Camara: Lady of the Sword - Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The trip back to camp was difficult, but only due to natural causes - darkness, difficult terrain, skittish horses, and the full panoply of possible problems. Verran gave Camara her rings, her chakram, her amulet, and her sword. They were in the same room Deena had been held captive in, and that's how they had found her. He had followed the spell echoes from M'Lady's magical jewellery.

Their return was met with enthusiasm, but a deep current of unease seemed to be running through everyone they spoke with.

Sir William greeted her at her tent.

"Please, M'Lady. Let us speak inside." His face was twisted into something resembling horror and remorse, all at once. His voice was also thick. They entered. William dropped to his knees.

"M'Lady. First, I must ask your forgiveness. I lost my temper, and it has cost you dearly. You see, I caught the spy. He ..."

The warrior stopped speaking for a moment. His darkly handsome features were drawn, as if in great pain. Tears dripped down through his moustache and beard.

"Continue, William. Tell me what has happened. Nothing you say can be worse than what has already happened this night."

"I wish that were true, M'Lady. I caught the spy. I caught him in the act, trying to communicate with that Torres bastard, using one of those vision crystals. He turned on me, with his sword drawn! He sneered, and called me a fool, and you a stupid harlot! I killed him in anger! I knew better! I could have disarmed him! But his words, they angered me so, and - and he spoke of Briana. Reason left me for a time, then he was dead."

With a few sobs, he knelt there, knowing that his life could be forfeit for what he had done, if Camara lost her temper as he had. Yet, he stayed still, head bowed, neck bared.

"Who, William? Who was it!? Tell me, or I'll tear it out of you!"

"It was ... Bracchus, M'Lady. He is - he was - the spy."

For a moment, everything was silent. Then an agonized scream ripped through the camp, startling all, awakening the few who were asleep. Quite a number knew of the news that awaited Camara, and none would have willingly traded places with William. None knew if it was his death cry that still echoed through the hills.

The following day was difficult, and busy. Despite having no sleep for two nights, Camara was as coldly efficient as ever. Their prisoner, Captain Torres - A.K.A. Sir Lougan - was given a choice. Freely tell them everything he knew, or be drugged and tortured to tell them everything he knew. With the eager smiles of Lord Verran, Deena, and Taggart all hanging over him, along with the murderous scowl of Camara herself and the wickedly hateful stare of Arden, he chose to speak willingly.

A powerful wizard in Saldar City was in charge. Some gold, some potions, and certain powerful artifacts had been given to them by the spellcaster, along with promises of more, and promises of a barony for himself after the overthrow. He, a merchant, would become nobility, along with his sons, and their sons, and so forth. The dream of his lifetime. His money had been spent freely.

Count DeMonay was also going along with the wizard, as he had been promised the seat of power in Gedren after it was conquered. Neither he nor the Count knew the wizard's name or face, as all business had been conducted via intermediaries.

As far as he knew, the medallion had been stolen by someone in Saldar City, then sent to Count DeMonay. When news of Camara's arrival in Gedren became known, the medallion had been sent back. There were rumours that the wizard needed its powers to overthrow King Merovance, through some sort of ritual. He had heard hints that whomever it was would be using the artifact to summon a being of great strength and power, one that no mortal could withstand.

Yes, he admitted. Bracchus had been the spy, the one who had given out their location, their movements, and their plans. He was the one who had set them up for ambush. Lady Camara almost spitted the man upon the instant. She restrained herself with difficulty. Torres continued, stating that the wizard's agents had told him of the traitor, and that he knew nothing about what inducements had been given or promised. Camara's anger, and pain, grew deeper.

The man knew nothing else of real importance. Humboldt quietly nodded, indicating that everything told had been truth. Camara, Lord Verran, Humboldt, and Deena all agreed that speed was important if they were to prevent the overthrow. Deena's only concern was that they didn't know the name of the wizard.

Camara replied. "There's only one wizard in Saldar City who is powerful enough, and ambitious enough, to pull off such a stunt. Patteron, the court magician. Yet, if he did try to take over, the military would cut him down in minutes - monster or no monster. There has to be someone else involved, someone who would benefit greatly, someone who could be the figurehead. Any ideas?"

"I think that covers every member of the king's family, except his late wife," Humboldt replied. "His brothers, his uncles, even his sister and cousins are suspect. Any of them could be the guilty party, or even several of them. No, we don't have enough information to intelligently guess at who the co-conspirators are. We'll have to find out when we get there, and that should be as soon as possible."

