by Jena Rey
There Ephema saw one of the Sisters pinned by Star, who was stomping and biting the creature as though he was possessed. The second had a hold of Darian’s leg, dragging him from his saddle as his war horse bucked and reared. Smoke rose where her claws dug into Darian’s leg, ripping through his armor as though it wasn’t there. The smell of seared flesh hung acrid in the air, but Darian didn’t defend himself. Somewhere in the flight his mace had fallen from his horse and lay on the ground between Ephema and the two Sisters.
Darian crashed awkwardly from the saddle to the ground, making no effort to catch himself. The Sister leaped on his chest, clawing his armor into ribbons. Darian made a terrible strangled noise and then started screaming. It wasn’t a scream of fear, but of utter anguish.
Ephema threw herself forward, not knowing what she was going to do, but desperate to make his pain stop. Her foot caught on his mace as she ran, and she stumbled, caught herself, and looked down. The glint of the hard flange edges held her gaze. She picked the weapon up, surprised at how heavy it was. It almost fell from her hands, until Darian screamed again and her grip tightened. She wasn’t going to lose her friend to those monsters.
She ran to Darian and swung the mace into the Sister’s side. The creature wailed, and Ephema wrenched the mace free and swung it again. The stroke knocked the Sister off of Darian, the ripped robes rippling like mist.
]The thunder boomed again and rain pelted from the sky. An unfamiliar rage ran through Ephema’s body. She gritted her teeth and gold-white light poured down her arms and into the mace. She ran past Darian, screaming out her wrath, seeing nothing but the writhing Sister. It was a blight on the world. Its existence was wrong. She needed it to die. Ephema swung the mace over and over, blood and other materials splattering her clothing and skin. In moments, what was left of the creature wasn’t moving any more, the bits seeming to melt in the downpour.
A hiss turned Ephema’s attention, and she spun around. The other Sister had broken away from Star’s attacks and ran at her, leaping into the fray with a second hiss of hatred. The creature’s claws raked at Ephema’s face, catching one cheek, but Ephema felt no pain, only burning heat. The Sister skidded to a stop a few steps away and reared up, drawing dark smokey magic around itself. Ephema didn’t hesitate. With a grunt she swung the mace wide. It slammed into the monster with a meaty, terrible sound. The Sister skidded across the muddy ground and lay motionless, but Ephema hit it again until she was sure it was dead.
Ephema let the head of the mace rest on the ground, her arms feeling leaden from lifting the heavy weapon. The glow died away while she stared at the bubbling remains.
Ianel skidded around the bend and came to a quick stop. He looked over the scene, his expression hidden under his helmet, but he stood still for a long moment and made a soft whistling noise. “Dark Lord protect.” He gave himself a shake and sprinted to Darian. “Come on, warrior girl. We need to ride. The Sisters will reform quickly.” He got his arms under Darian, lifting the Journeyman as though he were an infant. Ianel’s gaze darted to the remains of the Sisters Ephema had left. “Well, maybe not those two, but the rest of them will. Unless you want to do to them whatever you did here.”
Tabor limped behind Ianel, his maul over his shoulder. “Damnation, where did they come from?” He frowned when he saw the field and the injured. “By the Holy One’s blood, this day’s getting better and better. Put him on his horse. We ride while we still can. Will he live?”
Ephema’s fingers were numb, but she managed to keep a hold of the mace as she staggered over to Darian’s horse. It took three tries to get the weapon into the loop where Darian carried it. “He’s going to live. I’m not going to let him die.” She heard the savage note in her own voice and took a deep breath. “Just…just bring him here and give me a minute.”
Ianel shrugged, carrying Darian to the horse. “Can you heal on the move?”
“I’ve never tried.”
“No better time to find out, then. He’s bleeding like a sacrificial hog.” Ianel draped Darian’s body across the front of the horse, then helped Ephema up behind him. “The Sister’s magic still holds him in thrall. That’ll end soon, and the pain might finish what they started. He deserves saving.” He met her eyes through the gap in his visor, which glistened with raindrops. “Good luck.”
