The Paladin Chronicles Book bundle 1-4 by Neil Port - HTML preview

Ba'al nodded slowly. "Searching, not hiding. Æloðulf has knowledge and power beyond my understanding and it was only a lesser daimôn he used and it was underground."

She only fought a lesser daimôn?

"Those that summon daimôns bind themselves to the daimôn, just as they bind the daimôn to them," he continued. "When they do die, as they always will, their soul is absorbed into the daimôn. As you have already guessed, absorbing humans' souls has allowed us daimôn lords to progressively absorb intelligence and something akin to a human soul.

"I was the first to do that …

"Please, Jacinta, do not hate me so!"

Her face was screwed up in a look of utter revulsion.

"I didn't know at first, and then even when I knew, for a long time I had no control. As I got stronger, I tried to dissuade those that came to me, even against what was for me so hard to resist. None of them ever trusted my advice, though I spoke the truth.

"Such power, or maybe it is the knowledge that they will lose their soul, seems to drive men and women to evil. They do damage to their souls, but souls themselves are never evil and there is nothing so sweet for us as a human soul.

"The oldest of us are now more human than daimôn. And we have learnt ways to get smarter and better without binding ourselves to these evil people. I only control a part of the daimôn realm, but I have with me ten other great ones. We have sixty lieutenants and more than ten times as many 'young' ones that we foster, and we have other allies.

"We had set up laws and our influence was growing. We have had challenges before, but now we face the worst we have ever faced. There is a new and very powerful type of daimôn lord, a score of them already. They have great power but they carry a madness within them."

"Illvættir!" Jacinta spat.

"Illvættir," Ba'al agreed. "They chose lesser daimôns. Whether it is their magic or something else but when they became absorbed by the daimôn they manage to retain some of their earlier identity. They slowly gain control over their daimôn host, eating it from inside, a bit like a parasite. And they eventually regain their knowledge and former power. It has made them very strong."

"They have the power of Illvættir and a daimôn lord!" Jacinta said.

The thought was horrifying.

"At first we didn't know what was happening. Then we left it too late ... daimôns are not quick to decide things. They are already too strong for us and getting stronger. And the most powerful still walks the earth."

"Æloðulf," Jacinta said, with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Ba'al nodded. "When you destroyed Æloðulf's daimôn, he should have been completely destroyed. You drained much of his power but he is regaining his strength. If he fully recovers, none of us will be safe."

Jacinta's heart went out to him, but then he said something truly terrifying.

"He is looking for a daimôn to serve him again. He knows I and a few others travel to your realm and stay at will. If manages to absorb the ability of a daimôn, it will only be a matter of time before he learns how to travel between realms. Then he will be unstoppable. No one knows what the limits of his power will be."

Jacinta gasped. They might destroy Æloðulf on Earth but he would return, stronger than ever.

"The only solution is to try to induce him to bind with me. If he dies he will not be able to take over a daimôn lord, especially not me. Or if he can, I will know and find a way to destroy myself. If I am destroyed while he is bound to me, he could never survive the death of one as powerful as I.

"If we meet again, try to destroy me. I will give you whatever aide I can but if I am commanded I will not be able to resist his commands for very long. So whatever you do, don't hesitate."

"You plan to put yourself in his power," Jacinta whispered, appalled.

"I will give you my oath to help you all I can, but to make it binding you must promise something in return. Promise to either kill him or me, whichever you can."

Jacinta nodded, numbly.

"I have to go. May the protection of the God you serve be with you."

Jacinta suddenly felt ashamed. "Wait! Please!"

But the great Daimôn Lord was gone.

She sat for long time staring sightlessly ahead. The Ba'al had a crush on her. She shook her head, incredulous. Now she didn't find the idea as disgusting as she first did.

What's this? Feeling sorry for a Daimôn Lord?

But he was mostly human now.

She felt a little sorry for the daimôn she had destroyed. It was a dumb beast commanded by its master, but what choice did she have?

She must tell no one about this.

Absolutely no one!

 

Chapter 8: Vulnerable, Hurt and Angry

Eirene, Jacinta's third recruit, arrived two weeks later. She was in her middle twenties, older even than Elena. She was a tough and independent-minded woman who had worked around horses all her life. She had originally come looking for work as a stable hand but there was no opening. Someone sent her on to Jacinta on the off chance she had an opening for her.

As soon as Jacinta met her, she knew Eirene was someone who would complement her group perfectly, if she could be induced to join. Once she knew what Jacinta was doing, there was no problem. She accepted immediately.

Eirene had been sharing a room with a girl called Thaïs and she suggested her young friend as the fourth recruit. Thaïs had come from Illyria into Makedonía as a servant in a caravan, and then took a trading ship to Troia. It was a dangerous journey for a fifteen-year-old girl.

When Jacinta heard her story, she knew that Thaïs presented a problem. A problem she should have anticipated.

At home, Thaïs had been lured by her elder brother for a walk at night. Her brother liked to gamble and his wealthy friends were waiting for her. Thaïs had fought all she could, but she was alone, and she was just a girl. They were men and there were many of them.

When she told her parents, her brother claimed she had been meeting with strangers and when things went wrong she had tried to pin the blame on him and his friends. It was her word against of a group of well-bred men and her brother, who was a male. She was beaten, called a 'whore', and banished from the family.

Thaïs was a very angry young woman.

Jacinta wanted independent-minded, tough young women. No few of them would have been treated badly by men but she didn't want a group of man haters.

She wished Hakeem was around to show Thaïs that not all men were bad.

Maybe it was for the best, though. This was an issue for her group of young women to deal with amongst themselves. She called a meeting of her small group in a nearby room. Seléne and Elena came to lend their support, so there were seven of them.

She sat them on the floor, making a circle, so they could talk about their experiences with men. Despite all her fears it was going better than she had thought. For Jacinta it confirmed she was right in accepting Thaïs and she was realising the healing power of a group.

Thaïs was nodding to something Eirene had said. "I shouldn't judge men to be all the same. I was angry at my brother. I think he owed them money. And I was angry at my father and my uncle for beating me when I had done nothing wrong." She paused and became more thoughtful. "That old man who owned the caravan, though, he wasn't a bad man. I was covered in bruises and my clothes were ripped. I had been sleeping in the streets. The only food I had had for days was what I could scrounge. I had no money and I begged him for work and then just burst into tears.

"He took me in and fed me and helped me clean myself up. His men were teamsters. They were the roughest types, the worst that you can find anywhere, but they were good to me.

"I don't know why they even put up with me. I wasn't nice. I thought they meant to do something to me when the caravan was away from the town. I felt so angry and, well, frightened, I guess. I'd like to see them again if I could, and thank them."

"Some of the anger will go as you heal," Seléne said gently. "With time you will stop thinking that all men are waiting to attack you, and you won't jump and be so frightened at sudden noises. If you know you can defend yourself you will gain confidence.

"Jacinta will show you meditation that will help with the fear and the anger. Try to tire yourself out by the late afternoon but don't exercise and get your blood pumping too late in the evening. That will help with the poor sleep and ... the bad dreams. You will hate yourself and your body, but have patience with that." She looked around and smiled gently. "You have friends here."

Thaïs was puzzled. "Princess," she said, her voice raw with emotion, "you talk as if you know. How could someone like you know something like that?"

This was the beautiful Princess Seléne!

She was famous. She was loved and admired. Seléne shot Jacinta a sad but unmistakeable look and seemed to be gathering herself.

"Seléne, you don't have to!" Jacinta protested.

Seléne made a dismissive gesture; tears started in her eyes.

"Sorry," she apologised to Thaïs, wiping at her tears. "I thought I was over that."

Thaïs looked at her with shock and something that approached awe.

"Elena is my half-sister," Seléne continued, "both my parents were married before and widowed. Elena has her own tale to tell, but when we were growing up our father didn't treat her well, nor did my mother.

"When my father thought Elena had been killed, he became sick with grief and remorse. My half-brother Nikon took over. Nikon got the healers to poison my father and had me arrested and imprisoned. Nikon was the one working with the Hun to try to track Elena down and kill her."

Seléne paused, her voice caught. She shook her head angrily at her weakness and forced herself to continue. The tears were running freely now.

"Nikon liked to have others h-helpless … especially g-girls. He liked to frighten and humiliate them. It made him ... aroused and he liked it most with me, his own sister!

"They would bind me, naked and h-helpless and ... h-he would come. At first, he would just watch me struggle. He would taunt me to make me struggle more. And then he would hold my gaze with his eyes as he moved closer and closer with those hands of his ... I felt frantic but it only made him worse.

"He wanted me to do ... things for him … unwillingly, but still do them. I stopped struggling and tried to be unresponsive."

She shuddered, broken, and turned her face away, crimson with shame.

It was a whisper. "Sometimes my body ... reacted ... aach!"

For a moment she could say no more. Her face was burning in humiliation, hidden by her hands. Then she looked up, straight at Thaïs.

"I had no hope, but I resisted. I resisted in the only way I could, by giving nothing back to him. A-and t-then Elena c-came." Seléne was sobbing freely now, tears wetting her face, her hands, her dress. "Elena, Hakeem, Jacinta and Uncle Héctor, they c-came for me."

She looked into the distance, not seeing the others. "Hakeem killed him and I thought for a time that it was over.

"I was wrong.

"My brother had made my body dirty in a way that no soap could wash clean. He fouled me in a way no perfume could cover. I c-couldn't sleep. My b-brother's h-hand! It is on me still!"

Seléne ended, shuddering violently, helplessly sobbing. She dropped back to the floor and drew herself up, alone in her misery, her hair concealing her face, her head in her hands.

Jacinta and Elena were crying freely but made no move to go to her. The others sat stunned; their hearts went out to the elf but it was so unexpected and they were uncertain what to do.

"Thaïs!" Elena said through her tears. "We all love Seléne, but it is you. Only you can really understand."

For a heartbeat, Thaïs looked at Elena in shock.

Then she got up.

She looked around at the others waiting, uncertain at first. Then more sure, she made her way to sit next to Seléne and took her in her arms. The young elf clutched at her and laughed a little through her tears.

"S-sorry ... s-shouldn't c-cry like this."

Thaïs hugged Seléne protectively and rocked her. Her look was astonished, as if seeing for the first time a great wonder that was there all the time. The two sat hugging each other with tears and smiles of relief on their faces. It didn't matter at all that Seléne was the famous elf princess and Thaïs was a peasant, scorned by her family.

Seléne had shared a terrible secret. It would destroy her reputation in many people's eyes. But this didn't diminish her for these girls.

No, it showed her to be completely wonderful. Underneath she was vulnerable and hurt, just like them. And yet she had risen above it to inspire so many others. They now knew the full reality of her brave and loving spirit. They would guard her secret with their very lives.

For a moment they all sat in silence.

Then Jacinta stood up.

"I was only eleven," she said. "We were Gypsies and for Gypsies life is hard. My family: my mother, my sister, my brother and my father, they didn't have much … but what they could, they gave to me."

She stared blindly into the distance, tears falling.

"We worked so hard but the foreman didn't want to pay us, so he said we had stolen. For the handful of coppers he killed my family. That was all it was, and he killed them for it."

Elena looked at Jacinta longingly; she wanted to go over and comfort her daughter.

Not this time.

She bowed her head, and cried.

"Then he came for me, him and his horse. He kept letting me escape and then he would ride me down. He would jeer at me, taunt me. I was only a little girl and I had just seen my family killed. I knew he would kill me in the end. I was frantic but it was just a game to him."

She paused, looking unseeing into the distance.

"Hakeem came. He made me feel safe, he loved me and I love him … even though he is a man." She smiled a little and the girls giggled at the thought.

She paused and looked around at the others, raising her voice.

"It was awful, but I am no longer angry at those men. It was terrible, but now I understand. It was my Karma. In all that horror and terror I didn't realise then, and they never could have known, but they gave me a great gift.

"It is something I now find very precious to me. To be female and to become a warrior is hard. Men are naturally stronger. I am tall and strong for a female but I’m still very young. I had my father's training but I also had that man.

"Whenever I trained, he was there. So I trained harder. When I was tired, he was there ... taunting me and chasing me on his horse. So I kept on till my arms and legs were like lead, my body ached and my very soul cried out for rest!

"When I was in pain, he was there still ... pushing me.

"I became harder, faster and smarter. He made me the best there ever was for a girl my age.

"When I was captured by pirates, I and my friend Akhilleus should have died in that place but that man was there and he made me fight.

"In the catacombs, I felt so much pain I didn't think it was possible. I have never felt so weary. I was dying, there was a weight like a mountain pushing me down.

"But he was there. He made me get up. I had nothing left to give, but I lifted the javelin and he and the fear for my family and friends helped me throw it.

"Without him I would be married to a Gypsy man by now, or soon enough, and would be dreaming of babies. Not that there is anything wrong with that, but that is not my path.

"My meeting with that man, my meeting with Hakeem and my meeting with my dear, dear, mother here ... all of it was no accident. Your coming here to me is no accident. It is karma. Can you understand that now?"

It was karma, yes, but what a dreadful price.

For the moment, Jacinta felt again that terror and desolation. She stood hunched forward in misery, tears falling freely to the floor. Alba and Meliboea crept up to stand on either side to take her by the shoulders. Eirene came and took her in a hug from behind. Jacinta grabbed Eirene's hand and kissed it as she turned to acknowledge them.

"That man, those men, gave me a special gift. Do you know what I would do if they were not dead and I met them now?" Jacinta whispered, looking around at her new friends, tears glistening on her cheeks.

They shook their heads, puzzled.

"Why, I would kill them myself!" Jacinta laughed through her tears. She clasped her new friends to her fiercely.

"I would kill them myself," she repeated softly.

 

 

Chapter 9: A Young Gypsy File Leader … and Jólnir

Jacinta was up at first light to take the trainees through the dawn meditation. She started them on their early exercises only just in time to have Drakon arrive for her swordsmanship lesson.

She practised hard; she had to. Luckily she was a quick learner because she didn't get time to do any extra practice.

Her own lessons were barely over when she had to take her students through religious instruction, more drill, and even reading and writing lessons.

In the middle of all this Lykos arrived with his latest attempt to secure a shield to the glove. She had already decided the leverage generated by a proper shield was too much for the glove and she had told him so, but she patiently endured his next attempt, again unsuccessful.

After that she went off to meet with King Leandros to arrange supplies for her small group. Now there were four of them, she thought she had better make the arrangements official.

Elena had already mentioned to the King what she was doing and the King was delighted to help. The cost for him was trivial. He had already had the Troian army accepting young women: (mainly support staff but some warriors, mostly archers and light infantry).

"I think it will be good for you to have others to train with," Leandros said, smiling. "I only wish more Troian women could defend themselves."

There was something about that that echoed in her mind ... the king wished more Troian women could defend themselves ... he wished more Troian women could defend themselves. She shook her head to clear it and concentrate on the here and now. The King was passing her four ivory sticks elaborately carved and stained in reds, browns and blues.

"What are these, Great Lord?" Jacinta asked, studying them.

"They are vouchers," Leandros explained. "Each is good for supplies up to ten people. One is for the paymaster, one is for the quarter master, one is for the kitchen and one for my house factor. When you receive something, they get you to sign."

Jacinta nodded. It sounded like a sensible system. It would be too easy to cheat if they didn't keep a watch on things.

She didn't know it then, but she was about to enter the nightmarish world of army supply stores.

The next step seemed to be the kitchen and then the house factor, Aisopos. Though Timo had already got the girls' food allocated, somewhere to sleep and their basic needs it sounded like this was the first priority.

On the way there she met Xenia, one of the young maids she knew only slightly. Xenia asked her where she was going and Jacinta reluctantly explained. Xenia (whose name meant 'stranger' or 'guest') thought she knew everything.

"That's for the army; we don't use that system in the palace," she laughed.

"But the King gave me these tokens," Jacinta said, showing her the two in question.

"You don't think the King runs the household do you?" Xenia chuckled. "There's people coming and going all the time, how could we use such a system? We have our own; don't worry, we already know about you and your girls."

"What will I do with these?" Jacinta said, looking at the two tokens.

"Keep them." Xenia shrugged.

"I'm supposed to give one to the kitchen and one to Aisopos," Jacinta said, uncertain.

"Well, give them to me then," Xenia replied, irritated. "I'll pass them over."

Jacinta felt reluctant, but she didn't want to give Xenia the impression she didn't trust her. As she walked the distance to the paymaster's office she couldn't shake an awful feeling she had done the wrong thing by surrendering the tokens too easily.

The door at the paymaster's office was closed and no one was around so she went in search of the store room and the quarter master. The army store was in a large barn. An old sergeant sat behind a long wooden desk. He looked Jacinta up and down when she said why she was there.

"Are you the squad leader? We don't let anyone your age pick up supplies. Get your weapons master to send someone older."

"I'm not a squad leader," Jacinta explained. "I and the girls are training to be Shayvists, and the King has agreed to fund us."