Verran insisted that preparing for the return would take at least four days. Too much damage, too many lost animals, and too few supplies combined in a conspiracy of their own, forcing the unwanted delay. That gave all of them some time for rest and recuperation as well.

M'Lady slept for most of twenty four hours. Verran, meanwhile, made some discreet inquiries, and found that Count DeMonay was being very low key in looking for them and for Lougan. The king's troops, in making their presence known throughout the city, precluded any more. Camara decided that being among people, enjoying the bright, sunny weather, and doing something pleasant, like shopping, would help ease her mind. She had not forgotten about Bracchus, nor would she. That pain was being held in abeyance until after the mission had been completed, as was her grief for Briana. She decided that immediate release would not be ... appropriate ... to the situation. Yet, her bed was empty - a cold reminder of betrayal by one she'd grown to trust, respect, and admire.

The Bard:

Ah, fresh ale. Thank you.

Lords, Ladies, Gentlepersons. This next passage is, well, difficult for those with soft or gentle hearts. No blood is spilled, yet hearts are rent asunder. If any wish to leave for a time, please do so now. None here will think any less of you, that I can promise, for when it has been told, some who stay will wish they had left.

None of you wishes to spare themselves? Very well. I shall continue.

M'Lady was in a marketplace in Gedren, accompanied by Lord Verran. The morning was bright with sun. Colourful and cheery banners hung everywhere, and the babble of the crowd was filled with laughter. Musicians and songsters fought for attention with their tunes and clear voices. Some children ran by, shrieking with joy, chased by a man wielding a broom. The two warriors avoided a small crowd watching a juggler perform. The smells from dozens of different food vendors vied with that of the throng of ill-washed bodies, of the many beasts, of the perfumes and scents of the pleasure tents, and the faint clean smell of the nearby forest and the sea beyond. The mood was one of gaiety and playfulness. Even the normal thieves and cutpurses were mostly absent, perhaps daunted by the presence of so many of the king's guard mingling in with the crowd.

They started early, having no specific destination, but were looking to replace some of the equipment they had lost or damaged during their journey. Those purchases were necessary if they wished to make the return trip without incident.

Camara was snacking on a taba pie, one of her favourite treats, when a strangely familiar face came into view. It was a woman's face, one which looked like it was approaching thirty five summers, or possibly more, one that was tugging on a deep, almost forgotten memory. For some reason M'Lady felt compelled to remember that face, that person. The name was buried deep and was proving difficult to dislodge from the recesses of her mind. A slight wisp of wind, or possibly the toss of her head, revealed a slave collar on the woman's neck, and Camara was transported back, an unwilling passenger to memories she had thought buried forever.

---

... There were five girls in that cage, recent captives, slaves to be trained and sold. All had been collared, and all wore wrist and ankle fetters of iron. None had ever felt the lash of the whip or the embrace of cold metal before. None had ever before borne the brunt of such humiliation and loss. Torn from their families, or seeing their families lying dead and broken around them, all were in the depths of despair and depression. Camara sat, mind numb with pain and terror, watching a girl sitting on the other side of the cage. The other girl was staring almost hopelessly at the iron door which sealed off their room, and their cage, from the rest of the dungeon - and freedom. Her name was Ariel.

... It was dark when she woke, yet filled with a red haze, pain filling her being from the heavy whipping she had just endured. That face was there, trying to wipe away both their tears, lending her the strength to endure, washing the welts free of blood and dirt. A sip of water given from a wooden bowl was sweetest nectar to those cracked and broken lips.

... The screams from the others were now faint when the girl was pushed back into their cage, the marks on her back, bottom, and legs fresh, some still bleeding. The pain from those were as nothing compared to that of the fresh brand, still smoking, on the girl's inner thigh. Camara cradled the woman - hardly more than a child - in her arms, watching that same face as her cries of agony changed to whimpers of pain, and then to simple sobs. Their tears mingled, with M'Lady ignoring the pain from her own branding, still hurting after two days.

... The five were tied separately, upright and spread eagled between posts, yet were still able to watch each other's faces. All were naked, and the red weals of fresh marks were rising on each, seen on backs, bottoms, thighs, stomachs, breasts, and elsewhere. Two whip masters were doing their duty. No reason was given for the punishment, and none was necessary. The slaves were there for the amusement of others that day. Camara held fast to the vision of Ariel's face, defiant through all her tears, heedless of the screams of pain she made, enduring all because she refused to ever give up her slim hopes.

