Elyon's Blades, page 27
part #1 of The Daughters of Elyon Series
Sábria sat forward. “More to the point, is there anything we can do to ameliorate the problem?”
While Isobel could converse in most of the languages spoken around the Cibían Empire, that was a word she hadn’t come across before. “Ameliorate? I’m fairly fluent in your language, My Lady. But there are some words that escape me.”
“In other words, can we get back the Ailith I’ve come to know and love? For the most part, nearly everyone we accept into the Temple becomes, at the very least, an adequate Blade. The majority, given the caliber of people we accept, become excellent at what they do. Over a period of time—as long as they aren’t killed, or they don’t do something so egregious that I strip them of their Blade status—I come to know and appreciate each and every one. But there are a few who catch my eye. Those, whom I believe the Goddess herself had a hand in bringing into her service, become very special to me. Ailith, for all of her foibles and mischief and often downright disrespect, has found a place in my heart. Please, tell me we can get back the indomitable spirit I found in that young woman.”
This Priestess couldn’t have won Isobel over to any greater extent than she’d just done with her touching and poignant speech. Sábria was seated at the head of the table, and, hoping not to give offense, the knight covered the Priestess’ hand with her own and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “I believe so, My Lady. Cori believed it, too, and I intend to remain here as long as it takes to bring her back to us.”
A wellspring of gratitude and relief rose in Sábria, and tears filled her eyes. She swallowed hard, trying to get her emotions under control. After a moment, she wiped away the lone tear that had escaped. “You’re welcome to stay with us as long as you like, Isobel, and we’ll do everything we can to help. Now please, tell us what you and Cori discovered so that we, too, might know what it is we’re dealing with.”
Isobel sat back and crossed her arms. Her brows lowered as she tried to put into words what they’d learned. “It’s a strange psychological imbalance that’s triggered by very specific events. Apparently, after they’d had the breeding program going for about twenty-five turns or so, a number of the berserkers developed problems when faced with overwhelming emotional trauma. Specifically, trauma that triggered anger and rage. It didn’t appear in the majority of men and women within the breeding program. But for a select few, it was definitely a problem.”
Isobel’s stomach rumbled, and she placed a hand on her stomach. “Well, that’s not very dignified, is it?” She picked up her fork and took a few bites of green beans before washing them down with her tea.
Smiling at the interruption, Sábria ate a few bites of her meal and was soon followed by Shirin and Haria.
Shirin raised her brows. “I don’t know about you two, but I always know when Monita adds her special spices to the potatoes.” She glanced at Isobel. “Monita’s husband was an abusive brute of a man who beat her and forced her to work in the kitchen of his ale house. One of our Blades discovered what was happening, offered Monita sanctuary here in the Temple, and her contributions in Mistress Fullman’s kitchens have been heavenly.” She ate another bite and watched Isobel try some.
Isobel’s brows rose. “Goddess, if all the food here is this tasty, I’ll have to take Ailith out for our daily runs twice instead of once every day.”
Setting her fork down, Sábria narrowed her eyes slightly and looked at a spot above Shirin’s head. “I’d forgotten that I used to see Ailith go out running every now and again. I didn’t realize it was something she’d do on a regular basis, though.”
“She did, and I intend to get her out again. But before I tell you what my plans are, let me finish telling you what’s happening.” She set her fork aside and absently pointed at Shirin with her little finger. “Back to the trigger. Say the person had close friends or relatives killed on the battlefield in a particularly heinous way, or perhaps they were either abused by Commanders or had close friends or family members abused or humiliated somehow.”
Shirin crossed her arms and said in a low growl, “Or had trash and horse manure and human excrement thrown into their room.”
“Exactly. Whatever the trigger was, they became enraged. And, on that note, you might be wondering why neither Duke Ravenkind nor I were outraged that something like that had happened to Ailith. We were. Believe me, we were outraged. However, as two people who have led large armies on extended campaigns, we both understand that leaders can’t be everywhere all the time. The fact that you reached out to Duke Ravenkind for help told us both that you were mortified about what had happened. The fact that you risked our censure and our anger to find help said that not only didn’t you have a part in that humiliation, but you were actively trying to find a way to make things right.”
