Текст книги "Warsworn"

Автор книги: Elizabeth A. Vaughan

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

cHAPTER 6

“So. I will be the first of the Plains to face this enemy.”

Epor put his warclub on the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. He began to fumble with the buckles of his armor, but his hands were shaking badly. Isdra stepped close, reaching out to help him. He was already sweating heavily, and I could see the pain in his eyes from the headache. I ground a dose of lotus as fast as I could. Isdra was grim as she released the straps, and helped him off with the heavy leather. Epor used his finger to lift her chin and forced her to meet his eyes. “You fear this.”

Isdra moved her head aside. “I fear nothing.” She tugged his tunic up and over his head.

“You fear this, Isdra.” Epor spoke again, his voice soft and insistent.

Isdra stopped what she was doing, and looked at him. “I am Isdra of the Fox, warrior of the Plains. I fear nothing.”

Epor put his hands on her hips to pull her close. “But you fear this.”

Isdra sighed, and her hands grew still. “Epor—”

He put his finger over her mouth and gently rubbed it on her lower lip. It was a private moment but I could not look away. Finally, Isdra let out a puff of air against his finger. “I fear this,” she admitted.

Epor nodded, and sat down heavily on the bed. “Is that so hard to say?” Epor looked at her calmly. “A true warrior faces the very thing he fears, yes?”

Isdra growled. Epor pulled her close, laying his head on her breast. “I will defeat this enemy, and Joden will craft a song to my glory.”

“You’d best. Or Joden will sing only of our deaths. That will please Iften no end, and hurt our tribes and our Warlord.”

“How so?” I asked.

Isdra hesitated for just a moment. “We are bonded, and as such are valued by the tribes. We spoke of this before. For Keir to lose us in less than honorable combat would shame him.”

“Truth.” Epor hung his head down, as if gathering strength. He lifted his head, and looked at Isdra. “But all will be well, fire of my heart.”

“Shut up, and help me get these clothes off of you.” Isdra snapped.

Epor chuckled. “Heyla, Lara. Would you hear a tale of the strength of my bonded?”

Isdra flushed as she knelt at his feet to unlace his boots.

Curious, I paused in preparing the doses. “Tell me, Epor.”

“Well, this one, she says to me that we’re to bond. Being a wise man, I agreed to her demands, not eager to face her anger.”

Epor grabbed the bottom of his tunic, but got it stuck trying to pull it off. Isdra rose to help him. “So, on the day of bonding, Isdra sat first for the spiral to be woven in her ear. All had gathered, and my Isdra sat, so beautiful and so determined not to utter a sound.”

Epor’s head disappeared as Isdra pulled off his under tunic. His voice was muffled by the shirt.

“Does it hurt, Epor? The weaving?” I asked as I mixed the lotus in water.

“The piercing hurts, for it takes time for the ear to heal. Once the holes are in, it’s not so bad. But my Isdra didn’t flinch or cry out, for she is a Warrior of the Plains, strong, tough, and proud.”

Isdra knelt at his feet to finish removing his boots. “It was to honor you.”

“And I was honored.” Epor took a deep breath, and I gave him a sharp look. He was suffering, I could see that. I offered him the cup. He took it, and drank it down quickly, with only a light wrinkling of his nose at the taste and continued where he’d left off. “It was then my turn. I sat before the weaver, and at the first touch of his needle…” He paused dramatically, “I screamed like a baby.”

I laughed at the image. “Really?”

“Oh yes,” Isdra sat back on her heels. “He carried on, weeping and wailing, saying that to bond with me was worth any pain, any suffering. He had the weaver and the watchers and the witnesses all laughing so hard they cried.”

“Who can I mock, if I cannot mock myself?” Epor asked hoarsely.

“I will let no one mock you, my brave warrior.” Isdra’s voice broke as she stood and finished stripping Epor. His energy was waning before my eyes. Never before had a patient weakened so visibly, so fast, even as the beads of sweat gathered on his face. I’d lost the others. I’d not lose him.

