Elyon's Blades, page 8
part #1 of The Daughters of Elyon Series
She shook her head, and her eyes narrowed until they were nearly shut before she glanced up into Shirin’s eyes. “It were th’ kind of battle where ya kill one, and immediately somebody near ya kills th’ one their fightin’ and then swings around, and then yer battlin’ them before you’ve even caught yer breath from th’ last one. I killed this pidge, she had two swords, but it were like they got tangled somehow, and I ran her through. No skill on me part, just dumb luck again. And then I turned to me right and saw th’ Duke fightin’ this huge berserker.”
She looked at Sábria, “Ya ken, berserker?” The Arch Priestess nodded, and she continued, “Well, he had an axe. It were like watchin’ somethin’ happen super slow, but it weren’t slow. Does that make sense?”
Sábria nodded again. “Yes, it does. Was this the Battle of the Night when those rogue forces from Kibrun sailed into the harbor during the deadnight shift and attacked the garrison stationed there?”
“Ya know about that? Aye, that were th’ one. We won, but so many people died. Friends an’ all.” Running her hand up into her hair, Ailith closed her eyes and tried to block out the scenes flitting through her head.
“How old were you?”
“Uh,” She looked at Shirin and lifted a shoulder. “Fourteen, I guess?”
Concern showed on both women’s faces as they watched Ailith absently play with the ends of the belt on her robe. Sábria broke the silence. “So, there was this berserker….”
“Aye.” Ailith’s heart was pounding painfully. She’d never made it through the entire story with anyone. She’d always wanted to tell someone what happened—to get it off her chest—but she was afraid of the reactions she’d get from people if they knew, like maybe they’d pull away in disgust, and she didn’t think she could handle that because that’s exactly the way she felt about what happened. These two women were warriors. Sure, all her other friends were warriors, too, but to a person, whenever she’d start to tell them what happened, they’d hold a hand up in her face and tell her to stop, mostly because they knew it could happen to them and they didn’t want to hear the story to the end. She pulled in a quick breath and began again. “Well—” She stopped and almost couldn’t breathe.
Sábria moved her chair closer so she could put a comforting hand on Ailith’s arm. “It’s okay, Ailith. You’re safe here.”
How the Arch Priestess knew exactly what she needed was beyond her, but the gesture and words helped her regain her composure. She swallowed hard. “Well, th’ Duke tripped over a body an’ went down on his back, an’ his sword somehow got stuck in th’ mud an’ he couldn’t bring it up to block when th’ berserker swung th’ axe over his head, and then th’ nob brought it straight down at th’ Duke’s chest.”
She looked up at Shirin with remembered panic in her eyes. Her chest and throat had tightened, and she was having a difficult time pulling in enough air. Out of habit, she tried to make a joke to lighten the mood and ease her tension. “I think I ruined yer massage.”
Thankfully, Sábria gently squeezed her arm and acknowledged the attempt with a smile. “We can fix that, hon. What happened next?”
Sábria’s matter-of-fact acceptance of her fears settled Ailith enough to where she could continue with the story. “Well, I…I didn’t think, I just threw myself on top of His Grace, and th’ axe chopped into th’ upper part of me leg, right there.” She closed her eyes and only realized she was grinding her teeth when she heard them squeak. Thankfully, the top of her thigh felt whole through the fabric of her robe.
When she felt Sábria squeeze again, she continued, “Nearly chopped me leg off, well, it did chop th’ bone nearly in two an’ th’ blade kinda stuck, I think. I don’t rightly remember exactly about th’ blade. And then Lord Raglan, he were th’ noble what introduced ya to His Grace, he chopped th’ berserker's head clean off. I remember passin’ out and comin’ to over and over and over again.”
The haunted look stole into her eyes again, only this time, there were darker overtones, as though the horror she’d experienced was happening right there in the room with them. Sábria considered stopping her, but her instincts told her that Ailith had never spoken to anyone about the battle, and bringing her memories to the fore in a safe environment might begin a healing that had been missing from the young warrior’s life.
