Stronghold

Book II of the Waterbound Epic....

A loud clang woke her from her injury-induced sleep. Her jailor’s booming voice could be heard echoing through the caves. The darkness was toxic, making shadows dance when she opened her eyes.

Her tongue, swollen and dry, cried for water as she came back into consciousness.

“You’ve got a visitor, wench.” He hissed, and she heard the grating sound of the gate opening. The burning light and heat of a torch seared her eyes. She kept them down, knowing that Maircos had likely sent another of his bidders to beat her, as if there was anything left to break in her body. She tensed, grinding her jaw in preparation for the first greeting blow.

“Leave us.” Someone demanded.

“I do not-”

“Leave us and do not return.” The low female’s voice whispered. Nanash stiffened with the magic her words carried. The other magicians had failed to break her mind, but this voice carried true power, power that tweaked her memory as if she’d felt it before. She forced her hand beneath her, moaning when the shackles chaffed against her raw skin.

“Don’t.” The one who sounded female whispered. Nanash heard the rustle of cloth, and water pouring into a cup. Two, black gloved hands reached for her shoulders, and with strength greater than known, she turned Nanash to her back, her head resting in the woman’s lap. Pressure touched her lips, her eyes too inflamed to open fully and see what it was. “Drink.” She ordered, and Nanash obeyed, the cool water flowing over her cracked throat.

When it was gone, she sighed, feeling revived. The female remained hidden beneath her hooded cloak, her hands brushing Nanash’s hair from the bruises on her face.

“What is the meaning of this?” The female softly demanded, and Nanash felt the fester filled swelling along her face decrease with each stroke of the maiden’s hand, though she knew not if it was imagined.

“Who are you?” She croaked, too weak to raise her hands to remove the maiden’s hiding place.

“...I am the one cursed by blood.”

“Cypress?!” Nanash began to shake, and as the female removed her hood, Brein’s haunting soul was staring down upon her in pain and pity. A small smile touched her black lips, her hands pausing. “You live?!”

“So it appears, dear sister.”

“Where is Kamara and Vaelar!? What has become of Father?! I searched for nearly six summers!” She panted, moaning when the gaping wounds and scars along her back scraped the filth covered floor.

Cypress pressed her lips together in a tight line.

“I shall tell all, but not now, for I came set you free.”

“You cannot baby Cypress… they will kill you.”

“It would not be the first time I have bested death.” Cypress’s voice was forlorn for a moment, before her eyes flashed to the chains around Nanash’s wrists, taking a sorrowful note of her body’s bruised, filth covered form. “You must trust me Nanash, and do not move. What I am about to do will not kill you, this I swear on our Father’s soul. I am only a threat to my enemies now.”

“I would rather die by your hand than theirs.”

Cypress slowly nodded, and lifted her hand above the chains. Nanash heard the first oily drip fall from Cypress’s fingers, and paused her breath at the sizzling sound that followed.

“It is not as simple as breaking – melting – my chains…What of the guards?”

“They would not be the first life I have taken.” Cypress moved to her other wrist, careful to not lose site of the path in which her venom must flow, even as she cradled Nanash’s head carefully in her lap, continuing to pull the disease and poison from her.

“What has become of you?” Nanash’s voice trembled, sensing both hatred, fear, and loss in Cypress’s forlorn soul.

“…They all are together now.” She murmured, as she worked on her ankle.

Nanash slowly nodded, fighting the grief that threatened to break the only strength left in her, that of her heart.

“How is it you are here…?”

“Our father’s soul is mine to carry, and so it seems, his burden as well. I was taking a young boy and his sisters to the outer wall when I heard rumors of the lone Azustone who was set to be trialed for calling out a member of the lower Council. I thought it would have been Shakir.” Nanash ground her teeth, ignoring the pain at their many chips. “…He did not run away, Nanash. Do not ask me how I know this, because I cannot say. But that is all I know.”

“My mind is too weak to think…” Nanash whimpered.

The last of the chain broke.