The Shayvist weren't part of the army.

The wizened supply sergeant screwed his eyes up and scratched his beard.

"Shayvist? I haven't heard of that battalion."

"Shayvists," Jacinta agreed. "I'm their squad leader. We're a new group being set up, of all girls. There are only five of us so far and they haven't given us a proper weapons master yet."

"I know what it's like," the sergeant said sympathetically. "They can never get anything organised in the army. Shayvists, though; I just haven't heard of them."

"We're new; we're attached to the Shantawi," Jacinta explained.

"Oh, that explains it!" the supply sergeant said. "How am I supposed to keep track of all you foreigners? It would be much simpler without you all ... with respect to you and your group, of course."

Yes, it would have been. Troia would be lost to the Athēnai or the Makedónes and all our bones would be lying under the rubble … but at least this old man working for the quarter master would be happy.

Jacinta waited.

"Sounds like your bunch is as hopeless as ours." He shook his head laughing.

"Well, how many are you and what sort? This is only good for ten."

"Five of us, we are peltastae. We will also be training with the bow and the elvish sword but my mother will supply those."

"You'll need to see the paymaster and get this changed into two five-man tokens; make sure you get the one for trainees, these are for adults."

Jacinta looked at him, disbelieving. "Don't you have any five-man tokens for trainees?"

The man nodded, looking at his wooden box.

"Then can't you give me change?"

The old man screwed up his face and sucked his gums, considering.

"The pay master's closed," Jacinta prompted.

"Oh, all right. It's just that this is an adult ten-man token."

The old man reluctantly passed over a single bone token carved and painted differently. He then took a sizable bundle of small wooden sticks out of his pouch tied by a yellow ribbon and put them on the table. Then he took something else from a small leather pouch and transferred it to another small leather pouch and made a note on a wax tablet.

"Can you read Greek?" he asked.

"Yes," Jacinta said absently. "What are these?" she asked, looking at the wooden sticks.

"They are called chits," he said while getting her to make her mark. "They are good for most of the supplies you need: blankets, weapons and such. Don't lose any or it will come out of your pay."

Jacinta wondered what happened to the five short swords she wouldn't be receiving. She would have liked them as well, but didn't want to start an argument.

Now she thought about it, the adult equipment would be better quality than that given to trainees. The storeman was doing well from the exchange ... but he was nice so she didn't mind too much. He hadn't asked for a bribe. Her father wouldn't tolerate any serious corruption but some small stuff was inevitable.

"Can I get any of it now?" she asked.

"No." The man smiled as if pleased to be able to finally say "no".

"I just do the chits; you need to come back between first light and mid-day."

Jacinta would have come back in the afternoon, so she was pleased with this part of the information. "When is the pay office open?" she asked.

"Mornings like the store, but paying day is third day new moon rising. That was last Hemera Khronu (Saturday). Don't worry, they will add it to your next pay. The money's not much as a junior recruit, they provide everything."

Jacinta shrugged, she had some money she could loan her girls.

"If you listen to me," the sergeant continued, "only take a quarter of your pay, they'll save the rest for you. You'll need it for things they don't supply like your own knife or special weapons ... and beer ...er, I suppose you girls might like clothing and scented things."

She nodded her thanks and left.

* * *

Next morning, after a busy training session, Jacinta ran all the way to the pay master's only to find herself at the end of a long line waiting to be served. It seemed to take forever.

"You have to bring your girls, of course," the clerk said, surprised at her stupidity.

Jacinta glanced at the position of the sun barely visible through a heavy layer of cloud.

She would never make it.

She went by the stores to get the extra blankets. The winter allotment was two coarse blankets. They would make an awkward load. She just hoped it wouldn't rain before she got them back.

"I don't think you can carry all those by yourself," the clerk told her. "Why don't you take half and come back tomorrow morning for the other half?"

And wait in another line?

"Can I borrow some rope?"

She bundled most of them over her shoulders and the rest to her middle, tying them on. She felt like an overburdened donkey.

She anxiously checked the sky. There was a growl of thunder, a flash of lightning and a cold breeze sprung up. She waddled as fast as she could back to their quarters.

It started to rain but she couldn't go any faster ...

And there was no shelter.

All she could do was struggle doggedly on as the rain got heavier.

By the time she reached the quarters she was chilled and soaked through.

"Why did you bring those army issue blankets here?" Timo asked as she stumbled in dripping wet with her pile of sodden blankets. "We have much better."

"I was told I needed them," Jacinta said dejectedly as she dumped them near the entrance, leaving a puddle on the floor.

Now she thought about it, it was rather silly to bring army issue blankets into the palace. But it was all she had achieved in two days of waiting in queues.

"Don't worry. I'll get them returned for you."

Jacinta looked sadly at her soggy pile.

Thanking Timo, she decided to go in search of Seléne and her mother.

She found them sitting with her four recruits and Melissa, Seléne's pretty red-haired elvish maid.

"Oh hello, Jacinta. We have been explaining about the festival of Jólnir; have you had much time to think of whether you and the girls want to do something special?"

She felt a surge of shame. The winter solstice! It was so important to the elves. How could she forget something like that?

"We still have a few weeks," she said, thinking dully.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she added miserably, as she realised her mistake.

The elves use a solar calendar with fixed months of thirty or thirty-one days. The second month is twenty-eight days and twenty-nine days most fourth-year. The Greeks use a seven-day week but for most day-to-day use and festivals , they use a lunar calendar.

The lunar calendar has twelve months: 29-day (hollow) lunar months, alternating with 30-day (full) lunar months.

Each lunar month had (day one) 'new moon' followed by days 2-10 'rising moon'. This was then followed by days 11-19 'full moon' both of these two were counted forward and then they were followed by ten or eleven days of 'waning' moon (counted backwards down to the final day called 'new and old').

A lunar year is eleven and quarter days short of a solar year. Every three years a month has to be repeated (usually in the mid-winter). But when this month is added varies from city to city and is sometimes was varied for local reasons. So many of the lunar calendars across the Greek world don't match.

So, let's see … for Troia … this year the elvish ceremony was, what? A full two weeks before the Athenian equivalent. She gasped. Jól-tide was only ten days away!

How could she make such a simple mistake?

"I seem to be forgetting a lot of things lately," she said despondently.

"We were just talking about that," Eirene declared.

"Well, I'm sorry!" Jacinta said loudly, her eyes growing moist. "I'm trying my best. I just don't have time for all I have to do."

"Why don't you let us help?" Eirene suggested.

Jacinta opened her mouth to reply angrily, and then she left it open in surprise and confusion.

The tokens were given to me.

"You don't think I bother with tokens, do you?" Elena asked her gently, taking her in her arms. Jacinta gave them all a sheepish look. They couldn't be any worse than her, after all.

* * *

Now that the others had taken over some of her tasks Jacinta had time to relax sometimes. Not much, though! Most of her time was still taken up either with her own training or training her girls.

Elena suggested Jacinta appoint Eirene as 'den mother' and make her in charge of most administrative matters running their small group. Eirene had already started to mother the younger girls anyway.

Jacinta, with help from her mother, was in overall charge of training (or organising others to do the training) but as the youngest she could hardly maintain authority over the other girls, in general behaviour, hygiene, tidiness and similar personal matters. Especially with a group of otherwise healthy young girls whose thoughts would very soon be turning to fun and boys, not necessarily in that order.

It meant that Jacinta would have to follow Eirene's orders just like the others. In fact, she had to follow them even more so, and her mother would be there to back up Eirene's authority in case Jacinta forgot.

Not that it was needed; Jacinta had no time to get into any mischief. Sometimes all she could do in the evening was to crawl into her own room and fall into an exhausted sleep while the others were still up chatting. They knew why this was and were nice to her and helped her whenever they could.

Slowly, to Jacinta's great relief, more of her other duties passed to others.

Eirene had managed to commandeer an old barn near the citadel for their training.

There was no shortage at all of good, if somewhat old, teachers of peltastae training.

Seléne hired an old clerk to teach the girls reading and writing and Elena, Drakon and Alfarr volunteered to teach them the use of the bow and sword.

When Drakon's offer came, Jacinta was particularly moved.

"I can't trust a human to teach them, can I?" he said, giving her one of his lopsided grin.

She knew not to make a fuss. Drakon would have described any expressions of gratitude as 'unnecessary human chatter'. He already knew she was grateful, so why did she have to say so?

It left Jacinta teaching meditation, Shayvist law and philosophy, unarmed combat and assisting the other trainers when needed.

About this time, she got a letter from her father. As usual, he said nothing about what he was doing to prepare Karsh but apparently, the Grand Abbot had given her (retrospective) permission to recruit female novices to the order. It was an amazing concession.

It wasn't all good news, though. Jacinta and her girls would be 'examined' by someone called Brother Shafer. He was a senior member of the religious arm of the order. He was travelling to the Black Sea enclave and had decided to detour all the way to Troia

It was another thing to worry about.

The worst bit, she had already suspected. Hakeem wouldn't be back for her birthday though he sent a beautifully illustrated book of Shayvist poetry.

She would rather have had her father!

* * *

Jól-tide , mid winter solstice

Jacinta looked gloomily out at the rain. Jól-tide was due to start tomorrow.

She had missed her first two Jól-tides: arriving late with her father at Myriani's farm and the second one in the turmoil surrounding the rescue of King Cyron and Seléne so she was really looking forwards to it.

The nicest way to celebrate it was outdoors, but it wouldn't be possible with this stupid rain! So no bonfires, no decorating trees with lanterns and no procession of elves singing through the forests and the orchards.

She sighed, staring at the rain.

The elves in Troia had decided to celebrate the Solstice over three days rather than the traditional twelve, because the Troians had their own festivities following soon after.

Some of the elf men had hauled a small pine tree into the common room given over to elves. They had planted it in a great cask weighted with rocks and soil and the elf maidens got busy decorating it and the rest of the room with ribbons, lanterns, toys and stars.

A huge seasoned log was also hauled in and one end was shoved into the fire place to build the fire around, as a symbol of the mother's gifts. It was so large it stretched well out into the room for everyone to trip over (except elves didn't trip over such things). It did make a jolly fire and the palace was starting to take on a festive air (as much as it could with all the rain)!

Jólnir, the old grandfather riding a large goat (or pony), was said to bring the ale and wine for the festival, and gifts for all good children. While Jacinta and her girls were not really children, they dutifully put a small pile of hay outside their door and a tiny cup each of watered wine before going to sleep.

The next morning, Jacinta's offering had disappeared, and there was a neat parcel of short-biscuits wrapped in thin papuros (papyrus) stained red with food dye. Shortbread was a usually baked into large, flat, rounded biscuits shaped like unleavened bread and imprinted with the rays of the sun. It was really a human recipe but the elves loved it and had made it their own.

These were small, and shaped like stars. She nibbled one and closed her eyes with bliss.

She lifted up her bag of short-bread-stars and padded next door in her woollen socks to where the girls were quartered. She was glad that the girls' quarters had been brought closer to hers. Seléne was too busy all the time now and she was desperately missing her friendship.

After so many wars there were many widowed and unmarried women in Troia. Hakeem had enlisted Seléne's help in encouraging his young Athenian Greeks to find a local bride. So she was busy organising social events in the cities and towns. She had taken on two assistants and was working out of an office suite in the palace.

As Jacinta approached the girls' dormitory she could hear her girls talking. Eirene had a pillow over her head and was trying to doze while the other three were sitting cross-legged on the floor, chatting excitedly.

"Good morning, boss," Thaïs amiably greeted her, chewing some honeyed nuts. "These are so good! What did you get?"

Jacinta passed hers across and joined her new friends on the floor to sample their offerings. Eirene climbed off her couch bed and joined them, trying to smooth her tousled hair, yawning and stretching and looking bleary eyed.

"They wouldn't let me sleep last night, and haven't they heard of a sleep-in on holy days?"

"Granny here needs her rest," Alba laughed.

"Who gave us the sweets?" Meliboea asked, trying to think which of the palace elves might have gone to all the trouble.

"Jólnir, of course!" Alba replied.

Meliboea threw a sticky paper wrapper at her sister.

"When can we visit Seléne and the rest?" Thaïs asked.

"Not till after breakfast," Eirene said firmly.

"Let's go then!" Thaïs suggested. "Isn't this breakfast?"

* * *

It was on the last day of the three-day Jólnir that Drakon found her.

"My Lady, Elena!" Drakon yelled urgently as he rushed in, bearing the small body in his arms.

Elena, struck by the urgency in his voice, ran to see as Drakon placed a small form on a nearby klinē (couch) as her maid rushed to get blankets.

"What is it?"

"A street rat, my Queen, I found her dying in an alleyway."

"You'll become like my daughter with your very own strays," Elena said as she hurried over to take a look. "This one I know! It is Tycho's last conquest. He preys on poor girls who are young and have no male to avenge them. He flatters them, dresses them in nice clothes and says he is in love with them. As soon as they no longer please him, he is on to the next one.

"If they were slaves, he would need to care for them and any children he begets. He can well afford to, but no, he does this sort of thing instead. Everyone knows what he does. He boasts loudly enough. What was her name? … Io, I think."

"Well, Tycho doesn't take care of his women. Why, she is barely a child!" Drakon said in outrage. "That man is overdue for a lesson in swords play. I will oblige him. Soon, I think!"

"Drakon, you will do no such thing. We are guests in this city. Fetch Jacinta and, for the Mother's sake, hurry."

* * *

A Hunnic winter camp and an outcast samān

The setting sun cast long shadows over the harsh grass land, its dying rays red against the small cluster of yurts. Gansükh looked sourly across small dips covered with patchy snow and ice to the nomad's winter camp. A frigid blast tugged at his tent.

It would be a cold night and he was short of fuel.

Someone had substituted his last batch of dried cow dung with fresher dung. It yielded no heat just choking smoke and an appalling smell. When he had stumbled coughing out of the yurt, he could hear someone laughing somewhere out in the dark.

"So this is all Mòdú Chányú gives us now."

Gansükh spun, snatching for his boot knife.

Æloðulf had suddenly appeared near the mouth of the yurt.

"Master!" Gansükh surged forward to embrace his teacher in relief. "They told me you were dead."

Æloðulf stumbled and Gansükh had to grab him.

"Close enough, and I’m still not recovered," Æloðulf admitted. "You failed me badly by not killing that one small girl, Gansükh."

"Jacinta? I sent a thousand men against two hundred, and who would ever think she could kill your daimôn? She is still hidden from my sight."

Æloðulf made a dismissive motion with his hand. "She carries some dwarf magic and has learned to hide her thoughts. When the time is right, I will hunt her down. I have faced countless others with real power and I have magics of which she has no clue.

"Now tell me. What you are doing here in the middle of nowhere, instead of a palace."

Gansükh took him into the tent and gave him bread and tea while they talked.

"I have always had many enemies," Gansükh admitted heavily. "These barbarians revere their šamáns. Most are dirty pretenders with no real ability but all of them are joined against me, openly or in secret.

"It hardly mattered when my position was strong, but when the men I sent to destroy the Gypsy brat failed, I lost much face. When she destroyed your daimôn, they said you were dead and I have had nothing but taunts and insults ever since.

"At first the Chányú got me to summon my daimôn, Namatar, again and again. I thought it was to demonstrate my power, but it was for his entertainment. I think our enemies told him how much it costs me each time."

Gansükh paused, his face a mask of anger at the memory.

"Eventually I refused, and then it became worse. I became so angry I asked Namatar to destroy him. "

Æloðulf laughed. "He wouldn't, would he?"

"Who has ever heard of a daimôn with ethics?" Gansükh spat in disgust. "He said I had sworn an oath to the Mòdú."

"Daimôns have their own laws and rules, especially the intelligent ones." Æloðulf shrugged. "We still need the Mòdú and his men to fight a war, don't forget. There will be time later to put him in his place."

" I am still very weak and cannot stay long. We must build our strength." He took a breath. "Now, this is what I want you to do ..."

 

 

Chapter 10: A Dress, a Mainades, and Dating

A dress and a ball

Jacinta ensured she would be alone.

Then she sat down on a stool and took her glove off. She held her hand up and stared at it hard and willed it to move, like she did every day.

Did it move? Or was she just staring at it too long? Was there was a fine tremor at the tips of the fingers or was that just tension in her forearm?

She heard voices just outside her door.

"Come in!" she called out, frantically struggling to pull her glove back on.

Seléne swept in with her maid, Melissa, in tow. She was carrying a magnificent silky red dress.

"Do you like it, Jacinta?" Seléne asked.

"Oh, I do, it's lovely!" Jacinta said, admiring the elf-woven silk, as she struggled with the last of her glove. Elvish silk is an art humans cannot match. They can weave it in that special way called satin weave.

Wait on ... it was too slender for Seléne, especially across the bust.

"Seléne, it's lovely, but I have a dress."

"Yes," Seléne pouted a little, "but people have seen that dress, Jacinta. Have you forgotten your birthday? I only showed this to you because it needs to be fitted."