... Camara watched that face staring daggers out the barred door, staring at the back of the retreating slaver. The auction date had been set, and each was to be sold separately. Many quiet words had been exchanged among the five, many tears, many pains. They were all of a similar age, and had grown closer than sisters during the months of their torture and training. Always Ariel had proven strongest, rising above the punishments and humiliations, lending her strength to the others. Without that strength, M'Lady might not have survived until then. Her young and delicate spirit could have shattered or broken under whip and cane. Ariel freely shared her strength and her hope, hope that one day freedom would return.

... It was her last view of that face, head held high, defiantly staring at the crowd as Ariel was led to the auction block, that gave Camara the inspiration and courage to survive her years of pain with hope and spirit intact.

---

M'Lady's attention was now back at the market, staring at Ariel. The memory of the pact the five made in their last hours together was now as fresh as though she had said it that morning. Each swore that if somehow one was freed, she would always look for the others to free them from their bonds. They had sworn this pact on the blood and tears all had shared in their time together. Camara approached the woman.

"Ariel? Is that truly you? Ariel?"

The woman turned, looking at Camara, eyes blank and empty at first, but then they slowly filled with recognition. She looked far older than the twenty eight summers M'Lady knew her to be.

"You are ... Camara. You were with me. Years ago. I remember your face."

They were interrupted by an armed man, gently turning Ariel to him.

"Come, Minx, it is time to return."

"A moment please, master. An old, old friend has just appeared before me. May I speak with her?"

The man looked at Camara, eyeing her distrustfully. "Very well. A few moments. Then we must go." He stepped away a few paces to allow them some privacy.

The two women stared at each other for a short while. Camara felt uncertain of herself, not knowing what to say. Finally Ariel spoke.

"You look ... well. You are ... free?"

"Yes, Ariel. I am free. I have been for many years. Yet you, you are still a slave? I thought you would have risen above this long ago."

"No, I am a slave. I have a master now who is gentle, so I am happy. Are you happy Camara?" Her voice had little life, and held none of the spark and intensity M'Lady remembered from years ago.

It was with difficulty that Camara spoke. There was a piece of her inner self tied to the auburn-haired woman, something that no span of years could ever undo. "I think I am. Many times I feel joy, but sometimes the sorrow overwhelms me. Yet I would not give it up. Do you remember our pact?"

"Pact? Yes, I remember. It was something I swore in my ignorance, but I do remember."

"So do I. Now that I've found you, I'm going to do everything I can to set you free. Tell me, who is your master?"

"Free? Free from what? For what? I have a kind master, he feeds me, clothes me, and beats me only when I deserve it. My only worry is to please him. I am free from the pains. I do not wish another master."

"Ariel, look at me. I don't mean for you to change masters. I'm talking about your freedom! No master but yourself, free to do what you will, go where your heart desires! If you worry about another master, then I'll buy you myself and then remove your chains!"

"I would be your slave then. Would you treat me well?"

M'Lady stared at this person in front of her, a sudden, constricting pain in her chest making speech, and breathing, difficult.

"What have they done to you? Ariel, where is that spirit I remember, the passion you once had? Where have you gone?"

"I ..."

The woman slowly lowered her face, with eyes growing dim and lifeless. Her face filled with sorrow. She continued.

"Ariel is dead. I am the slave called Minx. Ariel died, under the whip. Too many tears ... so much pain ... the beatings ... the the brandings ... the pain ... the clamps and tortures ... the pain ... all the pain ... too much pain ..."

Lady Camara cupped her hands around the woman's face and lifted those eyes to her own. There was nothing left in them, all traces of the woman who was once in there had disappeared. Tears traced repeated patterns down her cheeks.

"Please, Camara, leave me be. I have a kindly master now. He doesn't hurt me. I'm happy to be his slave rather than another's. Don't force me back into pain again. I have no strength for it. Please."

M'Lady died a little that day, a piece of her spirit forever shattered. The man came and gently lead his slave Minx away, that slave who wore the body of Ariel, who was once Camara's friend.

