Duality (12 page)

“Wrong. I have plans for an army such as this world has never seen. Hengist helps me raise it without even knowing. None will stand against me.” Jalad’s eyes softened with false pity. “Too bad you won’t live to see it. You’re more dangerous than useful.” He knotted his other hand in her matted hair. “You prayed to your Goddess for strength? You should have prayed for ignorance.”

She struggled just to breathe.

He appeared lost in thought or a silent conversation with the Other. “Then, witch, you will be tried afore the One Truth so all may see what happens to sorcerous heretics.”

Witch? Heretic? Horror skittered along her every nerve. Dara knew death by fire. The smell, the screams. “I will renounce you afore all.”

“They’d think you mad.”

“The dying speak the strangest truths. Enough will wonder. Enough might know.”

“But a witch must be gagged lest she corrupt innocence.”

She bared her teeth, but held still.

He laughed. “You’ll go muzzled to the grave.” His voice deepened, hollow as a bottomless well. “The spirit of life is born in fire, and by fire does the spirit return to Her Light. Light to Light, from this world to the next.”

She was shocked at sacred words from a demon.

“You travel to the next world by fire. You should thank me. I could have you drawn and quartered but there’s such irony to fire.” He stepped back, releasing her. “I have plans to make. I’ll see you soon.” He turned and disappeared into the darkness.

She sank to the floor, her mind as numb as her body. She’d thought she’d have more time, for plans, rescues. There was no way Loren could make it back in time. Now it seemed there was time only for thoughts. For questions. How far had Loren and Xavier gotten? Would Moira live to see her son take the throne after his father?

Jalad returned hours later in full ceremonial armor. Caltrik held a burning rush torch and Gerrold a set of prisoner transport chains. “Just like a family reunion.” Jalad laughed. A heavy strip of linen dangled from one chainmailed fist. “Time to silence the witch.” He tied the gag across Dara’s mouth.

Caltrik’s coarse laughter answered him as Gerrold unlocked her prison chains. She straightened on legs that shook from numbness, cold and fear. Gerrold replaced the true-iron shackles with the iron-blend transport manacles. She sensed the difference, a lightening of the restraints.

Jalad chuckled at her trembling. “Cold? Not for long. Soon we’ll warm you.”

Dara wondered what mockery of a trial awaited her.

They hauled her into the main hall. She struggled through the knifing pain to breathe in enough air to keep moving. Lightheaded, she panted around the cloth. Noses wrinkled as she staggered past, and people took a step back. She squinted against the blinding brightness of the sunlit windows. Voices remarked on her nudity and filthiness. Her blood boiled. She straightened aching shoulders and raised her eyes, staring straight ahead. Inside, she sought her power, but it cowered beneath iron’s grip.
So be it.

She glared toward the dais, where a pinched-faced truth-seeker perched on Jalad’s throne. Two lesser attendees lurked just behind him. One held the truth-seeker’s staff and the other sat at a small wooden table armed with quill pen, ink and parchment.

Where had Jalad found them? How could any truth-seeker miss his true nature? This one couldn’t be god-touched and still under the Other’s rule. These imposters couldn’t sense Light if it turned stone into gold afore their very eyes.

“Is this the child of the once ways?” the truth-seeker asked in sonorous tones.

“She burned a body in th’ woods,” Caltrik reported.

“She flaunted her womanhood in th’ garb o’ men an’ was caught bearin’ arms,” Gerrold added.

“She attempted to assassinate her rightful ruler, me.” Jalad rubbed his throat.

“You do not allow her to answer?” the truth-seeker asked.

Dara’s heart flared with hope.

“Have her spells corrupt this assembly?” Jalad’s eyes swept the room. While his own men stared back at him, Hengist’s motley survivors stared at the floor.

She wilted. No help from that quarter.

“I commend your protection of your people,” the truth-seeker stated. His lackey scribbled furiously. “What evidence bring you to bear in this case?”

Gerrold motioned another Boar forward. The other man laid a pile of cloth and knives at the truth-seeker’s feet. “Th’ clothin’ an’ weapons she was captured with,” Gerrold testified.

