Authors: Jane Fletcher
“Yeah, it was—” Another one spoke, a quaver in her voice. “But I don’t think I got it quite so bad, ’cause I was standing right behind you.”
“Boss, you can’t use it again… you can’t—”
“Stop whining. I’ll try to make sure you’re behind me. But just think what this means.” The leader laughed again. “We’re going to go and have ourselves a good time.”
“What are we gonna do with them?”
Alana guessed that she and Deryn were the subject of the outlaw’s question, but was too happy to care about the answer.
“Ah. We’ll leave them here. They can keep the Witch-Lord company.”
Footsteps clipped past her head. They echoed along the passage and faded. Only the boom of the doors shutting roused Alana from her daze. She sat up, shaking her head, still dumbfounded by her own stupidity. The talisman. Why had she ever trusted Orrin that it was for her benefit?
Deryn groaned beside her.
“How are you?” Alana asked.
“Fuck. What the…” Deryn gave a few deep breaths. “That helmet…it…I…”
“Don’t think about it.”
“I’m trying not to. Believe me.”
With the doors closed, it was even darker in the tomb, but slits near the ceiling allowed enough light in to still make out the surroundings. Alana helped Deryn slide across the floor until she was sitting with her back against the wall, and then settled down beside her.
“Okay. How about this as something to distract you—why didn’t he kill us?” Alana asked.
“Because he’s an evil bastard.”
“But—”
“Listen.”
The sound echoed down the tunnel, of something large landing against the door. Another thud followed, and a third. “They’re sealing us in?”
“Afraid so.”
Alana rested her forehead in her hand. “Damn. He’s been crueler than he knows.” She felt Deryn’s fingers slip around her other hand and squeeze.
“How so?”
“He took my talisman.”
“He’d take anything of value. But it…” Deryn trailed off, clearly confused.
“The talisman was given to me by Orrin, the king’s high counselor, after he’d blown away my defensive barriers. It helped me cope. It’s hard to explain, but it was like an emotional cushion. The world couldn’t hit me so hard while I was touching it.”
“Oh. Right. You…”
“What?”
“I’d noticed how you used to hold it. Does it mean that now you’re being bombarded by my…um…”
“No. The opposite. Maybe once, some time back, I needed the protection of the talisman, but what it had been doing, for”—Alana shrugged—“I don’t know how long, was blunting my senses. I couldn’t learn how to block the world out because the talisman wouldn’t let me see clearly enough what I needed to do. And I guess that doesn’t make any sort of sense to you.”
“Yes, it does. When you break your leg, you need a splint. But once you’ve healed you have to throw the splint away, even though it hurts, otherwise the muscles will wither and you’ll never be able to run.”
“That’s not quite right.”
“It’s the same principle.”
“Maybe. But anyway, now I know this, I could learn how to cope with people. I don’t need to hide in my cabin. In taking the talisman he’s given me the prospect of a whole new future, only to leave me with no future at all.” Alana squeezed Deryn’s hand. “I’m sorry you missed him with the dagger.”
“I am too.”
“You were surprised when you saw him, just before you threw it.”
“I recognized him. He attacked a party I was guarding, years back.”
“He didn’t seem to know you.”
“Probably not. I was just an apprentice at the time. But I’ve always hoped I’d bang into him again. His name’s Martez. He’s a renegade Iron Wolf, and he’s responsible for the death of somebody I cared about.”
“Not your family?”
“No. My first lover.”
“A long time ago.”
Deryn gave a soft laugh. “Yup, a long time. There have been quite a few since then, but I’d still like to avenge her.”
The dull booms of rocks being piled against the door stopped. A voice sounded, too muffled to make out any words, and then there was nothing but silence.
“Sounds like they’ve gone.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I guess there’s not much chance of anyone finding us here.” Alana sighed. “I doubt Regan will get many volunteers to come looking.”
“You and me going missing on Voodoo Mountain? She won’t get any. They’ll just write it off as the evil spirits being evil.” Deryn started to stand.
“You don’t need to move.”
“I’ll be okay. I’m bruised, nothing else. I can probably walk most of it off.”
Alana was not convinced. “That’s no reason why you can’t sit still.”
The light was just strong enough to show Deryn’s smile. “If you want a reason, how about this—Martez didn’t think to check if there was another way out.”
“I can’t see one.”
“True, but either we can give up, or we can look for a secret passage. I know which way my vote goes.” Deryn tapped her knuckles on the wall and then limped on a step.
Alana shook her head, smiling, then levered herself to her feet and joined in.
Despite three hours of poking and prying, the search turned out to be fruitless. As the daylight faded, they again settled down by the wall. Thirst and hunger were starting to niggle. The tomb was well insulated by the rock, but the temperature was bitterly cold, and only likely to get colder through the night.
Alana shivered. “I wish we had a blanket.”
“I wish we had food and a water flask. In fact, I rather wish we weren’t here at all. But wishing isn’t going to help us.” Deryn sighed. “The best I can think of is we huddle together for warmth. As long as you don’t mind huddling close to me.”
Alana opened her mouth, and then closed it again, but why not say it? “I’d happily snuggle up with you, even if it was a blazing hot summer’s day. I’m demon-spawn and you want nothing to do with me. But so many times since the Night of the Lost, I’ve wished that the fire at the stable hadn’t happened. That you and I had spent the night together. I know it’s wrong of me to wish it, because it isn’t what you’d have wanted if you’d known the truth, but—”
Deryn’s finger on her lips halted the flow of words. “I don’t mind you wishing it. It’s what I wanted too. What I still want.”
“But…”
The light was so weak that Alana heard more than saw Deryn lean toward her. Their lips touched in the softest of kisses, but even so, Alana knew immediately that it was not going to work. Her mouth was already so dry that their lips stuck together and Deryn winced as they parted.
