Read The Queen of Thieves: The Line of Kings Trilogy Book Three Online
Authors: Craig R. Saunders,Craig Saunders
Their makeshift tent stowed,
Asram unstrapped the babe from Rena's chest and wrapped the sleeping child
within his thick cloak. Under it, he could feel his sweat cooling against his
skin. It would be cold in there, for the child Tarn, but there was no other
way. Once he was underway again, he would sweat, and the child would warm in
his body heat.
The babe snuggled in
close, and Asram smiled down at Tarn. Tarn did not return the smile, because he
had fallen fast asleep. While he was looking at the baby, Asram did not notice
the look of revulsion that passed Crale's face in a rare moment of weakness on
the vampire's part.
Shawford tied
ever-present hemp sack around his shoulders, then hefted the unconscious girl
up into his arms.
To Asram the man
looked like he would snap, wiry though he was.
'You sure?' he asked
again. 'It's a fair walk.'
'I'm stronger than I
look,' said Crale, and set off, forcing Asram to keep up.
He was strong,
indeed, thought Fell as he followed in the man's footsteps. It was a hell of a
pace. After running all the way to Hullford and beyond, and then back again, it
was Asram Fell who was worried about his legs snapping. Crale looked like he
could go on all night, snow or not, freezing or not...nothing seemed to faze
the man.
Bastard, thought
Fell. Perhaps, he mused, somewhat unreasonably. Perhaps not. But still, he
resolved to watch Crale every step of the way.
His cargo was
precious indeed.
*
Beatrain the witch opened the
door to her hut well past midnight. She ushered in the man with the heavy beard
with a smile.
And the vampire, too,
entered with an irritating smile for her. The man, Asram, did not know. It was
not for Beatrain to let the thick, bearded man know that this dandy of a
travelling companion was a vampire.
And the vampire knew
it. That bastard was
smug
.
Rena, the sick girl,
was carried by the nightwalker. She'd seen him, of course, but she hadn't known
that the man and the girl were ignorant of the threat that walked with them in
human guise.
The Queen had long
plans. Beatrain did not know what they were - she was as much a thrall to the
Queen as any in the Witches' or the Thieves' Covenants. But she would not work
with a nightwalker under her roof. Never.
'Out, fool men,' she
said, giving no indication that she knew what the creature was. 'Out. Witching
is woman's work.'
'It snows hard, old
mother,' said the mortal.
'I need wood
chopping. You'll find a pile out back. That'll keep you warm enough,' she said.
'Leave the child with me, eh?' she added.
The men...one man,
one vampire...grumbled. The one with the beard laid the sleeping child down on
blankets that the old witch had prepared.
They grumbled some
more, but she was deaf to their complaints.
'Out,' she said
again, when the child had murmured and turned in his sleep and the girl was as
comfortable as she could be on the witch's old, hard bed.
The man and the fey
creature left.
Beatrain stared hard
at the old, crooked door and listened to their footfalls as they headed off in
search of her woodpile. She thought hard, too. What game did the Queen play,
letting such a precious package as these two into the care of a vampire?
She shrugged. Maybe
it was not for her to know.
She turned her gaze,
instead, to the sleeping child, and the girl - little more than a child
herself. The babe was hale, a chubby child with a soft round face. The
girl...the girl was pretty indeed. Curling blonde locks, and the purest skin
that Beatrain had ever seen on a woman child. The woman child who might have
been Queen.
'They would have sung
songs about you, girl,' said Beatrain to no one in particular.
The sounds of axe
work, somewhat deadened by the snow, came from outside.
She sighed deeply.
Then she turned to the business of witching.
*
When she was sure that there
would be no interruption, Beatrain leaned over the sickened girl and let her
magic free. It swarmed from her consciousness like tendrils of smoke, probing
at the girl's soul. Her white eyes leaked magic into the room, all the while
searching, testing the limits of what she could do to the girl.
She knew the ailment.
Red eye...fatal, left untreated, but an illness that only affected the
magically gifted. She'd never seen it worse than in the girl. She did not stir
at all. Beatrain could feel its sickly taint in the air of her hut.
Now that the men were
out of sight, she could use her power without fear. Her magic was a secret. It
had to be. Magic did not exist in Sturma. But there were still those that had
the old blood. The old powers.
Beatrain was one who
had such powers.
While she knew the
use of herbs and potions, her magic was not mere hedge magic, but came from the
soul, as true magic always did.
