Tristaine Rises

by Cate Culpepper

  “Sweet Gaia, Vicar!” Shann ran to them, but Jess was faster. She lunged and caught the falling weight of the Amazon her cousin carried, and together they eased her onto the altar.

  “Dana, bring torches!” Jess snapped. “Lady, it’s Sirius.”

  Brenna actually needed this information. The gore covering the warrior rendered her all but unidentifiable. She moved quickly to stand at the altar across from Shann, to lend what assistance she could. She helped her unlace Sirius’s vest and stared aghast at the bloody gashes and punctures that gaped like obscene eyes on her ebony torso.

  Jess grasped Vicar’s arm. “You hurt, Vic?”

  She shook her head, then bent and rested her stained hands on her knees, her sides heaving for air. “Sirius guarded our south border tonight, Jesstin,” she gasped. “I found her crawling toward the healers’ lodge.”

  “Did she speak?”

  “No, nothing, she just...stared at me.”

  “Lady, should I bring your satchel?” Kyla’s voice was strained.

  The queen’s hands moved swiftly over her fallen warrior, measuring her pulse at the neck, lifting an unresisting eyelid with great gentleness. Shann bent and smelled Sirius’s faint breath, then straightened and met Brenna’s stricken gaze.

  Brenna had realized within seconds that even heroic efforts couldn’t save this woman, and Shann had doubtless known it at first sight. A sick desolation filled her eyes. Kyla made a choked sound, and Dana’s arm rose instinctively to encircle her shoulders.

  “Assemble the guild, Vicar, battle ready.” Jess’s tone was low and firm. “I want a squad to guard our lady. And a full recon of the mesa, now.”

  “Aye, Jesstin.”

  Brenna’s heart gave a nasty lurch, and she whirled. “Jess? Sammy...”

  “My adonai watches over the girl, Brenna, and she’s well armed.” Vic met Jess’s sharp look and nodded. “We’ll set a squad at the healing lodge as well.” Vic spun and ran out of the square.

  “Black-hearted, bile-swilling scrotes who did this...” Sarah’s voice cracked.

  Aria was pale as chalk. “There’s nothing we can do, Shanendra?”

  Shann didn’t answer. The anguish faded from her eyes, and she looked down at the still face with quiet compassion. Raising one hand, she rested it at the base of Sirius’s throat. Shann whispered an invocation, which Brenna recognized as the opening of one of the most sacred of Amazon traditions, the granting of the Queen’s Blessing to a dying warrior.

  Sirius had been mercifully unconscious until now, but at Shann’s touch, her eyes opened slowly. Brenna tensed, but saw no indication of pain in Sirius’s slack expression.

  “Is she hurting, Bren?” Kyla whispered. She seemed oblivious to Dana’s comforting arm.

  “No, little sister.” Brenna covered Kyla’s hand with her own. “She’s leaving us, honey, and almost gone. She’s not suffering.”

  “Jesstin.” Dana swallowed visibly. “Should I join the recon—?”

  “Quiet, adanin.” Jess’s tone was oddly gentle. “Stay. You should see this.”

  Shann looked into Sirius’s eyes, and her lips lifted slightly in a smile. “Sirius, daughter of Shenoka, warrior of Tristaine,” she said softly. “You close your eyes in the embrace of a clan that will cherish your memory. Tales of your courage will be told around our storyfires for generations. You gave your life protecting your sisters, and an Amazon can win no higher honor. You have the heartfelt gratitude of your queen, dear one.”

  Shann’s slender fingers brushed the blood-soaked hair off Sirius’s ashy brow, then carefully adjusted her head. Her dying eyes were clouding, but they focused briefly on a sight high above them.

  Without looking, Brenna knew Shann had shifted Sirius’s gaze so that the last view she had of the world would be the starfield of Tristaine’s Seven Sisters. Brenna’s vision trebled as her eyes brimmed with tears.

  Sirius released one more shallow breath and was gone.

  A soundless sigh passed through the women around the altar. Shann bowed her head and whispered a private prayer of farewell.

  Brenna felt a warm stickiness on the side of her hand, and she blinked to clear her vision. The brutalized warrior had shed most of her blood in the forest, but the surface of the altar was still streaked with it. She saw, with a detached numbness, that several of the glyphs carved into the stone had filled with the sluggish red fluid.