Sábria’s face grew hard. “What I didn’t mention in my letter was that the eight Blades who participated in Ailith’s humiliation have been removed from my service as Blades. However, when someone joins the Temple, they join for life. So, every one of those women will work in some capacity in one of the thirty temples scattered around the Cibían Empire for the remainder of their lives.”
“In the Dreyuthan army, the remainder of their lives would have been very short, indeed.” Isobel’s eyes flashed with anger. “I can assure you, had any of them served under me, it would’ve been the sharpened edge of my sword that would have removed their heads from their shoulders.”
Silence followed Isobel’s words. While execution wasn’t one of the options available to Sábria, and, quite honestly, she’d never even considered the thought, she understood how in other cultures, it would’ve been considered a just option.
“Anyway, as I was saying, there’s a trigger similar to what you’d find, for example, on a crossbow. Once that trigger is pulled, and the arrow, or the rage, is loosed, there’s no stopping it. Unfortunately, instead of simply hitting the target, in this instance, the rage not only grows but it also begins feeding on itself. Are you familiar with our child’s tale of the leviathan that caught sight of his tail poking out from behind a rock and, thinking it was something tasty to eat, grabbed it in its jaws and began unwittingly feeding upon itself?”
Sábria nodded. “Yes, I believe we have a similar version here in the Empire, only it’s the wolf who awakens from a dream and sees his hind leg kicking. Thinking it’s a small rabbit, he grabs it and quickly devours his own leg.”
Shirin agreed, “In Tuviste, it’s an alligator.”
Raising her brows, Isobel followed up on the analogy. “Well, here in your Temple, it’s Ailith’s rage. And apparently, she neither realizes it’s happening nor can she do anything to stop it.” She raised a finger. “However, tucked into that parchment Cori and I discovered was a recipe for an herbal remedy that, when administered over a period of time, apparently slows the process down enough that we should be able to break through. Also, reading between the lines of his personal thoughts and notes, that same healer also hinted that if it’s at all possible to force the berserker back into a semblance of normality, the person just might be able to stop what the man termed ‘coiled emotions,’ or rage locked into a perpetual, ever-tightening spiral.”
Sábria thought of the consequences of an ever-tightening, unchecked rage choking out other thoughts or emotions. “All of that rage spinning into a fatal vortex that eventually destroys Ailith’s soul.” She tapped her finger against her wineglass, considering the implied message hidden in the side notes of an ancient healer's journals. “I wondered that myself, about forcing her back to normality, but to be honest, I wasn’t sure whether forcing the issue would make things better or would instead make matters worse. The look in her eyes right now isn’t insane. Commander Shirin and I both agree on that. It’s more feral.”
Isobel sat forward, snapped her fingers, and pointed at Sábria. “That’s the exact word that healer wrote in his notes. That the berserkers went feral. He made sure to stress that they weren’t a danger to others, but that they were definitely a danger to themselves.”
Haria, who’d been listening intently, knew exactly how she could help. “If you give me the list of herbs, I can make up enough for you to give her as many doses as she needs.”
“Thank you, My Lady. I’ll definitely take you up on your offer. Cori sent me with a full pouch, but I have the recipe, and when I begin to run short, that will be a great help.” Isobel turned to Sábria. “I’d like to meet with Ailith now and get a feeling for myself about how she’s faring. You should know I’ve never been a gentle or patient taskmaster, and I hope you don’t expect me to be so now.”
Shirin chuckled and scratched the side of her head, “We’re not exactly known for our gentleness either, Lady Isobel. Our people are well aware of that, and none will be shocked with however you end up dealing with Ailith. Just let us know what you need, and we’ll be at your service. I’ll let it be known that the Blades are to give you any assistance you require. All we ask,” she stopped, realizing what she was going to say might sound hypocritical given what Ailith had been through, but she pressed on anyway. “All we ask is that, if at all possible, you not humiliate her too much in front of the other Blades. She’ll be living with these women for the rest of her life, and we’ve found that public humiliation only breeds anger and contempt.”
