Voidhawk - the White Lady Read online

  “You don’t owe me anything,” Logan said, distracted from his internal distress by what Bailynn was saying. “I helped because I care about you, Bailynn.”

  “I know you care,” she said, drawing on a rope so tightly it made him wince. “I’ve seen the way you look at Bekka.”

  Logan twisted his head to look at her but she ignored him. He felt a sudden urge to yank himself free of the ropes but it was already too late, she’d bound his arms and feet well and still she continued to loop the rope around him. He’d asked for as much in the past but this new side of Bailynn he was seeing troubled him.

  “Did you ever stop to think that maybe it’s not a curse, but a gift? Maybe you have this thing inside of you to help you, not to punish you?”

  Bailynn pulled hard on the last knot, the rope burning against Logan’s skin. She stared at him for a long moment then glanced up at the eastern sky. “The moon’s already risen. The sun will set in a moments.”

  Logan jerked his head away from her intense gaze and looked at the darkening sky. She was right, the moon had risen. He felt a lurch inside of him that made his entire body shudder. He grunted and fell onto his side. Bailynn knelt down beside him to help him up. “Leave me!” Logan hissed, fighting a sudden pressure in his spin.

  She backed away, staring at him. He was barely aware of the last rays of the sun leaving her ethereal hair as it slipped beneath the horizon.

  * * * *

  The following day burned the last of the puddles free. Logan was weary as they walked, not in his body but in his soul. Bailynn’s words plagued him still, challenging his beliefs in spite of the years he’d spent erecting his defenses. He kept glancing to Bekka, desperate for something to pull him out of his fugue but found himself looking away just as quickly. He was fearful Bailynn would catch him and assume his interest in the sorceress had an ulterior origin.

  And what of Bailynn’s interest? She’d mentioned wanting to know what could happen between them, but she looked young enough to be his daughter! It was looks only, but he’d seen evidence enough to know that the trials the elves had inflicted upon her had slowed her growth in some ways. Emotionally she often acted as old as she appeared, even if she’d seen and done far more than any young woman could imagine.

  They came upon a crossroads, preventing Logan from further recrimination. It had once been a proper crossroads with roads in all four directions. Now only three remained, the road that led to the south faded into tall grasses within a dozen feet.

  “The directions I got said the Fayer live beyond the marshes on the far edge of these grasslands,” Bekka explained. “Quicker by far to go straight, but they say the plains are a dangerous place seldom visited. Animals a plenty, but in particular there are a tribe of beings that roam them. They trade with others, but brook no trespass within the lands they claim as their own.”

  “Is there another route?” Logan asked, eyeing the two roads that ran to the west and east.

  “Aye, the east runs along the plains then forks off. The southern fork can get us there but it will add days to the trip.”

  “We’re wasting time.” Bailynn stepped forward towards the abandoned southern trail.

  “Bailynn, please wait a moment,” Logan asked her. The intemperance she showed had been growing for years, but now it seemed to consume her. She hesitated, looking back at him for a moment then looking at Bekka as Logan asked the sorceress his question. “What kind of people are these?”

  “Part man, part lion,” she explained with a shrug to show she knew little more. “They call themselves gajrin.”

  “Which parts?” Bailynn asked, stymied by the unimaginable creatures ahead of them.

  “They possess the body of a great cat, from tail to all four limbs. Instead of a neck and head they have the upper body of a human, including arms. Their faces are said to look feline as well.”

  Bailynn cursed again, a reminder that they’d spent many years as sailors in the void. Logan nodded. “They’re tribal,” Bekka added.

  “Last tribal people I ran into ended up being pretty friendly,” Logan mused. It helped that they’d thought Rosh was a god and the other members of the party were either Rosh’s servants or lesser gods.

  “Can we go now?” Bailynn asked.

  Bekka smiled and glanced at Logan. He sighed and nodded. “Bekka, is there anything you can do to hide us?”

  She frowned. “If we were standing still yes, but moving would be too hard for me. I’m…I’m not a very good witch.”