“Are there any who would verify this information?”

“Aye,” a dozen voices, all Boars, chorused.

“This indicates a willful disobedience to the laws of men,” the truth-seeker intoned. “We do not burn disobedient daughters; they are thrashed by their fathers or husbands until they learn more circumspect behavior.”

For a moment Dara wanted to cheer the old fraud on. Then she dared stare into his eyes and was taken aback. They glittered back at her with glee and malice. Something was very wrong. He was just going through the motions. Her punishment was already decided.

“What other evidence would you bring afore me?”

Jalad rubbed his neck. “She attempted to choke me. As your king, my word is above reproach, and my men will testify to the change in my voice.”

A skinny rat of a man crept forward. “I am King Jalad’s field surgeon. I testify the injury sustained by King Jalad was caused by strangulation. The damage may well be permanent.”

Good. Next time I won’t stop until his head nigh rolls off his shoulders.
Next time? Whom did she deceive? Her last moments passed afore this very assembly and, barring a miracle, within hours she’d be gone to the Light.

“The death of an assassin and traitor be by hanging until almost dead, then drawn and quartered,” the truth-seeker said. “You petitioned for the burning of a witch-daughter of the once ways. What evidence bring you on
this
charge?”

Here we go.
She wondered how fast the white elven mare could run. Surely Moira was on her way home. Xavier she was less certain of, but the Goddess would not abandon Her children in their hour of need. Dara had to trust She would help the seer in his search for Hengist.

“‘You are but a summer squall and will blow yourselves out soon enough. The earth will endure’. Her very words.”

“Aye,” echoed his men.

Dara stared at the black Boar hanging over the dais. She tired of that well-rehearsed chorus.

“I bound her with iron,” Jalad stated. “See her wrists? What human can be burned by mere metal?”

The truth-seeker stepped down to the main floor. He peered beneath the manacles at Dara’s reddened, blistered skin. He grasped her arm and let go with a squawk. He stumbled backward, tripping over his own black robe. The truth-seeker stared at his hand as if expecting to see redness or blisters of his own, and flexed his fingers. “She burns with the fire.”

Jalad nodded. “She would bespell and enslave us all. She must be destroyed.” The Other’s gloating roiled over the assembly, warping fear and superstition into bloodlust and vengeance. “‘The spirit of life is born in fire, and by fire does the spirit return to Her Light. Light to Light, from this world to the next.’ Thus do the witches believe. Send her forever from this world to where she can do no harm.”

“Aye.” The truth-seeker returned to tower over her. “Dara Kahn Androcles, true-daughter of Sheena Kahn Androcles, thou art hereby condemned as a witch-daughter of the once ways. Thou art sentenced to die by cleansing fire at dawn tomorrow.” His burning eyes swept the hall. “All art ordered to witness the justice of the One Truth. None art excused.”

Dara’s turned her gaze to Hengist’s people. None met her eyes—except Tegan. The Other laughed from Tegan’s young face, twisted in a mask of triumph. Of the innocent girl, there was no sign. But a shell remained.
Nay. Oh, nay.

Jalad noticed where her eyes lingered and stepped closer to whisper so only Dara heard him. “My new consort. The mother of my new army.”

Lady, what does he mean by that? He can’t mean it literally
. Dara’s mind flitted from one wild thought to the next.
He’s subverted an innocent child?
she raged.
Why did You not help her fight? Protect her?
That Dara would die had been a foregone conclusion. In exchange for the life of Hengist’s son, she accepted that. But the harvest of an innocent for evil was the ultimate desecration. Vows worked both ways.
Why honor a Goddess who turns Her back on the most helpless?
a dark, vengeful part asked.
How can Light permit the spread of darkness over Her lands?

Gerrold dragged her back to her cell. After the fresh air and light in the hall, the foul blackness was doubly wretched. He chained her to the floor. She thought she’d be numb to true-iron by now. She was wrong. She gritted her teeth. The stab of pain in her side robbed her of what little breath she’d mustered. She focused past the pain.

