The Second Coming (32 page)

Brahm stirred,
pulling back the thin blankets to rise. She was naked, but not
soiled.

“
I don't suppose I have any clean clothes.”

Lya skirted
the bed and retrieved the pack. “Your other clothes are ruined.
This is all that was left.”

Brahm rose and
steadied herself on legs that wobbled, gripping the bedpost to find
balance. She dressed slowly, her mind still drifting through haze.
She stepped forward, but her legs shook. “Can you help me out of
this room? I need to eat.”

Lya took her
arm with a firm grip. “White Feather has been feeding and cleaning
you. He insisted you were not to get out of bed without him.”

She groaned.
“I'm not some child to be coddled.”

“
But White Feather said―”

Brahm cut her
off with a quick look.

The grip
tightened. “You know what's best.”

They headed
down a drafty corridor and a worn staircase to the common room of
the inn. Brahm leaned on Lya's shoulder more than she would have
liked. The girl did not flinch and seemed to take her weight with
ease.

The common
room was small, and Brahm sat at the first available table. The
smell of bacon lingered on the air. The innkeeper muttered a hasty
greeting and left her to gorge on stale bread and cold, greasy
strips of fried pork. Brahm barely took time to breathe between
mouthfuls.

Lya sipped at
a glass of pale liquid that Brahm could smell over the bacon —
moonshine.

“
White Feather had to feed you mush and water,” she
said.

With her mouth
still full Brahm nodded. “I am in his debt.”

“
He seems quite fond of you,” she said and put the glass on
the table.

Brahm snatched
it and gulped the remainder of the liquid back, letting it burn its
way down. She set it back on the table in front of her.

She changed
the subject.

“
How are you feeling? Did you know we were following
you?”

Lya eyed the
glass and then nodded. “I hadn’t realized you had been following
Talon.”

“
Without her, we would have had a hard time following you.”
She paused, her mind still struggling for clarity. “Do you know why
the Hunters are gathered?”

“
They thought I was from Lindhome and wanted to know about
their weaknesses. They kept asking how to use the Soulstone Tablet.
Does that mean anything to you?”

Brahm hung her
head.

The Soulstone Tablet
.

She stared
into the blueness of Lya's eyes, and there she found traces of the
Firstborn-woman she knew was her mother.

“
It is said to be a tablet of great power, one that can track
souls and the use of witchcraft anywhere in the world. The
Confederation tried to get their hands on it once, but
failed.”

Lya bit her
lip. “I’ve heard that. Then they would be able to find every witch
and necromancer in the land.”

Brahm nodded.
“But I heard from the Lastborn there is writing on it that only
three souls—“ Her mouth suddenly clamped shut. Brahm couldn’t say
why that was, something inside her was telling her to keep quiet.
She followed its advice.

From the
corner of her eye a squat, bearded man watched them. He sat behind
a table some distance off and picked up his stein. Taking a long
draught that dribbled down his unkempt beard, he turned from her
gaze.

Lya was
clutching at her chest briefly, her usually taciturn look now one
of brief, but irritated occupation.

“
I need fresh air,” Brahm said.

Lya did not
object and they made their way out to the muddy road of the
town.

Bridgeport had
the appearance of most towns with the single exception of a
massive, white-walled church that stood at the top of the hill at
the end of the road. Its doors were flung wide open as if to
welcome one and all.

The rest of
the town appeared meek and humble in its presence. A few crabapple
trees lined the street, their flowers long bloomed and lost to the
winds. The dirt road was a thick carpet of mud that stretched
across the town, the result of recent rains. The lingering moisture
still sat on the air.

Lya pulled up
the hood of her tunic and Brahm slid it back off her head.

“
Do not cover up. You need to be careful, but don't make it
appear as if you are hiding. It will gather more attention. Have
you already worn your hood around the town?”

Lya shook her
head. “After we arrived last night, Diarmuid told me to remain with
you and not to leave the inn.”