Isdra folded his clothes off to the side as I helped Epor settle into the bed. She went to place his weapons at his side, but Epor stopped her. “No.”

She looked at him, startled, then over at me. I shook my head as well. “If he raves…”

She gave a sharp nod, and placed the weapons, all of them, in the far corner by the hearth. The warclub she set down last, as if to guard the others.

“You must bind me.” Epor’s voice was low and rough.

Isdra balked at that. “I can control—”

“No. Take no chances with this enemy. Remove your own weapons, Isdra. For I am a dangerous and clever opponent.”

Isdra nodded, unable to answer. My own throat closed as we tied his wrists to the bed frame, down at his sides. He insisted that we secure his feet as well. Only after testing the strength of the bonds did he relax onto the bed, his eyes closed. We covered him with a blanket.

Isdra moved off, removing her own weapons as instructed. I gathered the necessary vials, and pulled two buckets of water closer to the bed. I wrung out a cloth and started wiping his face and chest. Isdra did the same. We were silent for a few moments, when Epor’s eyes fluttered open. They were vague and unfocused, telling me that the lotus was starting to work. He focused on Isdra and smiled. “You are my bonded, my heart’s fire, and I am yours, to the snows and beyond.”

“Do not speak of the snows.” Isdra whispered as she wiped his chest.

“You must promise me…” Epor cleared his throat. “You must promise me to remain at the Warprize’s side for as long as she needs you.”

Isdra looked off, caught my eye and looked at the floor.

“No.” Epor tugged slightly at his bonds and Isdra reached out to cover his hand with hers. “Promise me.”

She leaned down, her lips close to his ear. “You must fight this, Epor.”

“I will.” He gave her a smile, a far shadow from his normal grin. “But you must promise.”

Isdra closed her eyes. For a long moment, the only sound was Epor’s breathing. Then her grey eyes opened, and she nodded slowly. “I promise.”

I should have listened to the old healer, should have heeded her warning. She was right. It was too fast. Too fast for the medicines to take effect. Too fast to break the fever. Too fast for us to be able to balance his humors, replace his fluids.

It started well. The lotus seemed to calm him. But the Sweat was a vicious enemy, and as fast as we eased his fever the heat would rebuild in his skin. We labored hard, changing bedding, and using fresh water and rose oil to wipe him down. At first he’d respond to both of us, obeying our commands to swallow. But as the fever built, his eyes would only open at Isdra’s call, and they held no awareness. Even that reaction failed in time and Isdra could no longer rouse him.

But worse was to come.

“Where is Isdra?” Epor mumbled, testing the restraints.

Isdra leaned closer. “I’m here, Epor.”

Epor’s eyes opened a crack, but his gaze slid right past her to me. “Where is my bonded? Why isn’t she here?”

Isdra sucked in a breath, but I moved forward to answer. “She’s right here, Epor.”

“No, no, she’s gone, my bonded has left me,” Epor started to fight the restraints with a passion, shaking the bed. “Where has she gone?”

Isdra was speechless, white and shivering. I touched her arm. “It’s the fever, Isdra. He’s raving.”

“His eyes are open…” She looked at me in doubt.

“But he does not see.” I reached for the water and cloths. “Keep talking to him, Isdra.”

She jerked her head in agreement, but the pain never left her eyes. We kept talking, both of us, trying to convince Epor that Isdra was there, that she would never leave him. But he couldn’t be comforted or reassured. He became very agitated, demanding that we release him so that he could find her. It broke our hearts to hear the pain in his voice.

Worse still, he fell into the stupor without realizing that she was there. Isdra’s tears did not start until Epor lapsed into the lethargy and would not wake. Still, we tried to force liquids into him, with no success. In the end we sat in silence, each holding a hand. Every breath was a painful rasp, each inhale a victory, every exhale a fear.

