The Raven Warrior (25 page)

The garden was almost filled with water now, and it glowed around him like some huge, polished jewel. A symphony of color, light, and, yes, sound, because everything sang, even the things he hadn’t heard sing before, a magnificent chorale that moved from entity to splendid entity. Each soloing, then sinking back into the symphonic whole as the baton of leadership passed to another being.

He had thought grass surrounded the lake in the center, but as he watched, the grass bloomed with a thousand mauve-tinted white flowers, then the petals fell, white and soft as snowdrifts among the long, green gorse stems. Scarlet berries succeeded the flowers.

Again she embraced him, the furred creature from the cave, and he felt her mold her hips against his. And for the first time since he entered this wild, wild place, he was conscious that he was naked as his erection throbbed almost painfully at his groin.

But in a breath, she was gone. Black Leg knelt, plucked a handful of the red berries burgeoning in the grass, and put them in his mouth. He didn’t need to swallow; he felt the effect of whatever they contained fly though his veins, transforming his body into a vessel of pure light.

The noon sun was high above. He burned with its light, a light that was also pure knowledge. And he understood once and forever that damnation and salvation were one.

Death!
I thought, and jumped to my feet. I was taken completely by surprise and every instinct in me screamed that this was a very dangerous moment.

I jumped back again. I was no stranger to the hero’s salmon leap. I wanted distance between myself and a man who had said that the punishment for what I had just done was death, even though I wasn’t clear on what I had done. Killing the plant; healing Albe?

She was lying in the road as though in shock from the pain and the injuries she had received. I had a brief chance to study the warrior who had just spoken. For warrior he was—armored in something that looked like bronze, a helmet of the old Greek type, one that covered his entire head and most of his face. It had a horizontal opening that allowed him to see, and a narrow slit for the nose and mouth. Otherwise, the visor and the long cheek pieces hid his features. The other three men—the fourth was a woman—wore more ornate but somehow cheaper-looking, formed waxed-leather armor, dyed green-brown and dark purple.

I didn’t have time to notice any more about the three, because the bronze-clad leader gave me a look of lethal indifference and said, “Kill her!!! Let the other one live for a time. She may offer some sport.”

He glanced at the brown-clad man and jerked his head in my direction.

My goodness. That
was
elaborate armor. My opponent wore leather pants with leg and thigh protection, inlaid with dull gold. A gold chain-mail shirt over an inner garment of fitted leather. A muscle cuirass, but it was not formed all of a piece like the Roman ones. Instead it was made of a mosaic of leather plates, each one outlined in the same dull gold. He looked not a man but like some exotic insect sheathed in magnificent, glowing chitin. He was a warrior work of art at the same time. His shield was as beautiful as the rest, leather with a golden boss and rim, inlaid with golden swirls of intricately patterned, fine lines.

Too bad,
I thought. Because he had his sword out and was coming for me, hard and fast.

I knew I wouldn’t be able to get my sword clear of the sheath before he would be on me. So I jumped aside and slammed my right hand into the leather shield. I felt the surge roaring up from my guts and knew I was putting almost too much into it. I might exhaust myself before the battle began.

The shield exploded into flame. The metal must have been gold; it has a low melting point, and the molten metal sprayed both of us.

My armor turned it, but he was hit by a droplet in one eye, and he hurled the flaming shield in a broad arc, out over the low-growing plants. It landed among them. He screamed in pain and clapped one mailed glove to his eye—

Then he saw where his quickly discarded shield had gone.

This time his scream was even worse. I was trying to free my sword, but the agony in the sound distracted me. His sword dropped from his hand, hitting the ground. With a ringing cry, he fell to his knees, then bent so far over, his forehead touched the stony road. He clutched at his head with both hands and began beating his forehead against the hexagonal pavers, sobbing with horror and despair.

Meantime, we had all underestimated Albe. She took out one warrior with a sweeping kick while still lying on the ground. He had been incautious enough to stand too close. His feet went flying from under him. He had no chance to break his fall, and his helmeted skull hit the stone road with a clang. He jerked once and lay still.