  J’heika, rise.

  Brenna froze. Her gaze fastened on the simple target glyph, the circles within a circle just visible beside the dead woman’s knee.

  The blood filling it was starting to boil.

  “Shann,” Brenna whispered.

  Small red bubbles popped viciously in the roiling circles, and a thin, wisping tendril of steam curled from the center of the target. An acrid odor assaulted Brenna’s nostrils, impossibly sharp given the fragile thread of vapor that carried it.

  “This was a blood sacrifice,” Brenna murmured.

  Jess’s voice reached her only faintly. “What do you mean, Bren?”

  “Drawing first blood gives her ingress. It opens the portal between our worlds.”

  “Brenna!” Jess’s tone was sharp now. “Look at me.”

  Brenna’s mouth filled abruptly with a sour sulfur taste, and she stepped back in pure reaction.

  Back and off the edge of the planet. Brenna slid bonelessly to the ground, Shann’s cry reaching her dimly before all light vanished.

  *

  She materialized seconds later in a nightmare of static.

  Brenna opened her eyes on the pitched plane of another world glimpsed rarely, and only imperfectly, in her dreams. She was on her knees, grasping for purchase on a surface that wasn’t grass or rock or anything else identifiable.

  She sucked in a desperate breath, relieved but astonished to find oxygen was available on this harrowing plane. “Jesstin!” Brenna screamed. Her cry evaporated before reaching her own ears, lost in the erratic, pervasive buzzing filling the air.

  All Brenna could see was a murky gray light, pulsing and surging all around her. This world seemed formless, with only vague black spikes far in the distance providing any solid contrast. But as her panic-filled eyes began to adjust and she forced herself to breathe slowly, Brenna saw a figure forming several feet in front of her.

  It was a large human shape, its gender impossible to determine, as it was surrounded by a bristling nimbus of light that concealed its features. It took a step toward her, and Brenna skittered backward like a crab, on her hands and heels. She was picturing the hideous wounds inflicted on Sirius’s body. But the looming figure stopped and lowered itself slowly to one knee before her. There was no menace or threat in its careful movements.

  Brenna realized the ugly static buzzing in the air was fading a little. She made herself hold still as the glowing form extended an arm toward her. A rough hand materialized, still shrouded in light, but Brenna could see some details: long, strong fingers, a crude silver ring.

  The hand clutched a small, leafy plant with gold berries that was instantly familiar. Brenna had last seen its kind in the abandoned cemetery beyond the mesa, adorning the graves of long-dead Amazon warriors. The connection was not a reassuring one.

  Her eyes widened as a gold liquid welled from the spiked leaves of the plant, then overflowed it and spilled in a gentle stream to the ground. Abruptly, Brenna’s throat seemed coated with dust, so deep was her thirst.

  *

  Just as abruptly, her teeth clacked together as her butt hit the ground with jarring force.

  Brenna’s senses were assaulted at once with the chill night air of the village square and the alarmed shouts of the Amazons swarming around her. Regardless of her own perceptions, her sojourn to that strange spectral world had apparently lasted only long enough for her falling body to hit the sparse grass.

  “Brenna!” Kyla’s hands gripped her shoulders, and she blinked hard to focus on the frightened girl’s face.

  “I’m here,
Ky,” she gasped.

  Instantly she felt a supporting warmth leave her back as Jess rose from behind Brenna and bolted toward the altar.

  The night was shrill with the howling of the clan’s dogs and the bugling of horses from the stables. The tumult disoriented Brenna, and it took her a moment to register the Amazons clustered at one end of the hulking black stone.

  “Bren, you have to come.” Kyla was obviously struggling for calm. She took Brenna’s hands and hauled her bodily to her feet. “Hurry, adanin.”

  Brenna saw the woman splayed on the ground at the center of the group, and her heart trip-hammered in her breast as she raced toward her.

  Shann lay motionless on her back, her eyes half-open, gazing sightlessly up at the Seven Sisters who rode high and unreachable over the heads of her embattled clan.

  Chapter Five

  Vitality surged at last through its withered limbs, and its tainted blood ignited with a stirring of ancient power. It had been sapping the energies of Tristaine’s queen since she first entered the shadow cast by this mesa. Every spark of strength it drained from their pitiful ruler added to its own growing reserves.