Jacinta was a little puzzled. "It's really beautiful, Seléne, but I'm not going anywhere where I can wear this sort of dress."

"Ahh, my young friend, that's where you're wrong!" Seléne replied, smiling triumphantly.

"Surely you haven't forgotten the Junior Officers' Graduation Ball? Everyone who is anyone will be there." Seléne finished smugly.

"Seléne, I'm not going!" said Jacinta. She began kneading her left hand in her agitation. "I don't care what you say. Anyway, what's all this mania over dances and balls?"

"You know very well. It's Hakeem's orders. People here have been either at war or between wars for years; everyone has forgotten how to have fun."

"That's all very well for you." Jacinta blushed deeply. "You don't have to work out who you are going with."

Who wants to take a one-armed swordswoman to a ball?

"You, my good friend, have no sense of adventure. Besides, I have selected someone for you. You, my girl, have received an invitation."

"I haven't said yes, and I won't go!" Jacinta said sulkily.

"Thought you'd say that; that's why I said 'yes' on your behalf. You can't stop life just because of your hand."

"It's not my hand!" said Jacinta and then she stopped.

She realised she was playing with her hand again.

"Seléne, it's not fair you agreeing on my behalf," she said, feeling a surge of panic.

"Actually, it is fair. This is a formal event. Well-bred girls are not allowed to answer for themselves, especially at your age. Why, it would be a major scandal! So, an older relative," Seléne took on a lofty tone, "such as myself, has to accept on your behalf. If you don't think that's fair, you can always appeal to my sister."

She gave Jacinta a sweet smile. She had Jacinta trapped and she knew it.

Jacinta's shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Who's the horrible boor you have lumbered me with on this tiresome night of yours?" she asked

"He's named Akhilleus. I've never seen anyone so nervous in all my life. He's rather handsome; I might go for him myself if I wasn't otherwise spoken for. He is to be an Anthypolochagos (second lieutenant) and has a temporary posting in Troia. You should have seen the look on his face when I said yes. I said you didn't have anyone else at the moment because you had just broken up with that prince. I also said that you talked fondly of him on occasion, why haven't you mentioned him before?"

"Akhilleus!" Jacinta's face lit up with absolute delight. "He must be back from Abydos . Of course, he's graduating!" she said excitedly.

She awkwardly tried to lift up the dress from the bed and hold it against herself one handed.

"What prince ... and where's the rest of this?" she asked, confused.

"You know these seamstresses," said Seléne with a wicked glint in her eye. "The less dress they give you, the more they charge."

"Does Akhilleus know about … ?"

"Jacinta, it's called a hand. And everyone knows about 'Jacinta the Daimôn-bane'. I got a very definite impression Akhilleus was more interested in Jacinta, the pretty Gypsy friend of Princess Seléne. I think he wants to dance with you, not go slaying dragons or anything."

"Daimôns," said Jacinta absently as she admired the dress. The material was exquisite: silky and crimson. "Can I try it on?"

Seléne let that one go.

She was watching her friend's excitement and distraction with amusement. She was intrigued by the magical effect the name 'Akhilleus' had on her. She knew Akhilleus was the one who was with Jacinta when she was abducted by the pirates. That had been before Seléne came to Troia. Wasn't she supposed to be seeing Aison then, and why hadn't Jacinta mentioned him before?

"Here, these go with it," she said, passing Jacinta some brief silky underpants.

Jacinta held the sleek underpants in her hand with a question on her face. The material was smooth and silky but slightly elastic. She hadn't seen anything like it before. Even for an elf, it would be incredibly expensive, but why so small and so snug?

"You'll see, Jacinta." Seléne motioned encouragement.

Jacinta found out.

She needed help from both Seléne and Melissa pulling the dress down over her hips even with the silky underpants! It would have been impossible for her with one hand.

"Seléne, it's so beautiful, but it doesn't fit me," Jacinta said, feeling disappointed.

Seléne was looking at her friend with something like awe. "Jacinta, it's perfect! You look fabulous!"

"It's tight across my bum and it grabs my thighs, I can't move freely in it and what's the slit for?" Jacinta asked.

"It's supposed to be tight, that's what the special underwear is for so it looks like you aren't wearing any. The slit allows you to dance and shows off your thigh to effect," Seléne said, looking at Jacinta with great satisfaction.

"I don't think I can defend myself in this," Jacinta considered, sounding unsure. "And it needs a belt for my purse and dagger."

"Oh no! This is worse than I thought!" Seléne reached over to tap her friend playfully on the head. "You're supposed to be dependent on your escort. He protects you and pays your expenses."

"You mean I'm supposed to make myself helpless?" Jacinta asked.

She wouldn't have freedom to move quickly or do a decent kick ... but it did make her look and feel very pretty.

"Not completely helpless, no, but you are not on duty either. It is supposed to be fun. It's one of the games men and women play. You want someone to make you feel safe and protected, don't you, while you concentrate on looking beautiful and desirable? And men like to feel strong and protective."

Jacinta felt a strange tingly thrill go through her body at the thought of Akhilleus looking after her. They would not be going anywhere where there was real danger and Akhilleus was more than capable of protecting them both.

It was almost a year ago that he had been with her when they were captured by pirates, after an accident with a raft. They had fought well together. During the danger Jacinta was the one who took control. She had killed three of the men to Akhilleus's one and they both injured one each. Afterwards when they were safe the terror and horror of it had hit her all at once and she had collapsed, helplessly sobbing. She still remembered how Akhilleus kissed her and the feel of his strong arms around her making her feel safe. He had visited her later and brought her flowers.

Akhilleus was definitely a good, strong shoulder to lean on ... and he was a great kisser.

At the time she was involved with his best friend Aison, so Akhilleus refused to let their mutual attraction go further. After the defeat of the Athēnai fleet, Akhilleus had been sent to Abydos. She hadn't thought she would see him again. She felt flushed at the thought of him taking her to a ball.

The dress trailed on the floor. Melissa showed her the cloth hook stitched into it so she could move and dance. The top was a halter neck and the back was cut down almost to the new underpants. Most of her back was exposed, apart from an 'X' where two straps of the halter joined. In the front there was a narrow 'V' between her breasts to expose whatever cleavage Jacinta could manage.

At each 'V' and at the 'X' there was a flat cluster of very tiny Skythian cut-glass diamante. It exposed a lot of her, and this was winter!

"I'll freeze in this!" she moaned.

"No, my Lady," Melissa said enthusiastically. "The material is warm and you wear a fur half- cloak over it and then a full cloak out of doors. Inside the main ballroom just it alone but there are three great fire places."

"Why does it have so little material?"

"So Akhilleus can see your skin." Seléne giggled.

"Seléne, he's seen me naked."

"Ah, but this is so much better than naked!"

"Mother will never allow it."

"She will be visiting our father. I will be in charge of you, with your mother away."

Jacinta stuck out her tongue. Seléne would be in charge of her, sure. That would be until her mother heard of the scandal and returned in haste.

Yet ...

Jacinta knew she would regret this, but her resolve was melting. The dress was possibly one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen.

"Do you think he'll find me pretty in this dress?" she asked shyly, weakening.

She would like to be pretty for Akhilleus.

"If Akhilleus can breathe after he sees you in this dress I'll be surprised," Seléne said with satisfaction. "Let's see you move. No, like this …" Seléne demonstrated.

Jacinta giggled and then she tried to move as her friend had shown her.

"Wow, Jacinta!" Seléne muttered in admiration.

"You're perfect for this dress, my Lady!" Melissa added.

Jacinta felt pleased as she practised moving as gracefully as she could in the dress. She wished they had full length mirrors. The flat crimson material clung to her stomach and shone.

"The colour's perfect," Seléne said. "Are you getting darker?"

Jacinta nodded; something in the clash with the daimôn had darkened her complexion.

Then Jacinta noticed something that threatened to spoil everything.

"I don't fill it!" she said, gesturing plaintively at her bust.

"You can't be serious!" Seléne said disbelievingly. "Hasn't Elena told you about padded under-binders?"

Jacinta just looked at her. Padded ...?

Then she thought what they must be. Were there really such things? Seléne would never need something called 'padded under-binders'.

"Isn't that cheating?" she asked uncertainly.

* * *

The festival of Dionysos

The young feminine-looking but male God, Dionysos, belonged to the ancient people of Anatolē. In the darker past, the secret Dionysos cults of women could be murderous, terrorising some of the smaller villages and killing any who threatened women or opposed the cult.

Back then, the Mainades ('mad women of Dionysos') could equally dance with drunken abandon or join in ritualised vengeance.

Now that the dangerous Dionysos cults had been finally stamped out. The main festival of 'Dionysos' was mid-spring and over time it had absorbed some of the worship and rituals of an older, gentler rural God of the harvest: an old man who came on a donkey bringing wine. And the Dionysos festival had become very popular. Who, after all, wouldn't want a festival of entertainment, drunkenness and abandonment?

It was impossible to have too much of a good thing, so a second Dionysos festival had arisen at the winter solstice.

This had started in the villages of western Anatolē and nearby Thráki where it had previously been used to honour a few nameless and forgotten rustic Gods. It became called the 'minor' Dionysos or 'Dionysia ta kat' agrous' (the rural festival of Dionysos).

Even though the two festivals of Dionysos were not nearly as dangerous as they had been, they still had a tradition of drunkenness and mayhem so Eirene warned her girls, if they were to go out, to go in a group and avoid any dark places.

"Drakon invited you to the solstice?" Jacinta exclaimed in surprise. "You two always seem to be fighting with each other. Didn't you say he was a conceited pig?"

"Well, he is! He thinks he knows everything." Thaïs giggled prettily. "That doesn't mean I won't go to the Dionysia ta kat' agrous with him. I suppose he couldn’t find anyone else to go with him so he had to ask me."

Jacinta scoffed at that particular thought – but Thaïs and Drakon?

She thought back to the almost endless teasing exchanges between them in a very different light.

Thaïs was too young for the wilder celebrations so Elena (who hadn't left yet) and Eirene talked to Drakon very firmly beforehand.

"You'll be safe with Drakon, but be careful," Jacinta warned her.

"We'll be with a group of friends," said Thaïs smiling. "But if Drakon gives me any trouble, I'll cut off his balls."

"You will not cut off Drakon's balls!" Jacinta looked at her friend in fright. "He's a complete gentleman, and it's not an assault if he tries to kiss you."

"Not as long as I want to kiss him as well," Thaïs replied, looking thoughtful as she tested the edge of her belt knife with her thumb.

"I want him to teach you girls swords-play," Jacinta mentioned, feeling anxious.

"Do you think he will refuse if I cut off his balls?"

* * *

Drakon was expected soon. Thaïs emerged dressed in a white woollen dress. The other girls had tied white winter flowers in her hair and she carried a staff topped with a pine cone and wrapped with vine leaves. She was imitating one of the Mainades.

"How do I look?"

"Very pretty" and she did. "but did you have to dress as a Mainades?" Jacinta asked, looking uncertain. What sort of message was Thaïs trying to give Drakon?

"Jacinta, try to relax!" Thaïs protested laughing. "If you like, I won't take my knife."

"No, take it. Just be careful and have a good time."

"I really think I will," Thaïs said with a secret smile.

Drakon and a group of elves had arrived and she hurried to meet them, linking arms with Drakon possessively and giving her friends a cheerful wave. As she watched them leave, a very unexpected feeling surged through Jacinta.

I'm not jealous! No, of course not.

Yes, you are, Jacinta! You know Drakon was attracted to you and you loved it, but you didn't want him until it looked like you might lose him to someone else. You love being the centre of attention, don't you, girl? You are jealous of Thaïs and Drakon, aren't you, Jacinta?

Oooh! It was so painful to see something about herself that she didn't like!

She mentally shook herself.

She loved Drakon and she loved Thaïs. It was easier that Drakon was choosing a friend of hers. She didn't know what she would feel if he went out with some unknown elf girl.

Hold on, it was only one date! But somehow she knew it was going to be more than that.

With some difficulty she took her feelings in hand. By the time she joined the other girls to stay up chatting and playing games of chance she was feeling excited and happy for her two friends, hoping they had a wonderful evening together.

No one mentioned anything about going to bed.

As promised, Drakon dropped her off early.

"You were right," Thaïs said with a little secret smile as she sat down to talk. "Drakon is a perfect gentleman. I really enjoyed myself. Women are greatly honoured amongst the elves."

Better than with the many of the humans, Jacinta thought, but she kept it to herself.

"And he is rather handsome."

"Did he try to kiss you?" Meliboea asked.

"No, I kissed him!" Thaïs laughed.

Jacinta was bursting to ask more but let that pass.

"He kisses well, but no, just friends."

Jacinta smiled; she was relieved that her friend's balls were intact.

She was over her burst of jealousy. What was left seemed to add to, rather than take away from, her excitement over her friends' happiness.

Jacinta, you are such a strange girl; make up your mind for the sake of the Goddess.

Thaïs opened a small lace cloth and dramatically showed them two glazed cherries. They all giggled as she made a production of putting one in her mouth with exaggerated enjoyment. She offered the other to Jacinta but she just smiled and shook her head.

"You're completely hopeless, Thaïs," she said, laughing and getting up to hug her friend. "I'm so glad we have you."

* * *

Tycho

The Dionysia was over; had he drunk that much?

His head was spinning and he couldn't move. He heard giggling all around as he struggled to wake.

"He's ready," a feminine voice announced.

He felt his head grabbed by strong arms while someone forced a bitter drink into his mouth. Then his jaw was clamped and nose pinched. He gasped, almost drowning as he was forced to swallow. Terror lent him some clarity and strength, but all he could do was struggle helplessly. Then he was released and, with an effort, he raised his head.

It was night, and he was in a forest clearing lit by a small fire. He was facing a semi-circle of girls dressed as forest nymphs. Their faces were hidden behind doe masks, making them look strange and inhuman.

These were mainades! The real ones, but he thought there were none of those women left. He tried to sit up and found his hands and feet were staked to the ground.

He was about to vomit!

"This is Tycho, sisters," one of the nymphs announced. "He's from a good family. He has taken a young girl who was innocent and poor and he dazzled her with gifts. He said he loved her and planned to marry her but he ruined her life instead.

"It was a joke to him; it was a game."

Tycho remembered boasting to his friends that he was going out to get another poor and stupid virgin into his bed tonight. He had met a peasant girl, pretty and young, maybe thirteen, only just turning into a woman. She had red hair but he had trouble remembering her face. They had been in some unfamiliar kapeleion (taverna), he couldn't remember which one.

She wasn't shy. That always had made him nervous. He didn't like confident girls.

He remembered chatting to her, telling her he was rich and completely taken by her. He was good at that. Now he wished he had run a million miles from her.

The head nymph held up a small knife for them all to see.

"I think we need to tame the little man between his legs, what do you think, sisters?"

"I will pay money!" Tycho screamed, struggling to get free.

She moved closer, swaying her hips as she walked.

"Please ... who is the girl?"

At that their leader stopped and all the girls glanced meaningfully, one to the other.

Then they all laughed.

"Who is the girl?" their leader sneered. "Wrong thing to say, Tycho; don't you even know their names now?"

She held the knife up again as he frantically jerked against his bounds. She pulled the woollen cloak off him. He was naked underneath. To his horror he was becoming erect.

"Look, sisters." She laughed. "Such a strong little man it is, and so eager! Perhaps it thinks it can fight my little knife, what do you think?"

Tycho felt cold metal stroking his pulsing shaft while the woman gathered his testicles in her hand.

"I think my knife will tame this strong little boy that is so eager."

Tycho began to scream over and over, he was crying, he was begging, he was jerking to get free. A gag was forced in his mouth and a loose hood over his head. There was a sweet smell as hash smoke billowed up under the hood. He coughed weakly against the gag, struggling to stay awake.

He woke screaming, the morning sun was in his eyes.

There was no hood, he was unbound.

The fire had burnt down to embers. He looked around the clearing. No one was around; there were no ropes nor were there marks where the stakes had been. There were no tracks.

Was it even the same clearing?

Had he been drugged and dreamed it all? He vomited weakly and struggled to his feet; his head was pounding, his mouth dry and his body was unsteady.

Then he felt the bandage in his groin. With his heart thundering, he wrenched at it. It came away bloody in his hand with two small shrivelled pieces of meat inside.

He screamed, he couldn't get enough air.

Then he felt gingerly down below. No soreness. His testicles were still there. He lifted his clothes and carefully checked. Shaking uncontrollably, he threw the bandage and the lamb testes in the embers of the fire.

He should be in a rage but instead he felt terrified.

This was no prank.

It was a warning and he didn't know whose faces were behind those masks.

 

 

Chapter 11: An Officer's Ball

Seléne and Pericles had left already.

Jacinta was pacing nervously, waiting for Akhilleus. Timo had given up trying to calm the young girl and had summoned reinforcements.