Chapter Nine
The return to consciousness was a long, slow climb for Darian. It felt like there was something blocking him from waking and, though he tried, he couldn’t push through it. He relaxed, floating in a numb state. Finally, whatever was preventing him dissipated, and light played along his eyelids, bringing him out of the dark. He shivered, but couldn’t remember why he would be cold. He remembered the beat of rain. The road. Something had happened. Pain.
He groaned and tried to sit up, but moving was nearly impossible no matter how he tried. His entire body was stiff and sore, and he quickly became aware that he had been stripped of his armor and clothing save for his under breeches. A light blanket was spread over him, but it wasn’t enough to push back the chill. He opened his eyes, blinking until they focused right. His gaze traced the ceiling beams above him and then darted around the room, realizing he knew where he was. The way station they’d stayed in last night.
He rolled onto his side and saw Ephema asleep on a cot beside him. She was curled into a ball as though she too were cold, her brow creased, her fingers bloodstained where they rested under her cheek. A few feet away, the Knights were inspecting something by the light of a roaring fire and talking softly between themselves, oblivious to the fact he’d awakened.
Darian laid back and tried to think. He remembered leaving the way station this morning, but everything beyond that was a blur of confusing images. He grimaced and sighed. “Osephetin’s blood, what happened?”
Ephema stirred slightly at the sound of his voice, but she didn’t wake. She was pale, her skin almost grey in the low light. Her face and her clothing were stained with blood he hoped wasn’t hers.
He frowned and swung his legs around to stand. It was a slower process than he expected it to be. Darian’s gaze came to rest on his leg where a long pink line of newly healed flesh showed where at least some of the blood had come from. His chest ached, and he rubbed the skin gently finding more signs of the healing he’d been given. It itched and was tender, but he couldn’t imagine what it would look like if Ephema hadn’t been there. She’d saved him again.
“Ephema?”
“Let her rest, Journeyman. She’s the only reason you live, and she’s exhausted.” Tabor’s voice was low and he motioned for Darian to join them. “Come, you should eat and you need to see something.”
Darian slowly got to his feet, being careful not to disturb Ephema as he shuffled his way over to Tabor and Ianel. He wobbled with every step, but no one came to help him, and he didn’t want them to. He had to know he could stand on his own, or he would be a liability. “I remember… a battle against something, I think.”
Ianel snorted, stretching his neck until it cracked. He sat on one of the cots, his hammer next to his hand. “Something is an understatement. They were Sisters.”
Darian’s stomach dropped, and he lowered himself to another empty cot before his leg gave out. He closed his eyes. The memories of twisted grey shapes and agony returned. “How many were there? How did we get here?”
“Six. It’s the biggest damn grouping I’ve ever heard of.” Ianel leaned down and grabbed an apple from his pack, handing it to Darian. “And be honest, Tabor, she didn’t just save Darian; she saved us all both in battle and healing up the aftermath.”
“Aye. That she did. I never realized how important the visor was to completing the Dark Lord’s protections. Proof that you are never too old to learn. We are fortunate we have the chance to try again.” Tabor clapped Darian on the shoulder, bringing a wince from the younger man. “Lucky for all of us the Sisters’ magics don’t work on a true Daughter of Lianna. She broke the thrall. If she hadn’t, we�
�d all be tucking in at the Hall of the Faithful by now.”
Darian grimaced. “And since I’m not a full Knight yet, my armor did nothing useful at all. I remember pain in my leg and…” He dropped his hand to his torso. “Chest.”
“Yes. They peeled open your armor like a fruit. It will do you no good now.”
“A shame; I’d just gotten that chest piece to fit right.” Darian sighed, pushing his hair back from his eyes. He’d been too long without a haircut, not that it was of much importance now. “What did you want me to see?”
