by Clare Smith
She tried to do the same, but before she could place the goblet on the table, it slipped from her hand and she slid from the chair. Dionostes caught her before she reached the floor and carried her to a couch where he made her as comfortable as he could.
“I’m sorry Amalaya for my betrayal, but you have been chosen by the goddess and I’m neither foolish enough nor brave enough to incur Athena’s wrath.
*
Amalaya woke not to total darkness as she thought she would, but to a darkness filled with sparkles of colour and bright flashing lights. If it hadn’t been for the intense pain where her eyes should have been, she might have thought it was night time and she was straining her eyes to see in the dark, but there could be no doubt about what had been done to her. She even remembered it happening or at least, the part before she passed out with the pain
After being betrayed by Dionostes she’d woken up in a long room in the temple buildings, tied so tightly to a table that she couldn’t move. Then Priestess Sissinia had forced her eyes open whilst the High Priestess had pierced her eyes. She remembered the glowing needle coming towards her and a pain so intense that it was almost impossible to bear. Then she’d screamed and screamed again until her throat was raw. She was still screaming when her other eye was taken, but after that there was nothing for a long time, except the voices in her head and the fire in her body.
Now she was awake though and aware of her surroundings. Beneath her was a hard mattress which stank of stale sweat and vomit, whilst covering her naked body was a scratchy wool blanket which smelled even worse. Something was tied around her wrists and ankles, but it wasn’t there to restrain her, rather the bindings smelled of animal fat and herbs.
By the jerking movement and the rumbling of wheels, she guessed that she was inside a wagon, and as she couldn’t feel the wind on her face she concluded that it was a covered wagon. There were other things in there as well because she could hear pots clattering and smell a dozen different aromas which made her realise how hungry she was. She was thirsty too, as if all the moisture had been leached out of her, and all that was left was a dry husk.
That wasn’t the only thing which was different, although she’d tried to ignore the burning sensation on her face. Slowly she removed her hand from beneath her blanket, wincing as the covering on her wrist moved and rubbed against the rope burns beneath it. When her hand reached her shoulder, she felt for her long hair but it had gone. Instead there were just short, ragged ends as if someone had hacked it away with a knife.
Compared to all the other things they had done to her, losing her hair shouldn’t have mattered, but it did. Her fair hair had been different and had been part of who she was, and without it she felt more adrift than being in darkness. It was as if someone had taken away her identity but had forgotten to tell her who she now was.
There was more though. Carefully she moved her hand upwards and touched the skin by her jaw feeling the edge of three marks which hadn’t been there before. Slowly her fingers followed the lines across her cheek. One deep cut stopped just below her eye, the second stopped level with her eyebrow and the third reached into her hairline. The cuts were scabbed over, but she could feel where the skin had been drawn tightly together with large, untidy stitches.
She let her hand fall away not bothering to touch her other cheek which she knew would be the same. The priestesses had done their work well. The scars would be hideous, and with her milk white eyes and ragged hair, any hope she had of escaping her fate had gone. She would have cried if that had been possible, but even that simple act had been denied her, so she tried to put the thoughts of what she’d become out of her mind and concentrated on what she knew about her new home.
Delphi was the second of the great temples which stood amongst olive groves and tall cedar trees. It was an immensely wealthy temple, as rich people from across the mainland and the island kingdoms came there to seek the wisdom of the Oracle. Even kings visited there and left behind valuable gifts for the upkeep of the temple and those who lived there.
As the wealth of the temple was dependant on the strength of the Oracle and the accuracy of their predictions, she thought those with the gift of foretelling would be honoured and well cared for, which was a blessing. There would also be others there who couldn’t see, and from whom she could learn to live with her blindness. It wasn’t the life that she wanted, but at least she would be safe and comfortable for the rest of her life.
She was still wondering what it would be like to be a priestess in such a place when the movement of the wagon stopped. For a moment she felt helpless and afraid, but then realised that the wagon must have stopped many times on its journey to Delphi whilst she’d been delirious, and nothing untoward had happened to her so far. She tried to relax and listen to the noises outside the wagon so she could have some idea of where she was.
Delphi was a busy place and lots of people lived there, so if they had arrived at their destination there should have been the sounds of people talking and perhaps chanting from the temple precinct. Instead all she could hear was the bleating of goats, a few clucking hens and the sound of running water. Perhaps they had stopped to refill their water skins or even to milk the goats, although she couldn’t imagine why they had brought goats along with them.
The wagon rocked slightly and she heard the sound of a heavy footfall by the side of the wagon, so she guessed that the driver had climbed down and was coming to the rear of the wagon. Instinctively she pulled the blanket up to her neck and waited for the driver to pull the rear covering apart and step inside. She knew the driver was a man by the way the wagon rocked and the smell of his sweat, and instantly all her vulnerability and fear came rushing back.
“So you’re awake at last,” said a deep voice with an accent she didn’t recognise.
“Yes. Where is the priestess?”
“There ain’t no priestess, there’s just me.”