Oh no! My hair is short like a boy's!

"Jacinta, please relax," Meliboea said, watching her. "Don't keep pacing around like that. You're making me dizzy."

I need my mother!

"You look wonderful," Eirene said with genuine appreciation. Alba nodded encouragingly.

"Don't worry," Thaïs reassured her. "You and that dress together are a lethal weapon."

Outside the door there was a murmur of male voices. Jacinta looked at her friends, with panic written all over her face.

Timo hurried to show the men in, and then Akhilleus and a younger man were standing smartly, waiting for her in richly woven kilts, woollen tunics and long cloaks. It was almost a year since Jacinta had last seen Akhilleus and he looked almost impossibly handsome.

When he saw her in the dress, his reaction was everything anyone could have wished for. He stood there transfixed, his mouth partly open. Jacinta tried to move casually to greet him but her face was hot with embarrassment.

"Hello, Akhilleus, thanks for inviting me," she said softly, her head down.

Akhilleus opened his mouth but no words came out. Then he recovered and was the same old Akhilleus. "Jacinta, I had forgotten just how beautiful you were. I'm glad you broke up with the prince."

Prince?

"Oh, yes," she said, feeling flustered.

Timo helped her put her short jacket on and then her woollen overcoat.

"Don't worry, I have a coach," Akhilleus said smiling. "Eirenaios has agreed to drive for us."

Coach? That is far too expensive! We could have easily walked!

"Thank you, Akhilleus," was all she said.

She awkwardly offered him her right hand which also held the hook lifting the train of her dress. He very firmly reached to take her left hand and kissed the single black satin glove she was wearing, and smiled.

Jacinta felt like fainting.

When they arrived at the door to the ballroom, the attendants took their coats.

Melissa had lied. The chill breeze clamped on the centre of her back as if someone had placed a block of ice there. Trust the elves to make a dress that is not warm enough.

Well, she could put up with a bit of discomfort, couldn't she?

The whole room of people seemed to be watching them as they were announced. She felt like clutching at Akhilleus's arm in fright. She forced herself to rest lightly on his arm.

"Kyrie Anthypolochagos Akhilleus Kleiniou, and Lady Jacinta bint Hakeem."

Kleinias, that would be his father's given name. Damn Akhilleus! He never talked about himself.

They smiled at each other and moved forward on cue. The band was playing a local favourite, not a dance yet.

"There she is!" Several of the newly commissioned officers and their escorts started to drift over to greet her as they moved clear of the entrance. Jacinta felt the heat rush to her face, pleased but embarrassed. She didn't realise she had so many friends. She was in danger of being mobbed!

She would have loved to chat and have a laugh with each of these young men, many of whom were old friends, but she doggedly concentrated on meeting their escorts and trying to draw the focus back onto them. She knew the hours of preparation the girls went through for this It was their big night too. Many of the girls flashed grateful smiles at her and made friendly overtures.

For a few moments the young men and women separated to chat.

"Where did you get that lovely dress?" one of the girls, a pretty Troian called Adelphe, whispered.

"You're brave to wear it. Aren't you cold in it?"

"A little," Jacinta giggled.

"It's so worth it!" said Philomela, one of the other girls. "I don't think anyone else here has been game enough to wear something like that in winter. I think it will be a long time before anyone forgets how you look tonight."

"I wasn't going to come," Jacinta admitted, shyly gesturing with her glove.

"I never thought of you feeling that way, Jacinta. Everyone knows what happened."

"You're our hero too, not just amongst the boys," Philomela said firmly. "Don't look, but you are making a sensation, you're getting glances from all over."

"I only want Akhilleus to notice me tonight," Jacinta said, blushing furiously and looking down.

"Well, you've got that!" Adelphe assured her. "Don't look up, but he's watching you right now and he can't stop grinning."

Across the room Jacinta could hear a familiar voice. "I'm surprised to hear she's coming. She looks like a horse and is always building her muscles. You know she is a lover of women, that's why she wants to look like a boy. I wonder what she wore."

"Aphrodisia!" Adelphe hissed. "She has been on and on about you. She and that girl friend of hers."

It hadn't occurred to Jacinta that she had so many allies amongst the young Troian women. She remembered how her mother said these catty games had stung her so much when she was young. She decided she could ignore whatever Aphrodisia said.

"Let her say what she likes," she laughed.

"You need to say hello, to show you're not afraid of her," Philomela advised.

Jacinta realised women fight battles too, but with different weapons. It would be better if she didn't do this on her own. "Will you come with me?"

"Our pleasure."

Later, Jacinta was told she moved with the grace of a princess and a warrior to meet Aphrodisia and Syntyche, trailed by a small phalanx of supporters.

"Hello, Aphrodisia; hello Syntyche. I heard you asking what dress I would wear. Do you like it?"

Aphrodisia looked at her in shock, searching for something nasty to say.

"Aren't you thinly dressed?" she managed.

"While you too are bundled up like old women," Philomela observed tartly. "Jacinta is pretty enough to wear something nice. At least what you're wearing doesn't show your fat."

"That's a lot of muscle you're carrying," Syntyche added with a nasty tone.

"Jacinta looks great and she may as well show off what she has," Adelphe countered. "You're jealous."

"Why should I be?" Syntyche hissed angrily.

"Perhaps because I didn't accept you two for training?" Jacinta answered, with a sweet smile.

Everyone looked at the pair in shock. Had they applied to Jacinta to be trained? And she hadn't accepted them. That would explain the campaign they had launched against her.

"If you'll excuse us." Jacinta smiled. "Have a wonderful evening. I'm sorry you didn't follow my advice and stop telling lies."

"Let's get the boys up dancing before they drink too much," she muttered to her new friends as they marched back.

Suddenly she felt wonderful.

"Jacinta, I haven't had time to learn dancing," Akhilleus confessed shamefacedly when she re-joined him.

"Akhilleus, I don't care. Come out on the balcony and I'll teach you."

"Won't you be cold?"

"Not with your arms around me I won't."

As they stepped onto the balcony, Jacinta melted in his arms and put her head on his chest. Gentle music drifted from inside. Most of the dances would be traditional rowdy Greek dances where everyone formed a circle but this was a slow, close dance for couples only.

She looked up at his face and they kissed, it seemed for a long time. Unfortunately she began to shiver.

"I'll have to get you inside," Akhilleus insisted. "This dress isn't warm enough."

"It's worth it, don't you think?"

"I feel like I have won a prize, Jacinta. Thank you for coming and thank you for wearing that dress; all my friends are envious."

Jacinta melted into his arms to kiss him again. "It feels so good to have you proud of me. I-I c-can stay out here if you w-want, r-really."

Damn it, after the encounter with the daimôn she could no longer tolerate the cold.

Akhilleus just smiled at her and led her very firmly back into the warmth.

* * *

Jacinta felt as if she was floating in the air as she rode back with Akhilleus. She felt completely pampered. The use of a carriage was an outrageous extravagance. With some difficulty she had kept her opinion to herself.

Akhilleus had been attentive and considerate all night. All his friends had more to drink, some drank enough to spoil the end of the night for their escorts, but Seléne had organised chaperones to make sure all the girls got away without incident. Akhilleus just seemed content to share her company.

Jacinta sat back, resting in his arms as they rode home.

"Jacinta, is there any chance for me and you?" Akhilleus asked pensively.

Jacinta was curled up in his arms gazing up into his face. Her hand had reached up to gently touch his beard and he had begun to massage her shoulder.

"What do you mean?" she murmured.

"You know, a friendship, getting married," Akhilleus said.

Jacinta sat bolt upright. "Akhilleus! I'm not yet fourteen!" She laughed a little in surprise.

"So the idea of getting married to me is funny?" Akhilleus asked, his voice a little dangerous.

Jacinta tried unsuccessfully to suppress her laughter. "I'm sorry; you surprised me is all."

"I'm not asking you to marry me now." He blushed deeply in the pale light cast by the moon. "I just want to know if it was possible, I mean in the future, if we fell in love, of course. I know you wanted to be a paladin but now you have been hurt you must have thought of other plans for yourself."

It was exactly what she had thought. She looked at her hand.

"I've learnt a lesson. I cannot give up on life just because of my hand."

"Marrying me wouldn't be giving up on life, Jacinta."

Damn! This was not going where she had hoped.

She had been looking forward to the last few moments together. It was just too hard to think of her future at the moment. It was true, she didn't know if she would ever be free to marry. If she was someone else, it would be an easy question. But for the moment all she wanted was to enjoy one night!

"Akhilleus, this is our first date. You can't count the time we had with the pirates," Jacinta started, trying to make Akhilleus laugh.

She shouldn't have mentioned it. Akhilleus's look said it all. She had taken charge and killed three men to his one.

"You know what I am, Akhilleus." She started to feel her own anger mounting. "Why is it women who have to make all the sacrifices?"

"I see, getting married to me would be a sacrifice."

Jacinta was thinking of what to say when the carriage stopped.

"Good night, Jacinta," Akhilleus said coldly.

Jacinta opened her mouth. She was overcome with a horrible sinking feeling. She got out sadly and looked up at Akhilleus. "Good night, Akhilleus."

It was all she could think to say.

She turned and walked slowly back up to the entrance to her quarters. Akhilleus watched her go. His friend who was driving the carriage climbed down to face him.

"Why did you say something stupid like that for? That was Jacinta, you fool! She was the best looking girl at the ball and she looked like she was ready to spend half the night saying goodbye to you. And what did you do? I can't believe you."

Akhilleus groaned and slapped his forehead. "Just take me back to the barracks, please. No, let's get rid of this carriage and then I really need a drink."

Meanwhile Jacinta marched in to be greeted by Timo and the other girls excitedly waiting to hear how her night went.

"Have we got any wine?" she asked desperately. "Just don't talk to me about men!"

* * *

"Jacinta!" Eirene scolded. "Just because you had one fight, it doesn't mean it's over, not the way the two of you were looking at each other."

It was two weeks since the ball and they were having what had become a familiar argument: Jacinta versus the rest of the girls all banded together against her.

"Drakon and I are always fighting," Thaïs added.

"I don't know any couple who doesn't fight," Timo said "... except perhaps the Princess and Lord Pericles; Seléne is too sweet."

Her big sister isn't too sweet!

(Though she had been better lately).

"Akhilleus wants to get married," she said despondently. "I don't think I'll ever be free for that."

"He wants to marry you!" Alba looked like she wanted to hit Jacinta over the head. "You're lucky not to have a man who only wants his way with you and nothing else. I say grab him with both hands ... well, you know what I mean," she mumbled, blushing.

"He hasn't contacted me since the ball," Jacinta reminded them.

"Then you go after him!" Thaïs said. "Don't give up so easily."

"I can't be what he needs." Jacinta looked stubborn. "He's better off without me. It will only end up hurting both of us."

"Tell me you don't love him!" Thaïs challenged her.

Jacinta shook her head, her eyes tearing. "I just don't want to talk about it anymore."

Thaïs waited a while and finally stormed off in disgust.

The others hesitated and eventually followed.

* * *

Elves, unlike most humans, celebrated children's birthdays till their coming of age at eighteen. Jacinta only knew she was born in late winter. Elena had decided very early on that her birthday must be celebrated and thirty days after the winter solstice became the appointed day.

For her fourteenth birthday both her parents were away but Elena gave her a beautiful new saddle for Sheera with pretty dyed stitching, and she already had the book of poetry from her father. Seléne gave her a jar of expensive scented oil with detailed instructions on how to use it to best effect to attract boys. Drakon and the other elves had pooled their money to buy her an exquisitely made elvish belt-knife and sheath, and her girls cooked for her. It was a lovely day.

 

 

Chapter 12: A Dead Hand, and Io

Pericles had some ideas for further peltastae training of Jacinta's Amazónes so he went with Seléne in search of her. They found her sitting in her favourite library room with her glove off, staring gloomily at her crippled hand.

"I was willing it to move," she admitted. "I keep telling myself to leave it alone but I can't seem to."

"I heard you can break wooden planks with it," Pericles said, trying to be encouraging.

Jacinta snorted. "Yep, if you need any kindling, just send for me. I'm your kindling girl!

"People envy me. Like killing those pirates and that daimôn, they talk as if it was some sort of great adventure. Don't they know how desperate I was?

"And look what happened." She held up her hand and looked at it with disgust. "And all they say now is I have a special hand that can do wonderful things."

She had been careful not to tell anyone what Ba'al had said about her hand. She should have suspected. It still sparkled faintly in the dark and that showed no signs of fading. She had been told that the anti-daimôn spell looked like a flood of darkness with sparkling lights all through it.

If you are as half as smart as you are supposed to be, Jacinta, you really would have worked it out.

It has some advantages but still ...

"I just wish I could move it." She sighed.

"It's dead," Pericles said, nodding sympathetically.

Jacinta's head jerked up, startled. "What did you just say?"

Pericles looked with concern at his young friend.

"Jacinta, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I just meant you don't have use of your hand."

"But what did you say, Pericles?" Jacinta demanded, looking at him intently.

"I said it was dead, but …"

"That's it! It was in front of me all the time! It's dead!" Jacinta jumped up excitedly. "Why couldn't I have seen it before?"

Seléne was alarmed at her young friend's change of mood. She was suddenly happy about something, but what? That her hand was dead?

Pericles, instead, stared at Jacinta in horror.

"Jacinta, don't you even think of that!"

"Why, Pericles, I don't for the life of me know what you are talking about." Jacinta tried to look innocent.

Pericles was shot by an arrow in the Athenian assault on Troia. Hakeem and Elena only barely made it in time to save his life. He was weak and tired for a long time after and Seléne nursed him. That was how they fell in love.

To help him recover (so he could help Seléne rescue Jacinta and Elena at the ruins of elvish Troia) Sophie/ Maerwen showed him how to access his life source.

In the fighting at the base of the ruins Pericles got killed, really killed this time, but he hadn't crossed over. He begged Maerwen to return him to the source of his life source before the final tie to this life was severed. It gave Jacinta something to work on, so she could save him. It meant that Pericles was the only man who had ever come back from the dead.

Jacinta gave him a sweet smile. "Oh that! Of course I wasn't thinking of that, Pericles. Sophie would never help me, so that's the end of it. Now if you will excuse me, I have some work to do."

She hurried off, all the despondency about her crippled hand forgotten.

"What was that all about?" Seléne asked as Jacinta hurried away.

"Believe me, you don't want to know." Pericles shook his head. "I think Jacinta thought of accessing her life force to heal her hand. At least she can't do that without Sophie."

"If you think that, you don't know my friend, Pericles." Seléne stared after her. "You don't know her like I do."

* * *

Io

"Good morning, my Lady," Io said as she struggled in with a large pitcher of water.

"Good morning, Io, I'm glad to see you feeling better, but be careful not to overdo it. It takes time to recover from a miscarriage gone bad." Elena laughed, colouring a little. "Believe me, I should know."

"Remember I told you about how Tycho was so cruel when I told him I was carrying his baby," Io replied, a little breathlessly. "He just laughed at me. He said I was a slut and it served me right. It was so awful. I adored him and I thought he loved me. I didn't know what to do.

"Well, I knew I would meet him here one day and I was terrified of it. He could spoil my name or get me thrown out of the palace."

"You are under my protection, Io," Elena reminded her firmly, picking up a parchment to read.

Io looked at Elena in excitement. "Well, it happened late yesterday. I turned a corner and he almost ran into me. We were face to face. And you know what?"

"What, Io?" Elena seemed distracted, reading.

"I have never seen anyone so terrified in my life! He fell over himself trying to get away from me. The other maids tell me he seems terrified of being close to women now and he jumps ten feet in the air if any surprise him.

"He's drinking a lot now and has stopped preying on young girls. I don't understand it. It's not as if I or any of the other girls could do anything to him."

"Well, that is strange," Elena said blandly. "You can leave the water over there."

Io stared at Elena, disbelieving. She felt deeply hurt.

The Queen had seemed to be so kind, and interested in her problems, she expected her to be flabbergasted. She shook herself mentally. She had no right to expect the Elvish Queen to be interested in the affairs of a silly girl who allowed herself to get pregnant.

Her face went crimson with shame. Now she looked at the Elf Queen whose face looked alien, unreadable, distant as she looked at the parchment. Elena saw her staring and gave her a gentle smile; her green eyes seemed to shine, penetrating in their gaze.

"You are under my protection, Io," the Queen repeated.

It hit Io like a blow.

She remembering the look of terror in Tycho's eyes and shuddered.

"You didn't … you couldn't … you wouldn't?"

"My dear girl," Elena said laughing as she moved over to take Io in her arms. "You are making no sense at all. I haven't the slightest idea what you are talking about. Now look, you have forgotten my towel and soap which is not like you at all. You'll have to hurry; we have a lot to do today. Well, it seems like you don't have to worry about that awful man ... what was his name again?"

"Tycho," Io said automatically, looking at Elena levelly.

