01 - The Tainted Sword

by D. J. Heinrich - (ebook by Undead)

  Johauna dug out a large ring of snow from her horse’s foot and called out, “Carsig’s hobbled by vines, lots of them. There must be something growing underne—ohhh!” Jo’s cry cut through the air, and Flinn saw dark, shiny green vines snake up around her legs and arms. He could hear the sudden rustle of greenery moving beneath the blanket of snow, and he saw the top of the snow quiver. I applaud your defenses, Karleah Kunzay, Flinn thought.

  “Jo!” he shouted. “Are you all right?” He turned sideways in the saddle and prepared to leap toward her.

  “Y-yes,” Jo said, tugging on the vines. “I’m not hurt, but I sure can’t move. How about you, Dayin?”

  The boy stood beside his pony. Dayin struggled to lift his left foot and then his right, but could not. He shook his head and answered, “I’m fine, but I can’t move, either.”

  Braddoc called out, “Can you reach your knife and cut the weeds, Johauna?”

  “Cut my pets and I’ll cut you off at your knees,” a querulous voice shouted from the spruces behind them. Flinn and the others whirled in that direction, but they could see nothing in the dense underbrush.

  “Come out and show yourself!” Flinn challenged.

  “And why should I?”

  Flinn was startled. The second call had come from immediately behind him, in a grouping of large stones.

  “I only want to speak to you. We wish you no harm—” Flinn began.

  “Spare me the details. Everyone who goes through my valley wishes me no harm. But they always do something, like cut my vines.” This time the voice came from behind Braddoc.

  “We were only going to cut the vines because they trapped us,” Flinn said crossly. “If you will make the vines release us, we’ll harm nothing in your valley, Karleah Kunzay.”

  “Humph,” said the voice again, only this time it came from a body. The wizardess stood halfway between Flinn and Johauna.

  Karleah Kunzay looked exactly as Flinn had remembered her: a wizened old woman, so ancient her body was nothing more than dry leather over bones. She had bowed shoulders, lank gray hair, and an ashen face creased with myriad wrinkles. She wore gray sackcloth ornamented with gray basswood twigs. Thin green vines held the dress together. A faint, shimmering aura surrounded her, blurring the outline of her body. She carried a rough wooden staff, which she now leaned against for support.

  “Humph,” the ancient woman said again. “So you know my name, which is more than I can say for most, but knowing my name doesn’t mean you’ll not attack my pets. Without assurances, why should I let you go?”

  Flinn sighed, realizing she had forgotten their acquaintance. “Because I’m—”

  “Because it’s vail vine,” Dayin interjected suddenly, and all eyes turned to him, “and it won’t hurt us if we give it a few coins to buy passage over it.” The boy smiled sweetly.

  The old woman’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline, and she harrumphed a third time. She pushed her staff before her, and the blanket of snow parted just enough for her to pass through it; it closed immediately after her. She walked stiffly over to Dayin. She was very short, standing only slightly taller than the boy before her. She reached out with a bony finger and jabbed Dayin in the chest.

  “I know you,” she said crisply. “Follow me.” The ancient wizardess tapped the boy’s feet and turned around. She began walking back the way she had come, Dayin studiously following her.

  Next to Flinn the woman stopped and peered up at the still-mounted warrior. “Seems like I know you, too.” Karleah looked Flinn up and down and then smiled a large, toothy grin. Her teeth, though crooked, were extraordinarily white. “Yes, I remember you. You fought a green dragon once; I saw it in a dream. You can come, too. The others will have to stay where they are, or they can pay the toll and make camp outside my valley. The vail vine needs to be fed, you know.” She turned and began moving leisurely away.

  Dayin looked up at Flinn and whispered, “Throw down a coin for Jo and one for each animal, too, or the vine won’t let them go.” The boy scurried after the old wizardess.

  Flinn pulled out six silvers from his purse, throwing one in front of the animals and another at Jo’s feet. A distinct slithering noise followed and Jo hurriedly mounted up on her horse. “You and Braddoc make camp where we entered the valley,” Flinn said to Jo, “and I’ll be back soon.”

  “I don’t like your going off with her,” Jo warned.

