Chapter 52

Katarina couldn't get past the lock on the door. She had only a rudimentary knowledge of lockpicking and her attempts to probe the lock were fruitless. She tried jimmying the door with the thinnest dagger Baurus had given her, but that didn't work. Frustrated, she'd tried chopping through the door with her hatchet, but the wood was like boarwood, fibrous and dense.

"Goddess," She prayed, "If it's your will that I should get through this door, help me get through the fucking thing!" She ended her plea with a frustrated growl, and then glanced skyward. "Amen."

Suddenly, she blinked. What was she doing, praying to the Goddess like that? She already had a way to get through the door. The Golden Lady had taught her how to shoot a beam of holy fire from her hand when she was tracking that Warden's brother down in the woods east of Norn.

"Stupid girl. Why don't you think?" She muttered angrily to herself, and crouched down.

She extended a finger, whispered a prayer, and watched a stream of fire no thicker than a quill pen lance from her extended fingertip and bore into the lock.

The metal glowed red, then orange, then yellow, and then a brilliant white.

"Now!" Katarina yelled, and jerked on the door and was rewarded when it opened a snap of tortured metal, the liquefying lock spraying molten gobbets of metal across the floor.

Katarina stopped up short, and whispered a prayer of gratitude to the Golden Lady as she took in the contents of the room from the doorway. Clearly she'd discovered some forgotten treasure vault. There were boxes of coin stacked everywhere, neatly organized stacks of ingots, and racks of weapons which were obviously powerful beyond the mundane. Others looked to be ceremonial rather than utilitarian, crusted with jewels of all sorts and sizes.

"So where is the relic?" Katarina asked the air, frustrated. She tried auravision, and a number of books and weapons radiated magic. She knew it wasn't those. Holy relics wouldn't radiate magic.

Katarina closed her eyes and prayed to the Goddess for wisdom and insight, and chose a random path through the vault, eyeing the treasures of a bygone age. As she rounded a stack of crates loaded with ivory statuettes, she spotted a short altar with a book and an urn in a shadowy corner of the room, away from the other treasures.

She approached the altar and saw that it was draped with a folded purple cloth, fringes with golden tassels and embroidered in golden thread with a fleur-de-lys. She opened the book on the altar, and read the story of some nameless person who had followed after the Saint Alicia, a woman that had been canonized after her death.

The woman had described Alicia as lively, with an energetic personality, delighting all whom she met. She excelled in the use of the halberd and sword and led the armies of the Golden Lady to many victories. The nameless person that kept the record had an unprecedented level of interaction with the Saint. They shared meals together. Laughed and cried together. Shockingly, they shared a lover during one week that Katarina blushingly paged through.

All was not well with the Church, however, and the young paladin found herself embroiled in scandal after scandal. Alicia had steadfastly refused to bend, however, and through some deft maneuvering, was able to get a corrupt Lord Cardinal to expose his own lies and heresy. She slew him for the crimes, and his loyal forces in turn had her burned at the stake. It baffled Katarina at first to hear of a Lord Cardinal. The Church of the Golden Lady had always been matriarchal. No man could ascend to such an exalted position of authority.

The nameless person who wrote the tale collected Alicia's ashes. Her famed spear, Rhon, described as "long-bladed, mirror-bright, and thirsty for slaughter" was not not found. One thing that had miraculously survived the stake had been Alicia's sash, a heavy cloth that was a deep, royal purple with a thread-of-gold weaving of the fleur-de-lys on the tails. The nameless person had secreted away Alicia's remains in the family vaults.

Katarina closed the book, numb with shock and a deep, reverent awe. She wiped her face distractedly and was shocked to discover tears running down her face freely. One of her ancestors had traveled with Alicia, lived with her, loved with her, cried with her, and in the end, interred her remains with all the respect she'd deserved.

She took the book and tucked it into one of her saddlebags, the urn she wrapped with a leather thong so that it would not open and stuffed it into her pack. She eyed the purple cloth on the altar and raised it to her nose. Fire, smoke, roses. She pitched forward in a dead faint, her head striking the altar with sickening force.

Ollara found her clothes, but not before she found the remains of her mate and daughter. She clutched their remains to her bosom in the charred and shattered room and wailed, tears streaming down her face. He had not been strong, but he had been wise, and kind. The others had mocked her; what good was a man, they argued, if he could not stand shoulder to shoulder with you? She had loved him anyway. He'd given her a daughter, and her daughter had been born perfect, both strong and wise and filled with life and love.

"First One," She prayed. "Golden One, please, take their souls to your side." She sobbed. "I shall not be long in joining them."