Then she relaxed and gave the Queen a look of intense love. Of course, the great Elf Queen would know nothing about such things!

She hurried as fast as she could to fetch the towel and soap … and perfumed oil. Had the Queen forgotten her oil? Io knew she hadn't. Elena, the great Queen of the Western Elves never forgot small details like that.

Io felt like skipping and suddenly her heart felt light.

* * *

Jacinta's bodyguard was used to her evening routine. She would be left free till the morning.

It was more than a moon since she had first decided to try to find the source of her life force. She was meditating both morning and the evenings now, using the deep mediation techniques Daniel had taught her. It was wonderful. In the mornings she finished refreshed and eager to start each day and at night she had an undisturbed till the morning.

In truth she was no longer as worried about her hand and her future now. She found the work of training the Amazónes fulfilling. Her left hand had proven to have several interesting abilities and she had the strange bow Lykos had invented. She was starting to accept that she couldn't grip with her hand or carry a useful shield.

Would she feel the same when her girls were ready to apply their skills? Probably not, but for the moment she had gained acceptance. Why did she keep searching inside herself for the stairs Pericles described ?

She didn't know. Was it habit?

When she first accessed them, she made no attempt to move up or down at first. She simply remained sitting in her meditation pose, contemplating. It was awe inspiring to see them.

They were broad, like the main stairway in a massive palace, white and shiny like fine marble and seemed to stretch upwards and downwards forever. They felt neither hot nor cold nor did they have any texture. People feel so frail and so limited, yet this vast dimension was only part of what was inside everyone. It was, of course, an illusion, but then the whole current plane of existence she was in was an illusion.

She wondered what she would see if she travelled upwards, but she knew that was impossible at her present level of existence.

Many things could be done from here, she knew. This region contained not only her life force but her connection with time, her connection with other souls and even her connection with the deeper 'reality' itself.

Pericles was right. This was not a place she should meddle in.

What was it that Pericles had said? Three steps down and then to the right. She stood up effortlessly and started to move, slowly at first, just one step at a time savouring the experience. Pericles said he had to push against some great force to descend but there was none of that for her.

To either side there were many shapes but she could not see them properly. They seemed to disappear as soon as she tried to stare at them directly.

There was the fountain! It was different to what Pericles described. It was so beautiful, made of the same marble-like material as the stairs. She took off her glove, ready to place her hand in the pool.

Then she paused...

Her hand was contaminated by daimôn substance and two massively powerful spells.

Maybe, just maybe, sticking your hand into your life substance might not be a clever idea, Jacinta.

Now what? In the centre of the fountain was a statue out of which the life force poured into a bowl. She tried to study it but couldn't see the features on it. She tried leaning forward and tried to study it out of the corner of her eye. No matter what she did, it kept slipping out of focus. The problem must be in her mind or whatever she was using to see things in this place.

"JACINTA!" Sophie appeared before her and she was screaming in horror. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, hello, Sophie." Jacinta was not particularly surprised at her friend appearing in front of her. "I miss you, you know."

"LEAVE HERE!" Sophie screamed.

Then she started to cry. "Please, Jacinta; you sound so strange. It was me that let you go into those catacombs. The man I loved and my dear, dear, friends and I couldn't even warn you. My family said I was evil and I began to believe it. Then you lived and I was overjoyed, but you were hurt so badly. I thought I would never forgive myself. Yet you understood, you forgave me and you loved me.

"Please don't do this! You can't begin to comprehend what you are doing. It could destroy your soul as if you had never been born."

Jacinta kissed her little friend on the forehead. "I never blamed you, Sophie, and I don't now. But I have a task, and for that I need both hands."

"What are you fools doing? Get away from here!" An indignant voice shouted. "I command you!"

Now that is interesting! Maerwen, in the same place and time as Sophie.

Although maybe space and time does not apply here.

Maerwen was in no mood for explanations. She had planted herself firmly between Jacinta and the fountain and Jacinta couldn't remember seeing anyone so furious. She muttered something and Sophie disappeared. Jacinta was left holding air, or whatever passed for air in this place.

"You haven't hurt her, have you?" she asked.

Maerwen snorted in disgust. "The bond I have with Sophie is stronger than mortal love. Now leave here you foolish, foolish, girl."

Jacinta shook her head. "I'm sorry, Maerwen, I really am. Please stand aside."

"Don't think you can oppose me!" Maerwen drew herself up. "You have no idea what I can do."

"It won't work." Jacinta gave her a serene smile. "This is my realm."

She easily pushed Maerwen aside and bent over and drank deeply.

Maerwen screamed in terror and … nothing happened!

"You fool! You're lucky it didn't work. I've called for Silver. Wait here."

Jacinta slumped down defeated. She sat there, staring gloomily at her dead hand.

The life force was not getting into it.

The life force was not getting into it.

The life force was not getting into it!!

She stared at her hand until it disappeared from her vision. She imagined tiny channels to carry her life force into it. Her vision seemed to look deep into the hand and see the tiny channels. Maerwen screamed something.

Then the universe exploded.

* * *

Jacinta

Her left hand felt like she had plunged it into molten rock.

She was curled over in agony. She couldn't move. She opened her mouth to scream but no sound came out. She felt herself, whoever she was, slipping away.

"I can't tell you just how angry I am with you, Jacinta!" A voice was sounded loudly in her mind, jerking her back to herself.

It was Silver.

Jacinta was lying face down on something she couldn't see or feel. She tried to look up, but couldn't raise her head for the pain. All she could see was two pairs of sandalled feet.

Sandalled feet can look furious. She hadn't realised that.

"We brought you here to stop you from destroying yourself," came Maerwen's disgusted thought. "If we didn't need you, we would not have bothered. You are so unworthy! We are bearing as much of your pain as we can. Otherwise it will destroy you."

Jacinta grinned; it probably looked more like a grimace. She couldn't look up, she was having a great deal of trouble thinking, let alone projecting her thoughts.

"Give ... back ... pain."

"And that is where we can't. We have to stay here with you, just to prevent you from being destroyed. Well done! You have effectively neutralised all three of us, for how long we don't know."

"It felt like everything exploded," Jacinta murmured weakly.

"It very nearly did," Maerwen spat angrily. "It most certainly would have if you had carried out your first plan and stuck your hand in there. I can't even begin to tell you how angry I am. You almost destroyed yourself, and not just your mortal life. Did you think what effect that would have on all who are linked with you? Did you even care? And just because you wanted to defy your fate. How many others are sick or crippled? There are forces within you that are not there for your entertainment, my young paladin."

Jacinta struggled ... and couldn't move.

"You think you are in pain now, do you?" Maerwen asked. "We are bearing most of it and I can tell you it is not pleasant."

Silver spoke more kindly. "You tried to mix the substance of the daimôn plane with what was keeping you on the earthly plane. Daimôns are mostly energy; we of the earth plane have more of a substance which you wouldn't understand. Also you are carrying two extremely powerful spells."

Jacinta tried to say something and lost concentration. Then she managed to clutch at the thought with mentally gritted teeth.

"Sorry."

Maerwen and Silver didn't bother to reply but their sandalled feet emitted waves of contempt.

"Leave Jacinta alone, Maerwen," came a strong male voice "Even you cannot see all ends."

"Yes, Lord." In a moment that was shocking to Jacinta, she felt them both, Silver and Maerwen, bow to the newcomer.

"Now leave us. You claim to have more important things to attend to rather than looking after the one who has been chosen."

Jacinta could hear the note of amusement in his voice. Or at least it seemed to be a 'him'.

She was able to move more freely but still couldn't see his face. She felt deeply ashamed. She didn't want to seem so selfish. She didn't want her friends to be angry with her.

"Give them time. You frightened them. Worse than you can imagine. You scared me, more than I can ever recall, and that is no small feat because I had thought I had left those feelings far behind."

"Are you a God?"

"A God, do you think?" The being laughed. "Don't you recognise me? "

She tried to place the sense of his presence ... and then she realised.

"Yes, Jacinta, you are clever! You can't imagine how proud I am of you. Some of you mortals call us 'guardians'. 'Guides' would be a better term, because we don't guard people from all pain. I can take the greater share of the pain for you. Don't worry, it isn't bad for me and bearing pain makes me stronger. I will leave you with enough pain, as a reminder."

"I have done something terrible."

"Perhaps," the spirit guide said.

You aren't much into reassurance, are you?

"Don't try anything like this again."

I think I understand that.

"The pain you feel now, you are causing yourself." She sensed him smile. "You're in too much of a hurry, as you always are, Jacinta."

Of course! She was trying to force her life essence into her dead hand. At the moment there were no channels through which it could flow. She should take it more slowly. She relaxed the pressure and the pain started to fade.

She also realised she didn't need to visit the fountain anymore to access her life force, she had established a connection.

"When you wake, you will be in great pain, I won't take it all."

I'll bet you won't.

"Sometimes it is not where the journey leads, it's the journey itself."

With that completely incomprehensible remark he was gone.

* * *

Jacinta heard someone screaming and then she realised her mouth was open and her lungs straining. She was curled up in terrible agony, clutching at her hand. Her mother and Seléne were holding her and there were others in the room.

"Just a bad dream," she called out weakly.

Then the agony hit her again. This was far worse than the time she fought the daimôn and it was unbearable then. She grabbed at a nearby blanket to bite. She was panting and sweating and feeling dizzy.

She deliberately fed a little more of her life force into her hand.

"YEOW!" she cried, muffled by the blanket.

She was getting better control of it now.

Her mother was saying something which Jacinta couldn't understand, then she felt herself being lifted onto the bed. She snatched weakly at the glove and then felt someone helping her to take it off.

Elena's face swam into view. She looked anguished. She was crying, and her mouth moving.

Jacinta lay back, panting. "Nothing," she said.

"Nothing … worry." She tried again. "Not to … nothing, worry, about!"

She looked at her hand. No change in colour. Was she able to move her fingers a little or was she imagining it?

She had better not feed any more life force into her hand or she would pass out completely.

Well ... perhaps just a little more.

Her hand felt as if it was being consumed by fire! She held her left hand firmly at the wrist and lifted it up to show them. She willed them all to look.

Three fingers flexed ever so slightly.

* * *

Moments before

An inhuman scream echoed through the palace. Someone was dying. It was Jacinta!

Elena had been asleep. She rolled off the bed into a crouch, and was already running as she hit the floor.

"Don't, my Lady," her human guard rushed into the room to try to catch her as she made to pass him. His hands closed on thin air and he spun to see the back of an elf bearing down the corridor, running like the North Wind.

When she reached a turn in the corridor, she didn't even slow. She leapt and ran lightly along the wall for several paces before dropping to the floor again. She was drawing her knife as she ran.

She arrived at Jacinta's room and almost knocked Timo and Eirene over as she burst in.

She turned with fury to Jacinta's guard as if she might stab him, but he was looking alert and business-like. He was holding a pitch-torch from one of the sconces in one hand and a drawn sword in the other.

"My Queen, the Lady Jacinta had retired early as she often does and asked that she not be disturbed," he started. "I waited in my normal station along the corridor. I heard nothing before the scream. When I entered, Lady Jacinta was still screaming. She was alone with no mark on her, she lives, but until help arrived, I didn't try to turn or touch her.

"She was muttering something about her hand. I have checked the room and my vigilance has not flagged, nothing short of magic has entered here." He drew himself up and stared directly at the Queen. "I would stake my life on it."

Elena softened. "That is not necessary, er… Kallistos, isn't it? No one doubts your vigilance. Please remain in charge of security here until someone more senior comes. I will attend to my daughter."

She rushed to Jacinta's side and quickly started to examine her, Eirene hovering nervously nearby. Just then Seléne and Pericles arrived. Seléne dropped down on the other side of Jacinta so that the two sisters could cradle her head between them.

Pericles walked stiffly closer and dropped to his knees.

"Oh, Jacinta." His was face stricken. "What have you done?"

Elena looked sharply at him but Jacinta was beginning to stir. She was moaning and mumbling. She seemed to smile ... and then she let out another terrifying scream.

Was she possessed?

They helped her to the bed and she grabbed at the corner of a blanket which she bit and gave a muffled scream. She was pulling weakly at the glove and Seléne yanked it off for her. Her hand looked the same. Jacinta mumbled something and then Elena heard her say, "Bad dream … nothing to … worry," very clearly.

She held her injured hand up, holding it steady with the other hand. She seemed to want them to see something. Did one of the fingers move slightly? She opened her eyes and seemed to be able to focus on them and then, incredibly … she grinned!

Elena bursting out crying.

Jacinta was panting, pale under her tan and bathed with sweat, but her body felt like ice. Her eyes lost focus again and she began to tremble violently as if from a fever. "C-cold! Mother I'm so c-cold!"

Elena yelled desperately for one of the people to bring more blankets and to stoke the fire. When she looked back into the face of her daughter, she was definitely grinning, albeit weakly.

She held up her hand again, her fingers flexed a little at the tips. It was definite this time.

Jacinta smiled, a contented smile, and fell instantly asleep.

* * *

The Queen’s Assassin

Laomedon looked thoroughly unremarkable, if a little dishevelled. He was a scrawny-looking weasel of a man with a ragged beard, the sort you would pass in the street without a second glance and yet his relationship with Olympias was responsible for more deaths than Antipatros could imagine, most of which were 'accidents'.

This was the first time Antipatros had met him, and he took an instant dislike to the man. It was worse when he heard what Olympias wanted him to do.

"This is the most difficult task that you have given me," the assassin warned her. "She is well guarded and has already proven very difficult to kill."

"But you can do it?" Olympias insisted.

He considered. "It will take a small army to be sure of it, but I can arrange that. There is a man I know who does work 'finding' slaves. His men are scum, but he has plenty of them and not only are they loyal to him, he has ways of guaranteeing their loyalty."

"There must be nothing that will link us with this."

Olympias reached to pat one of Antipatros's hands which he was holding rigid with tension.

"They will be Makedónians but pirates and thieves ; you cannot be free of suspicion, my Queen, but there will be many suspects. I will need thirty silver talanton," Laomedon continued.

"What?" Antipatros started to protest but immediately subsided with pressure from Olympias's hand. He sat there fuming.

"Your price is high," she observed dryly. "Can you guarantee results?"

"As always." Laomedon smiled. " Nothing will be left to chance."

After he was gone, Olympias turned to Antipatros.

"That was not as expensive as it seemed for what we asked of him. We have to find a way of weakening Hakeem and the best way is to destroy his family."

Antipatros looked troubled. "Your son will not like this."

"Just my son, now is it?" She laughed. "It is true that Aléxandros sometimes gets annoyed with his poor mother and her methods, but he always likes the results."

She gave him a secret smile. "After all, my love, whose money do you think I'm spending?"

 

 

Chapter 13: A Hostage, and Elif

Entering Anatolē

The great drought and fighting had made the Bosimi weak, and their enemies strong.

It was hardest on the small tribes, and they were a small tribe. Eventually they had to travel to kneel in the dust before the great Mòdú Chányú and ask his protection. It meant much loss of face and it had cost them more than they could afford.

And they found Gansükh there, sitting in a place of honour by the side of the Mòdú.

Gansükh had once had been one of theirs, but he had gone missing and when he returned he was possessed with much dark magic. Within days, their own samān, and his student Edz, Dengizich's youngest son, were dead, seemingly killed by some unknown creature. They had feared Gansükh, and yet they had cast him out.

It must have amused Gansükh to send them to far Anatolē to kill the young ṧamánka, Jacinta, and her mother, the Elf Queen. Gansükh's enemies would be lessened no matter who won or lost. And they had lost, and they had lost badly.

The women of the tribe had screamed when Dengizich told them that they must make a long journey into the land which had already been soaked with so much Bosimi blood.

They kept making noise until Dengizich had to demand they keep their peace. It was unsettling to have to demand silence from the women. It was a sign of how low the Bosimi had sunk.

After all, what choice did he have?

They had failed and the Chányú would kill or enslave them.

So Dengizich, the old man, led the sad remnants of the tribe: men, women and children, all gaunt and hungry with the last of their horses and just a handful of sheep – into the land of those who had been their enemies.

It seemed impossible to believe that they would receive welcome there. If they did not, it would be too late for them. For ill or good, the tribe could travel no further. Even if they could defend themselves, which they could not, they had run out of food.

Some of the weaker children could no longer walk even at this slow pace. If they killed the last of their sheep, how could there be any hope for them? But how could he feed his people otherwise?

Perhaps he had brought them all this way to die.

They had been led by elves, strange and alien men and then by three Shantawi warriors, grim, well-armed and alert but keeping their own counsel. Their leader, Avda, spoke halting Hunnic which was impressive enough.

Always in the distance there was a larger force of Shantawi, a hundred or so. Dengizich didn't know whether he should be pleased or insulted by the small number that were sent to guard them. When he asked, he was told it was for their protection, but how could he trust a man he had never met, whose wife and daughter he had tried to kill?

