Sword Sisters (14 page)

The next morning, they came for us.

Just after breakfast a firm, no-nonsense knock rattled the door. Heod opened it to find Damato standing there, his hands clasped formally behind him. “The village council demands the presence of your daughter Amelia and her friend Aella,” he said. “They also order you and the rest of your family to stay home.” There was no trace of the gentle man I’d kissed just hours before.

“They can demand and order all they want,” Heod said. “The last time they demanded, she nearly died.” He looked over at Sela, who nodded her approval of his defiance.

Damato sighed. “Heod, I understand your attitude, but this is for real. I have orders to bring them by whatever means necessary.” He looked past Heod at me. “That means if you resist, someone is likely to die: me, you, or some of your family. The only way to avoid that is to let me take them.”

“What will happen to them?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

“If they try to sacrifice her again, I’ll hold you responsible.”

“Understood.” He stepped back. “Aella, Amelia…please come with me.”

I met Amelia’s eyes and nodded. I trusted Damato, and if that failed, I’d protect her even if it meant slaughtering half this village.

As we stepped through the door, men suddenly grabbed me. Before I could react, which says more about me than about my attackers, heavy metal shackles were snapped around my wrists and neck. I snarled and pulled away, but these weren’t normal bonds. These were Demon manacles—old and rusted but still solid. I could not possibly break free of them. Even still, I gave it a go. There’s something about metal around my throat that brings out the animal in me. And I sounded like one right about now.

I glared at Damato, trying to regain control. Bound this way, I’d hurt myself more than I would anyone else. Through clenched teeth, I said, “Get these off me!”

“I’m sorry, Aella,” he said. “I can’t risk you being on the loose while the council decides what to do about Amelia.” The two men who'd ambushed me scurried to hide behind Damato, their faces white with fear. I wondered how he'd convinced them to do this.

And then one of them laughed.

Despite my best efforts, I lost it for real this time. I lunged at him, teeth bared like an animal. Damato stepped nimbly in front of him and swept my feet out from under me, sending me face-first into the hard-packed dirt. The two henchmen jumped in and locked shackles around my ankles. I was thoroughly contained now, and I spat dirt as I got to my knees, nothing but hate in my eyes for the man who kissed me last night and betrayed me at dawn.

“Try anything again, and I’ll have to gag you,” Damato said. He held a metal face-clamp, the kind used to silence Demons. I wondered where the hell he had gotten these things, but I also knew I didn’t want to wear it. I nodded, struggled to my feet, and tried not to look at Amelia’s terrified face. I couldn’t protect her now. I am the world’s worst warrior.

#

The Cartwangle council met in a big hut that looked older than all the other buildings. It had been repaired over the years but never updated or remodeled. I imagined it to be the same hut first built on this spot back when the humans thought the area might be safe enough from Demons to settle down.

There was a short chain that hung from the collar around my neck, but no one had the nerve to try to hold it. That was good; I don’t think I could’ve tolerated being led around by a leash. As it was, Damato stood behind me, one hand lightly on my shoulder. I would have bitten it off if the metal collar hadn’t been so thick. I couldn’t take very big steps because of the shackles, so we moved slowly. I was angry and humiliated. Again.

Amelia wasn’t tied or bound, but four villagers surrounded her, two of them holding her arms. She looked terrified. I grew more and more angry, which seemed impossible. It was one thing to be tortured by Demons. One expects such behavior from them. Betrayal is a thousand times worse than that.

Inside the hut, the walls were flat, wooden panels painted with elaborate, stylized depictions of the village’s history. Several showed battle scenes from the Thousand Year War with Demons and Reapers fighting over the corpses of humans. I wanted to study them, to see what they said about Lurida Lumo, but I had much more pressing issues. Like the council of elders.

There they were: six dusty men seated behind a table, wearing ridiculous robes. No women—typical for humans. They felt that women lacked the intelligence or fortitude to rule. Morons. They wore the weight of the world on their saggy, lined faces, and one sported an enormous hat, like a crown crossed with an aleskin.

