I've been polishing on this for too long. I hope anyone interested hasn't given up altogether. I will try to pick up the pace again from now on - work and life permitting. If you need to read up on what has happened in previous chapters, check out the filter on the right side. Do leave a comment. I appreciate feedback. To those who have waited patiently for this - enjoy.
The Thing hall was a large, solid construction of a stone and wood frame and a high roof. It had gables carved with horse heads and other wild beasts.
Joana had been taken to the stables where the horses of the royal guests were also kept. Evidently the men that had brought her here, Grimrun's henchmen, were under strict orders not to harm her. Their sidelong glances spoke an entirely different language. They carried an intense mixture of resentment, scorn and ... fear? Why, Joana wondered. Why would these strangers feel so strongly towards her?
In a stall at the very back of the dusky building they had tied her to a ring in the wall. The smell of horses and horse dung was strong in her nostrils. Once in a while one of the animals in the other stalls stamped or snorted. Other than that it was quiet. A guard had been set outside the booth. He spent his time leaning against the back wall of the building watching her every move with a weary expression. With no more curses and hardly any voice left Joana had slumped against the wall onto a pile of straw and resigned to staring into space. The rope around her wrists did not give her enough slack to even reach the front of the stall. In fact, it hardly allowed her to lie herself down fully on her bedding.
That smug grin on his face! It seemed to hover before her eyes in the dimness of the building. Her last attempt at vanquishing her opponent had failed. She might have frightened him for a moment, true, but in the end she had stood no chance. He had prevailed. And how satisfied he had looked when they had dragged her away. At least she had not given up when she had still been free to choose! Vucara had been right.
But now the wolf was gone, too. Quietly as usual Vucara had disappeared. That much she had gathered from her captors' conversations on her way here. The wolf had escaped but a lot of men were searching for her. She prayed that Vucara had made it out of Tramir to the relative safety of the forest. There did not seem to be much left she could have achieved by staying. In broad daylight and without the element of surprise Grimrun's armed henchmen would not be easy to overcome. And whether the dogs of Tramir would help again after they had felt the men's clubs and axes was doubtful.
Joana tried to rest while there was time. To steel herself for whatever fate awaited her. Despite the fatigue, however, her thoughts kept grinding round and round like the wheel of a mill. Walking into Grimrun's trap had been stupid. Yet she could not have ignored the suffering of those wolves. Grimrun had exploited that. Then what, if anything, could she have done differently? How could an enemy be brought down that did not shy away from using any means necessary? Was she too soft for such a contest? She was reminded of the grim satisfaction of slaying the men at the camp in the woods. She had triumphed then. And how about the innkeeper today, a brute like him, had he not deserved his fate? Had it not felt good to deliver his judgement to him, to become the hand of Tyr? But had she really intended to? This time there had been no need to slay him outright. And had it been up to her at all? Had father not tought her that only his God, had the right to judge? Now she was at the mercy of Grimrun's judgement, regardless of what monster he was. So the thoughts kept orbiting her mind like mosquitos their sleeping victim. And above all of them, closeby yet untouchable, hovered that face with its sharp nose and its piercing eyes, and that voice that had taken away hers.
Joana spent most of the day like this, staring morosely at nothing in particular. She hardly noticed that the guard's relief arrived, how the men spoke in hushed voices, shot her glances as you might a beautiful but vicious animal. As time passed that relief was then relieved in turn. She hardly noticed that nobody brought her any food and she was only dimly aware of her hunger. When the third relief arrived and she could see the sun was setting outside the girl began to stir. She tried to call out to the men as they chatted but words would still not come to her. Then she tried the other ones. Those came easier. Before this morning she had never used them on other humans. They stared at her. She could see from their eyes that they understood. The looks were not entirely those of men confident they dealt with a helpless girl. They made hasty signs of warding off evil. What had Grimrun told them, Joana wondered. She called again, more demanding this time.
"Shuddup", one of the men slurred in return. There was threat in his voice but also a tremor of something else. "Master Grimrun said not to talk to yer, so talk we won't."
She called again, demanded to eat. Hunger was beginning to sting after a whole day of fasting and exertion. They made more signs and retreated to the front of the building where she could not see them. She shouted for them angrily, challengingly a few times but received no more reply. She sank back onto her bed. Had Grimrun resolved to let her starve after all his troubles?
Joana guessed the sun had gone down completely when she became aware of raised voices outside the door. The stable was entirely dark. Her wrists and shoulders ached from being tied up all day and her hands had gone numb. And not only her hands. She was stiff all over and felt utterly exhausted but, what was more, the fury of the morning had given way to lethargy. Whoever it was that wanted to see her, whatever they wanted to do, it hardly mattered to her anymore.
Then the door was opened and the voices became clearer.
"She's dangerous, Master Grimrun says", the guard warned. Joana could almost see the simple man making another warding sign. "The Master says not to let anyone see her."
"I am not anyone", the other voice replied sternly. That voice. Had she not heard it before? "I can handle myself. You just keep guarding the door."
Of course, she knew that voice. The slightly haughty tone of someone used to command. She had heard it first in the forest years ago. Over the cooling carcass of a grey wolf. Never had Joana imaged she might ever less than detest the voice and its owner should she hear it again.
"Bring a light", Prince Toben called out. "Black as Hel in here."
There were hasty footsteps and flickering, redish light licked at the darkness surrounding her. A few moments later the prince stepped into view in front of her. Joana squinted at the sudden brightness of the flame of the torch he was holding. The other hand carried a wrapped bundle. He had taken off the armour he had still worn in the morning but was wearing a fine vest and his travelling cloak against the chill of the evening. His sword was now strapped to his belt.
Without a word he laid the bundle down, slipped the torch into an iron wall mounting. He drew a dagger from its sheath at the hip. Without knowing why she recoiled at the sight. He knelt next to her. Her eyes were still fixed on the blade. When he brought the blade up it was to cut her bonds. She was not sure what she had expected.
"Hold still, silly girl", he muttered with a hint of amusement in his voice, "I haven't made this long way to hurt you."
When she was free he motioned to the oilskin bundle. "You'll need your hands for that."
He sat back against the wall and let her unwrap the bundle. It held half a loaf of bread, nuts, cheese and a few scraps of smoked meat. She began eating hungrily though she never took her watchful eyes off him. He regarded her for a while from his position across the stall from her. When she began to slow down he finally spoke.
"How have you been treated?"
Whatever Grimrun had done to her still denied her the words in the tongues mother and father had taught her. She was getting more used to using True Speech, however, and those words came easy enough breaking through his enchantment.
"Worse than a prisoner waiting for her execution but better than the wolves you saw on the square." She squeezed the words out between mouthfuls. In her state they did not sound as sarcastic as she had intended.
He nodded. It was working behind his face, she could see. He was trying to make sense of what he was hearing. There was no apprehension as with Grimrun or his men. It was more a kind of wonder that showed on his features. Being the man he was he did not acknowledge it. Especially not to a girl like her. Instead he tried to sound encouraging: "To be honest, some have demanded your execution but they have not prevailed yet."
She had expected as much but there was still a sting of fright at the word "execution". Suddenly there was a hard lump in her throat and she no longer felt so hungry.
After a pause he went on: "My name and my word carry surprisingly little weight here. So I am unsure whether it was my protest or their Oracle Grimrun's silence that has stayed their hand for now."
The name made her grimace. "He plays them well", she whispered darkly, as much to herself as to him.
Toben's stare became intent. "Is it true? Did you kill that man?"
"Did you come here to interrogate me, my lord?"
Taken aback he frowned. Then the frown dissolved and he even smiled to himself. "I forgot who I am talking to. The girl with the tongue sharp as a knife." He looked her in the eye then and to her surprise she found no mockery in his gaze. "Frankly, Joana, I have been told some monstrous tales about you and about what has transpired this morning. I have come hoping to learn the truth. Because I refuse to believe that the daughter of Iacobus would kill a man, much less so without good reason."
She turned a gnawed off chunk of bread in one hand as if comparing it to a similar lump of cheese in the other. Despite his words he had not given her a knife to cut off slices. Over these two items she studied the prince. He appeared genuine. There was no sense of deceit around him. His gaze rested on her easily now without staring but also without straying. Then again what did she know of Grimrun's capabilities? Or what of Toben's intentions?
"They beat them to death, the wolves." She shuddered at the memory. Her voice dropped to hardly more than a hoarse whisper. "It was terrible. I wanted to make them stop. I threw the spear. I meant to scare the man, not kill him. The spear went further than I expected." As she spoke the scraps of memory seemed to slide into place. The scene had been playing in her head scores of times but now it made sense.
"Wolves again", he mused. "How is it that every time we meet a wolf is involved?" There was a twinkle in his eye. Joana did not smile, just stared at him coldly for a while. His jest had taken away much of the warmth she had felt at his coming.
His smile faded. After a pause he pursed his lips looking pensive for a while. "An accident won't be easy to explain to an enraged Thing. Tell me, Joana, how came you by the spear in the first place? You disappeared from your father's tent and now I find you here, dressed and armed like a warrior, accused of having slain a man, even rumoured to be the accomplice or consort of a -" He gestured vaguely.
Joana sank back against the wall of the stable. She felt that helpless anger rise up again. Grimrun's lies had gotten to the prince, as well. Then again, what had she expected? She stifled a curse.
"Do you believe what they say, my lord", she eventually replied with bitterness.
He shrugged a little helplessly. "Everybody here believes it. They would swear by it if they had to. Your father is a man in good standing with the king. Then again simple folk will believe many things. Even I must concede, however, you associate more with beasts than with men."
He trailed off.
"The truth will be harder still to believe, my lord. You would only laugh at me and call me a silly girl again."
"Let me be the judge of what I believe and what not", he returned. There was the cocky young prince again who had claimed to have rescued her.
She nodded. "As you wish."