Ailith wasn’t aware of the concern in the Priestess’ eyes, and she slowly shook her head as she continued the story. “And th’ battle was just ragin’, and there were mud and blood, and, well, th’ Duke and Milord scooped me up and carried me through th’ field.”
She looked to the right, and her face screwed up in disgust. “An arm landed on me chest, but there weren’t no body,” she ran both hands through her hair, oblivious to the other two in the room, “and I grabbed it an’ threw it away, an’ we got to th’ command tent, an’ they dropped me on a cot, an’ His Grace yelled to his personal healer, a powerful magicker….”
Ailith blinked and was surprised to see the two women sitting with her. To cover the sick feeling of disorientation, she lowered her hands and asked, “Uh…ya ken magicker?”
Shirin nodded, and Sábria clarified, “We understand your more powerful healers use a kind of magic that can accelerate healing.”
“Well, His Grace and Milord ran back into th’ battle. I begged th’ magicker t’ slit me throat ‘cause th’ pain…well, he shooshed me, and then he took two fingers, like this…” she held two fingers together, “…and touched me between th’ eyes,” she tapped the bridge of her nose, “…and that’s th’ last I remember until I woke up a fortnight later with nothin’ more than this scar, and th’ little limp ya probably noticed when I walk.”
To Ailith’s relief, there weren’t any horrified intakes of breath or shocked looks on the two women’s faces.
Sábria pushed back her chair and pulled Ailith to her feet.
Ailith hoped the woman wasn’t going to hug her and tell her everything was all right. To her surprise, Sábria pulled back the sheets on her bed and said, “Take off your robe and lay down. I can see I need to start all over again on those muscles.” Her eyes seemed to smile out at Ailith when she said, “I guess I shouldn’t ask those kinds of questions right after a relaxing massage.”
Ailith’s brows came down, and she shrugged. “Well, maybe it were because of th’ massage, I could tell ya. I never talked about it before to nobody, but—” She stopped, not liking how close tears were to falling down her cheeks.
Instead of embarrassing her by trying to say comforting words, Sábria turned her around and pulled the robe from Ailith’s shoulders. “Lie down. Commander Shirin went to get more oil.” When the Commander returned, Sábria spent the next half candlemark gently soothing Ailith’s tight muscles.
When Shirin heard Ailith softly snoring, she quietly pulled the sheet over the sleeping woman.
Sábria stared down at her newest shiv, softly rubbing the excess oil into her hands and marveling at the damaged people the Goddess brought into their lives under the most unusual circumstances. The two women left the room and pulled the door shut behind them.
Nine
It wasn’t often that Emperor Aloric asked to meet with Sábria. The two were equal in power and were considered co-rulers of the Cibían Empire, but they didn’t particularly get along. Aloric could best be described as a sausage of a man who had a reputation for being power-hungry, licentious, and greedy; all things Sábria was not.
When the invitation to the palace arrived, to Sábria’s surprise and definite concern, it had specifically requested she present both Ailith and Emlyn to Emperor Aloric. Emlyn wasn’t the problem. She’d lived her entire life in the Kibrunian palace and had grown up bowing and scraping to the royals and their sycophants.
Ailith, on the other hand, had grown up in army camps among course and common soldiers. She had no courtly manners, a disdain for most nobility, and little to no control over her mouth.
They were standing in the seamstress’ dressing room. Emlyn looked regal in her midnight black tunic and trews with the trainee grey stripe running down the outside of both arms. Her sword hung at a perfect angle on her left side.
Ailith was standing on the pedestal while the seamstress made some final alterations to the inseam of her trews.
Sábria and Shirin looked on, elegant in their tight-fitting all-black dress uniforms. All black, except for the gold brocade running around Sábria’s upper collar and down between her breasts, where both sides branched out to the seams and continued down to her waist. A short black cape was attached at her shoulders and flowed down her back to a gold, double-wrapped cummerbund that covered the tunic’s hem. A ceremonial sword belt angled down across the cummerbund and Sábria’s ornate gold and silver scabbard and sword hung off it. She’d chosen to arrive as the warrior aspect of her office and hadn’t donned the highly embroidered tunic she often wore in her role as the Arch Priestess.
