Voidhawk - the White Lady Read online

  “Hurry!” Logan demanded.

  Bekka pushed him aside and crawled through the window. He heard her gasp then fall to the ground outside. When she rolled back to her feet Logan saw the dark spot staining her shirt. His eyes went to the window, spotting a jagged piece of glass with cloth fibers clinging to it.

  “Women are doing your fighting for you!” Logan called out. He rushed to the table that blocked the door and put his hands upon it to push it free.

  Beren put his hand on the other side, resisting Logan’s push. “Just because they’re fool enough to risk the dead don’t mean we are!”

  “You fool!” Logan spat at him. He pushed the table again but the larger man held it fast against him. Logan felt something stir deep inside of him. It coiled around the base of his spine and rumbled through his belly. Logan gasped at the ferocity of it. When next he looked up he felt his lips pulled back into a snarl. “Move. Now!”

  “Stand down, there’s no need for more blood!” Beren warned.

  Logan grabbed the table and flipped it up and into Beren’s face and chest. The warrior fell back under the heavy wooden missile. Logan immediately set to the bench pulled against the door and then drew back the bar. An arrow slammed into the door beside his head, causing him to pause.

  Charles was nocking another arrow as Logan looked at him. Logan snarled, feeling the urge to leap at the man and rip his throat out. Arawn was helping Beren out from under the table. Liam watched out the window, occasionally glancing inside.

  “You open that door and you’ll be the death of us all,” Herram warned.

  “You try and stop me and I’ll be the death of you,” Logan growled. He took deep breaths, feeling how close he was to losing control. He stared meaningfully at Charles until the other man relaxed the tension on his bow. Logan nodded then turned and threw open the door so he could join his friends.

  Bekka had slipped in the mud already. She rose up holding both arms extended and creating a mystical shield the blunted the attack of a skeleton. Logan saw that Bailynn had freed the screaming girl and now kept her behind her. Several skeletons approached, seeking to surround Bailynn and the girl. Bekka, likewise, had attracted the attention of several of the White Lady’s minions. The injured merchant rushed to his daughter and was ignored by the skeletons.

  Logan forced himself to find a semblance of inner peace. The beast retreated, clearing his head enough to let him think. He reached down at his side but his mace had been left in his pack in the room, forgotten in his haste.

  “Here!”

  Logan turned and saw Herram standing in the open doorway. He tossed his steel bound cudgel to him, then slammed the door shut. Logan heard the bar being drawn back across it. They were alone against the White Lady’s minions. With no more thought to it he turned back to his friends and rushed to their aid.

  * * * *

  Bailynn wiped water mixed with blood from her brow. She finished surveying the battlefield and turned to look at Logan and Bekka. Bekka was bent over, a hand just below her belly while she sought to catch her breath. Her clothing beneath her hand was tinged red with her blood.

  Logan watched his companions and looked to the young woman Bailynn had rescued. She was clinging to her father, who seemed none the worse for wear other than the injuries to his arm. He winced and glanced down. He’d not escaped the battle without injury, but unlike most of the past injuries he’d taken these continued to sting.

  “You look perplexed,” Bekka said as she limped over to him.

  “I seldom get hurt, a side effect of the curse,” he admitted. “But what of you? I saw you hurt yourself on the broken glass. Let me have a look.”

  “Inside, out of the rain and the public I think.”

  “Of course!” Logan stammered, ashamed at his own thoughtlessness. He glanced around and saw the rain was letting up. The fog grew thicker to replace it. “Come, to the inn!”

  The skeletons lay scattered in piles and broken pieces. Logan had lost count once he learned that they had no true intelligence of their own. They seemed guided or controlled by someone. Bailynn went to the merchant and his daughter and brought them with her back to the inn. Logan beat the cudgel against the door while waiting for them to arrive.

  “They’ve been destroyed, let us back in!” Logan called out.

  “Logan!” Bekka hissed, pointing with the hand that wasn’t cradling her injury.