Then she began cautiously recounting the events of the last two weeks. Had it only been a fortnight? It seemed to her as if a lifetime had passed since the beginning of her journey. She felt like an entirely different person now. Each step of the way had left its mark on her - inside or out. Haltingly she began at the sacking of Kremitz and her escape. She tried to describe the leader of the attackers in detail but at that point details seemed blurry already. Had she really gotten a good lock at him? She had been so sure his features resembled those of the new oracle of Tramir. But now ... Could she have been mistaken? She clenched her fists. Slowly, with each word of True Speech the images became clearer. Was he messing with her mind? Had he the power? With sheer effort of will she pushed forward. At the encounter with Vucara she hesitated. Something inside cautioned her to omit it. In a low voice she related the encounter watching his face intently. There was no mirth in his eyes. He was listening carefully. When she came to her abduction from her father's tent he looked grim and nodded to himself. Father ... Finally, she arrived at her meeting with Berengar, their fight against Grimrun and his men, her desperate flight and, at last, her capture in the morning. There was a silence as he visibly took in her words, digested them.
"You have quite a story to tell." He shook his head in bafflement. "I'll tell you, if any man had related me a tall tale like this and expected me to believe it I would have called him a liar or worse for insulting me and thus abusing my trust."
Joana just stared at him. She had sunk back against the wall, feeling exhausted and empty. Her tale was out. At least, for that she felt relieved. He had listened and she could expect little more.
"I warned you it would be hard to believe. That does not make me a liar."
The prince studied her in the gloom. The torch had burned low. His face was serious now. Thoughts were still sinking in. Not for the first time Joana found herself caressing her mother's ring. Eventually the prince broke his silence. His voice seemed far away.
"I dare not say you are. Something tells me there is more to you than meets the eye." He hesitated. "I have seen what you are capable of. And I have not forgotten."
She remembered the look he had given her then when the wolf had answered her.
"That wolf companion you speak of - I think they are looking for it."
Hope flared up in Joana's heart. If they were still looking that meant that there was a chance that Vucara had eluded them again and was still alive.
"You worry about this wolf a lot", he observed. Still there was no amusement in his voice now.
"What about my father", Joana broke her silence. The question had been on her mind since she had thought about his tent.
The prince regarded her gravely. "After you disappeared he was not the same. He is hardly seen eating or leaving his tent of late. Apateus is in charge of the build now. He is the only one your father speaks to. Apateus says that grief has made him ill."
A blade to the heart could not have hurt more. Joana stared at him numbly. She was clutching the ring on her finger - the only thing left of her family.
"Gods damn him", she whispered, "he'll have destroyed father, too."
"Rest assured, Joana, I will send word to Iacobus that his daughter lives and will be taken home safely. And if we can find proof of what you say of this Grimrun then the traitor and murderer will be brought to justice." His intentions were honest, she realised. He said what he believed was expected of him. From the way he said the words with a confident smile across his features they sounded like something he had heard from a story. He had also never asked whether she wanted to be taken home.
"I thank you for your kindness, my lord", she answered politely.
"Thank me when it is done. I will speak to the Thing on your behalf. Until then I will forbid them to lay hands on you."
She smiled weakly. Maybe he meant well. But he failed to realise that Grimrun had had ample chance to harm her. That was something that had come to her in the quiet dimness of this day in the stable. His henchman had told her Grimrun wanted his prize unspoilt.
"I think he wants me for something, my lord", she uttered her thoughts, "he will suffer noone to lay hands on me."
He frowned considering this. When he spoke again there was a hint of disapproval. Was he offended that his protection was not needed?
"Have you any idea what he might want you for? Surely in a man his age the carnal desires should have subsided."
She almost laughed at him. Was it so difficult for men to see a woman other than an oracle as anything else but an object of their lust? Still, the truth was she did not know for certain what Grimrun wanted her for. She could only guess it had something to do with her new-found abilities.
She replied: "For now I can only guess, my lord. But if Berengar is right about what Grimrun really is then who among men may understand his true motives?."
He snorted. A little haughtily this time he said: "I am not yet prepared to resort to ancient local supestitions. If he did what you aledge then he is merely a dangerous madman. And small wonder: There's something unnatural about a man sorcerer anyway. No need to make him a spawn of Loki."
Joana bit her tongue. There was no point in arguing. The prince had not seen Grimrun the way she had. He had in fact no reason to believe anything she had said. It was a small wonder he had listened to her this far.
Satisfied that his self-appointed charge was safe and fed the prince took his leave. They would be waiting for him. He called the guard outside and commanded him in harsh words to tie the prisoner but give the rope more slack so she could rest. After some grumbling the man obeyed. Then with the promise to return soon the prince made his exit and Joana was left alone in the dark again. Occasionally one of the horses stamped or snorted in its dream. For her sleep was still a long way away.
Joana could not tell how long she had spent in uneasy slumber. Had she dreamed? A deep rumbling voice seemed to resound in her head. Something had startled her. From the utter darkness and silence that surrounded her she guessed it was still night outside. What then had awakened her? She could hear the deep breathing of the animals. But there was something else. Joana gave a start when she noticed the two shimmering pin pricks piercing the night. They were similar in kind to Vucara's eyes but their colour was that of a deep red sunset. They winked. Involuntarily Joana shrank back further against the wall.
"Who's there?" The girl tried in vain to hide the slight quavering of her voice.
There was a rustling of heavy furs. The points of light seemed to settle a little nearer.
"Are you afraid, Speaker?" His harsh rasp of a voice cut through the silence not so much like a knife but like an axe. Or was it that the throat that uttered the words was not fit for the sounds it produced? There was a palpable presence in the room with her that exceeded that of a man. Of course, she recognised the voice. Its sound had etched itself into her memory. She was afraid of this man-beast. Her heart beat like a drum, so loud she was sure he could hear it any way. But she would not give him the satisfaction! She swallowed but her mouth was dry.
"What do you want? Have you come to admire your prize when I'm bound and helpless? Are you afraid to even strike a light?" Her voice was still not fully under her control. So her taunts came out as a hoarse whisper.
He chuckled. It sounded like shaking rocks in a bucket. "You're a feisty little one", he rasped in the inky blackness, "but you will soon learn some respect for your masters."
In a tone almost too deep to hear Grimrun chanted a few syllables. With a chill Joana realised that he was using a crude form of True Speech. His accent was awkward and the snippets made no sense to her but they were True Speech nonetheless. As he chanted there was a scratching sound and suddenly the scene was lit by a glow as of smouldering ambers. The light emmanated from the rune S scratched into the earth.
He was perched opposite her on a stool huddled in his furs. His hood was cast back and a wolfish smile, teeth bared under narrow lips made his features appear even sharper. His eyes still gleamed reddish in their sockets. That hated face looked just like it had lit up by the flames of burning Kremitz. Joana clenched her fists. No fear, she told herself. He did not deserve it.
"If you've come to kill me then just get on with it and make it quick. I will not beg you for your mercy."
Her defiance made his smile draw wider making it nearly reptilian.
"I will not kill you. You have not exceeded your usefulness yet. I wanted to see the girl that has killed so many of my warriors and who they have begun to fear as the 'Tamer of Beasts'."
"Are you satisfied, Zmeu?" She poured all her disdain into these words. "Will you now finally tell me what you want from me?"
"Zmeu?" His voice was raised in wonder and amusement. His gaze never left hers, probing her. "Who put that into your head? Berengar?"
"He told me enough. He told me what you really are", she spat. Rising anger made he voice quaver now. He was merely toying with her.
"That ignorant child", came the reply with a disdainful snort, "has lost his mind and knows nothing of what he speaks. He's wrong, so wrong. Fortunately, he is no longer able to spread his nonsense any further. You really do seem to understand nothing", he mused. "I wonder if you really are as clueless as you let on. What he sees in you I do not know. You certainly do not look so mighty from up close."
"I am neither mighty nor powerful", Joana returned through gritted teeth, "but I am not alone."
"Oh yes, your four-legged friends out there." He looked concerned for a moment, then the smirk returned. "Rest assured, Speaker, I have not forgotten them. They will be dealt with like the others. There are plans in motion whose scope by far exceeds the significance of your little 'family' - or even you."
This time Joana struggled furiously against her bonds. Her voice came as a low growl. She was trembling with pure anger now.
"Gods damn you! You will pay for what you have done! I will destroy you!"
His eyes narrowed at this and the smile left his face. "Shout your threats now", he spoke as if her curses had slid right off him. "When he is through with you, you will see things differently." He rose to leave.
Joana was seething. "I don't care what kind of monstrosities you throw at me, Grimrun. I will have your head!"
There was a choking sound from her enemy. The red eyes widened. He steadied himself with a quick step. When he spoke again his voice seemed shaken though he made an effort to control it.
"You", he snarled. "You will do nothing of the sort. You will remain silent until spoken to."
Joana felt the tendrils of his command creep up on her. They extended into her mind. The back of her neck, where he had scratched her, grew warm. Again she felt the words drain away from her as if the groping fingers of his will had pulled a stopper. The blanket of his mind was suffocating. Then she thought of the words she used to speak with Vucara. Like a fresh breeze they blew at the settling whisps of fog. In her mind she pushed back wrestling with the imposing thoughts. They were slippery, however, and wafted back quickly.
"Get out ... of my head." She forced out a furious scream.
He gasped. This time her enemy's voice sounded shaken but dripped with contempt.
"Uppety brat. You think you have power because you can break a simple command. When we don't need you anymore you will end the same way Berengar did."
With a swipe of his foot he erased the rune and darkness poured back.
"Slain by cowards in the night", she shot back blindly in his direction, "like Kremitz?! Because you were scared to face them alone?"
She heard a rustle of heavy furs as he turned. Then retreating footsteps.
"Come here and face me like a man, you monster", Joana shouted after him. "Do you fear a mere woman?"
The door crashed shut. He was gone. Joana slumped back against the stable wall. She tried to adjust her position so as not to put too much weight on her aching arms. Her heart still hammered out the quick pace of a war drum in her chest but her thoughts were galoping in her head. Had she really shaken him off? She could not utter a word in her mother's tongue but for the second time he had failed to silence her. What had Vucara likened True Speech to - a force of nature itself? Could this be the tool - the weapon - to destroy her enemy? And Berengar had said something, too. Had he not told her to ask about the power of - what? And even the dream! She had dreamed about a terrifying adversary. It had spoken to her. What had it said? She tried to remember. Like most dreams it now seemed so remote and indistinct and difficult to grasp. It had said ...