If it wasn't for the Queen and for her daughter Jacinta, he would never have agreed to come. It was Jacinta who had healed him and had asked that there be peace between her family and the tribe that had come to kill her. It was Jacinta and her mother who had called his people here.

And now they had finally reached the heart of Anatolē.

For a time there had been long stretches of grassland interspersed by farms wherever there was water. There, Dengizich saw many crops like barley, wheat, flax (linen), opium poppies, sugar beet, olives and fruit trees.

Then it had become drier. The farms and villages became fewer and were fortified. At first he saw sheep herds and the local goats – called angora – known for their fine fleece.

Finally, they had reached this land near where they were to live.

It was deserted. Any farms had been long abandoned, their defensive walls broken, some had been burnt. There were no sheep or goats on the hills. The only travellers they saw were moving at a distance, warily and in large groups.

His experienced eye saw that it could be a good land for his people, not as dry as he was used to but they could run herds here, if they ever had herds to run.

But something had killed the people who were once here. How would they survive in such a dangerous place? So as they moved through the land they were told would be their new home, the people of the tribe were greatly burdened and it was not just by hunger and illness.

They were burdened by hopelessness. What cause, after all, did they have to hope?

They were burdened by grief. Never in any memory had there been such loss, on top of what starvation, war and disease had already done to their tribe.

There were too many fine men who would never ride or walk amongst them again, there were too many women who had no husband and too many children who had no father. The women, when they heard of their losses, had wailed long and loudly. They had rent their clothes and put ash in their hair. It was hard for their warriors to hear so much grief from the women, but it was only proper. The men and older boys had scars on their cheeks and arms, and that was also only proper too. A real man shows such grief with his blood, never with his tears.

And they were burdened by shame. They were shamed by the weakness that had forced them to bow down to the Mòdú and the Black Šamán and now to go like dogs begging to their enemies.

Behind Dengizich rode two old men; there was a time when they would never be considered warriors. On the flanks were several dozen men, all they had left of their warriors and all they had left of their once proud tribe.

Following were women and the children in great numbers, but how can a tribe of only women and children survive? As their leader, he pretended not to see the terrible toll hunger and the journey had taken on them.

Riding beside him were his two remaining grandsons, cousins to each other. Arslan, the eldest, was sixteen summers and armed like a man and Erdogan was just twelve. Both were sullen and angry, but that was only to be expected too.

He had not seen the Shantawi send any rider or make any signal, but as they crested a hill there was a wagon drawn by four horses waiting in the next valley. It was loaded high with bags of wheat flour, bread, dried fruit and many other supplies. A nearby Shantawi held a spare horse for the driver.

Dengizich looked at his Shantawi guide.

"What is this?" he asked, insulted.

His guide shrugged. The driver of the wagon heard him and he must have understood some Hunnic. He mounted the spare horse and bowed from the saddle.

"My Lord, this is a gift from our Warlord ."

"We are not hungry," Dengizich said coldly. "We have eaten."

The Shantawi man shrugged. "It is a gift …"

Now that was awkward.

If it was a gift, it would be an insult to return it. Dengizich was naturally wary of food supplied by an enemy, but was there any point now in caution?

"Perhaps our women and children can eat a little," he conceded. "Convey our thanks to your Warlord. He is generous."

Not long after eating they resumed the trek, taking the cart with them. After a short period, Avda, the Shantawi leader of the three guides, bowed. He said the journey was almost over and those who waited ahead would guide them now. Avda managed a time honoured blessing in Hunnic and then he and his men were gone.

In the distance, Dengizich could see several men resting in the shade.

Dengizich's eyes were not as they once were; only as he came closer could he see that it was their own men, those who had previously been too injured to make the journey. They were dressed strangely but they all looked healthy and cheerful. They were well-armed and had horses nearby. Already they would swell his strength greatly.

He relaxed a little; if this were a trap, it made little sense.

Then something happened that banished any possible doubt he might have had.

A small figure stood up and detached itself from the waiting men.

The young girl walked to stand and wait for him, alone. She was unarmed, not even a small belt-knife. She wore a simple woollen shift and sandals, her legs were bare. She had made herself utterly defenceless.

She approached to kiss the ground in front of his horse. "Uncle! Let you be welcome to this land, which will be yours if you allow. I thought you would feel safer to have a hostage." Jacinta was smiling. "We also arranged the return of your men before you ride to the meeting place."

Dengizich felt such a powerful surge of love for this dear, dear girl that it brought moisture to his eyes. "Jacinta, Granddaughter, you would put your life in the hands of a tribe that once came to kill you?"

"Grandfather," Jacinta replied, using the intimate honorific than 'Uncle'. She smiled her friendly smile again and stood tall and proud as she looked him in the eye. "I put my life safely in the hands of friends whom I trust and honour. But you must feel caution in this strange place. I pledge my life that you can trust those you go now to meet."

Dengizich gave her a rueful smile. That was exactly how he was feeling.

He loved this girl so much!

"Does your father know?" he asked.

"I told him I was impatient to meet my new friends. He knows you are a man of honour, I told him you were."

"Your father trusts you greatly," Dengizich smiled. "Come with us then, but as our guest, not as our hostage."

It was a politer term.

"I brought no horse for myself." (So the hostage could not run away.) "I will walk behind with the rest of the women."

"Ride with your grandfather, then, little ṧamánka," Dengizich offered with a broad smile.

Jacinta (the only daughter of the Warlord ), by offering herself as a hostage, treated him as the head of a powerful tribe. There was no loss of face. And he had a hostage, but he knew he needed none.

Jacinta took his hand and leapt up lithely, to sit in front of him. Throwing her bare legs over the horse she leaned back into him comfortably. Many of his men already knew her but he introduced her to the older men and his two grandsons who had gathered around curiously.

"Arslan and Erdogan, do you come here to fight with us?" she asked politely. "If you do, you are most welcome."

The two boys beamed back at her.

It was exactly the right thing to say!

Dengizich chuckled to himself. This female šamán (ṧamánka) had great power to heal the sick but she had other subtle magics. She could heal the soul and make her enemies into loyal friends.

"They say you fought a daimôn, that can't be true!" Erdogan piped up.

Jacinta laughed. "Don't believe all you hear about me. If you are as brave as your grandfather here, I suspect it won't be long before you will be doing even greater deeds. I had a magical item that did the real work. Do you want to see what the daimôn did to my hand? If your grandfather will pass me across I will show both of you. I'm your hostage, too, you know!"

Both the boys coloured; Arslan couldn't stop himself grinning. When he thought he wasn't being observed, he had difficulty taking his eyes of Jacinta who was now riding behind his youngest brother. She was very attractive and the short dress as she sat the horse didn't do her looks any harm.

All the nearby men were impressed with the appearance of her hand that she held out for their inspection. Her hand looked black, dead, but Jacinta was getting some use back into it which she was intensely proud of.

She showed how she could open and close it with almost painful slowness, but she said its grip was very strong, and she could already hold a bow and a shield.

"It has faint sparkles in the dark," Jacinta explained to the boys. She screwed up her nose at it. "I think it's ugly … but I'm getting used to it."

The boys didn't think it was ugly. They thought it would be absolutely marvellous to have a hand like that!

Dengizich knew it must have been a torment to be bathed in daimôn fire then to be attacked by a killing spell. Jacinta made light of it, but no one was fooled. She was modest, as was only proper, even in one so young. It was the mark of a warrior.

Meanwhile the other men were being welcomed back into the tribe. Dengizich could even hear the sound of laughter and excitement, which he had not heard for a long time. He smiled at the girl he now thought of as his own granddaughter. After their great defeat, Jacinta was bringing healing to his people.

Soon the three children were chatting away as if they had been friends for life. His two grandsons had promised to teach her how to shoot a bow from a galloping horse. Jacinta was listening with rapt attention. Soon, he knew there would be two others who would be prepared to give their lives for Jacinta, as so many of his people already would.

She would need that … and more.

"Jacinta," he called out as they rode closer to their destination. "I see a great feast prepared."

Erdogan nudged his horse closer.

"Yes, Unc ... er, Grandfather," Jacinta said carefully. "We had word that you were near. Though I hear none of you are hungry." She looked at both of the boys with a completely straight face. "We would be disappointed if you could not eat, just a little perhaps."

Dengizich laughed at that. "But what are all those sheep and goats nearby? Do they belong to the people that live here?"

"Yes, they do, Grandfather," Jacinta said. "Those herds are yours, if you will have them. You are to lead the remnants of local tribes that once lived here. You will be our right arm and that arm must be strong." She paused. "Sorry we can give you so few horses."

Dengizich felt his eyes going moist again, but he was allowed that, he was an old man. His new friends and allies were generous. It was far too much for charity, so it was a compliment. A sign they were valued.

He felt a chill when she mentioned the other tribes who had once lived here.

Was he right to join these new friends? His heart shouted, yes!

His head only wished his people were stronger.

He glanced around this beautiful dry land and imagined it filled with the Chányú's hordes. It would be the death of them all, his tribe and his new friends. Well, he thought, if this was to be their fate, it must be accepted; the honourable path was clear.

Naturally, none of this showed on his face.

"Who is that strange child, heavy set and with what looks like a beard," he asked Jacinta as they got closer.

Jacinta laughed in delight. "That is our greatest surprise for you, Grandfather, but I judge you are better forewarned. Please don't call Prince Fraener a child. He is many thousands of years old."

"A dwarf!" Dengizich gasped in astonishment.

"Not just any dwarf but their leader. You may have heard elves can be difficult, but they are nothing compared to dwarves. Please do not take any offence at anything he might say. They normally have little enough contact with elves and none with humans. He pays you a great honour to come to greet you personally."

"Am I to guard the dwarves as well as your father's interests?"

"The dwarves hardly need our protection." Jacinta laughed at the idea, and then she became grim. "But there are so few of them, and they only rarely have children. We can ill afford to lose even one. If you gain their trust and they agree to trade with you, they make wondrous things. Not even the elves are their equal."

"Then why do you bring their king to deal with me? I have nothing with which to trade."

"The Prince is offering something that has been never known before," Jacinta said in awe. "The dwarves have their own magic and seers. They are joining the alliance of Human-kind and Elf-kin. Prince Fraener is here to offer you his protection."

"His protection?" Dengizich eyed the dwarf in surprise. "You said they were very few."

Jacinta nodded: far too few. None but the dwarves knew how many.

"Do they have great magic then?"

"They do, but not enough to fight an army," Jacinta admitted. "What they have is much better." Dengizich waited for her to continue. "My father will explain this more to you but this is a very dangerous place. Anyone raiding from the north, the east or the south is likely to go through the centre here. It is why this area has become so weak. Wave after wave of invasion and raiders have worn its people down and scattered their flocks.

"The dwarves are an old race, even older than the elves. They have lived in Kappadokia for a time that is unimaginable to the other races of man. The rock here is soft, one of the reasons they love this place. Where it is dry, they can find water and grow their crops and do their farming but when raiders come they can't be found.

"The dwarves have powerful magic of concealment but they hardly need it. The dwarves have burrowed here from the dawn of time. There are many caves but you will not find the entrances of those they do not wish you to enter. They are too cleverly hidden, or there may just be a rope or ladder which is pulled up when enemies come and they have other concealments beyond our understanding.

"If you do find a way into the dwarf realm you will find a maze of paths, blind ends and traps in the dark and if this is not enough, while the dwarves are poor fighters in the open under the sun, in the darkness in their cramped tunnels they can kill intruders at will.

"You are now our people and we didn't bring you here to die. We will build great stores under the earth and when the hordes finally come, as come they will, they will find no one here. The dwarves will hide you and feed you and show you were to strike our enemies with little risk to yourselves."

Dengizich whistled in appreciation. "That father of yours. Maybe with him, we will all survive."

"If anyone can get us through what is to come, it’s him," Jacinta agreed. "Just promise me one thing, Grandfather – all of you," she said very seriously.

"What's that?"

"When they tell you, act surprised and very impressed. Hakeem and Prince Fraener think they are awful clever; they would be hurt if you are not surprised and impressed."

Dengizich laughed long and hard; it was a long time since he had laughed like that.

"I'll do my best, little Granddaughter, I'll do my best."

* * *

The Shantawi were patrolling but only glimpsed from far away. They would guard the tribe till it had recovered and organised itself and learnt about their new home.

The tribe felt as if they had found their way to heaven after the hell they had been living through for so very long.

Jacinta teased the boys that she was their 'hostage' though it was obvious that the adults thought of her as nothing less than a highly honoured guest. After helping with their chores, she spent the day competing (and losing) to Arslan and Erdogan.

Sheera, Jacinta's horse that had been returned to her, greatly enjoyed these games though her mistress was hopelessly outclassed.

Whether it was racing through the Kappadokian grass, snatching a small flag from the ground, or shooting from a galloping horse, the boys were delighted to find that Jacinta, the famous girl-warrior, was so completely their inferior. Why, Jacinta couldn't even balance, standing on top of the saddle, as her horse cantered in a circle!

To shoot from a galloping horse the rider need to train themselves and their horse to minimise the normal bouncing . Even so, to shoot over any distance with accuracy was near impossible. It required timing the shot with split second accuracy at the top of the arc of whatever movement the horse and rider did make. Only the Hun and the Shantawi knew how to do it and it required almost constant practice.

A rider instinctively learns to 'post' which means rising up and down in rhythm with the horse but only touching the horse relatively lightly to avoid the rider and horse from being jolted.

To try to reduce this bounce requires modifying the gait of the horse. It is even harder on the rider requiring a very strong back, stomach and leg muscles and it was exhausting over any distance.

Jacinta practised lying back onto Sheera's back with her feet in the stirrups , then sitting up and rolling from side to side as the horse cantered, all the time controlling Sheera with knee signals.

She did it till her stomach felt on fire and she could hardly move afterwards.

Hakeem should have showed her this! When, she wasn't sure.

Arslan helped her train Sheera: stop, go, turn right, turn left, speed up and slow down, even walk backwards. Fortunately Sheera loved to learn and had a natural gait (apparently) so she could run like a Hun pony and not tire over long distances.

Both the cousins would be very sorry to see their 'hostage' returned.

Jacinta for her part would have liked to spend a few moons, maybe even a year here, but she was just too busy in Troia. She would somehow have to try to find time to practise what she had been shown.

There was one person who would not be sorry to see her go. Jacinta didn't notice her at first, being too busy. Eventually she realised that whenever she was playing with the boys there was always a lonely figure watching.

Elif was tall and slim. It was the meaning of her name in Hunnic. She was only a shade older than Jacinta. Her parents were dead and she was dressed shabbily. She had the dark Asian complexion, Asian eyes and a flat nose.

She looked on, confused and jealous as Jacinta seemed to take over all of Arslan's attention. Jacinta was not blind. She saw how Elif watched Arslan, her childhood playmate. Was he aware of it? Was she even aware of it?

Jacinta tried to talk with Elif when she had the chance, but Elif was not in a friendly mood. So she asked one of the elves to test Elif for shooting a bow, then she began to draw Elif into their games. One morning as the two cousins were racing she was standing next to Elif watching.

"You know you are competing with him too hard," Jacinta said softly.

"What do you mean?" Elif snapped angrily, scowling at the foreign girl.

"He's a boy, he likes to win. Get him to show you things you can't do well. Sometimes play hard to get," Jacinta said. She seemed to be watching the boys intently.

"I don't think he even knows I'm a girl," Elif said shaking her head, suddenly vulnerable, upset.

Jacinta turned to her with an excited smile. "Do you want to try something?"

Elif looked confused. "Why would you help me?"

"We girls have to stick together!" Jacinta grinned at her and grabbed her by the arm.

When the boys returned, breathless, they had lost their audience. They wandered around for a while, looking lost before Jacinta sprang out from the tent Elif shared with some other girls.

"Ahh, Arslan! Just the person I wanted to find. Once when things are more settled here you'll be able to have some celebrations and festivals again. I've got a new dress for Elif; I want you tell me what you think."

Elif stepped out, looking very pretty, her hair done up and wearing a borrowed Gypsy dress. Arslan looked her up and down. He seemed to be surprised to see Elif in a dress, but he definitely looked impressed. .

"It's all right, I guess."

"You're Elif's friend." Jacinta lowered her voice. "Did you know she's never been kissed? She wants to practise; I'm sure you don't mind, do you? Just do your best." Arslan looked panicked but Jacinta gave him no chance. "Good, now tell me what you think of this?

"Or is this better?"

After the third passionate kiss, Arslan was looking very hot and flushed. Jacinta thanked him in a businesslike manner and sent him away on somewhat unsteady feet. As soon as the boys were out of sight, the girls bent over laughing.

"Jacinta, that's not playing hard to get!" Elif giggled as she changed into more practical clothes. Jacinta would have to do something serious about her new friend's wardrobe, she realised.

"You wait. You have to bait the trap first. He won't think of you as just another one of the boys now. I have just what we need to reel him in. Come to my tent."