“Oh.” She didn’t want to think about what that meant.
“My name’s Pellecus and you’ve no need to fear me. I’m the one who’s been taking care of you for the last two weeks whilst you’ve been raving and out of your head with fever. If I was going to do anything to you, I would have done it then, but I’ve been charged with getting you here in one piece and that’s just what I’ve done. Now it’s about time you were out of this wagon and getting to know where you’re going to live for the rest of your life.”
“Are we in Delphi then?”
Pellecus laughed but without any humour. “Delphi? Is that what they told you? Well they lied. These are the Caves of Kriphis and there’s just you, me and the goats. There are mountains all around and the sea to the south. No one comes here, not ever and when I’m gone, you’ll be on your own.”
So the final betrayal. They had taken everything from her and left her here with just her gift for company. They expected her to die or at least go mad, but she wouldn’t give them that satisfaction. The goddess had sent her here for a purpose and, despite everything, she would survive and have her revenge.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
PART TWO
Times and Lives
CHAPTER SIX
Searching
The Fire Mountains
Poddorrin sighed and shook his head. Tingallent was right, he did need a way to call his three brothers to him, but apart from the initial images the Moonstone Blade had shown him, all he’d managed to conjure up so far was a long succession of battles, blood and death. He was so sick of seeing men, and occasionally women, being gutted, beheaded or dismembered, that he was having trouble eating and sleeping, and even the thought of touching the blade now made his blood run cold.
What he needed was some way to control the blade’s visions but the only artefact he had, the dragon’s tooth, had no effect on it at all. He’d been at it for three days, and understandably Tingallent was getting impatient, but he didn’t think having him standing outside the cave, pacing up and down and waiting to pounce on him the moment he ste
pped outside was helping at all. Collia was nearly as bad, sighing in frustration and turning away from him the moment he reported that his latest effort had been a failure.
Rabayan had said nothing, only smiled mockingly whilst Todden had at least tried to be helpful and had come up with a list of possible things he could try to focus the power of the blade. He’d tried most of them but so far nothing had worked. Todden’s latest suggestion was that he concentrated on just one of the men he’d seen and tried to imagine what it would be like to be that person. It seemed like a reasonable idea, but it was easier said than done.
He’d lived most of his life in the Enclave and the only time he’d held a sword was the few times he’d practiced with Todden, so he knew nothing about being a warrior. He knew even less about being part of a brotherhood of assassins and killing someone with his bare hands. As far as the third man was concerned, everything about him and his environment was so alien that he didn’t know where to begin.
Despite that, he’d decided to give it a try using the young warrior as his subject, as they had more in common than the other two. To give himself a better chance of success, he’d asked Todden, who had once been a swordsman, what it was like to be a warrior and go into battle. Unfortunately Todden wasn’t very good at describing things and in any case, the fights he’d been in were either one to one affairs or minor skirmishes involving less than a dozen men on both sides, and not set piece battles involving thousands.
Tingallent had been a bit more helpful, and had taken them all by surprise by reciting a long saga he’d learnt as a boy about a great battle in the northern lands which were now buried deep beneath the ice. It all sounded very heroic, until Rabayan had laughed and said that such battles always ended up with the victors slaying their defeated enemy’s children, raping their women and getting blind drunk. Collia had said nothing but nodded knowingly, and he wondered if she had read about such things in Kallisan’s vast libraries.
Still, the information they had given him was better than nothing, and just to make it feel more real, Todden had lent him his sword which he said no real warrior would leave far from his side. With the sword in his hand he’d re-entered the cave and had lit the small lamp so he wouldn’t be in darkness when the vision was all over. Then he propped himself up against one of the walls where he wouldn’t be able to see Tingallent pacing outside, and carefully placed the Moonstone Blade close beside him.
For several minutes he tried to imagine what it would be like charging into battle with thousands of warriors around him and then, when he had the image planted firmly in his mind, he removed the Moonstone Blade from its sheath. The vision instantly swept him away to a place where there was cheering and raucous laughter and the smell of sweat and fear. There were other smells too; that of spicy food and heavy wine and the scent that comes when a man takes a woman.
That was only right as this was a celebration, and the women who waited knew what their fate was to be. One already lay naked on the bed whilst his sword brother climbed off her, his clenched fist raised in the air in victory. Now it was his turn and the man beside him gave a word of encouragement, not that he needed it. He’d already taken one of the women and had enjoyed feeling her squirm beneath him and cry out when he forced himself into her. She had been young and attractive, but this one was older and no longer a virgin.
Not that any of them were now that he and his sword brothers had taken them in turn, but that didn’t matter. This one had been a rich man’s wife who thought she was far above everyone else, so it would add to his pleasure to know that he could take what he wanted from the rich without paying for it. He turned and grinned at those who watched and they shouted for him to be quick. So they were in a hurry for their turn which suited him just fine as he was in a hurry too. He straddled her body without bothering to sample the rest of her flesh and thrust himself inside of her.