She was climbing a steep slope. The ground was rocky with patches of thin-bladed grass. Moss clung to the rocks here and there. She felt it soft between her fingers as she steadied herself with her hands on the way. The air was silent. Not even bugs buzzed here. Looking around in the light of a countless multitude of stars, she beheld lands that were vast and empty, devoid of any signs of inhabitants. Craggy mountains with bare slopes similar to the one she was on surrounded her as far as the eyes could peer. The sky was ablaze but earth was shrouded in shadows. No wind stirred her hair or chilled her ascent. She could hear herself breathe, could almost hear her own heart pound in her chest. Then Joana scaled the top edge of the incline. The scene that panned out before her was enough to silence her breathing, as well.
The mountain slope levelled out at this point and formed an open plateau. At the far end gaped the enormous maw of a cave entrance, lined with sharp stalagtites like teeth of stone. It was not the scenery, however, that gave Joana pause. All around the flatened space animals of all sorts - both known and unknown to her - had gathered. They sat on the rocks above the cave and on the slope leading up and even on the level ground hidden behind rocks. Joana spotted creatures as small as a finch and as big as a stag. She spotted wolves cowering alongside wide-eyed deer and birds perched on the back of a lynx. None paid her any heed but gazed intently toward the centre of the natural arena. At the same time they all seemed on edge as if prepared to jump for cover and hide at any time. She had unwittingly stumbled upon an unusual battleground. Two unmatched opponents faced each other off as the creatures looked on without a sound. On her side, glittering white in the moonlight was a beast of the stature of a horse but much more slender and taller. Its limbs seemed unnaturally long but still its every movement radiated strength and grace that were not of this earth. Its mane and tail flowed and rippled as of their own accord like cascades of liquid silver, sparkling under the stars. And there was stuff like feathers on its ancles. Opposite this fragile thing towered a monster with the body of a serpent and the squat legs of a lizard. Its bulk, pressed close to the ground, was so long it covered almost the whole breadth of the plateau and its tail ended just short of the pitch blackness of the cavern. Its eyes glowed deep red like smouldering coals and its jaws were lined with sharp teeth that shimmered slickly. Slowly the two circled each other. Joana had never seen a horse move like a predator, with such smooth elegance, cautious yet tense, ready to spring. All the while the great serpent's head turned and its body heaved and coiled to face its opponent with its terrifying gaze and teeth while at the same time presenting it with the armoured flanks of its bulk.
When the silvery creature's face came into view Joana's breath caught in her throat for the second time. The features were long as that of a horse or an ass, its ears long and cupped with feathery tufts at their ends. On its forehead the creatures bore a single horn that curved ever so gently backwards. Joana stared at this apparition with her eyes and mouth agape. The Romans had believed it existed, her father had even seen it mentioned in his holy scripture. Still, to see one standing there was a different matter. The unicorn flowed around its titanic adversary and the serpent turned with it, their eyes locked. Sometimes one or the other would flinch or quiver as if a fierce struggle was going on unbeknownst to the onlookers.
The serpent made the first move. Its head shot forward and around its opponent and from its mouth roared forth a stream of fire, blindingly bright in the darkness around them. Joana could feel the searing heat even where she was cowering. The unicorn sprang clear and to the side. Following, the flames swept the ground but again the unicorn evaded them with ease. The dragon reared its head sucking in a new breath, rekindling the abating flames. Now the unicorn charged. Its hooves beating out its fierce challenge, its horn lowered like a footman's lance it covered the distance that separated the two. With a crack the horn broke through the dragon's scales and dug itself deep into its shoulder. The lindwurm shuddered, recoiled but uttered only a deep growl that Joana could feel rather than hear in the pit of her stomach. The lindwurm snapped at the silver beast's fragile form but it quickly retreated out of reach. Again and again the dragon gave blasts of flame chasing the unicorn this way and that across their battleground. And again and again the unicorn charged piercing the great body of its opponent with its gleaming horn. It was like trying to bring down an ox with pricks from a knitting needle. The lindwurm bled from dozens of pricks leaving a trail of dark splotches but the injuries seemed to only increase its wrath. With fire and teeth it cornered the unicorn. The attacks had been feints, Joana realised, when a wide sweep of the dragon's tail caught the unicorns flank with a thud. The slap sent it hurtling through the air. Still, with the nimbleness of a cat it flipped around in midair and landed on its cloven hooves just short of the steep slope. It came to a skidding halt not far from where Joana was hiding, scattering scraps of moss, earth and broken rock.
That moment the unicorn turned its long head and looked straight at the only human onlooker. Time seemed to halt. Its eyes, in contrast to the rest of its appearance, were utterly black like two shiny orbs of jet. Watch closely, the eyes said to her, she could almost hear the words form in her head. The battle you face is no less terrible than this. Joana was bewildered. The intensity of the gaze and the meaning it carried were nearly more than she could bear. Despair gripped her heart with its cold questing arms. How could she succeed where even this mythical, magical creature was beaten down? She quickly looked away. The unicorn had not stirred. The lindwurm was lurking behind it motionlessly. Had there not been pillars of carved stone lining this space, Joana wondered. She was not sure where the thought had come from. The more she looked the more familiar the place seemed to her. Joana, daughter of Iacobus! The unicorn stamped a hoof and a rock underneath was split cleanly in two. It knew her name. Fear is the whetstone of the spirit but desperation is a constricting snake. Fear your enemy but let it not strangle you. Ere the end your power will be greater than his.
Just at that moment a round full moon emerged from behind the horizon, dimming the stars around it with its radiance. This moon seemed larger than Joana had ever seen it. In the light of its beams the unicorn shone and sparkled bright like the heavenly body itself. It reared up on its hind legs. The dragon tensed, its tail flicking excitedly. It drew a deep breath. Then the unicorn spoke. In a voice as clear as a mountain spring yet as hard as the chrystals in the mountain's bowels it spoke words that were swallowed by the thundering of its hooves. It charged. The dragon hesitated, seemed to deflate, lowered its terrifying head as if in resignation. Like a blazing bolt of lightning the unicorn covered the distance between them. They met with a crash. The lindwurm's head was flung around and back. Then its entire body sagged to one side. The unicorn stood firm. Its horn was embedded full length in the soft spot beneath the dragon's jaw.
When the lindwurm's body had stopped twitching the unicorn withdrew and its opponent's head slumped to the ground. Joana had expected the animals, all the watching creatures, to show some reaction at the monster's demise. They did not. None even came forward to acknowledge the victor. They simply, quietly scattered, creeping away into the night. The unicorn paid them no heed. It was again looking straight at its human spectator. You are not alone, the eyes intoned. I am watching you.
"I am Ebek."
Joana was once again startled from sleep. In the gloom of the building she was still unable to discern if dawn had finally arrived outsite. Then who had spoken? She backed against the wall. Her wrists and shoulders stung at the smallest motion and her hands felt huge and swollen, each finger as supple as a turnip. Her whole body was stiff and ached.
"Who's there", she mumbled.
Had her nemesis returned to taunt her further?
There was a little tug at bonds. It was followed shortly by another one.
Then a voice squawked above her head: "But I've told you already. How many times are you going to ask?"
She ducked involuntarily. How could this somebody be above her? The image of Grimrun scaling the wall like a huge, bloated spider shot past her mind's eye. There was no telling what powers her opponent might have to top the ones he had demonstrated. But as the words echoed in her head the voice did not match. It was higher, raspy but not harsh and where Grimrun felt large this one was somehow a small voice. What had it said earlier? She tried to clear the cobwebs of drowsiness out of her mind. Ebek? She voiced the question.
"You certainly are the first creature I have met that can hold a conversation in her sleep", quipped the other.
There was another series of quick tugs. Joana twisted around while at the same time trying to feel with her hands what it was that was manipulating her bonds. There was a noisy flapping of wings and a sudden whiff of air brushed her hands.
"Hold still, will you", the voice croaked a little vexed. "This is not easy work even without you fussing around."
Joana's apology came out by itself. She had never been rebuked by a bird, for bird it must be, she figured. Furthermore, if the little creature had wanted to harm her it had had ample time for that while she had been sleeping. More pecking at her wrists followed but Ebek kept quiet for a while until he finally muttered: "Curses, where's a set of sharp teeth when you need one?"
He went on labouring for a while in silence, then: "For crying out loud, how do you even make these things this hard. Tearing at a dead sheep is easier than this."
Joana did not respond. Exhaustion was upon her again. She was sure that she had dosed off a couple of times while Ebek hacked and clipped and muttered indignantly. When had been the last time she had just lain down and slept a whole night? It sure felt like ages ago. A few more nights like this and she might just surrender to Grimrun whatever it was he wanted from her.
"There. Pull." She had fallen asleep again and started at something hard and cold tapping her hand. Was that a sliver of morning light that pierced the gloom? Joana pulled at the ropes though she felt there was not much strength in her. Nothing happened.
There was a croak above her like from a crow. Several sharp pecks and jerks followed. She gave a yelp when something nipped at her skin but Ebek took no notice. Then: "Now pull harder."
Joana gave it everything she had left. The rope snapped and she rolled forward on the straw. Blood rushed back into her hands and arms. They prickled and stung as if set upon by a swarm of angry bees. For a while Joana just lay there rubbing her limbs back to life. Finally, she rose to her feet unsteadily and staggered the three paces to the end of her stall. She had been right, shafts of grey dawn feel through cracks in the door. It was just enough to outline a large black blotch surely the size of a chicken perched on a beam above her. It stirred.
"So, what's the plan?"
Joana hesitated. Somewhere in the fog of her mind she realised that she did not have one. Would the door be bolted? Surely it would be. And there had been guards.
She haltingly picked her words: "How many are there outside?"
"Many", came the bewildered answer, "a whole town."
Joana swallowed the impatient reply. He was not human. How would a bird know that two men outside the door were guards while other people living here had nothing to do with her. Instead, she said carefully, pointing at the door: "Out there. Did you see anybody outside this house that may be guarding it?"
Ebek seemed to give this some thought.
"Two."
Two guards, bolted door and a whole town that would be on the lookout for her. Joana slumped against the support beam next to her and swore under her breath. She wished her head would clear up. One day in the future a herbalist would concoct a potion that cleared your head of fatigue and she would live on it.
"Is there another way out of this building?"
The shade that was Ebek cocked its head.
"Not for someone your size that can't fly."
Joana had not expected so. If Tramir lacked a dungeon they had surely chosen this place to imprison her in for a reason. She stumbled back to her bed of straw and sank down on it. The gates would be closed, too, it occurred to her. Even if she did manage to break out of her immediate prison the town of Tramir was just another, albeit larger, confinement. A thought began to take shape. She shrugged her shoulders - it was as good a plan as any. It might even work. She told Ebek.
