Tristaine Rises

by Cate Culpepper

  “Jesstin.”

  “Hm.”

  “I cherish you,” Brenna whispered.

  Jess went still behind her. Then she cradled the side of Brenna’s face The light of Selene’s ghostly moon began to fade as they drifted to sleep beneath the protective watch of their sisters.

  *

  Bracken at a quick trot was smoother and easier on Brenna’s spine than most horses at a leisurely lope. She knew Jess had taken some ribbing three years ago when she picked the scruffy little foal out of Tristaine’s herd as her personal mount. Only Hakan, the clan’s stablemaster, had grinned at Jess in approval. She knew mountain mustangs had unquenchable heart and, more often than not, could run brawnier stallions into the ground.

  Jess slowed Bracken to a walk as they wound through the thinning trees at the base of the mesa, and Brenna tried to curb her impatience. She tightened her arms around Jess’s waist and scanned the ground carefully, searching for the gold berries and silver leaves of the plant from her vision.

  Shann had been no better or worse after the sun rose that morning. But the longer her strange sleep lasted, the greater the chance she would never wake. Brenna held fast to the hope that the odd shrub she’d been shown could save their queen.

  “You know, butch of mine,” Brenna knocked politely on Jess’s back, “we could cover a lot more territory if you’d let me ride my own horse. Hakan could pick me out a nice, gentle—”

  “Chipmunk,” Jess finished. “You’ll ride nothing larger until the clan’s safe again, Bren.”

  Brenna squeaked in outrage. “Hey, you saw me ride yester-day! Bracken and I booked, and I stuck to his back like a—”

  “Aye, I saw you ride, and that’s why you’ll be astride chipmunks.” Jess checked the position of the sun and turned slightly east. “Until I know you won’t bolt off on a wild hair again, with a great flailin’ of elbows and buttocks—”

  “Yahhh.” Brenna curved her hands into claws and dragged them down Jess’s chest in mock fury. “You better be nicer to me if you want any buttocks at all in your immediate future. And Jess...” She leaned out slightly, to see her lover’s face. “You don’t get to decide when I’m ready for a new challenge. I’m the only one who can know that. Right?”

  Jess’s expression softened. “Aye, Bren. You’re right. I thank you for letting me butch you on this, just for now.”

  Brenna nodded, content, and went back to scanning the greenery around them. Still no sign of their mystery plant.

  “As for covering ground, we have our two sisters to broaden our search.” Jess shaded her eyes to see the distant figures of Kyla and Dana, their horses moving in tandem toward the deeper forest. “Ears.”

  Grateful for the warning, Brenna quickly covered her ears before Jess unleashed a piercing whistle through two fingers. The far-off figures stopped, and Dana lifted one arm to indicate their direction. Kyla reached out and adjusted her arm slightly, and Jess grinned and signaled agreement.

  “They seem to be spending a lot of time together, those two,” Brenna observed as Jess nudged Bracken into a lope to join their friends.

  “Mostly Dana’s doing, I think. Seeing Sirius die was hard on Ky. Her heart’s not ready to risk much right now.”

  “And she’ll choose her time to face new challenges.” Brenna rested her cheek against Jess’s warm back. “Some macha butch taught me that.”

  The terrain they covered couldn’t have changed much since the previous day, but as they neared the secluded graveyard, Brenna found the forest around them increasingly ominous. The sun-dappled trees seemed to watch their passage, as if to ensure these intruders entered hallowed ground with a proper respect.

  In the distance, Brenna glimpsed the low rock wall that encircled the cemetery and was surprised by a faint superstitious dread. She was a healer. She had intimate knowledge of the messy workings of the human body and had never held illusions about death. But since she had found Tristaine, a series of quite vivid visions had been forced on Brenna, and the last of her City-trained skepticism was crumbling. She would never see death and the realms that lay beyond it in simplistic terms again.

  When they reached the wall, Jess extended her left arm, and Brenna grasped it and slid to the ground. Jess lifted one long leg over her horse’s neck and landed lightly beside her. She took Brenna’s hand as they stepped over the stone enclosure, and neither felt inclined to let go.

