Chapter Ten

Keeping herself well hidden in her black cloak with the full hood pulled over her head, Marlis trudged along with the caravan of people and livestock. Her metal staff, the one that had belonged to Wilda, was wrapped in cloth and strapped against her front. A small amount of magic deflected any unwanted attention.

Three years of scratching a living in Wilda’s cottage, learning all that her dark mistress required of her until, finally, she was ordered to leave. But not to find the elf lord though, that would have to wait. First, Marlis had to prove herself. “Like I have not done that already.” She looked around, wild-eyed, the whispered words out of her mouth before she could stop them. Never sure if her mistress ever listened in on her, Marlis constantly struggled to curb her thoughts.

She pondered the task she’d been given, to worm her way into the favour of a chief, to turn him away from his wife, and so turn him from their benevolent goddess, Nadlina. And then to claim him and his people for Gadreena. It was Wilda who’d told Marlis about the custom of northern chiefs marrying healer-women, practitioners of Nadlina’s benevolent magic.

Marlis had wanted to know why…

“It ties them and their people to the goddess,” Wilda had told her while adding drops of mould-green liquid to the crushed contents in the bone-smooth bowl. “They say it keeps the borders safe. Some are stronger in her ways than others.”

Continuing to toy with the remnants of eggshells, feathers and bone littering the surface of the table, Marlis looked up. “What to do you mean, stronger?”

“They can sense things, see things others can’t. They can hold back the dark,” she finished softly.

“You mean, if you perform a spell, they can stop you.”

Wilda stopped mixing before starting again, this time her movements harsh, severe. “Yes.” She practically spat the word out.

Narrowing her eyes, Marlis studied her closely. “You were stopped.”

She snatched the bowl to hurl it across the room, but Marlis stopped her. “Tell me,” said the elf-woman as she took the bowl and placed it on the table, out of Wilda’s reach.

Breathing heavily, Wilda slowly lowered herself onto the wobbly three-legged stool. She closed her eyes, swallowing hard. “I did not always live like this. My home was in a walled city, with beautiful clothes, hot food every day. I never knew my ma. My da, a warrior, was always away. My ma’s ma, my mama, she raised me.” Opening her eyes wide, she stared at Marlis, a small smile on her thin lips. “She showed me… wonderful things. She taught me how our ancestors used to worship. With blood and bone–”

“They worshipped Gadreena?”

“Yes! Countless years ago, it was Gadreena who held sway here, not this thin-blooded one they worship now.”

Marlis sat back, struck by the similarity to the hidden realm. The forbidden way was the ancient way, the way of blood and sacrifice, but now everything was about that accursed gem.

“My mama was pleased with how quickly I learned, but she warned me to keep it hidden.” She fell silent.

“You did not hide what you could do.”

Wilda pressed her lips together. “I was discovered. Taken before the new chief and his young wife. My mama was punished because it was she who had taught me. She was flogged. I was spared a flogging. The wife.” Wilda snorted. “Did she think I would thank her? She said to spare me because I was young, I’d been misled. Instead, I was banished, forbidden to return.”

“What of your father?” said Marlis, frowning. “Did he not protect you?”

Wilda turned dead eyes to her. “He said nothing. We were nothing to him.”

Silence hung in the space between them.

When Wilda finally spoke, her voice was soft. “They let me pack my things. I took mama’s box, her staff. Foolish guards, they did not know what it was I took. Thank Gadreena the wife did not lower herself to come and check what I took for she would have known.”

“She was a healer-woman?”

Wilda nodded. “Strong in her ways, I could feel it.”

“Have you ever tried to return?”

“Return to what? Even if she survived the flogging, my mama would be dead for she was surely thrown in the underground cells.”

Marlis studied the small bone she held between finger and thumb. “What is the name of this woman who banished you?”

Deliberately leaning closer, Wilda said, “Why?”

“I like to know the names of those I plan to defeat,” Marlis said with a shrug.

Wilda stared then burst into loud laughter. “But she has done nothing to you.”

Wide-eyed, Marlis sat up straight. “She has hurt you. That is reason enough for me.”

Abruptly, she stopped laughing. Her mouth fell open. “You would do that? For me?” Her voice was soft, halting.

Reaching across the table, she covered Wilda’s rough hand with hers. “You knew nothing of me, yet you saved me. And you have taught me so much. Why would I not do this for you?”

Slowly, Wilda smiled, revealing uneven teeth. “I would like to see you defeat her.”

Raising an eyebrow, Marlis said, “I will make sure she knows the reason. So, what is she called?”

“Una.”

“What?” She jerked upright, her voice loud.

Wilda frowned. “You know her?”

“No-no. The name, it surprised me–”

“Why?” The dark-haired woman squinted at her.

“I knew someone once. Her name was similar, that is all. There is no need for such suspicion, Wilda.” Hearing a name so like her sister’s had startled her and she struggled to compose herself.

Wilda snorted and returned her attention to the bowl. “Now you know the name of your victim. And you can make your plans.”

A woman stumbled against Marlis, flashed a broken-toothed grin and carried on, a large pack slung on her back.

Marlis jerked back, her breath trapped in her throat. Although taller, the woman with her pale, pinched face and wild dark hair resembled Wilda. It seemed as if a block of ice had lodged itself in Marlis’ belly and she shivered. “I will make this Una pay for making you suffer, Wilda,” she whispered, her pale, long fingers stroking the hidden staff. “That is why I chose this, your former home, to fulfil Gadreena’s task-oh!”

She squeezed her eyes shut against the unbidden memory of Wilda’s ashen face and slack mouth, her chin stained with the dribble of blood, eyes stretched in bewilderment as her thin fingers clutched at Marlis’ dress. Most times, still able to feel the knife in her hand, Marlis would glance down, expecting to see Wilda’s blood marking her hand.