“Time for my tale will be told later. Now, to get you to Iris.” Cypress forced a smile, and Nanash nearly wept at the transformation it played on her. The thought of seeing her mother, after so many months in the darkness, was the sweetest thing ever to touch her lips.

It was then that the outer door clanged, a dozen voices hammering nails into their skulls.

Cypress’s eyes narrowed, and suddenly Vaelar’s dagger appeared in her hand.

“Don’t!” Nanash pleaded, wishing she had the strength to rise.

“Let them come.” She hissed, her lips pulled over in a deathly sneer.

“No Cypress! I failed to protect you – do not let my life be your end! Get out – now! Please, for Kamara’s sake, flee! Do not return! You must go!”

Cypress bit her lip, tasting her poison form at the pounding footsteps.

“I will set you free, sister. I will burn the Stronghold to the ground if I must, but I will set you free. May the Moon watch over you.”

Nanash saw her reach into a small bag along her hip, and then with speed Nanash instantly recognized, Cypress was gone.

Nanash lifted her eyes, staring the Stronghold’s leader, soul to darkened soul. The Whitecrest Council spread to his right hand, each sitting closest to him by level of importance, his choice family members to his left. The great throne he rested on was defiled with ornaments and cushions. A silver crown, over seven hand’s length tall, sat on his head. Purple and red cloths, and countless animal pelts decorated the silver inlaid platform they so haughtily gazed down from, their faces of impassive anger.

Lamps and torches were lit around the wooden stage she had been secured to for the last hours, as the crowds grew, in expectation, awaiting the Council’s verdict. Today, it was to be decided. All of the surrounding Waterbound within the Stronghold’s Innersanctum gathered around her. She prayed that Cypress had heeded her warning, fleeing these damned walls. She cared not for her fate, only that those she loved would not suffer with her, that what was left of her Father’s soul would live on.

At the beat of three drums and the sound of three trumpets, the trial began.

Even as her clothes were stripped from her by black clad guards, and the many leather ties still clinging to her mangled flesh were cut away, leaving her vulnerable to their stares, she did not glance down. Her honor rested deeper than her skin. They could gaze at her all they wished, witnesses to the scars of beatings she had been dealt while under trial. They knew any Waterbound maiden would surely fracture under the shame of such handling, being the bruised object of thousands of thoughts, but she was not any maiden, and they were foolish to think she would surrender now, after the endless moon lives that she had been their prisoner.

“For the crimes of treason against Lord Whitecrest, for dishonoring your sisters with blasphemous acts and customs, for lying to the Council and seeking out those presumed dead, for abating convicted criminals, for breaking of Waterbound Law, for accusing falsely the acts of the Lower Council, and for denying Lord Maircos Whitecrest as your ultimate leader, you, Nanash Azustone, are hereby sentenced to direct punishment from Lord Whitecrest his holy self. You will have all Waterbound see the example you have set. Upon your arrival at the Stronghold, you made it your purpose to undermine our ways, and spread lies of our great and mighty leaders among your family and the Waterbound Nation. You spoke of Ancients and customs better left to the old days, you refused to surrender your right to the Moon – but rather continued to seek out the water on your own time. You did not pay tribute, nor did you vow your loyalty to our magnificent Council or your talents to their discretion. For these crimes, the wager is death. Unless you were to renounce your Pureblood Right, and be banished to the Outer Mountains, where Ancients and demons lie, or serve the Council for the rest of your life in any way our great Lord Whitecrest deems fit, your sentence is to be carried out by the whip and sun.” A small, twig of a man shouted, his voice betraying from one of such meager stature.

Nanash did not fear, though a cold sunk into her. She knew not what would become of her family; surely, the Whitecrests, if they had their way would do away with any remaining Azustone by the moon life’s end. Her sisters and their Crests were in peril, and there was nothing she could do.

The unforgiving eyes she stared into rose as Lord Whitecrest stood, his child of a wife with him.

“What say you, Nanash Azustone? Do you confess and vow to swear allegiance to the Whitecrest Council, living out your days within our order as penance for your crimes?” He said, and the man repeated his words in a booming declaration for all to hear. He raised his hands, his silver rod reaching towards her, as if to offer not grace, but another blow to her already bent bones.

