Tristaine Rises

by Cate Culpepper

  Brenna chewed her lower lip. She hated suspense. She kept her eyes trained on the distant figure. There was no menace or distress evident in the stranger’s posture. Brenna could see white hands on the log railing, and the shoulders—slender, probably female—looked relaxed.

  J’heika, rise.

  “Uh oh,” Brenna whispered.

  Jess looked up at her curiously.

  Ride, Brenna, now! You’ve no time!

  She felt a moment of panic. It was obvious no one else was hearing this imperious command. Me, ride?

  Save the girl, or she’ll destroy herself!

  “Brenna?” Jess squinted at her, frowning.

  Brenna heard the concern in Jess’s tone, and she would have answered her, but suddenly, in one smooth motion, the figure on the bridge leaped over the railing. There was a final flick of light hair, then a small splash over the roiling din of the current.

  Jess cursed, Kyla gasped, then things happened very quickly.

  Hakan and Vicar broke into a run for the bridge.

  The voice roared, Brenna! Ride! Brenna scooted forward, grabbed the horse’s reins, and kicked him as hard as she could and still be sure she wouldn’t hurt his furry sides. Bracken wasn’t used to Brenna’s touch on his neck, but he knew the friendly feel of her legs, and he shot down the trail like a guided missile on the hoof.

  “Brenna!” Jess bellowed behind her. “Get back here!”

  Under certain circumstances, Brenna acknowledged, as she clung to Bracken’s plunging neck, certain people might argue that Jess had just given her a direct order. But she had no time to explain herself—or, rather, explain that an invisible banshee with a brogue was ordering her around—so she had to believe that Jess would just trust her and come quickly to save her butt, because Brenna had all she could do to stay on Bracken’s back and out of the river.

  Then that malted burr sounded in her mind again. Can you swim?

  Which actually made Brenna a little mad as well as terrified as she and the mustang thundered closer to the log bridge. Why does everyone, she thought, even mysterious voices, always assume that all women from the City are puny and hopeless?

  My own adonai was City-born, ye daft girl, and so was that poor bairn up there, but neither of them can swim! Can you swim?

  “I’m an athlete. Of course I can swim!” Brenna yelled.

  Don’t speak astride, in full gallop, young idjit. You’ll break yer teeth! There’s the girl, see her?

  Brenna summoned her courage and lifted her head to peer between Bracken’s large ears as they galloped past the bridge and continued downstream. The wind of their passage swept her hair into her eyes. Blinded by the sun sparking off the swirling rapids, for a terrible moment, she didn’t see her. And then she did. Her close-cropped head was bobbing above the surface of the deep water in the middle of the swift-moving river. “Yeah, she’s there!”

  Jump!

  “What?”

  Great crikey, how will we face what’s coming if you can’t follow simple orders? Now, jump!

  “Into the river?”

  Are you deaf as well as mouthy? I said jump!

  So Brenna did.

  She didn’t think; she just gathered herself on Bracken’s sturdy back, drew a deep breath, and hurled herself up and sideways over the bushes lining the steep bank of the river and smack into the water, blue as Jess’s eyes and colder than Caster’s heart.

  It closed over her head. The shock of chill punched the air out of her lungs, and for a sick instant Brenna flailed helplessly in the current, head over heels. Then instinct caught up with her, and she began to move with the force of the water rather than resist it.

  Sight the girl. Keep your eyes on her. Jesstin’s coming.

  She had no time to look over her shoulder to see Jess thundering along the side of the river on Hakan’s huge horse, but knew with certainty that is what she would see. She also realized that, at full gallop, he ran faster than the current, but the river had a lead on him and Jess, pulling both Brenna and the woman inexorably westward.

  Brenna finally sighted the drowning woman. Thank Artemis, there she is, she thought, or thank Gaia, or whatever goddess an Amazon should invoke while trying to rescue a stranger from a suicide attempt. She could see pale, thin arms flail and hear the woman’s weak gasping as she drew near her.

  Finally, Brenna snagged her heavy, waterlogged cloak.

  “Leave me alone!”

  It was a ragged cry, and Brenna ignored it. She let an eddy of water surge her against the flailing figure and wrapped one arm around her tightly from behind.