“Thank you, Damato, for carrying out your orders,” Aleskin-hat said. I recognized him then as Sixle, the elder I’d slammed against the wall. This was not shaping up to be a good day. “The girl Reaper has proven herself to be a danger.”

“Don’t thank me,” Damato said. “Just get this over with.”

Sixle stood and looked at me. “You, intruder, have done more damage in the two days you’ve been here than the Demons did during the entire Thousand Year War. You have challenged our faith and our sovereignty. Were it within my power, I would sacrifice you to Lurida Lumo, but he will accept only human virgins.”

I should’ve pushed you right through that wall, I wanted to say but held my tongue.

“Therefore, we will deal with you in a more appropriate manner when we are done with your friend,” he continued. “Amelia, step forward and face the council.”

The two men holding her pushed her into the open space before the table.

“Amelia, you were chosen to be the sacrifice to Lurida Lumo.”

“No, Kelinda was chosen!” Amelia snapped. “It’s not my fault she died too soon! And I shouldn’t have to pay the price for that!”

“You were chosen as well, just with less…ceremony. And I will thank you to not use that offensive tone.”

“Well, if my tone is offensive, maybe that means I’m offended! You people have been sending us off to die for how many generations now? Always girls; never boys. Did you ever think about that? Why can’t Lurida Lumo accept a virgin boy?”

“Lurida Lumo’s wishes are well known to us,” the priest Litwin said patiently.

“Then just kill me and get it over with,” Amelia said, “because I’ll kill myself before I let you send me to be eaten by a monster again.”

“That, alas, cannot happen,” Sixle said. “Thanks to your friend.”

I recalled the tracks Damato and I saw last night. If he told the council about them, Amelia was doomed. I might be as well. But the traitor remained silent.

“Wait a minute. Hold on,” a familiar voice warned. Yazel, leaning on a ridiculously thin cane, stomped her way through the crowd. She glanced at Amelia then faced the men. “What nonsense are you old wrinkled peckers up to now?”

“Damato,” Sixle said, “please escort Yazel outside. She’s made it clear many times that she’s not part of this village, so this does not concern her.”

“Is that right?” the old woman said and pointed at Damato with the cane. “You keep your hands to yourself, boy, if that’s at all possible. What I’ve got to say won’t take long.” Did she know about last night? No. Not possible.

She turned to the council. “I’m no Teller Witch, but I can see more than any of you. And what I see is not good, no, not good at all. Not for you, me, or the village. If you keep on the path you’ve chosen, then we’re all doomed. Doomed, I tell you. Lurida Lumo may still be alive, but what you’ve all thought was Lurida Lumo is completely wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong! And when he seeks his vengeance, as he will, oh, will he! You won’t be able to stand up to him. No sir. Not a one of you able bodied or not so able bodied men.” She fairly spat out the word men. “The only one who might be able to is her.”

This time, the cane pointed at me.

“Instead of chaining her up, you should be treating her like a queen. A queen!” Yazel continued. “Because she may be your last hope. You mark my words, hear me? Mark them!”

And with that, the old woman turned and stomped out of the council hut.

There was a moment of silence, then Sixle cleared his throat and said, “Amelia, you will go back to your home and remain there until we have reached a decision. Do not try to leave Cartwangle. If you do, your family will bear whatever punishment we decide for you.”

“You bastards,” Amelia said, her eyes brimming.

“Remember your place, girl!” another elder roared. He was a big man, simultaneously scruffy, bejeweled, and mean-looking.

“Why, S’Grun?” Amelia said to this new speaker. “Everyone knows how you beat Connell, but nobody has the courage to call you on it. Well, I do. You’re a monster and a hypocrite, and you deserve whatever bad things happen to you.” Then she turned and stomped out, pushing past the men in the door without even a glance at me.

“Go with her,” Sixle said.

“I know the way!” Amelia yelled back over her shoulder.

