Duality (6 page)

Flogged and burned. Pain without permanent damage. Jalad’s methods of persuasion were brutal. Dara handed Xavier a flask of dreamwine, but the wounded man pushed it away after a single sniff to verify its contents.

“I must stay alert,” he insisted. “Someone must warn Hengist and ensure Moira’s safe. Jalad shan’t stop ’til he finds her.”

“I’m sorry. This will hurt.” Dara cleaned the raw, blood-encrusted wounds with hot water and soft sun-bleached rags. She couldn’t pain-block Xavier while at the same time working with her hands. She ground her teeth at the limitation and looked at Loren. He shook his head, and she remembered he could heal only himself.

She tried to be gentle, but there was no help for it. Xavier hissed, braced against the pain. His knuckles whitened around the cup. His lips moved. Dara felt him withdraw. “’Tis how you resisted?”

Xavier nodded. “I couldn’t give Moira up, not even for Mag’s life.”

Loren’s voice was harsh. “They would have killed her anyway.”

Xavier ran a hand through sweat-matted hair. “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.

“There’s something you need know,” Xavier pressed on. “Moira’s with child. I see a son. Hengist shall have his heir by spring planting.”

Dara’s blood ran cold. “Does Jalad know?”

Xavier swallowed hard and nodded once. “Aye, from Midwife Lacey. Under questioning. Right afore Jalad slit her throat.”

Dara thought of Lacey’s almost grown daughter. “What of Tegan?”

“She lives still. Leastwise she did when we left.”

She cursed as she snatched up a jar of cooling salve. “Jalad will tear this country apart looking for Moira now. Naught will stop him until she, Hengist and their son are dead. He won’t want any challenge to his path to the sea.”

“Now you know why I can’t touch your drugs. I must find Moira.”

“Nay.” Loren rose to his feet. “Moira needs a warrior’s protection to see her to safety. The Goddess can help you ride south for Hengist and Sezeny. Hani`ena and I can take you east to Jakop’s Crossroads.”

“Jakop’s Crossroads is where some of our wounded warriors recover in secret,” Xavier stated. “Jalad knows not of their existence. He believes all resistance crushed.”

Loren nodded. “Get a horse from the relay station. Take a mountain hunter cross-country, ride due south to Sezeny’s.”

“I have Hengist’s seal. It should lure me to him,” Xavier assured him.

Dara applied salve to Xavier’s burns. “What direction would she go?”

“North to the break. The clans would help her east.”

Dara couldn’t imagine the toll of a cross-country flight on a battle shocked, pregnancy-weary body. With Fanny and now Lacey gone, she was the only true healer for three days’ travel in any direction. She must get to Moira herself.

Loren turned to Dara and curled a hand around her upper arm, pulling her toward him. “You must heal him. Sight shall be enough of a burden. He must ride from Jakop’s Crossroads to the high court with all speed.”

She froze at the anguished resolve in his eyes. Healing without recovery…she’d be nigh helpless for days, in a realm overrun by demonspawn. Every ounce of self-preservation rebelled. “You know not what you ask.”

“Aye. I do.” Loren’s features hardened in the filtered sunlight streaming through the shutters. “This is more important than one person. Men tortured, butchered like cattle. Xavier must ride, Sezeny must know what happened here. I cannot heal him. You can. I know you would go to Moira’s aid but Hani`ena and I can get there faster. Xavier cannot intercede on Moira’s behalf with the east. I can. There is none else. As soon as you can, get north. Take Mag’s amulet. It shall identify you as Moira’s to her people. I shall come for you once she is safe. I promise.”

The kingdom was worth her life. She knew that. Jalad’s reign of terror wasn’t an option. It must end soon or Hengist wouldn’t have a land to return to. Dara wrestled down the fear. She bowed her head and closed her eyes, centering on the flame of life within, reaching for the calm, the acceptance.
Lady, our need has never been greater. Please guide my spirit and give this man strength for what needs doing.

