Blood of the Fold

Chapter 40

Ann’s eyes stung with tears as a shuddering cry escaped her throat. She had long ago forsaken her determination to keep from crying out. Who but the Creator would hear, or care?

Valdora lifted the knife, greasy with blood. “Hurt?” A gap-toothed grin came to her as a chuckle fought its way out. “How do you like it when someone else chooses what will happen to you? That’s what you did. You chose how I would die. You denied me life. Life I could have had at the palace. I would still be young. You chose to let me die.”

Ann flinched as the knife point pricked her side. “I asked a question, Prelate. How do you like it?”

“No more than you, I would expect.”

The grin returned. “Gooood. I want you to know the pain I’ve lived with all these years.”

“I left you with a life the same as everyone else has. A life to live as you would. You were left with what the Creator gave you, the same as everyone else come into this world. I could have had you executed.”

“For casting a spell! I’m a sorceress! That’s what the Creator gave me, and I used it!”

Though Ann knew the arguments were pointless, she favored them over Valdora going back to her silent knifework.

“You used what the Creator gave you to take from others what they would not have given willingly. You thieved their affections, their hearts, their lives. You had no right. You sampled devotion like candies at a fair. You bound them to you with glamours and then cast them away to snare another.”

The knife pricked her again. “And you banished me!”

“How many lives did you bring to ruin? You were counseled, you were warned, you were punished. Still, you continued. Only after all this were you put out of the Palace of the Prophets.”

Ann’s shoulders throbbed with a dull ache. She was stretched out naked on a wooden table, her wrists bound with magic over her head at one end, and her ankles at the other. The spell chafed worse than coarse hemp rope. She was as helpless as a hog hung up to be bled.

Valdora had used a spell, something else she had learned who knew where, to block Ann’s Han. She could feel it there, like a warm fire on a winter’s night, just beyond a window, inviting, promising warmth, but out of reach.

Ann stared up at the window near the top of the wall in the little stone room. It was nearing daylight. Why hadn’t he come? He should have come to rescue her by now, and then she was to somehow capture him. But he hadn’t come.

It still wasn’t daylight. He still might come. Dear Creator, let him come soon.

Unless it was the wrong day. Panic raced through her mind. What if they had miscalculated? No. She and Nathan had gone over the charts. This was the right day, and besides, it was the events, more than the day itself, that fueled the prophecy. The fact that she had been captured said that it was the right day. If she had been captured a week before, then that would have been the right day. This day was within the window of opportunity. The prophecy was being fulfilled. But where was he?

Ann realized that Valdora’s face was gone. She wasn’t beside her. She should have kept talking. She should . . .

She felt a sudden, sharp, searing pain as the knife cut down the sole of her left foot. Her whole body jerked against the restraints. Sweat once again beaded on her brow and trickled through her scalp. Again the pain came, another cut, accompanied by another impotent cry.

Her screams reverberated from the stone as Valdora ripped a strip of flesh from the sole of her foot.

She was shaking uncontrollably; her head lolled to the side. The little girl, Holly, was looking into her eyes. Ann felt tears run over the bridge of her nose, and into her other eye, to finally fall away.

Trembling, she stared into Holly’s eyes, wondering what vile things Valdora was teaching such an innocent child. She would turn this small creature’s heart to stone.

Valdora held up the little white curl of flesh. “Look, Holly, how cleanly it comes off, if you do as I say. Would you like to try your hand, my dear?”

“Grandmamma,” Holly said, “must we do this? She has done nothing to harm us. She is not like the others; she never tried to hurt us.”

Valdora gestured with the knife for emphasis. “Oh, but she has, dear one. She hurt me. She stole my youth.”

Holly glanced at Ann as she shivered with the lingering pain. The little girl had an odd mask of calm, for one so young. She would have made an outstanding novice, and one day a fine Sister. “She gave me a silver. She didn’t try to hurt us. This is not fun. I don’t want to do it.”

Valdora chuckled. “Well, do it we will.” She wiggled the knife. “You listen to your grandmamma. She deserves it.”

