by Jasmine Walt
Alaysha found no resistance as she approached the entrance. Any kind of reception, she knew, would be beyond the wall within the death hole. Yuri had used the labor of captives over the last decade to build a dwelling for himself of solid white stone from quarries across his land. The stones were mortared together by a paste of clay mixed with the starchy glue of a sticky grain they threshed in the fall. It wasn't solid so much as it was flexible, letting the stone stand and move against battering rams or scaling ladders. It also meant it was guarded heavily so that the vertical slits could be re-manned by archers as quickly as they went down.
The question was whether Bronwyn had delivered her message and what Yuri had done when she did. That would decide what greeted her when she unwound the gate. There could be a hundred guards ready to burst through, or the entire city could already be retreating through the south gate into the woods beyond. It was even possible Edulph's people were lined up at the gate waiting to be loosed. Possible, but highly unlikely.
She looked up for signs of the guard. Nothing. The sky was still blue, but turning to indigo at the edges. In a few moments, it would begin to bleed to pink and then to crimson, and then the sun would be gone.
She sent her thirst out ahead of her, searching for water. She tasted stagnant well, skins filled with leathery water, the odd bit of moisture within mushrooms hidden in parts of cellars. She searched for sweat next, and tears. Blood. There was precious little of the first two, quite a bit of the last.
She chewed her lip and looked for the handle to open the door. She took a breath and grasped the lever, grunting at the effort and only managing to swing the door open enough to squeeze inside.
What she expected was not what met her. At first quick glance, the death hole was empty and obviously meant to appear so. She turned just to the right where she knew a platform had been erected for archers. It was empty of warriors save one.
Edulph's emissary was dangling by one foot from the top. His eyes stared forward in death.
It was the low hum that really caught her attention and when she looked to the left, there, all piled like refuse, lay hundreds of bodies. All raggedly dressed, filthy. The dregs of the slave quarters. The laborers. The ones who were used to cut trees and lug stones to keep the wall fires fed. All would have been Edulph's people, she knew. Yuri had elected to kill them rather than give in to the demands.
So. It was obvious his message had been received and not been appreciated.
She scanned the area, holding her breath against the smell of defecation and urine that had been the last living task of self-preservation. She refused to look at the two dogs rooting in the pile of bodies or the rat that scuttled from one corner of the wall to burrow beneath. Instead, she turned to the sky. It was turning pink. She hoped Yenic got Edulph by now and had managed to free Aedus. Whether or not he had, it would not matter soon enough.
"They say the witch cares for nothing."
Alaysha couldn't believe she was hearing the voice. She whirled around to see Bronwyn standing next to the well, her hand touching the pail.
"Thank the Deities," she said. It took her a moment to realize the girl didn't seem afraid. "Are you okay?"
Bronwyn nodded.
Alaysha was confused. "What happened here?"
The girl looked at the man hanging from the rafters of the platform. "It would seem our father does care for daughters."
"He had him killed to save you?" Alaysha had to know.
Bronwyn's expression softened. "Maybe. But I think he died because he dared oppose Yuri."
Alaysha waved at the pile of dead laborers. "And these?"
"To show Edulph how we feel about being opposed."
"Where's Yuri?"
At that, Bronwyn cast a nervous glance to her left. It was so quick, Alaysha might doubt she'd seen it except for the shadow that moved in the portico and then stilled.
"Do you oppose your father, Witch?"
Before Alaysha could answer the voice behind her, she felt the air stir, and the hot feeling of wetness streaming down her hip. She looked down at herself. Blood. So much of it. She placed her hand on her waist, looking for the source, and then the pain came, and then the fear came with it.
She thought she heard her father shout, and Bronwyn let go a shriek. She thought she saw Drahl dance in front of her, his sword held aloft, ready to strike again, but it was too late to see more or to assess much else.