  Their queen had fallen so easily. This last tribe would prove little challenge to the divine destiny of an immortal sovereign. With the three-night reign of the Thesmophorian moon, the blood of these Amazons would soak this ground, and it would live again.

  She who ruled the mesa centuries ago took form within the depths of the ebony altar. Not human form—that couldn’t happen until the third Amazon tribe fell to its bloody will.

  But the essence of Woman filled it again and restored its betrayed gender. The Feminine force, pure and strong and good in Tristaine’s queen, became a potent malevolence in an immortal sorceress held captive by death for hundreds of years.

  She had leeched enough of the queen’s vitality for now. She wanted the old woman alive at the rising of the harvest moon. Her bloody death would be delectable, a death to savor through the thousand years of her reign.

  Her imprisonment had ended. She was Botesh, and she would rule again.

  *

  No evident blood loss. Pulse thready. Febrile. Respiration shallow but even.

  With burning eyes, Brenna scanned her initial entry, made hours ago, after her first thorough examination of the unconscious queen. Her gaze drifted over the rough-hewn log wall of the healing lodge to its window, and she saw no hint yet of approaching dawn. Scrubbing her tousled hair off her forehead, she bent over her journal again.

  Shann’s still unresponsive. And I can find no medical reason in the world for this unbroken sleep.

  Jess has posted sentries around the perimeter of the village. Our warriors saw no sign of intrusion, no tracks left by enemies. Sirius wasn’t mauled by any animal we’ve seen in these hills, but we still don’t know what killed her. Brenna closed her eyes for a moment. I’m terrified.

  She closed her journal and rose from the wooden stool, feeling the endless day in her aching knees and stiff neck. She glanced down at the pallet where Shann lay, her elegant hands still on the warm blankets covering her. Her lips were parted with her quick breath, and dark circles bracketed her closed eyes.

  Brenna drew aside the clicking strings of beads that curtained the window. The torches posted outside the lodge cast a reddish light on the many Amazons standing vigil around it, awaiting news of their queen.

  She felt the comfort of Jess’s presence behind her first, then the relief of her strong hands targeting perfectly the tight muscles in her neck. Brenna let her head drop forward, allowing those talented thumbs to probe deeply, releasing her tension in warm waves.

  “You have to rest, Bren.”

  “Soon,” Brenna murmured, soaking in the familiar texture of those callused hands on her skin.

  “You’ve done all anyone can for our lady.” Jess’s strong fingers explored the curves of her shoulders and upper back. “You’ll do Shann no good by wearing yourself out, lass.”

  Brenna leaned back against her, folding Jess’s arms over her breasts. “I wish she could tell me what to do, Jesstin.”

  “You’re a fine healer, adonai. Shann knows that.” Jess rested her chin on top of Brenna’s head, both of them gazing out the beaded window into the night. “But more than illness afflicts our lady. We’ll need your gifts as a seer as much as your skills in healing to save her.”

  “No pressure, of course.” Brenna meant to speak lightly, but she felt weak tears filling her eyes again. For the third time that day. Incredible. She should start keeping track in her journal of the number of times she either cried or threw up in service to her clan. She wanted the final tallies inscribed on her gravestone.

  “Brenna.” The voice was muted and slightly hoarse.

  Jess released her, and Brenna moved quietly across the large room to the pallet where Samantha lay. She sat on its edge and looked carefully at her sister’s pale face. “Hey, Sammy. It’s awful late. Why are you awake?”

  Samantha’s eyes were on the still figure on the other bed, and a line appeared between her brows. “Is she dying? Your friend.”

  “No.” Brenna shivered. “I don’t really know. I’m not sure what’s wrong with her.”

  “You’ll figure it out.” Sammy turned her remote gaze on Brenna. “You were the best medic in the Clinic. Maybe in the whole City.”

  This simple declaration of faith almost brought on the tears again. Brenna laid her fingers on Sammy’s throat to measure her pulse. The candlelight illuminated a thin scar that etched the delicate skin of her neck, and Brenna caught her breath. “What did this, Sam?”