  “You’re very good,” Logan reassured her with a smile. He noticed Bailynn turn away out of the corner of his eye. “As for your magic,” he continued, “you just need more practice or perhaps a tutor.”

  “Aye, I hope the Fayer feel the same.”

  Logan and Bekka followed after Bailynn, catching up to her but not passing her. The shorter woman refused to slow her pace. Logan kept his mouth shut. He was tempted to speak to her but he knew it would only cause more problems. Besides, at the pace she was forcing they’d be across the plains in no time!

  Less than an hour since they’d left the road behind and crested a ridge to climb onto the plains their luck ran out. A javelin slammed into the ground a few feet in front of them, the shaft quivering over the three foot tall grasses. They looked about and spotted the gajrin responsible off in the distance.

  “That’s over a hundred yards!” Logan observed, amazed with the throw.

  Bailynn scowled and crouched low, minimizing herself as a target. She slipped her gloves on even as she moved. “’Lynn, wait!” Bekka cried out, reaching towards her as though she could restrain her.

  “Too late for magic,” Logan warned, seeing two more of the gajrin hunters approach and stand beside the first. They all moved towards them, jogging and moving back and forth as they closed the distance rapidly.

  “We seek to cross these plains,” Logan said, holding up his hands in a show of peace. “We wish no harm.”

  The first yanked his spear free of the ground and pointed it at Logan’s chest. The second one held a spear of his own in hand that he pointed at Bailynn. The third did the same, circling to get behind them and keep Bekka under close watch. The biggest difference with the third was that she was clearly a female of the gajrin species.

  They were exactly as Bekka had described them, though their human torsos were covered with a short hair that was almost like a fur. Their bellies and chests had finer white fur, showing the skin beneath. In the case of the gajrin that guarded Bekka it also left on display breasts that looked very human in appearance. Their pupils had the slits of a cat and their nose was cleft much the same. Their teeth were sharp, designed for biting and tearing meat. Pointed ears continued the feline resemblance, and both of the males had long hair much like the mane of a lion. The female’s head was covered with the same fur that grew from her back and arms.

  “You trespass!” The male said, jabbing his spear at Logan but not enough to touch him. “You are prisoners, come with us!”

  Bailynn shook her head and growled. “Bailynn, wait! We can’t fight them, this is their land!”

  “What will you do with us?” Bekka asked, delaying the meltdown Bailynn was fast approaching.

  “You will come to our tribe and be judged. Fail and your heads will be on our spears as a warning to others of your kind!” The female gajrin said with a snarl. She made a slashing motion with her spear. Bekka blinked but stayed her ground as the spear cut the air several inches in front of her throat.

  “See Bailynn, they’re going to give us a chance to talk to them,” Bekka said, turning her head slightly so she could see Bailynn out of the corner of her eye.

  The former elven slayer grumbled under her breath but eventually spoke loud enough to be understood. “Fine.”

  The male gajrin threatened Logan with his spear again then turned abruptly, moving with a feline grace that seemed awkward for someone so large. Digging his powerful hindquarters in he pounced ahead and motioned with hi
s spear for the others to follow.

  Logan looked to the others and nodded. “Into the lion’s den,” he offered. Bailynn’s brooding glare showed his comment left much to be desired.

  The pace set by the four legged gajrin left Logan sweating. A glance at his companions assured him they felt similar. Less than an hour later they approached a village made of huts and tents. Other gajrin came out to greet them. The greetings changed to roars of outrage. Before they reached the village over three dozen gajrin awaited them.

  A path through the creatures opened before them, allowing them to be led to a mound of earth with a large tree growing out of it. Four gajrin stood at guard around the base of it, one in each cardinal direction. Their spears had feathers and charms hanging from the shafts but remained fully functional. Necklaces with teeth, bones, and other less savory trophies adorned their necks. The guards were all females of the species.

  Upon the mound sat a male gajrin. His hair was tinged with white, offering credence to his age and experience. He wore a necklace like his guards, though his had only teeth threaded through it. The size of the teeth impressed Logan, he wondered if some of them were tusks rather than teeth so large were they.