"Wait 'til somebody comes in here by themselves, beat the living daylights out of them, run like the wind", he summed it up. "It's not exactly a fox of a plan but you might survive it."
Good enough. The bird had no better suggestion to offer. It sounded like a better chance she had had in a while. At least now she had time to think about it. In the waxing light of morning Joana quietly searched the stalls around hers. The one opposite was completely empty. The one adjacent to hers held a large, powerful horse, the kind to put to work on a field or ride into battle - she could not tell which. A saddle rested on the dividing wall to the next stall. The animal was sleeping or at least made no move when she inspected the stall. She dared not extend her search closer to the door for fear of being surprised by a guard coming in. Even from where she was now mens' voices could be heard outside. So, the guards were awake though she could not make out what they were saying nor how many there were. More than one for sure.
There was nothing that could be used as a weapon. The only movable items she could reach were the saddle and the iron shod bucket the guards had set grinning into her stall. It would have to do. There was only this one chance.
Joana rubbed her eyes. Rest would be the logical thing to do but her heart beat with anticipation like a war drum. Ebek fluttered and ruffled his feathers. The bird was restless, too.
"Why are you helping me", she asked the bird half out of interest, half to while the wait away.
Ebek looked down at her from his perch, cawed.
"You are the chosen one, the Truespeaker, the Wyrdvoice", he replied as if this was already reason enough. Then he continued: "You fight a great evil, fight maybe for the fate of all creatures. Is it not our duty to take sides?"
Joana shivered at the bird's fate-laden speech.
"Am I really the one? How come I don't feel like a chosen one?" The questions came from her heart almost without thinking.
Ebek cocked his head. She could feel his eyes on her.
"No chosen one ever felt that they were but they were nonetheless. And we hear many stories. It's what they say. You are a master of the ancient tongue. You speak with ease to all creatures whether they walk, swim or fly. Your spirit is indomitable, no command can silence you. With each sign there is less doubt."
"There are more signs?"
Ebek knocked his beak against the wooden beam three times, a gentle tapping. Joana nearly jumped thinking somebody was at the door.
"You are just beginning to discover your destiny. Great is the power of the Wyrdvoice but no two are alike." Ebek's tone was now grave as if he was reciting some unknown tome of knowledge. "Destiny and heritage form the powers for which the Wyrdvoice is merely the vessel. No telling is there when or how the power is released but when it comes to pass Wyrdvoice shall grow and wax like the rising sun and gain in force like the descending avalanche." Meekly in the small bird voice again: "You'll know when it happens."
A force of nature, Vucara had said in her simpler words.
"Have you ever met another one-" Joana hesitated to admit the obvious, acknowledge what everybody had told her recently. "-like me?"
"No", the bird responded promptly with no room for doubt, "we carry the memories of many notable deeds and events with us but none quite like you." He continued in his reciting voice: "Only one there ever is that may call himself Wyrdvoice, no more, and lonely is his way."
Joana gazed at the large bird with growing wonder.
"How is it you know so much about my destiny?"
The bird seemed to shrug. "I told you, we hear many a story from all kinds of creatures. Ever since the days of old we have watched and we have listened. And we remember."
"What else can you tell me about -" She hesitated almost timidly this time. Not out of false pride, however, to fill such large shoes but out of a sense of foreboding. "-about my destiny?"
What had started out as an escape, an unorganised hunt for revenge had now grown into an altogether different shape. Huge and daunting destiny spun by the unfathomable Norns loomed over her. What did she know about destiny?
"I am no oracle", Ebek returned after a pause. "If I was I'd predict violence, great deeds, a name rising above the others in the face of danger and against the odds, a tale worth telling."
Joana tried in vain to gulp down the rising anxiety. "If I am this one you say I am, this Wyrdvoice", she ventured, "is this the only path I have now? What if I don't want it? Is there no way back?"
Now Ebek's reply came like the blaring of trumpets heralding her doom. "You are not who I say you are. You are who you are. It just took you until now to find out. To deny it now - nevermore."
A heavy silence fell like a shroud. Cutting through this silence came the sound of the bolt being thrown back crashing louder than a battering ram. A quick fluttering of wings meant Ebek had already disappeared into a shadowy hiding place among the rafters.
"The board is set, Speaker", he cawed ominously, "your move."
The door swung open. A bright rectangle of morning light was cast along the floor almost all the way to Joana's stall. A man's shadow stepped into the frame. Where were the others? Joana tried hard to calm her hammering heart, her breathing, so as not to give herself away. She took a firm hold of the only offensive weapon she had: the waste bucket. Pressing her back to the divider to the next stall the girl waited. She flexed her muscles as she watched the man's shadow grow taller as he approached the stall. Each heavy step was the echo of two of her heartbeats. Overhead Ebek cawed once, twice, tapped his beak against the wood. As the man turned the corner Joana hefted the bucket and, with a loud grunt, swung it around and up. Then his face came into view. It was Toben. Her blood went cold. She stumbled forward trying to wrench back the heavy container. Too late. Toben flinched, twisted his head aside. The bucket connected with a fearsome crash. Its vile contents splattered a wide radius. A bowl of gruel Toben had been carrying went flying into a dark recess of the building. Toben toppled backward with a cry holding his hands to his face. Joana, struggling for balance, nearly collided with another man that had been following. Joana swore loudly, ducking his grip. It was one of the local warriors.
"Now that ain't language for a woman", he growled with a wide yellow-toothed grin, "c'mere, you ain't goin' nowhere, lass."
He spread his hands. Joana's heart sank. Empty-handed, without the element of surprise she stood little chance against the tall man. Suddenly a large, black shape swooped down from the rafters. It landed right in the man's face, pecking and clawing. He cried out, batting at the large, black bird, trying frantically to ward off its attacks. Joana grabbed hold of the bucket again. The man was struggling to pull the bird away from him. Then just as quickly Ebek broke off his assault. The bucket, now empty, swung around and found its mark on the man's temple with a sharp crack. He collapsed with a sigh.
"You could have told me there were two of them", Joana snapped at the bird.
Ebek, who the morning light from the door releaved as the largest raven she had ever seen, spread his wings and hopped excitedly.
"Couldn't well have shouted, now could I", he returned. "Would have been a dead give-away - no pun intended."
Joana swallowed the retort. He was right. Then she remembered the prince. The girl whirled back around. Toben was still lying where he had fallen, holding his head. Blood was trickling down between his fingers. She kneeled beside him.
"Forgive me, m'lord. I didn't see it was you." She carefully pulled his hand away from the spot where she had hit him.
"You have a mean swing, Joana daughter of Iacobus", he groaned. "And what's that smell?"
She could feel the blush racing up her neck. Joana took a deep breath - but was cut off.
"Don't move, sorceress!"
The man was standing behind her. The tip of his spear hovered only inches from her neck. The horse beside him had woken up and snorted uneasily.
"Get up! Speak no-" The movement was so sudden that Joana jumped back with a yelp. The man stood no chance. Two hooves found their mark at the same time. Ebek gave a squawk and fluttered up to safety. Like a rag doll the man was flung into the opposite stall. Almost fearfully Joana peeked around the corner into the stalls. The large horse shook its mane and neighed. On the other side lay the guard with his neck twisted into an unnatural angle. The horse neighed again.
"Come .. away, Speaker." Its voice was deep and melodic. At the same time there was an edge and a crudeness that Joana had also noticed in the dogs that were not used to using True Speak.
With effort the horse repeated: "Come away. Ride. I carry you."
Joana was still speechless. "You ... why do you help me?"
"I hear ... you talk", came the halting reply. "You are the Speaker."
"Big. Strong. Fast. Not too bright", Ebek evaluated dryly, "you might stand a better chance on him for now."
The horse did not react. Joana turned back to the prince who had sat up unsteadily. There was true awe in his eyes.
"So you are truly what they say", he muttered.
I don't know who I am, she wanted to reply, I wish I knew.
"Time to go, Speaker", Ebek called from the door. "There are people coming."
Joana eyed Toben's injury uneasily. The bleeding seemed to have ceased. But what about the dirt. Many a man had died of sore brand, not of the blade that cut him. He nodded wearily.
"Go. Quickly." Then with a smirk he added: "Don't let the burning in my eyes be in vain."
She blushed again, nodded. The horse stamped impatiently when she tied him loose and led him out of the stall. A proud rust coloured steed, a horse of war. She thought she heard Toben call out when slipped on the creatures shiny back. Just then two men appeared in the frame of the door.
"The Beast Tamer is loose!"
"Close the doors!"
"Hold. Tight", the horse growled. Joana promptly obeyed, reaching as far around his muscular neck as possible, bracing herself.
"Who are you?"
The steed's reply began low but rose in volume into a mighty battle cry as it reared onto its hind legs: "I ... am Wailach!"
Like a battering ram Wailach burst forth from the stable doors. Men were flung out of his way left and right. There were four Joana could make out. Wailach never slowed but sped straight on. Down the lane, across the town square. People leaped out of his path. Shouts and curses were aimed at horse and rider but were soon lost in the hammering of hooves. Joana held on for dear life. She had never ridden bare-back. The beast's muscles rippled underneath her. Wailach tossed his head.
"You still there?"
"Can you find the way out of the town", Joana shouted. A large black shape swooped low.
"Not very subtle but effective! Follow me!" And he soared heavenward again, a dark siluette clearly visible above the houses of Tramir.
"None will stop us", the horse roared and seemed to bound forward with even greater speed.
They flew down some more streets. Carts toppled, children were snatched to safety. Then they were on the main street with the gate ahead. Wailach skidded onto the street among a flock of clamouring chickens and their owner. Then with a whinny the horse lowered its head and took up speed again. The guards jumped up from their resting place - the same one Joana had surprised them in two nights before. Their eyes grew wide as Wailach charged the gate. One had the sense to grab his spear. Then Ebek was upon him. The man let out a frightened scream. The weapon clattered to the ground. He stumbled right into the horse's path. Joana dug her fingers into the horse's mane. She hardly felt the collision when it happened. The man simply disappeared under the whirring hooves. Then they had reached the gate. The path was clear but Wailach halted once more. He reared on his hind legs and brayed triumphantly. Ebek was circling overhead like a hawk.
