Strange Candy (Vampire Hunter 0.5)

He was sick, blind, and crazy, and he had eluded me for days.

His prophecy protected him or perhaps the voices he called out to told him I was near. He turned his head to one side as if he were listening. I heard nothing but the wind and a small animal scuttling in the brush.

He turned his blind eyes and looked directly at me. The flesh along my back crawled. He could not see me, but I knew he did.

His voice was an abused cackle that never seemed to finish a thought completely. I had listened to him rant, but now he spoke low and well. “Ask,” he said.

It was Celandine’s question, but while he was in the mood to answer, I asked. Not all prophets are able to answer direct questions. Those that do tend to answer only one question for each person. “How do I find the token which Celandine the Healer seeks?”

“The black road must take. Demons help you. Fight in darkness you will.”

I heard the whisper of cloth that announced the healer.

She came up beside me, white cloak huddled round her body.

Without taking my eyes from the old man I asked, “Did you hear what he said?”

“Yes.”

“Ask him something.”

“Where is the token I seek?”

“Demon, demon inside.” He coughed, his body nearly doubled over with the violence of it. Bloody foam flecked his chin. Celandine stepped forward. “Let me heal you.”

His eyes went wide. “Death want, death seek, no heal.” And he was gone, vanishing into the underbrush noiseless as a rabbit.

Celandine stood there, tears glistening in her eyes. “He’ll die.”

“He wants to die.”

She shook her head, and one teardrop slid from crystalline blue eyes down a flawless white cheek. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

I touched her arm. “Celandine, no healer can cure the madness of prophecy.”

She nodded and pulled the cloak’s hood to hide her face. A strand of black hair trailed across the white cloth like a stain.

I said, “This is the seventh prophet, Celandine. We must trust the information and act upon it.”

She spoke in a low voice that I had to strain to hear.

“Aren’t you afraid, Bevhinn?”

I debated with myself whether she wanted truth or for me to be strong for her. I decided on truth. “I fear the black healers of Lolth. I fear being a female trapped behind their dark border.”

“And yet you will go?”

“It is where our quest takes us. We must go.”

She turned to me, face framed in shadowed hood. “It is death by torture for me if I am caught.”

I had heard the stories of what Loltuns did to white healers. They were tales to curdle the blood round winter fires.

“I will die before I let them take you. You have my word.”

She spun round as if she would find an answer in the spring morning. “I have your word.” She turned back to me, blue eyes hard. “What good is your word? You aren’t human. You don’t worship the Goddess that I serve. Why should I trust you to give your life for me?”

I clamped a six-fingered hand round sword hilt. Five months I’d traveled with her. Five months of living off the land, killing that we both could eat. I had slain winter-starved wolves and fought bandits. I had guarded her back while she healed the sick. I had been wounded twice, and twice she had healed me. And now this.

I let the anger flow into my face. I stared at her with my alien purple eyes, but I kept my voice low with menace. I had no desire to shout and bring men or a wild beast upon us. “Your fear makes you foolish, Celandine. But do not fear. Your father paid me well to guard you on this exile’s quest.”

“You sell yourself for money like some harlot.”

I slapped her hard, and she fell to the ground. She looked startled. I had never offered her violence before. “Your father bought my sword, my magic, and my loyalty. I will lay down my life to protect you, but I will not be insulted.”

“How dare you. I am a white healer…”

I finished for her, “And bastard daughter of the King of Celosia. I know all that. He hired me, remember.”

“You are my bodyguard, my servant.”

“I’m not the reason we’re out here in this godforsaken wilderness. You killed a man. You took that pure white gift of yours and twisted it. You used black healing and took a life.”

She was crying now, softly.

“The only way to end this exile is to follow the prophet’s advice and go to Lolth.”

“I’m afraid.”

I grabbed her upper arms, pulling her to her feet. “I’m afraid, too, but I want this over with. I want to go back to Meltaan. I want a bed and a bath and decent food. I want someone to guard my back for a change.” I let her go, and she stumbled back, sobbing.

“I will not let your fear keep me out here forever. Your father didn’t pay me that much.”

“You can’t leave me.”

“I could, but I won’t. But tomorrow we travel the dark road.”

Morning found us on the bank of Lake Muldor. A blue cloak to match her eyes replaced the healer’s cloak Celandine usually wore. She kept it pulled close around her though it was very warm for spring.

The sun was warm on my face. The light shattered diamond bursts off the lake water and the silver of my armor. I had bound my breasts tight under the scale mail. I was counting on the fact that most humans think male Varellians look effeminate. And that they would look at sword and armor and think me male.

Celandine would simply go as my wife. It was rare, but it was done. That would explain my exile. The problem was that we both stood out. We could not simply blend with what few travelers there were.

Celandine was too aware of her royal heritage to play the common wife. She had no talent for lying or being false. I could have wasted magic to disguise myself as human, but it wouldn’t have been safe. I was earth-witch, not illusionist, and disguise was not one of my better spells. So I rode as a Varellian. My hair was spun snow with a purity of color that few humans achieved. The hair could have been dyed, the odd-shaped ears hidden, but a sixth finger was something else. It was considered a mark of good fortune in Varell but not among the humans. And, of course, my eyes gave me away. Purple as a violet, the color of a grape.

We were not your usual traveling couple. I rode a unicorn, which was very hard to hide. The unicorns of Varell are as big as a warhorse. They were the mounts of royalty and of the royal guard. Once a unicorn and a rider are bound, it is a lifelong binding. So through no fault of his own, Ulliam shared my exile among the humans and the horses.

But he also shared my magic, though he can only feel it and not perform it. His great split hooves danced on the damp meadow grass. The earth-magic of spring was calling. My power was tied to the ground and that which sprang from it. Every meadow flower, every blade of grass, was hidden power for my magic. My power called to other things. I shared the joy of the swallow as it turned and twisted over the lake. I froze in the long grass with the rabbit waiting for our horses to pass. Spring was one of the most powerful times for an earth-witch, as winter was one of the worst. And Ulliam danced with me on his back, feeling the power. I hoped I would not need it.

Celandine rode silently, blue cloak pulled over a plain brown dress. Visions of torture still danced behind her eyes. Her fear was an almost palpable thing. She rode one horse and carried the lead for a second. She would need a fresh mount if we were to make good time. I would have liked to rest Ulliam, but warhorses were not easily found in the wild lands. I would not ride less. You could not fight off the back of a normal riding horse. The clang of metal, the swinging shield, even drawing bow and arrow, could send a horse racing in fright. And you couldn’t afford that in battle. A war steed had to be trained to it from birth; there was just no other way. Ulliam and I had been trained together. No other mount could have known my mind as he did.

I had used magic to make him less noticeable. Most would see a great white horse and nothing more. If a wizard concentrated, then perhaps he would see past the glamour, but it was the best I could do. In Lolth they sacrificed unicorns to Verm and Ivel.

I asked Celandine, “Have you ever worshipped Ivel?”

She made the sign against evil, thumb and little finger extended near her face. “Don’t use her full name.”

“As you like. Have you ever worshipped Mother Bane?”