part0019

“ W elcome home.” Lord Necronis’s voice sounded like a large angry animal gargling up a throat full of phlegm. His mouth cracked open so wide it almost split his head in two. It was his version of a smile, and it never boded well.

Lady Dread looked around her. She stood in Lord Necronis’s throne room. The floor and walls were black polished stone. The walls rose out of sight to a ceiling she could not see. Broken men and women sat manacled to one wall. Creatures hidden in the darkness growled and snuffled. Leathery wings flapped above her head though she could see nothing. The air was cold, and she felt goose bumps crawling over her flesh.

“How interesting.” His eyes roamed down her naked flesh. “You have changed a great deal.”

Lady Dread said nothing.

“I feared I had lost you,” he continued. “How good of you to come to me yourself.”

I didn’t come here. I didn’t go anywhere. I was sitting in the trees, trying to find the source of the spike’s power.

“You have become a tool of my enemies,” Lord Necronis hissed. “You were supposed to kill that child. Instead, you became its slave.”

“Better than serving you.” If he could transport me to his palace, why has he not done it before?

“You still serve me.” His voice deepened with anger. “You will serve me for as long as you exist.”

He doesn’t have that kind of power. This is an illusion. I’m still in the grove, and he’s in my head.

“You are my creation, my slave. You are an abomination that walks the earth at my whim. You will return to your armor, and I will listen to you scream as I drive the spike back into your skull.”

The spike. I am still holding the spike. She tried to close her eyes, to shut out the vision he had trapped her in and concentrate on the physical world. But her eyelids wouldn’t move. Why can’t I do this?

“What are you doing?” Lord Necronis sneered. “You have no eyelids to shut.”

Lady Dread looked down and saw her flesh sloughing off her body like fat off a roasting pig. Exposed muscle burned as it air touched it and then turned into a red sludge, slopping to the black stone floor. Her bones glistened white in the darkness.

This isn’t happening. I am still in the grove. I am holding onto the spike in the helmet. He’s attacking me through that. The thought sparked panic. He’s doing this to keep me distracted, to separate me from the real world while his troops come after us.

The rest of her muscle oozed away, leaving only bone.

“It’s time you return to me,” Lord Necronis said, pleasure in his voice. “In your true form.”

A steel boot locked over her left foot. She cried out in pain as spikes drove into the bones. Lord Necronis tore through her mind while the other boot wrapped around her right foot. He ripped into her memories since she had first taken the child, reading them and casting them aside.

No! She reached for her Spellbinder magic, but Lord Necronis blocked her, his magic like a spider web, catching the Spellbinding energy and blocking her from it. She attempted to unravel the web, to pull the strands apart, but Lord Necronis’s magic was too strong and held her fast.

Lady Dread reached for the dark magic and power filled her. She shaped it into a blade with her mind and cut through the web of Lord Necronis’s magic. Lord Necronis howled in anger. Lady Dread aimed the power again, this time at the spike that connected her to Lord Necronis, and then cut for all she was worth.

She fell back on roots and dirt, staring up at the trees. The helmet tumbled out of her hands and landed at her feet. The spike, severed from the helmet, rolled out and onto the ground. She kicked it hard, sending it spinning across the ground.

The spikes. That’s how he follows me. His magic is in the spikes. Whenever I touch them, he knows where I am.

“Mari!” she shouted. “We have to move!”

“Where?” Sleep made Mari’s voice slur. “What’s happened?”

“Get the children ready. Fast!” Lady Dread whistled for her horse, heard its answering whinny. She grabbed the helmet. Her magic amplified and meshed with the dark magic. She formed the magic into a blade again. Piece by piece she sheared off the remaining spikes in the armor, taking away Lord Necronis’s ability to detect or control her.

In the air above, she heard the flapping of oversized wings.

“Hurry, Mari!” She gathered up her armor and shoved it into the bag. The foot and hip pieces Lord Necronis had created for her she left where they lay, among the spikes that had once made her Lord Necronis’s slave.

Lady Dread grabbed both sacks in one hand and drew her sword with the other. She ran to Mari, who stood in the center of the glade, eyes to the sky. The children sat in their slings on her chest, and the pack lay at her feet. Above them, the whistling turned into a scream of air against leather wings. Mari dropped to her hands and knees, wrapping her body around the babies. Lady Dread cast a spell that surrounded Mari in a glowing gold shield no magic could penetrate.

But the demon didn’t use magic.

It swooped, twisting and turning through the trees at a speed no bird could match. Long, wiry arms lashed out, sending clawed hands to rip Mari’s back open to the bone. Mari’s scream tore through the grove. Her body convulsed. The demon banked, its wings shrinking and growing as it whirled around the trunks and came at her again.

Lady Dread, her sword powered by muscle and magic, sliced the creature lengthwise. Black blood and green bile spattered and sprayed. The two halves of the demon hit the ground and didn’t move again. Mari stayed where she lay, still screaming.

Lady Dread scanned the sky as best she could among the trees. She could neither see nor hear any more of the flying demons, but that did not mean they weren’t there.

Her horse charged into the glade. Lady Dread grabbed Mari. “Can you get up?”

