PROLOGUE (43 page)

Maybe it would be better to wait here by the horses, to wait for the soldiers to return, driving captured cattle before them, but she couldn't bear to wait as if she were blind and crippled.

And anyway, there was nothing she could see on this day that would be worse than what she had already seen in this past year.

She crept up the slope on hands and knees. Grass rustled under her weight and she froze, then slowly crawled to the crest, checking always to assure herself that the foxtails waved above her head. At the top of the hill lay a large gray rock with dry orange lichen clinging to it as if to a scaly hide. From behind this screen she dared to peer down into the vale.

A single ragged byre stood at the far end of the vale. Cattle grazed in their dull fashion, watched over by three slaves dressed in far less than what Anna wore. They leaned heavily on staves. Occasionally a cow lifted its head from the grass to low nervously. Goats strayed over one rise beyond which Anna could see copses of trees and the suggestion of floodplain; if she moved
just
enough she might be able to see the towers of Gent in the distance. A woman so weak that she frequently stumbled hurried after the straying goats and herded them back. Anna could not count very high, but there were plenty of cattle and goats just in this one sheltered vale where grass still covered the hillside. No doubt these livestock had been stolen from Steleshame or some other unfortunate village. According to the reports brought in by the mounted soldiers, many such herds grazed the lands around Gent now, good cropland which had gone to seed under the stewardship of the Eika.

Lord Wichman and his soldiers weren't raiding, not really; they were just getting back what the Eika had stolen.

A few trees stood in this pasture, which by the patchwork of grass, some long and dying, some short and new, had perhaps once been a series of long, narrow fields. But cat
‍
tle, grass, and slaves did not hold her attention for long. Other objects stood in the vale, and these she could not help but stare at with a grim, hungry fear pulling at her gut.

Rising above the grass, occasionally under a tree yet most often atop a gentle rise, stood a number of standing stones the same hue as the stone she lay beside but tall and monolithic rather than low and rugged. No Eika with gleaming skin and ice-white hair, with jewel-studded teeth and fierce spear point, stood guard over the slaves and the precious livestock. Nothing stood here except those dozen stones, yet the slaves did not run in the face of such freedom.

Of Lord Wichman and his soldiers she saw no sign.

She knew these stones, they were somehow familiar to her, each alike, each...a threat.

The stone nearest to her stood at the base of the slope at whose height she knelt. Its pitted surface lay a bit more than a long bow-shot away. Hadn't it been farther away when she first peeked out? Why would stones stand out here in the middle of this vale, in no discernible pattern? Why did they look different from the boulder she hid behind? Why did no lichen grow on them?

She stared at the stone, frightened. Something was not right here. What was it Master Helvidius had said about illusion?

But it was only a stone.

Her pouch dug into her thigh, the scant reward for her hours of foraging. She had found a few handfuls of acorns which could be leached and ground up into gruel, withered nettle and parsley to flavor soup, and a dead squirrel.

Her thoughts wandered to those happy days when Matthias had labored in the tannery and Helvidius had sung for the lordling every night, when she had begged scraps of food from the soldiers and they had eaten every day. Now they were always so terribly hungry, and little Helen had barely strength to cry. Maybe it would have been more merciful to have left her to die with her mother and infant sibling.

Slowly, while she stared without truly seeing, the stone took shape as illusion toys with the form of things: a spear point, a head, eyes peering up at her, seeing her...it was not a standing stone at all but an Eika soldier creeping one cautious step at a time toward her, easing up the low rise.

Terror seized her heart. Goose prickles rose on her arms and neck. She wanted to scream, yet no sound rose out of her throat.

"They find you if you scream," Matthias had said when they lay in the stinking tanning pit while Eika and their dogs prowled the deserted tanning grounds. "Lie still without a noise."

Yet would a scream turn it back into stone? Would a scream wake her up and free her from this nightmare? Would the two soldiers come running to save her? They were still out there somewhere, hiding, searching for the Eika guards...

Or had the Eika already slain them?

Did the soldiers see only stones and fail to strike? Had they been cut down unaware that they already faced their foe in the guise of unmoving rock?

Movement stirred in the dark entrance to the byre, a figure ducking out from under the low roof. Smaller than the others, this one had a bad limp and a familiar tilt to his head.

At last the scream rose out of her throat, loud and piercing.

"Matthias!" She could not help herself. She leaped to her feet. "Matthias!"

His name carried upon the breeze and across the vale. Most of the cattle lifted their heads, dull wits responding at last to this unknown sound.

The Eika stalking her froze in its tracks, as if trying to turn itself again to stone, but it was too late. The waning rays of the sun silhouetted every detail of form
—no dream at all, but illusion shrouding it: the obsidian leaf-shaped spear; the jut of its lips and the gleam of teeth beneath; the smooth sheen of gold-tinted scales that were its skin. All showed plainly now, illusion banished. A dozen Eika stood frozen in the vale, like statues, and not until the first of the soldiers sprang from his hiding place in the grass and struck a fierce blow did the Eika realize their illusion was shattered.

They moved, dashing to fight, but the trick had worked against them. As a half dozen soldiers rushed in and the pound of hooves alerted Anna to the arrival of Lord Wich
‍
man, the Eika ran here and there, almost at random as if, separated, they were confused.

The Eika below her took two great strides up the hill, then, hesitating, turned back toward the vale. From the far slope ten horsemen crested the hill, Lord Wichman at their head, and raced down the gentle slope at a full gallop. Swords held high, they bore down in pairs upon their scattered foes. Another six soldiers appeared from the grass with spears.

