Voidhawk - the White Lady Read online

  “Unicorns?” Bekka said in a hushed tone.

  Logan nodded. He’d heard of such beasts but never seen them. They’d always been spoken of as though they were legends and myths, though it was seldom that one who sailed the void discounted anything as a myth. There were too many worlds and too much variety for stories to not have come from somewhere.

  The herd moved on, melting away into the forest as quickly as they’d come out of it. A loud crack of thunder broke the moment and heralded in stronger gusts of wind and rain. With a groan, Bekka started forward again, splashing mud with every step.

  The weather made the next two hours of their hike seem like a lifetime. It was Bekka again who interrupted the miserable journey. She called out to warn the others of a light shining through the gloom ahead. As they approached they saw shapes in the darkness that confirmed the light was attached to a building. Other shapes began to take form, reassuring them that they’d entered a village.

  Logan entered the inn first, pausing only briefly in the doorway to judge the inhabitants. Several empty tables remained and of those that were filled none of the men or women concerned him. They were regular folk, farmers and merchants mostly, with a group of four sitting at a table in the corner outfitted for adventure. Two of them wore leathers while a third was dressed more casually but wore a vest decorated with trinkets and pockets. A fourth wore a chain hauberk and had both a sword and shield resting against the wall beside him.

  “Trouble?” Bekka asked, coming up beside him and following his gaze.

  “I don’t think so,” He responded. “Just mercenaries I expect. Come, let’s eat and be off.”

  “You want to go back out in that?” Bailynn blurted.

  “Before the sun sets, yes.”

  “Come, we’re making a spectacle.” Bekka hurried over to a table and pulled out her chair. She slipped off her cloak and ran her fingers through her sodden hair before sitting down. Logan motioned with his head to the table, allowing Bailynn to sit beside Bekka. Logan chose the far side of the table, respecting whatever issues Bailynn was having with him and not wanting to press them.

  “I’m still not used to having so much hair. It’s been a long time, since I was a little girl, since it’s been this long.”

  “It’s pretty.” Bailynn had turned to look at Bekka and offered her a faint smile with the compliment.

  “Willa wanted me to grow it out,” Bekka fell silent after speaking of their fallen friend.

  Logan sighed. It had been years now since Willa had been lost to the void. They’d stayed and worked with Dexter and Jenna for a while, helping to restore order to the Elven Empire – or what was left of it. The Federation had pushed at the borders, retaking worlds and systems. They refrained from pushing deeply into systems traditionally held to be elven, making it easier for Logan to serve as an ambassador between nations.

  Stability returned as the elves struggled to adopt a new culture. It would be generations in the making, and for beings as long lived as the elves it would be long past Logan’s time in the void was up before the changes were lasting.

  A serving maid stopped by their table to take their orders. After she’d left Logan allowed his thoughts to drift. Bekka and Willa had grown close at the end. So close that Rosh had assumed there was something between them. Bekka neither denied nor confirmed it, and he’d never felt the urge to pry it out of her. It was her business, even if he’d heard her crying in her cabin from time to time.

  Bailynn was something else. He wondered how he might restore their trust and closeness. He almost chuckled at the thought. How could he ask someone else to trust him when he didn’t even trust himself?

  “Logan, when we were trapped beneath the lake in that cave you said you could fight off the effects of your curse. Likewise when the elder’s fleet was being recovered, you hid in the underground caverns at night. With the clouds and having a roof over our head won’t it be much the same? Is it the moon itself that brings about the change?”

  Logan listened to the sorceress talk. He smiled sadly and shook his head. “Direct moonlight is the worst, but even a reflection of it will affect me. The walls of houses and castles are not enough.”

  “We’ve landed on moons before, why don’t those bother you?” Bailynn challenged.

  “I’ve wondered that same thing. It’s part of the nature of the curse. Only a moon can affect me when I’m on a planet. I don’t understand it.”

  “I can’t imagine what that would be like,” Bekka said. She took a deep breath and let it out, then shivered. Logan wasn’t sure if it was from the chill of the rain or his condition. “To have something like that trapped inside of you, something so vicious and terrible.”