Brahm nodded.
“Then perhaps things in this town are not too friendly. We should
go back.”

As the words
fell from her lips, Diarmuid rounded the corner, with White Feather
in tow. The Haudenosaunee ran to Brahm. His embrace almost knocked
the air out of her.

“
Orenda.” The name escaped his lips in a whisper.

For a brief
moment she thought he might kiss her, so she returned his fierce
hug before he had the chance.

He let her go,
but did not step back. “It is good to see you up again. Are you all
right?”

“
Yes, thanks to you. I am in your debt.”

“
You owe me nothing. I had a chance to have my arms around you
for days. What more could I ask?” The ridiculous grin was planted
on his face. Strangely, a similar one stretched across her own. She
shook it off.

“
Hi, my name is Diarmuid.” With a wink, the pepper-haired man
extended his hand.

Brahm laughed
and pulled him close. “It’s good to see you too.”

White Feather
still stood close, one arm extended as if to steady her. His eyes
sagged with concern.

“
I'm fine,” she reassured him.

He took a
small step back, but the look lingered. “What happened to you?”

“
I pushed myself too hard. Soul Running takes a lot out of me.
I would have passed out sooner had Night not done something to me.”
The confused look on their faces was enough for her to realize she
should continue. “I'm not sure what he did, but he helped me to
keep going. I feel rested now.” The lie escaped her mouth so easily
she thought she might laugh. “I just hope I won't have to do that
again. I can't overindulge.”

Lya eyes
looked eager. “What talent is this?”

“
I don’t know what it is. I have never met anyone with this
skill.”

Yet there was
one, one who was watching.

“
I thought I felt you while I was amongst the Confederation
army,” she said.

Diarmuid
looked down the road. “We should get Lya back inside.”

As they made
their way back, Brahm's legs failed her, buckling under a wave of
fatigue. She felt as if she’d been suddenly shoved from behind and
tripped forward. She fell into the mud, slicing her palm open on a
sharp stone that protruded from the ground. Her knee twisted, the
pain of it soaring up her leg. Brahm moaned.

“
Orenda!” White Feather pulled her to her feet. Small trickles
of blood stained the muddied ground.

Brahm checked
her footing and hobbled on her good leg. White Feather ripped a
piece of his shirt and bound her hand. Diarmuid then led them back
to the inn.

White Feather
offered to carry her up the stairs. Though she refused the offer,
she was forced to accede to at least an arm around her waist. He
then left her in Lya's care at the girl's insistence.

In her room,
Lya washed Brahm's hand in the basin and put a salve on it that
stopped the bleeding. She then held the hand to her lips and
muttered some words over it. The wound warmed, to the point Brahm
almost jerked her hand away. When she finished Brahm no longer felt
the pain from it. Lya bandaged it and knelt at Brahm's feet. She
rolled up the ripped pant leg and her pale, white hands ran over
the surface of the knee. At first her hands were cold, like she was
dead. Over time and mumbled chants they warmed. She whispered
strange words over the leg and rocked. The knee continued to warm
and then grew hot. Lya continued to rock, her head bobbing back and
forth, her hands running over the knee. Searing heat filled Brahm’s
leg, penetrating to the bone and she bit back her scream. Then the
pain receded and Lya sat still.

Brahm rose and
tested her weight upon her leg. “There is almost no pain now. Where
did you learn that?”

Lya shrugged.
“I had a book growing up — a grimoire of spells.”

“
It is a rare talent. Thank you.” Brahm took stock of her
clothes, covered in mud. “I need to get out of these. Where is my
pack?”

“
What you are wearing is the last of the clothing you had.
Everything else was lost or thrown away while on the
run.”

A nervous
twinge struck her. “What about the kahbeth?”

A spider
crawled across Lya’s hand. She crushed it between her fingers.
“Those were strapped to White Feather's back. They're over there,
on the other side of the bed. I can sense the rage in them.”