"More dresses, Jacinta? I don't think that will work."

"No, Elif, now we have to show an interest in some of the things boys are interested in. I have been preparing a bit of a surprise for you, my young Hun friend. Prepare yourself!" She pulled Elif excitedly to her own tent and pulled the sheet back from the bed.

Elif burst into tears. "Oh, Jacinta! They are perfect! This is too much! They can't be for me!" Laid out on her camp bed was a composite war bow lying on a small leather hide with a thumb ring and a spare bow-string. There were two leather quivers with beautifully fashioned and decorated arrows and a gorytos. Next to it all was a hunting bow with a single quiver for it and its own gorytos.

"I can't take this from you," Elif said in a small voice.

"Sure you can. After all, they were made for you. They are elvish and a bit fancy for my taste but the war bow is serious weapon and , there is no point in just giving you a war bow unless you have something to practise with, so you need a hunting bow as well."

Elif looked at her in shock. Made for me?

"Remember that elf, who had you playing with some bows? I sent him."

Elif looked back at her in awe, tears still in her eyes. "I thought you wanted Arslan for yourself but you wanted to help me; why?"

Jacinta looked at her levelly. "When we can, we will make sure your tribe has good weapons and knows how to use them and I don't mean just the men. I thought it would be a good idea to give you a head start. I'll sleep a lot easier knowing my friend, Elif, has a bow in her hand."

Elif hugged her, crying. "I can't find any way to thank you. All you have done for me and all you have done for my tribe. Is it true we came to kill you?"

Jacinta nodded. "Yes, it is. I'm glad you didn't though."

"So am I, so am I!" Elif laughed again through her tears as she hugged her.

"So do you think Arslan will be more interested in something like this than a pretty dress?" Jacinta asked, grinning.

"I will need lessons if I'm to impress Arslan. Should I ask his grandfather?" Elif looked uncertain.

Jacinta slapped her own forehead. She felt like screaming at her. Instead she took a slow deep breath.

"Elif, who would you like to have teaching you, Arslan or his grandfather? Who do you want to give you attention, Arslan or his grandfather?"

She waited.

Slowly, as if in pantomime, she saw the realisation dawn on Elif.

"Do you know how boys like to compete and be strong?" Jacinta said. "They want to be strong and protect their women. How do you think he will feel if he is teaching the girl he loves how to shoot a bow? It will make him feel ten feet tall.

"Then he will give you lots of attention as he teaches you. As you become good he will be so proud of you. Perhaps Arslan might teach you hunting as well. Remember let him win, let him show you things. Give him admiring and adoring looks. Say nice things. Cook special things he likes," Jacinta said.

Elif had a look of revelation dawning on her face.

She had not had a mother or older sister to tell her these things.

"Now you know I can't give you a horse; there is a shortage," Jacinta explained.

Elif laughed; of course not! A horse, they cost a fortune.

There was a noise outside the tent; Elif cast a suspicious look at Jacinta.

"Do you want to see her?" Jacinta asked, smiling.

Elif walked out as if in a dream. There was the same elf grinning broadly holding the reins of a weanling. "She is yours," Jacinta said unnecessarily.

Elif just hugged and hugged and stroked the filly; tears were running down her cheeks.

"Lord Dengizich has agreed to help you train her but he will get Arslan involved so he can learn about training weanlings too. It's just 'gentling' at first," Jacinta went on, talking like an expert, though Dengizich had only finished explaining it to her.

"Getting her used to the bridle, the blanket and grooming; you are light but won't be able to start riding her for more than six moons. She's a Kappadokian but I'm told she has good lines."

Dengizich came up behind to watch Elif fondling the pony. As Jacinta turned to him, she had tears of happiness in her own eyes. Dengizich pulled her to him and hugged her.

"Are you using your magic to turn enemies into friends again, little granddaughter?" he said with a gentle smile as they watched Elif feeding her pony a slice of apple. "They will make a good match, Arslan and Elif. I despaired of him ever noticing she was growing up. She needed the help of a female friend.

"Unless I miss my guess you have found another of us who would die for you, Jacinta."

He could feel her shudder in his arms. "Please, no, Grandfather. I want you all to live for me. It isn't just me being nice, though; I do like Elif," Jacinta whispered, wiping at her own tears. "I have been given a task. It is to help women who want to defend themselves and those they love. It always seems that innocents suffer more than soldiers in war. I think we will all sleep more soundly if Elif's hand holds a bow and she sits a horse."

"Come on, Elif!" she called out. "We don't have all day, you know! You'll have plenty of time with your pony. My Lord Dengizich will take her now."

Elif joined her, her eyes wide with wonder.

"Now let me think ... do you think Arslan would be interested to see your new bows, by any chance? Perhaps he might show you how they work. Do you know you've just forgotten how to use a bow? I can't help you. I'm just as useless, I'm afraid."

Elif laughed merrily and the two friends went to grab Elif's new bows and go in search of Arslan.

Chapter 14: Valley of the Dwarves

The Dwarf Prince invited Dengizich and his second-in-command, Gursel, along with Hakeem, to his home.

Such an invitation was unprecedented. It showed just how serious the dwarves were in aligning themselves with the humans of Kappadokia. A full century of Shantawi normally kept a guard on the valley, but it wasn't to protect dwarves. It was to save the lives of any humans foolish enough to go in search of them.

Jacinta had heard all about the dwarf lands. She was astonished to find that she was invited as well, and she had the cheek to ask if her three new friends could come. She could hardly believed it when her request was granted!

Her friends didn't know anything about the valley of the dwarves so she asked that no one tell them what it looked like. She wanted it to be a surprise. The few who knew about the valley knew why, and she waited impatiently for the three days before they were due to leave. Time seemed to pass unusually slowly but finally it was the after noon when they were due to set out.

Gursel and two Hun warriors rode as escort; Elif shared Sheera with Jacinta.

Hakeem and a few of his men had set up camp a few hours ahead so they would spend the night with them and ride to the valley just as the sun rose, which was the best time to see it.

"The dwarves call their region Dvergr-heimr; meaning Dwarf Home, in the old tongue," Jacinta was explaining to her young friends as they rode through a section of dry rolling hills. "Their language is a lot like Old Elvish. Why, I don't know."

"I suppose the visit will be rather boring," Arslan said. "No one would tell me about it. They say I have to see it for myself, but I hear dwarves live in dark caves. We won't be able to see much, even if we are allowed inside, which I doubt."

"It will be rather dull, I'm afraid," Jacinta agreed. "But think about this: you'll be able to tell your friends you have been somewhere that they can never be allowed to go."

Arslan smiled; at least that was worth the trip.

"What is that mountain?" Elif asked her riding companion, indicating an imposing snow-covered mountain in the far distance.

"It is called Oros 'Argaeos. It is an extinct volcano. At its base is the great trading city called Mazaca."

"Will we ever go there?"

"I don't know but I doubt it. It's much further than it looks from here," Jacinta said. "Today we are only going a short way; we will turn west soon."

"Will we meet many dwarves?"

"No," Jacinta said. "They don't show themselves. My father says he has visited there many times and he has only met a handful in all."

"Why are we camping for the night after travelling only a short way?" Elif asked, twisting back to talk to her.

Jacinta smiled at her. "You have to ride in as the sun first rises."

"Why is that?"

"Partly because it is hard to find at any other time ... and there are other reasons, you will see. We will need to get to sleep early, it's an early start."

* * *

When Elif received a nudge from Jacinta to wake up it was still dark. By the fire light she could see some of the men were breaking their morning fast and others saddling horses.

This early in spring the nights were cold with little wind. The nearby plants had dew on them. Jacinta was surprised that the Huns were so excited about it. Apparently good dew has enough moisture for the tough desert grasses and it also signals a chance of rain. It was a very good sign for desert herders.

They let the horses guide them in the darkness. They hadn't gone far when the sky began to lighten the mountains behind them, which stood out purple with a growing crimson tint staining the clouds.

"Are we supposed to see dawn over the mountains?" Elif asked. She was sitting in front of Jacinta and kept twisting around to look behind. "If so, it will be behind us."

"You will see," Jacinta said, hugging her friend with mounting excitement.

Finally, they topped a rise and the Shantawi spread out so the visitors could all see the wonder that was the Valley of the Dwarves.

The Huns were struck speechless.

It looked like a fairy kingdom. The only green was in the valley floor where they could vaguely make out grass, sheep and trees with something that looked like an orchard, all in darkness at this time of the morning.

Everywhere else was magical rock, honeycombed with holes. On some low bald hills the rock seemed to flow down the side as if molten, mainly white but also pink and soft yellows. Everywhere else there were great spires of rock, most wearing darker brown rocks on top, like hats. The darker rock had been harder resulting in an unusual form of weathering.

As they watched, the morning sun's rays shone out, lighting up the western side of the valley. With the tops of the spires lit by the morning sun and the bottom part of the valley still in shadow, it was a scene of unimaginable beauty.

"The Valley of the Dwarves," Jacinta whispered, tears coming to her eyes at the beauty of it all.

"You are a lying pig, Jacinta!" Elif twisted around to punch her friend lightly, but her eyes were shining and her face was alight with wonder.

Jacinta laughed in delight at the trick she had played on her friends and the breath-taking sight that she was able to show them.

"Everything you have brought us to, Jacinta, has been like out of a dream, and now this. I don't think I'll ever forget this sight as long as I live,." Elis said with tears in her eyes. "Did the dwarves make this with magic?"

"No, the dwarves tunnelled here for millennia," Jacinta said. "But it is soft rock and the wind and rain have done the rest."

"Is that an orchard?" Arslan asked.

"The dwarves love pistachio, apricot, grapes, citrus and olive trees," Hakeem said, riding up behind them. "And they sow other crops in autumn."

"There used to be a lot of dwarves, once, Jacinta said so." Arslan said, deep in thought.

"Yes, there were, but there was a terrible war. It was an unimaginably long time ago," Hakeem replied softly.

They spent a long time staring at the wondrous valley as the sun slowly rose and lit more and more that had been in shadow. Eventually, it was time to move into the valley and they were led on a short descent to the valley floor, to see the strange rock formations up close and to meet the dwarves.

Elif pointed. "It looks like a forest of penises!"

"Fairy chimneys!" Jacinta corrected her, laughing.

"Penises!" Elif insisted.

Jacinta pretended to cover Elif's eyes and then her mouth. The two friends were giggling as they fought and almost fell off the horse.

"They are penises!" Elif insisted.

"Yarak!" Erdogan agreed in Hunnic, looking at Jacinta challengingly.

"Fairy chimneys!" Jacinta replied firmly, trying to gag Elif who was making "mmphl!" noises while laughing.

"Look at that one," Arslan called out. "It looks like a castle, like you could go inside." There were doorways and windows seemingly cut into a great rock which had several spires.

"Don't wander away," Hakeem warned them. "This place is very dangerous. Most of these caves haven't been lived in for thousands and thousands of years. Even in the occupied ones not all areas are safe. Lots of the old parts have collapsed and many have ancient traps."

"Bey, how many dwarves are there?" Arslan asked.

"No one knows, the dwarves won't say. From the farms and herds I would say there are many hundreds of them, not much more than a thousand. It is too few."

"It is dry, yet the dwarves have farms."

"There is plenty of water if you know where to look." Hakeem smiled. "The dwarves have special ways of doing things that we do not understand. Their farms are neat and well managed and their herds are well maintained, but you will never see a dwarf working amongst them."

"I heard most won't come out in the sunlight, perhaps that is part of the reason," Arslan suggested. He was becoming a man and his next question was a man's question. "A few hundreds over thousands of years, if that were a herd it would be inbred, how do they even survive?"

Hakeem nodded to him. "I have no understanding of this, Arslan. The Wizard War was thousands and thousands of years ago. The Prince says there were even less of his people just after that. There were a few dwarves in the wider world but they seem to have gone now. This is their last valley. "

"They are so few, they are very precious." Arslan said, thoughtful. "Why would they risk all to help us?"

"Æloðulf is their bitterest foe," Jacinta said. "He, more than any other, was responsible for the fall of the dwarves. He has been tracking down and destroying the others of his kind. It took a very long time but now that he has finished, he has returned for what remains of the dwarves and elves."

"What, after all that time?" Erdogan said, incredulous. "Wouldn't he be too old to fight?"

"He doesn’t age, or if he does it is very slowly. It was his daimôn that I destroyed." Jacinta shuddered. "We believe it was he that trained Gansükh. If so, Gansükh is really working for him. Even after such a long time there are some who have preserved the memory of the Illvættir and of their leader Æloðulf. They will lay aside all tasks and all enmities. They are prepared to sacrifice everything they have to fight him. The dwarves are amongst them."

"Will we have to fight him then?" Erdogan asked.

A look passed between Hakeem and his daughter.

"No," Jacinta said. "Unless you have magic, Æloðulf will have little interest in you and it must be through magic that he is fought. It is said in the Elvish Prophecy that he cannot be killed. It is said that no one daimôn, no one living, no one dead, no one made or not made and no one of the races of men can possibly defeat him."

"How can he be fought then?" Erdogan piped up.

"I don't know who yet, but our God will send someone tasked with finding magic relics: armour and weapons of an ancient hero and awaken something that sleeps inside them." Jacinta was becoming irritated by the young boy's insistence.

"We will discuss this no further," Hakeem said firmly. "The problem of Æloðulf is not for you, my young Hun, and it is not for you to question."

Arslan looked at Jacinta, who looked away. He felt a surge of fear for his friend. It was so easy to forget who she really was.

He turned to admire the early buds on the poplars to distract himself. He smiled as he thought of the wonderful trick Jacinta had played on him and the others. He would have to pay her back by beating her at horseback riding.

He called across to Elif. "Elif, do you want to give Jacinta's horse a rest and ride with me?"

Elif didn't have to be asked twice. She kicked her leg over Sheera and slid off. Grinning widely, he pulled her up behind him and she wrapped her arms around his waist to hug him and rest her head on his back.

Seeing them together, and in love, Jacinta felt a pang of loss and envy. She wouldn't be able to have this sort of friendship.

"Stay close to me," she said to Erdogan softly. "Let them have some time together, just the two of them."

Erdogan looked mulish. He was used to following his cousin everywhere and didn't want to compete with a girl.

"Do you see those eagles overhead?" Jacinta asked him, to distract him. "Do you want to see who can be the first to spot where they nest, you or me?"

Erdogan flashed her a grin. As they were looking for eagle roosts, a dwarf was suddenly standing appeared out of nowhere.. One minute he wasn't there and the next minute he was right in front of them.

"My name is Austri," he announced without preamble. "It means 'east'. I suppose you have heard the legend of the four dwarves: Nordri, Sudri, Austri and Vestri who hold up the sky."

"No," Erdogan said.

"Well, you don't know much, do you?" Austri snorted.

He had bushy black hair, a thick beard and tough looking skin. He was only a little shorter than Elif but he had broad shoulders and a powerful body. Being a dwarf, he had the pale, almost bloodless colour of a race that lived underground.

Hakeem glanced back. "You children stay with Austri while we meet the Prince. If you give him any trouble, you will deal with me."

"Stupid young Huns are trouble I can deal with all on my own." Austri laughed.

"You are taller than your Prince," Erdogan challenged. "Are you sure you're a dwarf?"

"You're not very big, Erdogan." Austri grinned back at him. "Are you sure you're a human? Being a dwarf isn't just about size. Yet none of us are bigger than a small human. It would be silly otherwise, because we live in caves."

"How do you speak Hunnic?" Arslan asked.

"I don't." Austri touched his lips. "If you looked more closely you would know that. Come with me and I will show you some other things dwarvish. Perhaps it might convince you.

"Let go of your horses, they will be all right."

Austri set off at a rapid pace up a steep hill. He was a powerful climber. Arslan tried to catch up with him but all he achieved was showering the others below with dust and small rocks. The dwarf was waiting for them at the top before they were even halfway up.

When they reached the top, they could see the adult party was continuing on ahead. Their horses were nowhere to be seen. There was a dark cave nearby which Austri waved them to.

"It's dark in there," Erdogan said, looking at it nervously.

"It's lucky you are not afraid then." Austri chuckled. "Let's go inside."

Jacinta felt a thrill of fear. She had always known dwarves could be dangerous. She was beginning to suspect just how dangerous they could be.

"Don't be afraid, Jacinta," Austri said. "You are safe with me. The lions are not alive."

"Lions?" Arslan asked, taking Elif's hand.

"And leopards, and wolves and tigers," Austri said as he ushered them into the dark cave.

A statue of a fierce-looking dwarf suddenly lit up in front of them. It seemed to leap out at them from the darkness.

Jacinta felt for Erdogan's hand with her good hand. He almost crushed it in fright.

Various garishly painted statues continued to light up one by one. It was as if they were leaping at them from different directions as Austri lit them up.

"Do you want to see it all?" he asked.

