No True Way (23 page)

“Greedy little insect!” it roared at Bellgrove. “This is your ‘other magic at work'?” The Splendid One grabbed the old man's throat and lifted him high in the air. “You brought them here! I give you more power than any one man has left in the world, and this is your thanks!”

“This one is mine!” it shouted to the figures on the path. “He may have brought you here, but I claim this one as my offering! Even your kind cannot stop that!” The air was suddenly filled with a noise that made Bellgrove's chanting seem melodic. The mist walls burst into flame as the shiny dust had, and when the flames died, the mist, Bellgrove, and his “Splendid One” were gone.

The sun's brightness quickly returned to normal, and save for scorched stones and an old, cracked walking staff, there was no sign that anything had been to these ruins since its original inhabitants left.

Karinda craned her neck to see if the newcomers had gone as well, but in fact they were much closer, and Karinda's breath was taken away again. Two truly beautiful white horses walked into the circle of pillars. One of them bore a rider, his attire and bearing something Karinda had only seen in paintings and illustrations. But she knew them, and she stood in awe—and a little fear.

The Herald took a good look around at the remains
of the ritual. “Well, that was an unfortunate thing to witness,” he said to no one in particular. “Why people continue to think they can outwit demons is beyond me. Now, where's this young lady we're here for?”

Not him, too!
Karinda thought with a quiet groan.

The Herald seemed to hear that and scanned the area, looking slightly confused. It wasn't until the riderless horse nickered at him and nodded directly at Karinda that he finally locked eyes with the girl. He gave a start but quickly followed it with a smile.

“Arissa was right—you are a hard person to find, even when you know where to look.”

Karinda blinked, but quickly found her voice. “Who is Arissa?”

:That would be me, dearest.:

It took a moment for Karinda's confused mind to acknowledge the fact that it was the lone horse that had answered. It took another to realize that the horse had answered
inside her head
.

:And I have been looking for you for a long time, Karinda,:
Arissa continued, a feeling of warmth radiating throughout her words.

A hundred questions bubbled up inside Karinda, and the first one to come out was, “How can I hear you? I don't have this ‘Gift' your people have.”

The Herald let out a polite laugh. “It's not just ‘our' Gift, love. Anyone can be born with it. Admittedly, from what Arissa has told me, your Gift is rather unique.”

:And
your
Gift is being rude,:
interjected the Companion bearing the Herald.
:Introduce us to the young lady first. Then we can continue.:

The Herald grinned, a bit red in the cheeks. “You're
absolutely right, Ashlen. My apologies to all.” He gave a slight bow. “Herald Anselm at your call, my lady.”

“I'm hardly a lady,” Karinda said with a blush of her own. “And what's this about having your . . . this Gift?”

:Yes, you possess a Gift of the mind, Karinda,:
Arissa said.
:And as Anselm said, it is one we have never seen before, and we really don't know what to call it.:

:I'm still partial to “Never Mind”, myself . . . :
quipped Ashlen with a whinny.

Karinda cracked a smile and didn't bother to hide it. “‘Never Mind'? What does that mean?”

Anselm replied, “You caught a glimpse of it just before I first spoke to you. That look, as if I couldn't see you, even though you were right in front of me? I saw you, but as soon as I did, your mind told mine that you were . . . well . . .”

“Irrelevant,” Karinda answered before Anselm could find a word. “Unimportant, too much so to even remember seeing.”

Arissa snorted.
:You mustn't think like that, dearest. You are anything but!:

Karinda shook her head. “No, I don't mean it as an insult. It's true. I've dealt with this since I was a child . . . this explains so much.”

“You don't have to deal with it alone anymore, Karinda,” said Anselm. “Now that you know about it, we can train you to control it and use it responsibly.”

Karinda looked confused. “Responsibly?” She held up a finger. “Wait, no, before that . . . Train me? You mean to be a . . .”

:Yes, dearest. A Herald.:
Arissa lowered her head and looked her chosen in the eye.
:A Gift like yours needs
guidance, and a pure heart. Even on the surface of your thoughts, I can see glimpses of what you were put through. But you were resolute to the end. The purity of your body and soul remained untouched despite the temptations. I would have sought you out for that alone, dearest.:

“You have the potential, love,” Anselm said, “Do you have the desire?”