At the last, Epor opened his eyes as he drew in a final rasping breath. Isdra leaned over, stroking his head. He focused on her face, and gave her a weak smile, closed his eyes, and exhaled. The beat of his heart under my fingers stopped even as his breath faded.

Isdra stared at me, the knowledge building within her until her face crumbled and her eyes closed.

I sagged back on my heels, sweat beading on my forehead, weak with anger and fear and a headache pounding between my eyes. What killed a healthy man in so few hours? What had I done wrong?

“Epor.” Isdra’s voice cracked. I looked over as she took his right hand in hers and waited for a response. When none came, she reached over for his left hand. “Epor of the Badger.”

“Isdra, he’s—”

I cut myself off as she nodded, and moved so that she could grasp his left foot. She called his name again, tears running down her face. The silence echoed as she grasped his right foot, and drew in a deep breath that ended in a sob. “Epor, my soul’s delight, beloved, please.”

My weeping was her only answer.

She knelt at his feet, her head bowed, for a long moment. When she finally lifted her head, her face was streaked with tears. With effort, she rose and went to her weapons and pulled her dagger, sharp and bright. She returned to cut his bonds, freeing him from the restraints. Once that was accomplished, she eased down to kneel by Epor’s head. She stroked his hair and placed her lips at his ear. “I’ll see you beyond the snows, my heart’s fire.”

She sat back, and turned her streaked face to me. I offered a cloth, but she refused. “The wind will take them, Warprize.”

I used the cloth to wipe my own tears, trying to bring myself under control and then sat working the cloth between my hands.

We might have sat like that for hours, awash in grief, but the babe wailed from her blankets, and kicked with her feet. Isdra turned her head dully, then rose to see to her needs. I remembered my other patient, and turned to his bed, only to find that he had died as well, unnoticed and untended. Guilt brought more tears to my eyes as I pulled the blanket over his face. I’d never once looked at him after Epor had taken ill. Some healer I was. All my patients, dead at my hands. An entire village, gone. I lowered my aching head into my hands and wept for the loss and my incompetence.

I could hear Isdra chanting to the babe even as I cried. Those low tones were a comfort, and I managed to get myself under control as I listened. My head hurt too much to think beyond the horror of the last few hours. But eventually I felt cool fingers on my neck, and I let Isdra pull me up and over to the hearth. She settled me in the chair, and wiped my face with a cool cloth, Once I’d had something to drink, she sat back on her heels and looked at me solemnly.

“The babe?” I croaked.

“Well.” Isdra continued to study me silently.

I let my gaze drift over to the bodies on the beds. I felt so helpless, with no energy left to deal with the tasks ahead. I slumped in the chair, and closed my eyes in despair.

“The enemy has you, Lara.”

It took me long moments for Isdra’s words to sink in, and even longer for me to open my eyes and face the truth. I stared at her, numb. She reached over, and wiped my face with a cool wet cloth. I put my hand up to feel my own forehead. “I’m sick?”

She nodded, her eyes resigned.

So. I drew in a deep breath and straightened in the chair. “You are well? And the babe?”

“Yes.”

“You must take the babe and go. Bathe both of you in vinegar. Stay away from the others for forty days, Isdra.

Forty days. If you and the babe are still well, it will be safe to rejoin the others after forty days. You understand?”

She tilted her head. “And you, Lara?”

I drew a breath, then used my sleeve to clear my eyes. “You leave, and set fire to the village. That will take care of the dead, Isdra. Forty days, you understand?”

She stared at me, not asking the question I had not answered.

I sobbed, the pain in my head building. “Isdra, I ask for mercy. Kill me.”

“That is not your way, Lara.” She frowned, clearly unhappy with my request.

“I’ll not risk you or the babe, or any of the others. Grant me mercy, Isdra, then burn the village and leave.” I drew in a shuddering breath. “I command it. As the Warprize, I order—”

Isdra stood. “I will do what must be done, Warprize.” She helped me out of the chair. My head had started to pound, and it was hard for me to think. I leaned on her gratefully, my feet made clumsy by the pain.