  Logan noticed Bailynn fidgeting with her hands on the table, her eyes cast downward. “’Lynn, are you all right?”

  She snapped her head up to meet his gaze. She snapped her mouth shut and nodded, then looked to Bekka. Logan noted that her hands slipped to the gloves tucked into her belt, as though their presence alone comforted her.

  The gloves had been a gift from the elders and they were very much a weapon. The elders had removed the worst of the corruption the elves had done to Bailynn, leaving her human again, though trapped in the body of the same person she’d been when the elves had taken her. She’d been a dangerous opponent, able to tear flesh and wood with her hands and teeth before. After years of fighting with tooth and nail now her body was no longer a weapon. It was only the body of a girl who’d taken only the first physical steps to maturing into a woman.

  The gloves gave her back some of that. When she put them on they melded with her hands and gave her the claws and the strength she was accustomed to. She’d also learned that her magical strength was gone, now she had to work out regularly to maintain it.

  “Logan, I have an idea – do you mind if we try something tonight?”

  Logan felt his eyebrow raise. “Go on.”

  “Perhaps I can put up a ward around you – something to help keep the moonlight at bay when the small moon rises.”

  The idea had some merit, but Logan wondered if it could truly work. “Is this just a thought, or do you have something you believe might work?”

  “Both,” Bekka said with a twist of her lips. “We’ll bind you tighter than ever to make sure though. And I can silence the sounds in our room to insure no one else hears anything.”

  Logan waited as the waitress returned with their food and drinks. After she left he took a long drink of the water she’d brought and considered Bekka’s offer. With Bailynn’s skill with a rope he would, at the worst, end up bound again all night. If Bekka could prevent anyone from hearing him, then perhaps it might be all right. The smaller moon had proven a manageable threat. He wouldn’t dare risk it when the larger moon was full, but he had a dozen days or so until he had to deal with that.

  “We can try.”

  Chapter 2

  Logan had drifted off to sleep when somebody banged on the door to their room. Bailynn flew out of the sleeping pallet she’d made on the floor, landing on her feet and pulling her gloves on. She saw Bekka sitting up in bed in alarm. Both women looked at Logan but he was still fast asleep from his ordeal.

  It had seemed easier for him, though Bailynn had done her best to ignore the struggle. Now she wondered if it hadn’t been easy enough. “Logan?”

  Bekka turned to look at the priest. She frowned, then nodded. “I’ll hide him.”

  “Hide him?” Bailynn hissed. The pounding at the door came again. “How?”

  Bekka ignored her. She closed her eyes and began to whisper words that sounded alien to Bailynn’s ears. She turned to Logan and saw no difference. “There’s no difference!”

  “Not to us,” Bekka said, “but we know he’s there. Answer the door. Hurry!”

  Bailynn scowled at the sorceress but turned and did as she asked. Nobody greeted her on the other side. She peered out into the hall and saw one of the leather armor wearing men that had sat at the co
rner table moving down the hall. He glanced back at her and stopped. “Found you!” He said.

  “Aye,” Bailynn answered, uncertain if being found was a good thing or not.

  “Your parents had the look of seasoned folks, we’ve need of them.”

  Bailynn felt her teeth grinding. “My parents are younger than I am!”

  He stopped his approach and stared at her, mouth agape. His eyes looked her up and down, then he shrugged. “Don’t have the look of it, but we seen plenty of things that don’t make sense. Can you bring your friends to the common room? The White Lady’s sent her unholy troops again.”

  “White lady?”

  “Hurry, we’ll explain downstairs!”

  Bailynn flexed her fingers, curling them into claws and then relaxing them. She nodded and stepped back in, shutting the door behind her.

  “What was it?” Bekka asked.

  “They want us to come down stairs. Some White Lady sent unholy forces.” Bailynn went to Logan and began to untie the knots. She realized, too late, that she still had her gloves on as she picked at the first knot. She jerked her hand back, expecting the rope to be frayed, but it showed no sign of damage.