Holly coolly considered the old woman. “Just because you’re older than me, that doesn’t make you right. I’ll watch no longer. I’m going outside.”

Valdora shrugged, “If you wish. This is between the Prelate and me. If you do not wish to learn anything, then go outside and play.”

Holly strode from the room. Ann could have kissed her for her courage.

Valdora’s face glided closer. “Just you and me, now, Prelate.” Her jaw muscles flexed. “Shall, we, get—” She jabbed the knifepoint into Ann’s side to punctuate each word. “—down, to, business?” She tilted her head to better look into Ann’s eyes. “Near time to die, Prelate. I think I’d like to see you scream to death. Shall we try?”

“Over there!” Zedd tried to point, as best he could, confined as he was. “There’s a light in the Keep.”

Though dawn was beginning to lighten the sky, it was still dark enough to pick out the yellow glow coming from several windows. Gratch saw what Zedd was seeing, and banked toward the Keep.

“Bags,” he muttered, “if that boy is already in the Keep, I’ll . . .”

Gratch growled at Zedd’s obvious reference to Richard. He could feel the growl against his back pressed to the gar’s chest more than he could hear it. Zedd glanced to the ground, far below.

“I’ll have to save him. That’s all I meant, Gratch. If Richard is in trouble, I’ll have to get down there to save him.”

Gratch gurgled with satisfaction.

Zedd hoped Richard wasn’t in trouble. The effort of maintaining the spell to make himself light enough for Gratch to carry him for the last week had sapped nearly all his strength. He didn’t think he would be able to stand, much less use his power to save anyone. He would need days of rest after this.

Zedd stroked the huge, furry arms around him. “I love Richard, too, Gratch. We’ll help him. Both of us will protect him.” Zedd’s eyes widened. “Gratch! Watch where you’re going! Slow down!”

Zedd held his arms up before his face as the gar swooped down toward the rampart. Peeking between his arms, he could see the stone approach at alarming speed. He gasped as Gratch tightened his grip and flapped his wings, trying to halt their plummeting descent.

Zedd realized he was losing his grip on his spell. He was too exhausted to hold on any longer, and he was becoming too heavy for Gratch to carry. In desperation, he drew the spell back, like catching an egg rolling from the edge of a table.

Just in time, he snatched the spell before it winked out, and yanked it back.

Gratch’s flapping finally netted enough air to slow them, and he pulled up before they hit. With a graceful flutter of his huge, leathery wings, the gar set them on the rampart. Zedd felt the furry arms come off his sweat soaked robes.

“Sorry, Gratch. I almost lost my grip on the magic. I almost got us both hurt.”

Gratch absently grunted acknowledgment. His glowing green eyes were searching the darkness. There were walls going everywhere up here, and a hundred places to hide. Gratch seemed to be searching them all.

A low growl rumbled in the gar’s throat. The green glow intensified. Zedd searched the dark recesses, but saw nothing. Gratch did.

Zedd flinched when, with a sudden roar, the gar bounded into the darkness.

Massive claws ripped at the night air. Fangs tore at nothing.

Zedd began to see shapes seeming to come out of the air. Capes billowed open, and knives flashed as the things danced and spun around the gar.

Mriswith.

The creatures let out clicking hisses as they lunged at the great fur beast. Gratch caught them on claws, ripping their scaled hides open, spilling their blood and insides. Their howls as they died drew a shiver up Zedd’s spine.

Zedd felt the air move as one swept past, intent on the gar. The wizard threw his hand out, casting a ball of liquid fire that caught the mriswith, igniting its cape, and then spilled flame over the rest of it.

The rampart was suddenly alive with the creatures. Zedd, digging deep to bring up the power, snapped back a line of dense air, throwing several over the edge. Gratch threw one at the wall with such violence that it burst open when it hit.

Zedd wasn’t prepared for the pitched battle that was suddenly all round him. Through his numb exhaustion, Zedd’s frenetic quest for ideas couldn’t engender anything more ingenious than simple magic of fire and air.