She took me out into the square and sat me by the well. The cold stone felt good on my back. I blinked in the sunlight. Isdra knelt at my side, reached out and pulled the damp hair off my face. “You must be sure about this, Lara.”

“Isdra, grant me mercy. Kill me, take the babe and flee. But promise me,” I clutched at her arm. “Promise me that you will stay apart. Keep Keir safe for me, Isdra. Please?”

“So.” She set her shoulders back, as if relieved and grateful for the task. “You will be wild with fever soon. I will bind you here, to keep you from wandering.” She gripped my wrists firmly and I watched as she bound them together with a bandage. Once that was done, she lifted my bound wrists to the windlass and secured them to the stout wood. I closed my eyes, holding my wrists high to make it easier for her.

She knelt before me again. “I must prepare the village, Lara and then do what must be done. You understand?”

I bit my lip. “Do you promise?”

She nodded. “I will keep to my oaths.”

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the stones, listening as her steps faded off. The only sound was my ragged breathing. Even the larks were gone. But in the back of my head, I could hear the litany, a prayer for the dying and the dead. It seemed to ring in my ears as if I could hear the words echoing in the temple as they’d been chanted at my father’s bedside …

Gracious Goddess, Lady of the Moon and Stars, be with me in the hour of my death… Oh, I was going to die and never see my Keir again, never ask his forgiveness or feel his body moving in mine. Tears overcame me, and I wept at my loss, the loss of his love, of what might have been between us, he was so angry with me, so very angry…

Gracious Goddess, Lady of the Moon and Stars, full of forgiveness, forget my offenses and my flaws… I’d made so many mistakes, and my pride had made me think I could deal with this illness and treat these people and now they were all dead and it was all my fault, my fault, oh forgive my arrogance and…

A sound and I blinked open blurry eyes to see Isdra place a large basket at my side. The babe lay sleeping inside, tucked in with extra swaddles and her feeding cup. Such a lovely babe, whose name was lost now, because I didn’t want to think that I could fail. I blotted my tears with my sleeve and let my head fall back again.

Gracious Lady of the Moon and Stars, full of mercy, see my true repentance … for I deeply regretted my er-rors. Don’t let anyone else suffer for my mistakes, oh please, keep Marcus and Keir, oh my Keü, and Othur and Anna safe, dearest Goddess, please… my people and his people… safe… the pounding was getting worse, my clothes were drenched yet I burned. I closed my eyes for what felt like hours, but dragged them open to see Isdra as she moved from building to building, opening doors and arranging fuel of any kind in the entryways.

Gracious Lady of the Moon and Stars, full of kindness, incline your ear to my plea, and She was, for I could see in the gathering dusk the first twinkling of a star over the mountains. But I couldn’t keep my eyes open to see Her gift because the sweat was in my eyes and burning them. I tried to wipe them on my sleeve again, but the cloth was soaked.

Gracious Lady of the Moon and Stars, full of glory, guide me to a place in your garden and let me dwell there in peace. There’d be problems, I knew. My death would create such problems for Othur and the Kingdom. The cousins would try to claim the throne, and all would suffer thereby. But I couldn’t find the strength to care, I’d be in the garden of the Goddess with Father, and we’d abide in the peace of that place together. And Keir, my Keir, would be safe, wild and free on his Plains. I smiled as I saw him mounted on his black horse, galloping in the sun, wild and free and safe, oh Goddess, please let him be safe and well.

At some point, I faded out and awoke to find Isdra arranging Epor’s body on a pyre that she had made of a table from one of the homes. She placed him close to the well, as if in a place of prominence. She was arranging his hair, and seemed to be speaking but I wasn’t sure. What I could see was that she had strapped Epor’s war-club to her back. I caught my breath at the sight.

Finally she came to my side, and knelt to offer me water, and wipe my face. She took a long drink as well. “Almost done, Lara.” She stood, and seemed to look around with satisfaction. “A fitting tribute to my Epor.” She looked down. “I have only to light the fires, Lara. Be ready.”