Then the steed and on it Joana turned their backs on Tramir and were off down the road in a flash.
... to be continued ...
The Thing hall was a large, solid construction of a stone and wood frame and a high roof. It had gables carved with horse heads and other wild beasts.
Joana had been taken to the stables where the horses of the royal guests were also kept. Evidently the men that had brought her here, Grimrun's henchmen, were under strict orders not to harm her. Their sidelong glances spoke an entirely different language. They carried an intense mixture of resentment, scorn and ... fear? Why, Joana wondered. Why would these strangers feel so strongly towards her?
In a stall at the very back of the dusky building they had tied her to a ring in the wall. The smell of horses and horse dung was strong in her nostrils. Once in a while one of the animals in the other stalls stamped or snorted. Other than that it was quiet. A guard had been set outside the booth. He spent his time leaning against the back wall of the building watching her every move with a weary expression. With no more curses and hardly any voice left Joana had slumped against the wall onto a pile of straw and resigned to staring into space. The rope around her wrists did not give her enough slack to even reach the front of the stall. In fact, it hardly allowed her to lie herself down fully on her bedding.
That smug grin on his face! It seemed to hover before her eyes in the dimness of the building. Her last attempt at vanquishing her opponent had failed. She might have frightened him for a moment, true, but in the end she had stood no chance. He had prevailed. And how satisfied he had looked when they had dragged her away. At least she had not given up when she had still been free to choose! Vucara had been right.
But now the wolf was gone, too. Quietly as usual Vucara had disappeared. That much she had gathered from her captors' conversations on her way here. The wolf had escaped but a lot of men were searching for her. She prayed that Vucara had made it out of Tramir to the relative safety of the forest. There did not seem to be much left she could have achieved by staying. In broad daylight and without the element of surprise Grimrun's armed henchmen would not be easy to overcome. And whether the dogs of Tramir would help again after they had felt the men's clubs and axes was doubtful.
Joana tried to rest while there was time. To steel herself for whatever fate awaited her. Despite the fatigue, however, her thoughts kept grinding round and round like the wheel of a mill. Walking into Grimrun's trap had been stupid. Yet she could not have ignored the suffering of those wolves. Grimrun had exploited that. Then what, if anything, could she have done differently? How could an enemy be brought down that did not shy away from using any means necessary? Was she too soft for such a contest? She was reminded of the grim satisfaction of slaying the men at the camp in the woods. She had triumphed then. And how about the innkeeper today, a brute like him, had he not deserved his fate? Had it not felt good to deliver his judgement to him, to become the hand of Tyr? But had she really intended to? This time there had been no need to slay him outright. And had it been up to her at all? Had father not tought her that only his God, had the right to judge? Now she was at the mercy of Grimrun's judgement, regardless of what monster he was. So the thoughts kept orbiting her mind like mosquitos their sleeping victim. And above all of them, closeby yet untouchable, hovered that face with its sharp nose and its piercing eyes, and that voice that had taken away hers.
Joana spent most of the day like this, staring morosely at nothing in particular. She hardly noticed that the guard's relief arrived, how the men spoke in hushed voices, shot her glances as you might a beautiful but vicious animal. As time passed that relief was then relieved in turn. She hardly noticed that nobody brought her any food and she was only dimly aware of her hunger. When the third relief arrived and she could see the sun was setting outside the girl began to stir. She tried to call out to the men as they chatted but words would still not come to her. Then she tried the other ones. Those came easier. Before this morning she had never used them on other humans. They stared at her. She could see from their eyes that they understood. The looks were not entirely those of men confident they dealt with a helpless girl. They made hasty signs of warding off evil. What had Grimrun told them, Joana wondered. She called again, more demanding this time.
"Shuddup", one of the men slurred in return. There was threat in his voice but also a tremor of something else. "Master Grimrun said not to talk to yer, so talk we won't."
She called again, demanded to eat. Hunger was beginning to sting after a whole day of fasting and exertion. They made more signs and retreated to the front of the building where she could not see them. She shouted for them angrily, challengingly a few times but received no more reply. She sank back onto her bed. Had Grimrun resolved to let her starve after all his troubles?
Joana guessed the sun had gone down completely when she became aware of raised voices outside the door. The stable was entirely dark. Her wrists and shoulders ached from being tied up all day and her hands had gone numb. And not only her hands. She was stiff all over and felt utterly exhausted but, what was more, the fury of the morning had given way to lethargy. Whoever it was that wanted to see her, whatever they wanted to do, it hardly mattered to her anymore.
Then the door was opened and the voices became clearer.
"She's dangerous, Master Grimrun says", the guard warned. Joana could almost see the simple man making another warding sign. "The Master says not to let anyone see her."
"I am not anyone", the other voice replied sternly. That voice. Had she not heard it before? "I can handle myself. You just keep guarding the door."
Of course, she knew that voice. The slightly haughty tone of someone used to command. She had heard it first in the forest years ago. Over the cooling carcass of a grey wolf. Never had Joana imaged she might ever less than detest the voice and its owner should she hear it again.
"Bring a light", Prince Toben called out. "Black as Hel in here."
There were hasty footsteps and flickering, redish light licked at the darkness surrounding her. A few moments later the prince stepped into view in front of her. Joana squinted at the sudden brightness of the flame of the torch he was holding. The other hand carried a wrapped bundle. He had taken off the armour he had still worn in the morning but was wearing a fine vest and his travelling cloak against the chill of the evening. His sword was now strapped to his belt.
Without a word he laid the bundle down, slipped the torch into an iron wall mounting. He drew a dagger from its sheath at the hip. Without knowing why she recoiled at the sight. He knelt next to her. Her eyes were still fixed on the blade. When he brought the blade up it was to cut her bonds. She was not sure what she had expected.
"Hold still, silly girl", he muttered with a hint of amusement in his voice, "I haven't made this long way to hurt you."
When she was free he motioned to the oilskin bundle. "You'll need your hands for that."
He sat back against the wall and let her unwrap the bundle. It held half a loaf of bread, nuts, cheese and a few scraps of smoked meat. She began eating hungrily though she never took her watchful eyes off him. He regarded her for a while from his position across the stall from her. When she began to slow down he finally spoke.
"How have you been treated?"
Whatever Grimrun had done to her still denied her the words in the tongues mother and father had taught her. She was getting more used to using True Speech, however, and those words came easy enough breaking through his enchantment.
"Worse than a prisoner waiting for her execution but better than the wolves you saw on the square." She squeezed the words out between mouthfuls. In her state they did not sound as sarcastic as she had intended.
He nodded. It was working behind his face, she could see. He was trying to make sense of what he was hearing. There was no apprehension as with Grimrun or his men. It was more a kind of wonder that showed on his features. Being the man he was he did not acknowledge it. Especially not to a girl like her. Instead he tried to sound encouraging: "To be honest, some have demanded your execution but they have not prevailed yet."
She had expected as much but there was still a sting of fright at the word "execution". Suddenly there was a hard lump in her throat and she no longer felt so hungry.
After a pause he went on: "My name and my word carry surprisingly little weight here. So I am unsure whether it was my protest or their Oracle Grimrun's silence that has stayed their hand for now."
The name made her grimace. "He plays them well", she whispered darkly, as much to herself as to him.
Toben's stare became intent. "Is it true? Did you kill that man?"
"Did you come here to interrogate me, my lord?"
Taken aback he frowned. Then the frown dissolved and he even smiled to himself. "I forgot who I am talking to. The girl with the tongue sharp as a knife." He looked her in the eye then and to her surprise she found no mockery in his gaze. "Frankly, Joana, I have been told some monstrous tales about you and about what has transpired this morning. I have come hoping to learn the truth. Because I refuse to believe that the daughter of Iacobus would kill a man, much less so without good reason."
She turned a gnawed off chunk of bread in one hand as if comparing it to a similar lump of cheese in the other. Despite his words he had not given her a knife to cut off slices. Over these two items she studied the prince. He appeared genuine. There was no sense of deceit around him. His gaze rested on her easily now without staring but also without straying. Then again what did she know of Grimrun's capabilities? Or what of Toben's intentions?
"They beat them to death, the wolves." She shuddered at the memory. Her voice dropped to hardly more than a hoarse whisper. "It was terrible. I wanted to make them stop. I threw the spear. I meant to scare the man, not kill him. The spear went further than I expected." As she spoke the scraps of memory seemed to slide into place. The scene had been playing in her head scores of times but now it made sense.
"Wolves again", he mused. "How is it that every time we meet a wolf is involved?" There was a twinkle in his eye. Joana did not smile, just stared at him coldly for a while. His jest had taken away much of the warmth she had felt at his coming.
His smile faded. After a pause he pursed his lips looking pensive for a while. "An accident won't be easy to explain to an enraged Thing. Tell me, Joana, how came you by the spear in the first place? You disappeared from your father's tent and now I find you here, dressed and armed like a warrior, accused of having slain a man, even rumoured to be the accomplice or consort of a -" He gestured vaguely.
Joana sank back against the wall of the stable. She felt that helpless anger rise up again. Grimrun's lies had gotten to the prince, as well. Then again, what had she expected? She stifled a curse.
"Do you believe what they say, my lord", she eventually replied with bitterness.
He shrugged a little helplessly. "Everybody here believes it. They would swear by it if they had to. Your father is a man in good standing with the king. Then again simple folk will believe many things. Even I must concede, however, you associate more with beasts than with men."
He trailed off.
"The truth will be harder still to believe, my lord. You would only laugh at me and call me a silly girl again."
"Let me be the judge of what I believe and what not", he returned. There was the cocky young prince again who had claimed to have rescued her.
She nodded. "As you wish."
Then she began cautiously recounting the events of the last two weeks. Had it only been a fortnight? It seemed to her as if a lifetime had passed since the beginning of her journey. She felt like an entirely different person now. Each step of the way had left its mark on her - inside or out. Haltingly she began at the sacking of Kremitz and her escape. She tried to describe the leader of the attackers in detail but at that point details seemed blurry already. Had she really gotten a good lock at him? She had been so sure his features resembled those of the new oracle of Tramir. But now ... Could she have been mistaken? She clenched her fists. Slowly, with each word of True Speech the images became clearer. Was he messing with her mind? Had he the power? With sheer effort of will she pushed forward. At the encounter with Vucara she hesitated. Something inside cautioned her to omit it. In a low voice she related the encounter watching his face intently. There was no mirth in his eyes. He was listening carefully. When she came to her abduction from her father's tent he looked grim and nodded to himself. Father ... Finally, she arrived at her meeting with Berengar, their fight against Grimrun and his men, her desperate flight and, at last, her capture in the morning. There was a silence as he visibly took in her words, digested them.