She sent herself into Xavier’s battered body. Everything was bruised, although Jalad had been careful not to break anything. They were wounds inflicted to drain strength and will, especially one keep-bound as Xavier. He’d never survive a cross-country gallop for days on end and nights sleeping under the stars. She took his pain into herself; the claws of some savage beast dug into her flesh. Ignoring it, she soothed the bruises, the burns, and fed him her own strength. Weakness pervaded her body but she didn’t stop until every trace of hot angry red turned warm gold.

The loss of his eyes was more than she could heal. Sight would have to suffice. She could do no more.

Loren caught her as she crumpled to the floor. Head pounding, she struggled to breathe, to discern which of the four Lorens swimming afore her was real. She watched Xavier rise from the chair without even a stagger, astonishment written in each of his own four faces. She couldn’t speak. Pain and weakness pervaded every limb.

“Amazing. I feel ten years younger. Even my old age aches are gone. Thank you, lady healer.”

“Can you ride?” Loren demanded.

“Like the wind. I should be at court within the week.”

Dara willed her vision to clear. She leaned into Loren’s chest and summoned her strength, wishing she could borrow some of his. “Go. Now. No…time.” So cold. Her spirit was the merest flicker deep within. “Fire…”

“I can do better.” Loren’s voice was harsh, the guilt in his eyes frightening to behold. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her outside. “Forgive me.”

She had to make him understand. “Naught…to forgive. My choice…not yours.”

***

Loren scanned the forest in a single wild gaze and found a gnarled hazel tree, almost as if the tree itself called to him. He laid Dara beneath the bare tattered branches and cradled her close. “Great lady, help your daughter. Do not let her die. This world would miss her were she to depart this life.” As gifted a healer as she was a warrior and as fearless a soul as he had ever encountered. Her…gone…was more than he could bear.

This sprite was a rough-faced grandmotherly soul who radiated compassion. “
Just this world?”

“Nay. This is my fault. I made her heal him when she was already weak from healing those from the battle. I cannot bear her death.”

“The child be right. It was her choice. This guilt be not thine to bear. Let this not slow thee down. The danger to Moira be very real. Thou knowest death be not the end. Why dost thou fear so for this young one?”

Loren swallowed. “We are sworn to life-debt. I cannot let her go. We have unfinished business, she and I.”

“Thou hast done more than that, impulsive one. Be she more important than thy mission?”
Ageless eyes studied him.

Loren shook deep within. “Do not make me choose. The mission is mine. I accept that. I know you can help her if you wish it. I shall do anything you ask. Just let her live.”

The sprite smiled. “
It be not in me to price a life. Go. Thou wilt see her again.”

A mortal hand touched his arm, shaking him back to the forest surroundings. “We must go,” Xavier urged.

“Thank you, great one.”

“We shall return for you, Hani`ena and I.”

Dara scowled at him. “Go.”

***

Loren and Xavier disappeared from Dara’s view. Moments later hoofbeats faded away.

She willed her body to stop shaking. Mag. She must return to Mag. There was no one else to care for the old woman’s inevitable departure from this life. Too weak to speak the words aloud, she focused until the surrounding world was but a shadow.
Lady, let Your daughter hazel speak with me.

The tree rustled. A tattered branch curled around her shoulders. A root wound about her legs. Warmth and peace seeped into her soul. The cold in her side and the weakness in her body fled afore the Light.

“Fear not, little sister. Thy request be granted.”
The voice of an old woman sounded in her head. “
This world be not done with thee yet, child of earth and fire.”

Dara looked up at the tree trunk. For a moment she saw a time-weathered face within the bark, smiling at her. Her mind played tricks on her. She’d never been able to see the servants of the Lady Goddess afore. She’d never been able to hear them afore, either, but the tree had spoken to her. After all these years, why now?

“Thou art closer to us than thou realize.”

Well, that was clear as a mud-churned river crossing. Amusement brushed the edge of that thought as the tree released her. Dara did a quick scan and rose to her feet. Her full strength was restored. Even the recent burn from the cursed iron-blend blade was gone, without a scar. “
Thank You, lady.”