  He followed her gaze but found it unnecessary, twin red dots approached through the fog. The vapors swirled in the air around it, eventually revealing another skeleton, this one on the back of an undead horse. Evil red lights shone in its eye sockets, staring at them. Its jaw clacked once, teeth against teeth, then it turned and rode off on the unholy steed.

  “Bailynn, stop!” Logan called. She’d already started after the latest skeleton. She stopped and looked back at the priest. “We must take care of these people.”

  Bailynn nodded and hurried over to him, moving as though the many scratches she wore were no more than paint upon her skin. When Logan was sure she was joining them he turned and beat on the door again. It opened a minute later, revealing a scowling Beren standing with sword and shield at the ready.

  Logan pushed past him, ignoring him, and helped Bekka to a table. She climbed upon it stiffly then lay on her back. The injury was below the waistline of the padded shirt. The cloth armor had protected her belly but the gash to her lower abdomen was dangerously low. Logan froze as he pulled her breeches lower, searching for the entirety of the injury. It was his job as a healer to put such matters of the flesh aside, but for some reason he was having a hard time doing that with Bekka.

  “It’s okay, Logan, I’m not shy.” Bekka’s words startled him.

  He glanced up at her and smiled, thankful that she’d mistaken his hesitation. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves and found the limit of the gouge less than an inch further towards the union of her thighs. He was relieved to be spared viewing her intimately, but also disappointed. He pushed the crude thought aside and pressed his hands to the wound. He felt the connection to his spiritual magic instantly and let it flow through him, cleansing his thoughts.

  He lifted his hands a moment later and saw fresh pink skin beneath the drying blood and water drops on her otherwise smooth flesh. Logan yanked his hands away and turned, looking for anything to keep him distracted. Without the flow of his magic his distractions returned tenfold.

  “Bailynn! Let me check your wounds,” Logan said.

  “Just scratches, I can handle them,” She assured him.

  Logan frowned, then remembered the merchant and his daughter. The girl was fine, just shaken, but he remembered how her father had been hurt early on. He went to tend on him, grateful for the opportunity to put some distance between himself and the suddenly confusing sorceress.

  “Hey, priest!”

  Logan turned. Beren stood behind him, chest swollen with air and a stony expression on his face. Logan wondered if the fool was spoiling for a fight or just trying to recover some pride.

  “You fought well,” Beren offered. He stood there as though he expected a concession from Logan.

  “I fought for a greater purpose than my own life,” Logan said.

  Beren grunted and turned away. Logan watched him for a moment, replaying the earlier events in his mind. His eyes were drawn to the girl first, then to Bailynn and Bekka. He left Beren moping behind him and walked over to his friends. “Why did the skeletons go for you?”

  “What? The same reason they fought you.” Bekka reached up to toy with her a lock of wet hair that lay against her shirt. It was a habit she’d picked up since growing her hair out, something that Logan knew meant she was curious but confused.

  “Aye, they fought, but they tried to capture you, not kill you. Me they tried to kill.” Both women looked at him, at a loss to explain his observation. “Am I wrong?”

  As one they shook their head. The attacks against them had been attempts to grab and restrain the
m. “I don’t know… why would they want us and not you?” Bekka asked.

  “The White Lady captures women. Girls mostly,” Liam said.

  Logan turned to start at the wizard. Liam waved away a glaring look from Arawn. “No one knows why, and none of the girls that are taken are ever seen again.”

  “Has anyone ever seen this White Lady?” Bailynn asked. She was flexing her hands into fists again.

  “None of us seen her,” Arawn admitted. “Rumors only. Black robes and hair, but pale as a ghost, she is. Fingers like claws, black nails and all. They say her eyes is black too, black and able to suck the life out of a man!”

  “Sounds like somebody Rosh might be interested in,” Bailynn offered. Logan frowned at her to let her know the attempt at humor was ill-timed. She shrugged and looked away.

  “Women, young girls mostly… That sounds macabre,” Logan said. “If the White Lady is a woman, what use would she have for such people?”

  Bekka hissed, drawing Logan’s look. “Do you remember the Festival of Lords? Remember what almost happened to Jenna?”

