VirtualWarrior (15 page)

A ripple washed down the snake’s body. The snake dropped
like a stone and slithered through the grass—straight at him. And past him. It
shot into the water.

Heart racing, mouth dry, Lien watched the snake zigzag
downstream.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” His hands shook a bit as he tied his
laces and pulled his tunic over his head. He jerked on his boots, snatched up
his walking stick, and hurried back to camp.

Ardra sat on her horse, ready to go.

“Sorry to hold you up,” he said. “But I ran into a huge
snake back there.”

“What color?”

“Black.”

“The black ones are lethal.” With a brisk nod, she turned
her horse and joined Ralen at the front of the company.

Ollach gave him a leg up, then thrust his long sword into a
saddle sheath. “I hear Einalem came back all wet and wearing that tunic I gave
you,” he said.

“She fell in the stream.” Lien took up his reins.

“Watch yourself. There are those who might use your behavior
against you.”

“Why? She fell in the stream. I didn’t invite her company,
and nothing happened. How could someone use that against me?”

Ollach raised an eyebrow. “Are you mad? You have no arm
rings. If you did not claim the pilgrim status, you would be condemned as a
runaway slave. There are those who would not hesitate to use any excuse to
challenge you, but most are wary of harming a celibate man. ‘Tis bad luck.”

“Celibate?”

“Aye. To forgo the pleasures of the flesh is an esteemed
choice, so it protects you—now. But if you prove lecherous, many will believe
you hide behind the vows for other reasons, such as eluding your master’s
grasp. Then they will act—for the reward if nothing else. And surely you know
that slaves without masters are fair game for those who wish to make a quick
fortune.”

So he was thought celibate. Well, hell. Was that what held
Ardra back? She thought he was celibate? And how did that make him look? He was
supposed to be a man of principle and at the first opportunity he’d forgotten
his vows. She must think he was the biggest hypocrite in Tolemac.

It didn’t matter. In fact, it helped. He might feel
obligated to watch Ardra’s back, but as long as he didn’t sleep with her, he
could leave her at the first opportunity.

Lien was damned tired of riding. What was a fun activity when
visiting friends in Maryland was just hard work after five or so hours. And now
that it was night, the outriders carried smoking torches that stung his eyes.

It also annoyed him that Ardra had resisted his efforts at
conversation. She must think he’d hooked up with Einalem.

“Deleh?” Lien guided his mount closer to the old woman.

She nodded.

“Tell me what you know of pilgrims hereabouts.”

“Pilgrims? They are usually traveling to Nilrem’s mountain
or perhaps the capital to see the priests. I have known pilgrims to go both
places for different matters.”

“And once they reach the capital?”

“They seek some penance or wisdom. If they get it, they
return home. Some pilgrims never find what they seek and so wander all their
days. ‘Tis an excuse to avoid gainful employment, if you ask me. ‘Tis laziness.
I hope you are not one of those.”

“Uh. Definitely not. I’ve always been gainfully employed.
Anything else you can tell me?”

“If you are a pilgrim, you should know.” Her eyes narrowed.

“I’m from across the ice fields. I’m just comparing
customs.”

“Ah. Well.” She pursed her lips. “Pilgrims are ofttimes lazy
souls, as I said. Lazy or not, they all eschew the pleasures of the bed. Some
might also refuse wine or meat until their penance is done. It depends, I
suppose, on what it is a pilgrim seeks, what deeds they feel they must atone
for.”

Damn.

“How much longer?” Ardra asked Ralen.

“It depends on whether you wish to arrive in the light or
the dark,” he said. “I could call a halt now, set camp, and then we would
arrive at the goddess’s fortress before the midday meal.”

“And the other alternative?”

“Ride through the night and arrive while the orbs are
overhead. It matters not to me.”

“We have wasted three days on this journey. I do not want to
waste a moment more,” she said.

“Then we will ride on.”

Ardra watched the sky each time a break in the tree canopy
appeared. When she finally saw the orbs directly overhead, the Tangled Wood
thinned.