“Ah, sorry. I’ve got a cut lip.”
Alana laughed softly. “And a load of bruises. An empty stomach. And all we’ve got to lie on is a very cold stone floor.”
“It’s not looking good for a night of passion.”
“No. Just sit by me. Hold me. That would be nice.”
“Okay.” Deryn adjusted her position. “There. Comfy?”
“Yes. Very.” Alana paused. “Well, as comfy as can be expected, all things considered.”
Alana twisted around slightly, placing her hand on Deryn’s thigh and feeling the warmth of firm muscle. Deryn’s shoulder was equally hard, but still so very good to rest her head on. “That first morning, after you’d stayed at my cabin. Why did you run away?”
“Habit.”
“What sort of habit?”
“Maybe habit isn’t quite right.” Deryn paused, as if weighing up her next words. “I told you my first lover was killed by Martez. On her grave, I swore I’d never let anyone else get close to me. After what had happened to my family, it seemed the safest thing.”
“I’d have thought it was a hard promise to keep.”
“Running away a lot helped.”
“So it became a habit?”
“Except it was different with you. I told you about my family, how they died, and I’d never spoken to anyone else about them before. That next morning, I was confused, but I also think, deep inside, I knew if I got to see much of you, I was going to break my promise.” Deryn’s arm around Alana tightened. “You’ve got to me, like no one else. I don’t know if we could have a serious relationship. I’ve never had one before, so I don’t know what they feel like. But you’ve got your hooks in me, and I don’t want to run away anymore.”
“Just as well, because you’d have a bit of trouble doing it right now.”
“True. I’ve got a feeling I’m going to be with you for the rest of my life.” Deryn gave a rueful sigh. “Damn.”
“What?”
“Even though we’re talking about days rather than years, it sounds good.”
“Yup. I was thinking that too.” Alana curled closer into Deryn’s body. Given the circumstances, it was ridiculous to feel happy, but she did.
The light faded completely. Alana’s eyes were closing. She was half asleep when a shudder ran through Deryn, waking her.
“Alana.”
“What?”
“Can you see anything?”
“It’s too dark. I…”
The prickle of goose bumps ran over Alana’s skin, with ice flowing after. A thin faint line of blue danced before her. She rubbed her eyes, but it would not go.
“It’s coming from the stone coffin, isn’t it?”
“I think so.”
“The legend said the Witch-Lord would rise again.” Deryn sounded nearly as alarmed as Alana felt.
“It’s just a story.”
“Part of the story was true.”
“The dead stay dead. My family may not know everything about magic, but I’m sure…” Alana clenched her teeth. Just how sure was she? Her heart was pounding.
“Maybe he wants his weapons back.”
“Then he needs to go after Martez.”
“The light’s getting brighter.”
“Or is it our eyes playing tricks?”
“I don’t know.”
Time trickled by as Alana sat, staring at the light. Even with it, the room was now so dark that she could see nothing else. Sometimes the light seemed to swell, sometimes it faded to almost nothing. The line wobbled and swam through her vision. Logically Alana knew it was tiredness. The light was unchanging, and if the Witch-Lord had not risen in the first hour, he probably was not going to rise at all. Exhaustion washed over her, threatening to sweep her away. Yet if she gave in, what nightmares would she endure?
In the end, Alana did not get the choice. The blue line finally dissolved in the blackness of sleep.
*
The wayside fountain delivered a steady stream into its stone basin. Deryn dipped her tin mug in, raised it to her lips, and swallowed, but her mouth stayed dry. A closer check on the mug revealed the wide crack in the bottom. Deryn sighed and put the mug down. She bent to scoop up water in her cupped hands, but now the basin also was empty and the fountain had dried up. It was getting beyond a joke. She was really quite thirsty.
Deryn jerked awake and opened her eyes. The taunting dream faded, but things were not going to get any better. Before long, hallucinations would plague their waking hours as well.
During the night, she had slid down the wall and now lay on her back on the cold floor. Above her, a faint hint of daylight misted the ceiling of the tomb. As far as she could guess, she had slept most of the morning away, a consequence of staying awake half the night, staring at the blue light from the stone coffin. The multitude of cuts and bruises had made getting to sleep all the more difficult, as did the guilt at her failure.
I’m sorry, Shea. I’d have killed the bastard for you if I could. Should have spent more time practicing my aim.
Alana lay curled beside her, a soft weight on her shoulder. Deryn brushed her dry lips across Alana’s forehead. Another source of guilt. What had she been thinking of? When she had seen the first clues that thieves were at work, she should have gone back at once. Nevin and Ross might not be any help, but not everyone in the region was so useless. Regan would have loved organizing another, bigger, better-armed citizens’ posse.
Was it just that I wanted to spend a day alone with you and managed to convince myself it would be okay?
Deryn grimaced at the thought. But maybe, just maybe, she could make amends.
Deryn eased herself from beneath the head on her shoulder, but the cold had stiffened her bruises, making her clumsy, and despite her attempt to be careful, the movement was enough to wake the woman beside her.
Alana groaned and rubbed her face. “So yesterday wasn’t just a bad dream.”
“Nope. None of it. I’m afraid.”
“How about the light from the sarcophagus? It’s not there now. Did I see it or did I fall asleep and dream it?”
“The stone coffin? That was real. I saw it too.”
“What do you think it was?”
“I’ve got an idea, but rather than guess, I’m going to find out.” Deryn stood, wincing at the complaints from her injuries. “I’m going to open the coffin.”
Alana sat up, looking startled. “You’re going to do what?”
“I want to find the source of the light. Whatever was shining through the crack beneath the lid.”