Warrior: The Moondark Saga, Books 1-3 by Don McQuinn

Author:Don McQuinn [McQuinn, Don]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Science Fiction & Fantasy, Fantasy, Coming of Age, Epic, Sword & Sorcery, Science Fiction, Post-Apocalyptic, Literature & Fiction, Action & Adventure, Men's Adventure, Dystopian
Amazon: B00KWI0Y5Q
Publisher: Raven's Call Press
Published: 2014-06-09T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

Sylah braced herself against the hospital bed. She stretched and rolled her shoulders. She pictured her aching muscles cracking like old leather straps.

A servant passed carrying a mop and a bucket full of what was essentially a strong mint tea. Some said the solution killed unseens. She wasn’t sure of that, but she welcomed the stinging aroma that masked the heavier smells of the crowded hospital. She supposed she should be thankful it was warm; at least the weather allowed for open windows and ventilation.

The woman on the bed opened her eyes. Sylah was surprised to see how bright and alert they were, because all the while she’d been treating her injuries, the woman had given no sign she was conscious, yet her disdainful gaze was not that of someone just waking. She said, “I’ll thank you for your help, Priestess, but it won’t change anything.”

“Change?” It was an unexpected comment.

The woman fumbled at the silver chain that disappeared inside her blouse. She flourished the polished silver disk at the end of it. “We’re not afraid of you,” she said.

The circular piece was thin, the chain links small and crude. There was no great value represented, but it was a more expensive piece of jewelry than Sylah expected to see on a farm woman. The sight of it stirred her memory. She seemed to remember seeing it when treating the woman’s injury. Had there been necklaces like it? She thought so, but couldn’t remember. There were so many victims, and she was so tired. Why did the woman speak of fear? Intrigued, Sylah reached for the object. The woman jerked away with a vehemence that pulled at her broken ribs, made her wince openly. “It’s not for Church to touch!” she snapped.

“I’m sorry.” Sylah’s apology was automatic, but sincere, which made the woman’s harsh laugh more offensive than it might have been.

“You’re sorry we’re strong enough to defy you. You think you can treat a few small injuries and we’ll flock back to you.”

Sylah had had enough. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I want nothing from you.”

“Except my mind, my body, and the tax money the Baron squeezes out of us to keep himself and people like you fat and comfortable.” The woman raised up on an elbow. “Well, nothing’s what you’ll get from me, and if the Baron had sense, it’s what you’d get from him. He’s still one of yours, though, so you’ll go on living well.”

The hair rose on Sylah’s neck. “I think you’d best say no more. This is dangerous ground.”

“Not for me.” She smiled challenge. “I’m a Moondancer.”

Sylah could only say, “I don’t know what that is.”

Disbelief washed away the smile. “Don’t know…?”

“There’s no such thing in Ola, nor among the Mountain or Dog People. If you call it a religion, then you know it’s forbidden. Your soul is at risk.”

The woman made a spitting sound. “Threats of your Land Under don’t frighten us. Misery’s here, now, while we live. But there’s pleasure, too, and wealth.

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