  “I know you don’t, Jo, but that’s just Karleah’s way,” the warrior responded as he dismounted. “Try not to worry. We’ll be safe. Take Dayin’s pony and Ariac with you.” He handed Jo the reins.

  Jo nodded and turned her horse around. Braddoc, with one disgruntled look, followed. Flinn joined the slow-moving wizardess and Dayin.

  “So you know about vail vine, do you, son?” Karleah Kunzay was saying with a certain admiration. She gave a laugh that was just short of a cackle. Flinn was reminded of the blue jay. We didn’t stand a chance of quietly riding into Karleah’s valley, he thought. “It’s not many that do,” Karleah added. Flinn raised an eyebrow and wondered whether Karleah was responding to his thoughts or making a comment to Dayin about the vail vine.

  Dayin quietly agreed with her.

  “Your father teach you about the vine? Did you ever make one?” The old woman was obviously prying for information, and Flinn thought to interject but decided not to. Dayin would likely tell Karleah whatever she wanted to know since he wanted to become her apprentice. Besides, the wizardess was quite capable of magically extracting the truth, if the tales about her were to be believed.

  “My father made one and I helped, too, so that sort of counts.” The boy laughed shyly. “I got to hold the coins of greed he used to feed the vine.”

  “Is that so?” the old woman responded.

  “Oh, yes. It took a long time before Father taught the plant to prefer gold coins over earth and water, and I always helped with feedings. The coins always squawked about not wanting to be eaten by the plant. They wanted me to run away with them, but I didn’t,” Dayin gushed.

  “Doesn’t look like your father’s with you, son,” the old woman peered over her shoulder toward Flinn. “I don’t remember him looking like that.”

  “Father’s dead—been gone two years now,” the boy responded easily, without any grief. He turned and pointed at Flinn. “You know Flinn. He’s a knight of Penhaligon. And we left behind Jo, his squire, and our friend Braddoc.”

  “Flinn, eh? Yes, that was the name. The Mighty Flinn,” the old woman murmured. When the boy opened his mouth to elaborate, the crone touched his shoulder and pointed to a tiny path entering a thick copse of evergreens.

  “There’s my home, right through those trees,” Karleah said proudly as they approached. “I built it myself.” Her crooked white teeth gleamed in the dusk. “Follow me.” Without further word, Karleah stepped into the trees, Dayin immediately behind her.

  Flinn hesitated, harboring deep misgivings about the wards Karleah must have set around her home. “I can’t leave Dayin in there all alone.” Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the copse. Silence. He could still see the spruces and smell the pines, but all sound ceased. Nothing moved inside the still woods, and the magical blanket of snow had already erased the tracks of the wizardess and the boy.

  Flinn continued forward, expecting to see Karleah’s house. Abruptly, darkness fell, black and unnatural. “Now I am deaf and blind,” he whispered, though he couldn’t even hear his own words. “Still smells like a forest, though.” Stretching out his hands, he stumbled through the trees. The branches bit at him with their brittle winter boughs. A twig jabbed his forehead and he cried out in annoyance, but the woods consumed the sound immediately. Panic threatened to rise in him, but he fought the feeling down.

  “Karleah? Dayin?” he said, tentatively. This time, the names sounded muffled in the unnatural stillness. He tried calling as loudly as he could, “Karleah? Where are you?”

  He thought he heard the old woman’
s cackling response, “You are almost there. You’re almost through the wards,” but the words may have come from his own mind. Running his hand through his hair, Flinn pressed forward. How long he walked in that sightless, soundless void, he didn’t know. Only the scent of pine seemed real, tangible, solid. His relief at the sight of light coming from two windows ahead was almost overwhelming.

  In a clearing ahead stood a hut, roughly the size of his cabin. A little light still remained in the sky above. The dark spruces that ringed the cabin seemed familiar once again and not darkly magical. The cottage’s walls of rough-hewn rock were topped with a pine-bough-thatched roof. The two windows were covered with thin animal hides that had been oiled and waxed so often they were semi-translucent. The light that emanated from behind the skins was golden. Flinn opened the door, which was made of planks bound together by vines, and stepped inside.

