Authors: Bertrice Small
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #General, #Historical
“I will leave a contingent of men here, my lady Gillian,” the old guardsman said. “We must report this incident to the authorities. A search must begin immediately for any other tunnel entries beneath the houses of The City.”
“Thank you for all your help,” Lady Gillian said. “Be certain that the emperor will learn of your devotion to duty. And Lord Jonah, too.”
The old guardsman bowed gallantly and left them.
“Come back to my house,” Vilia said.
Gillian shook her head. “It is here we have hatched our plots and here that Lara will come back to us, Vilia,” she said.
“Then I will remain with you,” Vilia answered. “We should try to get word to Lara of what has happened. Perhaps if we just call to her she will come to us.”
“We can try,” Gillian responded. Together the two women walked back upstairs to Gillian’s apartments.
Both women bathed themselves in Gillian’s private bath and then donned fresh garments. They discussed quite frankly their encounter with the Wolfyn males, noting that indeed below the neck they were quite human if perhaps a bit larger. And both admitted to have obtained pleasures with their partners but then swore each other to secrecy with a smile. When they had settled themselves again they decided to call out to Lara and see if she would come to them. She had told them that she would.
“My lady Domina, Lara of Terah, please come to us,” Gillian said. “We need you.” They waited.
And then after a short time Lara appeared in her colored haze. “Why have you called to me?” she asked them.
“The Wolfyn found another way into The City,” Gillian began.
“We believe we have stopped them for now,” Vilia added.
“Tell me,” Lara said, her face suddenly grave. When would this all end?
They explained what had happened and Lara nodded finally.
“There could be more tunnels,” Vilia said. “And we cannot be certain if our oily flames have stopped the Wolfyn from the tunnel beneath this house.”
Prince Kaliq, heed my call. Come to me from out yon wall,
Lara intoned.
At once the handsome Shadow Prince was with them and Lara explained her need for him. Kaliq nodded. “We shall seal all the tunnels,” he told them. “I had forgotten about them as they have not been used in centuries.” Then he turned to both Gillian and Vilia. “You were very brave, my ladies. Hetar can be proud of you both. You are heroines.”
“Hetar must never know,” Vilia said quietly and Gillian nodded in agreement.
“You fear what people would say?” the prince asked.
“I am wife to the emperor’s right hand,” Vilia replied. “That Gillian and I saved The City by yielding our bodies to these Wolfyn would not be considered an honorable act. My husband would be embarrassed and it could harm his ambitions. Whatever I may be, my lord prince, I love Jonah. I did not seduce him and cuckold Gaius Prospero on a whim. There is no need for Hetar to know what happened.”
The prince bowed again and nodded to her. “It will be as you wish, my lady.” He bowed to Lara and Gillian, then faded into the shadows of the room.
“What of the guardsmen who helped us?” Gillian wondered aloud.
“They will remember nothing more than that Vilia sought their aid when a trio of Wolfyn invaded Lady Gillian’s home. And that Lady Gillian kept the Wolfyn entertained and at bay with wine and promises until the guard arrived. Then the tunnel was discovered, oil poured into it, and fired. The Wolfyn were killed or beaten back and the tunnels now sealed by Prince Kaliq,” Lara said. “It is all anyone need know about this matter. You will both be commended for your bravery before it is forgotten.”
“Thank you,” Lady Gillian said quietly.
“Can you tell us what is happening?” Vilia asked.
“The combined forces of Hetar and Terah are even now being transported into position,” Lara told them. “Some have been placed behind the Wolfyn encamped outside of the city waiting to attack. Within The City Terahn forces have joined with the remaining Crusader Knights and the Mercenaries. They are now massing before the main gates of The City. Your husband has been returned, my lady Vilia, but he is with the troops. Even now the guardsmen are going through The City warning the folk to remain indoors this day. Those without homes are being sheltered by whomever will take them in.”
“Send me women and children,” Lady Gillian said. “I have more than enough room. Vilia, will you remain and help me?”
To Lara’s surprise Lord Jonah’s wife nodded. “I’ll stay,” she said.
“Where are your servants?” Lara asked Gillian.
“I let them go to their families if they chose,” the older woman answered. “All but old Rona, my baker, who has no family.” Then Gillian paled. “The Wolfyn came from the cellars. If they passed by the kitchens…” Her voice trailed off.