Not much later they burst from the forest, and there at the
foot of a low hill sat a lake. Wisps of fog rose from its surface.

Energy surged through her. Was there something in the heavy
aroma of the flowers, so thick in the tree roots here, or was it the
anticipation of meeting the goddess that banished her fatigue?

Beyond the mist-shrouded lake, on a rise, the orbs silvered
the vine-covered walls of an ancient fortress. A tall tower hinted at a
substantial dwelling within.

“How appropriate that we should arrive in darkness to meet
the goddess,” she said to Ralen.

“I found her most amiable,” Ralen said. He reached over and
touched her hand.

“I am afraid,” she said, then wanted to bite her tongue that
she had revealed a weakness to this man who served Samoht. “Oh, what am I
saying? ‘Tis just the tales one is told, nothing more.”

“Aye, just the murmuring of old women to frighten children.”

“What frightens children?” Lien asked.

“Ask Einalem, pilgrim,” Ardra said, and regretted it the
moment he hauled on his reins and dropped behind to do just that. What had
possessed her to betray her jealousy in such a manner?

“How will we cross the lake?” she asked Ralen to cover her
confusion.

“We do not need to cross. It is a pretty thing, not a
defense. We have but to ride around it. An hour or so more. In fact, I wager we
will be met and escorted.”

Ralen pointed to the gleam of torches on the high tower of
the fortress. “The lookouts will inform her we have arrived. She will send out
riders.”

“What are her defenses if not this lake?”

“Naught but a long view and strong walls,” he said.

“And superstition,” Ardra added.

They rode along the lake’s shore in silence. Ralen’s men
rode with confidence, but his archers were wary, bows ready.

Servants and slaves who had wandered a bit from the close
ranks maintained by the warriors drew in, Lien and Nilrem among them. Was it
deliberate that the pilgrim who had avoided her for many hours now drew near?
She remembered Nilrem’s admonishment that Lien must make this journey to
protect her. Would she need protection?

“Look,” Lien said. He pointed to a black hole appearing in
the solid wall of the fortress. From it poured a procession of mounted men with
torches.

Ralen said, “She is prompt in opening her gates. It appears
we will be welcomed and given a bed for what remains of the night.” He issued
quick orders that everyone was to keep his sword sheathed.

Ardra felt a shiver of dread. She must not look for
reassurance from Ralen or Lien. Whatever happened here must be accomplished by
herself. Samoht must be satisfied it was she, and no other, who gained the
vial, or he would take her fortress and her son’s future.

The two parties met. Ralen explained who they were, and the
men from the fortress, garbed in a deep green that shimmered in the orb-glow,
dismounted and bowed to Samoht and Einalem. Ralen did not introduce Ardra,
though she held as much status in Selaw as Einalem in Tolemac.

They followed the men, who held their torches high. When
they passed over an ancient drawbridge, Ardra stared around in awe. Behind the
dark, vine-covered walls, all was light and beauty.

On the inside, the vines were more delicate, lacy even.
Their white flowers gave off a subtle perfume.

“Ardra,” Deleh said. “Where have we smelled this scent?”

“In the perfume we give to maidens on their tenth
conjunction.”

“A strange flower for the goddess to cultivate here,” Deleh
said and shivered. “I want my bed, Ardra.”

“Soon, Deleh, soon.”

The courtyard in which they dismounted, and where they left
all but a few of their men, was covered in a weathered mosaic. Ardra had seen
such tiled pictures in the Tolemac capital. This one was a simple design of
vines that led the eye to the great hall and the stone steps leading to white
double doors.

“Some place,” Lien said. He traced the tip of his stick
along the ancient tiles. “It seems the vines and flowers have been around a
long time.” His avid examination of the fortress reminded her of a child’s
simple pleasure in something new.

“Evil. It is all evil.” Deleh hooked her arm in Lien’s.

Ardra knew she must show neither Lien’s awe nor Deleh’s
fear. “It is a fortress much like any other.”

“I bow to your assessment.” Lien smiled; then his eyes
shifted. “Well, I’ll be.”