“I would rather have my body rot on the earth and my soul refused by the moon, than live an hour as your slave.” She hissed, her secured wrists aching as they pulled her tighter in her shackles, spreading her until her back screamed and her legs hung limp. Still, she allowed not her face to move, for weakness was their power and damn them if she was to supply it. She caught her breath for a moment before screaming as loud as she could, “I will not renounce the great Brein Azustone’s blood! You may take my life, you may destroy my body, but you shall never take my name and my honor!”

“So be it.” He set his jaw.

The ties holding her upright became tighter, a hushed silence following. The barren, dirt ground was saturated with anticipation from the onlookers. Their wide, slanted eyes were a mixture of fear, guilt, and submission.

A drum sounded. She need not guess over what was to come.

“Father, forgive me.” She whispered, bloody tears streaming down her cut and torn face as the first burning, icy strike sliced open the back of her body. She bit her tongue, determined to face this fate with the strength of an Azustone, only to feel her throat constrict in a gasp as the cold pre-dawn air rushed against her wounds.

One. She thought, knowing the law too clearly for her own good. Forty, they were to cut her, before leaving her to be burned. No matter how still she held, as the whips beat her for the five and tenth time, her back arched, and in that mercifully pain free instant, she lost hold of the world.

It was over the throngs of jeering witnesses that Cypress first heard the drum sound, followed by three-sewn-whip whistle. Silence fell for a deathly moment, the world turning cold as she raced towards the platform. A single moan radiated towards her, and a man said “One.” Again, the shrill of the thin leather whips carved through the air, and with a gut wrenching lurch, Cypress knew, her sister’s body as well.

For every Waterbound she pushed past, another two stood in her way. Black tears threatened to break over her cheeks, pools of poison gathering in her mouth, her fingertips. Her smallness was both a blessing and a curse as she struggled forward. The watcher’s faces were all the same, some frightened, some disgusted, all engrossed with the blood that dripped between the wooden planks.

The man’s voice sang, almost happily, “Twenty.” 

Growling with rage, she reached the base of the platform, pulling her hood over her head. In gasping shouts of confusion, the crowds stepped back; fear laced the air and only when Cypress looked up, did she see why.

A thin black arrow protruded from the whip master’s broad, leather cased chest, silver blood dripping from the copper head. Seizing her moment, she lurched onto the first stage, mindful of her own inner injuries, climbing her way up until she stood next to the broken and torn, limp body of Nanash. Her hair was plastered to her shattered face, bits of her skin and back laying in a pool of shimmering blood around her. Silver snakes crawled from her hands, where the whip had caught her arms. Carvings as thick and deep as fingers laced over her, making her appear as an animal without its fur, though not red – but silver threatened to drown her.

Cypress bared her newly discovered fangs, snarling at the guards moving towards her. But the fear in the Council’s eyes was not hers. Their stares belonged to the massive male, who with only two strides had covered the short distance from him to the stage, and was now facing Cypress, who stood barely higher than his waist. Had his eyes glowed, she would have deemed his presence that of an Ancient.

A bow hung at his side.

With her babe’s knowing, Cypress saw him for who he was, and nodded. His surprise was only brief, the anguish and fury on his silver haloed face soon returning when his gaze moved to Nanash. Drawing a dagger from his forearm, he quickly cut her free, draping her carefully over his arms.

“You best leave, maiden, lest they get us all.” His rough voice was broken by Lord Whitecrest’s shout.

“How dare you defy my orders! Step down, or die!” 

“When the fire lights, I am going to jump onto your back, and you are going to run.” Cypress hissed. The man, seeing the determination and confidence in this unknown, tiny maiden’s glower, nodded, falling to his knees, his mouth set to Nanash’s, forcing air into her numb lungs, knowing it would be a endless while until they were safe enough to tend to her, and he dared not let her go now.