As he thrust again she spat some words at him in her foreign tongue and he thought it must have been a curse, because for a moment he felt a wave of cold flow across him. He ignored it and thrust again, reaching his climax in a rush of pleasure and woke with a start, panting and sweating on the cave floor. His heart was pounding in his chest as if he’d run a race, and every part of him ached so that he felt as if his bones didn’t fit together properly or he’d been beaten.
For a while he just lay on the stone floor recovering and thinking about what the Moonstone Blade had shown him. The scene had been one of horror, and the brutal rape of the women had sickened him so that he felt dirty and disgusted at his body’s own reaction. However, it had been unlike other visions, as there had been no fighting or bloodshed, although the inference had been there, and the violence.
He wondered if it had been influenced by holding the sword, as this time, he’d felt a connection to the young warrior as if he’d touched something inside of him. He’d also had some control over the vision and had been able to pull back from the inevitable end without it running its course. Unfortunately he’d no idea what that would do to the warrior, but despite his loathing of what the man had done, he hoped that it hadn’t harmed him in any way.
Once he had recovered and felt strong enough, he pulled himself into a sitting position with his back against the wall. He still felt strange as if, at any moment, he could slip back into the vision again, so he covered the Moonstone Blade with the cloth it was usually wrapped in and slid it back into its sheath. The last thing he needed now was to be carried back into another scene of blood and death, as he didn’t think his heart could stand the strain.
Carefully he stood and took a few tentative steps whilst he regained his balance, and then collected the sword and the blade before stepping back through the cave’s entrance into the evening twilight. He knew they would be there waiting for him, but he couldn’t help but give an inward groan as they moved towards him. With the way he felt, he could do without answering their questions and having to recount the awful details of what he’d seen.
After his previous visions, he’d been able to tell them about the battles that had taken place and who he had seen, which Tingallent in particular soaked up as if he could imagine himself being there. This one had been different though, and had left him feeling sullied, so he’d no desire to share it with them, especially with Collia standing there. Ignoring Tingallent’s barrage of questions he walked straight past them and sat wearily by the fire, gratefully taking the pot of herb tea Todden handed to him.
He couldn’t remember bringing the herbs with them, so at some time, someone must have returned to the camp for more supplies, and for a moment he wondered why he didn’t remember that happening. It was of no importance; the time would come when he would hunt his own food and he wouldn’t need these insignificant beings to provide for him. He shook his head in confusion trying to dispel the thought which clearly wasn’t his own.
“So it didn’t work then?” questioned Tingallent tersely and then took a sudden step back in alarm as Poddorrin glared at him with gold flecked eyes that had elongated irises. When the boy blinked again they were gone, but for a moment he was certain he’d seen something very strange that definitely wasn’t human.
“No, in fact it worked or at least sort of.”
“You saw the warrior?” Collia asked in excitement. Poddorrin nodded. “So what happened?”
“What happened is unimportant, what it felt like is the interesting thing. As usual I was the warrior but I was also standing there watching him. I felt as if I could almost speak to him or reach out and touch him.”
Now that he’d put his feelings into words he realised that he’d actually been there, not as a flesh and blood person, but as some sort of spirit, only he didn’t understand how he could be in two places at the same time. He put his aching head in his hand and tried to make sense of it, whilst the others stood around him in silence waiting for him to continue. They were going to be out of luck, as he didn’t know any more than he’d already told them.
“What are you
going to do now?” asked Tingallent impatiently when it became obvious that he wasn’t going to say anything else.
“I’m going to rest.”
I don’t think you should do that,” put in Collia quickly. “Now you’ve made progress you must try again whilst you still remember what it felt like.”
Poddorrin groaned; that was the last thing he wanted.
“Yes, Collia is right,” said Tingallent enthusiastically. “Come on, let’s do it right now.”
“I’m too tired,” protested Poddorrin. He was tired but that wasn’t the reason he didn’t want to try again. There had been something about the way he had been present in the last vision that hadn’t felt right, and until he’d worked out what it was, he didn’t want to try again.
His protest was ignored as Collia took the empty pot of herb tea from his hand and Tingallent picked up the sword and the Moonstone Blade from the ground where Poddorrin had dropped them and placed them across his knees. When he failed to respond the rebel leader gave a grunt of impatience, took his hand and wrapped it around the hilt of the Moonstone Blade, pulling it free.
The ship rocked violently beneath him and with a scream of elation the first of the enemy leaped aboard with his thin, curved sword glinting in the midday sun. This wasn’t his fight, but if he didn’t do something he was going to die just the same. He dived across the deck and grabbed a sword from beneath a rowing bench and swung it in a wide arc. The sword jerked in his hand as it bit into flesh and bone and the man fell blocking the way for the others who eagerly pulled him overboard.
Now there were more men clambering onto the ship and the best he could do was sell his life dearly so that those behind him could live. From the rear someone called his name and when he glanced back he could see they were coming to his aid but they would be too late. He screamed his clan’s battle cry as he charged forward and then startled awake at a woman’s cry of shock and fear.
