When he returned for her, there was no fight left. Only a limp body that had once belonged to a young girl who’d once dared to dream.
The horse stomped a hoof, then swung around as if to leave.
That’s when she saw the raven perched on the horse’s back.
Liana’s mouth dropped open. This was all getting much too strange. Would she wake to find her escape had been only a dream, a nightmare sent to taunt her with the thought, the taste of freedom, only to have that freedom taken away as soon as she woke at daybreak? How could life be so cruel? That would be like showing candy to a child, then snatching the treat away as soon as the child reached for it.
She squashed the thought like an annoying insect. She’d stopped praying for help months ago. No matter how hard she’d prayed at first, no savior had shown up to save her from the clutches of those insatiable men, no miracle had delivered her from Grunt’s violent desires.
There were a lot of younger children in camp, ignored by the mercenaries until they were old enough to train for battle or to breed, and those youngsters had tried to convince her that better times were coming, that she only needed to hang on and have faith. Liana had tried to believe as the children believed, that Ghost Horses and White Riders would someday come and take them all to safety.
That belief, tenuous at best, died a slow death as her belly grew day by agonizing day, and Grunt’s beatings got worse . . .
Puzzled, Liana stared at the white horse serving as the raven’s new perch. Was this a Ghost Horse, then? Had the youngsters gotten it right after all?
Then she snorted. Startled, the raven flapped awkwardly off the horse’s back and up into a tree. The horse looked at her over its shoulder, its blue eyes shining with something that almost looked like humor.
Liana shook her head at her own foolishness. The horse might be white, but it was only a horse, and if the raven was a White Rider, she’d . . . well, she didn’t know what she’d do, but something . . .
The horse moved off down the path. After a moment, the raven glided down from the tree, taking up its position on the horse’s back again. Then the bird croaked and tilted its head, watching her.
Liana sighed. “All right, then. I jes’ hope ye have food waitin’ wherever yer takin’ us.” She waddled after the pair, feeling like a lumbering mule.
Luckily, they didn’t have far to go. Liana frowned as she struggled up a hill, concentrating on putting one bare foot in front of the other, dully watching dust from the dry woodland path curl up between her toes with each step. The swirling dust mingled with the scent of vanilla and pitch oozing from the fir and pine trees towering over her. Pain stabbed her ribs with each breath, wrapping around her belly.
She paused beside the pair waiting for her at the top. Her feet felt as swollen as her belly, and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. She put her hands on her back, stretching first forward, then back, trying to relieve the ache that wouldn’t go away. Her head spun and her stomach growled. Not only did she need food, she needed water. She felt like a shriveled raisin. That couldn’t be good for the baby.
The baby.
Why was she suddenly concerned about the monster growing in her belly?
Ignoring the question, she edged her way around the horse, trying to see why they’d stopped. They stood at the edge of a grassy clearing. There appeared to be some sort of cabin made of stone and rough-hewn wood nestled among the trees on the far side. It looked like someone was sitting in front of the door.
Waiting.
The raven rose into the air at the same time the horse broke into a run, racing across the clearing and coming to a stop just in front of the cabin. The raven perched on the thatched roof and looked back at her.
Liana gritted her teeth and moved forward through the knee-high grass in the meadow. The grass was soft and smelled of mint, with blades that bent under her feet, then sprang upright, leaving only a faint trace to show where she’d walked. She put her hand on the horse’s shoulder as she passed and stopped without looking at the cabin’s owner. Keeping her eyes on the ground, she chewed her lip in growing panic, trying not to grimace at the copper taste of blood.
Why didn’t the man say anything? Why didn’t he demand to know why they were here?
The ache in her back had grown into agonizing pain, and Liana wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be able to stand. “Beggin’ yer pardon. But we be needin’ a place to rest for the night, and . . .”
She’d almost said, and the horse thought maybe you’d help us, but that probably wouldn’t make a good impression, and Liana didn’t want to be turned away because the man thought she was crazy.
The man didn’t say a word.
A sudden shove sent her stumbling forward, and Liana glanced up, horrified that she’d somehow offend . . .
She froze as she recognized the Tedrel sitting against the door, a man she’d seen off and on around camp. Dried blood caked his lean, dark face and he didn’t appear to be conscious, though she could see his chest rise and fall beneath the leather vest. The stench of camp surrounded her in memories, wood smoke mingled with sweat and blood.
Terror billowed inside Liana’s chest, blocking her throat until she couldn’t breathe. This was a man she didn’t really know, yet when she looked at his face and smelled the stink rising from his body, reality seemed to morph, and she saw Grunt instead, with his leering grin and greedy, pig-eyed stare.
Hate sparked deep in her chest, then burst into full flame, no longer smothered by the coat of numbness she’d wrapped herself in for so long. With a snarl, she lunged at the man, searching first his vest and then his trews for a knife, a weapon of some sort . . .
:He is not your enemy. Reneth is not a mercenary. He’s a Herald from Valdemar.:
A chill raced down Liana’s spine. The voice hadn’t come from someone close by.
It had been inside her head.