How she got the second with a sling stone, I’m not to this day sure. But she did. He was very well armored, but his mouth and lower jaw were exposed. And believe me, that’s all Albe ever needs. He staggered back and went down, bleeding badly from the mouth and nose.

I’ve never been sure why I did what I did then. I turned, leaped across the road, and went after the shield blazing among what I was sure was an important crop. No one defends a weed patch the way this bunch defended this tiny hunk of dirt.

I felt the plants strike at my ankles, but my armor turned them. On my second step, the ground gave, and I thought my foot went into mud. But the stench took me; and even as I realized what my foot landed on, I snatched up the flaming shield rim and spun it out across the road, into the barren sea bottoms beyond.

Then I had to emulate a frightened rabbit and take some long hops—because I was finding out something else about those dangerous weeds: they compensated for resistance. The strikes against my legs were getting harder and harder, and the armor was beginning to give way.

The one whose shield I’d burned was kneeling upright in the road, gazing at me in rapt astonishment. As for myself, I couldn’t wait. I tore off my sandals and tossed them into the sand, away from those loathsome plants, to clean them.

We all stood looking at one another.

“You may go,” the bronze-clad man spoke in a haughty manner. “In the normal course of events, I would call up a team able to deal with you and finish you off. But what I have to do here is too important. . . .”

The one with the bleeding mouth and nose was on his feet. Albe slipped another stone into her sling.

“No,” he said. I was a bit astounded that he could talk. It appeared that, though she had certainly broken something, it wasn’t his lower jaw, since he raised his head in a halt gesture and spoke.

“Peace. Peace. I yield myself beaten, your prisoner. Whatever you like will be yours.”

Albe still looked like she might want to finish the job, so I said, “Hear him out. Only let fly if he makes a threatening move.”

Then he turned to the bronze-clad one. “Amrun, are you mad? We can’t let them go. Did you see how she got that shield and has come to no harm?”

“Brother, I saw everything. Keep your mouth shut. My lady, your powers are indeed remarkable. But whatever your business here, conclude it as swiftly as possible and leave. You must be from among the jungle kingdoms, and we need none of your evil practices, . . . your disgusting—”

“Oh, God!” The wounded man moaned. His face was obviously hurting, but I could tell he was also infuriated by his companion. “Shut the fuck up! She can’t be from the jungle.”

“I’m not,” I said. “The only way I ever heard of a jungle, it was somewhere in Asia, up the Nile River.”

“What are you then?” the wounded man asked.

Albe and I looked at each other and shrugged. We weren’t sure how to tell him.

“Picts,” I said.

“Your rank,” the bronze-clad Amrun snapped.

“I am the Dragon Queen,” I told him. “My name is Guinevere. I’m a sacred woman.”

This seemed to calm both of them down and shut them up. I don’t think they understood a word I said, but they did seem content in their belief that we probably did not come from the dreaded jungle kingdoms.

The one with the bleeding face sat down. Where his face wasn’t smeared with blood, it looked greenish. He vomited blood and water at the roadside, but he continued talking. “I don’t understand any of that. But, Brother, I believe they are at least respectable and may be invited to the city.”

Albe had drawn closer to me. “I’m not sure if I should be glad or sorry about that,” I whispered to her.

The other two were stirring around now. The one who had hit his head was sitting up, but he had a sort of lost look and I didn’t think he’d be giving anybody any trouble soon. The one whose shield I’d burned had smacked both face and forehead against the road a little too hard. His face was bleeding, and while he didn’t look lost, he was dazed. The one with the broken face hadn’t gotten his color back, and he looked to be getting ready to throw up again. The girl was sitting down, a bleak expression on her face. I noticed her arms and legs were heavily padded. It didn’t take a lot of brains to figure out what was going on here.

The one in brass armor spoke again. He motioned us to pass him, saying, “Go forward and wait for us at the city gates. There are food vendors there, and you may purchase some. Doubtless the food sellers will want some of your jewelry in exchange for water and sustenance.”

“Doubtless,” I replied. “However, we’re not going anywhere till we find out what you’re going to do with that girl.”