Cypress turned to the small lamp that had illuminated the whipping post, let the heat run over her fingers, and with precision only practice had granted her, spun in a circle. Drops of her poison rained down, igniting against the flames. It surrounded them, the blaze over five paces high, creating a wall between them and the Council’s guards. Heat battered against her skin, but she knew she was the least at risk, for now.

Screams rang out as the guards were rapidly engulfed. The Council cowered, fearing this unknown maiden and giant. Leaping onto his back, her arms around his neck, they ran. Using the black smoke to hide them, they escaped behind the fleeing crowd, his strides as fast as Etharren’s horse. They did not stop until the sun broke.

            It was unwillingly that she regained her mind, the slices along her back screaming in tune with her tongue when someone touched her. A damp cloth was placed in her mouth, and as she bit down, she tasted blood. Too tired to notice she was truly alive and somehow not dead beneath the sun, she had only briefly wondered who had braved its rays to save her.

            She thrashed beneath the flame-filled palm against her neck.

            “Oh my child,” her mother’s voice wept. “Do not move, be still.” Iris’s hands shook, causing Nanash more pain as she tried to bandage her wounds. Cold liquid was poured over her, and she heard Cypress order her mother to let her pass.

Her baby sister’s voice was comforting when she said close to her ear, “I am going to remove the poison from you Nanash…It will cause you great pain, I cannot help that, but if I do not, you will die by dawn…You very blood is tainted.” Nanash bobbed her head just slightly, only wanting to be free of this torture. She did not care if Cypress poisoned her on accident; it would end her suffering either way.

Cypress worked quickly, careful to hide her scars as she buried one hand beneath Nanash’s chest, the other on her neck. Her blood boiled and turned as thick as honey and hot as embers inside of her. Nanash screamed in agony, begging that they just kill her. Cypress, mindless to her own consequences, strengthened her flow, to spare her of the long minutes ahead. Even then, Nanash often slipped back into the darkness that surrounded but never consumed.

When she was done, she crawled away, tucking her hands within her dress as her body shook with the strain of holding so much so quickly. Venom spilled over her tongue, her nails, as she retreated.

Iris immediately began wrapping Nanash’s wounds. When the pain of moving her shattered muscles became too much, she faced the darkness, a welcome relief from the silvery torture she wallowed in.

            When she opened her eyes again, it was Cypress who sat before her. She felt a pallet beneath her wrapped torso. Her arms and legs were also bandaged. She was grateful to the many things her mother must have done to make her so numb. Only a heated pressure could be sensed beneath the hazy effects of the polices and remedies.

            “You…” Nanash accused in thanks. Cypress nodded, brushing the backs of her fingers to Nanash’s cheek. She held up a cup of ekas to her mouth, of which Nanash eagerly drank, quivering when the warmth trickled down her body. It healed the cuts in her throat and helped sharpen her pain-dulled mind. Cypress gave her another, its vapors granting her the strength to speak. “Please…what of Father?”

            “Soon Nanash… there are many things I must tell you. When you are well.” Cypress poured her another cup, and when it too was empty, she spoke again, “I swear to you my sister, your pain will not go unpunished.” Her voice was sure, her eyes, their father’s eyes, bringing burning tears to her own. Baby Cypress, only three days ago was feared dead, now, before Nanash, her life a credit to hers.

            “You stopped…them.” Nanash feared now, for Cypress, but did not see the evidence she had been trained to look for in the child, present in the woman. There was no sign that Cypress had poisoned herself.

            “I merely, if fatefully, arranged our escape.” The smile that cracked Cypress’s ever solemn, white curtained face led Nanash’s exhausted and barely coherent mind to wonder. Then she saw appear from behind her sister a man on his knees, for the fact that he would not be able to stand in the low ceiling. His white brow was rutted with worry and fear, silver hair pulled behind his head; his clear green eyes meeting hers with the weight of a thousand memories behind their grief filled stare.

            Winter struck her with an unforgiving gale.

            “Zeronu.” She panted in disbelief, then grimaced at the pain breathing left her with.