I have the desire for a hot bath and a real bed
. Karinda thought.
We can negotiate from there.

:I like her already,:
said Ashlen, and the three had a quiet laugh at Karinda's blush.
:My apologies, young lady. I shan't listen further unless asked.:

Karinda shook her head with a smile. Anselm returned it and said, “Everything we have said is an offer only. It is for you to choose. What say you, Karinda?”

For the first time since the beginning of the ritual, Karinda took a step forward, and another, until she was close enough to rest a hand on Arissa's muzzle. Silently, the Companion sank to her knees. Karinda kept her hand on Arissa's neck until she had mounted. Arissa rose, and Karinda knew—as if she'd always known—that her Companion would never let her fall.

Karinda had nothing to say. Words weren't needed. She knew that from now on, there would be someone who would always know she was there.

Louisa Swann

Morning sun chased the night's chill from her bones as Liana eased herself down onto a gnarled root, ran a hand over her rounded belly, and stared up into the arching canopy overhead. Broad elm leaves, still spring-fresh and untarnished by the summer heat yet to come, glowed a light green against the spiky, dark fir and pine needles. The scent of damp earth and moss rose from the brook she'd just stumbled through, the burbling waters a peaceful counterpoint to the battle raging more than a day behind her.

The trees and bushes were a welcome change from the gorse-covered hills she'd passed through late yesterday. She felt like a spider clinging to its web, suspended between the peace flowing through the forest and the violence that had been her life ever since her fourteenth birthday, less than a year ago.

Liana sighed and rubbed her aching back. Peace was only an illusion, and though the skin-crawling stink of blood and death was far behind her, the clashing swords and screaming men reduced to faint background noise, even the toughest web could be torn, leaving the spider vulnerable.

A black-tailed squirrel chittered at her from a nearby tree as a raven swooped down and landed on her knee. The bird tilted its head to the side, peering at her first with one eye, then with the other before ruffling its ebony feathers and letting out a hoarse croak.

“Ya know as well as I do there ain't nothing in me pockets,” Liana told it. “Ya sussed out all the crumbs last night.”

The raven ruffled its feathers again, and Liana scowled. “Yer the one's got me into this mess, and now yer tellin' me ye never figgered out how we gonna eat?”

The raven's indignant croak almost brought a smile to Liana's lips. The movement felt strange, using muscles that hadn't been exercised in what felt like an eternity. She studied the mischievous bird, the almost-smile fading into blankness.

She hadn't planned on escaping when the mercenaries left the main camp. All the men, including the boys old enough to fight, had marched out to attack Valdemar, leaving behind their women and almost a thousand children of varying ages.

Liana had gone down to the river to fetch water for cooking. She'd been numb, eight months with child and exhausted beyond caring. Instead of filling the bucket in her hands, she'd found herself following a raven as it flew upstream, its ebony reflection rippling across the river's surface, then flattening out, then rippling again. When she finally realized how far she'd wandered, she'd almost panicked. Almost turned back.

But the raven had drawn her on.

Every step took her farther from camp. With each of those steps she could feel hard eyes watching her. With
each of those steps her shoulders had tensed, anticipating the blow of a heavy hand.

No one escaped the Tedrel mercenaries.

No one.

Until now.

A fly tickled Liana's arm, and she gently brushed it away in wonder. She no longer felt numb. Since waking this morning, everything seemed fresh and untainted.

Then she shivered. In spite of the peaceful setting, she wasn't safe. Not yet.

The raven lifted gracefully into the air as Liana shoved herself off the root, standing with a muffled groan. The child in her belly kicked hard enough to make her gasp. She growled low in her throat, torn between hating the beast growing within her and wanting to believe the baby she'd give birth to in another month or so wasn't really a monster. Fear washed over her as strong as a river current, the same fear that threatened to choke her every time she thought about the impending childbirth.

Fear snuffed the peace from the air like wind blowing out a candle. The shadows seemed deeper, more menacing, and the sun burned instead of soothed. Something splashed in the brook behind her. Liana's heart thudded against her ribs as she glanced over her shoulder, certain she would see her captor standing there, a predatory smile on his scarred face, his enormous fists clenched and ready to beat her into submission.

