Mara woke. The floor was hard against her face, harder than her thin pallet. The events that had left her laid there flooded back in a merciless torrent. One of her wrists was free, marked with blood where the rope had chafed her. The other was twisted awkwardly behind her and above, binding her to the wooden frame.
Her head pounded as she opened her eyes. The sun had set and the room was shadowed and quiet. She could hear light breathing from the shattered wooden rack in front of her, where the Masters had lain, but the debris blocked her sight of whatever lay under it.
Rising to her knees hurt in ways she didn't want to think about. It wasn't the first she'd suffered at the hands of masters, but it was the first since she'd come to womanhood. She'd been hurt before though, and if the pain was unfamiliar it was still only pain. Her fingers were still deft and the knot was no more complex than it needed to be to restrain a girl no more than a month past fourteen years.
The light was strange, she realised. At first she had thought that the soft silvery light was cast by a candle or lantern behind her but it was too steady and no matter where she turned the light seemed to be from behind her. Or...
No, not behind her.
The light came _from_ her.
As the thought came to her, the light from her forehead brightened cheerfully and a veil of silver motes sheathed her half-naked body. The light was warm she realised numbly.
The pile of broken glass and wood heaved suddenly. Smaller fragments shifted but the main beams did not. From beneath, a strange golden light could be seen. Another heave, with no more result and now she heard a muffled curse in a young voice.
"Are you alright?" she asked and then broke off, in horror at her temerity. Slaves were _not_ supposed to address the Masters until acknowledged. Then she shook her head. ~I've been here so very, very long. Too long.~
The younger of the two Masters replied, seemingly unconcerned at the impropriety. "I can't get out from under Jarek," he said in a pained voice. "The beams from the wine rack are too heavy. And there's something strange about the light here."
Mara examined the pile. "One of the corner beams is across his back. I can't move something that heavy."
He coughed. "I just need an inch. Can't you pry it up, even for a moment?"
Mara though of his predicament, trapped against Master Jarek... "I'll try."
"Thank you."
Mara smiled thinly. It might not be the _first_ occasion a Tepet had used those words to a slave. It was almost certainly the first time this century though. She dug through the heap until she found a reasonably stout timber to use as a lever. Bracing it in the thin crack between the corner beam and the post beneath it, she took a deep breath. "On the count of three."
"Right."
The girl dug her lever in and pulled at it. For a moment the beam resisted. She closed her eyes and _heaved_. The warmth of that silvery light was around her and it felt as if it was soaking into her arms, filling them with energy. She felt the beam shift and then rise. A finger's width then another. With a sharp CRACK, her lever snapped like a twig and the beam settled further.
Energy drained out of her and she slumped against the pile. "I'm sorry..."
"Don't be," said the young Master's voice, clearer now. "You moved it enough. I can get out now." He matched action to word and she watched him wriggle out from the timbers. The gold light was from him, she realised, just as the silvery light surrounded her.
He paused as he saw her. "Silver," he whispered. "And gold." He examined the light around him for a long moment. "I don't understand."
Mara retreated a step as he turned back to her. "You have a mark on your forehead," he said quietly. There was dread in his voice and Mara could not fathom why. "It looks like a crescent moon."
"Yorus looks like the Unconquered Sun," she said and did not know why. He flinched. "Why does that frighten you?"
"We are... we are damned..." he whispered. "I thought. I hoped that this was Exaltation. It felt they way I was told it would. But this," he touched his forehead. "It is the brand of Anathema."
Mara caught her breath. Even slaves knew of the Anathema. Long ago they had ruled Creation, until the Elemental Dragons tired of their corruption and sent the Dragon-Blooded to cast them down, forging the Realm to rule over the world. The kingdoms of the Threshold paid tribute to the Realm, which in return sent out its legions to defend against the terrors on the boundaries of the Wyld. The best of the Realm's servants were the Wyld Hunt, who sought out and slew Anathema before they could turn their evil to destroy the world they had once ruled.
Then common sense reasserted itself. Whatever the Anathema were, they could hardly be worse than Tepet Jarek would be if he awoke and found them here. And whatever else they might be, Anathema were _powerful_. If Mara had learnt anything in her short life it was that it was better to have power than to lack it.
"Can we hide them?" she asked.
"I don't know. It doesn't matter. The Immaculates will find us," the boy whispered. "They always do. We can't..."
She silenced him with a fierce kiss. "Life is sweet," she whispered, not knowing why it seemed so right to touch him thus. "And I am not done with mine."
Gently he touched her shoulders, a surprised look on his face. "We shouldn't..."
"Because I'm a slave and you're a master? Do you think that matters now?"
"No..." He sighed. "I don't even know your name."
"I'll tell you later," she said before silencing him again.
* * *
Maylo woke, the sky still dark outside the small window. There were voices outside, loud and questioning. Mara lay against him. She had told him her name and he had told him hers before they slept.
"What brings you to my manse. Brother Deled?" came his father's voice.
