VirtualWarrior (7 page)

“You have no arm rings. You are not a warrior.” She tossed
her head.

The action did something to his insides. “Where I’m from,
we’ve stopped wearing arm rings. We get tattoos instead.” At her blank look, he
explained. “A tattoo is a marking on the skin that’s permanent. You did notice
that the snake coils three times around my arm?” Thank God for that little
coincidence. “And the scale pattern is in the pattern of the Shield.”

“You can be naught but a slave without arm rings.”

“Maybe here, but not in Ocean City.”

“Ocean City…your place? I knew someone from Ocean City
once.”

She said no more, and he decided he wasn’t going to mention
Vad or Gwen until he found out how they stood in the memory of this world.

“My men are troubled by the question of your status. They do
not know how to treat a man who has no arm rings.”

“So I’ll pick up a few somewhere.” What would her reaction
be to that crime of crimes?

Ardra’s eyes grew wide. She touched a gloved hand to her
breast. “And have your belly slit and your entrails roasted while you still
live? How can you make such a jest? To steal arm rings…to wear ones you have
not earned…the penalty is appalling.”

“Arm rings or no arm rings, I’m a retired warrior who became
a merchant and is on a pilgrimage. Nothing more.” He tugged on his reins and
let his horse drop to the rear of the company.

Ardra thought about Lien’s tale. She knew of two people who
had come from across the ice fields. One good. One evil. Both had disappeared.
What manner of man was this one?

Her memory of the attack told her that Lien had appeared as
if from the very air. But perhaps it was only her fear that had made it appear
so.

It was a mistake to think a comely man was honest and good.
Samoht, the high councilor, was quite beautiful, but she knew he could be ugly
in word and deed.

Lien was alluring, perhaps dangerously so. His voice was
seductive, his tale amusing. Yet he must be a man who had committed grave deeds
to undertake a pilgrimage to Nilrem’s mountain.

She was grateful that Lien was a pilgrim. The rest of his
status, whether runaway slave or wealthy merchant, mattered little.

Lien, the pilgrim, could be set from her mind. Ollach could
worry about him, not she. After all, what good did it do her to think of this
man?

Certain women might be thrilled to find a runaway slave.
‘Twas thought they made excellent bed partners. A runaway slave would be
desperate to please or he might find himself sold in the common marketplace or,
worse, returned to an angry master.

An uncanny heat curled in her belly, but she ignored it. She
was not interested in bed play. It pleased the man well, but the woman little.

Nilrem called to Lien and pointed toward the thick line of
trees ahead. Lien was unlike any of the fair-haired warriors who rode at her
side. He was lean and well browned as if he walked about naked in the sun. The
image brought a return of the quick, hot heat in her loins.

She imagined that Lien had charmed more than his share of
woman to bed play in the past, but what had she to fear of him this day? If
Lien was truly a pilgrim as he said, he had no need of women—nor desire for
them, either.

Pilgrims were celibate.

Lien complimented himself on his pilgrim tale. It muddied
the water about his status. In the game, pilgrims were protected, no matter
what their original occupation. It was considered bad luck to kill a pilgrim.
That thought warmed his innards.

Of course, he imagined that slaves weren’t permitted to be
pilgrims, but if he said he wasn’t a slave enough times, maybe Ardra would
eventually believe it.

He didn’t really believe much in omens or such, but it did
seem more than a coincidence that he had entered the game at the very moment
when Ardra needed help. Somehow he thought it might be bad luck to just walk
away from her…at least for a while.

He didn’t much care for the mood of her men, though. Once
they set foot on the barely perceptible path into the forest, they began
murmuring amongst themselves when Ardra was out of earshot.

Nilrem called a halt to the party at dawn. Deep in the
woods, the blood-red sun announced its presence with a strange light as if the
trees were on fire. Nilrem stood up in his cart and gestured for all to gather
about him.

“I have made an important decision,” the wiseman began.
“Mistress Ardra, I ask that your party leave me behind.” He touched the staff
on which he leaned. “This cart cannot keep pace with the rest of you. Neither
can I ride a horse for many miles. Therefore, I suggest you leave me with a man
or two as guards and proceed at full speed.”

Ardra bit her lip. “Will Tol not need you?”

Nilrem climbed awkwardly from his cart. He hugged her. “I
fear Tol will have no need of either healer or wiseman.”

Lien watched her. Her eyes glittered a moment, but then she
donned a cold manner.

“It will be as you suggest.” She turned toward her men and
indicated two, then spoke to Lien. “And you, pilgrim. You came to seek the
wiseman, so it seems most fitting you tend him.”

Before he could open his mouth, Nilrem spoke. “I fear,
mistress, you must take Lien with you. He saved you at the precise moment the
conjunction began. You must agree ‘tis an omen.”

She fisted her hands on her hips. “I do not agree. He is
useless to me. He does not ride well; he might be a runaway slave. He is—”

“Take him. I see it in the stars.” Nilrem spoke softly, and
Ardra’s men murmured and glanced from one to another.