"You have quite a story to tell." He shook his head in bafflement. "I'll tell you, if any man had related me a tall tale like this and expected me to believe it I would have called him a liar or worse for insulting me and thus abusing my trust."
Joana just stared at him. She had sunk back against the wall, feeling exhausted and empty. Her tale was out. At least, for that she felt relieved. He had listened and she could expect little more.
"I warned you it would be hard to believe. That does not make me a liar."
The prince studied her in the gloom. The torch had burned low. His face was serious now. Thoughts were still sinking in. Not for the first time Joana found herself caressing her mother's ring. Eventually the prince broke his silence. His voice seemed far away.
"I dare not say you are. Something tells me there is more to you than meets the eye." He hesitated. "I have seen what you are capable of. And I have not forgotten."
She remembered the look he had given her then when the wolf had answered her.
"That wolf companion you speak of - I think they are looking for it."
Hope flared up in Joana's heart. If they were still looking that meant that there was a chance that Vucara had eluded them again and was still alive.
"You worry about this wolf a lot", he observed. Still there was no amusement in his voice now.
"What about my father", Joana broke her silence. The question had been on her mind since she had thought about his tent.
The prince regarded her gravely. "After you disappeared he was not the same. He is hardly seen eating or leaving his tent of late. Apateus is in charge of the build now. He is the only one your father speaks to. Apateus says that grief has made him ill."
A blade to the heart could not have hurt more. Joana stared at him numbly. She was clutching the ring on her finger - the only thing left of her family.
"Gods damn him", she whispered, "he'll have destroyed father, too."
"Rest assured, Joana, I will send word to Iacobus that his daughter lives and will be taken home safely. And if we can find proof of what you say of this Grimrun then the traitor and murderer will be brought to justice." His intentions were honest, she realised. He said what he believed was expected of him. From the way he said the words with a confident smile across his features they sounded like something he had heard from a story. He had also never asked whether she wanted to be taken home.
"I thank you for your kindness, my lord", she answered politely.
"Thank me when it is done. I will speak to the Thing on your behalf. Until then I will forbid them to lay hands on you."
She smiled weakly. Maybe he meant well. But he failed to realise that Grimrun had had ample chance to harm her. That was something that had come to her in the quiet dimness of this day in the stable. His henchman had told her Grimrun wanted his prize unspoilt.
"I think he wants me for something, my lord", she uttered her thoughts, "he will suffer noone to lay hands on me."
He frowned considering this. When he spoke again there was a hint of disapproval. Was he offended that his protection was not needed?
"Have you any idea what he might want you for? Surely in a man his age the carnal desires should have subsided."
She almost laughed at him. Was it so difficult for men to see a woman other than an oracle as anything else but an object of their lust? Still, the truth was she did not know for certain what Grimrun wanted her for. She could only guess it had something to do with her new-found abilities.
She replied: "For now I can only guess, my lord. But if Berengar is right about what Grimrun really is then who among men may understand his true motives?."
He snorted. A little haughtily this time he said: "I am not yet prepared to resort to ancient local supestitions. If he did what you aledge then he is merely a dangerous madman. And small wonder: There's something unnatural about a man sorcerer anyway. No need to make him a spawn of Loki."
Joana bit her tongue. There was no point in arguing. The prince had not seen Grimrun the way she had. He had in fact no reason to believe anything she had said. It was a small wonder he had listened to her this far.
Satisfied that his self-appointed charge was safe and fed the prince took his leave. They would be waiting for him. He called the guard outside and commanded him in harsh words to tie the prisoner but give the rope more slack so she could rest. After some grumbling the man obeyed. Then with the promise to return soon the prince made his exit and Joana was left alone in the dark again. Occasionally one of the horses stamped or snorted in its dream. For her sleep was still a long way away.
Joana could not tell how long she had spent in uneasy slumber. Had she dreamed? A deep rumbling voice seemed to resound in her head. Something had startled her. From the utter darkness and silence that surrounded her she guessed it was still night outside. What then had awakened her? She could hear the deep breathing of the animals. But there was something else. Joana gave a start when she noticed the two shimmering pin pricks piercing the night. They were similar in kind to Vucara's eyes but their colour was that of a deep red sunset. They winked. Involuntarily Joana shrank back further against the wall.
"Who's there?" The girl tried in vain to hide the slight quavering of her voice.
There was a rustling of heavy furs. The points of light seemed to settle a little nearer.
"Are you afraid, Speaker?" His harsh rasp of a voice cut through the silence not so much like a knife but like an axe. Or was it that the throat that uttered the words was not fit for the sounds it produced? There was a palpable presence in the room with her that exceeded that of a man. Of course, she recognised the voice. Its sound had etched itself into her memory. She was afraid of this man-beast. Her heart beat like a drum, so loud she was sure he could hear it any way. But she would not give him the satisfaction! She swallowed but her mouth was dry.
"What do you want? Have you come to admire your prize when I'm bound and helpless? Are you afraid to even strike a light?" Her voice was still not fully under her control. So her taunts came out as a hoarse whisper.
He chuckled. It sounded like shaking rocks in a bucket. "You're a feisty little one", he rasped in the inky blackness, "but you will soon learn some respect for your masters."
In a tone almost too deep to hear Grimrun chanted a few syllables. With a chill Joana realised that he was using a crude form of True Speech. His accent was awkward and the snippets made no sense to her but they were True Speech nonetheless. As he chanted there was a scratching sound and suddenly the scene was lit by a glow as of smouldering ambers. The light emmanated from the rune S scratched into the earth.
He was perched opposite her on a stool huddled in his furs. His hood was cast back and a wolfish smile, teeth bared under narrow lips made his features appear even sharper. His eyes still gleamed reddish in their sockets. That hated face looked just like it had lit up by the flames of burning Kremitz. Joana clenched her fists. No fear, she told herself. He did not deserve it.
"If you've come to kill me then just get on with it and make it quick. I will not beg you for your mercy."
Her defiance made his smile draw wider making it nearly reptilian.
"I will not kill you. You have not exceeded your usefulness yet. I wanted to see the girl that has killed so many of my warriors and who they have begun to fear as the 'Tamer of Beasts'."
"Are you satisfied, Zmeu?" She poured all her disdain into these words. "Will you now finally tell me what you want from me?"
"Zmeu?" His voice was raised in wonder and amusement. His gaze never left hers, probing her. "Who put that into your head? Berengar?"
"He told me enough. He told me what you really are", she spat. Rising anger made he voice quaver now. He was merely toying with her.
"That ignorant child", came the reply with a disdainful snort, "has lost his mind and knows nothing of what he speaks. He's wrong, so wrong. Fortunately, he is no longer able to spread his nonsense any further. You really do seem to understand nothing", he mused. "I wonder if you really are as clueless as you let on. What he sees in you I do not know. You certainly do not look so mighty from up close."
"I am neither mighty nor powerful", Joana returned through gritted teeth, "but I am not alone."
"Oh yes, your four-legged friends out there." He looked concerned for a moment, then the smirk returned. "Rest assured, Speaker, I have not forgotten them. They will be dealt with like the others. There are plans in motion whose scope by far exceeds the significance of your little 'family' - or even you."
This time Joana struggled furiously against her bonds. Her voice came as a low growl. She was trembling with pure anger now.
"Gods damn you! You will pay for what you have done! I will destroy you!"
His eyes narrowed at this and the smile left his face. "Shout your threats now", he spoke as if her curses had slid right off him. "When he is through with you, you will see things differently." He rose to leave.
Joana was seething. "I don't care what kind of monstrosities you throw at me, Grimrun. I will have your head!"
There was a choking sound from her enemy. The red eyes widened. He steadied himself with a quick step. When he spoke again his voice seemed shaken though he made an effort to control it.
"You", he snarled. "You will do nothing of the sort. You will remain silent until spoken to."
Joana felt the tendrils of his command creep up on her. They extended into her mind. The back of her neck, where he had scratched her, grew warm. Again she felt the words drain away from her as if the groping fingers of his will had pulled a stopper. The blanket of his mind was suffocating. Then she thought of the words she used to speak with Vucara. Like a fresh breeze they blew at the settling whisps of fog. In her mind she pushed back wrestling with the imposing thoughts. They were slippery, however, and wafted back quickly.
"Get out ... of my head." She forced out a furious scream.
He gasped. This time her enemy's voice sounded shaken but dripped with contempt.
"Uppety brat. You think you have power because you can break a simple command. When we don't need you anymore you will end the same way Berengar did."
With a swipe of his foot he erased the rune and darkness poured back.
"Slain by cowards in the night", she shot back blindly in his direction, "like Kremitz?! Because you were scared to face them alone?"
She heard a rustle of heavy furs as he turned. Then retreating footsteps.
"Come here and face me like a man, you monster", Joana shouted after him. "Do you fear a mere woman?"
The door crashed shut. He was gone. Joana slumped back against the stable wall. She tried to adjust her position so as not to put too much weight on her aching arms. Her heart still hammered out the quick pace of a war drum in her chest but her thoughts were galoping in her head. Had she really shaken him off? She could not utter a word in her mother's tongue but for the second time he had failed to silence her. What had Vucara likened True Speech to - a force of nature itself? Could this be the tool - the weapon - to destroy her enemy? And Berengar had said something, too. Had he not told her to ask about the power of - what? And even the dream! She had dreamed about a terrifying adversary. It had spoken to her. What had it said? She tried to remember. Like most dreams it now seemed so remote and indistinct and difficult to grasp. It had said ...
She was climbing a steep slope. The ground was rocky with patches of thin-bladed grass. Moss clung to the rocks here and there. She felt it soft between her fingers as she steadied herself with her hands on the way. The air was silent. Not even bugs buzzed here. Looking around in the light of a countless multitude of stars, she beheld lands that were vast and empty, devoid of any signs of inhabitants. Craggy mountains with bare slopes similar to the one she was on surrounded her as far as the eyes could peer. The sky was ablaze but earth was shrouded in shadows. No wind stirred her hair or chilled her ascent. She could hear herself breathe, could almost hear her own heart pound in her chest. Then Joana scaled the top edge of the incline. The scene that panned out before her was enough to silence her breathing, as well.