Sábria crossed her arms and looked first at Shirin and then over at Isobel. “I did make an exception to that with the trainee who lied and publicly said that Ailith ran while she was the hero of the day. She publicly humiliated Ailith, and I publicly humiliated her.”
Isobel shrugged. “Again, I would have separated her head from her shoulders. And I mean that quite literally. So, she was very lucky to get off with a bit of public humiliation. Now, if you could take me to Ailith, we’ll see what needs to be done.”
Thirty-One
Sábria, Shirin, and Isobel walked beneath the arched breezeway and into the stables. Kemi was tending to a cut on one of the horse’s legs, and she looked up when they entered the stable. “She still filling in the ditch, My Lady. It’s about time for her to clean the stalls, though. Would you like me to fetch her?”
Isobel shook her head. “No. She’s out this way?” At Kemi’s nod, Isobel walked into the open yard behind the stables. She stopped when she saw Ailith shoveling the dirt from her pile down into the hole. In a quiet tone, she whispered, “Oh, Ailith. What have you done to yourself?”
The change in Ailith’s appearance was shocking. Her hair was long past her shoulders and stringy, practically every inch of her was covered in dirt, and her cheekbones stood out against her skin as if she were one of the starving masses scattered throughout Dreyutha during the last famine.
As though seeing Ailith for the first time through Isobel’s eyes, guilt rose so strongly within Sábria she almost turned to leave. Shirin’s understanding hand on her shoulder was the only thing that kept her rooted in place.
“Why is it that I can smell you while I’m still twenty paces away?”
Ailith froze with the shovel suspended in midair. There was no question she recognized the voice as that of her former knight master, and the fact that Isobel was here irritated her no end. She had no right to be here, to see her this way. She’d given up on her, hadn’t she? The great and powerful Lady Knight throwing her away was the reason she was here in the first place. She hadn’t been good enough for her, not educated enough, couldn’t keep her mouth shut. That’s what they’d said, wasn’t it? After a few moments, she threw the dirt down in the hole and turned to refill the shovel again.
The voice was closer the next time Isobel spoke. “If you don’t turn to face me when I speak to you, Ailith, you’ll be feeling my belt across your back.”
Ailith spun.
She still held the shovel in her hands, and if Isobel didn’t know better, she might have taken it as an aggressive stance rather than happenstance.
“Get th’ fowk out of here! Who th’ fowk do ya think ya are walkin’ in here and orderin’ me about? Get out!”
If Sábria hadn’t warned her, Isobel would have been startled, maybe even a little intimidated by the feral hatred in Ailith’s eyes. The only reason she didn’t flinch away was because of that warning. “That’s better. You’ll face me when I speak to you from now on. Now, like I said, you stink, and since we’re going to be spending a lot of time together in the near future, we need to get that stink off of you.” Isobel pointed behind her. “Now get to the bathing rooms, get yourself into a tub, and scrub that filth off.”
Ailith looked incredulous. “Spendin’ time together? Look, ya fowkin’ Dreyuthan bitch, we’re no spendin’ time together. I’m no spendin’ time with no one.” She turned and once more loaded the shovel with dirt.
Sábria, Shirin, and Kemi all watched to see what the knight’s reaction would be. They were surprised to see amusement in her eyes when she turned to them.
She pointed at Shirin. “You, I’ll need a clean uniform. Tunic and trews. The same ones the trainees wear. She’ll also need clean undratrews and a breast band too.”
Shirin grinned back and playfully brought her fist to her chest. “Yes, My Lady.” She turned and jogged back the way they’d come.
Next, Isobel pointed to Kemi. “You. I’ll need soap. The same stuff you use for the horses when they come in muddy after a rain.”
Kemi tugged on her bangs. “Aye, Milady.”
Now, she pointed to Sábria. “And you,” she leaned in and spoke very quietly, “stick around in case I need you to pull her off me.”
Even though Isobel was grinning, Sábria had the feeling she was very, very serious. “Whatever you need, Lady Knight.”