  Brenna let out a long breath, seeing the gold-berried plant everywhere now, dotting grave after grave in the barren yard. “These things had to be transplanted here, Jess. They can’t be native to these hills, or we’d see them everywhere.”

  “The Amazons who settled the mesa may have cultivated this strain in their gardens.” Jess knelt and fingered the silver-veined leaves of one small sprig. “For this one purpose, to guard the sleep of their warriors. They seem to flourish without tending.” She stood and brushed the sandy soil from her hands.

  They walked slowly among the canted gravestones. “The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out,” Brenna murmured.

  “Sorry?” Jess bent closer.

  “Oh, one of the charming chants that went around the County Home where Sam and I grew up.” Brenna rubbed Jess’s muscled forearm with her free hand. “No one really knew what it meant. Bodies aren’t allowed to decay in the City. There aren’t any cemeteries there anymore.”

  “No? How do they honor their dead in the City?”

  “They dispose of them efficiently. Same way they handle their living.”

  Jess waited.

  “She blames me, Jess.”

  “Ah, lass.” She wound an arm around Brenna’s shoulders. “Your Sammy’s too full of pain to see things clearly right now.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.” Brenna folded her arms, hugging herself. “She was making it, Jesstin. Even in that sterile hell down there, Sammy carved out some happiness. She had a loving husband, a job. She was starting a family. I wrecked all that. Caster never would have targeted her if she hadn’t hated me so—”

  “Brenna.” Jess stopped her and took her shoulders gently. “Caster destroyed your sister’s happiness. Just as her kind has brutalized and laid waste to thousands of innocent lives for generations in the City. Caster deserves all your rage, adonai, and all the blame. Sammy will know that someday.”

  Brenna studied Jess’s face, wanting to believe her. Jess tipped her chin with one finger, then lowered her head to kiss her with a light, searching warmth. The city of the dead around them faded for a moment. As the love between them deepened, their physical intimacy had developed its own diverse language. This feathered brushing of lips offered comfort and solace, and Brenna drank it gratefully.

  Then she almost bit Jess’s tongue as a piercing whistle split the air.

  Jess whipped around and targeted its source, then grasped Brenna’s hand and took off on a run. Sorry, sorry, sorry, Brenna apologized silently, every time they leaped over a headstone, her heart hammering in her chest. They reached the far end of the stone wall and jumped it, then crashed through a haze of tangled brush.

  “Dana!” Jess barked.

  “We’re here, Jesstin.”

  Brenna heard no great alarm in Dana’s voice, and a moment later Jess batted some hanging branches aside and they saw her. She looked whole enough, as did Kyla, and Brenna’s relief was immediately tinged with annoyance. Just like the time Sammy had scared her when they were kids by running too close to a busy street, she wanted to hug her sisters, then slap them silly for frightening her like that.

  Jess apparently felt some of the same mixed maternal urge. She set her hands on her hips and glared at Dana, panting. “A fine, clear signal, adanin, but that particular whistle warns of attack. If there’s no danger—”

  “I figured you’d want to see this pretty quick.” Dana hadn’t turned to look at them, and neither had Kyla. Brenna followed their gaze and went still.

  Several yards away, the brush had been scraped clean in a rough oval.
In the center of the hard-packed earth stood a sculpture, cut in one piece from a large block of black granite. It was a life-sized depiction of two women—one kneeling, the other draped full-length across her lap.

  “Sweet Lady,” Jess whispered, and Brenna reached for her hand again.

  Whoever sculpted this piece had been no master. There was little detail hewn into the rock, and its planes were rough and unfinished. But somehow that starkness made the impact of the image all the more powerful.

  There was enough nuance to see that the kneeling figure was a very old woman, her face lined with both age and sorrow. The folds of her robes draped over the naked body cradled in her lap, a younger woman of obvious strength, and obviously lifeless. Her hand lay loose around the hilt of a crude sword.

  It was a classic image, emblematic of the pietas created by any number of civilizations. The archetype of the female mourning her fallen.

  The almost featureless face of the old woman somehow conveyed the depths of her grief as she gazed down at the slain warrior. Her gnarled hand rested at the base of the dead woman’s throat. The one clear detail on the back of the elder’s hand was the simple glyph that also graced Shann’s shoulder—the mark of an Amazon queen.