  “Shut up!” Brenna gasped. “I’m saving your life! Hold on! Help’s—” she choked on a throatful of melted glacier. “Help’s coming!”

  “Brenna!”

  Apparently if Jess was also hearing a spectral voice telling her not to talk while at full gallop, she was ignoring it, too. Brenna chanced a quick glance over her shoulder as she spun with the small woman in her arms and saw a flash of dark hair as Jess stood on Valkyrie’s back and dived over the embankment into the river. Brenna almost gave herself whiplash trying to track her fall, and her already hammering heart gave a nasty lurch until she saw Jess’s head burst through the swirling water.

  Jess’s strong arms pulled her to them in seconds, and she grabbed the woman’s trailing leg. She barked at Brenna, “You all right?”

  Brenna’s energy was fading fast, so she just nodded, and they began the arduous trek to the shallows of the riverside, swimming hard against the current. The woman lay limp and unresisting between them. Her cloak covered much of her face, but her parted lips were blue. The sight of them scared Brenna, and she kicked hard in the water to stay in place and felt for a pulse. It was there, faint, but fast and steady.

  They reached the embankment and were pulling the slight form out of the water when they heard the sound of horses. Vicar and Hakan jumped off Vic’s roan on the path above as Dana and Kyla trotted up on their own mounts, leading Bracken.

  “Dead?” Vic called, sidestepping down the bank to receive the unconscious girl from Jess’s arms.

  “No, but check her breathing,” Brenna gasped. She let herself slump to the grassy bank, suddenly and completely spent.

  Then she was suddenly and completely lying on her back, her hands on either side of her head, and Jess was kneeling over her, her eyes inches from her own.

  “Explanation,” Jess barked.

  “Let me breathe first,” Brenna got out, and Jess relented and gave her time. The tenderness in her touch as she brushed Brenna’s wet hair off her forehead belied the sternness in her voice.

  “How is she, Jess?”

  Jess raised her eyes to the path. “Vicar?”

  “The girl’s sound enough, Jesstin!” Brenna heard Vicar call from above. “She’s coming around. You two okay?”

  “Peachy,” Jess shot back, and glared down at Brenna. “Well? You ignored my direct command. You may not be pledged to the guild of warriors, lass, but no Amazon can—”

  “Unless guided by greater access to information,” Brenna panted. She squinted up against the weak sun to see her lover. “I heard another voice, Jess.”

  “Oh.” The anger drained out of Jess’s face. “Whose?”

  “Jesstin, Brenna, you’d best come!” Hakan was looking down at them, her hands on her knees. “This bairn says she knows you! She escaped from the City Prison.”

  Brenna and Jess exchanged a stunned glance, then moved as quickly up the embankment as their stiff legs would allow.

  The young woman was wrapped in a blanket, reclining in Dana’s arms as Kyla massaged her thin legs. This simple Amazon technique for treating shock was more effective than any chemical intervention. The girl’s hair was damp and stringy against her pale forehead, and her eyes were closed.

  Jess knelt beside her and lifted her hand. “My name is Jesstin, lass. You’re safe with us. No one here will hurt you. I promise.”

  The girl’s eyes fluttered open
, and she gazed at Jess. “Not you.” She shivered, hard. “I don’t know you.” The green eyes sought out Brenna’s face. “There you are.”

  Brenna’s heart stopped. “Sammy,” she whispered.

  Chapter Four

  “Hello, Samantha.” Her smile friendly and warm, Shann glanced over her shoulder at Brenna. “I believe she’s back with us, Blades.”

  Brenna tossed the cloth she’d been drying her hands with and went to the bedside. Shann made room for her, and Brenna sat carefully on the bunk’s edge, noting how Samantha’s shadowed eyes tracked her movements.

  “Hey, you. Try to stay awake.” Brenna lifted her sister’s cold hand onto her knee and took her pulse at the wrist. The beat was slower, more even, not the fast, feathery pace that had alarmed them earlier. Brenna frowned, concerned by the glassiness of Sammy’s stare. “Sam, you know me, right?”

  It took Samantha a few moments to reply. “Yes, sure, Bree.”