Lien grinned. Not because he wanted to be in Ardra’s party
over Nilrem’s, but because he could almost see steam coming out of Ardra’s
ears. “I know when I’m not wanted. I’ll be happy to stay with Nilrem.”

Ollach stepped forward. “Mistress, we have entered a place
of magic. I must caution going against the wiseman’s words.”

Nilrem nodded. “Mistress Ardra, you must take Lien with you.
I feel it in my old bones. He is needed in some way.”

Lien looked at the old man but could detect no humor in his
face. In fact, as Nilrem leaned toward Ardra, he seemed to be urging her to
obey him with every fiber of his body.

Ardra dropped into a deep curtsey. What did the
old-fashioned gesture mean? Capitulation? A nod to something greater than
herself? A belief in magic?

While Ardra’s men distributed the wagon’s provisions among
their saddles, Nilrem stumped over to him. “Listen to me, young Lien. This is
the Goddess of Darkness’s domain. Tread lightly here, I warn you.”

“Look, what possible good can I be to Ardra? As she said, I
don’t ride that well, and my vow says I can’t pick up a sword, so why not let
me stay with you?”

“She will take you through the forest and to the border
between Selaw and Tolemac. From such a location you can make your choice, go in
any direction. But you may also prove of some use. Have you no sense of
responsibility to this woman whose life you saved?”

“No. None. Don’t put that on me.” He hadn’t been able to
preserve his mother’s life despite the marvels of modern science and
psychology; how could he do any better in a primitive world of weapons and
superstition? “I saved her; I’m done with her.”

“Then simply take advantage of these many men who may
protect you on your journey. Remember, your status is in doubt. Ardra owes you
her life. She will not take such a debt lightly.”

Lien looked around. Nilrem would have three warriors and the
cart. Ardra had about a dozen retainers. Some were servants, but most were men
with swords. If he stayed with Ardra, he’d get the nickel tour for free, food
and lodging included. “Okay. I’ll stay with Ardra.” Once made, the decision
felt right.

“Remember one other thing, young man. Once you have claimed
the debt she owes you, ‘tis claimed. You cannot call on her twice. So pick your
time wisely.” Nilrem bowed and Lien returned it.

He assisted the old man into the cart. For the first few
miles, the old man and his party kept pace, but gradually they fell behind.
Twice Ardra lifted her hand, and twice her men picked up their pace, wending
deeper into the forest.

The Tangled Wood was unlike anything Lien had ever seen.
Giant trees towered overhead, their huge branches forming a canopy that blocked
out the light in many places. The roots, as thick as his arms, erupted from the
trunks, then twisted on each other before disappearing into the earth. Despite
the lack of light, vines intertwined with the roots, some with white flowers
shaped like teacups. The effect was a sea of vines around the base of each
tree. It was difficult to tell where one tree began and another ended.

“Have you ever been here before?” Lien asked Ollach.

“Nay. ‘Tis an evil place. This path we ride is said to have
been hewed from the forest in the ancient time. No one remembers who performed
the task. ‘Tis said to be a road of magic, trod by the Goddess and her
minions.”

“Jolly.”

Ardra’s entourage made too much noise for Lien to catch
sight of animals or birds. He saw only the pale shadows of deer that looked as
white as snow.

The deeper they went, the darker the forest grew. After a
few hours, Ardra ordered torches lit, and although Lien guessed it was about
midafternoon, they needed the glow of the smoking flames to see where they were
going.

Every now and then they would burst into a clearing. The sky
overhead, a dazzling bowl of amethyst, might tell everyone else it was still
day, but it told Lien he was definitely not in his own world.

His sense of euphoria lasted until his rear began to ache.
He was grateful when Ardra called a halt. Her men took advantage of the short
stop to take naps. Twelve hours of solid sleep wouldn’t have been enough for
Lien.

“I should have stayed with Nilrem,” he said to Ardra when
she stopped at his side.

She sank down in a pool of green skirts and took his arm.
Her fingers were gentle as she untied the bandages and inspected her work. For
the first time, she smiled. Lien found himself staring.

“Why?” she prompted. “Why should you have stayed with
Nilrem?”

“I think I left my ass a few miles back.”

She laughed. It was a low, throaty sound. “You cannot have
been a warrior if you do not know you ride a horse, not an ass.”

“No. Ass.” Lien rubbed his backside. “Where I come from,
this part of the body is sometimes referred to as an ass.”

She ducked her head and inspected her work. “I see. Forgive
my ignorance of your ways.”

He placed his hand over hers. “No. Forgive me for my
impolite behavior. My mother would be appalled.” Then he remembered that his
mother wasn’t around to care about anything. In fact, hadn’t cared much about
him or herself for a long time.

Ardra took his hand. “You look troubled. Is something
wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m impressed with that gray goop,
whatever it is.”

“You are troubled by thoughts of your mother, are you not?
Is she ill?”

He stood up and rolled his sleeve down. “My mother’s dead.”

Ardra rose and stood before him. “I sense ‘tis a recent
thing, her passing. If so, you will understand my need to get to Tol.”

“Sure, I understand. I just don’t understand the rest of all
this.” He swept a hand out to her men. “How can Ralen help you?”

