Authors: Multiple
Chapter 13
The
warrior-concubines set up their command from within the Seer’s chamber. The
women charged with her care and security refused to leave her be, and all
understood the importance of getting whatever news she had immediately.
Though
days of planning and action turned up little. Svella shook her head as she came
in with her full armour on, acting untroubled by the pregnant belly that looked
well past its time. “The latest searches have turned up nothing,” she said.
“This
doesn’t seem right,” Mirella frowned, finding herself restless and her nerves
frayed in a way they’d never been before. It was torture not knowing, being
uncertain of what was happening in the battle, of the status of their troops.
She was looking forward to fighting the rebels if only for something to do, to
take her mind off of her anxiety.
Mirella
had gone out personally with Svella, the soldier-sisters patrolling the
streets. She had seen the terrible state of the city, the invasion and
isolation of Ariste having had drastic consequences for the population. But
through it they’d turned up nothing as yet.
Svella
opened her mouth to talk but then her eyes went wide as she stared beyond the shorter
Mirella.
That
look of awe could mean only one thing, and as Mirella turned and looked she saw
the Seer sat up on her bed, peacefully still. She was no longer the quivering
mass entrapped in some violent seizure, she looked serene and beautiful. She
looked every bit fit to play the part of the mother of a god.
She
felt like she could weep, and was surprised at how much of it was simple joy
that the woman suffered no longer. At least for the moment. A lump was in her
throat and she moved forward to the woman, brazen as always. Even surrounded by
the elite guard, by those that cared for the woman and held her in such esteem,
there was no holding Mirella back.
A gasp
travelled through the other women and she saw as one went to take hold of her
and keep her from approaching the Seer. Instead the ghostly woman stirred in
her flowing blood-red robes and her eyes fluttered open to look directly at
Mirella. “My son marches to victory... marches to death!” The way her voice
went from serene to shrilly-panicked in no time was chilling.
She
felt her eyes burn but still she approached the Seer, kneeling at the foot of
the bed. She paid no heed to those behind her, instead raising her eyes to the
Mother of her God. She felt that horrible, dry lump in her throat as she shook
her head childishly, but still she dared not speak. Dared not yet interrupt the
woman’s lucidity.
She
watched as the pale woman’s eyes rolled back into her head then fought it off,
as if struggling to retain control. “He shall find victory on the battlefield...
but the enemy comes to steal his prize from beneath his nose even now. If they
are not stopped...” she clutched the sides of her head and rocked back and
forth, the whole of the room seeming to change. She felt a shifting in the air,
the candles flickering all about though nothing seemed to have changed.
“The
princess,” she hissed, pushing herself to stand. “Svella,” she moved to the
other woman the brushed past, “Let me know of anything else she says. I need
some that can actually fight.” Bitter resentment flourished up within her,
betrayal struck in her heart. “That little bitch will pay.”
“No!”
shrieked the Seer, her piercing scream blood curdling. “It is too late!”
She
stared at Mirella, and that gaze chilled her, as if something inhuman was
inside the pale woman. “An army marches through secret tunnels in the mountains
right now! No force of arms can stop them!” she cried.
The
other women seemed to get it, they all rose standing and froze in some look of
solemn resignation.
Mirella
froze, her breathing stilled as she turned back to the crone. “You can’t expect
for us to sit and wait for our deaths, Mother,” she said softly. Her footsteps
were slow as she approached the woman, and once more she knelt, her eyes
holding such reverence. “We carry your grandchildren. Your blood. You said as
much yourself. That I could be a Witch of the Coven.”
The
other women crowded around the bed and Svella gave Mirella a sympathetic look,
she murmured, “It is not as you think, sister.” She heard the scuffle of booted
feet as another woman hurried out of the room and then the remaining women
began to link hands about the bed. She heard chanting begin as the white haired
woman swayed.
Mirella
was lost, but she wouldn’t let him down. She couldn’t. Her eyes blinked away
the tears once more as she stared up at the Seer, “I would do anything for
him,” she said earnestly. “My life is nothing compared to his. He deserves this
city to fall to their knees.” She looked up and around at the swaying women.
“What’s not as I think? Have you all given up?”
The
doors swung open again and she saw as more of the Raven Guard women scurried
in. All about the chambers they began to join hands and the chanting grew
louder. Svella took Mirella’s hand and squeezed it tightly, “Join in, sister,”
she urged and began to chant with the rest.