An Eika with a large stone ax rushed a spearman. The huge form of the Eika eclipsed the warrior so Anna could see only the Eika as the two met. The point of the spear pushed through the Eika's back; the two fighters twisted around, both now visible. As he was forced to the ground, the spearman's spear shaft bowed as the man attempted to shift the Eika aside to avoid a blow from the creature's ax. The haft snapped and the ax fell hard upon the warrior's leg. A sound reached Anna; she did not know whether it was that of the broken spear or of splintering bone. Still from the ground, first with the splintered shaft of wood and then with a dagger the man rained thrusts and blows upon the face and neck of the Eika until it at last lay still. All over the field Eika fell, most in silence, some in flight.

Matthias dashed back into the shelter of the byre. Of the other slaves, one followed him into the ragged shelter while the other two ran for freedom.

"Matthias!" she shrieked. He had to run
now.
What if the others retreated and some of the Eika were left alive?

The Eika at the base of her hill turned at the sound of her voice and raced up the hill
—whether to flee the fight or to catch her she did not know. But it made no difference. A knife in the hand of a starving girl was no match for a spear wielded by an Eika warrior.

Anna bolted. She scrambled, half sliding, half leaping, down the slope, back to the safety of the tree where she should have remained all along. Distantly, she heard the shouts of Lord Wichman and his men.

If she could only reach the horses, she would have the safety promised her by his soldiers.

But the Eika was far swifter, and quickly he closed to within a few paces. She heard his breath behind her, felt his presence; his long shadow reached out to encompass, to blot out, her slight shadow that danced across the ground as she ran. But though it was useless, she could not stop running.

Another sound drowned out the heavy stamp of the Eika feet
—the pound of hooves. A taller shadow, a man upon a horse, overtook them both and a trilling war cry shattered the air. She dove and rolled. The long thin line of a sword leaped ahead of the mesh of shadows upon the grass and then it cut down into the darkness. There was a thud behind her. The horseman passed her, slowing and then bringing his mount around. She stuck out her hands and knees and stopped herself, rose up, hands and face scratched and just beginning to bleed softly. Her breath came in such gulping gasps that she thought she couldn't get any air in. She twisted around.

The Eika lay behind her sprawled on its belly, cleaved from shoulder to spine. Its ugly head was twisted up to the left, almost all of the way around. Life drained rapidly from its eyes. It wore no wooden Circle on a thong around its neck. It had sworn no allegiance to the kin of humankind. Ai, Lady, it
—and its brothers—had killed so many of her people and probably Papa Otto, too. It would have killed Matthias, given the chance.

She stood, bent, and spit in its face, but it was already dead.

"Ai, there, child!" The horseman reined up beside her. He unhooked his helm and pulled it off. She stared up, astonished, at Lord Wichman himself. He had a crazed look in his eyes and a wild grin on his lips. "You're the one my men found foraging in the woods. Why didn't you go with the refugees we sent off months ago, to the marchlands? You're a cursed nuisance, almost ruining our raid like that."

He had the full cheeks of a man who doesn't want for food, even in hard times. Terrified, she did not know how to address him. No lord had ever even noticed her before.

At last, stammering, she found her voice. "Master Helvidius is my grandfather, my lord." The lie came conveniently to her lips. "I had to stay with him, and he was too ill to walk so far when the others left."

He grunted, sheathing his sword. "He'll have a victorious tale to sing tonight. A good sixty cattle and as many goats we've claimed back today." His grin was fierce and sure, and he looked ready to ride out this minute on another raid. "Go on, then." He gestured to the west. Snow blew and skittered round him, white flakes spinning in the wind. "It's a long walk back to Steleshame."

Then he turned and rode away to meet a half dozen of his mounted soldiers. They headed east. Anna ran for the top of the hill and there
—

All the breath slammed out of her as if she had been struck in the stomach.
There!
At last she found breath to shout.

"Matthias!"

With the other slaves, rescued now, he had formed up to help the remaining soldiers herd cattle and goats back to Steleshame. Hearing her voice, he started away, cast about, then saw her and limped up the slope.

She burst into tears and ran down to meet him. Ai, Lady, he was all bone with only a layer of skin holding him together.

"You're so thin," he said, hugging her tightly. "Oh, Anna! I thought I'd never see you again."

She couldn't speak she was sobbing so hard.

"Hush, now," he said. "It's over and done with."

"It's not done with! It's never done with! They'll never go away. They'll always be here, hunting us, won't they?"

"Hush, Anna," he said more sternly. Because she had learned to obey him, she choked down her sobs and quieted. "I just thought of Papa Otto," he continued. "I thought if Papa Otto could survive even after he lost everyone in his family, then I could, too, knowing you still lived."

"But you didn't know I still lived
—you saw them attack—"

"I had to believe it!"

That silenced her.

"Come now." He took her hand. The herd had begun to creep sluggishly westward. "Other Eika will come when this group don't report back to the main camp. We've got to be long gone. Lord Above, Anna, why were you with them? Are there so few of you left at Steleshame that they're taking children out to fight?"

Like the Eika made by illusion into stone, he appeared to her different than what she had known before. Still fa
‍
miliar, he was no longer the same Matthias. He was not a boy any longer.

"There aren't any dogs here," she said softly, to say something, finally beginning to tremble with reaction. Her feet hurt, and her nose was cold.