soundless tread, the muted color of cloak, and his metallic arrows all attested to his lethalness. A man would not risk losing a small fortune with each arrow released; he knew — not expected — but knew he would retrieve each arrow he loosed.

  The eitteh circled off, and under her Sight’s cloak Elana crept after the man. She moved cautiously, wary of his skills as she bent the auras around her. Her own pack and cloak had long been discarded; she needed the mobility. Her crossbow was set with two bolts and her knife had been moved from belt to boot. She did not carry extra bolts; she had no illusions about a second chance with th
is man.

  A rock clacked against another and both hunters froze. Di’nay, Elana realized. She watched as her quarry carefully straightened enough to see beyond the ravine’s north side. Elana did not need to look to know the Amazon had risen from her short rest and was shouldering her pack to move on.

  The man crouched again and hurried forward, setting an arrow as he went.

  Elana glanced ahead as she broke into a run. He wanted that bluff just beyond the crevice. It would give him the most unimpeded view of Di’nay’s hollow and a deadly vantage point.

  She reached the place opposite as his string drew back. Her knee hit the dirt and the stock found her shoulder. Her finger squeezed, but beyond she felt Di’nay turn, and Tartuk dove from sight — the bolt struck the ground, pinning his cape above his elbow.

  Black eyes widened, startled as they found Elana. Together they shot and rolled, instinctively protecting themselves as they fired. The crossbow dropped. She lunged across the gully before he could grasp another arrow, but his hand had reached for a knife as her own pulled free.

  The lip of the gulch gave way as they tumbled and dropped a half dozen feet. His rib broke with a muffled crack as they landed, his quiver beneath his back. But the momentum carried them on. Knives hovered — swayed — each with a hand grasped to wrist to stay a plunging blade.

  He twisted and gained the weight advantage atop her. With a half-human snarl he thought of triumph. But her body bucked as his arm pulled free enough to strike and she faced him fully — her blue eyes piercing his small brain with a distorted fury. A scream gurgled into silence as her blade sank between his ribs.

  Her head dodged, but his precious chance had been spent. His knife struck stone.

  She heaved his smelly frame from her body. The fleeting moments of life that were left to him held him immobile, eyes frozen to the gray skies.

  Urgently she snatched his thin chin in hand and jerked his face to hers again. Eyes locked as she concentrated, absorbing, pulling — robbing him of every last struggling thought — searching for anything that might be valuable.

  He died wide-eyed, enmeshed with her mind until the final half-breath when even she abandoned him to his solitude.

  Elana gasped for air and dropped back against the earth. The eitteh grumbled from a rocky perch above, pleased her human had been successful, though doubting her efficiency. Still, if she had failed, the eitteh would not have.

  Stiffly Elana pushed herself up to a sitting position. Her body ached from the fall, but she was in one piece. And Di’nay?

  The eitteh rumbled again and shared a picture with her of Di’nay unsuspecting and traveling on.

  Good enough, Elana thought, and gasped in a little more air. Her stomach turned over as she looked at her victim; it was a struggle to swallow. Di’nay was right, it did not get any easier. The man stared, unseeing, at her boots.

  She rose and picked up her hunting knife. Still — it was different when Di’nay’s very breath was at stake.

  † † †

  Chapter Four

  Elana added a few more sticks to her small fire. Unseen, the snow blew outside the cave, and she sighed. The only cheering thoughts of the day had been that she had stopped bleeding and she had fresh meat for eventide, but she sorely missed the company of her furry friend. The eitteh had traveled with her into the mountains for a full day following Tartuk’s death, but the altitude and the cold had already begun to affect her. Elana knew that usually the females of the eitteh’s species avoided the wintry regions — except when it was their time for hibernation. The elevation had dulled the eitteh’s senses, and finally the animal had chosen to go her own way. Elana did not blame her. The eitteh was not fattened enough to survive a long sleep, and the type of men Elana tracked were too dangerous. The winged-cat was wiser than to depend on Elana to get her through the mountains.

  The wind howled, and a whistling whine sang above her. Elana looked curiously at the cave’s ceiling. Somewhere the crack that drew the fire’s smoke up was also flirting with that wind. She frowned. She did wonder where Di’nay was. This was the last decent way-station this side of Cellar’s Gate. Further on where the cliffs jigged and jagged enough to offer a windbreak, there were a few places, but they were not going to be sufficient for this storm.

  The winds changed directions slightly and the howl subsided. The cave was well set into the rock, and the triangular crevice that opened to the trail twisted sharply, creating a narrow entrance tunnel. It was an effective wind block; what little breeze did manage to seep in was deflected along the walls. That feature combined with the natural hot springs and dribbling waterfall created a surprisingly warm haven, and a fairly large one too. Eight or so could sleep comfortably — a dozen or more by necessity — on the sandy floor. Given its size and strategic location, it had not gone unnoticed by the King’s militia. The soldiers had long ago added latrines, dry food stocks, and fire rings and had stoned up some of the springs to create a bathing pool.