'Let's see, girl,'
she said under her breath. And with a sigh, she opened her eyes as wide as she
could and her magic, long hidden, came forth. The hut was filled with a sudden
glorious light. Beatrain's eyes, pure white, though not blind, not blind at
all, glowed brighter than the firelight in the hearth. The interior of the hut
was bathed in the glow of her magic...those tendrils of light expanded, and
finally travelled
within
Rena, and suddenly there was a brutal flash of
red light that came from Rena. The old witch was thrown across the room.
When she sat up she
felt blood on her thin scalp. Her head hurt, her back and hips hurt too.
She gritted her teeth
and pushed herself to her feet.
'It can't be,' she
said, limping closer to the girl on the bed. There was fear in her voice as she
said again, 'It can't be.'
She pulled back the
sleeping girls eyelids and gasped. Blood red, corner to corner. A little blood
trickled down the girl's cheek, as though she cried in her sleep. And maybe she
did, because she was surely living a nightmare...
The girl wasn't
merely sick. This wasn't red eye...
It was the blight.
*
The dream mist was getting
heavier, and though Rena was not walking, she could feel herself moving - being
drawn toward something just in the distance. As yet it was out of reach, and
she could see nothing past her old friend Tulathia, who stood in front of her,
but there was a call, and her soul could not deny it.
'He calls you, Rena.
He's calling you, and he's close, now. I can hold you here, but not forever.'
Tulathia reached out
and touched Rena's cheek.
'I always loved you
girl, but you were ever a dreamer. Times change. Things change. You've got to
be a fighter, now.'
'Madal's calling me?
Then there is no hope left?'
'Tsh, girl,' said
Tulathia. 'Dying, still...but he's close now. Close.'
'I can't fight
Madal.'
Tulathia's face
hardened. 'Really? Why ever not? What do you think I'm doing?'
Rena's surprise was
obvious. 'Gods, Tulathia...I'm not as strong as you!'
'You will be, girl,'
said a voice she didn't know. The mist parted and there was an old woman -
maybe as old as Tulathia, striding through the mist. She was striking because
her eyes were almost entirely white.
But she saw well
enough.
'Tulathia,' she
grinned. 'Should have known. Should have known.'
Tulathia grinned
back. Even old as she was, missing a few teeth, in that grin the years fell
away from Tulathia.
'I should have known,
too. Seems we've both been blind.'
'I wish there was
time, Tulathia, but I'll be seeing you soon enough. Girl child, come with me.
Now. No more time.'
Rena noticed then
that the old woman with the white eyes was bleeding. She was bleeding through
her skin, so much so that her whole body was red.
'Come with me girl.
Last chance.'
'Go!' said Tulathia.
'You've one chance, and Beatrain is it. Go!'
Rena weighed her
choices in an instant.
Tulathia trusted the
bleeding old woman. That much was clear.
But Tarn was so
close. Her King.
She glanced up, and
saw the great statues of the Guardian's gate - the gate to Madal's realm. Tarn
was so close. All those she loved were on the other side of those immense
gates.
And yet, it wasn't
everything she loved, was it?
Rena found the
strength she thought she'd lost. To one side and saw the great statues of the
guardian's gate. To the other side, the bleeding woman...
She took her chances,
realising that everything she loved was not beyond the gates. There was work
left to do. She closed her eyes, once, feeling the terrible pull, and then left
the gates and her only lover languishing behind them and ran to the old woman's
side.
Yes, she was a lover.
But she was a mother, too.
*
Asram knocked. He could see the
blinding light through the cracks in the door. Witch's work, woman's magic, and
frightening.
A woman's magic is a terrible thing,
he remembered Selana
telling him and Rena.
He was loath to
enter, but he heard screams, now. Fear held little sway over Asram Fell. Not
even fear of the unnatural.
Shawford stood beside
him. The gentleman seemed unperturbed.
'It's a foolish man
that enters a witch's lair unbidden,' said Shawford.
'Never said I was
smart,' said Asram, and pushed open the door with a firm hand.
Within the hut he was
forced to close his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them the light
remained dazzling - almost a solid force, so powerful that he had to push with
his weight against it, though it was nothing but light...
Nothing but light
,
he thought, and pushed all the harder.
Rena was screaming
and fighting and the old woman was holding her down, that terrible, beautiful white
light burning forth from her eyes and driving like lances into Rena's eyes. The
girl screamed like she was in pure agony, and the babe was on the floor,
screaming, too.
Shawford ran through
the wall of light as though it was nothing to him, though Asram still struggled
through it. Crale bolted past Asram and reached the witch woman. He pulled her
away from Rena - not gently, either. Asram heard something crack in the old
witch - maybe Shawford had broken something.
He did not care. He
cared for nothing but to reach Rena, to save her from the witch.