A mriswith turned suddenly, bringing around its bladed claw. Zedd threw a line of air as sharp as an axe. It cleaved the mriswith’s head. He used a web to snare several away from Gratch and cast them over the side of the wall. At this outer rampart, it was a drop of several thousand feet—straight down.

The mriswith, for the most part, ignored Zedd, so resolute were they with taking down the gar. Why did they want so badly to kill the gar? By the way Gratch was dispatching them, it seemed they held a primal hatred for the winged beast.

A wedge of light suddenly stabbed through the predawn darkness as a door opened. A small figure stood silhouetted in the light. In the illumination, Zedd could see the mriswith all lunging for the gar. He rushed forward, throwing a fist of fire that engulfed three of the scaled creatures spinning forward with their knives flashing.

A mriswith hurtled past, slamming Zedd’s shoulder, knocking him from his feet. He saw the mriswith pile into the gar, knocking him back against the crenellated wall.

Zedd saw them all, in one seething mass, tumble over the edge, and fall into the night, just as his head hit the stone.

The door squeaked open. As Valdora rose from her work, Ann gasped to catch her breath, and at the same time fought the darkness trying to shroud her mind. She couldn’t do it any longer. She was at the end. She had no more screams left. Dear Creator, she could not hold out any longer. Why hadn’t he come to rescue her?

“Grandmamma.” Holly grunted with effort as she labored to drag something, inch by inch, into the room. “Grandmamma. Something has happened.”

Valdora turned to the girl. “Where did you find him?”

Ann struggled to lift her head. Holly huffed and strained to lift a skinny old man up by his maroon robes and lean him against the wall. Blood trickled down the side of his head and matted his wavy white hair sticking out in disarray.

“He’s a wizard, Grandmamma. He’s near to dead. I saw him having a fight with a gar, and some other creatures all covered with scales.”

“What makes you think he’s a wizard?”

Holly straightened, panting as she stood over the old man on the floor. “He was using his gift. He was casting balls of fire.”

Valdora frowned. “Reeeally. A wizard. How interesting.” She scratched her nose. “What happened to the creatures, and the gar?”

Holly wheeled her arms about as she described the battle. “And then they all jumped on the gar, and all of them fell over the side. I went to the edge and looked, but I couldn’t see them anymore. They all fell down the mountain.”

Ann’s head thumped back to the table. Dear Creator, it was a wizard who supposed to rescue her.

It was all for naught. She was going to die. How could she have been so vain as to believe she could do something this risky and get away with it. Nathan was right.

Nathan. She wondered if he would ever find her body to know what had happened, or would even care if his warden was dead. She was a foolish, foolish, old woman, who thought herself more clever than she was. She had tampered with prophecy one time too many, and it had bitten her. Nathan was right. She should have listened.

Ann flinched when she saw Valdora leaning over her with a wicked grin. She pushed the knifepoint up under Ann’s chin.

“Well, dear Prelate, it seems I have a wizard to dispatch.” She drew the knifepoint across Ann’s throat. She could feel it tugging at the skin, cutting and scratching as it dragged along.

“Please, Valdora, ask Holly to leave the room. You shouldn’t let your granddaughter see you kill someone.”

Valdora turned. “You’d like to watch, wouldn’t you, dear?”

Holly swallowed. “No, Grandmamma. She never tried to hurt us.”

“I’ve told you, she hurt me.”

Holly pointed. “I brought him in here so you could help him.”

“Oh, no. Can’t have that. He must die, too.”

“And what did he do to hurt you?”

Valdora shrugged. “If you don’t want to watch, then go. It won’t hurt my feelings.”

Holly turned, pausing a moment to glance down at the old man. She reached out and touched his shoulder in a comforting way, and then hurried away.

Vafdora turned back. She laid the knife against Ann’s cheek, under her eye, “Should I gouge out your eyes, first?”

Ann closed her eyes, unable to witness the terror any longer.

“No!” Valdora jabbed the point under her chin. “Don’t close your eyes! You will watch! If you don’t open them, I will gouge them out then.”