  Logan felt his eyes widen as the memories rushed in. Jenna was the Voidhawk’s first mate and, more importantly, Dexter’s wife. Back then the relationship between the Captain and her had yet to fully develop. It was due to the wizard that enslaved the people of that port that Dexter had realized his true feelings for her. The wizard had tried to take over her body and move his mind into hers. Dexter had arrived in time to stop it.

  “You think this White Lady seeks to live forever through the lives of others?” Logan asked.

  Bekka shrugged. “It’s possible.”

  Bailynn scowled. “We should do something about it!”

  “What should we do?” Logan asked. He held up his hands to stop any arguments and looked to the rest in the room. “We’re alone in this, yes? None of you has any wish to help?”

  “No one even knows where she lairs. A castle? A tower? Something else altogether? No one’s fool enough to follow her armies.”

  Bailynn spat out a curse. The adventurers looked at her in surprise. Beren even chuckled until he noticed no one else found it funny. “We could have followed one tonight! You stopped me!”

  Logan nodded. “Aye, and I’d do it again. ‘Lynn there’s only the three of us, we’d stand no chance against a horde of such unholy creations.”

  She scowled and muttered something too quiet for Logan to pick up. Bekka glanced at her sharply, then looked at Logan and shook her head just enough for him to intuit he shouldn’t pursue the topic.

  “So what now?” Logan asked. “We’re alone and have no idea where to go. What remains?”

  “The Fayer,” Bekka stated. The announcement brought gasps and mutters from the natives of Kelios. Logan was shocked at her disregard for the fate of the people in the village and he was sure it showed on his open mouthed face. “I don’t mean to turn our backs on this, I mean we go there to learn what we can. They possess great knowledge and wisdom, they can tell us more about her. Perhaps even offer help?”

  Liam barked out a scornful laugh. “The Fayer give nothing without taking! Tricksters and worse! Their swamp lights lure fools to their deaths and those that don’t fall prey are charmed and seduced by the Fayer themselves. Bah, only fools seek to learn from creatures so fickle and mad.”

  “Have you ever petitioned them?” Bekka challenged.

  He snorted. “I’m no fool!”

  Bekka nodded, her fingers twisting her hair around them. Logan noticed she was biting her lip as well while glaring at the wizard. He was sure he and Bekka shared an opinion of the value of the information and character of those gathered in the inn with them. “The Fayer it is then.”

  Bekka jerked to her feet, her hands dropping to her side. Her eyes searched Logan’s. The priest nodded to her. “Let’s get our things and be on our way.”

  She nodded back, her eyes shimmering with wetness. Logan smiled and followed her, ignoring the angry muttering in the common room behind them.

  Chapter 3

  The fog burned away by mid morning, allowing the sun to restore warmth to the countryside. Logan found himself sweating well before noon, with the warmth came an oppressive humidity. He watched Bekka throw back the hood of her cloak then remove the cloak entirely and wrap it around her pack. He tried not to stare when she unlaced her shirt to let the air reach the layered undershirt she wore as armor.

  Bailynn pressed on, driven and silent. Bekka called a halt at mid day, drawing a scowl from Bailynn. Logan made his way over to the petite woman, sipping water from the skin he carried.

  “Don’t rush out like that again,” He said, speaking of her earlier actions. “Bekka hurt herself trying to catch you and I feared the worst because it took me so long.”

  Bailynn glanced at him then looked away. “I’d do it again,” she said, sounding very much like the rebellious teenager her body resembled. “I won’t let anyone get hurt like that.”

  “I understand how you feel, ‘Lynn. I agree with you, even. But acting alone like that could have gotten you killed or taken along with that girl.”

  “You don’t understand,” she muttered. Her voice rose as she turned to look at him with a fire in her eyes. “Nobody understands! You don’t know what it’s like to be taken from everything and be used against your will. I will always help, even if it means I might be hurt or killed. I’ve been there – I know I can handle it!”