“You will be what?” Ardra asked, and then saw where his gaze
had settled.

The double doors had opened. On the top step stood a tiny
woman.
The goddess.

Her blonde hair, a streaky mixture of gold and the pure
white of the flowers, rippled down her back nearly to the floor. It might have
been night, but she was garbed as one should to greet a high councilor. Her
draped gown, the same shimmery green as her guards’ tunics, opened in a V to
reveal a heavy gold chain. Nestled between her ample breasts was a large dull
stone.

The Black Eye.

The goddess walked down the steps and dropped into a deep
curtsey before Samoht. She looked younger than Einalem. Too young for her evil
reputation.

Ralen introduced her. “Samoht, Esteemed High Councilor of
the Eight Chiefdoms, may I present Cidre, Goddess of the Tangled Wood.”

“I am honored to share my home with you,” the goddess said.

Lien whispered to Ardra, “What did Ralen call her?
Kid
what?”

“
Cid-re.
It means bright and beautiful.”

Lien thought there was a bit of jealousy in Ardra’s voice.
“No kidding,” he quipped.

“Nay, Lien. Cid-re.” She enunciated the name for him, and he
remembered that a beautiful woman usually had no sense of humor when it came to
another beautiful woman.

“Before you go in there, I have to tell you something.” He
took Ardra’s arm.

“It must wait.” She pulled away and stepped forward to be
presented, her heart in her throat.

Ralen introduced Einalem. The goddess curtseyed again, less
deeply, then held out her hand to the warrior.

“Welcome, Ralen. To what do I owe this visit so hard upon
your last?”

Ralen took the goddess’s hand; it looked like a small
child’s in his. “I am afraid we have not yet done with our quest for the Vial
of Seduction.”

The goddess frowned. “You have searched here, Ralen. There
is nothing to find.”

“We understand that,” Samoht said. “It is our hope that you
may help us in some other way.”

“You have a wiseman in your party—can he not help you?
Nilrem, is it not?” She did not bow to Nilrem or curtsey as she had to the
Tolemac high councilor and his sister. Nilrem leaned on his stick and sucked on
his lower lip. He looked as stupid as a stone. “Eh? Did someone say my name?”

“Forget him,” Samoht said. “We bow to what you know from the
ancient times as a wise woman. It is for knowledge we have come.”

The goddess touched the black stone on her chest. “There are
those who fear my knowledge.”

All around her, the slaves and servants of Samoht’s party
stepped back and huddled together.

The goddess smiled and held out her hands, palms up. The
wide sleeves of her robe fell back along plump, soft arms. “Come, do not be
afraid. I know the tales you spin in Tolemac about me. You call me the Goddess
of Darkness. Here I am but Cidre of the Tangled Wood, the daughter of a wise
woman. There is nothing to fear. I am no more cursed than this old wise
man
,”
she said, with a finger pointed at Nilrem.

She shrugged when no one moved closer to her. “I much enjoy
the tales. It suits me well to encourage them. It keeps away the rebels and
outcasts who might take it upon themselves to raid a small fortress such as
this. Come, Samoht, I bid you welcome.”

Samoht rapped out an order and the men hastened to their
tasks. The goddess linked her arm through his and they walked into the
fortress. Einalem and Ralen followed. Ardra stood alone by her horse,
unacknowledged and unsure how to proceed.

Lien took her elbow. “Get in there.”

“Aye,” Nilrem took her other elbow. “Samoht appears to be
helping you in your task, and that concerns me.”

“Yeah,” Lien said. “I don’t like it either. He’s made it
seem like he’s the one on the mission, not you.”

They flanked her to the doors, then gave her a little push
ahead of them. The guards flung wide the double doors.

“Wow,” Lien said.

Ardra did not know the word but understood the sentiment.
The doors opened on a dazzling white interior. She stared along with the
others, save Ralen who had seen it all before.

At one end of the lofty hall someone had used a mighty tree
to support the roof. Then Ardra realized it was not a support but a live tree,
its tangled roots bursting from the floor, its thick branches vanishing through
the roof.