Suddenly, the scorched room was filled with a glorious, blinding, golden light.

Katarina opened her eyes; the strong, lovely face of the giantess peered down at her. The woman's eyes were red and swollen from crying. Katarina let out a despondent sigh. She'd gone to see the remains of her family.

Katarina raised her hand shakily to her face; it was smeared with blood. Her fingertips sizzled and throbbed. She knew that sensation, when had she felt it last? It came to her, then: when she was seeing visions and dreams as she trekked through the woods, searching for her sister. First came the dream, then the vomiting, then the horrid feeling of thousands or millions of tiny burrowing, buzzing insects crawling beneath her skin. That feeling faded with time, finally disappearing, leaving the fingertips buzzing and numb.

"You are alive again." Ollara observed, and Katarina blinked.

"Again?" She barked, and struggled to get up. "I died?" She complained, and the giantess smiled at her. "The First One would not allow that to happen, and neither would I." She replied gently.

"First One?" Katarina asked, and the giantess nodded solemnly. "The First One. The Golden One." She replied.

"The Golden Lady?" Katarina asked, struggling to right herself. Ollara nodded. "That is what you humans call Her, yes. To us, she is the Golden One. The One that brought peace and prosperity to our warring tribes. Now we worship Her, and do not fight amongst ourselves anymore."

"Help me up." Katarina urged, and the giant woman helped Katarina up.

"Where do we go from here, Katarina?" Ollara asked.

"We?" Katarina asked curiously. "I'd thought you'd want to..." She paused. "See to your family. Return to your tribe."

Ollara shook her head. "Moonracers mate for life. I will gain nothing by returning home. I would travel with you, for a time." She replied after a minute of thought.

Katarina nodded. "I'll welcome your company, then." She replied. "And to answer the question, I have to go south."

"South?" Ollara asked, rising to her feet. Katarina nodded. "Still have things to do." She explained.

The two of them headed south, following the Sterious, each preoccupied with thoughts of the visions they'd seen.

Katarina took to wearing Alicia's battle-standard in the fashion of the Saint that wore it beforehand, folded in half diagonally and bound across her hips like a sarong. They spoke little, each preferring to exist in their own respective silences. Ollara mourned her lost mate and child, Katarina struggled with the portents of the dream she had after picking up Alicia's battle standard.

"The blood of the saints cries out to you for remembrance, Katarina." Alicia's voice echoed in her thoughts.

"Katarina." Ollara's voice cut through her thoughts. She raised her head, and looked to the taller woman as she rode. Ollara was unable to ride a horse because of her height, but she could walk as quick as Katarina could trot her horse, so there were no problems with the giantess keeping pace.

"I wish to learn your language." Ollara declared.

Katarina nodded. "This should be fun. The 'common tongue' is Anglish." she replied, and the two of them began the teaching process.

Several days later, Ollara nudged Katarina as they sat around the evening fire.

"Hmm?" She murmured.

"You've been quiet since the castle." Ollara replied quietly. "Is this out of concern for me?" She asked quietly.

Katarina shook her head. "I..." She began, and sighed. "I've had a vision." She replied, and rubbed the bridge of her nose with a fingertip. "We don't usually talk about them." She began and her mouth twisted. "There's a number of reasons why. Visions are priceless treasures we are given from the Golden Lady. to talk of them is to reduce their majesty." She shrugged. "Also, they're political. If you have had a vision, then people treat you differently. You can use that to your advantage. Get people to do what you want. It also means that there will be a lot of other people that want to take advantage of you, manipulate you, because you've had a vision." She explained, and Ollara nodded to show she understood.

"I know that there are things I have to do because of this vision." Katarina began. "It's uncomfortable for me to know that I will not be allowed to return home until these things are done. It's uncomfortable for me to know that there are parts of my life I am not allowed to be in control of."

Ollara laughed at that, causing Katarina to glare at her.

"Katarina, when I met my mate, everyone told me that it was an unlucky match. He was not strong in the arm and he shied from combat. In my tribe, we say the heart is weak. But he was kind. He was attentive. He had a way of remembering everything about the people around him. Naming days, wedding days. He could remember your lineage better than you could. He could read the winds and tell you when and how much it would rain, or snow." She paused and wiped her eyes. "But he was not an ideal match for me. I am a warrior. I fight when I need to. I hunt when I need to. A proper match is one where you stand shoulder-to-shoulder. A proper mate would be able to run and jump and hunt and fight right alongside you." She stated, and shook her head. "Except I could not control myself; I fell in love and took him as my mate."

Katarina let out a breath she didn't remember holding.