“He shot an arrow through the heart of the monster than did this to you. Had Maircos not been enchanted, he would have ended him as well.” Cypress said, almost smugly, Nanash thought. “You are safe.” She swore, before she stood, leaving them alone.           

            “I had a good teacher.” He whispered, leaning closer to her. She felt his massive hand gently cradle hers. Tears rolled over his cheeks, as her lips quivered with words she could not speak. “Nanash, forgive me,” he pleaded, “for not finding you sooner…for not saving you…” He could not finish, staring into her silver-shot eyes with guilt that would kill a lesser man.

            “You waited.” She gasped, the excruciating burning along her body as she stirred to speak clearer now meaningless. Her pain and his grief were meaningless in the wake of what might be true.

            “I did.” He swore, holding her hand faintly tighter. “I knew not your presence here, till I learned it was I that must save you,” he smiled slightly, in prayers that it would comfort her in some way, “and soon, you’ll be able to finish all that you taught me.”

She wished to laugh, to cry, to do anything but lie in her brokenness before him. The young girl he had once sworn his heart to was all so willing to believe him now, the promises of a boy now replaced with the vows of a man.

Seeing her distress, he rested his palm to the side of her face least broken, his fingers in her coiled hair. His cool touch sent a shiver down her, her body surprised it could still feel anything pleasant at all.

“Shh, not now. Time will heal you, and time will give us what fate took from us in our youth. Rest Nanash, and do not fear.”

           

Cypress watched from the doorway for a few minutes, pleased to see smile after smile cast over her sister’s silver scarred face at the hushed whispers he gave her. The sight of Zeronu touching her brow with his lips made Cypress long for Etharren.

“Who is he?” Iris demanded, irate that Baby Cypress would dare command her to leave Nanash be, regardless of the fact she had slept for days only to awake now, and would not so much as allow her to look into the much too silent room. She had thought this strange giant to be with Cypress, an unknown comrade, but it seemed now his loyalty was to her daughter.

She did not trust him. She trusted no one. Even her sisters-in-his-crest were losing sight or hiding.

“Tell me Iris, when she returned with Father from her first venture here, did her heart not silently sing the praises of a boy?”

“…It can’t be.” Iris stammered.

“I can assure you with wisdom our father grants me, that this man is to be trusted wholly with Nanash, and that she will live. As for myself, I will return in three nights. Rally all of our family that you can, on my return I need to speak with them.”

“Baby Cypress you cannot-”

“I am no longer a baby, Iris. I watched Kamara burn at the stake on the whims of humans who deemed her a demon, and today saw nearly a worse fate for Nanash by our own kind for speaking truth amid a fog of lies. By my Mother’s honor and her blood, I will not allow this council to stand. Unite my sisters and yours at once, for there is much I need know. My time is limited and I refuse to waste it speaking when action is needed.” Cypress paused only long enough to see Iris’s stunned acceptance, and then went to fetch her things. Packing more food and blankets, she waited until the morning, when the sun was high enough to burn anyone who might follow her, and then raced towards the hills with Kamara’s speed, the only place the wall had not reached. It was only ten hours later when she sensed him.

“Etharren!” she called, and smiled in joy when she heard him running towards her. Sweeping her against him, he held her tightly, burying his face in her hair. She smelled his dying fear, and after a long moment pushed away to see that he had been without sleep for days.

“I saw the smoke.” He choked, crushing her to him once more. She needed not known anymore as to where his thoughts had gone. Turning her head, she comforted him. He took her back in his palms, pressing her to him.

“Shhhh my love… there is much I need tell you.”

“We will speak as we flee. Hurry while there is still light-”

“I cannot.” She whispered, ducking her eyes from his stunned, wounded expression.

“You left me for nearly a week Cypress, and I knew not if you lived, only to return and leave once more, and now you mean to tell me-”

“The council whipped Nanash to the brink of death.” She growled, her lips pulling over her teeth, though her fangs did not protrude. Yet.

His mind flashed back to the painting of her sister, proud, noble, and the many things Cypress had told him of her.

“What occurred?”

“It seems I have an ally here, for when I went to set her free, a boy now man she had known came to our aid.”