But Grunt wasn't there.

A doe stood ankle deep in the brook, its brown eyes soft and inquisitive. Liana hadn't seen a live deer since she'd been captured, and this one seemed small, almost delicate. The doe flicked its enormous ears backward,
then forward as it licked its muzzle, then dipped its head and drank.

Liana swallowed, trying to work moisture back into her suddenly dry mouth. She turned to waddle after the raven . . .

And found herself belly to muzzle with an enormous white horse.

Liana stumbled back, too startled to even shriek. Once again fear bubbled in her throat, a different fear this time, a fear born of Karsite tales, told around the cook fires, of white, blue-eyed demons that committed the most horrible acts . . .

The fear disappeared almost as quickly as it had come. If this . . . horse . . . truly was a demon, what it did to her couldn't be any worse than being Grunt's slave. Besides, it didn't look like a demon, in spite of the sapphire-blue eyes. Eyes that looked . . . intelligent.

A memory tickled at the back of her mind—a woman with hair the color of sunshine smiling down at her, weaving fantastic tales of Heralds and Companions . . .

The horse snorted, splattering the tenuous vision before Liana could grab onto it. The images disappeared into the fabric of her mind like water on a dry stone, leaving behind a vague sense of irritation, like an itch that couldn't be scratched.

“What ye on about then?” The words were out of Liana's mouth before she realized it. She cringed and clasped a hand over her mouth, startled by the tone of her voice.

She'd used that tone once after her capture. She'd been both terrified—and stupid. She should have known better, after seeing her father knifed and her mother burned alive. But she was only fourteen, barely old enough to be
married and still innocent in the ways of the world. The man who'd carried her off had kept her in his tent, isolated from the other children. When she'd dared to defy him, he'd grabbed her beneath one massive arm, carried her into the men's tent, and left her to be raped over and over and over until she felt like a piece of meat that had been tossed into a pack of ravenous dogs.

When he returned for her, there was no fight left. Only a limp body that had once belonged to a young girl who'd once dared to dream.

The horse stomped a hoof, then swung around as if to leave.

That's when she saw the raven perched on the horse's back.

Liana's mouth dropped open. This was all getting much too strange. Would she wake to find her escape had been only a dream, a nightmare sent to taunt her with the thought, the taste of freedom, only to have that freedom taken away as soon as she woke at daybreak? How could life be so cruel? That would be like showing candy to a child, then snatching the treat away as soon as the child reached for it.

She squashed the thought like an annoying insect. She'd stopped praying for help months ago. No matter how hard she'd prayed at first, no savior had shown up to save her from the clutches of those insatiable men, no miracle had delivered her from Grunt's violent desires.

There were a lot of younger children in camp, ignored by the mercenaries until they were old enough to train for battle or to breed, and those youngsters had tried to convince her that better times were coming, that she only needed to hang on and have faith. Liana had tried to believe as the children believed, that Ghost Horses
and White Riders would someday come and take them all to safety.

That belief, tenuous at best, died a slow death as her belly grew day by agonizing day, and Grunt's beatings got worse . . .

Puzzled, Liana stared at the white horse serving as the raven's new perch. Was this a Ghost Horse, then? Had the youngsters gotten it right after all?

Then she snorted. Startled, the raven flapped awkwardly off the horse's back and up into a tree. The horse looked at her over its shoulder, its blue eyes shining with something that almost looked like humor.

Liana shook her head at her own foolishness. The horse might be white, but it was only a horse, and if the raven was a White Rider, she'd . . . well, she didn't know what she'd do, but something . . .

The horse moved off down the path. After a moment, the raven glided down from the tree, taking up its position on the horse's back again. Then the bird croaked and tilted its head, watching her.

Liana sighed. “All right, then. I jes' hope ye have food waitin' wherever yer takin' us.” She waddled after the pair, feeling like a lumbering mule.

Luckily, they didn't have far to go. Liana frowned as she struggled up a hill, concentrating on putting one bare foot in front of the other, dully watching dust from the dry woodland path curl up between her toes with each step. The swirling dust mingled with the scent of vanilla and pitch oozing from the fir and pine trees towering over her. Pain stabbed her ribs with each breath, wrapping around her belly.