The thirst had already come, and her mouth filled with the taste of his sweat. She saw the paths to his moisture and collected it so fast he collapsed in front of her, stiff, hard, a leathered husk without eyes to see what he'd done. She was already tasting the tears from Bronwyn's face, the liquid in the blood that drove from her heart to her throat.
She tried to stop it. She tried to picture her nohma, Aedus, Yenic, anyone she had any real connection to. She worked hard to bring some memory of love to her mind, but all that came was the stagnant water left in the leathered skins, the cold water from the well.
Her stomach was on fire, and all she could think was that she had to put it out, and even as she fell to her knees, she could see the droplets gathering above the well into a cloud of mist, ready to come to her bidding.
She felt someone's hands on her belly, pressing hard. She tried to focus on the face: Bronwyn. Her face working to shed tears that had already been pulled from her. Yuri's stern mouth yelling, his hands beneath her head.
"Stop it," he demanded. "You're killing Bronwyn."
Bronwyn. Aedus. Yenic. Nohma. Nohma and her stories. Nohma sewing garnets into her bridal tunic. Nohma kissing her forehead and singing her to sleep after battle with songs of some place called Etlantium that her mother loved. Her mother. Never known but for that one second when she saw the sea green color of her eyes in that one instant before the memory went black.
Finally, all she could taste was the blood from her own mouth, and she knew she'd been able to stop the power. She hoped it wasn't too late, that her struggles to contain it had at least kept it from accelerating.
"It's over," she heard her father say, and she looked up at the sky to see the crimson edged clouds block out the last of the sun.
She couldn't help a weak smile. Yes. All over soon.
The hands on her stomach had gone and she could make out the scuffling sound of footsteps in the dirt. There was an exclamation of surprise from Yuri and a demand to lower a weapon. Then: Yenic's voice? Cocky. Saying he was not a mere number. Bronwyn begging for a poor madman's life.
Someone pressed again on her stomach.
"She's gone for the shaman." Yuri's voice. Bronwyn, he must mean.
"Don't you dare let her die," she heard. Was it Yenic? Or Yuri? She couldn’t tell anymore, just felt hands on her belly, pressing down hard. She wanted to tell them both it didn't matter. Soon she couldn't be used anymore—not by her father, not by Edulph. Balance could come when she was gone. She couldn't speak and her eyelids felt so heavy, all she wanted to do was close them. She thought of all the seeds she'd collected, hoping someday she could find a way to grow them back into men. It was childish. A fantasy. She should have known the only way she could undo what she'd done was to undo herself.
She felt herself go, and sent a silent thanks to her nohma's deities for taking away the pain of living. She thought she felt the first drops of rain.
17
Yenic's voice, mingled with Yuri's, was the sound she heard when she returned. Arguing. Yenic's patient tone against Yuri's steely cold one.
"He's even madder now than before." She heard Yenic say and in her cloud of confusion, it seemed natural to hear both of those voices in the same proximity.
"If she'd not brought him here, we wouldn't have to concern ourselves." Was Yuri's reply. So he was angry at her for bringing Edulph. She didn’t blame him, but why would he be discussing it with the hated number nineteen?
She rolled her head to the side and breathed. She smelled smoke and boiled poultry. She no longer lay on th
e earth, but felt the cushion of goose feathers and linen beneath her back, the weight of a soft linen and fur atop her. Her stomach felt numb and she reached down to feel for the wound she knew was there. Her fingers came away sticky.
"It's honey."
With some effort, she was able to open her eyes.
Bronwyn sat next to her. On quick scan, Alaysha could tell they were in one of the wooden buildings mazing the Main Keep; she guessed it was the young wife's home. She sat in the corner cooing to a bundle of linens. So it seemed Alaysha had not killed the heir after all. She was surprised that she felt nothing at the awareness and realized she was probably drugged.
"The shaman sewed you shut and bandaged you," Bronwyn said. "He says the honey will keep away the green death."
"I'm not dead, then."
Bronwyn broke a smile. "Nearly. Drahl wasn't supposed to do that." She hid her eyes behind a fringe of hair as she hung her head. "I'm sorry."