She wore an understated golden crown on her head. Understated as far as it being a single band of white gold rather than the ornate headgear worn by most monarchs. However, interspersed at regular intervals along the circumference were alternating blue sapphires, yellow diamonds, and red rubies, which, when added to Sábria’s bearing and ebony uniform, gave the Arch Priestess a majestic appearance any monarch would envy.
Shirin’s uniform mirrored that of the Arch Priestess, except her trim was in silver, and she wore no crown.
Ailith fidgeted with her collar for the hundredth time. “I don’t know why I need t’ look like a popinjay. I’ve never seen none of th’ other shivs wearin’ such fancy dazzle.”
Sábria concentrated on presenting a calm and confident air, even though her tripes were in knots. “You will refer to your status as ‘trainee’ while we’re at the palace, not as ‘shiv.’”
“But…ow!”
The seamstress poked her in the leg with a pin. “Ye’ll listen to th’ Arch Priestess and speak with respect, or I’ll know th’ reason why. Now, take off yer trews, and let me do some final stitchin’. I’ve never in me life seen such thick leg muscles on a pidge before.”
Ailith glared at the woman while she pulled off the trews. “Well, ya never seen a soldier what hikes up an’ down mountains their whole life neither, I ‘spect. No mountains round here to speak of fer th’ Blades to climb.”
Sábria flicked a glance at the scar running down Ailith’s thigh and thought the girl was lucky to have both legs, let alone two muscular ones. She crossed her arms and continued with her instructions. “You will not speak unless directly spoken to. You will not use crude language anywhere in the palace. You will bow to the Emperor and Empress and anyone else Emlyn and Commander Shirin bow to. You’ll take your cues from them, including how to address different people you’re introduced to.”
Ailith ran her hand up into her hair. “Oh, Gods’ balls. Ya mean I need to talk to th’ popinjays at court?” She let out a long sigh. “Fowk.”
Sábria lost the battle to remain calm and cuffed her hard on the side of her head. “No camp talk. Starting now.”
Ailith pulled herself to attention. She understood and actually appreciated camp discipline. “Aye, Milady.” She studied Sábria’s uniform, starting at the collar and moving down to the highly polished, knee-high boots. She did the same with Shirin. After looking down at her own tunic, she glanced up with a definite twinkle in her eye. “I have to say, I do look good in black. I’m afraid I’ll be makin’ th’ three of ye look a bit shabby, though.”
Shirin put her head in her hand and murmured, “This is going to be a disaster.” Shaking her head, she sighed and left the room.
Emlyn glared at Ailith and followed Shirin out the door.
Now Sábria had to battle to keep the amusement out of her eyes. She didn’t want Ailith to think for a moment that humor was appropriate when visiting the Emperor. “Emperor Aloric will try to bait you into saying something inappropriate. Don’t take the bait, Ailith. He was quite insulted when Crown Princess Tomisa visited me before visiting him. Then, because of you, I killed the peace envoy from Dreyutha. A minor prince. His hackles are up, and you’re in his sights. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Ailith thought a moment. “I’m sworn to th’ Temple, not to th’ palace.”
“That’s right, and I can protect you as long as you keep a civil tongue in your head. Insult the Emperor or any of his people or guests….”
“And I’m toast.”
“You’re dead toast.”
Ailith blinked at that, “Aye, I understand, Milady. That would bring dishonor to you and to th’ Blades, and I won’t do that. Ya have me word.”
That was more than Sábria had hoped for. “Excellent. I need to go speak with Emlyn in private. Commander Shirin will bring you to my office.”
Sábria found Emlyn and Shirin in the waiting room. “Emlyn, with me. Shirin….” She indicated the dressing room with a lift of her chin.
Emlyn fell in behind the Arch Priestess, and when they entered the study, she shut the door behind them. “My Lady?”
“Emlyn, there’s something you need to know before we go to the palace.”
“That Tomisa is still there.” At Sábria’s questioning look, Emlyn elaborated. “Her ships are still in the bay. I assume Emperor Aloric requested she remain for a few extra days as an envoy of her father. A request she could hardly refuse.”