“Thou art welcome. Our other daughter’s time hath come.”

Unworthy sadness clung to her heart as she reentered her small hut and knelt aside Mag. Even knowing death wasn’t the end, she would miss the old woman’s uncommon sense.
Lady, release her from this mortal shell. Welcome her home.

Mag drew one last breath. A single, final rattle heralded abrupt silence. Dara dropped to her knees aside the bed. She pulled Moira’s amulet from around Mag’s neck, noting the wolf’s head with an eagle’s wings and curved beak as she placed it over her own head. Mag’s body must be burned in the old way. Only priests of the One Truth desecrated a body by burying it.

She hesitated. Any fire would be seen. She must hurry. She changed back into her masculine disguise and gathered her medicine bags, a bedroll and her weapons.

She glanced around her home. Impossible to give Mag a proper sendoff, without having three priestesses and her family present. Mag’s family was dead. ’Twas just Dara to provide for Mag’s afterlife. Although she knew what she had to do, sentiment warred with practicality. So many memories tied to one room.

She made a torch from a piece of kindling swathed with oil-soaked wool. “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. Lady, welcome Your daughter home. May her next life be kinder for the sacrifice made in this one.” Tears rolled down her cheeks as she touched the torch to her own mattress. Flames enfolded Mag’s body in the Goddess’ arms.

She wiped them away; ’twas past the time for tears. Now was the time for action. She turned from the stench of burning flesh to the rocking chair, hesitating. Rufus had made that chair and Fanny had sewn the cushions, embroidered with dyed silk thread from far south. Moira had gifted the thread to her for curing a toothache. She shook her head and squared her shoulders. She grabbed the fine lace tablecloth and stuffed it into her bedroll. Setting flames to her rocking chair, she tossed the burning brand into the far corner afore striding into the woods with Rufus’ weapons, Fanny’s medicine bags and Sheena’s tablecloth. The flickering light from Mag’s funeral pyre followed her for a long time.

Her skin twitched. The sense of being stalked grew in the back of her mind. The dark servants of Jalad, combing the countryside for Xavier and Mag, congregated at what was left of her home. Malice hounded her as she wove through the trees.

A howl sounded behind her, then another. Deep. Canine. Savage. The voices merged into a chorus of predatory intent. She knew what pursued her. She’d heard of a new breed of hunting dog, created by crossing bear-baiters on wolf-hunting coursers. The result was a giant, implacable trailer with courser speed and baiter bloodlust. Perfect for following and dispatching prey, be it four-legged…or two.

So focused was she on the vicious hunters behind her the malevolent shadows shimmering on the edges of her consciousness faded into insignificance. When a shout sounded to her right, she started in surprise. A movement to her left was all the warning she got afore something hard struck her head and the world went black.

 Chapter Four

“Open yer eyes, wench. I know ye hear me.”

Dara first noticed wet leaves and a crushed mushroom smeared beneath her cheek. A pipeweed smoker’s raspy voice accompanied rough hands shaking her. The man’s apparently lifelong aversion to bathing stung her nose and overwhelmed the loamy scent of autumn decay. A night owl hooted from a branch somewhere above.

Dara kept her eyes shut and concentrated on the pounding in her head as the man yanked her to her feet. Whatever struck her had broken no bones, but her head would ache for days. She was unmistakably in enemy hands: gagged, bound, barefoot. She couldn’t feel her medicine bags or weapons.

She cocked her head and shifted her weight. Her spirits sank. Mag’s amulet was missing. They’d found the blade tucked into the underside of her braid. They’d found the other hidden blade too. One she’d been sure no one would ever find.

Death afore dishonor.

Her chance for escape was slim. She’d not run far on bare feet. Her worst nightmare had come true.
Lady, grant me strength.
Each hour she resisted put Loren and Xavier that much farther away. The kingdom was worth her life.
Don’t let me give them away.