The whole room started to fill slowly with light. The walls, the floor and ceiling were plastered and they held busts of lifelike figures, intricately carved and painted in brilliant colours hanging out well into the room. It looked as if it had just been done or just freshly repainted. Jacinta had never seen paint so vivid.

Was it a temple of some sort? What age was it? She never found out.

Austri immediately took off again, deeper into the underground kingdom.

He led them upstairs to lonely towers: lookouts and places made to study the moon and the stars. He showed them traps with great round boulders to roll down giant groves to seal tunnels and tall rocks finely balanced to fall on intruders. He took them to a great cavern where water fell from the roof high above, to a lake far below.

He showed them an underground city abandoned for millennia, with communal kitchens with special flues to disperse and hide the smoke. Nearby there were great echoing halls, workshops, mansions and palaces, even burial crypts. There was a chamber of statues of what had to be dwarvish kings and another filled with carvings that looked like ancient dwarvish gods. Even underground they were worn down perhaps by time and moisture. The paint was all but gone.

All was empty: whatever the dwarves left inside the rooms had long gone to dust (or mud in the moister parts) or was buried under rock falls from the roof above.

From a distance he showed them a section where the roof had completely given way and others where the floor collapsed. There should have been much more collapse, Jacinta knew. This place saw a lot of earthquakes. Perhaps the dwarves had a way of preventing it , or he wasn't showing it to them.

Lighting seemed no problem. It appeared as they approached, and changed as Austri somehow controlled it, as he talked: white light that glowed softly, blinding light like the sun, wondrous coloured lights, moving, making patterns and changing hues. Water would also rush from dry fountains or along long-neglected channels. And yet they never saw him touch anything or make any visible signal.

He had an unnerving habit of leading from the front and then he was walking at their rear, pointing out another wonder or reminding them to watch their step or duck their heads. Sometimes he was in the middle.

He must be disappearing and appearing in a blink, but Jacinta never saw him doing it. It was always as if she had overlooked his presence, as if he had been in his new position all along, even though he had not been there heartbeats before.

They lost all track of time. He was giving them no time to ask questions, hurrying them along, breathless from one wonder to the next, till their heads were spinning and they followed in a daze.

It was eventually too much for Jacinta.

"Wait!" she called out, planting her feet and hunching down stubbornly. They had been staring at a communal kitchen. "These parts you are showing us are not in the same place."

Austri laughed at her. "Why, you clever little paladin, I never claimed they were."

Her three Hun friends looked completely bewildered.

"You seem to lead us from one place to another, one room to another, but the palace, the hall, this room and the stairs are all in completely different places."

"This kitchen!" She pointed. "It is small and primitive, it should be the oldest but there is still some old soot and it's hardly worn at all. It is from after the fall. The survivors lived or hid here for a while. The stairs to the lookouts seemed oldest, almost worn away by generations of dwarvish feet. And the great hall, the palace, and the rooms full of what must have been kings and old Gods; they were damaged at the time of your fall. The stone there has faced intense heat. I think it was from concentrated daimôn fire, several daimôns at once, the attack there must have been overwhelming."

Austri sucked in a breath. "I had meant to show you our greatness and our wonders." He sighed and bowed low to her. When he looked up, his face very grim. "I meant to impress you, but instead you have seen our true story, Jacinta. For us dwarves it is one of undying sorrow. Yet I am not sorry you have seen it. We may seem as a wondrous people to the few humans that we have allowed to know us. The truth is we are the palest shadow of what we once were, living on, like ghosts in the ashes of our ruin.

"The halls of the old Kings and of the forgotten Gods we call them. Our great enemy and his minions had the dwarves trapped there. I don't know how he could have done that, because we are not an easy people to trap.

"It was a scene of terrible slaughter, unimaginable horror. When I was a young dwarf, it was littered by the bones of thousands of adults (men and women) all charred and broken and old weapons and, yes, there were many other signs of bitter and desperate fighting.

"We believe it was the final end of the Dwarf Kingdom. The few survivors of the former battles must have been chased from room to room. They finally had nowhere left to go. In the vast hall beyond were the bones of little children, tens of thousands of little children. They had died trying to protect them."

All the horror of the defeat and sacking of Elvish Troia at the hands of the Mykēnai had been nothing to this; what the elves and dwarves had suffered in the Illvættir wars.

Austri looked up with fierceness and hope in his eyes. "Every day of our long lives each one of us prays for vengeance. You have been sent by your God, Jacinta. Maybe it is the God of all of us, I don't know. But can you give us that at last, after all this time, little paladin?"

"Vengeance is not my task," Jacinta said, staring at him levelly. "Yet if I live, I will end this war. For a while I wondered if elves were like this before their decline. I now know that as wondrous as they once were, you dwarves had been far, far greater. I also understand how dreadful was the power and the malice that you faced."

Austri taped her from behind. "Our Prince and your father have told me they are ready for you now."

So, she hadn't been invited by accident.

She ducked under the arch that Austri indicated. She knew she couldn't be anywhere near where her father had gone but she only had to walk a few paces and follow a light shining around a corner to the right and there was the Prince and her father waiting for her. Her father was sipping a cup of tea.

Arslan and Erdogan said they tried to follow her while Austri, amused, watched them try. All they came to was a shallow store room. There was no door or window, just blank stone walls. There were no secret levers or trap doors and no tracks on the dusty floor.

"When a daimôn is destroyed it pulls all its energy inside, as its existence collapses," Prince Fraener said without any preamble.

"Æloðulf was bonded to his daimôn and all his substance should have been sucked into the dying daimôn. Then all that energy should have been sent at you. You surely would have been destroyed by that amount of energy. When that happened, it will search for another home, the one that destroyed it or, failing that, another daimôn."

"He is alive," Jacinta said.

She had known it intellectually, but she could feel it as she spoke.

"Yes, he is and it is bitter news," Prince Fraener agreed. "Some of the energy came to you, more from the daimôn than Æloðulf . Somehow, impossibly, he was able to resist. He was still almost destroyed by it; almost, but not quite. You have a small part of him inside you. He won't regain all his powers until he claims that back."

She remembered Ba'al's description of the Illvættir, like a parasite, taking over their host from the inside. She shuddered, feeling as if she would be sick.

"No, you don't have enough of him inside you to take over, just some of his substance and not much at that. Besides, you are a paladin and that makes you unique in ways even I do not understand. One day, though, he will surely come looking for you," Prince Fraener continued. "He still commands power beyond all our imagining. No one on this earth, under it, or in any of its realms can match him, not even many of us together. You cannot win against him and you cannot run or hide. I will give you something."

"Thank you, sir," Jacinta said politely.

"It will be a tattoo. You must never reveal its secret. It was the only thing that saved the few of us dwarves that survived the attack on our homes. To hide it, we will place it low on your buttock. Your father will remain to reassure you of no ill intent."

"Thank you," Jacinta said again.

At his bidding she lay herself face down on a sheep's skin with her dress pulled up and her underpants pulled down while two men sat intently studying her bottom.

Great! Just Great!

To make it even more humiliating, nothing seemed to be happening for some time.

"Is there a problem?" she asked eventually.

"It is not insurmountable," a woman's voice said. "This is going to hurt."

It did. She bit her hand and squeezed her eyes against the tears. It was like she had been branded with a poker.

"We have branded you," the strange lady-dwarf said. "You are unique and it was much more difficult than I expected." She paused a moment. "It is done."

She pulled Jacinta's garments back into position and patted her bottom reassuringly. Jacinta squeezed her eyes against the tears and rolled over to thank the lady, but there was no one there, only Hakeem and Prince Fraener and they were sitting a little way back from her.

"That was amazing, how did you put the tattoo on?" Hakeem asked.

He hadn't seen or heard the lady dwarf!

"Humph," the dwarf Lord said and passed a silver mirror for Jacinta to inspect the result.

She once again bared her bottom in the presence of the men and had to twist around to see. She had fine dwarf runes on her buttock, glowing silvery in the shadowy light.

"You will carry this dweomer (Dwarf magic) wherever you go. You and any people immediately surrounding you will be invisible to even the most powerful of magics," the dwarf explained. "The mark will fade with time, but it will be visible in the dark, so be careful."

Jacinta wordlessly jerked off her glove and held her hand up. It had faint sparkling lights moving over it. The Prince merely nodded acknowledgement.

"Is it the same that you used on my father's sword?" she asked.

"No, not the same." The dwarf Prince seemed pleased she had remembered that part. "Your father's sword has other properties which makes it special, but none of them help much, against daimôns. They were the one thing we had most difficulty fighting."

A shiver of fear raised the hairs on Jacinta's arms as something else occurred to her. That had to be it! She had to ask, and yet she feared what the answer would be.

"Do you know the Elvish Prophecy?" she started.

"Don't talk nonsense!" Prince Fraener snapped irritably. "It would be an ill day when a dwarf has to turn to an elf to learn about magic and prophecy."

"You have space here to hide all the people of Kappadokia and far more," she added, feeling her way.

The Prince flushed and screwed his face up in anger. "We have shown you this, little girl, and we have said so. I heard what you said to Austri. Why do you humans ask questions when you already know the answer? Don't waste my time. Go and play with your friends."

Jacinta drew herself up, angrily. "I will not be dismissed like that. I am not finished."

Prince Fraener stared up at her, shocked. She stood there glaring down at him. Eventually it was he who broke eye contact and looked away.

"I forgot. You have the right. Ask your questions."

Hakeem let out his breath. He had just watched his adopted daughter stare down the oldest being in the known world, barring the last of the svartálfar,  Æloðulf and Silver.

"You had cities here, didn't you?"

"Of course." Prince Fraener snorted. "We dwarves were the first. We had two great cities here and one in the great mountains north and east of here. They were overrun."

Then Jacinta knew.

As she asked the next question her voice was hoarse, her throat was dry, her heart racing. "Which one was called 'the Deepest'?"

The Prince hissed. "Don't you ever mention that name again!"

"I think I have to go there," Jacinta said in a small voice.

"You cannot!" Prince Fraener looked at her in horror. "The creatures that came against that city remain. They could not be fought then, when the dwarves of that city were very, very, strong. Nothing that walks this earth can fight them now."

"Yet one day," Jacinta said. "If I live, I will go there. Have you heard of the weapons and armour for the man who never was?"

"LEAVE THAT ARMOUR ALONE!" the Prince leapt to his feet. He was visibly shaking, his face screwed up in the half light his hands balled into fists.

"It is a thing of great evil."

"What can you tell us?" Hakeem asked softly.

The dwarf sighed and sat slowly down, his head bowed.

He pulled long and hard at his beard and rubbed at his hair before he continued.

"Now it is that I recall the exact words of the prophecy of the elves, for it touches on one of our own legends of the fall. I will tell you what I know, which is little enough.

"The mage wars came to us dwarves before my time, and I am already very old. Such was the slaughter and destruction that no dwarf was able to record what happened. The few records, such as we have, were written long afterwards. It is hard for a dwarf to admit they don't know, but there you have it.

"We dwarves once had three great underground cities and they were very old even back then. The oldest were here, we called them the Sundriheimr (southern homes), but the Nordheimr (northern home) under the great mountains was far greater. It was a great wonder, bigger than both of the other two combined, far better and far stronger. They say that at its peak more than a hundred thousand dwarves lived there, but it is only a legend to us now. No one now knows exactly where it was.

"And yes, it was called 'the Deepest'.

"For a time after the fall, not all surviving dwarves lived in this valley. There were once those who brought us news, but it is a long time since any wandering dwarves have come here. We don't know what that means but as far as we know, apart from them if there are any left, we are the last of the dwarves."

He paused, his expression unreadable in the half light. "We dwarves have always kept apart from other races of men. In the old time, we built many beautiful and wondrous things but it was always for our own pleasure, not to show others. In our own domain we were very strong. There was nothing we feared.

"They say the Illvættir War had already been going on for a long time. Eventually the Illvættir were hunting down the last few free svartálfar and a few humans who had aided them. It was not our war then, or so we thought.

"Then they came for the elves. The elves were valiant and had great magic back then, but it was not enough. They had no real answer to the daimôns. In the end none of us had. Such was the slaughter that a group amongst the dwarves began to help the elves. They feared the Illvættir would come for dwarves. But there was no reason why they would, so they were not believed.

"A few of the elves were saved by fleeing to the land of ice and snow. Daimôns cannot abide such cold. It must have been a desperate existence in that bleak land, but they made it their home. It was only later, when the world became warmer, that their refuge was breeched.

"That was when the Western Elves began a long journey here. I think it was to get our help. At that time a great champion arose amongst them that could somehow fight daimôns . The elves called him Hjørvard. He might not have been from the races of men because he was also called the 'man who never was', though no one alive knows what that means. A group of dwarves from Nordheimr, the Deepest, made his armour and weapons, and when his task was over, it was returned to them. They say the hero vowed to return in the last battle of the Illvættir war.

"That sort of thing is always said in legends, so who knows what it means? There must have been those in the Deepest who knew about him but that knowledge is lost, unless the truth is still hidden somewhere in that dreadful place.

"Before the Western Elves reached here, the Illvættir and their daimôns came for us. Was it because we helped the elves or we might help them? Perhaps, but it is something to this day we do not understand and it was something we were not ready for."

"A madness seized the Illvættir," Jacinta said.

"I have heard that," Prince Fraener said. "Perhaps it was so. They came here to our cities and towns. They sealed them somehow, most were trapped inside.

"Maybe eighty years later they attacked the Deepest. It is also called 'the Last City of the Dwarves' because it was our last city and our most powerful one. Some humans call it ‘the Lost City of the Dwarves’ because its location has long remained hidden.

"The dwarves there had all that time to get ready and they were very powerful. It took a long time to fall."

The dwarf paused, his emotions hard to read in the semi-darkness. "After that, Æloðulf and the Illvættir disappeared. We didn't know why back then, but it was the only thing that saved the few dwarves and elves that were left. We now know that they turned against each other and they all went into hiding in various places. It has taken Æloðulf millennia to hunt down and murder what had once been his pupils and friends "

"It is something about summoning daimôns," Jacinta said. "It eventually turns the summoner mad."

"Little girl, please do not search for the 'Deepest'. It is best to leave whatever sleeps there undisturbed, and do not even think of the armour. It has a fell name. It was called the 'drinker of souls'."

"What does that mean?" Hakeem asked, concerned.

"I don't know. The Dweomer used in its making was dark and forbidden. Only someone mad would ever use such magics, they always have a cost."

"Someone mad or someone desperate," Jacinta whispered. She shivered, drinker of souls!

"Do you have a picture or a sketch of this armour?" she asked.

Prince Fraener seemed to reach in the darkness behind him. He passed her something that looked like parchment fixed on a frame of bleached wood.

"This is very old," he said. "I don't even recognise the characters used, but it has an image of the empty armour."

Half the page was covered by strange runes and then below was an image of the armour.

Fraener said the armour was empty and yet there it stood, holding a shield and a spear.

It was of a material unlike anything she had ever seen, maybe like onyx, dark and shiny with a red sheen. It covered the wearer completely, even the hands. There were the eye holes and a grill covering the mouth and nose. It looked impossibly heavy. Jacinta thought she could see something behind the eye holes, hidden in shadow.

"Is this to any scale?" she asked.

"It is a ... there is no word in human-thought. It is a true-image."

"You said it was empty. I think I can see something inside."

The prince snatched it back and looked closely. "I see nothing.

"Have nothing to do with this thing. It is cursed."

"Something sleeps inside," Jacinta said; a feeling of dread threatened to overwhelm her.

It wasn't a matter of activating the armour. That wouldn't be how it would work. No, it had to be worn, and it was called the Drinker of Souls!

Was that what happened to Hjørvard? Was that why he had disappeared? Was he still trapped inside?

The Prince saw her deep in thought and took the image back. It seemed to disappear again.

"I will give you the picture and the container in which it is stored, little human. You will feel no weight from the container no matter what it carries. And no one else will be able to see it or feel it..

"All you have to do is think of it and then reach for it. Come back here before you even think about going to that terrible place and, if I still cannot convince you, I will help you all I can." He placed something on Jacinta's back that seemed to be a handful of darkness. She concentrated and put her hand inside and checked the parchment was still there. It felt like it was held in a fold of something. She felt her hand around and realised there was some remaining space the container had. A magical container, it was beyond any price.

The Prince simply turned to her father, effectively dismissing her. "The Hun have been buying supplies and establishing depots. They are bribing officials to the north of your city. Soon they will be moving on Karsh."

"Thank you for the warning."

"Will you be ready?"

"Thanks to you, yes."

As the two began to discuss the problem, Austri arrived to take Jacinta back.

 

 

Chapter 15: Expectations

Jacinta saw little of her father while they were both in Kappadokia. She understood why and tried not to show it, but she was bitterly disappointed. Without her Hunnic friends she would have had a lonely and boring time but, with them, the time passed quickly enough.

She was pleased to hear Hakeem would be travelling back with her to Troia but she eyed the preparations with dismay.