by R S Penney
Desa ignored her, slamming her gun back into its holster. She dashed through the grass in a headlong charge, heedless of any danger. If necessary, she would squeeze the life from her enemy with her own bare hands.
Adele stopped her with a dismissive flick of the wrist.
Some invisible force flung Desa sideways, to her left. Her shoulder hit the trunk of an oak, and she bounced off, pain surging through her body. No time to recover. She had to put an end to this.
When she turned, Adele was gliding toward her, feet barely touching the grass. The woman chuckled, shaking her head. “You never do learn, do you?” she purred. “Let me say it clearly: you cannot kill me.”
She stretched a hand toward Desa.
The tree behind her cracked and split, groaning as it began to topple over. Desa leaped out of the way at the last second, thirteen hundred pounds of wood hitting the ground with a rumble.
Wincing as tears slid over her cheeks, Desa gave her head a shake. Her shoulder was dislocated; she could feel it. It took everything she had to stay on her feet, to fight through the pain.
Adele just kept coming.
Spinning to face her, Desa backed up into the thicket. “Come on!” she panted. “If you’re so powerful, why can’t you kill one insignificant woman?”
A scream ripped its way out of Adele’s throat.
Triggering her Gravity-Sink, Desa jumped and back-flipped mere moments before the ground exploded with a deafening roar. Dirt fountained into the air. Some of it pelted her, sending new jolts of pain through her body.
She landed with a grunt, then jumped and back-flipped again. Another explosion followed half a second later. At this rate, the entire valley would be a wasteland in a matter of hours.
A burst of kinetic energy hit Desa like a punch to the chest, pinning her against the trunk of a tree. She was trapped, unable to move, barely able to breathe. Maybe her luck had finally run out.
Adele strode across the craters that she had made, her face red, her eyes wild with feral hatred. “Impudent, little primate,” she seethed. “You really think your pitiful powers are a match for mine?”
Desa laughed.
“Bravado in the face of death,” Adele said. “Well, at least that’s something. What’s so funny, Desa?”
“You stepped right into the trap.”
The other woman opened her mouth to speak, but she was cut off when the blade of a dagger punched through her chest, right between her breasts. Adele looked down at herself in confusion. “Perhaps we’re unclear on the concept of immortality,” she said. “Is this supposed to stop me?”
“No,” Desa replied. “This is.”
She found the Ether with no effort, and the world became a sea of dancing particles. The trees, the dirt, the clothes on her body: all clusters of molecules. Except Adele. She was nothing but a black pit of emptiness.
Emptiness that could be filled.
Desa forced the Ether into the gap, temporarily severing Adele from the source of her power. She expected to hear a scream or a whimper, but there was nothing of the sort. Only a soft, gurgling sound. The force holding Desa in place vanished, and she released the Ether as she fell.
Adele was hunched over, blood spilling from her mouth as she choked. Her eyes were blue again. Blue and full of terror. She fell to her knees, revealing Kalia, who stood right behind her.
A snarl twisted the sheriff’s face into a mask of hatred. “That,” Kalia seethed, “was for betraying the woman I love.” She yanked the dagger out, producing a squeak from Adele as blood fountained from the wound. Grabbing a fistful of black hair, Kalia tilted the other woman’s head back to expose her neck. “This…”
“Protect the weapon!” an Eradian shouted.
He came running into the thicket with a rifle clutched in both hands.
Responding to the noise, Kalia spun to face him and raised a hand to shield herself. The man lifted his rifle and fired with a thunderous roar. His bullet jerked to an abrupt halt, hanging in midair.
Drawing her pistol with her good hand, Desa spun it around her index finger and then cocked the hammer. She fired a single shot, releasing a bullet that landed at the soldier’s feet.
The ground exploded when she triggered the Force-Source, sending the poor man flying. He crashed right through the hanging branch of an ash tree, causing it to snap, and then fell to land some fifty feet away.