  An image rose in Brenna’s mind—the sketch she’d made in her journal of Shann cradling a dying child.

  Jess lowered herself to one knee as she stared at the roughcast figures, and her eyes glittered with tears.

  Dana looked from her commander to Brenna uneasily, as if she wanted to offer comfort.

  Kyla walked quietly to Jess, knelt beside her, and rested her head against her shoulder.

  Brenna’s throat ached, and she had to look away from this primitive but eloquent rendering of the Queen’s Blessing. Only then did she register what should have been immediately evident—the ground around the sculpture was thickly carpeted with the gold-berried plants.

  “Why did they put this...shrine outside of the cemetery?” Dana’s tone was subdued. “We never would have seen it if we hadn’t come up this way.”

  Brenna cupped her elbows in her hands, her eyes drawn irresistibly to the stone figure of the warrior. Such a powerful body, slack and empty in death. Its proportions were so similar to Jess’s tall frame that a chill chased up her back.

  “We’d best get what we came for, Bren.” Jess’s head rested in Kyla’s auburn curls.

  Brenna stepped forward carefully, laying a hand on Jess’s shoulder as she passed. She kept her gaze on the largest of the plants, growing lush at the center of the base of the granite sculpture. Its gold berries were glossy in the midst of the silver-veined leaves.

  Not looking at the stone faces in front of her, Brenna knelt to grasp the stem. It was wiry and full in her fingers, and its roots went deep. She pulled gently, smoothly, and at last felt the thready tearing of the soil surrendering its hold.

  “J’heika...”

  Brenna started, and her eyes flew to the ancient rock face of the Amazon queen. She rose on unsteady legs, the plant clenched in one hand. “No,” she whispered.

  The title had been spoken softly, with great tenderness. And with heartrending regret. The voice was unmistakable.

  “J’heika, rise,” Shann whispered from the ancient stone lips. “Forgive me, Brenna.”

  Brenna felt the blood drain from her face. She breathed deeply until the dizziness passed and she could turn and face her sisters.

  “We need to go home,” she said quietly.

  Chapter Six

  Brenna saw Vicar’s tall roan loping toward them as they turned onto the path leading up to the mesa. Vic raised a hand and called something she couldn’t hear, but relief was already flooding through Brenna. Vic was grinning like a bandit.

  “Our lady’s awake, Jesstin!” Vicar spun her horse neatly as she reached them, skittering gravel and dust. “Weak as a pup, but all her senses intact. She’s asking for our seer, here.”

  “Good news, cousin.” Jess tapped a knee to Bracken’s side, and he lunged up the rocky trail, followed closely by the rest of their party.

  They cantered minutes later into the village square, which was milling with women talking in excited groups. Several ran to greet them, and Brenna saw her relief mirrored in their upturned faces.

  The news of Shann’s collapse had shaken the clan badly. Tristaine had never been an idle tribe, and this sunny day should have found the Amazons busy with the work of their seven guilds. The warriors were on duty guarding the mesa, but no cloth was being spun, no food preserved, or horses trained. The routine of daily life had come to a halt until the fate of their queen was known.

  When they reached the healing lodge, Jess slithered from Bracken’s back and lifted Brenna down. Several women were clustered around the door to the cabin, but they cleared a respectful path, hands reaching out to touch them.

  “She’s back with us, Jesstin!”

  “Aye, Keyen.”

  “Our lives for her, Jess.”

  “Always.” Jess opened the door and ushered Brenna, Kyla, and Dana into the lodge. “Give us a moment with our lady, adanin.”

  Brenna waited for her eyes to adjust to the lamplit dimness of the cabin. Kyla had no such patience. She was on her way to the raised pallet where Shann lay before Jess had the door latched.

  Kyla sat carefully on the edge of the bed and rested her head on Shann’s breast with a tired sigh. The queen opened her eyes and focused on the women watching her, and the corner of her mouth lifted. She patted Kyla’s shoulder with maternal affection.

  Aria rose from her chair in the corner and shocked Dana to speechlessness with a smacking kiss of greeting. “I believe you’ll find Shanendra much improved, my sweet sistren. Brenna, dearest, I’ll go check on young Samantha, who lunches with Vicar’s adonai. Lovely woman, Wai Li, though her gravies just miss proper texture.”