  “I was kept on a leash in Prison.” She delivered this information with the same dispassionate voice that asked about Shann. Brenna stared at her in shock, and Sammy turned her face from her sister’s touch—not angrily or abruptly, but a subtle distancing. “And that’s Jesstin? The one who pulled us out of the river?”

  Jess stepped out of the shadows, her hands crossed on her belt. “Aye, Samantha, I’m Jess.”

  Brenna wrapped a cup of cool water in Samantha’s hand to ease her throat, and she sipped it as she regarded Jess. “They still talk about you in the City. How you and Brenna broke out of the Clinic together.”

  Jess nodded.

  “You two are married now, Brenna said.”

  “Your blood sister and I are adonai, lass.” Jess’s tone was kind, but she studied Sammy as carefully as Sammy watched her. “It’s our word for lifemate.”

  “Adonai.” Samantha nodded and gazed at Brenna silently for a moment. “Do the Amazons have a word for widow?”

  Brenna swallowed and met Jess’s gaze.

  “Dolore,” Jess said quietly.

  Samantha’s lips moved silently as she repeated the word, and her eyes closed.

  “You should get some sleep.” Brenna took the cup and rose from the side of the pallet, her movements gentle, not wanting to startle her. “I’ll be right over there if you need anything.”

  “Bree?” Sammy’s cold fingers on Brenna’s wrist stopped her. “Your friend was kind to me earlier. I hope she’ll be okay.”

  “Me too.” Brenna hesitated, then bent and rested her lips briefly on her sister’s forehead, a lifetime of loving her overriding any fear of rejection. Brenna patted Jess’s arm absently on her way back to Shann, then began checking her vital signs again. Respiration, pulse, still slightly feverish...

  Jess waited patiently until Brenna opened her journal to re-record the same readings. Then she unlatched the door of the lodge and walked out onto the wooden porch. The Amazons standing outside in the predawn chill stirred and turned toward Jess, and she lifted a hand in reassurance. “Our queen rests comfortably, adanin. There’s no change.” Jess’s voice was rough with fatigue. Her eyes searched the crowd. “Aria?”

  Aria emerged into the torchlight in a whirl of colorful silk. “Jesstin?”

  “Join us, please.” Jess motioned Aria into the lodge before her, then secured the door again. She took
Aria’s elbow and escorted her to Shann’s pallet, and Brenna blinked up at them, puzzled.

  “You’ve passed a harrowing night as well, Aria.” Jess studied her friend’s face. “Do you have the energy for a few hours’ watch?”

  Aria’s sculpted eyebrows arched, and she rested a hand on a curvaceous hip. “I’m sure my rickety old crone bones can withstand such strenuous labor, lamb chop, yes.”

  “Good.” Jess held her hand out to Brenna. “This one’s sleeping now.”

  “Jess,” Brenna protested. “I just want to see if—”

  “Aria will guard our lady’s sleep, Brenna, and your sister’s.” Jess lifted Brenna to her feet. “I’ll watch over yours.”

  “But—”

  “Call us if they stir, adanin.” Jess drew Brenna to the empty pallet Shann often slept on when an injured Amazon needed her care.

  Brenna had more objections half-formed in her mind as Jess eased her down onto the cool bed, but the words faded before they passed her lips. Jess climbed carefully on the pallet behind her and wrapped her long arms around Brenna’s waist. Spooning was all they had room for, and everything they needed most.

  Brenna yawned hugely. “Ah int ucker ace is ime.”

  Jess smiled into her hair. “Once again?”

  “Aria didn’t suck your face this time.” Brenna nestled back into the warmth of the powerful body enfolding hers. “Did you two have a fight?”

  “She ravished me on the porch.” Jess’s breath tickled her ear. “I’ll be bearin’ her bairn come spring.”

  Brenna snickered, but then remembered their most urgent need. “Jess. We need to find the plant that glowing giant showed me—”

  “We’ll not find it without sunlight, querida.” Jess kissed the top of Brenna’s head. “Tomorrow will be trial enough, but it’s hours away. Rest with me a while.”

  Brenna felt her body relax into a boneless mass, and her eyes drifted closed.

  Their queen on the brink of coma. Tristaine under siege by some demon force. Her adored little sister destroyed by grief. And in these arms, against all sane expectation, Brenna found safety and peace.