Adele looked up, her eyes becoming orange again, round pupils transforming into vertical slits. She hissed, displaying those sharp fangs.
Two seconds later, she vanished.
Desa tossed her head back, squeezing her eyes shut and trembling with impotent rage. “No!” she groaned. “Not again!”
The Eradians were fleeing. Without their goddess, they were no match for Rojan and his team. Al a Nari scouts fired blasts of lightning that sent them running.
“We had her,” Kalia lamented. “The plan worked perfectly.”
“Except she still escaped!” Desa kicked a rock, sending it skittering through the dirt until it hit a tree. “And good people died.”
With the immediate danger gone, the pain in her arm became too much to ignore. Eight hours in the saddle was not something that she looked forward to, but there was no getting around it. They couldn’t afford to delay another day. Not after what they had just seen. They needed a permanent solution to the problem, and Mercy was the only person who had one. Desa would just have to spend some time in the Ether’s embrace.
“Come back to the city,” Rojan said. “Let’s regroup.”
An electric bulb in the ceiling cast light down on the wooden table in the hostel’s dining room. Raindrops hit the window with a steady drumbeat. Not a good day to begin a journey. Especially if you were recovering from a nasty wound.
Desa sat in a wooden chair, rubbing her upper arm and wincing from the pain. “I am sorry,” she said. “Your people are dead because of me. It’s a debt that I can never repay.”
Rojan had reset her shoulder. Now, it was just a matter of time before the Ether healed her. What she wouldn’t give for some time alone. She had had none since the end of the battle.
Pacing around the table with his chin clasped in one hand, Rojan grunted at her apology. “I fail to see how any of this is your fault, Desa Nin Leean,” he said. “You did not kill my people.”
“I gave Adele the means to kill them.”
The man spun to face her, leaning forward with his hands on the table. His brow furrowed. “From what I saw, she was perfectly capable of dealing out death without any help from you,” he growled. “She redirected the energy you used against her because she knew you would blame yourself. I suggest that you don’t play her game.”
Kalia sat with one leg crossed over the other, her mouth a thin line as she worked through something in her head. “What I want to know,” she said, “is why that soldier called Adele ‘the weapon.’ Seems an odd name for an entity that you revere.”
Desa slumped over, covering her face with one hand, massaging her eyelids. “It doesn’t matter,” she groaned. “The plan failed.”
“It almost succeeded.”
“Almost isn’t good enough.”
“She will be back,” Rojan lamented. “We’ve received messages by telegraph. The Eradians have attacked four of our outposts, and your Adele was present in every one of those engagements. Each time, our forces managed to repel the invaders until – and I quote – ‘the black-haired demoness arrived and called lightning down from the sky.’”
Desa stood up, exhaling slowly, and nodded once. “She will be back,” she agreed. “Which means we can’t stay here.”
“We could use your assistance, Desa.”
“And I would gladly offer it.” The thought of leaving these people after they had shown her such kindness was like a knife to the chest. Once again, Desa Kincaid failed those who needed her most. “But you saw the power that Adele wields. Brute force will not defeat her. We need to know her weaknesses, and Mercy is
the only one who can tell us what to do.”
Rojan studied her with obvious skepticism in his brown eyes. “Can she not impart such knowledge during one of her frequent visits?” he inquired. “It should be a simple matter for a goddess.”
“I’ve asked,” Desa replied. “Mercy can only appear for a few moments at a time. Not the easiest way to teach someone about the abstract concepts of metaphysics. We need to know what she knows.”
Rojan sighed.
Moving around the table, Desa put herself right in front of him. She looked up into his eyes. “Two more Field Binders won’t save your people,” she said. “If Adele isn’t stopped, your nation will fall in a matter of months. I can do much more for you if I find a way to end this threat once and for all.”
“Then go with our blessing, Desa Nin Leean,” he said. “And come back soon.”
The Weaver reappeared in her cell, shivering as she dropped to her knees. She could feel her organs healing, changing. With each use of her powers, the humanity drained out of her. Soon, she would be as monstrous as Benny.