Her
hand was trembling as she joined with them, welcomed into the folds of women so
unlike herself, but as the tears began to stream down her cheeks, there was so
little else she could do. At least this felt like something. Like nothing. A
sweet distraction at the precipice of destruction and failure.
Her
failure.
It was
then she heard it, the old woman's voice in her mind. “Do not despair,” it
said, sounding so much younger and stronger than it really was. “We do not
resign ourselves to giving up on him... we resign ourselves to sacrifice for
him,” she told her, though looking at the old woman she had not moved from her
swaying. Did not speak out loud.
Mirella
blinked. Her heart quickened, and immediately she knew she would not feel sad
for this thing. For this sacrifice, and only the loss of her child—his
child—resonated within her. She’d always known, from the first moment she
saw him, that she would do anything for him.
He’d
done more for her in the short months than she’d dreamed of in those tentative,
uncertain moments of just meeting him. In the days of new lust and love and
appreciation. In the warm nights of comfort in his bed, he’d always brought her
to new heights of devotion.
The old
woman’s voice spoke to her in such a soothing, youthful tone, “You are willing
to give all. Your dedication is admirable. I could not have chosen a better
woman for my son,” she complimented, the chanting becoming a hum on the air
that seemed to vibrate reality itself, everything beginning to turn bizarrely
blurry about her.
“Your
child shall not be harmed,” said the Seer to her again in her mind. “And you
shall survive this to sacrifice another day. Now I impart to you the secrets
you need for that...”
It was
then Mirella felt it. The earth shattering truth of the Ka’reem women and their
powers. She felt it. Their coven commanded the ability to rip the earth asunder
if they wished it. They could destroy as well as create, but she saw it...
flashes of sacrifice. The Seer’s madness a price she paid for her son. She saw
then other women who paid various other fees for their power. All terrifying.
Their bodies shrivelled to husks. Some left hideous and deformed. All suffered
regrets no matter how hard they tried to deny it, for the price was never easy
to pay.
She
wasn’t aware that the tears kept streaming, that she could feel something so
strongly, so passionately and with such empathy as she did then. Years of being
a servant, of growing up as a dredge of society had left her with a hardened
shell. She cared not for the suffering of others, not after seeing how jaded
they were about her own pain. It was something practical and cruel that kept
her sane, but for that moment she knew the exquisite despair of so many others
and she could empathize. She knew that she too would make this sacrifice and
become someone different.
Someone
he potentially would no longer love.
She
acknowledged the regrets she’d have, and still knew she’d do it. Sacrifice all
she valued, even His love, in order to save His kingdom.
Mirella
had offered up all she could, and the chanting took on such a powerful force.
When finally she felt the shuddering of the room coalesce it was as if all the
women were one. Their unified purpose causing them to see into powers beyond.
The
Seer guided them, she knew that innately, their sight travelling through the
stone of the palace and into the mountains themselves upon which it was built.
She saw then in the tunnels, the soldiers travelling ancient hewn paths the
nobles and miners before them had made. Their numbers seemed endless and beyond
the mining paths the soldiers in such numbers were marching through great halls
hewn by beings that could not have been human judging by their choice of style.
There
had to be hundreds, at least a thousand, of them. All heavily armoured and bent
on coming to Ariste and taking the city that Kulav had won.
Together
the witches—for she was one of them now—put their will to it. The
walls of the cave began to shake, pebbles slipped from the stonework above. The
soldiers did not notice it at first, but as they did she saw the looks of panic
on their faces.
An
earthquake, they cried. She didn’t hear it as such, but sensed it. Terror took
hold of them and as rubble began to fall in their midst striking some, knocking
them wounded or unconscious, the rest began to scurry as they could. They
trampled one another, losing their military discipline as the stonework began
to crumble.
The
rest was bloody horror.
The
women had ripped an army to pieces with their minds and as they came out of the
spell they knew they had felt victory. Though the price...
Several
of the women collapsed, others went to them. Some cried out in warbling pain or
madness. Mirella however...
Nothing
had changed. She felt it. She was as before. She was free to see things all as
they were: the Seer collapsed, the anguish on her sister’s faces. Then felt the
rumbling that should’ve ceased. That had killed so many soldiers and now shook
the palace itself.
She
didn’t quite feel panic, not as she felt she should. There was newfound concern
and affection for the women, brought about by the shared experience, but it
wasn’t panic. Her eyes moved over them, over her God’s Mother, over her sisters
and the price they paid.