  Brenna found a tremulous smile when she heard the old nickname, but it faded fast. Samantha’s voice was hoarse, and she looked much older than her twenty-one years. In the eighteen months since Brenna had seen her, she had dropped a good twenty pounds. Her eyes were bracketed by lines, and her fair skin seemed stretched across the delicate bones of her face. Her complexion held an unhealthy, waxy pallor. The vibrant red-gold of Sammy’s hair, her glory in childhood, had faded to a lank brown, cut short against her neck. Brenna let her hand hover over Sammy’s flat waist, then settle on the fur covering her.

  “You’re in a safe place, Sammy.” She brushed small circles over Samantha’s stomach. “We were worried about hypothermia, but you seem to be coming around just—”

  “They took the baby. She died.”

  Brenna stilled her hand. “What?” she whispered.

  “The baby,” Samantha repeated. Her unwavering gaze was fixed on Brenna’s face. “I only saw her once. She was born in Prison.”

  “Sam.” Brenna clenched her sister’s hand.

  “And Matt’s dead, Bree.”

  “Ah, no.” Brenna hunched her shoulders beneath these blows. She didn’t know which was worse, the news of Samantha’s terrible loss, or her utter lack of expression as she reported it.

  Brenna felt a light touch on her head and looked up to meet Shann’s compassionate gaze. “Matthew was my sister’s adonai, lady,” she explained softly. “Tell me what happened, Sam.”

  “Caster happened.” Samantha closed her eyes and settled more deeply into the softness of the furs beneath her. “Water?”

  Shann’s hand rested on Samantha’s hair. “We can do better than that.” She fit a cup of steaming liquid into Brenna’s numb fingers.

  “Careful, it’s hot.” Brenna held the tea to her sister’s chapped lips and supported her neck while she sipped it. Sammy seemed to need rest after this brief exchange, and Brenna was grateful for the silence.

  The story emerged in fits and starts. Brenna had already grasped the sickening highlights. After she and Jess had escaped from the Clinic, Caster couldn’t believe Brenna hadn’t told her only blood relative about the plan.

  “I couldn’t believe it either,” Samantha said.

  She had been arrested on a conspiracy charge. Her husband, Matthew, died in a fiery car accident trying to evade Caster’s pursuing agents.

  Samantha’s baby was born in the Prison infirmary. She had held the infant only once before it was taken. Sammy was told she died days later.

  “I got to tell her that her name was Brenna,” Samantha finished. “Matt and I agreed to that as soon as we knew she was coming. We didn’t get a chance to tell you before you disappeared.”

  “Sammy.” Brenna’s throat was painfully tight. “I’m so sorry.”

  “You could have warned us.” Samantha’s tone was mild.

  “Sam, honestly, there was no time—”

  “It doesn’t matter now.” Samantha’s eyes were drifting closed again, but she forced them open, and for the first time they carried a spark of feeling. “Bree?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m glad you’re okay. I was scared for you.”

  “I love you so much, kid.”

  Samantha nodded against the pillow, her voice fading, “...love you back.”

  *

  Brenna stepped outside the cabin that served as Tristaine’s healing lodge and leaned against one of the oak posts supporting its deck. She rested her forehead on her crossed hands, the relief of tears after such long restraint as welcome as a warm bath.

  Brenna had always wept silently, a trait she shared with Jess. Even as a child, during the years she and Samantha shared a narrow cot in the County Youth Home, her grief had been voiceless. The comfort Brenna longed for then never came, but now it was here. She heard the cabin door open behind her, then felt Shann’s hand, gentle and strong on her shoulder.

  Brenna knew Shann understood that grief tended to close women’s throats, and she wouldn’t expect Brenna to talk. Shann stood beside her, her arm around her waist, letting her regal presence lend the kind of loving support mere words couldn’t hope to convey.

  After a while, Brenna was able to raise her head from her hands and draw a few hitching breaths. “She’s still sleeping?”

  “Yes, the valerian tea worked well.” Shann stroked Brenna’s hair. “Your Sammy should rest comfortably until morning. Vicar and Wai Li will watch over her during our night’s council. With care and time, Blades, she’ll recover physically.”

  Shann reached into an inner pocket of her robe and pulled out a small, plastic-wrapped package. “I found this in your blood sister’s shirt, adanin. Samantha protected it well.”