  She stripped her gloves off quickly, afraid of damaging the rope even if it seemed the elves had made it hardy. Logan groaned and roused himself as Bailynn untied him. He twisted and looked at the shuttered window.

  “Is it morning already?”

  “No, there’s trouble below, they want our help,” Bailynn said.

  “Trouble?” The priest asked, coming quickly to his senses. “What sort?”

  “Something about the unholy army of someone named the White Lady.”

  Bailynn saw Logan’s eyes widen. “Unholy?” He whispered. She ignored the question and finished releasing the last of the knots. “Aye, he asked me to wake up my parents.”

  She heard Bekka gasp behind her. Logan stared at her, his eyes unblinking as he searched hers. Bailynn held his gaze, feeling a fire simmering inside of her. She broke the stare and looked away before her trembling became obvious. Her parents were dead. Killed by elves before Bekka or Logan had been born. She forced her fists to unclench, realizing that her fingernails had dug painfully into her palms. Her fingernails that were normal human nails, not the deadly weapons they’d once been.

  “’Lynn, I’m sorry,” Bekka whispered.

  Bailynn shook her head. “The gift of eternal youth, most women dream of such things,” She forced a smile. “Hurry up, let’s see what this unholy mess is. Probably drunkards playing on their superstitions.”

  Bekka pulled on the loose fitting breeches she favored, sliding them up beneath her long shirt and tying them shut. With no apparent concern about the lack of privacy she stripped off her long sleep shirt next. Bailynn turned to see Logan’s eyes widen before he quickly looked away from the beautiful sorceress. Since she’d grown her hair out it added to her appeal, though seldom did anyone have the chance to notice her for the baggy clothing she wore.

  “Bekka!” Logan gasped.

  Bekka paused, then pulled on the tighter fitting padded shirt the elves had given her. She worked the laces on the front, pulling and tying them as quick as she could. While she worked she addressed Logan, “Seemed easier than worrying about asking you to step out. Besides, we spent over 12,000 years with you naked.”

  Bailynn saw the blush on Logan’s cheeks. “That was beyond my control. I appreciate your desire for haste, I ask only that you warn me next time.”

  “Warn you? ! I didn’t… Oh, you’re right. I’m sorry. Yes, I will.” Bekka stammered. She quickly slipped her traveling shirt over the soft armor.

  “What happened to your priestly values?” Bailynn asked. She regretted the question immediately. Logan had done her no wrong, but she couldn’t stop herself from sniping at him. He’d helped her many times. They’d all helped her. Bekka had kept her control ring safe before Rosh had destroyed it and set her free. Logan had carried her and requested that the elders mend her broken body and spirit. Dexter had taught her so much and given her freedom. Jenna had risked her life and proved that not all elves are cruel and wicked. The list went on for her. Always somebody helping her, when she had been trained and crafted to be virtually unstoppable.

  “I have no vows of chastity,” Logan said. “Only a deep respect for my friends.”

  Bailynn turned away before Logan could see the shame she felt. She went to the door and stepped through it, unwilling to endure it any longer. She waited outside for a long moment, listening even as her heart hammered in her chest. She pulled her gloves back on and hurried down the passage and to the stairs beyond.

  She had no idea what awaited her but she longed for a challenge. Since the elders had healed her she’d felt useless in a fight. Her gloves changed how she felt even though she’d not had the chance yet to test them. With the fire burning hotter inside her she ached for a chance to prove that she could still fight. She yearned to be useful again and to not need to rely upon the good will of others.

  An unholy army? She not only hoped so, she welcomed it!

  * * * *

  Logan bounded down the stairs, his concern for Bailynn’s odd behavior at war with the image burned in his mind of Bekka’s nude torso, her breasts just barely concealed by her decadent black locks of hair. He tried to purge the vision from his mind, there were immediate concerns he had to deal with.

  He entered the common room and saw the warrior stood near the door. A table had been pushed against it but still he waited. His two companions stood back, one with a sword at hand and the other with an arrow knocked in his bow. The fourth was staring out a crack in one of the shuttered windows while he absent-mindedly traced an elliptical charm on his shirt.