  Logan heard Bekka walking up to them but he dared not look at away from the troubled woman. “We all have our burdens, Bailynn. Yours is terrible. Worse than most I’ve heard. I’ve lost sleep over wondering how I can help you. But you have to know that we want to help you. We are friends and that’s what we do, we help one another.”

  “Losing you wouldn’t help anyone, ‘Lynn,” Bekka added in a soft voice.

  Bailynn looked away, then raised her head up to let them see the moisture in her eyes. “It’s all I have, knowing what I can endure. Whatever I could have been is gone. This is what I am. I know I owe you both more than I can ever repay. Please don’t ask me to give up the one thing that I’m sure of.”

  “Defining yourself as someone who can survive being hurt and used is not a good way to live,” Logan advised.

  “For now it’s enough,” she answered.

  Logan sighed. “I’ll find a way to show you what Bekka and I see when we look at you. There’s so much more to you than that.”

  “I know something else,” she said confidently. “I’m also going to kill the White Lady.”

  Bekka gasped. Logan ignored the half elf and focused instead on Bailynn. “Violence is not always the best answer.”

  Bailynn’s lips curled into a small smile. “Maybe you should embrace it, seems it’s a part of you that you’re denying. It can get a lot more done than you realize.”

  It was Logan’s turn to gasp. He recovered quickly, choosing his words with care. “My curse is my burden to bear. Giving in to it would cause greater crimes, by far.”

  “I know what it’s like to have a beast inside of you,” Bailynn said, her eyes trapping Logan and preventing him from looking away. “The elves took me because they found something deep inside of me that they could use for their own ends. They nurtured it and helped it grow, then forced me to embrace it. The elders fixed what was broken, but the beast is part of me, it always was. It’s still there and I’m not afraid of it. Now I’m in control of it. Take control of yours Logan, stop running.”

  Logan blinked and looked away. Bailynn didn’t understand. She couldn’t know what it was. He shook his head. “Violence must be the last resort,” he insisted. The words sounded almost like a plea even to his own ears. “Let’s keep moving, the sooner we can reach the Fayer and try to find a non-violent resolution to this problem, the better.”

  Logan ignored the sigh from Bailynn and waited patiently until they were ready to continue. Bekka led the way, saying nothing but giving him the benefit of a raised eyebrow as she passed him.
The rest of the afternoon passed similarly, with little talk amongst them. Logan found the silence troubling, it forced him to search within himself and listen over and over again to the words Bailynn had spoken. He fought her simple logic every time, using both the religious doctrine he’d grown up with as well as his moral sense of right and wrong.

  Still her words plagued him all the way until Bekka called a halt for the night. The sun was nearly setting, he realized, and that gave him little time to prepare himself for the coming moonrise. There was no village this time, only a flat section where others had already set up their own camps.

  Logan cast about, desperate for privacy. The best they could do was to put distance between themselves and the others, who seemed somewhat collected together. Three campfires marked smaller groups of travelers and another had two wagons pulled together. Whether they were traders or simply transporting goods he had no idea, nor any desire to waste the time to find out.

  Logan pointed out his preferred campsite and went about quickly trying to help them set up camp. Bailynn stopped him with a hand on his shoulder as he knelt to pick up some previously charred sticks. Fearing the worst, he turned to look at her. Already he could feel his belly tightening with the pull of the moon. The feared confrontation with the former elven slayer did nothing to lessen the churning.

  “I didn’t mean to push you earlier, I’m sorry,” Bailynn told him. “Give me your rope, I’ll bind you before the sun sets.”

  Logan started at the surprising apology. He nodded, not sure what to say, and pulled off his pack so he could remove the rope. She took it and stared thoughtfully at it, then motioned for him to sit down. “No trees, I’ll bind you as you sit. It won’t be comfortable.”

  He nodded. Comfort was the least of his concern.

  “After all you’d done for me I was excited when I learned your secret,” Bailynn said to him as she wrapped the rope around him. “I thought to myself that if we survived, you and I had something in common. I could help you understand it, help you use it. Repay some of my debt to you and perhaps who knows what might have happened.”