Slowly, she turned, looking first at the raven staring down at her, then around at the horse standing close to her back. The unconscious man groaned as the horse stomped an enormous front hoof, sending vibrations thundering through the ground.
Something was going on here, something she didn’t understand. Liana sank down onto her heels and wrapped her arms around her stomach, so tired she could hardly think.
:He needs your help.:
Again the voice in her head, but this time she knew it had to be coming from the horse. He towered over her, piercing her with those startlingly blue eyes.
And there was no one else around except the unconscious man.
:Inside you’ll find supplies, among which is an emergency kit. Bring it outside, and I’ll tell you what to do.:
Liana staggered to her feet, heart fluttering in her chest like a wounded bird. She stepped around the unconscious Tedrel and pulled the latch string, letting the cabin door swing open.
Pain shot through Liana’s belly, tightening her muscles. Her breath caught in her throat as she fought to stay on her feet. She needed to rest, to get off her feet . . .
The horse—the Companion?—snorted, and she automatically moved, taking a deep breath as the pressure around her belly lessened. She’d spent the last year surviving in a slave camp. There’d been no relief in her duties just because she was with child. She’d hauled water, cooked, washed dishes, done laundry, and carried around children hardly smaller than herself. No reason she couldn’t put this Herald to bed.
She found a hunting knife inside along with several other tools, a fair supply of beans that looked to be good, flint for lighting a fire, and the emergency kit filled with herbs and salves the Companion had asked for.
Liana found herself falling into her old routine, automatically following orders, her mind gone numb and uncaring while her body did what was needed. She carried water from a well behind the cabin, lit a fire, made a poultice from some herbs in the kit, an
d tended the Herald’s wounds. As far as she could tell, his injuries weren’t all that severe. Probably just suffering from a hard bash on the head.
After she’d seen to the Herald, she’d filled the bed frame with soft grass and covered the grass with blankets that had somehow managed to stay free of mice. She’d even made a bed for herself.
And she’d done it all before the sun disappeared for the night.
Now all she had to do was get the unconscious man inside.
Liana positioned herself behind the Herald and reached down to grab his shoulders. She’d have to drag him . . .
:You’ve done your part, and done it well,: the Companion said. :Now I’ll do mine.:
She straightened with a groan and stepped aside, wondering how such a big animal thought he was going to fit through a door meant for a man.
Evidently, the Companion had a different plan. The huge white horse stood still, staring at the Herald, blue eyes so intent they glowed. The world seemed to hold its breath. Even the gnats that had been buzzing around Liana’s head grew quiet.
The Herald groaned.
The Companion stepped closer and nuzzled the man, softly at first, then more insistently. To Liana’s surprise, the Herald reached up and scratched the horse’s nose, muttering something in a language she couldn’t understand. Then the Herald opened his eyes and looked at her. Liana stood, transfixed by the emerald gaze, a gaze more intense than the Companion’s.
“Bolan says I’m supposed to thank you for taking care of me,” the Herald said in Karsite.
“’E’s the one you should be thankin’—”
A shrill cry split the air, and the raven sailed over Liana’s head so close she could feel the breeze tickle her hair as he passed. The raven cried again. A squirrel took up the alarm from somewhere high in the trees behind the cabin.
:Get inside.:
Liana helped the Herald to his feet, pulled him into the cabin, and sat him down on the bed. She turned to bolt the door, catching a glimpse of white as the Companion spun on his haunches. Beyond the white horse, a horde of mercenaries flooded into the clearing, their swords gleaming in the fading light.
Liana pressed the back of her hand against her mouth and tried not to scream, fighting against the urge to tear the door open and run for her life.
Before she’d been taken, she used to be one of the fastest runners in her village, delighting in racing around town, her red hair blowing about so freely her mother likened her to a wild flame.
A sob choked her throat. She leaned the top of her head against the door and wrapped her arms around her stomach. Her mother was dead, burned alive after her father’s throat had been slashed. She was the mother now, a girl barely old enough to be called woman.
She could run, though she wouldn’t be as swift as she used to be. While the Tedrels were distracted by the Companion, she could slip out the door and around the side of the cabin, disappear among the trees.
“It’s okay if you want to go.”
Liana’s heart skipped a beat, and her face grew hot. Could the Herald read her mind?
“Bolan can handle these thugs, and I’ll be all right now that I’ve got my head back on straight.”
Liana stared at him. “Yer still not right in the noggin, suggestin’ I leave ye here ta fight with nothing but a horse and an itty-bitty knife.”
The Herald’s laugh made her feel as though she’d said something foolish. Liana glared over her shoulder at the man sitting on the bed she’d so carefully prepared. He jerked his chin at the door. “Take a look.”
Only a fool would open the door with a battle going on outside, and she never had been a fool. Innocent, yes, but never a fool.
The Herald’s face went blank for a second, then he gave her a lopsided grin. “Go ahead and take a look.”
Liana frowned as she opened the door just enough to peer out. She blinked, trying to understand what she was seeing.