"There will always be parts of your life you cannot control." Ollara advised, eyeing the skewer of meat. "And if the Golden One has decided the next part of your path, you should be joyous." She added, turning the meat over the fire. "Because she loves you and wants you to succeed."

Wincing in anticipation of the pain that was always there, Elizabeth opened her eyes. The grimy, dimly lit walls of the cavern came into view only slowly, as if her eyes didn't want to see them. She took a shaking, shuddery breath of the chilly air and let it out in a longsuffering sigh of relief.

It wasn't that her eyes didn't want to focus on the hateful cave walls that were perpetually slick with water, it was that they couldn't. After weeks of being the plaything for the cannibals, her body was finally giving up. She would be dead soon, and welcomed into the bosom of the Golden Defender with warm, inviting arms.

Was it weeks? She wondered. She had no idea. It could be just days. It could be months. She just knew they'd stopped raping her when there was no more meat to be gleaned from the corpses of her comrades, but that was the only change she could mark in this purgatory.

It was a struggle to keep her awareness. Her mind drifted. She saw warm meadows, blessed by the sun, a riot of flowers. A memory of a best friend in the days of her youth. Riding side by side with her fellow soldiers. She struggled to shove these things from her mind, keep her concentration. Once more she tried to move her body, one last act of defiance, one last attempt at escape.

A bleak thought tried to worm its way through her mounting frustration as her body refused to move. She tried to ignore it, but there it was, all the same: She was dying. She had no more strength left. She didn't have to fight anymore. She could let go. Her chest hitched in a dry sob. There was a sense of relief coupled with a bitter resentment. She didn't ask for this. Her entire squadron had been ambushed by the cannibals and she was the last one remaining.

A crack of thunder jolted Elizabeth all the way awake. She'd never heard thunder so loud before. Her ears throbbed and rang with the noise, her heart throbbed painfully in her chest, and she actually half-rose to a sitting position. Something shrouded in tattered rags made a shuffling, humping scrabble on hands and knees towards the only exit. Elizabeth cast her eyes around; she couldn't see any others, though because the lighting was dim she couldn't see very far at all anyway.

A second thundering crack like boulders shattering echoed down the hall and something let out a horrified shriek of pain.

There was obviously some sort of fighting going on, Elizabeth could hear the struggle. However, the effort of staying upright was too much, and she sank back down to the floor, feeling the muttered complaints of long-familiar pains stab through her, particularly her leg. She didn't look at it, didn't want to look at it, and she purposefully ignored it. She'd seen what they'd done to it once before, and shrieked so much they'd clubbed her with a rock to shut her up.

Elizabeth opened her eyes at the sound of bootheels on the cave floor. She stared uncomprehendingly at the tall, lithe woman that stood in the doorway. Warm light seemed to radiate out from her, and she carried something in her hand that Elizabeth couldn't make out.

Ah, Elizabeth realized dimly, this was an angel sent to collect her. She tried to speak, licked ragged lips, and let out a feeble croak.

The woman's eyes swung to her immediately, and moved to her with an easy, hipshot grace.

"By the Goddess they did a number on you." The woman observed, her voice smooth and gentle. Up close Elizabeth could see the woman's face was lovely, with a regal composure and severity. Her eyes flicked over Elizabeth's figure, no doubt detailing the injuries. Elizabeth could see the verdict in the other woman's eyes; she would not see the sun again.

Elizabeth was surprised, then, when the other woman produced a canteen.

"Only a sip." She admonished, and carefully dribbled a little water into Elizabeth's mouth, which she swallowed greedily. Her thirst seemed to spring up, and a savage, relentless hunger that terrified her with its ferocity. Her heart seemed to beat a little stronger in her chest.

The woman scrutinized Elizabeth's face intensely for a minute. "I might be able to save you." She said after a long study. "Or, if you like, I can end it for you." She advised, and a tear leaked from the corner of Elizabeth's eye.

"If I try to save you... it could be painful. Intensely painful." She advised, and Elizabeth rolled her eyes madly at this proclamation. What pain could this woman offer that Elizabeth hadn't yet experienced?

"But maybe you've suffered enough." She added. "I can see the horrors they've done. If it's your wish, I can end it for you."

Elizabeth let out a shuddery breath. She tried to speak, but her lips wouldn't form the words. She could barely breathe.

The woman was speaking, but Elizabeth couldn't hear her. The shadowy gloom of the cave deepened to a lightless pitch that swallowed her whole.