“The babies!” Mari cried. “Get the babies!”

Aten’s blood. Lady Dread dropped her sword and went to one knee. The horse stood over them, it’s lips pulled back in a snarl, its eyes on the sky. Lady Dread pulled Mari upright and held her there with one hand. With the other she pulled the slings off one at a time and put them over her head. A quick adjustment and she had the infants on either side of her stomach. She laid magic over them—a spell to make sure neither sling came loose and that the children didn’t fall out.

“The blanket,” Mari whispered. “We need… the…”

She toppled. Lady Dread cursed, grabbed Mari and threw her over the saddle like a deer carcass. She stuffed the blanket in the pack, chafing at every moment wasted.

Where are they? Lady Dread put on the pack of baby supplies. She lashed the bags of armor together and tossed them over the horse’s back. Was it the only one close enough? Are the others waiting to ambush me?

Lady Dread grabbed the horse’s mane and leaped on its back. She held Mari with one hand and the reins with the other. The horse didn’t wait for a command. It charged through the trees, burst into the open and ran at a full gallop.

How long has it been since sunset? She looked at the sky, did some calculations, and swore. It was not even midnight. The flying creatures had the entire night to hunt them. If that was the only one close, we have a chance. We just have to keep going until dawn. They won’t know where we are.

One look at Mari’s back showed her she didn’t have that long.

Had the blow been higher it would have taken her head. Lower would have destroyed her kidneys. Mari’s ribs and shoulder blades had taken most of the damage, and the four wide cuts across bled badly.

I’ve got to heal her. Lady Dread summoned her Spellbinder magic then realized she had no idea what to do with it. Surely, I can heal her. I have all this power. She imagined Mari’s back healing, tried to put her power into making it real, but nothing happened.

“Aten’s blood!” We need a place to hide. Somewhere where I can stop the bleeding at least. Lady Dread didn’t want to go to another farmhouse. She didn’t want to risk anyone else’s life, but Mari needed help. “Get us away from here!”

Her horse raced forward into the night. Lady Dread stared out into the night. There were no farmhouses in sight, no signs of inns or way stations.

We’re too far off the roads, now. We won’t find anyone if we keep going this direction. She pulled the horse’s reins, turning it southeast. It grumbled but kept its pace. Lady Dread reached inside the girl’s sling and found her warm and sleeping. The boy was the same. At least they aren’t squalling, yet.

An hour later her horse whinnied and changed direction. Lady Dread got a whiff of wood-smoke. She peered into the darkness, looking for the source. The shadows ahead of her resolved into a small town clustered around a stone keep.

“Good work,” she told the horse. Now, how do I explain it?

They rode straight to an inn on the outskirts of the town. As soon as it stopped, Lady Dread swung her leg off and slid down the beast’s side, hands cradling the infants. She yanked Mari off the horse, using magic to keep her from falling. No lights shone inside, and the door stood closed before her. Lady Dread laid Mari on her stomach, took her dagger and slammed the pommel against the door.

“Help us!” she yelled. “We’ve been attacked!”

She pounded the door again. A querulous voice inside demanded to know what the racket was about. Lady Dread looked at her horse. Before she could tell the animal to leave it turned and ran into the darkness.

“No, dammit!” Lady Dread shouted for the benefit of the people inside the inn. “Stupid horse! Come back!”

The horse whinnied in the distance, and Lady Dread could have sworn it was laughing. She shook her head and raised her dagger just as the door opened. An old man with hair standing out at all angles and eyes filled with suspicion and anger glared at her.

“Who in the name of Aten’s mother—”

“Help us!” Lady Dread pointed to Mari on the ground. “We were attacked! Please!”

“Aten’s balls!” The man turned and shouted into the inn. “Varmia! There’s someone hurt out here!”

“What?” The second voice sounded at once worried and excited. “How?”

“Damned if I know, but she’s been torn asunder!”

Lady Dread heard shuffling from above and the thump of feet on the stair. She knelt by Mari and pulled her upright. When she looked up, an old woman stood beside the old man, gawping at her.

“Let us in!” Lady Dread barked.

The old couple fell back.

“Get the fire started!”

The old woman scurried to the fireplace and stirred the glowing embers. She tossed new kindling on it, and a small blaze flared up. By the light of it, Lady Dread saw more people coming down the stairs, their eyes wide with surprise. Two girls, a middle-aged couple, a young couple, and a pair of men watched Lady Dread, and the old man lay Mari on the longest table.

“Land’s sake!” the old woman exclaimed, pointing at the slings around Lady Dread’s neck. “Are those your wife’s?”

“She’s not my wife,” Lady Dread said. “One is hers. The other is mine.”

“Where’s the mother?”

I murdered her. “I’m the mother.”

“What? You’re a man!”

Lady Dread quelled an urge to drive her fist into the woman’s face. “No, I’m dressed like a man. Can you help her, please?”

One girl grabbed the other’s sleeve. “Pella, go to the temple. Ask the Consecrator to come. I’ll get water and clean rags.”

“And rope,” Lady Dread added. “We’ll need to tie her down.”