Over a dozen men surrounded the Companion near the center of the clearing. As she watched, one flew through the air as if he’d been thrown. Another went down as though he’d been struck by a falling boulder.
The legends are right, she realized. The Companion was a whirling, biting, kicking demon, head snaking out to bite as his hooves slashed through the air, catching one attacker in the chest, another in the head, then spinning impossibly fast to catch the other attackers before they could reach him with their swords.
Hope surged through her, so hot and sweet her eyes began to burn, a feeling she hadn’t felt in way too long. She turned back to the Herald, then stopped as she saw a new group of Tedrels pour into the clearing.
The hope melted away, replaced by an anger so fierce Liana felt as if she’d turned into a different person. “Ain’t fair,” she growled, glaring out the door at the newcomers. There had to be something she could do.
The Herald stood up, all traces of laughter gone from his face. He grabbed the hunting knife and headed toward her.
As if answering her anger, pain grabbed Liana in its fierce grip, doubling her over. The room spun and memories flashed through her mind—visions of a laughing child she almost didn’t recognize as herself, playing with the forest animals and never getting lost or being scared.
Understanding stabbed her mind as the pain deepened. She pictured the raven who’d led her away from the camp and sent out a wordless plea.
The image faded along with the memories, leaving her alone with the pain.
“Maybe you should sit down,” the Herald said. Liana looked down at his hand on her arm. She took a deep breath and straightened.
“I’ll be okay. I still got a month ta go.”
He gave a quick nod, his grim face pale as his Companion’s hide. “Move aside. Bolan needs me.”
Liana shifted her weight and moved away from the door. The Herald cracked it open and uttered a cry.
Screams came through the open door, sounds of terror and pain. Human sounds mingled with sounds she couldn’t quite identify. Liana tried to see around the Herald, but the man wasn’t moving. She finally reached around him and pulled the door open wider.
A cloud of black feathers, sharp beaks, and sharper claws had descended on the newcomers. Liana stared in astonishment as the birds—blackbirds, ravens and crows—chased one screaming man from the clearing, then another, in a violent dance that ended almost as abruptly as it had started.
She slipped outside before the Herald could stop her and instinctively held out her arm.
Feathers whispered in the air, and the raven landed, gently gripping her arm with bloodied claws. He tilted his head and peered at Liana with first one eye and then the other.
Liana tilted her head, mimicking his movement. “Thank ye,” she whispered. The raven bobbed his head, then took flight, circling once before flying off into the trees.
The rest of the birds followed.
Even in the growing dark, the clearing looked and smelled like a battlefield, with bodies scattered throughout the trampled grass, the scent of fresh blood lingering in the air. Bolan trotted to them, his tail raised like a proud flag. Scarlet blood striped his white coat in several places, but the Herald reported that all the Companion’s wounds were superficial.
Liana stared at the blood, memories flashing through her mind once again—gaping wounds, pools of darkened blood, the gagging stench of burning flesh . . . memories that had haunted her for almost a year. She gasped and bent over as pain burned through her belly, pressing both hands tight to her ribs. Out of the corner of her eye she could see alarm spread over the Herald’s face.
“Is it time?” he asked, his voice slightly shaky.
Liana shook her head, trying to steady her breathing and failing. It felt as though someone had filled a kirtle with coals, wrapped it around her belly, and yanked hard on the laces. Panic grabbed her throat, threatening to strangle
her.
It couldn’t be her time. Not yet. She still had a month to go. Besides, she needed a midwife to attend her. A priest to bear witness. Otherwise she would die.
The pain eased, allowing Liana to stand straight. She tried to smile. “Too much . . .”
Another pain knifed through her belly and she gasped, unable to hold back a small cry. Warmth flooded down her legs. She stared at the puddle growing on the floor, then looked up at the Herald in confusion. “I think . . .”
The world faded to a single point of pure white agony, unlike any pain she’d ever felt before, and suddenly, Liana wasn’t in the tiny cabin, she was back in her village . . .
. . . Gleaming swords streaked with scarlet . . .
. . . Her uncle sprawled in the dirt next to her father . . .
. . . Hands—her hands—coated in the blood flowing from Father’s throat . . .
Someone screamed in the distance as Liana watched the puddle surrounding her feet spread across the stone floor. Another scream grew louder and louder until she realized that she was the one screaming. Panic flared in her chest.
She was dying.
The monster that’d been growing inside her for eight months was eating her from the inside out. Liana tore at her shift with broken fingernails, trying to loosen the pressure that stole the very breath from her body.
She’d seen a girl not much older than she was die in childbirth two months ago, a girl who’d been raped and beaten until she moved around camp like a scared dog, never looking anyone in the eye, never smiling.
Liana had been raped and beaten the way that girl had been, and now she would die the way that girl had died, bloody and alone.
A hand fell on her arm, and she screamed again, shoving away from the man looming in front of her. His mouth moved, but she couldn’t hear his words, just the noise pouring from her own mouth, mingling with her fear, her horror. She tasted the blood in her mouth, smelled Death hiding close by . . .
No True Way: All-New Tales of Valdemar (Tales of Valdemar Series Book 8) Page 24
