by Resa Nelson
As their footsteps raced toward him, Dunlop saw the leather opening like a flower in his hand.
Someone had drawn on it.
He held the small piece of leather between his hands, staring at the information drawn in pictures and realizing why he thought he'd recognized one of the women.
When the soldiers rushed back into the clearing, Dunlop smiled, understanding the power he held in his hands and how it could advance him in the ranks of Krystr soldiers.
CHAPTER 26
The air seemed to sizzle with danger while Astrid rode with the Iron Maidens in a pack of horses stolen from the Krystr soldiers. Clouds spread across the horizon and darkened the sky. The roar of the hoof beats of their newfound horses made it impossible for Astrid to hear anything else. She kept her lips pressed together, her mouth already full of the parching taste of dust.
Because the soldiers had numbered fewer than the women, some doubled up on horses. The two Far Eastern Maidens led the pack, sharing a horse. The young women stood shorter than Astrid and looked to weigh as much as a leaf. Their long black hair streamed in the wind until one held her hand high, signaling the women to stop. When all horses came to a halt, the woman holding the reins spoke rapidly in her native tongue.
Astrid thought the woman's name was Banshi, and the Maiden sitting behind her was Kikita.
When Banshi paused for breath, Kikita translated. “A woman said an empty village lies ahead.”
Astrid's eyebrows lifted in surprise. Kikita had stayed mostly silent until today. Astrid had no idea she was so fluent in the Northlander language. For a moment she felt suspicious of the Far Easterner but quickly brushed the thought away. Vinchi had trained these Iron Maidens, and she trusted his judgment. Maybe Kikita had spoken the Northlander language before and Astrid hadn't noticed.
Thorda translated Kikita's words into Midlander, the language most of the women understood and used to communicate with each other.
“How do we know it's empty?” Astrid said. “What if Krystr soldiers are waiting there? Who told Banshi this?”
A slight smile tugged at Kikita's lips. “A woman from that village.” Kikita nodded back in the direction from which they'd come. “I was with Banshi. The woman told us both. I believe she spoke true.”
Thorda spoke up. “What if we walk into trap? What if soldiers come from west?”
“They don't,” Astrid said. “The boy. Albrecht. He said the Krystr soldiers were camped to the east.”
Thorda frowned. “You believe him?”
She had a good point. The boy could have lied to Astrid.
On the other hand, Albrecht had acted as if he were the one in control, almost as if he felt sorry for Astrid and the Iron Maidens.
During the past two years, Astrid had learned the importance of making a decision instead of wasting time dithering and worrying. It was fine to take time to consider the options but taking too much time could mean losing all of them.
She believed it better to make the wrong decision than to make no decision at all.
Looking at Kikita, Astrid said, “Tell Banshi to lead on. We need to find that village.”
* * *
After riding for hours and taking too many forks in the road to remember, Astrid felt grateful when Banshi held up her hand and signaled them to stop. Thick woods stood on the right side of the road, and on the other side a towering, branchless tree dominated a field gone wild. The ground was flat and leveled as if it had been used for farming within the past few years but had since been abandoned. Banshi chattered excitedly as she pointed at the tree, standing like a gigantic wooden spindle. Its bark had been blackened, as if struck by lightning.
Kikita dismounted and took the reins from Banshi. “This is the landmark the woman told us about,” Kikita said. “We must go through the woods to find the village.” Leading Banshi's horse, Kikita walked along the side of the road for a few minutes. Stopping abruptly, she pointed at the woods. “Here. The path is overgrown but it is still here.”
Astrid frowned. She nudged her horse's sides with her heels to urge it forward but saw only the woods. It wasn't until Kikita disappeared between two trees that Astrid could begin to see the shape of the path.
It would make for a perfect hiding place. No one riding along this road would realize the path existed unless they already knew where to look for it.
While the Iron Maidens walked their horses and followed Kikita's lead, Astrid brought up the rear of the pack. Before guiding her horse onto the path into the forest, she cast a long look up and down the road to make sure she saw no one else.