  “What’s the matter?” Logan asked. Two other women, one a serving girl and the other looking to be her mother, stood behind the bar near a door into the kitchen. The barkeep stood in the middle of the room, a sturdy wooden cudgel held in his hand. Bailynn was near another window, the shudders opened just enough to let her see out of them.

  “The White Lady’s on the prowl again. She’s looking for something,” The barkeep said.

  “What’s she looking for?” Bekka asked, surprising Logan with how quickly she’d followed him. “And who is she?”

  “We call her the White Lady because she’s got skin as white as snow. Some say she’s a ghost herself!” The bartender slapped the cudgel against his palm for emphasis.

  “You don’t know that!” His wife snapped at him.

  “She’s a witch, we know that for sure!” He hissed at her. “No doubting that.”

  Her daughter met her gaze. The barkeep’s wife nodded. “True enough. No sane or right person has an army like that.”

  “Like what?” Logan wondered aloud.

  “The dead walking again!” Muttered the wizard.

  Logan looked to Bailynn and called her name. It took a second time for her to turn and meet his gaze. He rocked back at the sight of her. There was an excitement in her eyes that nearly made her gaze burn with intensity. Her cheeks were pale, a stark contrast to the flash of red her pulled back lips displayed. She closed her mouth and nodded. “Aye, no heart beats in these chests.”

  Logan hurried over, stumbling over a chair in the process. He pushed it aside and leaned in to look over Bailynn’s head. He jerked back with a gasp. Dozens of them approached, obscured by the rain and the fog. They were searching for something, tipping carts and stands over and trying doors.

  More important than what they were doing was what they were. “Skeletons?” He whispered.

  Bailynn grinned again.

  “My name is Bekka.”

  Logan jerked again, Bekka’s voice pulling him from his shock. He looked around and saw the others staring at her, then nodded and returned their own names. Beren was the warrior. Charles was the bowman and Arawn the swordsman. The wizard’s name was Liam. Logan followed suit, naming himself and then a moment later Bailynn when he saw she was focu
sed again on the view through the window. He also noticed she was carving scratches in the sill of the window as she waited.

  “This happen often?” Logan asked.

  “Once every week or two,” Herram, the barkeep, said. He glanced at Bekka and added, “She’s sent them to look for somebody we think, no idea who.”

  “How do you-”

  Logan’s question was interrupted by a scream. He spun around to look out the window but found Bailynn had thrown the shutters wide already. Across the street the door to a store had been left unlocked. The skeletons were dragging out a young woman who was kicking and screaming. A man came out, bleeding from scratches on his face, shoulder, and hand. He rushed the skeleton that had taken her hostage, sword in hand.

  He pulled back his blade, seeking to strike the unholy thing, but hesitated. With nothing but bones and scraps of flesh hanging from them, he risked hitting the girl. Logan muttered a quick prayer, drawing a glance from Bailynn. She looked at the door that was secured fast, then returned to the window. Without a second glance she reached out and smashed the glass with her hand. A few quick swipes cleared the rest of it before anyone could react, then she sprang through the window.

  “’Lynn! Wait!” Logan called. He turned to the others and shouted. “Clear the door!”

  By the time Logan had turned back to the window another skeleton had joined the one that held the girl hostage. It slashed out, cutting jagged rips across the father’s back. He stumbled a step away before turning and hacking with the sword he held. Chips of bone flew from the exposed rib cage but the skeleton showed no pain or concern. It grabbed the man’s arm, its bony fingers digging into his flesh and dropping him to his knees. The sword fell from his hand.

  Bailynn leapt upon the back of the skeleton, toppling it to the ground and pulling it away from the injured merchant. Her clawed gloves struck with the same force as the merchant’s blade, chipping and breaking bone to minimal effect. She scrambled off the struggling abomination only so she could reposition herself. She jammed her hands like daggers into its skull, knocking the head aside. She grabbed its spine in both hands, twisting and crushing it until the head rolled free.