“You… you are sweating.” Fear bubbled in my chest.

“With effort, nothing more.”

Gracious Lady of the Moon and Stars, full of glory, embrace my soul. I closed my eyes, content. All my beloved family and friends would be safe, and Keir, my beloved Keir, he too would be well and strong. Tears flowed and I gave up fighting my sobs. He’s been so angry.

Isdra stood before me, a silver figure in the moonlight. It was darker now, and I couldn’t really see her face. But I could see the pitch torches in her hand as she stood over me, burning brightly. She ran off, the flames leaving a trail of light and sparks behind her. The flames flared from the buildings as she passed, throwing the torches into the building. Flames danced on the edge of my vision.

Sweat stung my eyes, and I struggled to keep them open to see her standing by Epor’s pyre. She threw back her head, warbling a cry, perhaps the cry of a hawk, or maybe just of her sorrow and threw the torch.

The pyre exploded with light, and the smoke was fragrant with herbs that she must have found in the healer’s home. I coughed as the smoke reached me, closed my eyes. Almost over. Safe, they were safe. Gracious Lady of the Moon and Stars, full of glory, embrace my soul.

“Warprize.”

I found the strength to open my eyes to see Isdra kneeling next to me. Epor’s dagger was in her hand. My eyes focused on the bright reflections dancing on the blade.

“I’m ready, Isdra.”

She gave me a sad smile, and a nod. I closed my eyes as I felt her hand on my arm, and tilted my head to expose my neck. Gracious Lady of the Moon and Stars, full of glo—

cHAPTER 7

Except Isdra had other plans.

The blade sliced the binding that tied me to the windlass. She had me tossed over her shoulder and the babe’s basket in her hand before I understood what she was about.

The flames were rising all around us, crackling at the dry wood, sparks jumping to the sky. Smoke was filling the air. I was gasping from the smoke and the realization that I was still alive when Isdra spun on her heels and ran for the main gate.

“Isdra, NO!” I cried out, struggling against her hold, beating on her back with my bound hands. She didn’t understand the risks, she had to stop. Isdra grunted when I struck, but her pace never faltered.

The gate must have been open, for she took me through it with ease. The light of the flames was replaced by a cool, velvety darkness. I couldn’t see for a moment, but I didn’t have to.

Keir was there.

All I could see was the ground, and Isdra’s legs through blurry eyes. But I sensed him, standing there, waiting just beyond the gate. I blinked through the sweat as he took me from Isdra’s shoulder and held me in his arms. For a timeless moment I rejoiced at the feel of his body as he drew me in close. Joy filled me at the sight of his face, but only for a brief instant before horror followed in its wake. “What are you doing?” I whispered.

Keir didn’t answer, just looked at me, a strange light flickering over his stone face.

“Oh no, no, Keir, beloved, why?” The sickness in my heart had nothing to do with the fever that racked my frame.

The light came from torches that Marcus was holding, one in each hand. Isdra had put the basket down and was dragging brush in front of the gates. Keir moved back a few steps as Marcus began to set fire to the tinder.

The babe fussed, and Isdra saw to her before she took the other torch from Marcus and moved off to fire more brush that was off to the sides. Even in my fevered state I could see that tinder had been set along the length of the walls.

Frantic, I struggled to get Keir to release me, but he just tightened his hold. His strong arms didn’t budge, impervious to my struggles. “No, Keir, don’t do this.” I tried to push at him with my bound hands. “I wanted you safe, please, please—”

“Hush.” His voice was soft, but firm. He tucked my head under his chin. I sagged against his chest, taking comfort from his strength for just a moment. But guilt and anger made me renew my struggle. He didn’t understand the danger, didn’t know what he was doing.

“Hush,” he repeated, his voice warm and solid in my ear. His grip tightened to hold me still. “Save your strength, Lara. Fight the enemy, not me.”

I cursed him then, using every phrase and word I could think of.