The mountain slope levelled out at this point and formed an open plateau. At the far end gaped the enormous maw of a cave entrance, lined with sharp stalagtites like teeth of stone. It was not the scenery, however, that gave Joana pause. All around the flatened space animals of all sorts - both known and unknown to her - had gathered. They sat on the rocks above the cave and on the slope leading up and even on the level ground hidden behind rocks. Joana spotted creatures as small as a finch and as big as a stag. She spotted wolves cowering alongside wide-eyed deer and birds perched on the back of a lynx. None paid her any heed but gazed intently toward the centre of the natural arena. At the same time they all seemed on edge as if prepared to jump for cover and hide at any time. She had unwittingly stumbled upon an unusual battleground. Two unmatched opponents faced each other off as the creatures looked on without a sound. On her side, glittering white in the moonlight was a beast of the stature of a horse but much more slender and taller. Its limbs seemed unnaturally long but still its every movement radiated strength and grace that were not of this earth. Its mane and tail flowed and rippled as of their own accord like cascades of liquid silver, sparkling under the stars. And there was stuff like feathers on its ancles. Opposite this fragile thing towered a monster with the body of a serpent and the squat legs of a lizard. Its bulk, pressed close to the ground, was so long it covered almost the whole breadth of the plateau and its tail ended just short of the pitch blackness of the cavern. Its eyes glowed deep red like smouldering coals and its jaws were lined with sharp teeth that shimmered slickly. Slowly the two circled each other. Joana had never seen a horse move like a predator, with such smooth elegance, cautious yet tense, ready to spring. All the while the great serpent's head turned and its body heaved and coiled to face its opponent with its terrifying gaze and teeth while at the same time presenting it with the armoured flanks of its bulk.
When the silvery creature's face came into view Joana's breath caught in her throat for the second time. The features were long as that of a horse or an ass, its ears long and cupped with feathery tufts at their ends. On its forehead the creatures bore a single horn that curved ever so gently backwards. Joana stared at this apparition with her eyes and mouth agape. The Romans had believed it existed, her father had even seen it mentioned in his holy scripture. Still, to see one standing there was a different matter. The unicorn flowed around its titanic adversary and the serpent turned with it, their eyes locked. Sometimes one or the other would flinch or quiver as if a fierce struggle was going on unbeknownst to the onlookers.
The serpent made the first move. Its head shot forward and around its opponent and from its mouth roared forth a stream of fire, blindingly bright in the darkness around them. Joana could feel the searing heat even where she was cowering. The unicorn sprang clear and to the side. Following, the flames swept the ground but again the unicorn evaded them with ease. The dragon reared its head sucking in a new breath, rekindling the abating flames. Now the unicorn charged. Its hooves beating out its fierce challenge, its horn lowered like a footman's lance it covered the distance that separated the two. With a crack the horn broke through the dragon's scales and dug itself deep into its shoulder. The lindwurm shuddered, recoiled but uttered only a deep growl that Joana could feel rather than hear in the pit of her stomach. The lindwurm snapped at the silver beast's fragile form but it quickly retreated out of reach. Again and again the dragon gave blasts of flame chasing the unicorn this way and that across their battleground. And again and again the unicorn charged piercing the great body of its opponent with its gleaming horn. It was like trying to bring down an ox with pricks from a knitting needle. The lindwurm bled from dozens of pricks leaving a trail of dark splotches but the injuries seemed to only increase its wrath. With fire and teeth it cornered the unicorn. The attacks had been feints, Joana realised, when a wide sweep of the dragon's tail caught the unicorns flank with a thud. The slap sent it hurtling through the air. Still, with the nimbleness of a cat it flipped around in midair and landed on its cloven hooves just short of the steep slope. It came to a skidding halt not far from where Joana was hiding, scattering scraps of moss, earth and broken rock.
That moment the unicorn turned its long head and looked straight at the only human onlooker. Time seemed to halt. Its eyes, in contrast to the rest of its appearance, were utterly black like two shiny orbs of jet. Watch closely, the eyes said to her, she could almost hear the words form in her head. The battle you face is no less terrible than this. Joana was bewildered. The intensity of the gaze and the meaning it carried were nearly more than she could bear. Despair gripped her heart with its cold questing arms. How could she succeed where even this mythical, magical creature was beaten down? She quickly looked away. The unicorn had not stirred. The lindwurm was lurking behind it motionlessly. Had there not been pillars of carved stone lining this space, Joana wondered. She was not sure where the thought had come from. The more she looked the more familiar the place seemed to her. Joana, daughter of Iacobus! The unicorn stamped a hoof and a rock underneath was split cleanly in two. It knew her name. Fear is the whetstone of the spirit but desperation is a constricting snake. Fear your enemy but let it not strangle you. Ere the end your power will be greater than his.
Just at that moment a round full moon emerged from behind the horizon, dimming the stars around it with its radiance. This moon seemed larger than Joana had ever seen it. In the light of its beams the unicorn shone and sparkled bright like the heavenly body itself. It reared up on its hind legs. The dragon tensed, its tail flicking excitedly. It drew a deep breath. Then the unicorn spoke. In a voice as clear as a mountain spring yet as hard as the chrystals in the mountain's bowels it spoke words that were swallowed by the thundering of its hooves. It charged. The dragon hesitated, seemed to deflate, lowered its terrifying head as if in resignation. Like a blazing bolt of lightning the unicorn covered the distance between them. They met with a crash. The lindwurm's head was flung around and back. Then its entire body sagged to one side. The unicorn stood firm. Its horn was embedded full length in the soft spot beneath the dragon's jaw.
When the lindwurm's body had stopped twitching the unicorn withdrew and its opponent's head slumped to the ground. Joana had expected the animals, all the watching creatures, to show some reaction at the monster's demise. They did not. None even came forward to acknowledge the victor. They simply, quietly scattered, creeping away into the night. The unicorn paid them no heed. It was again looking straight at its human spectator. You are not alone, the eyes intoned. I am watching you.
"I am Ebek."
Joana was once again startled from sleep. In the gloom of the building she was still unable to discern if dawn had finally arrived outsite. Then who had spoken? She backed against the wall. Her wrists and shoulders stung at the smallest motion and her hands felt huge and swollen, each finger as supple as a turnip. Her whole body was stiff and ached.
"Who's there", she mumbled.
Had her nemesis returned to taunt her further?
There was a little tug at bonds. It was followed shortly by another one.
Then a voice squawked above her head: "But I've told you already. How many times are you going to ask?"
She ducked involuntarily. How could this somebody be above her? The image of Grimrun scaling the wall like a huge, bloated spider shot past her mind's eye. There was no telling what powers her opponent might have to top the ones he had demonstrated. But as the words echoed in her head the voice did not match. It was higher, raspy but not harsh and where Grimrun felt large this one was somehow a small voice. What had it said earlier? She tried to clear the cobwebs of drowsiness out of her mind. Ebek? She voiced the question.
"You certainly are the first creature I have met that can hold a conversation in her sleep", quipped the other.
There was another series of quick tugs. Joana twisted around while at the same time trying to feel with her hands what it was that was manipulating her bonds. There was a noisy flapping of wings and a sudden whiff of air brushed her hands.
"Hold still, will you", the voice croaked a little vexed. "This is not easy work even without you fussing around."
Joana's apology came out by itself. She had never been rebuked by a bird, for bird it must be, she figured. Furthermore, if the little creature had wanted to harm her it had had ample time for that while she had been sleeping. More pecking at her wrists followed but Ebek kept quiet for a while until he finally muttered: "Curses, where's a set of sharp teeth when you need one?"
He went on labouring for a while in silence, then: "For crying out loud, how do you even make these things this hard. Tearing at a dead sheep is easier than this."
Joana did not respond. Exhaustion was upon her again. She was sure that she had dosed off a couple of times while Ebek hacked and clipped and muttered indignantly. When had been the last time she had just lain down and slept a whole night? It sure felt like ages ago. A few more nights like this and she might just surrender to Grimrun whatever it was he wanted from her.
"There. Pull." She had fallen asleep again and started at something hard and cold tapping her hand. Was that a sliver of morning light that pierced the gloom? Joana pulled at the ropes though she felt there was not much strength in her. Nothing happened.
There was a croak above her like from a crow. Several sharp pecks and jerks followed. She gave a yelp when something nipped at her skin but Ebek took no notice. Then: "Now pull harder."
Joana gave it everything she had left. The rope snapped and she rolled forward on the straw. Blood rushed back into her hands and arms. They prickled and stung as if set upon by a swarm of angry bees. For a while Joana just lay there rubbing her limbs back to life. Finally, she rose to her feet unsteadily and staggered the three paces to the end of her stall. She had been right, shafts of grey dawn feel through cracks in the door. It was just enough to outline a large black blotch surely the size of a chicken perched on a beam above her. It stirred.
"So, what's the plan?"
Joana hesitated. Somewhere in the fog of her mind she realised that she did not have one. Would the door be bolted? Surely it would be. And there had been guards.
She haltingly picked her words: "How many are there outside?"
"Many", came the bewildered answer, "a whole town."
Joana swallowed the impatient reply. He was not human. How would a bird know that two men outside the door were guards while other people living here had nothing to do with her. Instead, she said carefully, pointing at the door: "Out there. Did you see anybody outside this house that may be guarding it?"
Ebek seemed to give this some thought.
"Two."
Two guards, bolted door and a whole town that would be on the lookout for her. Joana slumped against the support beam next to her and swore under her breath. She wished her head would clear up. One day in the future a herbalist would concoct a potion that cleared your head of fatigue and she would live on it.
"Is there another way out of this building?"
The shade that was Ebek cocked its head.
"Not for someone your size that can't fly."
Joana had not expected so. If Tramir lacked a dungeon they had surely chosen this place to imprison her in for a reason. She stumbled back to her bed of straw and sank down on it. The gates would be closed, too, it occurred to her. Even if she did manage to break out of her immediate prison the town of Tramir was just another, albeit larger, confinement. A thought began to take shape. She shrugged her shoulders - it was as good a plan as any. It might even work. She told Ebek.