Isobel nodded, “Okay then.” She pulled in a tense breath, let it out, and the next time Ailith turned her back to fill the shovel, she covered the distance between them in three long strides. Grabbing the back of her tunic, she quickly stripped the shovel out of Ailith’s hand, then grabbed her belt, dragged her over to a horse trough, and threw her headfirst into the water.
Shocked, Ailith flailed about, managing to punch Isobel several times, once in the chest and once in the shoulder, and one glancing blow off her jaw.
She almost got her feet under her before Isobel jerked up on the belt, pushed down on the tunic, and shoved her head beneath the water.
With her rage growing out of control, Ailith fought still harder.
Isobel stepped into the trough and placed her knee on the bucking back. She looked up and smiled at Sábria, who was watching Ailith, hoping the knight didn’t intend to drown her.
Just before the bubbles stopped, Isobel pulled Ailith’s head above water.
Ailith managed to gasp out, “Goddess damned piece of shite, let go of me!” Reaching above her head, she tangled her fingers in Isobel’s hair and jerked the headful of peppered grey down into the water, nearly over ending the woman.
Taking that as her cue, Sábria grabbed hold of two of Ailith’s fingers, one on each hand, and bent them back. She said very calmly, “Let go of her hair, Ailith, or I’ll break them.” When Ailith didn’t release the hair right away, Sábria bent them just a little further.
Ailith gasped and let go.
Isobel shook wet hair out of her face and once again dunked Ailith. She glanced over her shoulder at Sábria. “Still a bit too much fight in her, I think.”
By this time, Kemi had returned with the jar of liquid soap she used for the dirtiest of her charges.
Isobel calmly spoke to Sábria. “The next time I bring her up, My Lady, if you’ll soap that hair and scrub it?” She pulled Ailith’s head up again. The struggling was a little less fierce this time, probably because the shiv was gasping for air.
Sábria took the jar from Kemi and poured a good amount of soap over Ailith’s head. With Ailith sputtering and cursing, she rubbed the soap into the hair, producing a headful of dirty bubbles.
That ratcheted up the complaints to a new and impressive level. “Get that múgromin’ shite offa me, ya skezzi fowkin’ bitch. Who th’ fowk do ya think ya are? I’ll feed yer tongues to th’ fowkin’ wolves ya fowkin’ pieces of hors—”
Isobel clamped her hand around Ailith’s lower jaw and pulled it down. “Pour some in there, please.”
Ailith roared and caught Isobel a hard blow on the side of her face with her elbow before any soap got into her mouth.
The knight’s head snapped back, and she released her hold on Ailith’s jaw so she could grab the tunic and dunk her again. She moved her jaw back and forth and grinned up at Sábria, who, if she didn’t know better, might think the knight was enjoying herself. “I think she got the message, and anyway, it was about time for a rinse, don’t you think?”
Sábria asked, “Múgromin?”
“Skuzzy, slimy.” Isobel waited for the bubbles to stop before she pulled her up again. “Okay, now that you’re more or less rinsed, either you take off that filthy tunic, or we’re cutting it off you. Your choice.”
“Fowk you!”
“Okay, then.” Isobel transferred her hand from the back of the tunic and grabbed a handful of hair. “My Lady. If you’d take your knife and slit down the front of that tunic and then down the back, we can peel it off her arms.”
Sábria pulled out her belt knife but paused a moment, wondering how she was going to slit the tunic without slitting a fighting Ailith right along with it.
Isobel saw Sábria’s hesitation and shrugged. “Ailith, she can either cut the cloth, or you’ll have a scar running down the front of your chest and down the middle of your back when we’re through. Do you think for one moment I won’t do it? Think very carefully before you decide.” She turned to Sábria. “The tunic, My Lady.”
Sábria took hold of the front of Ailith’s collar and placed the edge of the knife against it before carefully slitting the material in half. When Isobel moved back a bit, she did the same to the back. Apparently, Ailith believed Isobel would do exactly as she’d threatened because she stayed very, very still.