Gerrold stared down at her. “Pity. You’da made a finer queen than that child.”

She glared up at him.
Then help me.

Without acknowledging her influence, he turned and left. She sagged as the door bolted shut behind him.

“‘
The mother of my new army.
’” What had Jalad meant by that? He’d subverted Tegan for some purpose other than to be his new queen. But what? She had hours to think about it. If she could get a message to those still loyal to Hengist…

And warn them of what?
that dark voice taunted her.

She mentally clamped her hands over her ears. An endless, too-short night stretched out afore her. They’d gather all Riverhead to witness the triumph of the Boars and the One Truth. Feasting. Building her sacrilege of a funeral pyre. Drinking. Piling wood against the pillar to which she’d be chained on the morn. She tried to reach out to Loren, but pain screamed through her mind as she collided with iron’s unbreakable grip.

Tears slid down her cheeks onto the cloth still gagging her. Her power was gone. The Lady had abandoned her. Within hours she’d be as roasted as a pig on a spit, never to know if Hengist and Moira would triumph over Jalad.

***

Loren stared, enraptured. A shining white light surrounded the incandescent Lady with blowing silver hair.
“A champion, she asked for.”
The voice echoed through his mind.
“Life-debt thou swore. Wouldst thou honor thy oath, son of the dawn?”

Loren dropped to his knees. He must be dreaming. “’Til life’s ending, Lady.”

She stretched out a hand. Mist enveloped him like a stifling shroud.
“Then watch and see.”

From nowhere, sudden sharp pain struck. Loren doubled over, unable to breathe, and collapsed on the ground. From this curled position he looked up—into a demonic face. Through the vision-mist, Jalad’s cruel features masked another’s. Pure malice emanated from the creature towering over him. A gloating satisfaction at the helplessness of its victim overlaid black lust and a surge of all-too-human arousal at the pain it inflicted. Burning rage roared through Loren. He clutched his aching side and shielded his sensitive eyes from bright torchlight.

Something foul lurked behind those black eyes. Loren recalled Xavier’s and Hani`ena’s comments: “‘Jalad is more than he seems. Something else shares his skin, lives behind his eyes. A cold consciousness without heart. His presence brings hopelessness, utter despair… Abyss. Demon-kind.’”

He studied his own hand, but saw slender, golden fingers with filthy, broken nails instead. Iron shackles bit into delicate skin chafed raw. He felt the searing pain of burning iron, the agony of cramped muscles. Cold dampness leeched into him from a moldy stone floor. Scattered pieces of dank straw were fouled with his own waste. His hands and feet were numb beyond his reddened, blistered wrists and ankles. He was overwhelmed with hunger and thirst. The stench barely registered in the haze of despair and exhaustion. Waves of sharp, knifing pain from broken ribs overrode everything. All he could do was breathe. Shallow and slow.

“Pain tells us we’re not dead yet.”
Where had that come from? Dara had said it, in the forest when they had first met. He realized he saw through her eyes. He pushed at Jalad’s mind. Naught. No way in.

All at once the vision changed. He stared at the approaching black-robed truth-seeker of the One Truth. The man curled a hand around her blistered wrist and leaped back as if stung. “‘
Dara Kahn Androcles, true-daughter of Sheena Kahn Androcles, thou art hereby condemned as a witch-daughter of the once ways. Thou art sentenced to die by cleansing fire at dawn tomorrow.
’”

The visions of Dara disappeared. Loren stared at the Lady with horror. Dawn tomorrow.

The Lady stared back at him.
“A champion, she asked for. Life-debt, thou swore, thy sword and blood. Wouldst thou honor thy oath, son of the dawn?”

“Were we meant to meet, Lady?”

“Indeed. My daughter’s secrets must be kept safe.”

He nodded. “If You make it possible, I shall go.”

She stretched out Her hand to Hani`ena, laying it against the mare’s white neck. “
Speed and strength I grant thee now, to get there in the allotted time. Thou knowest the way.”