  Warmth and light and an indefinable, almost palpable, peace engulfed him. Karleah and Dayin were nowhere to be seen in the opulent room he entered. Tapestries covered the walls, ornate furniture beckoned him to sit, and hundreds of candles cast their glow about the room—all only serving to highlight the loveliest woman Flinn had ever seen. In front of the fireplace sat a maiden, her skin pale and clear, her hair the color of sable fur, her eyes green as spring grass. She was framed by the light of the welcoming fire. At her feet lay a sleeping cat.

  The woman stood and smiled, holding out her hands. The gesture was so beguiling in its innocence that Flinn stepped forward and grasped those hands without question. As he gazed into the woman’s eyes of green, he found himself struggling to remember why he was here and whom he was looking for.

  The maiden smiled up at him, her gentle beauty shining in the light. “Kiss me,” she said simply.

  Flinn almost complied. He leaned toward her, his eyes intent upon her perfect lips. But he stopped; the image of Johauna Menhir rose unbidden in his mind, and with it came the knowledge of what he was seeking.

  “I—I cannot, lady,” he said as graciously as he could, releasing her hands. “I lost my way in the woods, and I am looking for an old woman and a young boy. Have you seen them?” Flinn cocked his head suddenly and looked sharply at the maiden before him. “Or are you…?�

  Flinn felt, rather than saw, the radiant image before him shimmer. The dazzling candles disappeared one by one until only two remained, one on a suddenly plain wooden table and the other on the equally rough mantle. Gone, too, were the tapestries and furniture, replaced by homely counterparts. The cat became Dayin, who blinked rapidly and said not a word. Last to shimmer away was the beautiful maiden, and in her place stood Karleah Kunzay, in all her wizened glory. The magnificent room became simply a stone hut, cluttered with bottles and cups and canisters. Herbs hung from the rafters, lending an unpleasant smell to the stifling room. A brisk fire burned in the hearth, adding its pungent odor of smoke.

  “Karleah Kunzay. As I thought,” Flinn said slowly.

  “Yes, it is me,” Karleah said. She gestured toward a bench while she slowly sat in a rocker opposite it. Flinn lowered himself to the seat and drew Dayin to his side. “I sometimes test those I allow to enter my valley,” she explained. “Amusement, you know. It makes the days pass. I keep a tally, too; you’re only the second person to resist that particular illusion. I must be losing my touch.” The old woman winked and tapped Flinn’s knee. “’Course, I might have preferred it if you had failed.” The old wizardess stared at Flinn with avidity. Her eyes, sunk into her flesh, glistened with greed. “Why have you come, Fain Flinn? Are you here to discover the true foretelling?”

  Flinn put his hand on Dayin’s shoulder. “The boy here is Dayin Kine. He says he knows you,” Flinn began, ignoring Karleah’s question.

  “That is so,” Karleah nodded serenely. “I knew his father, too. What has Dayin’s fate to do with yours?”

  Flinn shook his head and said, “Dayin asked to come here—”

  “I told Flinn and Jo that you’d take me in,” Dayin said in a breathless rush. “I said you’d want me to come to you instead of anyone else, mostly because there isn’t anyone else. You meant what you said, didn’t you?” The boy’s sky-blue eyes grew wide with fear, and Flinn suddenly remembered how young the child was.

  Karleah Kunzay cracked a smile and said, “Yes, Dayin, I meant it when I said you’d make a fine apprentice. I also meant it when I said I’d take you on someday. Since it looks like the day is here, here is where you’ll stay.”

  Dayin impulsively hugged the old crone, who looked surprised at the display of affection. “Well,” she said, smiling and pushing the boy away, “that’s enough of that.” One of Karleah’s bent and bony hands patted the boy, and then the wizardess pushed him toward the door. “Go back to your friends for tonight, Dayin. Flinn and I have things to discuss.”

  “Will he be ah right?” Flinn asked with concern. “Pshaw!” cackled Karleah. “The boy is safer in my valley than he was in his mother’s womb!” Dayin called good night and left the cabin. Karleah watched him go, then busied herself by putting a log on the fire. In silence she sat back in her rocker and eyed Flinn.

  Flinn gazed back at her and said, “It’s good to see you again, Karleah. I wondered how you were faring.”