What
was her price?
Her
hands went to her stomach, to her womb, and felt for a stir, for that familiar
life within her, even as she felt the ground tremble beneath her. “We need to
get into the open air,” she said, though she had no idea if she had whispered
it or screamed it.
She
felt the same, yet the shock had made her mind fuzzy.
Things
all happened so fast from there it seemed, as if it was all a haze. She felt
the reassuring life within her stir, knew it was well, and all about Svella and
her gathered the women that were still able and got them to bring the others to
safety.
It was
barely a moment too soon, for one of the stonework statues toppled, crushing
the bed upon which the Seer formerly lay as the quaking continued. Then out
into the courtyard they still felt it. More than that they heard the mountains
themselves groan and quake. It was such a terrifying sound.
It was
as if the world itself was crying out in agony at their act of violence and
then... she saw it even from where she was. All the other women gawked around
her. The mountain began to crumble, great slabs of stone sheering off the side
of the collapsing rock cliffs. Falling down into the pass out of which the God
King had rode but days before.
Rushing
to the parapets Svella and her stood on shaky legs as the quaking finally
slowed and came to a stop. He may have ridden through that passage to war, but
he would not ride back along it. It was closed. And no force she could
imagine—short of the terrifying powers they just wielded—could
dislodge such debris again.
Chapter 14
The
quakes had finally stopped. Svella and Mirella had rallied the sisters to
reassert control over the situation. The city was in a panic after all. Nobody
knew what had just happened, talk of dark signs were on everyone's lips.
Svella
slumped down in a chair at their new headquarters, cradling her pregnant belly.
She was well overdue now, and looked enormous, weary.
Mirella,
meanwhile, had been doting, caring on the other women. On her sister’s. She
wasn’t much use in battle, but she excelled at tending to others, and for the
only time in her life aside from her God, she wanted to help them.
“You’re
past your date,” Mirella tsked as her hand ran through Svella’s hair.
With a
snort the tall woman retorted, “What gave it away?” She gently patted the giant
stomach she sported. “The God-King has blessed me with a mighty child, sister.
This one takes time,” she intoned, sounding amused. Talk of him only reminded
her of the ugly truth. The mountain was closed. Even if he won... what then? He
couldn’t get back.
She’d
long ago figured this was the cost. Her cost.
“He
will be proud,” she said. She wouldn’t entirely give up hope. After all, even
if he didn’t return to this kingdom, he would rule others. Take on other
concubines, raise other armies, and she wouldn’t allow herself to feel
self-pity.
Svella
had never spoken of her price. None of the women did. Even those whose price
was obvious—so blatantly obvious—was respectfully ignored by the
others. It was not talked about. Ever.
It was
shared yet personal, or perhaps it was because talking of it led to
comparisons. One woman talking of her great sacrifice as more than another’s.
Whatever the reason they did not discuss such things, and they thought it best
that way.
“He
will be,” echoed the taller woman, stroking her stomach. They were all
concerned for him, Mirella realized. Even those who feared him more than loved
him. Nobody even much worried that the mountain pass cut them off from the bulk
of the cities already dwindled food supply in the farms on the other side of
the mountain.
“What
of the princess?” asked Svella. “How has she reacted to this whole... thing?”
she didn’t want to say more on the incident itself. The witches didn’t care for
talking about it.
“The
Princess handles bad news poorly. I haven’t wished to see her.”
It was
left unspoken. Mirella was worried that she couldn’t pretend. Her emotions were
rubbed raw, and the way her fingertips braided Svella’s hair a bit faster was
the only demonstration of her agitation.
“Maybe
it will have shaken her. Get her to tell more,” she suggested, the two women
having grown so close in the intervening period. There was no jealously guarded
idea with Svella; she wished only to help her fellow sisters. Mirella
especially.
“Perhaps
you’re right,” she agreed, finishing the braid and lovingly putting it over the
woman’s shoulder, stroking her flesh. “How is the Seer?”
The
tall northern woman sighed, “She has not awoken since. She pays a tremendous
price for us all,” she intoned with some glumness. Mirella wasn’t the only one
to feel for the Mother’s plight.
Her
lips touched the woman’s head before she pulled away, “I will see to the
Princess, though I feel that if you give birth here and now it may be less
painful,” she teased. It was a dark sense of humour, one that she had never
known herself to have until now.