Brahm nodded
at the glittering sight of them, relieved. She looked about the
room, with its lumpy bed. “What am I going to wear?”

The girl
clutched the bed and pulled herself up. “You should take a bath.
I'll check with the inn keeper and bring some clothes.”

Lya left her
and Brahm descended the stairs to the musty bathing room. With
kettles of hot water that warmed over a wood-burning stove, she
filled the tub. She tossed in a few rose petals to take away the
smell of the mud and grime. After a quick whiff of her body, she
decided she had better add a few more.

The hot water
soaked away her hurts, and Brahm rubbed her muscles. Days of little
use and already her legs and arms were feeling like mush. The water
turned lukewarm and she climbed out of the tub, careful not to slip
on the floor. Another whiff of her body and she exhaled.

Too many rose petals
.

Now she
smelled like an ugly whore.

Brahm dressed
in a garment that Lya had left for her. It had taken her quite some
time to arrive with it, but in the end all she managed to acquire
was a thin violet dress that was something close to cheesecloth.
Brahm muttered obscenities as she slipped it over her head. It
hugged her body.

Brahm abhorred
most things feminine. Yet as she stared at her reflection in the
mirror, she was forced to admit she cleaned up fairly well.

She shuffled
to the common room, gripping the wall for support, where she found
the others waiting. Diarmuid and White Feather were nursing a large
mug of ale each and Lya now sipped at a glass of a dark red liquid.
Brahm asked for ale as well and laughed at the unpleasant look she
received from the barmaid. She supposed she did not appear the
ale-drinking type at the moment.

White Feather
rose as she approached the table and she smiled inwardly at the
look on his face.

If his eyes
open any wider, they'll fall out.

He had never
seen her in anything so form-fitting, and the dress accentuated
every curve she had. She sat with her ale and the talk stopped.

“
What? Never seen a dress before?”

Both men were
speechless.

Brahm knew
Diarmuid had no reason to stare. He was probably surprised at the
sight of her. White Feather was another matter. His eyes shifted,
as if not knowing where to put them.

“
Well, I can see I am going to have to buy some new clothing,
as this doesn't seem to be very popular.”

Diarmuid
laughed. “You look great. You've just never looked so …
feminine.”

White Feather
cleared his throat. “You look very nice.” He choked on the rest of
his words, grabbing his ale and taking a hard swallow.

His comment
lacked the usual insinuation and Brahm smiled.

“
Thank you.”

An assortment
of characters filled the establishment, a low hum of chatter
filling the air. Brahm sipped her ale. The foursome talked of
little as they sat, listening instead to bits of conversation that
flitted about the room. After a time, Brahm felt a sickness at the
talk. Two men in the corner talked of the Confederation attacking
the monsters in the Westwood and that Haven was destroyed by
something they had conjured in the night. There was also mention
that none could cross the Mississippi at the moment, under
Confederation orders. Any ship caught crossing without the
Confederation’s permission would be sunk without question.

Others
muttered the same. Diarmuid and White Feather had a drawn look upon
their faces that she knew was a match for her own. When the food
arrived, she pushed her plate away, feeling she might retch. There
was a powerful feeling in her gut.

She looked
around. Outside the window stood ten horses, all bearing the emblem
of the Confederation Guard. Then she remembered the little man she
saw previously, and with the recognition of him came horror.

Imp!

“
We have to leave. Now. Get up quietly.”

She did not
wait for the others to respond and rose from the table. Her legs
wobbled and she clutched White Feather for support. The feeling in
her stomach worsened. The others did not question and rose, but too
late. Into the common room marched ten guards, armed with swords.
At their lead was a tall, black-skinned man with eyes that matched
Brahm's. The crest on his cloak showed him to be a captain of the
Confederation Guard. She faced his hard stare.

Brahm heard a
heavy thud beside her. Lya was collapsed on the ground. Behind the
girl, upon a chair, stood the stubby man she saw with the beer
earlier. He gripped an iron pot in his fat little hand.