“This.” Ianel casually tossed Darian’s mace to him, which Darian caught on reflex with a wince. Even in the crackling light of the small fire, the weapon shimmered with white-gold light. The damage that had been done to it in the past was gone, pieces of stone which looked like smoky quartz filled in the gaps while unknown runes glittered down the shaft of the mace. The runes pulsated occasionally with golden sparks similar to the blue sheen of Osephetin’s divine will. The mace vibrated under Darian’s grip and somehow felt lighter, stronger, and more right than ever before. The thoughts he’d had of getting a new weapon for his soul weapon were immediately banished.
“Whoa!” Darian stared at the mace with wonder, feeling somewhat like he did on his birthday or Midwinter’s Feasting when he’d received a particularly meaningful gift. “When? How? What did this?”
Ianel gestured at the sleeping healer. “She took exception to the Sisters trying to kill you and borrowed your mace. She didn’t leave much of them behind. It’s the first time I’ve seen Sisters die and stay dead.” He dug a cloth from his saddle bag, grunting with approval. “I didn’t think she had it in her.”
Tabor shook his head, his gaze set on the fire. “It makes me wonder what else she’s capable of, though that is likely a question for wiser men than I. And I have the feeling that she doesn’t know her limits either. We have removed her from her sheltered life, and the world is forcing her to adapt quickly.”
“This is incredible.” Darian glanced at Ephema, who continued to sleep as the conversation flowed around her. “That’s twice she’s saved my life in as many weeks. I’m starting to wonder if I’m worthy of being a Knight at all, given that…”
Tabor looked away from the fire, raising his eyebrows. He snorted. “Given what? That you survived an undead ambush and brought the scroll back? That you found the last healer in the world? That you sacrificed yourself to the Sisters so that she could help us? Which of your great failures should we highlight when we return to the High Temple? Let me know, and I’ll tell your mother.”
“The scroll isn’t back yet. I could still fail at that before all is said and done.” Darian leaned to the side to dodge the stick that Tabor threw at him and grinned. “But your point is taken. I will follow the path Osephetin provides, wherever he takes me, faithfully.”
“Good lad.” Tabor tossed a wad of clothes onto Darian’s lap. “Now get dressed. It’s still a few hours until dawn, but we’ll leave as soon as we can.”
Ephema rolled over, awareness returning all at once. Her head throbbed in time with her heartbeat, and she thought she might throw up but there was too little in her stomach for that. Her gaze came to rest on the cot where Darian should be. It was empty and panic flared in her heart.
She pushed herself up on her hands, ignoring spinning nausea as she peered around the room. Tabor and Ianel were sitting near the fire, talking idly amongst themselves. Darian sat on another cot, the various beds really the only furniture in the station. He was dressed and seemed to be trying to salvage pieces of his ruined armor.
All of her Knights were safe and whole. Comforted by that thought, she sat all the way up, testing her stomach and her head. Both seemed content to let her move, for now. The way station was lit only by the little fire, and she wondered how long she’d slept.
Rain pounded on the roof, thumping along the wood and stone, yet under the thundering rain drops howled the distant cry of the undead. Those sounds meant it was night time, though she still wasn’t sure how close they were to dawn. Ephema pulled her knees up to her chest and listened to the rain. Her thoughts went back to her little cave, and how, on a night like this, she would be curled up in front of her fire.
Safe.
But alone.
Safe, but so very alone. How very different things were since she’d followed Darian to what she thought was his certain death in Aserian. She wondered if she regretted it. Her gaze went to the two Knights, then lingered on Darian. No. She was certain she didn’t regret following him, even if she didn’t know what was to come.
Darian turned at her movement and smiled. The expression warmed Ephema’s heart and relieved her. He’d been so hurt, and she had feared that she would never see his smile again.
“Good, you’re awake. Looks like I owe you another debt of thanks.” He moved over to her cot, settling down carefully beside her. “I’m still pretty stiff and sore, but the Knights tell me that’s considerably better than the alternative. Thank you.”
“We are friends now, yes? So, there is no debt between us.” She gave him a weary half-smile. “You are making me work hard at my healing. Maybe that is good for me.”