After an easy walk covering a good distance from the road, the path opened up suddenly and unexpectedly into a clearing of neat wattle-and-daub cottages circled around a well covered with wooden planks. The surrounding trees provided constant shade and kept the air cool. At first glance, Astrid expected villagers to stream out of their homes, but she soon realized that would not happen.
Unlike the Temple of Limru where the bodies of the slaughtered had been displayed as a cruel warning to anyone who resisted the Krystr soldiers, a more subtle approach had been taken here. The cottages stood intact, although the small gardens surrounding each one lay unkempt and overgrown with weeds. Some of the thatch roofs looked in disarray and in need of repair.
A rope had been strung between two cottages, hung with laundry that had been dried but never collected.
With a growing sense of dread, Astrid dismounted, handing her horse's reins over to Kikita. The other Iron Maidens remained mounted, their faces reflecting the same kind of concern that gnawed at Astrid.
She took each step slowly and carefully, as if a bear trap might suddenly emerge from the ground and clamp its iron teeth around her leg. In the trees behind the cottages, birds chirped and squirrels complained at the unexpected company of the Iron Maidens.
When she neared the rope line that hung at eye level, Astrid came to a sudden halt, studying what had become obvious and trying to make sense of it. Within moments, she murmured, “Oh, no.”
Clothes had been sewn onto the rope, but not in a random fashion. Dresses hung shoulder-to-shoulder with shirts sewn to pants. Shoes lined up neatly below the clothes. Splatters of blood had drenched all the clothing and then dried.
She saw no ashes, no bone, no skin. She saw no sign that people had once lived in this village.
Except for the clothes they had worn, now arranged and attached to the rope as if the people who wore those outfits had been yanked out of them.
CHAPTER 27
While the other women investigated the cottages and searched the overgrown gardens and fields for food, Thorda helped Astrid gather wood. After checking the wind to make sure it blew away from the road from which they'd come, they sat down in front of the hearth of the largest cottage with all the wood they'd collected.
“What do the Krystr soldiers want?” Astrid said, arranging the kindling in the same way for building a blacksmithing fire.
Thorda hesitated for a moment as if searching for the right words. She handed more kindling to Astrid's outstretched hand. “They want land. Food. Wealth. They take it.”
Astrid nodded at Thorda's confirmation of what she'd seen inside Mandulane's tent. “They have a map. I recognized the Northlands, Midlands, Southlands, and the Far East but there were other countries on the map I've never heard of.”
“You saw the world,” Thorda said.
“I think so. It looks like they plan to take as much as they can from the entire world.”
“We stop them in Midlands. They cannot take from Northlands.”
“And if we can stop them from getting to the Northlands, they'll be weaker. We can fight them and reduce their numbers. We can at least make it more difficult for them to steal from the world. Maybe we can even drive them out of the Midlands or stop them altogether.”
The women worked in silence for a few minutes, now arranging larger pieces of wood above the kindling.
“Mandulane and the
Krystr soldiers claim their god is the true god,” Astrid said. “But that's just an excuse for them to take what they want.”
“Yes. They tell story. They make men feel good. Men want to be soldiers.”
Astrid knew she shouldn't have been surprised. Last year she and Margreet had struggled to contain themselves at a mansion where Krystr clerks joined the household for the evening meals. Other women had cowered in fear, staying silent and meek.
For the first time, Astrid realized she knew very little about the Krystr religion itself.
“What do the clerks preach?” Astrid put the finished touches on the arranged wood and then withdrew a piece of flint from the pouch hanging from her belt. “Who is the Krystr?”
“They say people were fishes. Long ago.”
Astrid sat back on her heels, astonished. “What?”
Thorda shrugged. “Long, long ago. They say we lived in oceans.”
Still astonished, Astrid said, “As fish.”