"Wait 'til somebody comes in here by themselves, beat the living daylights out of them, run like the wind", he summed it up. "It's not exactly a fox of a plan but you might survive it."
Good enough. The bird had no better suggestion to offer. It sounded like a better chance she had had in a while. At least now she had time to think about it. In the waxing light of morning Joana quietly searched the stalls around hers. The one opposite was completely empty. The one adjacent to hers held a large, powerful horse, the kind to put to work on a field or ride into battle - she could not tell which. A saddle rested on the dividing wall to the next stall. The animal was sleeping or at least made no move when she inspected the stall. She dared not extend her search closer to the door for fear of being surprised by a guard coming in. Even from where she was now mens' voices could be heard outside. So, the guards were awake though she could not make out what they were saying nor how many there were. More than one for sure.
There was nothing that could be used as a weapon. The only movable items she could reach were the saddle and the iron shod bucket the guards had set grinning into her stall. It would have to do. There was only this one chance.
Joana rubbed her eyes. Rest would be the logical thing to do but her heart beat with anticipation like a war drum. Ebek fluttered and ruffled his feathers. The bird was restless, too.
"Why are you helping me", she asked the bird half out of interest, half to while the wait away.
Ebek looked down at her from his perch, cawed.
"You are the chosen one, the Truespeaker, the Wyrdvoice", he replied as if this was already reason enough. Then he continued: "You fight a great evil, fight maybe for the fate of all creatures. Is it not our duty to take sides?"
Joana shivered at the bird's fate-laden speech.
"Am I really the one? How come I don't feel like a chosen one?" The questions came from her heart almost without thinking.
Ebek cocked his head. She could feel his eyes on her.
"No chosen one ever felt that they were but they were nonetheless. And we hear many stories. It's what they say. You are a master of the ancient tongue. You speak with ease to all creatures whether they walk, swim or fly. Your spirit is indomitable, no command can silence you. With each sign there is less doubt."
"There are more signs?"
Ebek knocked his beak against the wooden beam three times, a gentle tapping. Joana nearly jumped thinking somebody was at the door.
"You are just beginning to discover your destiny. Great is the power of the Wyrdvoice but no two are alike." Ebek's tone was now grave as if he was reciting some unknown tome of knowledge. "Destiny and heritage form the powers for which the Wyrdvoice is merely the vessel. No telling is there when or how the power is released but when it comes to pass Wyrdvoice shall grow and wax like the rising sun and gain in force like the descending avalanche." Meekly in the small bird voice again: "You'll know when it happens."
A force of nature, Vucara had said in her simpler words.
"Have you ever met another one-" Joana hesitated to admit the obvious, acknowledge what everybody had told her recently. "-like me?"
"No", the bird responded promptly with no room for doubt, "we carry the memories of many notable deeds and events with us but none quite like you." He continued in his reciting voice: "Only one there ever is that may call himself Wyrdvoice, no more, and lonely is his way."
Joana gazed at the large bird with growing wonder.
"How is it you know so much about my destiny?"
The bird seemed to shrug. "I told you, we hear many a story from all kinds of creatures. Ever since the days of old we have watched and we have listened. And we remember."
"What else can you tell me about -" She hesitated almost timidly this time. Not out of false pride, however, to fill such large shoes but out of a sense of foreboding. "-about my destiny?"
What had started out as an escape, an unorganised hunt for revenge had now grown into an altogether different shape. Huge and daunting destiny spun by the unfathomable Norns loomed over her. What did she know about destiny?
"I am no oracle", Ebek returned after a pause. "If I was I'd predict violence, great deeds, a name rising above the others in the face of danger and against the odds, a tale worth telling."
Joana tried in vain to gulp down the rising anxiety. "If I am this one you say I am, this Wyrdvoice", she ventured, "is this the only path I have now? What if I don't want it? Is there no way back?"
Now Ebek's reply came like the blaring of trumpets heralding her doom. "You are not who I say you are. You are who you are. It just took you until now to find out. To deny it now - nevermore."
A heavy silence fell like a shroud. Cutting through this silence came the sound of the bolt being thrown back crashing louder than a battering ram. A quick fluttering of wings meant Ebek had already disappeared into a shadowy hiding place among the rafters.
"The board is set, Speaker", he cawed ominously, "your move."
The door swung open. A bright rectangle of morning light was cast along the floor almost all the way to Joana's stall. A man's shadow stepped into the frame. Where were the others? Joana tried hard to calm her hammering heart, her breathing, so as not to give herself away. She took a firm hold of the only offensive weapon she had: the waste bucket. Pressing her back to the divider to the next stall the girl waited. She flexed her muscles as she watched the man's shadow grow taller as he approached the stall. Each heavy step was the echo of two of her heartbeats. Overhead Ebek cawed once, twice, tapped his beak against the wood. As the man turned the corner Joana hefted the bucket and, with a loud grunt, swung it around and up. Then his face came into view. It was Toben. Her blood went cold. She stumbled forward trying to wrench back the heavy container. Too late. Toben flinched, twisted his head aside. The bucket connected with a fearsome crash. Its vile contents splattered a wide radius. A bowl of gruel Toben had been carrying went flying into a dark recess of the building. Toben toppled backward with a cry holding his hands to his face. Joana, struggling for balance, nearly collided with another man that had been following. Joana swore loudly, ducking his grip. It was one of the local warriors.
"Now that ain't language for a woman", he growled with a wide yellow-toothed grin, "c'mere, you ain't goin' nowhere, lass."
He spread his hands. Joana's heart sank. Empty-handed, without the element of surprise she stood little chance against the tall man. Suddenly a large, black shape swooped down from the rafters. It landed right in the man's face, pecking and clawing. He cried out, batting at the large, black bird, trying frantically to ward off its attacks. Joana grabbed hold of the bucket again. The man was struggling to pull the bird away from him. Then just as quickly Ebek broke off his assault. The bucket, now empty, swung around and found its mark on the man's temple with a sharp crack. He collapsed with a sigh.
"You could have told me there were two of them", Joana snapped at the bird.
Ebek, who the morning light from the door releaved as the largest raven she had ever seen, spread his wings and hopped excitedly.
"Couldn't well have shouted, now could I", he returned. "Would have been a dead give-away - no pun intended."
Joana swallowed the retort. He was right. Then she remembered the prince. The girl whirled back around. Toben was still lying where he had fallen, holding his head. Blood was trickling down between his fingers. She kneeled beside him.
"Forgive me, m'lord. I didn't see it was you." She carefully pulled his hand away from the spot where she had hit him.
"You have a mean swing, Joana daughter of Iacobus", he groaned. "And what's that smell?"
She could feel the blush racing up her neck. Joana took a deep breath - but was cut off.
"Don't move, sorceress!"
The man was standing behind her. The tip of his spear hovered only inches from her neck. The horse beside him had woken up and snorted uneasily.
"Get up! Speak no-" The movement was so sudden that Joana jumped back with a yelp. The man stood no chance. Two hooves found their mark at the same time. Ebek gave a squawk and fluttered up to safety. Like a rag doll the man was flung into the opposite stall. Almost fearfully Joana peeked around the corner into the stalls. The large horse shook its mane and neighed. On the other side lay the guard with his neck twisted into an unnatural angle. The horse neighed again.
"Come .. away, Speaker." Its voice was deep and melodic. At the same time there was an edge and a crudeness that Joana had also noticed in the dogs that were not used to using True Speak.
With effort the horse repeated: "Come away. Ride. I carry you."
Joana was still speechless. "You ... why do you help me?"
"I hear ... you talk", came the halting reply. "You are the Speaker."
"Big. Strong. Fast. Not too bright", Ebek evaluated dryly, "you might stand a better chance on him for now."
The horse did not react. Joana turned back to the prince who had sat up unsteadily. There was true awe in his eyes.
"So you are truly what they say", he muttered.
I don't know who I am, she wanted to reply, I wish I knew.
"Time to go, Speaker", Ebek called from the door. "There are people coming."
Joana eyed Toben's injury uneasily. The bleeding seemed to have ceased. But what about the dirt. Many a man had died of sore brand, not of the blade that cut him. He nodded wearily.
"Go. Quickly." Then with a smirk he added: "Don't let the burning in my eyes be in vain."
She blushed again, nodded. The horse stamped impatiently when she tied him loose and led him out of the stall. A proud rust coloured steed, a horse of war. She thought she heard Toben call out when slipped on the creatures shiny back. Just then two men appeared in the frame of the door.
"The Beast Tamer is loose!"
"Close the doors!"
"Hold. Tight", the horse growled. Joana promptly obeyed, reaching as far around his muscular neck as possible, bracing herself.
"Who are you?"
The steed's reply began low but rose in volume into a mighty battle cry as it reared onto its hind legs: "I ... am Wailach!"
Like a battering ram Wailach burst forth from the stable doors. Men were flung out of his way left and right. There were four Joana could make out. Wailach never slowed but sped straight on. Down the lane, across the town square. People leaped out of his path. Shouts and curses were aimed at horse and rider but were soon lost in the hammering of hooves. Joana held on for dear life. She had never ridden bare-back. The beast's muscles rippled underneath her. Wailach tossed his head.
"You still there?"
"Can you find the way out of the town", Joana shouted. A large black shape swooped low.
"Not very subtle but effective! Follow me!" And he soared heavenward again, a dark siluette clearly visible above the houses of Tramir.
"None will stop us", the horse roared and seemed to bound forward with even greater speed.
They flew down some more streets. Carts toppled, children were snatched to safety. Then they were on the main street with the gate ahead. Wailach skidded onto the street among a flock of clamouring chickens and their owner. Then with a whinny the horse lowered its head and took up speed again. The guards jumped up from their resting place - the same one Joana had surprised them in two nights before. Their eyes grew wide as Wailach charged the gate. One had the sense to grab his spear. Then Ebek was upon him. The man let out a frightened scream. The weapon clattered to the ground. He stumbled right into the horse's path. Joana dug her fingers into the horse's mane. She hardly felt the collision when it happened. The man simply disappeared under the whirring hooves. Then they had reached the gate. The path was clear but Wailach halted once more. He reared on his hind legs and brayed triumphantly. Ebek was circling overhead like a hawk.
Then the steed and on it Joana turned their backs on Tramir and were off down the road in a flash.
... to be continued ...