Alaysha tried to pat the girl's hand; she ended up merely poking at the top with weak fingers. It was coming more clearly now. Yuri and Yenic in the same room? These enemies? Someone would die. She tried to get up and intercept the bloodshed she knew would soon come, and a stab of pain shot through her.
"Yenic," she mumbled falling back onto her mattress.
"It's okay," Bronwyn said. "He and Father have a common enemy, it seems."
And so were reluctant allies.
"Aedus?" she asked, but was surprised that the sound was a mere whisper.
"Yenic was able to save her."
The relief stung her eyes and she had to close them to ease the pain.
It seemed her father and Yenic both realized she was awake at the same time, and both faces hovered above hers when she opened them again.
"Alaysha," Yenic said. "You're awake. Do you remember much? Do you feel strong again?"
Her father merely scowled at him. "Never mind if she feels strong." His tone held something that Alaysha might have called suspicion if she had to label it.
"This boy dares tell me you have been badly trained." He'd made some sort of peace with Yenic, but it was obvious he was unhappy about it.
"She does need training," Yenic said to Yuri. "I told you, the best defense is to teach her. Not to leave her ignorant."
Yuri straightened and squared off against Yenic, whose bruises were yellowed now instead of purple. "If it's as dire as you say, then you should be out there, not in here."
"And leave Alaysha alone with you."
"She's been with me her eighteen years," Yuri said. "You see harm in her staying longer?"
Bronwyn hovered over her. "They've been fighting since Father allowed Yenic to live."
Alaysha could only guess why. "Edulph survived."
The girl nodded. "Went mad, according to Aedus, and ran off into the woods shouting at things that weren't there."
"What kinds of things?"
"Witches that breathe fire, that make the earth shake."
Her words caught Yenic's attention and Yuri stood watching his reaction with a narrowed gaze. Yenic rushed to the bedside.
"Witches, Alaysha. Do you know what that means?"
"It means we are in even more danger now," Yuri said. He took in Alaysha's face and made a hard line with his lips. She could only imagine what he was thinking.
Yenic ignored him. "You were made powerful because you received your grandmother and mother's unused power at the same time. It peaks as you age, and wanes too. It collects, waiting to be uncoiled. When your grandmother died, and your mother, you inherited the culmination of all that available waiting power. It doubled, tripled in you." He glared at Yuri. "Your father knew this and used it."
"And you wouldn't?" Yuri said to him and Yenic held the icy gaze until the baby squalled and Yuri rushed to the corner to take it from its mother.
"Nohma?" Alaysha had to know. If she was protected, then why had she died?
Yenic sighed. "No one could know your power was too much for her as you grew older. It seems even a blood witch is not safe when the power coils so tightly or when the blood is too far from the source."
"What of Drahl?" she asked, touching her side.
Yuri stepped forward, all bluster and outrage. He had his hand cupped over the heir's head and Alaysha thought he'd squeeze the poor thing, so fierce was his tone.
"Drahl was a soldier to the last." His white hair was in disarray, as though he'd run greasy fingers through it repeatedly. She'd never seem him so restless.
She knew he wouldn't malign his scout; he'd rather believe he tried to kill in the Great Yuri's service rather than from hatred.
"Drahl is dead," Yenic said. "And Edulph lives. And if he was raving about the witches, then he knows of the others."
Yuri snorted and Alaysha had a hard time keeping him in focus, so much did he begin to pace about the room. She knew her brow was furrowing in confusion, but she didn't have the words to ask what she wanted. Yenic reached for her hand.
"My mother," he murmured. "And the earth witch. The first is powerful, yes, but the last was made as you were, and she is a babe yet."
"You said your tribe was gone."
He sent her a regretful smile. "I have to keep some secrets."
Another snort from Yuri, derisive, disbelieving.
She looked at her father, and said the first thing that came to her mind. "If Edulph finds the child, he'll try to control her." He glowered, but said nothing in his defense. In truth, he had begun to prowl about and went repeatedly to the corner of the room where his young wife sat. He eased the child into her arms and bid her leave.