Thorda nodded. “God Krystr took man fish and...” She hesitated, not knowing the words she needed. Instead, she pantomimed. Extending her legs in front of her on the ground, Thorda pointed at them. “Tail.” She then chopped with a flat hand at the empty space between her legs. Pointing at them, she said, “Now legs.”
Astrid shivered. “Are you saying they claim their god took fish out of the sea and turned their tails into legs?”
“Yes.” A grimness slackened Thorda's face. “But only men. God Krystr took men out of ocean and onto land. Women fish stayed in ocean.”
No. This can't be good.
Out loud Astrid said, “If the female fish stayed in the ocean, how does that explain the fact that women exist?”
“Men want pleasure. They go back to ocean and take pleasure from women fish. But men want pleasure on land.” Once again, Thorda made a chopping motion between her extended legs.
Astrid's stomach churned, making her feel sick. “The men split the tails of the female fish and took them up on land so they could...”
“Have pleasure.”
Astrid stared at Thorda, seeing her own queasiness on the Iron Maiden's face. Swallowing hard, Astrid found it hard to speak. “When I was in Mandulane's tent, there were several women who danced. They were naked, and their bodies were painted blue. And the look in their eyes...” Astrid paused to collect herself. “They were empty. I think they were only there to be used by Mandulane or his men.”
Once more, Thorda nodded. “They take pleasure. They take everything.”
Thorda's words shook Astrid to the core. She remembered the horror and shock she'd felt when Margreet had been killed in front of her eyes.
An old familiar longing crept up the back of Astrid's throat like a lingering sickness. It came from the same anger she'd felt at Vinchi for Margreet's death, even though he'd done everything within his power to help her. It came from the same disgust she'd felt when her friend Mauri proved to be an enemy. It came from the same hatred she harbored toward her brother Drageen for manipulating her and destroying her happiness.
All of Astrid's feelings came crashing together toward a new target: Mandulane and the Krystr soldiers.
She focused on the flint as she struck it above a handful of kindling she'd kept aside. Within minutes, the flint sparked enough to ignite the kindling. Gray smoke curled up. She breathed softly on the tiny flame until it burned brightly. Quickly, Astrid placed her handful of new fire onto the kindling on the hearth and watched the beginning of a strong and steady fire.
“They take pleasure,” Astrid said, repeating Thorda's words. “They take everything.”
The fire roared suddenly, as if it had a mind of its own.
Astrid crossed her arms, heartened to see Thorda's face more clearly in the firelight. “Let's see what we can do to stop them.”
CHAPTER 28
Wendill sat on one step, not far from the doorway at the top of the tower. The stairway spiraled into a vast darkness below. With the doors open at the bottom and top of the tower, fresh salt air buffeted the steps while it rushed and swirled as if looking for a way to escape. Every so often the wind howled, wrapping itself tighter and faster around the stairway. Its stone felt cold to the touch, penetrating quickly to the bone.
The walls in this part of the tower narrowed so much that if Wendill spread his arms like wings he could touch them. Fascinated, he watched tiny flames shimmer and dance from Fiera's fingertips across one step several feet below.
The step writhed, shaking itself with a moan when it released a puff of white powder.
Fiera coughed, waving the powder away from her face. But the flames darting from her fingertips ignited the floating powder, which took the shape of a set of teeth and bit her. Fiera shrieked, pulling the bitten hand toward her chest while swatting the powder back into a harmless cloud with the other.
Looking up at Wendill, she said, “I cannot tolerate this type of working condition.”
Wendill shrugged. “It's the only one we've got.”
Fiera groaned. She shook her hand, and tears welled in her eyes. “These steps are poisoned through your fault, not mine.”
Taking offense, Wendill said, “I was trapped inside a rock when—”
Ignoring him, Fiera continued. “The poison is dreadful, but what do you expect when the alchemist who made it did so with the intent to murder someone?” She glared at Wendill as if it were his fault. “Compound that with the fact that the one who was murdered chose to be involved in the deaths of hundreds of innocent people, and it's quite a mess.” Fiera shuddered and then pointed an uninjured finger at Wendill. “I don't know what you were thinking when you decided to integrate with these people. They're absolutely dreadful.”