Her uncle Timothy stepped into the doorway, scowling at the sight of her. “What happened?” He strode into the cell, seized her chin with one hand and turned her face up to him. “You were injured.”
The Weaver said nothing.
“This should not be possible,” Timothy said. “No one should be able to harm you in this way. Who did this?”
“Desa Kincaid.”
Timothy backed away, resting one hand on the stone wall. His head drooped as if he had been the one to fight a harrowing battle. “I’ve heard the name,” he barked. “She’s a bounty hunter from the northern towns, is she not? What’s she doing in Ithanar?”
Laughing maliciously, the Weaver felt a grin coming on. “Looking for ways to kill me,” she said. “She has a rather singular focus.”
“And she was able to harm you?”
The Weaver tried to rise, but the pain forced her back to her knees. She pressed a hand to her chest instinctively. “It wasn’t the first time,” she muttered. “I had hoped that this vessel might last for years, but Desa has removed that possibility.”
Seating himself on a wooden stool, Timothy folded his hands in his lap. His mouth was tight with disapproval. “If she can harm you,” he began, “this woman may prove to be an impediment to our plans.”
“Such incisive observations,” the Weaver murmured. “I can see why they made you mayor.”
“You will go back and destroy the savages.”
“I will do no such thing.”
Reaching into his coat, Timothy retrieved a black crystal from its inner pocket. He held it up to the light so that she could look upon its shimmering surface. The sight of it made her want to claw his eyes out. “Need I remind you which of us is in control?”
Crawling on hands and knees, the Weaver made her way toward him. She looked up and flashed a devilish smile. “You can compel me to fight,” she said. “But this body will not survive. And do you know what happens then?”
She forced herself to stand.
Timothy tried to rise as well, but she clamped a hand onto his shoulder and pushed him back down onto the stool. She traced a scaly finger along his cheek, lightly scratching him with the claw. “Back to the void I go,” she cooed. “To the prison they made for me.”
Straddling him, the Weaver sat in his lap and seized his face with both hands. “Painful as it is to admit,” she said. “This bag of meat and bones is the only way I can survive in your universe. Human bodies are such disgusting things, aren’t they? Always secreting their fluids all over the place.”
Her tongue darted out to glide over his cheek, causing him to wince and recoil. “No, dear Uncle,” she purred. “You won’t give up your weapon so easily. You’ll let me heal the vessel before sending it back into battle.”
“Get off me!” Timothy snapped, throwing her to the floor.
“What’s the matter, Uncle?” she said through a fit of giggles. “You always said you wanted me to show an interest in men! Is it so horrible that I should start with you?”
He stood up, shivering, and then walked out of the cell without another word. Her maniacal laughter followed him.
2
The blue sky of a clear, winter morning allowed sunlight to filter through the skeletal trees to a muddy slope. Hebar’s Hill, it was called, a lump in the earth that stood twenty feet high at best. The surrounding area was dominated by a stagnant swamp, making it less than ideal for a campsite, but it did provide some privacy.
Miri slipped between two trees with a hand resting on her holstered pistol, pursing her lips as she inspected her students. “Careful now,” she said. “All of you.”
Zoe was a tiny slip of a girl in workman’s clothes that seemed to hang off her body. She couldn’t be more than sixteen years old, and the freckles on her pale cheeks made her look even younger. Freckles and blue eyes with flecks of green, hair as red as a flameu. At first glance, you might think she had grown up in Tommy’s village.
The girl held a revolver in trembling hands. The weapon had not been loaded – you didn’t give live ammunition to someone who couldn’t even touch a gun without quaking in terror – but you might have thought the weapon was a hissing snake by the way Zoe held it.
Stepping up to the girl, Miri gently pushed her hands up to aim a little higher. “Like that,” she said. “Feet apart, knees bent. Squeeze the trigger, don’t pull.”
Sweat glistened on Zoe’s face.
“Go ahead.”