“I’ll do it,” the old man said, heading for the kitchen.

“Give us the babies.” The middle-aged woman held out her hand. She nodded to the woman of the younger couple. “I’ve had five, including Bettye here.”

“We’ll take care of them,” Bettye promised. “We’ll sit right here by the fire.”

“Thank you.” Lady Dread handed off the children and the slings. Mari lay still, her breath shallow. The four gashes on her back had turned black. A dark brown, slow flowing sludge oozed out of them. The smell of rot rose from the open sores.

It’s too soon for infection. Lady Dread put her palm on Mari’s forehead. It felt hot. Aten’s piss. Poison, maybe? Or demon magic?

The old man returned with a rope, followed by the girl with a bucket of clean water and a handful of rags. The middle-aged man took the rope and wrapped a loop into one end.

“Patricus Grosso. Horse wrangler,” he said by way of introduction and explanation. “Put it on her wrist and pass it under the table.”

Lady Dread did. Patricus tied Mari’s other hand. Two more passes and they had her feet secured. Lady Dread used her dagger to cut the remains of the cloak and Mari’s shirt away from the woman’s back.

Patricus whistled. “How long ago did this happen?”

He shook his head. “Nothing natural does that.”

“It wasn’t anything natural.” Lady Dread took the bucket and dipped a rag in it. “Sorry, Mari. This is going to hurt.”

She squeezed the rag out over the wounds. Mari convulsed and let out a scream that set off both babies and made the adults wince. Lady Dread ignored her and did it again. The sludge barely moved. Lady Dread used the cloth to wipe the ooze away from the wound. Mari screamed again, her body thrashing despite the ropes.

“Hold her,” Lady Dread ordered, swishing the rag in the water to get off the worst of the sludge. “Girl, what is your name?”

“Bring me another bucket of water, Shelbie. Quickly.”

She ran from the room. The younger men put their weight against Mari’s shoulders and hips, pinning her. Lady Dread kept wiping at the wounds, pulling up far more sludge than should have been possible. The stink of rotted flesh grew stronger with each wipe. By the time Lady Dread finished clearing the first wound, Shelbie had returned with more water.

“Use a clean rag to rinse that,” Lady Dread said. “Don’t let it touch her. Hold it above and squeeze out the water on her.”

“Where did you learn this?” asked Patricus.

“Battlefield.” I just don’t know which one.

“Battlefield?” The younger man’s voice rose in surprise. “Were you at Whitestorm, then? Was it as bad as they say?”

Much worse. Lady Dread grabbed a fresh cloth and worked on the second wound. Mari screamed once more and went still. Lady Dread stopped and put a hand to Mari’s neck. She found the woman’s pulse, slow and faint. “She’s still alive.”

“Good,” Patricus said. “It’ll go faster now. Pass me a rag.”

The two of them cleared the sludge and rot while Shelbie kept squeezing water onto the cleaned wounds. They had finished clearing the fourth one when the front door opened, and Pella came in leading a man in the yellow robes of a Consecrator. He froze at the sight of Mari’s back. Then he strode across the floor and held out his hands.

“Pray,” he said, closing his eyes.

Everyone stepped away from the table except for Lady Dread. They lowered their heads and brought their hands together. Most prayed in silence. Bettye, still holding Griffin in her arms, sung softly to the child. The old woman prayed aloud, her voice filling the room. Lady Dread felt her skin prickle as the Consecrator gathered power from their words. His hands glowed with a soft, yellow light. The light shone on Mari’s wounds, and for a moment, the rotten smell disappeared.

Black stinking sludge erupted out of Mari’s back, spattering the priest and oozing to the floor. The stench made everyone gag.

“Keep praying!” the Consecrator shouted. He looked green. His nose wrinkled, and he swallowed hard. Still, he kept his hands over the wounds. The sludge bubbled out, spattering and spraying. It hit the Consecrator in the face, driving him back from Mari.

“I am sorry.” He wiped the vile stuff off his face with the sleeve of his robe. “This… this is too much for me. I cannot stop it.”

“You have to.” Lady Dread stepped forward. “It was a demon. It ripped her open. She got hurt protecting the babies.”

“I don’t have the power,” the Consecrator said. “We should send her to Atensmount. The Consecrators there are much more powerful. They could do something.”

“How far away is it?” Lady Dread asked.

“Two days ride,” Patricus said. “Assuming you had fast horses and could change every few hours the way the church’s post riders do.”

“She’ll be dead by then.” Lady Dread looked at the mass of sludge. “I have power. Can I help?”

“Power?” The old woman’s eyes opened wide. “What power?”

“I’m a Spellbinder.” Which is close enough to the truth, I hope.

The Consecrator shook his head. “Spellbinder magic gathers energy from all living things. It can’t put energy back into them. You might use it to burn off this filth or kill the creature that did this, but you cannot heal with it.”

No. Lady Dread stared at Mari’s pallid, sweat-covered face, remembering when she first saw her walking in her home village, her laughter and good humor. The woman’s breaths came in short, sharp pants. Her eyes were wide open, but glassy, seeing nothing. I can’t let her die.