Ann opened her eyes. She held her lower lip between her teeth as she watched Valdora put the point to her chest and lift the handle straight up.

“At last,” Valdora whispered. “Vengeance.”

She lifted the knife. It paused in midair as she pulled a deep breath.

Valdora’s body twitched as a sword blade erupted from the center of her chest.

Her eyes widened, and she let out a gurgling squeal as the knife dropped to the floor.

Nathan put a foot to Valdora’s back and drew the sword out of the woman. She went down hard to the stone floor.

Ann let out a wail of relief. Tears streamed from her eyes as the bonds holding her wrists and ankles broke.

Nathan, tall and grim, gazed down at her lying on the table. “You foolish woman,” he whispered, “what have you let be done to you?”

He bent and took her up in his arms as she wept like a child. His arms felt as sweet as the Creator’s as he held her to his breast.

As her crying slowed, he parted from her, and she saw that the front of him was soaked with blood. Her blood.

“Remove the block, and then lie back and let me see if I can possibly heal this mess.”

Ann pushed his hand away. “No. First I must do what I came to do.” She pointed. “It is he. The wizard we’ve come for.”

“Can’t it wait?”

She wiped blood and tears from her eyes. “Nathan, I have gone through this dreadful prophecy this far. Let me finish. Please?”

With a disgusted sigh, he reached in a pouch beside his scabbard at his belt and pulled out a Rada’Han. He handed it over as she slid off the table. When her feet touched the floor, the pain crumpled her. Nathan caught her with a big arm and helped her to kneel before the unconscious wizard.

“Help me, Nathan. Open it for me. She broke most of my fingers.”

With trembling hands, she placed the collar around the wizard’s neck. Pushing with her palms, she at last managed to snap it shut, locking on not only the collar, but its magic. The prophecy was fulfilled.

Holly stood in the doorway. “Is Grandmamma dead?”

Ann sagged back on her heels. “Yes, my dear child. I’m sorry.” She held out a hand. “How would you like to watch a healing, instead of a hurting?”

Holly gently took the hand. She glanced to the wizard on the floor. “And him? Will you heal him, too?”

“Yes, Holly, him too.”

“That was why I brought him in: to be helped. Not to be killed. Grandmamma helped people sometimes. She wasn’t always mean.”

“I know,” Ann said.

A tear rolled down the girl’s cheek. “What is to become of me, now?” she whispered.

Ann smiled through the tears. “I am Annalina Aldurren, Prelate of the Sisters of the Light, and have been for a good long time. I’ve taken in many young women with the gift, like you, and have taught them to be wonderful women who heal and help people. I would be most happy if you would come with us.”

Holly nodded, a smile coming to her tearstained face. “Grandmamma took care of me, but she was mean to other people, sometimes. Mostly those who would try to hurt us, or cheat us, but you never did. It was wrong for her to hurt you. I’m sorry she wasn’t nicer. I’m sorry she had to be mean, and die.”

Ann kissed the girl’s hand. “Me, too. Me, too.”

“I have the gift.” She looked up with big, doleful eyes. “Can you teach me to heal with it?”

“It would be my honor.”

Nathan picked up his sword and, with a dramatic flourish, slid it back into its scabbard. “You want to be healed, now? Or would you prefer to bleed to death so I can try my hand at resurrection?”

Ann winced as she came to her feet. “Heal me, my savior.”

He squinted. “Then allow me access to my power, woman. I can’t heal with my sword.”

Ann closed her eyes as she lifted a hand, focusing her inner sense on his Rada’Han removing the block in the flow of his Han. “It is done.”

Nathan grunted. “I know it’s done; I can feel it back, you know.”

“Help me onto the table, Nathan.” Holly held her hand as she was lifted up.

Nathan peered down at the wizard on the floor. “Well, you’ve finally got him. Far as I know, one such as he has never been collared before.” His penetrating blue eyes turned to her. “Now that you’ve got a wizard of the First Order, the true madness of this whole plan of yours begins.”

Ann sighed as his healing hands at last caressed her. “I know. Hopefully, Verna has her end of matters well in hand by now.”