“What does she say?” Marcus’s questions made me realize I was yelling in Xyian. I slumped back, all my strength spent, struggling to catch my breath. The heat of the flames, of Keir, no, of my own body was building and I burned. I put my head back against Keir’s chest, too exhausted to even weep.

“She is displeased.” Keir’s voice was dry. “Isdra, report.”

The voices around me continued as we moved. I wasn’t strong enough to care. Everyone in the village had died, and now Keir had condemned himself and Marcus.

Isdra’s voice rose and fell as we moved. I could feel Keir’s muscles tense, holding me tight as he covered the ground with his long stride. The scent of his skin eased my headache. His voice would reverberate in my ear as he questioned Isdra, but I couldn’t concentrate enough to understand what they were saying. Just as well, I didn’t really want to hear a retelling of events or of the deaths. I kept my eyes closed so that I couldn’t see Keir’s face as he learned of my failure.

Then we were within a tent, and I was lowered onto a bed. Warm hands moved over me. I opened my eyes to see Keir beside me. Isdra was still talking, repeating the portion of her tale that spoke of the steps I had taken with my patients.

“Lotus? You are sure it was lotus?”

I jerked at the sound of Gils’s voice. It couldn’t be, and yet when I slowly turned my head, he was there, with his red hair and gangly arms, with healing supplies on a table next to him and a very determined look on that freckled face.

“No…” I whispered, and turned back as Keir removed my boots. “Oh, Keir, why have you done this? Why?”

Keir looked up, his eyes glittering. “I will not lose you, Lara.” His voice was strong and urgent. “Fight this, Lara. Fight for me. For us.”

A sound came from Isdra, and I shared her grief at hearing the same words she’d spoken to Epor but hours ago. I looked at her with eyes clouded with tears and sweat. “Isdra, why? Why do this?”

“My Warlord commands, and I obey.”

Anguished, I dropped my aching head to my chest and let a sob escape me. Keir knelt down beside me, and cut the binding on my wrists. “Oh Keir, you should have listened. You stupid man.”

But Keir simply continued to undress me. “I listened, Lara. Iften has charge of the army, and they are about a mile off. We will remain isolated from them. We will care for you until you are well enough to continue to the Plains. All will be well, fire of my heart.”

“Drink this.”

I looked into Gil’s face. He stood there with a cup, trying to look so firm and competent. As I had felt the first time I’d dealt with a patient by myself. I licked my dry lips, looked at the cup, and then back at his youthful face.

“It’s lotus.” He gave me the best stern look he had. “Drink.”

I raised a trembling hand but Keir took the cup, sat next to me and urged me to drink. Not that it took much urging. I welcomed the drowsiness that the lotus would bring. As soon as the cup was empty, Keir finished stripping me, and urged me flat on the bed beneath a rough blanket. “She’s sweating, Gils.”

“I will see to her.” Gils replied, the barest trace of trembling in his voice. “We will need more water.”

“The stream is close. We can get more easily.” Marcus answered, gathering a few buckets. He paused to look at me with concern. “If the Sweat is as bad as you say, maybe we should cut her hair. It will be hard to keep clean, and will tangle.”

“No,” Keir answered softly. He was beside me, running his fingers through my hair, pulling it off my face. “No need. I’ll braid it for her. I’ll not see it cut.”

Marcus snorted, and left the tent. Isdra followed, but not before I caught a glimpse of her face, and saw her naked grief. Gils was busy getting his cloths ready. I stared up at Keir as he worked his fingers through my hair, and cradled my head in his hand. His fingers gently massaged my scalp, easing the headache even further. Or maybe it was the lotus starting to take effect. I seemed to be floating slightly, but I wanted to tell him. Sorrow filled my heart, and my eyes welled with tears. I’d killed him, my strong, handsome lover, killed him with my pride and arrogance. I reached out blindly, and felt his cool hand grasp mine. I concentrated, trying to focus as he lowered his face to mine. “Lara?”

“It’s all my fault.” I whispered carefully. “I’m so sorry, so sorry.”