“If I were better at my job, maybe you wouldn’t need to heal me so much.” Darian laughed quietly, shaking his head. “I didn’t realize how sheltered the trainees really are. I’ve never personally faced foes as terrible as the Sisters, only the remains of their work as I told you. I thought I would have at least a minute or two, but I had no defense. The soul magic of the Knights protected them, but even that can be worn away if you fight Sisters for too long. A fast attack and retreat while the Sisters reform has been our only defense. Thank Osephetin their powers didn’t work against you. I wonder if that’s because, in a way, their powers are from the same source as yours even if they work in the opposite direction.”
“I guess so. It seems to make sense.” She stared at her hands, rubbing at the dry blood. “I do not like them. Their magic feels cold and prickly, but familiar – like a scene I know, but cannot name. Will they find us here?”
“No.” Darian shook his head. “The Sisters do not track like the undead might. Even though the Sisters are more deadly than, well, most of the undead, if you can get away from them, they generally won’t follow. They mostly haunt certain areas and driving them out is difficult. Once we reach Eoth, we’ll have to warn them that this path needs to be avoided. The High Temple might be able to send senior Knights to try and drive them out, since they can’t kill them permanently.”
“I…” Ephema clenched her fingers. It was as though she could feel the weight of the mace and the hot splatter of blood on her skin all over again. “I do not think the ones I hit will return, but I do not wish to hunt them.”
“I don’t want to hunt them either. Even after I get my soul armor. Though if we meet them again, I think whatever you did to my mace will make a difference.” He removed the weapon from his belt and placed it on her lap. “Did you know you could do that?”
She touched the shaft of the mace and the light, which had almost dimmed to nothing, surged, glowing with a fierce, joyful intensity before ebbing again. “I don’t know what I did. I remember I was very angry, and I had to help you. This is the first weapon I have held besides my father’s morning star.”
“Ah. Shame. Ianel was fully prepared to ask you to, what did he say? ‘Pretty up his hammer something good.’ But if you don’t know what you did, I guess that’s not meant to be.” Darian chuckled and lifted the mace from her hands. He held it level with his eyes, staring at the runes. “Even if it’s not something you can repeat, it’s incredible. Do you know what these runes say? I don’t recognize the language.”
Ephema shrugged, shaking her head. She had already told him she wasn’t good at reading, and these markings were even more foreign to her. “I do not know. My mother taught me to read, but I only remember a little bit. We didn’t have many books to practice with.”
“That�
�s right. I’m sorry. I forgot. Well, if we have some time, I would be happy to help you remember some of it.” He smiled gently. “There are so many stories to read. My father insisted we all learn to read as soon as we could, though I never fell in love with it like Fressin did. I do have favorite books, and I can help you if you want to learn.”
“Maybe there will be time when we float across the water.” She sighed and rubbed her head, finding a tender spot on her scalp though she didn’t remember being hurt. She wanted something from Darian, but she wasn’t sure what that something was. Comfort, maybe? Knowledge that she was doing the right thing, that she would not regret leaving her home? These were things he couldn’t give her.
“We’ll certainly have downtime on the boat. We should have some in Hawthan as well; the city affords a level of protection you’ve never had out here. Some say it rivals the cities of old from before the Lich, and many of our Brethren are there. If nothing else, I can assure you of one thing…it’s no cave.”
The pounding rain stopped shortly before dawn. As the hours drew on Tabor produced their borrowed map and searched for a way around the area where the Sisters had attacked, planning a wide half-circle on their way to Eoth. Ephema could see he wasn’t happy with the detour. The Knights argued the benefits of seeking out the Sisters and seeing if Darian’s mace would be as effective in his hands as it had been in Ephema’s. If it weren’t for the need to get the scroll back, and her own presence, she thought they would have taken the battle to the Sisters, but they decided they couldn’t take the risk. They would ride on, warn the next city and hope the Sisters would move on before anyone else encountered them.