  “Hah!” Karleah chortled. “Had you really been concerned about me, you would have come to see me.” She tapped his knee again, suddenly serious. “Why are you here, Flinn?” She gestured toward the door with her staff. “I appreciate your bringing the boy to me, for I am fond of him. But you could have let him make his way here on his own. He would have found me. You came for another reason.”

  Flinn nodded. “Yes. I… need answers.”

  “To…?” Karleah queried.

  Flinn pulled out his pouch of abelaat stones and spilled the crystals into his hand. “To these—and more.” He looked at the wizardess and then asked calmly, “What do you take in payment?”

  The old woman’s eyes were lost in the wrinkles of her face. Flinn grew increasingly uncomfortable in the silence. “The payment is usually in blood, Fain Flinn, for answers like those you seek,” she said slowly. “But from you I want something else. Give me four of the crystals made with Johauna Menhir’s blood.”

  Flinn looked at her curiously. “Granted, provided you tell me why you want those stones in particular. And further, how did you know that some of these stones were made with Jo’s blood?” he asked.

  “The vail vine is more than a toll. It also ‘reads’ a person’s history so that I know who enters my valley. But the vine couldn’t read much of your squire’s life, save that she’d been bitten by an abelaat.” Karleah warmed to the subject. “There’s something about abelaat spittle that defies detection. It’s very difficult to spy on someone like Jo, even using crystals made with the abelaat’s own blood.”

  Karleah reached over and took four of the dark red crystals from Flinn’s hand. “These were inside your squire a long time. They are well made and probably more powerful than most other human-blood crystals I’ve seen. Johauna nearly lost her life in making these. Although these stones won’t allow communication like those made of the abelaat’s blood—”

  “But we heard Verdilith through one of Jo’s crystals when she saw him in his lair,” Flinn interjected.

  “So the vines told me,” the old woman nodded. “The vision was too tiny for you to see in the stone, but I believe Verdilith was using a crystal to spy on you at the same time. If two stones are used simultaneously between two parties, communication is possible.” Karleah paused. “However, there is a second explanation for your hearing the dragon through the stone.”

  “What is the second? And is this the reason why you want Jo’s crystals as opposed to the abelaat’s?” Flinn held up the remaining amber crystals.

  The old woman sighed and looked at the crystals she held. “The stones made from Johauna’s blood may be used only to communicate with Johauna, or for her to communicate with someone else—which is what she did with Verdil
ith.” Karleah paused unexpectedly, then chewed her lower lip. “Furthermore,” she continued slowly, “there is a possibility—however slight—of using these crystals to communicate whenever you choose.”

  “Whenever I choose?” Flinn asked sharply. “What do you mean, Karleah? I don’t understand.”

  The old woman was quiet, as if weighing her words. Flinn moved to speak, but she held up a hand warningly. “Do not hurry me, Fain Flinn,” Karleah said. She pursed her lips, blowing air through them in a soundless whistle. At last she spoke. “It is true that some crystals can cut across not only the barriers of space but those of time as well. They allow communication across the years,” she said slowly, “even with someone who is dead…. Yes, some of the stones are that powerful. But the effort to make such contact is immense and requires much skill.”

  Flinn stared at the crystals in his hand. “Tomorrow I am going to the Castle of the Three Suns to right a wrong done to me seven years ago. Can the crystals be used to see an event that happened in the past?” Slowly he looked over to the wizardess.

  “You wish to prove your innocence, is that it?” Karleah asked sharply. Flinn only nodded, and the old woman shook her head in response. “Flinn, look to your heart when you confront those who wronged you. You don’t need magic when you have truth,” she said solemnly.

  Flinn continued to gaze at her. He sighed lightly. “You’re right, Karleah Kunzay, and I thank you for that. Truth is on my side, and with words I will make the council see that truth.” He tucked the remaining crystals back into his purse. “You have the gift of second sight, don’t you?” he asked quietly a moment later.

  Karleah nodded. “It’s true I have the gift—or the curse, as the case may be. It has become a fickle one of late.” She paused and then continued, her eyes intent on the warrior. “However, it would be a simple matter to see what lies in your future, for it is a short one, Fain Flinn.” Her expression didn’t change.

  Flinn’s brows drew together in a knot. He had expected nothing else. He shoved the thought aside for now and looked down at his hands. “And… and the girl’s future?” he asked tightly.