“Lara,” his voice was soft and urgent, but the lotus pulled me away.

“Papa? Papa!” It was so hot, so dark, where was Papa? The garden was withered and the sun seared my skin. I ran along the path, trying to find Papa. Xymund was behind me, so angry, so furious. He was going to kill me. I cried as he caught me, and struck out at my attacker. Papa’s voice cut through the fire, but he wasn’t talking to me, wouldn’t hold me. What had I done, that he was angry with me ?

“Papa? What is’Papa’?”

“A name they call male theas. She thinks you’re her father.”

“Her thea?”

“Talk to her. Get her to drink something.”

“Hush, Lara.” Papa’s voice sounded odd somehow, but it was deep and gentle and his cool hands touched my face. “Be easy. I am here, little one.” A cup clinked against my teeth. “Drink.”

I swallowed as the water flowed into my mouth, easing the dryness within. I let myself relax back into Papa’s arms, soothed. I was safe, safe, Xymund couldn’t get me here. The flames could still hurt me though, and Papa rocked me in his arms.

But when had Papa been so badly burned?

I stood by the well in the village square, which was silent and dark. As I looked about, I saw the morning larks laying on the ground, their little legs stiff, their songs silenced. As I covered my mouth in horror, the doors of the

buildings opened, and the dead began to emerge. They were moving slowly, murmuring over and over, stumbling toward me, their eyes glittering with rage.

The door of the shrine opened and Epor stepped out, his gentle, smiling face easing my fears. I called out to him, and he started toward me. But as he grew closer, his face contorted into a snarl and he joined the villagers in their chant. “You killed us. You killed us.”

“No, no, no, oh, Goddess, forgive me, please forgive me, Epor.”

I pressed against the well, feeling the windlass cut into my back. They kept coming, pressing in, chanting their accusations. Rahel stood there, her arms raised, cursing me in a voice that rose to the skies.

I turned, looking into the well, seeking escape. But the dead were there, too, their arms lifted as if to pull me into the depths. I cried out again, terrified and looked back to see Epor before me, his club raised to strike me down. “Epor, please don’t hurt me!”

“Epor would never hurt you, Lara.”

“She can’t hear you, Isdra.”

Terrified, I sought a way to the gate. But the dead had piled themselves at my feet, their dead and dry carcasses pressed against my legs like cord wood. Xymund stood before me, the madness dancing in his eyes, with a flaming brand in his hand. “Die, whore.”

He threw the torch at my feet, The flames flared up, I cried out…

I burned.

The castle was dark, but the stones were cool under my feet. I welcomed the silence and the quiet. But as I walked the halls the very stones began to warm, blistering my feet. The familiar halls became a maze where I wandered, lost and confused.

“She’s stopped drinking.”

I stumbled into the kitchen. Anna was there, lying on the floor, sweating and moaning. Othur was seated at the table, a mug of ale in one hand. When I touched his shoulder, he collapsed to the floor like a broken doll.

“Her eyes are so sunken, like Epor’s.”

I fled, running, crying out to the Goddess for aid. When I burst into the chapel, the benches were filled with the dead and dying victims of the sweat.

Archbishop Drizen and Deacon Browdus stood before the statute of the Lady, their vestments drenched in sweat, dragging on the floor as they went about the service. Two acolytes, the men in Rahel’s loft, were assisting with the offering.

“Can you think of anything else to try, young’un? From her teachings?”

They all ignored my pleas and cries as they moved about the base of the marble statue. The cool peace of the chapel filled me then, and I sank to my knees. The Goddess reached out to me and with a glad heart I stretched out my hand to touch hers, wanting nothing more than the peace of her gardens, there to dwell forever.

But her hand withdrew before it touched mine and it was only when I looked up into the Lady’s face that I realized that she was sweating too. Suffering as Her people suffered. The marble moved then, the Lady raised her arms and called out to her husband, the Sacred Sun, and the flames rained down on my skin.