  Elana added another pinch of seasoning to the simmering stew. She had downed a middling-sized bird at mid-day and had had to do some scrambling to retrieve it. She hadn’t been sure how well supplied the cave would be. Travelers were not expected this close to winter, and the food stores were usually not replenished until the spring. She was glad of her caution now. The salted meats were all but gone and everything else had long been used. It would last a couple days, but the first break in the weather she needed to go hunting. Actually, she had seen fresh signs of migrating schefea in the area; they would probably be faced with a similar need for food. That would make them easier to find even if the weather broke for only a few hours. Elana dished out her eventide on a less quieting thought. How was Di’nay going to react when she found herself saddled with a Shadow again?

  The wind whistled faintly. Night would be falling all too soon. Elana decided she’d rather have the Amazon stony and angry and here than out there somewhere.

  The almost smooth stone ceiling of the cavern did not help calm her fears. The ancient, silent rock housed small wisps of lichen and the waters some faint traces of algae, but it was a stern fortress that severely limited her Sight’s powers. The wooden latrine stalls, the discarded shards of crockery, and the coursing flow of fresh water all touched her awareness and belied her isolation, but it was frustrating not being able to sense Di’nay’s path. She was tempted to step outside the warm sanctuary, but the driving snow would blind her, and without clearer vision, her gift was useless.

  Not wholly, Elana realized with a start and looked at the tunnel entrance. The Amazon stood hidden, wary — not yet in position to glimpse the interior fully.

  Elana self-consciously pushed her loosened hair over a shoulder. Her heart pounded as she waited, and she knew it was from fear as well was relief.

  A flash of silver flipped through the air as Diana tossed her knife over and sheathed it, stepping clear of the shadows. Snow dusted her brown hair and dampened the cloak and pack. She stood silent, long bow in hand, staring at the woman. Elana’s pack was undone, her blanket laid, and her stew smelled delicious. Her black underknits and linen tunic had been washed and set aside to dry.

  Diana’s dark gaze narrowed as it returned to the young woman. Elana’s breeches and blue tunic hid the slenderness of her body but not the curves. Her long tousled hair was still damp from a washing and her skin was rich ivory in this dim light. Had it been possible to forget how beautiful she was? Diana thanked the Goddess that she had. Her own rather pitiful illusions had caused her heartache enough; she doubted she would have survived a truer image’s haunting. With a short sigh Diana dropped her bow and pack. There was no place to go but here.

  Silently Elana turned and retrieved another two bowls and a spoon from her cooking set. One bowl she filled with stew and set aside for Di’nay. The other she took to the wall’s trickling spring to fill. As she placed the water on the fire to boil, she caught the sarcastic lift of Di’nay’s lips, but Elana could not tell if Di
’nay was disapproving of the tea water or of some internal thought. She wasn’t about to ask and sat down to resume eating.

  Diana stripped off her wet garments and opened the velcro seams that had begun to chafe her collarbone. She spread her boots and clothes out to dry a bit and then, clad in her white fieldsuit, sat herself down next to the waiting dinner.

  Sighing, she ate. But it wasn’t going to work — this silence. With an effort she cleared her throat and offered softly, “Would it help if I apologized?”

  “I did say a Shadow should be left if she becomes a burden.”

  “That wasn’t why — ” Diana stopped. She did not really want to explain her muddled reasons for departing, but she also did not want Elana believing she had been incompetent either. She tried again. “I did not find you burdensome.”

  Elana studied the beautiful angles of that solemn face. “Not even emotionally?”

  Diana shuddered at her perceptiveness. “I beg your patience. I simply did not want you hurt.”

  By whom? Tartuk or herself? Elana thought and held her tongue.

  “This is good,” Diana murmured, stirring her stew a little. “I have missed your cooking.”

  Elana smiled sadly. It was Di’nay’s way of saying she had missed her. “I’m glad you like it.”

  “I don’t expect you would consider going back?”

  “No,” Elana said firmly. “Especially since you’ve no idea where the Priory is and your guides will be lost to you in this storm.”

  “Priory?” Diana watched her closely. “What do you know of the men I follow?”

  “Enough.” Elana remembered Tartuk’s body with regret. “They are Maltar’s men. He has sent for them because he believes they know the ways of the Council since they live relatively close by in Colmar. I suspect they know little, though they live nearer than any others he commands. They were to deliver the ransom demands to the Keep first and then join his Court. They recruited Tartuk for a bodyguard when their bearded friend did not reappear in Colmar. Tartuk had apparently worked for the Maltar often and was considered — trustworthy.” She couldn’t help the faint echo of disbelief that invaded her voice. “Their destination is the Priory, a fortress that long ago belonged to a religious order. Now it is used by the Maltar. It defends the northeastern bank of the river gorge — the borders of his lands. He often holds summer court there. His task for these men is to identify the ‘strange spirit’ that he holds there now.”