“I smell baking bread,” Vilia noted.
“I will go and see for you,” Lara said. The two mortal women had had more than enough this day, she thought. She knew what
entertaining
the Wolfyn would have involved. Gillian’s bravery hardly surprised her but Vilia’s certainly did. She left them and went down to the kitchen where she found the poor baker dead in a chair. With a wave of her hand Lara sent the body to its grave and then removed the loaves of bread from the ovens. Returning to Gillian and Vilia she told them the baker had been killed by the Wolfyn and that old Rona had been disposed of with honor. “Now I must leave you,” she said.
“Where will you go?” Vilia asked her.
“First home to tuck my children into their beds, for it is night now in Terah. Then I shall return to fight in the battle that is to come. Remember, Hetar is the land of my birth. With the blessing of the Celestial Actuary we may defeat the forces of the Twilight Lord this day.” And then she was gone from them.
“What an unusual creature she is,” Vilia noted. “In the midst of all this chaos she thinks of her children. I would not have thought her a good mother given her life.”
“I suspect when she does not have the weight of our worlds upon her slender shoulders, she is happiest being nothing more than a wife and a mother,” Gillian remarked.
“Do you think her children have magic?” Vilia wondered.
“Mayhap, although their fathers have been mortal,” was the reply. Then Gillian said briskly, “We had best prepare for the women and children we are to shelter,” as a knock sounded upon her front door downstairs.
Throughout The City the doors and windows of every available building were being shut and barred. The morning was breaking, but the skies above were gray and dark clouds loomed on the horizon. Those on the walls could see the fires of the Wolfyn encampment and the shadowed figures of the enemy hurrying back and forth. They saw the fire machines anchored in their pits, kettles of pitch burning next to them. Tightly woven balls of oily wool stacked in piles next to the kettles were to be dipped into the pitch and flung from catapults. The fire machines would be used to destroy enough of The City to bring its inhabitants to their knees in abject surrender. Many could die.
Hrolleif, the high commander of the Wolfyn, paced back and forth within his tent. He had lost his favorite nephew, Ulf, whose head had been thrown from the battlements of The City along with Rolf and Fernir’s. Hrolf and at least a dozen other Wolfyn had been roasted within the tunnel when it had been set afire. He had been mad to even consider using the tunnel. Battling face-to-face with an enemy was far preferable to sneaking up on him. Hrolleif looked into the reflecting bowl on his camp table.
“My lord, we are almost ready,” he said.
The Twilight Lord’s face appeared upon the surface of the water. “Try not to destroy everything or kill everyone,” he cautioned his general. “And remember that the faerie woman is mine. She is not to be harmed. As for the rest of them I care not what you do. Slay her husband if you can.”
“And the Hetarian hierarchy, my lord?”
“Kill its pompous emperor. You may have the empress for yourselves. I do not want her but I believe she will scream quite nicely for you, Hrolleif,” Kol said.
The Wolfyn commander smiled toothily. “What of the rest of them?”
“Leave them be for now. I believe I may have kin among them and I should never kill my kin,” Kol murmured. “Family is so important, is it not?”
“Indeed, my lord. Will Skrymir and his giants be joining us?”
“The traitor has deserted us, but one day we will repay him for his perfidy,” Kol said darkly.
“Do not fret yourself, my lord,” Hrolleif said. “My Wolfyn and I can take The City easily and then will Terah fall to us,” he boasted.
“Be certain that you do,” Kol said, his dark voice heavy with menace. And then his image disappeared from the watery surface of the reflecting bowl.
“We are ready to attack, Commander Hrolleif,” his second’s voice announced.
“Then let us begin,” Hrolleif said. “I want to spend my evening in one of those Pleasure Houses for which Hetar is so famed,” he growled as he walked outside to view his troops. They were a fine-looking bunch, he thought. He raised his hand in signal. At once those on the great horned battering ram began to pound upon the main gates of The City, but try as they might, and despite Hrolleif’s roars of encouragement, the gates did not give way in the slightest.
Up on the walls the Hetarian soldiers looked down and laughed until the tears rolled down their faces. They knew their gates were secure thanks to the Shadow Princes. There would be no battle until they were ready. The Wolfyn howled with their anger and frustration.