The other voice was cold and arrogant. "I am on the Hunt." There was a pause. "Are you a fool, Tepet!? The auguries are clear. Anathema are within your very Manse! Stand aside in the name of th Wyld Hunt!"
Her head pounded as she opened her eyes. The sun had set and the room was shadowed and quiet. She could hear light breathing from the shattered wooden rack in front of her, where the Masters had lain, but the debris blocked her sight of whatever lay under it.
Rising to her knees hurt in ways she didn't want to think about. It wasn't the first she'd suffered at the hands of masters, but it was the first since she'd come to womanhood. She'd been hurt before though, and if the pain was unfamiliar it was still only pain. Her fingers were still deft and the knot was no more complex than it needed to be to restrain a girl no more than a month past fourteen years.
The light was strange, she realised. At first she had thought that the soft silvery light was cast by a candle or lantern behind her but it was too steady and no matter where she turned the light seemed to be from behind her. Or...
No, not behind her.
The light came _from_ her.
As the thought came to her, the light from her forehead brightened cheerfully and a veil of silver motes sheathed her half-naked body. The light was warm she realised numbly.
The pile of broken glass and wood heaved suddenly. Smaller fragments shifted but the main beams did not. From beneath, a strange golden light could be seen. Another heave, with no more result and now she heard a muffled curse in a young voice.
"Are you alright?" she asked and then broke off, in horror at her temerity. Slaves were _not_ supposed to address the Masters until acknowledged. Then she shook her head. ~I've been here so very, very long. Too long.~
The younger of the two Masters replied, seemingly unconcerned at the impropriety. "I can't get out from under Jarek," he said in a pained voice. "The beams from the wine rack are too heavy. And there's something strange about the light here."
Mara examined the pile. "One of the corner beams is across his back. I can't move something that heavy."
He coughed. "I just need an inch. Can't you pry it up, even for a moment?"
Mara though of his predicament, trapped against Master Jarek... "I'll try."
"Thank you."
Mara smiled thinly. It might not be the _first_ occasion a Tepet had used those words to a slave. It was almost certainly the first time this century though. She dug through the heap until she found a reasonably stout timber to use as a lever. Bracing it in the thin crack between the corner beam and the post beneath it, she took a deep breath. "On the count of three."
"Right."
The girl dug her lever in and pulled at it. For a moment the beam resisted. She closed her eyes and _heaved_. The warmth of that silvery light was around her and it felt as if it was soaking into her arms, filling them with energy. She felt the beam shift and then rise. A finger's width then another. With a sharp CRACK, her lever snapped like a twig and the beam settled further.
Energy drained out of her and she slumped against the pile. "I'm sorry..."
"Don't be," said the young Master's voice, clearer now. "You moved it enough. I can get out now." He matched action to word and she watched him wriggle out from the timbers. The gold light was from him, she realised, just as the silvery light surrounded her.
He paused as he saw her. "Silver," he whispered. "And gold." He examined the light around him for a long moment. "I don't understand."
Mara retreated a step as he turned back to her. "You have a mark on your forehead," he said quietly. There was dread in his voice and Mara could not fathom why. "It looks like a crescent moon."
"Yorus looks like the Unconquered Sun," she said and did not know why. He flinched. "Why does that frighten you?"
"We are... we are damned..." he whispered. "I thought. I hoped that this was Exaltation. It felt they way I was told it would. But this," he touched his forehead. "It is the brand of Anathema."
Mara caught her breath. Even slaves knew of the Anathema. Long ago they had ruled Creation, until the Elemental Dragons tired of their corruption and sent the Dragon-Blooded to cast them down, forging the Realm to rule over the world. The kingdoms of the Threshold paid tribute to the Realm, which in return sent out its legions to defend against the terrors on the boundaries of the Wyld. The best of the Realm's servants were the Wyld Hunt, who sought out and slew Anathema before they could turn their evil to destroy the world they had once ruled.
Then common sense reasserted itself. Whatever the Anathema were, they could hardly be worse than Tepet Jarek would be if he awoke and found them here. And whatever else they might be, Anathema were _powerful_. If Mara had learnt anything in her short life it was that it was better to have power than to lack it.
"Can we hide them?" she asked.
"I don't know. It doesn't matter. The Immaculates will find us," the boy whispered. "They always do. We can't..."
She silenced him with a fierce kiss. "Life is sweet," she whispered, not knowing why it seemed so right to touch him thus. "And I am not done with mine."
Gently he touched her shoulders, a surprised look on his face. "We shouldn't..."
"Because I'm a slave and you're a master? Do you think that matters now?"
"No..." He sighed. "I don't even know your name."
"I'll tell you later," she said before silencing him again.
* * *
Maylo woke, the sky still dark outside the small window. There were voices outside, loud and questioning. Mara lay against him. She had told him her name and he had told him hers before they slept.
"What brings you to my manse. Brother Deled?" came his father's voice.
The other voice was cold and arrogant. "I am on the Hunt." There was a pause. "Are you a fool, Tepet!? The auguries are clear. Anathema are within your very Manse! Stand aside in the name of th Wyld Hunt!"