Walking slowly, heedless of the press around her, she mindlessly placed one foot in front of the other. The sky was leaden, all colour leached from the banners and booths. Only a dull and distant roaring reached her ears. Slowly, without heed, one tear, then another, rolled down her face. Caught within herself, not yet able to encompass the loss she had just endured, she was led by another.

Hours later she emerged from her private despair. She was seated at a table in a tavern somewhere. Lord Verran was beside her, and none others sat near. A half-dozen empty tankards stood before her, with one partly emptied in her hand, yet she was sober. Two daggers stabbed into the table dissuaded any from approaching or sitting close.

Turning to Verran, she spoke quietly. "Ariel is broken. They have destroyed her. Death would have been much kinder than what was done, for she still remembers. She knows ... and ... remembers ..." Only then did she begin to weep in earnest, burying her head in his shoulder.

The Bard:

< He lowers his head for a moment, the glint of tears in his eyes. >

Gentlepersons. Will any of you drink with me in memory of Ariel, she who was once a spirited young lass, and became worse than dead? To Ariel, may none of you or yours ever suffer her fate.

< He sips his wine, then returns his goblet to the table. Many in the room nod or gesture in sympathy and drink as well. The servants, some of whom are slaves, stop and bow their heads for a few seconds. Two of the older lords, both battle scarred veterans, seem quite unmoved by the Bard's story. >

Please, let me be for a few moments. I need some time to ... recover myself. The epic is far from over, and there is yet joy to be shared.

He continues, speaking with a slightly quieter voice than before.

By the following day, Camara had regained herself, yet she was not the same person she had been. There was a deep wound that could not be seen, except in her eyes. Still, she had troops to lead, and a commission to complete. Keeping busy kept her from thinking. Yet, in the evening, there was nothing, no one. Loneliness was her only companion through the dark hours. She wept, uncontrollably at times, remembering all those she had loved and lost, the pains in her heart now threatening to overwhelm her spirit. Only the strength of the vows she had made years before kept her from succumbing to her malaise. She believed there to be only one option left to her, if insanity were to be kept at bay, if she were not to give in to the blackness. Feverishly, Camara prepared for her ordeal.

Two days later, deep in the woods, in a small, sunlit clearing, Camara was ready, and completely alone.

The forest surrounding the small meadow M'Lady knelt in was preternaturally silent. That suited her purposes well. Before her, on a small wooden makeshift altar, three candles burned - one white and two red. She was finishing up the initial rites and opening prayer to her goddess Escalia(*), and was invoking two of her aspects - the protector of innocents, and the guardian of true love. Soon the preliminaries were done.

"Lady, seldom do I pray to you. Less than I should, perhaps. Yet, I am true to you in my heart. You can see this. You can also see the pain I bear, the scars and burdens I endure. Rarely do I ask anything of you. Today, I must."

"You know of me, of course, and my history. You know of my loves, and those who have been dear to me. My family. My lovers. My friends. A blackness surrounds me, a cloud. All who I allow near are touched by it. Why am I accursed like this? Cursed to bear their hatred, their deaths, and worse? My family, my sister, Collena, Drisolm, Briana, Ariel, Lysande, and so many others. Their fates hang so heavy on my spirit."

"Am I doomed to lose everyone who I let into my heart? If I am, I ask of you, I plead with you, please ... please, release me now from my vows. Let me pass on to somewhere else. I no longer have the strength to carry on. I still ache for Briana, my heart bleeds because of her, and now I have lost the strength of Ariel. I did not realize until now how much her memory supported me. She is worse than dead, her spirit, her will, broken. How many more of those who touch me must die? Another one is too many. Already they are too many. Please, Escalia, hear my prayers. Release me!"

Camara knelt there through the rest of the afternoon, occasionally shedding tears. She was kneeling still when the sun set, and when the stars came out. When the moon set she still hadn't moved. All three candles had guttered and gone out long since.

---

A cold, grey light filtered through the cloudy mists surrounding her. With a start, she realized she was not in the meadow. There was no grass, no forest, no sky. Nothing to be seen anywhere. Only the solidity of her footing gave evidence there was anything except her and the mist. M'Lady looked around, curious, but unafraid. A dim light appeared in the distance. She moved towards it, unsure if she was walking or not, but certain that she was travelling. The light slowly brightened as she grew near, though that is not a proper description of her experience. Perhaps the light simply grew larger, or her perception of it grew sharper. Probably none of these are accurate.