  “Our thanks, Aria.” Jess gave Aria’s buttock a friendly pat before she swept out of the cabin, then she grinned at Brenna. Shann’s revival had lifted the burden on her broad shoulders enough to allow such teasing.

  “I’m sorry I worried you, little Ky.” Shann’s voice was raspy, and Dana all but trotted to pour her water from the jug by her pallet.

  “Worried me,” Kyla murmured. “You about stopped my damn heart, lady. I swear I’m going to have you impeached or impounded or dethroned or something, if you ever do this to us again.”

  “Tell me how you feel, Shann.” Brenna shrugged off the canvas satchel she carried and sat at her other side. She took Shann’s wrist to measure her pulse. Shann’s color was better than this morning, and she seemed fully alert. Brenna was still faintly nauseous with relief. She wondered if throwing up on Tristaine’s queen could be counted on her final sacrifice-for-the-clan tally.

  “I feel like that accursed altar dropped on my head.” Shann frowned. “Just how much of Aria’s elderberry wine did I swill at last night’s council?”

  Jess studied her with folded arms. “What do you remember, lady?”

  “I remember blessing Sirius.” Shann accepted the mug of water from Dana and drank deeply. “I remember seeing Brenna’s eyes roll back in her head. Then nothing.”

  “Do you have pain anywhere?” Brenna moved a lantern closer to illuminate her features.

  “Nothing worth mentioning, Blades, just a bit stiff.” Shann lifted a hand to forestall the next question. “Can we move past my humiliating royal infirmity for the moment, please, and address the welfare of our clan? Jesstin, your report.”

  “There’ve been no other incidents, Shann. We scouted the mesa thoroughly and found nothing. I’ve doubled the watch at all sectors, and our guild remains on full alert.”

  Shann nodded. “Kyla, your take on our adanin?”

  Kyla sat up slowly, and Brenna could see the lines of strain around her eyes. “We’re all mourning Sirius, lady. Rumors are everywhere. Some worry Caster survived the flood, and she’s after us again. Or there’s some random tribe of cutthroats out to get us. Others think Tr
istaine is still under that stupid bloody curse I’ve never believed in. Our enemy is invisible, and our sisters are scared.”

  “Rational enough.” Shann gently tapped Brenna’s hand off her forehead. “I’m not feverish, adanin. Sweet Artemis, Jesstin, what must she be like when you’re ill?”

  “She hovers like a buzzard, lady.”

  Brenna glared at Jess, who winked at her.

  “Dana?” With an effort, Shann sat up straighter against the folded furs cushioning her back. “Your thoughts on our council, please.”

  Dana had retreated respectfully to one corner, and now her eyebrows shot up. She looked at Jess and stepped closer to Shann’s bed. “Well, I don’t know anything about Amazon curses. But it seems to me this place is haunted. I mean, we’ve got blood-steam rising out of that spooky-as-shit altar out there. And Brenna getting possessed by all these voices. I don’t think we should waste any time hunting down a human enemy. Whatever conked you guys out last night sure wasn’t that. Human.” Dana swallowed and glanced at Jess again.

  “A fair analysis, adanin. Thank you.” Shann smiled at Dana and cleared her throat. “All right. Our first priority is to bring our women together. I want a full clan assembly early this evening. Our sisters have the right to know what little we’ve learned so far.”

  “Shann. Are you sure you’re up to a big gathering?” Brenna was prepared to brave any further reference to hovering buzzards. “Come on. You were all but comatose for a good twelve hours.”

  “I know, Bren.” Shann sighed. “And I still feel bloody wiped, I admit it. But, yes, I do have the strength for this because it needs doing. Now, adanin, we have hours before dusk, which I will spend obediently resting. Jesstin will want to run a circuit of the mesa and check in with her warriors.”

  “Aye, Shann.”

  “Dana, spread the word of tonight’s meeting, please. And Kyla, love, please disperse that mob of hovering buzzards from the front porch. Tell our sisters their queen expects to see them busy and productive until sunset, or heads will most surely fly.”