"We can't let him reach either of the witches," he said, and looked pointedly at Yenic.
She closed her eyes. Everything hurt, and this news made it all seem worse. "I need to go," she said and Yenic put his hand on her shoulder when she tried to get up.
"You need to rest and heal. You're not useful in this shape."
"I'm better."
"Not better enough to be useful."
She sighed and Bronwyn laid a cool linen against her forehead. Alaysha tried to brush it away.
"We have to stop—"
Yuri's voice cut her off. "We will stop him. The bastard nearly had my whole city on the brink of death."
Alaysha took him in, from the long, untethered white hair to his steel blue eyes, and couldn't stop the question no matter how hard she tried. "Is that what has you so angry, Father? How does it feel?"
He glowered at her and turned to Yenic. "I will stop anyone who threatens me. You understand this?"
Yenic gave a brief nod.
"You are only alive because of Edulph. You know that, too?"
"You've already told me three times. If I didn't understand the first and second, surely one more time will help me."
Yuri grunted his satisfaction, but he didn't seem ready to give in. "If you do take Aedus and head out to find him, I want him brought here."
"I should go to my mother first."
"No." Yuri's voice was adamant. "Not alone. Not even with Aedus. You need the witch for that." With a deft movement, he pointed to Alaysha. She thought he'd forgotten she could hear.
"Perhaps I could bring my mother here. Alaysha should be trained."
Alaysha wasn't sure bringing more powerful women into Yuri's domain was a good idea. Yenic nodded as though it wasn't a concern at all. "Yes. First I'll go to my mother. Then we'll return for Alaysha."
Yuri shook his head. "Return for the witch? What does that mean?"
"To take her with us when we search for the babe. I'm sure you would want her properly trained if we find ourselves against an unpredictable and powerful child."
Yuri seemed to be considering and when he'd come to some sort of internal answer to his own raging debate, he spoke with authority. "She's unpredictable enough," he said, nodding toward Alaysha. "So, go. We'll care for her until you return."
She could have been a flank of venison the way he said it. She closed her eyes and felt
the warmth of lips on her cheek; without looking, she knew they were Yenic's.
His voice fell to a whisper. "You're safe now. Rest and build your strength."
She burrowed deeper beneath the fur and let sleep take her.
18
She woke to the sound of chirping birds, and the smell of fresh air coming in through an open window. Aedus was toddling around the room, picking items up and shoving them into a leather bag.
"Where have you been?"
The girl spun on her heel and dropped the bundle. "You don't remember."
Alaysha shook her head.
"I've been here since Yenic brought you in—all but for the first day when I was sent to the shaman." She lifted her hand and Alaysha noticed the place where the index finger had been severed had been seared closed and smoothed over. She winced, and Aedus grinned.
"It's okay. They gave me a draft: root of dreams the shaman said, while they cleaned it up. I slept like a dog after a big meal."
"I think I've sampled it myself." Alaysha tried to shift and sent pain streaking across her midsection.
"Don't move," the girl told her. "You don't want to split it open again."
"Again?"
The girl nodded.
"Where's Yenic?"
Aedus chewed her lip. "He's saddling Barruch."
"And you're going with him?"
The girl came closer. "Well, it's not like I was going to leave until I said goodbye."
Alaysha tried to smile, but she felt too lonely all of a sudden to do a good job of it.
"Don't worry, Alaysha. It's just a few days. You need to heal anyway, and we'll be back just when you're well enough to train."
"You sound like Yenic."
"He made me practice the words." The girl smoothed the fur over Alaysha's legs thoughtfully, then she brightened.
"I have a horse. Yenic demanded one for me."
"Yenic is commanding the great Yuri?"
"The great Yuri has become strangely cooperative."
Alaysha grunted at that news. She had wondered herself at the sudden shift in Yuri, and even though he was still surly, his surliness was still not typical.