Some while later, an unknowable length of time later, she became aware of a noise, perhaps a voice. It grew louder as she approached the light. Soon it resolved into a number of voices, or one voice using different tones and accents. She began to understand what the voices were saying. Some were almost crying, some almost laughing, some serious, some barely whispering. All were repeating her name, over and over again. Curiosity, rather than any other emotion, came foremost in her mind. Fear was an alien concept and did not exist wherever she was.

With no warning she was suddenly surrounded by the light. It was not bright, but was all-encompassing. A great feeling of warmth and compassion surrounded her, relieving her of all burdens and cares, leaving only her curiosity, her wonder, and her mind.

"Camara," the voices cried, endlessly repeating themselves. "Camara, Camara, Camara." With some finality, all the voices spoke out once more, in unison. "Camara," they said, then all was silent. Before her, a young boy stood, playing with a toy rocking horse. "You have asked of us," he said.

Another voice spoke; "You have invoked us." Camara turned to that voice, one from a young girl kicking around a leather ball. A third voice, that of a young man, caused her to turn again. "You have need of us." He sat in a small, grassy dell, and a young woman sat in his lap. "Why did you summon us?" came from her.

Her pain was nothing but a memory, but that memory was clear. "I am tired now, and have little hope. All those I love perish, or are turned against me. Is there anything left for me in life, other than the pain? Will I ever know peace? Will there ever be happiness for me?"

An old man in a comfortable chair answered. He was holding the hand of an old woman who sat beside him in another chair. "You ask of the future, that which may be. We can see some of it, but not all. You are there, sometimes. Sometimes you are not. Others are bending the present and warping the paths of what will be."

A young maiden, carrying a bouquet of flowers, dressed in wedding finery, carried on. "The task you perform now is important to us. Another is changing things, bringing into being that which is best left unmade. If you lose yourself, you will leave many others to be lost, or worse."

"I am so tired. I don't know if I can do what you wish of me."

A young girl, filthy and ragged, holding a smaller child in her arms, replies. "You have but mortal courage, mortal strength, and mortal will. It is enough. We know this. The road you have chosen is difficult, but not impossible. Is there an end?" M'Lady just stared at the child, unsure of whether she should answer or not.

A filthy old crone walked up behind the young girl and hugged her, embracing both children. She spoke. "All roads end somewhere. Some are more tortuous to travel than others. Yours is beset by fog, darkness, and storm. What has not yet been travelled, changes. Yet, along some of your possible paths, we see what you seek. Follow us, and you may find it."

"What is that? What do I seek?"

Two young maidens appeared, wearing expensive clothing and jewellery, sitting side by side and holding each other. Both of them replied, in unison. "A person. Someone. Your future. Your life."

"A friend," spoke the old woman. "A playmate," spoke the young boy still holding his toy. "A dreamer," said the young bride to be. "A lover," echoed from the two maids. "Hope," said the girl in rags. "Hope," said the old crone. "Hope," said the young couple, one after the other. "Hope," said the girl with the ball.

The mist closed in and the light began to withdraw. The voices started again, repeating the word "hope" over and over. They slowly faded as the light dimmed. Once again she had the sensation of movement, even though she wasn't sure how movement was possible.

---

Camara woke with a start, the cool light of an early sun just spilling into the meadow. She was stiff, sore, and cold, and her neck hurt. Somehow she was still kneeling before her small altar. Her experience seemed to be nothing more than a dream, completely unreal. Shaking her head to clear it of both the cobwebs that clouded her mind and a few last fleeting images, she looked around. All was quiet. The forest was still and silent, and a coating of dew lay over the grass. Only a few tiny trails disturbed the jewelled beauty of the meadow, the wild flowers changing the diamond sparkles to those of ruby and sapphire and all the other colours of the rainbow. One or two birds began singing off in the distance, and high overhead a hawk soared into view. M'Lady blinked, hardly believing her eyes when she glanced at the altar. There in the centre, away from where the candles had burned down to nothing, traced in wax, was the word "hope".

A trembling smile crossed her lips and once more her tears began to fall.

---

* Authors note:

Escalia - one of the elder gods, predating those of the Greeks. As befitting a deity who had been around since before the building of the pyramids, she, or it, has a complex history, and many different faces, or aspects. Among others, she was the protector of young children, the bringer of love, the granter of fertility, and the avenger of broken hearts.

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