Sunlight. Sunlight and birds. The dawn of spring. The brilliant sun overhead, and all around rolling hills carpeted in grass and flowers. Birds darting overhead, and the somnolent drone of bees. Elizabeth couldn't explain it, but it seemed so incongruous. Wrong. She wasn't supposed to be here. She didn't know why that might be, but she also knew that wherever she was, it wasn't supposed to be here... wherever 'here' was. Wasn't she-

Her thoughts cut off as she turned around, taking in the scenery. As she turned, the bright midmorning sky dimmed into the light of early evening. The feeling of the horse between her legs deepened her confusion; wasn't she- her thoughts cut off as she glanced to her sides; her squadmates were riding alongside her, murmuring juicy gossips and bawdy jokes between them. The Sterious, the range of mountains that bordered Urdistan on the east were limned in the warm golds of a late afternoon sun. Icy terror doused her veins. She knew this. This was a memory. She knew what was about to happen. First, they-

A woman suddenly appeared, lurking between two of the aspens they were passing through. Utterly baffling; she seemed to be wearing a full-length black dress that clung to her figure sensually and disappeared into the golden leaves at her feet. Her hair was long, straight and a glossy black that seemed streaked with silver. Elizabeth swung back to double-take; the woman was gone. She frowned. That wasn't how it happened at all, there was no woman. There was only her and her three squadmates, on their way to-

"It doesn't matter." A voice called to her in the forest. She glanced around, confused. The members of her squad continued joking with each other, unconcerned. Had she been the only one to hear that?

She blinked, and she was in the common hall of her family's estate. The common hall was the welcoming point for all guests that called on the family. Elizabeth's mother held her customary place at the family table, and her mother's eyes held a weary patience in them as she looked down at her daughter.

Elizabeth had grown up seeing that expression in her mother's eyes for years. In the Anglish Empire, a woman that wanted to fight was destined for great things and was encouraged. In the tiny nation-state of Urdistan however, women were expected to marry and raise families. It didn't matter that Urdistan was conquered by the Anglish almost as an afterthought when their parent-nation Ardeal surrendered hundreds of years ago. Anglish Law might be Anglish Law, but in Urdistan, you didn't go to war, you went to the temple and came out with a husband.

Elizabeth had wanted to fight, and she had wanted to fight since she was a snot-nosed and pig-tailed brat running up and down the streets with the urchins.

Her mother had allowed her to fight as a child, her audible (and oft-repeated) opinion that eventually Elizabeth would bore of it. When it became evident that Elizabeth had no intention of stopping, Her mother had reluctantly enlisted her in the City Watch.

"I get it." Elizabeth finally stated. With that declaration, she was back in the woods, but this time snow was falling thickly, without a breeze, and the overhead sun was a dim coin behind steel-gray clouds. "This is a dream." She declared.

As if in response, a warm light like sunlight streamed through the trees out ahead to the left. Secure in her knowledge that this was all in her mind, she strode through the snow aggressively. As she rounded the snow-encrusted trunk, the snow stopped as if drawn by a line. On the other side of the trees was verdant green hills bathed in the light of a warm spring sun. Seeing this emerald paradise seemed to call attention to her shivering cold, the aches in her bones, her tired muscles. She had only to cross that threshold and all would be at peace.

Her heart surged with relief. It was over. Finally, the horror was over. Everything she'd endured had come to a close. She struggled through the last few feet of snow; while she hadn't been looking it had piled up around her. She overcompensated and fell to her knees; she struggled up and a woman stood between the two trees, barring the way.

She radiated warmth and light, her expression infinitely kind, filled with the tenderest compassion. She had white hair that was braided and draped over her shoulder; the wrist-thick cable came to her hips. She was undeniably beautiful but filled with a regal severity, an aristocratic tilt to her face. Here was a woman that would demand of the world everything and would not countenance any naysayers. A noble queen who would take up her sword and lead from the front.

No mistake; this was the angel that would lead her wearied soul from her tortured body into the Promised Land where she might rest and bask in the light of the Golden Lady, the Goddess of the Dawn, the Lady of Spring, the Golden Mother.

"I'm ready!" She babbled, struggling the last few feet. "I can't take it anymore. I'm so sorry!" She sobbed, feeling hot tears trickle down her face. She stumbled and would have fallen, but the woman caught her in strong arms and lifted her up. Strangely, the light died and the color drained out of the world and she was bundled in a bedroll of all things.

"Who says they're ready?" The woman chided gently, wiping away Elizabeth's tears. "You're ready when the Golden Lady calls you, and not one moment sooner." She added.

Elizabeth shook her head. "You- I-" She broke off, and then shouted in frustration, her voice cracking.

"Have you seen what they did to me?" She screamed in the woman's face. "I need this! I can't go back... not after that. Not after they did that to me." She sobbed.