“Hmph,” S'Grun muttered. “Stupid whore.”

So this was Connell’s father. There were more layers to this little village than I thought. Did S’Grun hate Amelia because she loved Connell or because it simply made plain what he so desperately wanted to deny: that his son preferred the love of other boys? Seems to me if the man had any sense at all, he’d want to keep Amelia around as a diversion if nothing else.

Still, S’Grun didn’t bat an eye. He raised one hand and gestured. “Bring this alleged Reaper before us now.”

“Are you telling me my job, S’Grun?” Sixle asked.

S’Grun clearly wanted to make an issue of this power struggle, but he just as clearly knew it wasn’t the time. “I beg your pardon,” he choked out. “If you feel it is the right thing to do, can we please talk to this girl who claims she’s a Reaper?”

Damato gently nudged my shoulder. I may have nudged back. And then I shuffled into the same spot Amelia had occupied.

“This is no Reaper,” S’Grun said. “This is some child. Look at her!”

Boy, was I tired of hearing that.

“You have my assurance,” Damato said. “She’s a Reaper.”

“And I have observed her strength firsthand,” Sixle said.

“Well, there’s one way to tell,” S’Grun said smugly. “Strip her. Expose her spine. And whatever else she might be hiding under that dress.”

My eyes grew wide at this. I couldn’t help clenching my fists and straining against my chains. Memories of humiliation and worse at the hands of the Demons roared back to vivid life. My eyes searched the room to see who would dare. I would rip that human apart with my teeth if I had to. Who? Damato? So be it! I could not imagine a greater torture than being forced to stand nude before a crowd for inspection. I’d rather be stabbed repeatedly with Reaper steel than go through that again.

“I’m not doing that,” Damato said. “If you don’t trust my word, then I shouldn’t be working for you. And if you just want to see a naked girl in chains, S’Grun, I’m sure a man of your incredible power can arrange that without my help.”

S’Grun glared at Damato. “You will show us the proper respect, young man.”

“I am,” he shot back.

“You have sent word to Raggenborg about her presence here?” Sixle said, trying to regain control.

Damato nodded. “I expect an answer sometime tomorrow. Likely, they’ll send other Reapers to retrieve her.”

“Then we won’t worry about her disposition. Return her to Heod’s home.”

S’Grun continued to glare at me. I returned the favor, relishing in the only revenge I could take.

Damato gently tugged on my arm, and S’Grun said, “Why don’t we just kill her? Raggenborg Castle should belong to us, not those damned Reapers. They say they’re preparing it for the new king, but how do we know that? Demon bastards, all of them, and we’re supposed to trust them?”

“That,” Sixle said, “problem is five years away, S’Grun, and if you can’t stop ranting about it, we might have to find someone else to fill your seat. Assuming I can find a big enough ass.”

S’Grun jumped to his feet. “Are you threatening me, Sixle? Do you know what I’ll do to you? I’ll shove that stupid hat right up your bony old—”

Sixle was unbowed. “I am not your son, S’Grun. I will not cower from your abuse. Now sit down and shut up, or I’ll have Damato drag you out of here by your scrotum. Am I clear?”

S’Grun clenched his meaty hands, and for a moment, I thought he was going to make an issue of it. Then he sat back down heavily, glaring at the table top before him.

“Come on,” Damato said softly and nudged me toward the door.

He walked behind me in total silence. I didn’t speak either because what could I really say other than the string of profanities that welled up from my stomach, attacked my heart, and somehow got stuck in my throat and lodged there? I felt terrible for breaking my word to Amelia and for getting her into this mess in the first place. I was humiliated, impotent, and worse, I’d let myself trust a man unworthy of it. A dozen villagers followed at a respectful, or frightened, distance. Public humiliation: is there any better kind?

At the door, Damato unlocked my shackles and removed the collar. I resisted the urge to rip him limb from limb while screaming like a banshee. Barely. He said, “I’m very sorry about this. I have a lot of competing loyalties here.”