“He has influence. I did not finish with your arm. Hold it
out, pilgrim.”

“What of your own influence?” Lien did as she asked. She
wrapped his arm in fresh bandages and tied it snugly.

“A woman has no influence in Tolemac and little in Selaw. I
had only the influence Tol allowed me. With his passing…”

“You love him?” Lien felt it important to know if he was
lusting after a grieving widow, or a soon-to-be grieving widow.

Whoa. Where had that thought come from?

“I love him.” She said it with great heat, then turned and
watched her men. “He is like no other man I have ever met. He is my teacher,
and I his student. He taught me to understand my people, to listen to their
needs, and find a way to alleviate their suffering.”

“I gather he’s older than you.” He watched emotions play
over her face.

“He is my mentor. The father of my dear son. I will never
replace him. Never.”

“Then we’d better get to him quickly.”

A shadow dropped over her face. It took him a moment to
realize it was a net. Without thought, he reached out and scooped her up, net
and all. In two strides he was off the road. Trapped in the net, she screamed.
He hissed at her to be silent.

Nets dropped all around them, engulfing the warriors,
tangling horses, smothering torches. Men garbed in rags dropped on the hapless
travelers, flailing clubs and shouting. Lien remained miraculously free.

He glanced about at the writhing mass of nets and men to be
sure he was unobserved, then slipped into a gap in a tangle of tree roots. He
pushed deep into a cave of greenery. Ardra squirmed in his arms.

“Ardra. Stop it.” She lay instantly still. He tried to find
the edges of the net and failed. He could feel the rapid panting of her breath
on his face. “I need your dagger to cut you free,” he whispered at her ear.

She wriggled in his arms; then something poked him in the
stomach. He worked his fingers into the netting and pulled out her knife.
Carefully so as not to cut her, he sawed the strands of the net apart. It was
made of the vines that entangled the tree roots. They were tough but finally
parted, and he helped her struggle free of their grip. Then, to help conceal
her further, he pulled her hood up and over her hair.

He held up a finger for her to be silent. “Keep your head
down. I’m going to see what I can do.”

He crawled out of the roots. He couldn’t fight the men from
the trees, not with one tiny dagger. He duck-walked to the closest warrior and
cut him free. It was Ollach. With a finger to his lips, Lien pointed left, then
right to indicate the direction that each should take.

All around Lien, men were shouting, horses thrashing, and
women screaming. He slid along the ground, cutting the mesh and freeing
warriors. Each man drew his sword and began to slash and cut at their ragged
enemies, who had only clubs for weapons. In moments, it was all over. The men
from the trees swarmed up the trunks and with shrieks and howls abandoned the
fight.

Ardra’s men sheathed their swords, cut the remaining
prisoners free, then began to inspect the wounded.

Lien crawled into Ardra’s shelter, offered her his hand, and
tugged her from her hiding place. She walked slowly around the camp, speaking
to each person and making use of her pouch of gray goo where needed. Lien
walked behind her and watched.

The cook had a goose egg on his forehead. His fat face
gleamed with sweat, and he trembled. “Mistress, we must move on.” The man’s
eyes swept the lush canopy over their heads.

“Aye, we will do so.” She patted his shoulder. “After Ollach
and his men bury the dead. Luckily, none of them are ours.”

Lien took her arm and helped her up. She did not remove it
as they continued the inspection of her men. When they were ready to mount
their horses, he looped his fingers together and she placed her boot in his
palm, one hand on his shoulder.

“Lien,” she said before he boosted her into the saddle.
“Again, I owe you my life.” The hood slid off her head. She looked disheveled
and weary.

“I guess I’m not so completely useless, and you have a leaf
in your hair.”

“I will not forget your help.” She lifted her hands, and ran
them through her hair, and plucked out the leaf. For a moment, she sat there,
the leaf between her fingers. “This is a rare find.” Then she extended it to
him. “Keep it. For luck.”

The leaf was thick and glossy, shaped like a spade in a deck
of cards. It was odd. He saw no other trees nearby that had leaves shaped in
the same way. He shrugged and tucked it into his tunic.

“Against your wound,” she said. “It comes from the Tree of
Valor. ‘Tis said the old ones used it to heal.”

“Old ones?”

“Aye. The old ones who once inhabited the forest. They
disappeared hundreds of conjunctions ago. Many say because they feared the
goddess.”

His horse was led forward by Ollach, and Lien knew he was
going to have to mount up, sore ass or not. “So this goddess is immortal?”
Right.
And fairies sing.

“Nay, Lien. Each goddess trains her firstborn daughter to
carry on her evil.”

Ardra posted two warriors, one in front and one behind, to
keep an exclusive watch overhead as they traveled on. Would it be enough? What
else might befall them? Luckily no one of theirs had been killed.

Lien rode at her side, and it somehow seemed right to do so.
She now owed him twice for her life.

“If there’s a daughter goddess, there must be a god
somewhere.”

Ardra glanced at him. Curious marks were blooming across his
cheek. A puffiness distorted the fine line of his jaw. “A consort. Goddesses
take consorts. It is said that one may know him because he will be wearing the
goddess’s Black Eye.”