“Where do you think the tree ends? It does not protrude from
the roof. We would have seen it from across the lake.” Nilrem scratched his
head.

Lien shrugged. “Who knows?”

How the tree lived Ardra did not know, for the center of the
trunk had been hollowed out and lined with stone to hold huge logs. The fire
burned with an intensity that caused everyone to shed his cloak. But it was not
for the soothing warmth, Ardra suspected, that the men collected about the
hearth.

Nay, some canny artist had carved the roots into naked
women, their sexuality emphasized to the point of mockery.

The effect was of women dancing about the base of the tree
whose heart burned, impervious to the flames. A blue-hawk’s
caw
drew her
eyes to a lofty branch. “A predator bird in a predatory woman’s lair,” Lien said
under his breath.

“I see you are admiring my hearth,” the goddess said, for
the first time directing her remarks to Ardra. “The tree is said to be as old
as time.”

Close up, the goddess was even more beautiful than from a
distance. Her skin glowed with youth, and her eyes, Tolemac blue, gleamed with
a hint of amusement.

Ardra realized it was not possible for this goddess to have
caused her mother’s death. Cidre appeared even younger than Einalem. It must
have been Cidre’s mother instead. Did the woman yet live? Was she here, perhaps
above stairs?

“It is a great feat of building to make the hall around a
tree this size,” Lien said. He bowed to the goddess.

“‘Twas built to honor the first goddess and her mating
ceremony,” Cidre said.

“Mating ceremony?” Lien inspected the dancing women, then
shrugged. “If you say so.”

“Who are you, may I ask?” The goddess smiled at him. Ardra
felt a surge of jealousy, but it was not the tearing kind she had felt when she
had seen him so close to Einalem in the stream.

“I am Lien, a pilgrim. I met up with Nilrem and he invited
me along.”

“May I see your stick?” She put out her hands. When Lien
passed it to her, she closed her fingers about his and they stood there a
moment, the stick clasped between them. “I am mistaken. I thought the stick
might be made of sacred oak.”

A ripple of unease ran through Ardra to see Lien’s
sun-darkened hands covered by the goddess’s milk-white ones.

“I sense great turbulence in you,” the goddess said before
releasing the stick.

Ardra said, “Is it not the nature of the pilgrim to be in
turmoil? Else why would he need to make a pilgrimage?”

“Well put,” Lien said.

The goddess acknowledged Ardra’s words with a nod. “Come,
see the tree up close.”

Ardra tried not to let her revulsion show when Cidre took
her arm. Cidre might not be the woman who had caused her mother’s death, but
she practiced the same arts that had.

The goddess led Ardra to the tree, where Samoht and Einalem
were admiring the artwork. Each life-size carving represented the female
dancers who entertained the male before a mating ceremony. They served to
arouse the man so that he might be ready for his lifemate.

Samoht murmured something to Ralen, then stroked the thigh
of one of the figures. Ralen smiled and glanced at Einalem, who kissed the air
in his direction.

Ardra knew well what a mating ceremony was and had no wish
to see it immortalized in wood or stone or any other material.

She removed her arm from the goddess’s grasp when the woman
fell into conversation with Samoht. Ardra went to the foot of a mundane
staircase built from common wood by a less imaginative carpenter. Lien joined
her.

“Have you noticed anyone missing?” he asked her.

“Nay.” She scanned the crowd. “Who?”

“Cidre’s consort. Where do you think he is?”

“Abed? He is said to be old. And what of Cidre’s mother?
Where is she?”

“I didn’t know her mother would be here,” Lien said.

The goddess gave a flurry of orders, and before Ardra knew
it, everyone had quarters for the night, hot water for bathing, as well as
bread and wine to stave off hunger until morning.

Ardra was given a large chamber, the first indication the
goddess knew she was more than a serving woman in Samoht’s party.

Ardra bathed away the tension and dirt of travel, then
pulled a loose woolen robe over her head. She knelt on the bed to comb out her
hair. Come the sunrising, should she ask for a private meeting with the goddess
to discuss the Vial of Seduction?