  Brenna opened the plastic and stared at the tattered notebook inside. “Shann. It’s my first journal.”

  Shann nodded. “You must have found an excellent hiding place for it.”

  “You told me to leave it behind last spring, wrapped in a tree, safe from the flood. With directions to our first camp.” Brenna brushed the back of her hand across her eyes. “And you ordered maps placed at each of our camps as we traveled, lady. Sammy never would have found us otherwise. How can I thank you for that?”

  Shann opened her arms, and Brenna went into them willingly, her head fitting neatly beneath Shann’s chin. She rested against her elder sister for a moment.

  “Sammy named her baby for me.” Brenna found herself empty of tears, which was good, or repeating that memory would have closed her throat for another hour. She filled her lungs with cold mountain air, then breathed it out and tried to focus on Shann’s voice.

  “Brenna, I must ask you to call upon all your courage now. You must face your grief head-on. We have grave work to do, and it begins tonight. I’m going to need your help.”

  “With what?”

  “Listen first. Samantha is alive.” Shann’s smile was radiant. “Brenna, your little sister lives! You haven’t even had time to digest that one lovely grace before you were hit with sorrows.”

  “You’re right, lady,” Brenna whispered. She lifted her shoulders a little as she registered her surroundings again. The sun was setting over the forested western slopes, but it wasn’t terribly cold yet. An early, full moon ghosted her way up the sky.

  “Lady...Brenna?”

  Jess was walking toward the cabin’s deck, a sight so healing to Brenna’s sore heart her knees almost buckled. Jess’s eyes were shadowed with concern as she lifted Brenna’s cold hands and warmed them in her own.

  “How do you feel, adonai?” Jess’s low brogue was tender.

  Brenna considered. “I’m tired. I’m hungry. Sore. I still have water in my left ear.” She sank into Jess’s arms and hugged her fiercely. “And Sammy’s alive, Jesstin.”

  “She is, lass. We have new family to celebrate tonight.” She met Shann’s fond gaze over Brenna’s shoulder. “Your council gathers, lady.”

  “Hm.” Shann’s eyebrow lifted. “And has Aria arrived yet?”

  “She has, Shann.” Jess grinned. “Aria and
her sixty skillets of dinner await us in the square.”

  “Well, we’ll not keep them waiting.” Shann took Jess’s arm and Brenna’s, and they started down the tree-lined path leading into the village.

  Tristaine was unusually quiet in the gathering dusk. Brenna saw other Amazons filtering through the trees in pairs and small groups, finishing the day’s work or heading home to their lodges. A few called greetings, which Jess returned with a lifted hand.

  Brenna drew in a breath of fresh air, savoring its scent. Faint tendrils of woody smoke reached her from cooking fires, blending with the spicy pine and rich loam of the surrounding forest. Those aromas evoked a feeling of home and safety for Brenna more potent than any sight could. But there was something strange about the camp’s stillness.

  She heard no laughter among the women they passed. Their voices were hushed and their greetings subdued. And there was no music. Tristaine was a clan that had always cherished song, and many Amazons carried small instruments with them. The air was usually full of soft, separate melodies. Not this night.

  “Do you hear it, Blades?” Shann asked.

  “I don’t hear much, lady. That worries me.”

  “Exactly.” Shann sighed, her gray eyes moving over the lodges that housed her Amazons. “This numb silence has lasted for days now. Brenna told me about the concerns the two of you share, Jesstin, while we sat with Samantha. Of all the signs we’re seeing, I think it’s the loss of our laughter that chills me most.”

  Brenna heard a faint grinding sound. Looking over at Jess, she saw the muscles in her jaw stand out. Shann nudged her lead warrior.

  “What troubles you, Jess?”

  Jess shook her hair out of her eyes, scanning the trees around them. “Nothing new, lady. Or nothing specific. I just don’t like enemies I can’t see.”

  “Ah.” Shann patted Brenna’s hand. “It’s especially hard on our warriors, Brenna, these vague portents. Ephemeral threats can’t be fought with steel. Strange hostilities between Amazons who are bound as adanin...a creeping malaise that weighs down our spirits.”

  “Warriors who get spit sideways off their horses,” Brenna added.