  “My hunters tell me you have trespassed upon our land,” the chief of the gajrin said. “What have you to say for yourselves?”

  “We—”

  Bailynn interrupted Logan. “Every minute you delay us is a minute a child might be taken and killed. We harmed no one, let us be on our way!”

  His growl was a low pitched rumble that raised the hair on Logan’s skin. He turned to stare at Logan directly. He rose up from where he sat, displaying a large and powerful body. He sniffed the air, his gaze still upon Logan. “You let your pride-mate speak for you?”

  Logan heard Bailynn’s soft intake of air. “We are friends, not…a pride,” Logan said. “We seek the Fayer on the far side of your lands.”

  He pawed the ground with a front foot, digging up grass and dirt with his claws. “Foul tricksters!” He roared, making his guards shift and adjust their grips on their spears.

  Logan held up his hand, “I swear it is true! We seek to win their counsel so we might find and stop the White Lady.”

  The chieftain snarled and then chuckled. “The Fayer are tricksters. You are like newborn speyr, unaware of the danger you walk into.”

  Logan turned to Bekka in time to hear her whisper, “Speyr is a plains animal, the gajrin hunt them for food.”

  “You, female, you hold yourself like a huntress,” the chieftain turned to address Bailynn.

  She let her teeth show in what Logan was sure was as much a snarl as a smile. She nodded, her fists clenching and releasing slowly.

  “Know that I am Ragnar, chief of this pride. I have traveled far and dealt with your people. I have hunted your kind and destroyed more than I can count. If you would journey through my lands you must leave the little one so that she can be my servant.”

  Bekka gasped and shook her head. Bailynn crouched slightly, shifting into a position she could easily spring from. Logan called out, buying himself some time. “Our friends aren’t prizes to be traded. Name another condition.”

  “I challenge you!” Bailynn shouted, stunning Logan into silence. “You, Ragnar. Fight me for the right to freedom.”

  Ragnar roared again, deafening Logan for a moment. The other gajrin fell silent at Bailynn’s boastful claim. He dug his hind leg in and kicked out, tearing out a great section of earth with it. “Fighting you is a slight to my honor!” He spat out. “I have bested creatures far better than you! You may fight Hashra, my best huntress.”

  Bailynn had a smug smile on her face as she said, “I’ll beat whoever you send against me.”

  “’Lynn!” Bekka hissed. “They’re three times your size!”

  Bailynn shrugged.

  Ragnar’s chuckle was part laugh and part purr. Logan found it very disturbing. Almost as disturbing as what came next from the gajrin chief. “Take them to the field of honor!”

  Gajrin hunters moved in and separated Bailynn. Logan tried to push through to her but was stymied by the polished steel heads of spears. Bailynn was deadly in combat, but she could be hurt or killed. Logan should have been the one to fight, his curse kept all but the most vicious of wounds from lasting.

  Bekka was allowed to join him and together they were escorted, at spear point, through the village to the field of honor. It was a long section of trampled grass. Targets resembling humans and animals were mocked up. The human training dummies were dressed in battered and rent mail.

  Ragnar roared, silencing the crowd. Logan and Bekka were pushed to the front so they could see the battle about to unfold. Already Bailynn stood apart from the others and opposite her a female gajrin stood in the clearing. She jammed her spear into the ground and stepped away from it. Hashra bared her teeth and roared at Bailynn. Bailynn crouched lower and showed her own teeth in response.

  “She’s mad,” Logan muttered, fearing the catastrophe about to take place.

  “She’s something,” Bekka agreed.

  Logan glanced at her, surprised at the strange tone in her voice. Before he could make sense of it Bekka gasped. Logan barely had time to look back and see Hashra leaping through the air. Given her lioness heritage, it was more of a pounce than a leap.

  Bailynn dove to the side before the fierce gajrin landed. Hashra hissed at her and circled, her powerful paws allowing her to sidestep and keep Bailynn turning as she circled the small woman. Bailynn’s hands were stretched out, her fingers curved into claws. Logan knew she still wore her gloves, they merged with her hands when she wore them.