Rena continued to
scream, thrashing around on the bed, even though the white faded as the witch
hit the wall.
The witch slumped,
her white eyes slipped closed.
Rena ceased screaming
in an instant. Then she sat up.
Asram's shouted out,
almost a cry, a sound he'd never made in all his years as a killer. She had no
eyes. The old witch had stolen Rena's eyes.
*
'Gods, witch! What have you
done?! I'll kill you for this!'
Now the magic was
gone, Asram was not fighting against anything but his own rage. Asram's sword
was in his hand in an instant, his usual speed returned, but before he could
strike the old witch down dead, Rena cried out.
'Asram, no! No!'
He stayed his hand
for just long enough in his shock that Rena could still sound so...calm...
Her voice was soft
when she spoke again.
'The old mother saved
my life, Asram. She saved my life. Put away your sword.'
Shawford looked from
Asram, to Rena, to the old witch who was bleeding from her scalp and nursing
her wrist - broken, by Shawford's unnatural strength.
'It was the only
way,' said the old witch, breathing hard from exertion and pain. 'The only
way.'
'What in Madal's name
have you done?'
'I took her magic.
She was dying. She had the blight - an illness fatal only to mages and witches.
The magic lives in the eyes. I...excised the flesh...'
The witch's words
were soft, too, and panted, obviously in terrible pain from her broken wrist,
and perhaps other breaks, too, as she had been flung against the wall.
What kind of power
did she have, that she could take Rena's eyes?
Asram had no words.
Everything dried up, but his eyes. He sheathed his sword and ground his teeth.
He realised there was a tear on his cheek, looking at the beautiful woman
sitting up, now. Where once she had pale blue eyes, harsh eyes maybe, she had
dark sockets. There was no blood, no mess. A powerful magic lingered in the
room and made Asram's hair feel like it stood proud of his scalp. His beard
tingled with the energy still flowing.
'Rena...'
'It's OK,' she said.
She pushed herself from the bed and walked unerringly toward her child.
'I see just as well
as I ever did...old mother?'
'Beatrain.'
'Thank you. Thank you
for saving my life. Thank you. I've been shown what's important to me, and I
won't forget it. I won't.'
'I know you won't,
girl. You've a power in you that needs no magic. You know, now, yes?'
'I know much. I know
too much. I was gone a long time.'
'Two days,' said
Asram, feeling foolish to be speaking in the face of such power. Rena, a proud
young woman, a brave young woman, suddenly seemed...
regal
. She seemed at
peace in a way that Asram had never known, despite the loss of her eyes.
Perhaps, he thought, even more so because of it.
Rena took her babe
into her arms. Already the child ceased wailing and made satisfied noises that
were probably words in baby language.
'Two days?' asked
Rena. Asram nodded, and was surprised to find again that Rena saw, somehow, the
nod. Through what trickery, he didn't know. He remembered.
A woman's magic
is a terrible thing.
He had to admit to himself that he was frightened of
it in a way he'd never felt fear when facing a blade or bow.
So you know fear.
Now you know what it feels like.
'Time is short. I
know you're loath to, Asram, but we have no choice. We need to take horse. I
fear the time has come for the final battle. An old friend told me as much in
the mists before the gates.'
'You saw the gates,
Lady?' said Shawford. He sounded wistful. Hungry, Asram thought.
'I did. And if the
whole of Sturma falls, we'll all see them soon enough. I know now what's
needed. Horses. Time...Sturma hangs in the balance.'
'Then, can you ride?'
'Like I was born
a-horse,' she said with a smile. 'A witch never rides, but it seems I am no
witch...'
'Something more,'
said Beatrain, who had pushed herself up with great effort to bow before Rena.
'Something more.'
Rena walked calmly,
seemingly serene in whatever new knowledge it was that she had found before
Madal's Gates, and placed a kiss upon Beatrain's cheek.
'We will not meet
again, Old Mother, I think,' she said.
Although it obviously
pained her to do so, Beatrain placed both hands upon Rena's cheeks. 'You've
sight, now, where before you only had eyes. Do not waste it, eh?'
Rena nodded. Then she
turned to Crale and Fell, who watched. Crale seemed hungry for something,
still...a strange change had come over him at the mention of Madal's Gates.
Asram Fell looked at both women in something akin to awe.
'Are you sure you're ready?'
said Asram after a moment's pause. 'Should we rest a while?'
'I feel better than
ever,' she said. 'Like a weight has been lifted. Come, let's go.'
She kissed Beatrain
on her old dry cheek one last time. 'Thank you, old mother,' she said. 'And
thank the Lady, too...' she added, but under her breath, so that the men could
not hear.
*