She paused beside the pair waiting for her at the top. Her feet felt as swollen as her belly, and she couldn't seem
to catch her breath. She put her hands on her back, stretching first forward, then back, trying to relieve the ache that wouldn't go away. Her head spun and her stomach growled. Not only did she need food, she needed water. She felt like a shriveled raisin. That couldn't be good for the baby.

The baby.

Why was she suddenly concerned about the monster growing in her belly?

Ignoring the question, she edged her way around the horse, trying to see why they'd stopped. They stood at the edge of a grassy clearing. There appeared to be some sort of cabin made of stone and rough-hewn wood nestled among the trees on the far side. It looked like someone was sitting in front of the door.

Waiting.

The raven rose into the air at the same time the horse broke into a run, racing across the clearing and coming to a stop just in front of the cabin. The raven perched on the thatched roof and looked back at her.

Liana gritted her teeth and moved forward through the knee-high grass in the meadow. The grass was soft and smelled of mint, with blades that bent under her feet, then sprang upright, leaving only a faint trace to show where she'd walked. She put her hand on the horse's shoulder as she passed and stopped without looking at the cabin's owner. Keeping her eyes on the ground, she chewed her lip in growing panic, trying not to grimace at the copper taste of blood.

Why didn't the man say anything? Why didn't he demand to know why they were here?

The ache in her back had grown into agonizing pain, and Liana wasn't sure how much longer she'd be able to
stand. “Beggin' yer pardon. But we be needin' a place to rest for the night, and . . .”

She'd almost said,
and the horse thought maybe you'd help us
, but that probably wouldn't make a good impression, and Liana didn't want to be turned away because the man thought she was crazy.

The man didn't say a word.

A sudden shove sent her stumbling forward, and Liana glanced up, horrified that she'd somehow offend . . .

She froze as she recognized the Tedrel sitting against the door, a man she'd seen off and on around camp. Dried blood caked his lean, dark face and he didn't appear to be conscious, though she could see his chest rise and fall beneath the leather vest. The stench of camp surrounded her in memories, wood smoke mingled with sweat and blood.

Terror billowed inside Liana's chest, blocking her throat until she couldn't breathe. This was a man she didn't really know, yet when she looked at his face and smelled the stink rising from his body, reality seemed to morph, and she saw Grunt instead, with his leering grin and greedy, pig-eyed stare.

Hate sparked deep in her chest, then burst into full flame, no longer smothered by the coat of numbness she'd wrapped herself in for so long. With a snarl, she lunged at the man, searching first his vest and then his trews for a knife, a weapon of some sort . . .

:He is not your enemy. Reneth is not a mercenary. He's a Herald from Valdemar.:

A chill raced down Liana's spine. The voice hadn't come from someone close by.

It had been inside her head.

Slowly, she turned, looking first at the raven staring
down at her, then around at the horse standing close to her back. The unconscious man groaned as the horse stomped an enormous front hoof, sending vibrations thundering through the ground.

Something was going on here, something she didn't understand. Liana sank down onto her heels and wrapped her arms around her stomach, so tired she could hardly think.

:He needs your help.:

Again the voice in her head, but this time she knew it had to be coming from the horse. He towered over her, piercing her with those startlingly blue eyes.

And there was no one else around except the unconscious man.

:Inside you'll find supplies, among which is an emergency kit. Bring it outside, and I'll tell you what to do.:

Liana staggered to her feet, heart fluttering in her chest like a wounded bird. She stepped around the unconscious Tedrel and pulled the latch string, letting the cabin door swing open.

Pain shot through Liana's belly, tightening her muscles. Her breath caught in her throat as she fought to stay on her feet. She needed to rest, to get off her feet . . .

The horse—the
Companion?
—snorted, and she automatically moved, taking a deep breath as the pressure around her belly lessened. She'd spent the last year surviving in a slave camp. There'd been no relief in her duties just because she was with child. She'd hauled water, cooked, washed dishes, done laundry, and carried around children hardly smaller than herself. No reason she couldn't put this
Herald
to bed.

She found a hunting knife inside along with several other tools, a fair supply of beans that looked to be good,
flint for lighting a fire, and the emergency kit filled with herbs and salves the Companion had asked for.