Ice Shards - By Yasmine Galenorn Page 0,26
of exposure as well as the pain of the lash, I tried to sink to the floor, but the manacles held me fast in their iron grasp.
And on the fifth strike, the exquisite pain became all there was in the world, and I started to scream. And I went right on screaming until the lashes had counted to thirty.
“We could not find the truth,” the Priestess-Mother said, staring down at my prone form on the floor. “It is cloaked so deeply in your psyche that we have no hope of ever knowing. We cannot allow you to stay in the temple, but neither can we punish you for his death if we don’t know for certain you’re guilty.”
I sobbed, all my tears long shed but the pain unending. Ishonar would stay in my system for days, tearing at me every time I moved. “Please, don’t send me away. I loved Vikkommin. Just send me to him now if you’re going to get rid of me. Please, please just kill me.”
The Priestess-Mother ignored me. “You are excommunicated from the Temple of Undutar, turned away as pariah. You are stripped of your title, no more the Ar’jant d’tel. You are stripped of the mightiest of your powers.”
And a new hell rushed through me, a great hand tearing power and spells out of me like it might rip weeds from a garden. The pain sent me into a convulsion, and next I knew, I was on the steps of the temple, and the Priestess-Mother stood there with shears and my hair in her hand.
“Pirkitta, as our last punishment, we take away your power to bear children and the symbol of your power as a woman. You shall never carry a child to term until you can find out what happened to Vikkommin and put to right what went wrong. You may grow your hair back, but it will never be the braid you were born with.” Holding out the shears, she clipped off my hair at the nape of my neck.
I screamed, but she tossed the strands onto a fire and as the smell of burning hair filtered through my nostrils, the heavy doors swung shut and I lay sobbing for what seemed like hours.
Something inside took hold—an anger, a fury, a desire for revenge and to prove them wrong. I forced myself to my feet, and, still in agony from the ishonar and having my powers stripped, I trudged to the trail leading down to the portals. A voice calling my name on the wind led me forward, and I followed it until I could remember no more.
SIX
CAMILLE BURST INTO TEARS, AND KITÄÄ’S LIP was trembling, but I realized it wasn’t out of pity. No, they were tears of sisterhood. After six hundred years of hiding my scars, of hiding my shame, it actually felt good to open up, to show someone else the reminders I carried on my back.
“You are going to face him? The shadow of your lost love?” Kitää asked.
I nodded. “I have to. There’s no other way to break the curse than to find out what really happened. And I have to go alone. I asked my friends to come with me for support, but in the end I know I have to face him alone.”
“When will you go? Shadows exist in the light more than in the dark, you know.”
I thought about it. Waiting a day, two days, would do nothing for me. I’d no more be ready then than I was now. “I’ll go out at daybreak tomorrow onto the Skirts of Hel and hunt him down. And then . . . I’ll do whatever it takes to find out the truth and to help him rest. Vikkommin must know what happened. He’s my only hope now, for the life that I want.”
“Is there anything you need tonight? The Pack has trained shamans and we would be glad to offer whatever help we can.” She rested a hand on my arm. “Lady Iris, you are a brave woman, but don’t look a gift horse—”
“In the mouth. I know. If you could provide me with a private place where I may pray, and if you have anything to strengthen me against the cold and ice tomorrow, I would not turn away the offer.”
Facing the shadow of Vikkommin would be problematic and I had no clue as to what might happen. But tonight I knew I’d need to spend time in prayer. Even though I had been banished