“I see growing up in the palace has given you a thorough political education.”
“Yes, My Lady.”
Sábria stepped close and laid a comforting hand on Emlyn’s arm. “I’d foolishly hoped that with your room overlooking the market instead of the harbor, you wouldn’t notice her ships. I’d also hoped that you wouldn’t have to see her again. It’s going to make the break that much more difficult for you.”
“Nothing I can’t handle, My Lady.”
Emlyn had remained distant since she’d arrived. Her personality was the complete opposite of Ailith, and if Sábria had to make an educated guess, the transition would be easier for the common soldier than for the common-born pseudo-aristocrat. “My door is always open to you, Emlyn.”
“Thank you, My Lady.”
There wasn’t much chance she’d be able to get through that wall of etiquette Emlyn had erected during her stay, so Sábria squeezed her arm and started for the door.
“My Lady.”
Turning, Sábria waited for the young warrior to speak.
“This is probably not my place, but…I’m sure you’re aware of the reasons the Emperor asked for you to present Ailith and me at the palace. I know you’re co-rulers, but—”
Sábria absently rubbed the ring of office the Goddess had bestowed on her. “But Ailith is a wild card,” she raised her brow, “in more ways than one. I’m aware of it, Emlyn, but thank you for sharing your concerns.”
Shirin and Ailith were waiting in the hallway when they emerged. Without glancing at them, Sábria led the way down the stairs and out of the Temple. Ten Blades in dress uniforms waited in the outer bailey. Sábria strode past them without stopping.
Shirin stopped Ailith and Emlyn. “You two will march behind the honor guard. When we get to the palace, you’ll move up and stand behind the Arch Priestess and me.” When both women nodded, Shirin glared one last time at Ailith, pointed a finger at her, and lifted her brows. When Ailith pursed her lips and nodded, Shirin hurried to overtake the honor guard that had already fallen into step behind Sábria.
As they marched forward, both peasants and nobles moved to the side of the boulevard running between the Temple and the palace grounds. Horses and cart beasts were stopped, and everyone respectfully bowed their heads or curtseyed when the Arch Priestess walked by in full ceremonial regalia.
Until that moment, Sábria’s title hadn’t registered with Ailith. She’d considered her more of a military general than anything, nothing to scoff at, but not someone to bow to, either. When they’d returned from the forest, Sábria had been in her everyday uniform, and while people politely stepped aside and nodded as they’d walked past, no one had reacted to this extent. Seeing people moving aside, holding their animals’ heads to keep them quiet, and bowing and scraping was an eye-opener for her. “Fowkin’—”
“Ailith.”
Emlyn’s barked warning got her attention. “Sorry. I’ve been told I tend t’ bleat like a sheep when I get nervous.”
“And how well do you bleat when your head is separated from your shoulders?” Emlyn continued to look straight ahead while she spoke.
“Aye. I get yer point, and thank ya, Emlyn.”
Emlyn had expected an angry retort, not the polite rejoinder Ailith had given her. She spoke with a little less heat. “Let’s just get through this in one piece, shall we?”
“Aye.”
The walls around the palace were twins to those surrounding the Temple. The Priestess led them through the gates and up to the wide steps leading up to the palace entrance. The bottom step took up practically three-fourths of the width of the fortress, and the remaining ten steps narrowed incrementally as they approached the top. The ornate double doors stood open with a palace guard stationed in front of each door. Both men bowed low as Sábria stopped on the threshold.
Emlyn whispered, “Here we go. Follow my lead.”
Only too happy to follow, Ailith marched forward in lockstep with Emlyn. At least, that was something that was second nature for her. When Emlyn stopped behind Sábria, Ailith stepped behind the Commander and stared at Shirin’s wide shoulders.
Courtiers stood in two lines on either side of the entry hall, and several late arrivals filled in the few empty spaces scattered up and down the lines. Double doors at the end opened onto a cavernous throne room, and a herald stepped into the opening and announced their arrival. Everyone in the entry hall bowed or curtsied as Sábria walked through their lines.