The one with the broken face gave me a sharp look. “Brother, we have food and drink with us. We can share it with them—”

“I’m growing weary of this insolence. We have an important task to perform. Now, do as you are bid, or I will have our family cast you off.”

The girl stood for the first time. “Please . . . Meth! Don’t . . .”

“Be quiet,” the bronze-clad warrior snapped at her. “You were chosen properly by honest lot, were you not? Silence becomes you.”

Meth staggered to his feet. “Shut up, Amrun, and I mean it. Wounded I’m still a better fighter than you are, and if you don’t close your mouth, I’ll kill you now and take the consequences.”

Everyone looked a bit horrified, but Meth ignored them. “You must . . . must . . . show me how you did that.”

I assented by nodding and walked toward the plants. I waved my arm near them. My armor leaped out on my skin, and I brought my hand closer. The vicious thing stabbed at me. The spine bounced off my armored hand.

Looking down at them, I saw the plants were beautiful, with broad, green leaves that overlapped one another in an almost mathematical rosette. The leaves were light green at the edges and darkening toward the center until they shaded from deep green to purple near the stem. The whole plant resembled a flower, while I suspected the flower itself was insignificant. It didn’t surprise me. I had seen similar plants in my own world.

I moved my hand again and watched a heart-shaped leaf curl itself into a spike, the tip glittering with a sticky-looking honeydew I thought must be poison. Albe’s reaction, the quick swelling, suggested the presence of poison to me.

“See if it has fruit on it.”

“You do it,” I said. “You’re armored.”

“Watch!” He peeled off one of his gloves. It was formed of metal plates on the outside and mail on the inside. It was a beautiful piece of work. He brushed one of the leaves with his glove. The spine went through it as though the glove were made of curd cheese.

He waved the empty glove at me. “This will stop a sword cut, but not one of those thorns. Simple armor is not enough. But I can tell that what you have isn’t simple armor.”

“A gift from my father,” I said.

Meth laughed. “Who was he? One of the Tuatha de Danae?”

“Probably,” I said.

The laughter faded from his eyes. “You aren’t joking.”

“No.”

He rose to his feet. “Cateyrin!” he called out to the girl. “Fetch the boxes.” Then, to me, “Please? Look for the fruit. They seem to be crystal buds.”

I crouched down. This one had three flowers. They were small, vivid scarlet, and tightly closed. However, it had one fruit. It was oval and looked as though it were made of glass covered with swirls of ridged lines.

My armor surprised me, rising at my command. I stretched out my hand and, despite a few whacks from the long-spined leaves, plucked it.

I held it up to the light, then gasped as the colors changed. First it flashed like a clear crystal, and all the colors of the rainbow filled the surface. Then it became clear yellow, but only for a second. Suddenly, it was molten gold, followed by light green, emerald green, then blue-green. Azure blue was succeeded by the blue of a summer sea, then brown, red-brown, until it rested at garnet.

“Beautiful!” Albe said.

I glanced away from the gemlike seed and saw Meth kneeling at my feet. The look in his eyes was almost one of worship.

“Stop that!” I said. “Get me some food and drink. Albe’s hungry and thirsty, and so am I.”

He didn’t move, so I rested the back of my left hand against his cheek. I didn’t see Mother, but the rose scent filled the air. When I pulled my hand away, his face looked better. Some of the serious swelling that disfigured it was down.

He scrambled to his feet. Cateyrin was already returning with the food and boxes.

I pointed to the other three warriors. “Go sit down on those rocks by the roadside where I can watch you. Now,” I asked Meth, “how many of these things do you want?”

“Five boxes,” he said.

“Serve Albe,” I told Cateyrin. “Give me the boxes and strip off that padding. You won’t need it.”

It was the beginning of a rather long, weary afternoon. Meth and I placed the boxes in the shade of a rock, since he told me the jewels didn’t need to be exposed to the sun as I collected them.

“Best that be done by whoever purchases them,” he told me.

I went looking for fruit. “The damned place is a graveyard,” I snapped at him as I eased around the edges of the ravine where the plants grew.

“The price of five boxes is usually a human life,” he said as I handed him one.

“Why?” I asked.

“We have to have them.”