  Bailynn slipped as she turned. She fell back and to her side, throwing herself as she did so. Bekka let out a yelp of fright as Hashra seized the opportunity and was on her. Logan felt the beast within him twist in his belly, making him stiffen.

  Bailynn’s evasion nearly worked. Hashra spat at her as she failed to land one of her paws upon her. Her hand connected with Bailynn’s shoulder, the fingernails upon the huntress’ hand nearly as dangerous as the claws of her paws. Bailynn spun with the strike, blood spraying from her shoulder. She planted her foot as she twisted and launched herself off of it once her turn was complete.

  Bailynn used the arm the huntress had struck her with to swing up and around onto her back. She squeezed her hand on Hashra’s arm, gloves claws tearing into her flesh. Her other arm looped Hashra’s neck, clamping against her forearm. Bailynn pressed herself against Hashra’s back, clamping her teeth down on the huntress where her neck met her shoulder and biting without mercy.

  Hashra howled and thrashed, trying to throw Bailynn. The gajrin leapt straight into the air and when that didn’t dislodge the woman she rolled to the side and onto her back. Logan jerked, fighting the urge to burst forward and go to Bailynn’s aid. Hashra climbed back onto all fours, blood streaming down her chest from the hole at the base of her neck. A second set of four gouges ran across her chest, matting the sparse fur on her chest and belly.

  Bailynn followed her, throwing herself from the ground where’d she been crushed with one leg and one arm. The other hand was stretched out towards her target. She hit the huntress hard, her fingers spearing into the meat of Hashra’s rear leg. Her fingers curled and twisted as Bailynn slammed into the ground. Logan could hear the air burst from her lungs. Bailynn was yanked across the ground several feet as Hashra tried to spin away. Her grisly grip held until Bailynn managed to get a knee under her and use it as leverage to pull back and rip her hand free, tearing muscle and sinew.

  Hashra stumbled, her hindquarter failing to support her. She howled in rage and charged back in off balance. Bailynn scrambled to the side, one arm held tight to her side. It was the side as the shoulder injury Hashra’s earlier attack had struck. Bailynn kept scrambling around, forcing the lame gajrin to circle on her bad leg.

  “Hasn’t she proven enough!” Bekka cried out.

  Logan started, surprised by Bekka’s outbur
st. He agreed with it even though his pulse was pounding in his ears and he longed to leap into battle with Bailynn and strike the overgrown house cat down. He swallowed down the growl that threatened to rise out of his throat. Over the thunder of his own heartbeat and the sound of each panting breath through his clenched teeth he heard the jeers and catcalls from the gathered gajrin. Bekka was ignored.

  Hashra’s leg gave out, dropping her hindquarters to the ground. Bailynn rushed in, throwing one arm up to block a raised paw. She took a punch across her face from the arm Hashra wasn’t using to keep her torso off the ground. She collapsed into the belly of the huntress.

  Logan felt his spine trembling and the hair thickening on his body. Veins stuck out on his arms, neck, and head. Bekka cried out beside him but her report was lost in his battle. He twisted his head, growling and feeling bones beginning to shift. His jaw ached as it began to dislocate and lengthen.

  His vision blurred from the pressure on his eyes Logan heard a howl from Hashra that was a higher pitch than anything before. He fell onto his knees and hands, trying desperately to contain the monster inside. He stared up, blinking to try and bring things into focus.

  Bailynn stood up, one arm hanging almost limply at her side. The previously injured arm she held out towards Ragnar, then she lifted it into the air above her head. A red and dripping chunk of flesh was held in her palm. In spite of the distance Logan could smell the rich blood that ran down her arm and fell from her fingers.

  The crowd had fallen silent. Bailynn stood above the fallen huntress, then turned enough so that everyone gathered could see what she held. Once she’d completed her circle she again stared at the gajrin chieftain and brought the heart to her mouth so she could sink her teeth into it and tear a bite free.

  Chapter 4