Well, Wendill thought. She's got me there.
Out loud he said, “What's done is done. And not all of them are dreadful. I'm rather fond of the dragonslayer.”
“Sacrilege!” Fiera shouted.
“It's but a term,” Wendill said. “She doesn't slay us. She kills lizards.”
“Still,” Fiera said, examining her bitten hand. “I hear she's horrible.”
“It isn't true,” Wendill said. “She has her grandfather's spirit.”
“Well, it's all led up to this. My hand is hurt and useless. I can accomplish nothing more today than a nice nap. Where shall I do so?”
Wendill stared at Fiera's hand. It looked fine. No skin had been broken nor could he see any swelling. Reaching down toward her, he said, “Let me see.”
Fiera cradled her own arm as if it were broken. “No. Enough damage has been done. I need no more.” She sniffed as if offended. “Simply show me to my bedroom.”
“But it's still morning.”
“And I'm exhausted!” Fiera forgot about cradling her arm and used it to point to the top of the stairway. “Look at how much I've done already!”
Wendill didn't have to look. “You've healed a dozen steps so far.”
“And it's horrifically difficult and dangerous and deadly work!” Pausing for effect, Fiera looked down dramatically and then shrieked. “My dress! It's ruined!”
Even though she pointed at a place on her skirt, Wendill saw nothing wrong with it.
“It's from having to kneel on stone.” Again, she shot an accusing glare at Wendill. “My knees and shins will be bruised for months!”
Wendill took the complaint to heart. He hated feeling cold and hard, but he had to admit it was the nature of stone. “I will find something to give you comfort when you work. We have a great appreciation for your help.”
Fiera sighed heavily. “I know.” As if from memory she recited, “It is wiser for us to work together than apart.”
“If you cannot work, you cannot work. But it would help us for you to communicate with one of our own.”
Fiera raised a questioning eyebrow.
“If we build the fire, you can use it to talk to her.” Wendill made no attempt to make it sound like a question. They both knew he spoke the truth.
CHAPTER 29
The next morning, like most mornings, Astrid woke before any of the Iron Maidens. For the sake of safety, they slept huddled together like a pack of wolves inside the cottage they’d found left in the best condition after the Krystr soldiers decimated this village. Knowing she'd likely be the first one awake, Astrid slept with her body blocking the front door. If anyone or anything tried to invade the cottage at night, she would be able to warn the others.
Astrid sat up and yawned, careful not to wake anyone.
In a far corner of the room, Thorda snored.
Pale sunlight beamed through the cracks in the door and the shuttered windows. Astrid marveled at the other women's ability to sleep in any condition other than pure darkness because she rarely could do so herself. The night had been unusually warm, and the women agreed to let the hearth fire burn itself out. Its woodsy scent filled the air, still stale from the cottage being closed for weeks or months or possibly even years, despite the small opening in the roof for the smoke to escape.
Astrid winced at the stiffness in her muscles from having slept on the cottage's dirt floor. She'd left Starlight in its sheath on the ground by the wall, just an arm's length away. She picked up her weapon and attached it to the belt around her waist.
The door creaked on its hinges when Astrid opened and shut it behind her, but no one stirred. She stretched, easing the kinks out of her body, and yawned again. She turned, looking for the brightest spot on the horizon and finding it between two cottages. Just as she suspected, the sun hadn't come up yet.
A low-lying fog rested on the grass between and behind the cottages. Astrid smiled, enjoying her favorite time of day. She loved the quiet and the gentle light.
After finding a place to relieve herself behind the cottages, Astrid walked back toward the center of the tiny village. A rabbit nibbled grass growing through the cracks of the well's stone wall. Looking up in terror at the sound of Astrid's leather shoe when it crunched against a dead leaf, the rabbit paused long enough to assess the situation, and then bounded in the opposite direction.