Hrolleif had not planned on using the fire machines until the last, but now he signaled to the soldiers standing by them to begin hurling some of their pitch-covered balls into The City just to teach these arrogant Hetarians a lesson. The first three fireballs soared toward the roofs of The City, but then as Hrolleif watched in amazement the fireballs seemed to hit some barrier and they bounced back to his encampment, setting several tents afire. He roared with his fury as his attack on The City came to a halt while the Wolfyn scurried to put out the fires before the entire camp was ablaze. The Hetarians on the wall roared with their laughter.
And then suddenly the gates to The City opened wide, revealing a great army which marched out to meet his own men. And when they had all exited, Hrolleif saw a great platform set up in the open gates. On it sat the fat and foolish emperor of Hetar and his beautiful wife, along with other dignitaries including the faerie woman, Lara, his master Kol’s mate. But the faerie was not garbed as befit a woman. Instead, she wore tight-fitting doeskin breeches that clung to her supple form, a white shirt, and over it a small golden breastplate. The long golden gilt hair he remembered was hidden beneath a golden helmet and upon her back was a sword the like of which he had never seen. Even from here he could see there was something special about the weapon. Why would a beautiful woman carry such a weapon? Women did not own weapons.
Hrolleif suddenly realized that men and Wolfyn were fighting all around him, and he swung his sword, engaging the enemy in battle as he had been taught so long ago. He battled his way through the mass of fighting men, something seeming to lead him onward toward the platform in the gate. And then suddenly he found himself standing before the faerie woman, Lara. “Woman!” he shouted. “Step aside!” But she did not. Instead she drew her weapon from its scabbard and raised it aloft. Hrolleif was astounded.
Her green eyes were like ice and he felt the cold as if he had been encased in it. Her great sword met his, metal clanging noisily against metal. He drew back. He didn’t want to fight her. She was Kol’s mate. It was his duty to return her to the Dark Lands so his master would be happy again and would reward him. But then he saw the glowing eyes of a face in her sword’s hilt. And he heard a deep dark voice begin to sing.
“I am Andraste, companion to the mighty swordswoman, Lara. I have come to drink the blood of the evil ones.”
“Come, Hrolleif,” Lara’s voice mocked him. “Surely you are not afraid of a mere woman? If I allow you to live, how will you explain it to Kol?”
“I would rather die with my own sword in my hand than face the Twilight Lord with my failure,” Hrolleif said.
“So be it,” Lara told him. They began to battle in earnest.
He was a good opponent. He was strong but Lara was quicker and, Hrolleif soon realized, far more skilled than he was. He was astounded by her expertise. For every blow he offered, she blocked him. Twice she blooded him. Her sword sang as it tasted his flesh. He had never imagined that any woman could be so fine a warrior. But he fought on, for to yield to a woman was simply unthinkable. About them the fighting slowly stopped as both sides watched the two battle. The other Wolfyn were shocked that their commander would even engage a woman in battle, but they could see Lara was no ordinary warrior. The sound of metal on metal resounded loudly about the battlefield. Hrolleif was visibly tiring. He stumbled over his own feet and Lara stepped back to allow him to regain them. If it had been her, Hrolleif thought, I would have killed her. He struggled to his feet. He could feel his heart laboring hard in his chest cavity. He was near his end—he sensed it. Then an icy chill went down the backs of both friend and foe as the mighty sword Andraste began to sing once again.
“I am Andraste. Yield to the swordswoman, Lara of Terah, Hrolleif of the Dark Land. Yield or die! I am Andraste, and I am prepared to drink your blood, oh servant of the evil one! Yield or die!”
Lara fought the high commander of the Wolfyn fiercely, driving him to his knees. Then their eyes met in complete understanding and she quickly thrust Andraste into Hrolleif’s heart and as quickly withdrew it. He fell forward and his second raced to his side to seek a pulse. There was none. Suddenly all the Wolfyn raised their heads to the dark skies and howled. A moment later, however, the full battle was renewed. None would dare fight the faerie woman, so she withdrew to the platform within the open gates of The City and watched as the ground was flooded in blood, until every Wolfyn lay dead, caught between the army before them and the one behind, which had advanced from the Coastal Province.