Svella
gave a deep laugh, and though she normally would’ve accompanied her, the
pregnancy—and their ever increasing duties—were keeping her weary
and she stayed resting in her chair. “Good luck with the harpy queen.”
Since
the quaking Mirella was seen by the other soldiers and workers more and more as
something of a leader. They paid her deference as she passed through the halls
towards the Princess’s room, even gave her occasional salutes and bows.
Entering
into that decadent chamber however, she found the princess looking anxious. Her
beautiful, luxurious blonde hair a bit frazzled. “Mirella!” she cried, dressed
in some gorgeous sky-blue gown with frilled edges.
She
hated her for that decadence, for that pampered look even in her despair, but
her face softened as she hugged the princess and the first tear slipped from
her eye without permission. She missed him. She couldn’t show her weakness in
front of the other women, even in front of her friend, but in private, in the
arms of this woman she loathed, she brushed that wayward tear away.
“Princess,
I’m so happy you’re safe.”
The
princess was not concerned for her distress however. “What has happened,
Mirella?!” She cried. “The shaking... the mountain!” she cried, pointing out
her balcony to the collapsed mountain path. “What madness is this?! What’s
happened?!”
“I
don’t know, Princess. We had begun to rally when I first heard word of the
marching of the troops, so much closer than expected. And then...” she trailed
off. She had no way of answering the woman, and another tear slipped past her
cheek, even as her green eyes remained focused. “We are frightened and lost.
Have you heard from the Prince? From anyone on the outside?”
The
princess began to pace, clutching the sides of her head with her long nailed
fingers. “You found them then?” She looked so distressed. “The last I heard
from the prince, he... he said the loyal citizens were hidden out in the old
aqueduct.” She stopped and looked to her, “Are those the ones you found? Are
they okay? Did the quake hurt them?!” She demanded her answers so insistently,
looking near panic.
Mirella
blinked away more tears, trying to win control over her body as she shook her
head, “We don’t know, Princess.” Her words struck her, her tongue lacing over
her mouth as she thought it over. “When did you find this out?”
The
princess began to wring her hands nervously, resuming her pacing. “What do you
mean you don’t know?” she said. “We have to find out! Didn’t you come from
there?” she looked so lost and confused, her worries tearing her apart.
“The
dust is still settling, Princess, and I needed more help. I couldn’t do it on
my own,” she said softly, looking positively brow beaten. Maybe she was. She’d
felt like she lost a bit of herself since the cave in. “We will find them.”
That
mollified the dainty young woman and she nodded as she paced. “Good. Good!” She
said, gnawing her lower lip with concern. “The prince will be delayed a bit,”
she said. “With the mountain pass collapsed he’ll... he’ll,” she rubbed her
forehead. “He’ll have to clear it or go around the Arisean Mountains. Which...
which might take months,” she muttered, sounding distraught.
“Princess,
I ever continue to work for your good name,” she said, but her voice was so
soft.
The
princess nodded, “Good, Mirella. You go, you go and... do what you can,” she
said. “I’ll...” she paused, “wait!”
She
rushed to her ornate desk and sat down, writing out in her beautiful, ornate
script a letter, then using wax to close it with the royal seal. She went to
Mirella, “Here. Take this to my loyal subjects,” she said. “This should buoy
their spirits,” she decreed confidently.
Mirella
clutched it and nodded, looking at the young, frantic woman. Even in the throes
of despair, she was vibrant. Vivacious. Mirella bowed her head respectfully, “I
won’t let you down.”
The
exchange ended there, the princess too caught up in her own worries to offer
more encouragement. So once Mirella had left her and got outside she read the
letter. It contained a rather drawn out spiel about nothing in particular, but
at the end she saw something. The princess made mention of a lord she referred
to as “wise”.
Mirella
had known the young princess since she was a little girl, and the only person
she had ever thought was wise was the sleazy old priest that managed to bilk
both nobles and commoners out of their fortunes. The same one who once led
services in the royal family’s chapel.
She
folded it back up, and for a few moments, she found a private room and let
herself feel that all-consuming pain she’d been avoiding since the cave-in. It
was disappointment in herself, in her failure and her inactivity. It was terror
for her lover. It was a resentment that she hadn’t given birth yet, and at her
body’s inability to fight.
But
when she got it all out, when she felt all that pain flood from her body, she
felt refreshed and rejuvenated. She would find them. An aqueduct that could be
her salvation.