The gun clicked when Zoe did as she was told. It was hard to say without an actual shot, but Miri was fairly certain the girl would have hit the target she had painted on a tree. “Keep practicing.”
She moved on to Ken, a short and wiry man with a fringe of dark stubble around the back of his otherwise bald head. This one had the perfect shooting stance. You could see it in his eye: that intense focus as he took aim.
Crossing her arms, Miri looked him up and down. “Very good,” she said, nodding. “Take the shot.”
CRACK!
A hole appeared in the tree trunk, on the red spot that Miri had painted. He almost hit the bullseye. Zoe flinched at the sound, nearly dropping her gun. They would have to find her a different weapon. Guns were not safe in that girl’s hands. In truth, they had no intention of letting her get anywhere near a battlefield. There were all sorts of jobs that needed doing, and Zoe had a deft hand when it came to needle and thread. But Tommy insisted that everyone in the camp should receive basic weapons training, and he had the right of it.
Next in line was Shawn, a gangly young man with a dark complexion and a strong chin that could have been chiseled on a statue. He had a haunted look. As a slave, he had been forced to work in a munitions factory until she and Tommy had liberated him two weeks ago. She suspected that he had been mistreated.
They had not yet had the opportunity to remove the brand from his cheek. It could be done with the crystals they had taken from the Temple of Vengeance, but Miri remained adamant that those should be reserved for treating grievous injuries. The Ether’s healing power would eventually remove the mark if Shawn learned to commune with it. A handful of those they had liberated had found a measure of success on that score, but most were still struggling. Miri could sympathize. She had given up trying to find the Ether years ago.
“What’s wrong, Shawn?” she asked.
The young man gave her a sidelong glance. “Are you sure we should be doing this?” he muttered. “Guns make a lot of noise. I’d rather not draw the attention of any merchant who happens to be riding past.”
“We’re a day’s ride from Hedrovan,” Miri countered. “There aren’t many people out this way.”
“Still…”
“And,” she pressed. “We have Sonic-Sinks around the camp. No one will hear your gunshot, I promise you.”
He turned his head to glare at her. She could see it in his eyes. Now that he was free, he just wanted to slip away and h
ide rather than lead a revolution to liberate those who were still in chains. Honestly, she couldn’t blame him. But they needed all the people they could get. “Those things you mentioned,” Shawn began. “The…The…”
“Sonic-Sinks.”
He stiffened as if the word left a bad taste in his mouth. “Right. Won’t they prevent us from hearing an enemy’s approach?”
“That’s why we also have people on lookout,” Miri replied. “Shawn, I know you’re scared, but truly, this is the safest place that you could be.”
“If you say so.”
Miri clapped him on the shoulder, producing a grunt from the young man. “Keep practicing,” she urged him. “If nothing else, you’ll be able to defend yourself should the need arise.”
Target practice went on for another twenty minutes before she dismissed her students and allowed three others to take their place. This was her life now. When she wasn’t teaching someone how to handle firearms, she was going through hand-to-hand drills or reviewing basic tactics. The latter was somewhat difficult for her. Miri could fight on her own, but the finer points of strategy had never been her forte. She was a spy, not a general.
Their camp was a series of colourful tents in the middle of the hilltop. With the trees surrounding them, it was unlikely that they would draw any unwanted attention from anyone who happened to be passing by. Counting those who had fled the Golden Sunset along with those they had liberated from nearby factories and farms, they had over four dozen ex-slaves living here. Their food supplies were stretched thin. Tommy had raided the inn’s larders, and they had done the same for several other high-end establishments in Hedrovan, but the fact remained that they couldn’t remain here. She had visited the city on her own several times, and everyone was talking about the band of outlaws preying on innocent, hard-working merchants.
It was time to move on.
Miri saw people moving through the streets between the tents. A young man with red hair and a pointed chin carried a basket of laundry to the nearby stream that fed into the swamplands. Another fellow carried a buck he had shot toward the cookfires. So, they would eat well tonight.
