by R D Blake
He pulled up his sleeve to look at the tattoo the old woman had drawn into his skin with only the broken nail of her finger. He had agreed that for one day, one full day, at the time of her own choosing, he would do her bidding. Connor knew not what that vow would mean, but even now the hair at the back of his neck rose into hackles. Perhaps he had promised too much even for the prize he wanted most of all and was impatient for, but once he had that, no church wall would prevent him from having the other one he craved.
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The Pure One was not within the vaulted and ornate chamber that served as his throne room. They found his chair empty. Erick looked questionably at the man who still had a firm grip on his arm. He only answered: “Have no fear and do not doubt. He is here.”
Then when they reached the first steps of the last stairway to the dais, the servant left Erick and continued upwards and then to Erick’s astonishment sat down upon the throne himself and smiled briefly down on him. “I beg for your understanding and your forgiveness for my subtle subterfuge. I name myself Shadow and not as others would choose to deem me. For who truly is pure other than God Himself? I only seek to follow His Ways and that I do poorly. Thus I am Shadow attempting in my weak efforts to reflect Him. I only wish all men to see Him through myself. Nothing more.”
Momentarily, the man closed his eyes. Upon opening them again, he asked: “Tell me; does not your own training and God Himself teach us that a sovereign is both ruler and servant? Thus so am I.” The one self-named Shadow, the Pure One, straightened in his seat and beckoned Erick to come closer. Before he did so, Erick bowed deeply going to his knees and remained there until he felt an emanation of impatience reach into him. Then he arose, eyes cast down, and stepped up before this being.
“You ask for one of my greatest gifts, young one. Do you think yourself worthy of possessing such a power?” Now Shadow’s voice was sharp, demanding and full of warning.
Erick could not keep himself on his feet before this power and fell to his knees again. “I am not worthy to even be in your presence or to have walked side by side with you, despite your pretence. No man is worthy of any gift from you. But it is not for me that I ask.” Erick swallowed hard, wetting his blistered lips. “If I would be so bold I would ask you to but use it yourself and end this curse upon No One and return with the ring here. I have no need of it. I wish for no power. You know this from my early words. I have travelled here, endured hardship — but only to serve her — and in no attempt to repay her for her own kindness to me but simply to follow her example: to give with no expectation of a return or favour. She need not know that I was even involved.”
“It is not possible.”
Erick writhed in the feeling of failure. All was for naught! Yet all he felt was anguish for No One. “No, you misunderstand me, child. The ring must always be worn by her. The curse can only be removed in that manner. And there is much else to tell you.”
Erick raised his bowed head in wonder toward the Pure One. “What are you saying, Great One? You will grant me this ring?”
The blue eyes of the Pure One took all of Erick in or so he ever felt afterwards. “All who came before sought this or other of my gifts for themselves. Mostly for greed or elevation in the eyes of other men or for lofty noble ambitions of which they were always to be in the centre, but the power of this ring is not unleashed except through unselfishness — so all those who preceded you discovered to their dismay.”
Erick imagined in those words of the Pure One the dark endings that had come to those before him. “Now, young one — ” The eyes of the Pure One seized and commanded Erick again. “You have not told me the full truth of why you seek this boon for No One. A truth you attempt even now to deny to yourself. Speak! For otherwise, this ring will remain with me!”
The last truth, the last secret, the one that Erick held so closely inside himself, the one that had twisted inside him for so many months, this he could not deny the being in front of him. For No One’s sake, only for her, Erick bared his soul in full.
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The sunlight reflected off the languid waves into his face and the soft breeze tousled his still unbound hair, making lie to the speed this unmanned boat was making across this inland sea. Magic! What other name could there be for it? And the new hope that had risen inside him seemed just as supernatural, though along side of it, he felt a deepening gloom. The ring was his as well as another item: safely stored away inside a small box within the pack the Pure One had provided him with. But that great being had also given him other counsel and the conditions upon which the ring would rule over the curse. Those instructions filled Erick with anxiousness: for the power of the ring depended both on him and upon No One. Could she ever be convinced of what she must believe?
So it was in a similar manner to that of the beginnings of his travels, Erick was filled equally with hope and despair, but at least he was on his way home: her home. This boat would drop him off farther away from that northern vale, but he would avoid the habitations of the trolls though it would add more weeks to his travels, and near the end he would have to venture again through the midst of the kingdom of his birth. Erick had decided to do nothing about his appearance. The less he looked like his former self the safer he would be, for he would not countenance the inevitable delay if he was discovered to still be alive.
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“What are we to do, Father?”
The older man, only slightly more compact that Teton, shrugged slightly. “All is being done that can be done to give succour to the king. He holds on and yet rules. But it is a strange ailment that seizes him — in some ways much akin to the illness which took Princess Lilith from him and us those many years ago.”
“I will pray that God restores him. For if…” Teton found he could not voice those final words.
The Duke understood his son’s unspoken fears. “Yes, we know what will happen if he fails. Come, I will join you in your prayers this day, for I believe that it is only by those already offered to our Lord that the king has been sustained thus far. Spring comes in yet a few more weeks, and then mayhap, the warm air will return him to health.”
The two great men left the duke’s private rooms seeking out the small chapel where for many years they and their ancestors had gone to their knees beseeching God for His Mercy.
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Yet again, Ilena shuffled through the deep snows following the hard packed path up to the lower battlements. As she reached the broad pavement, inadvertently, she looked to where she had stood just before the first snows had come blowing in from the southern mountains. Back then, she had been prepared to leap out into the air and meet death on the rocks below; but the animals and birds had all gathered behind her keening, mewling and pleading in their varied and mixed voices. Their sorrow, their grief and their distress had matched her own, and moved her to relent of her wish; but Ilena had insisted, had been adamant, that she would wait only one more year — would endure only for that much longer.
It had proved difficult to live through this past bitter winter season. For despite her will and the walls she had built about her heart, every day brought back some memory of Nobody: the fire place, the table, the lute, even the food. His presence remained in the fortress even he did not.
Now spring had almost returned though she could not yet sense it in the chill in the air. But the sun was warmer and the animals were beginning to show their familiar restlessness. Only a few days ago, a batch of new kittens had been brought out and introduced by their mother. But six months from now if Nobody had not returned, Ilena vowed anew that she would await him no longer.
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They all avoided him and that suited Erick’s wishes. He knew how they all perceived him here in this tavern. The other patrons all kept a wide swath of open space between themselves and what they considered some wild-looking man who was covered in filth and garbed in ill-fitting, foul smelling clothes. It was only with the
provision of half of a gold sovereign and the promise to leave immediately after his meal, that the inn-keeper had allowed him to remain inside. Erick would have been just as happy to have eaten outside away from this crowd, but disturbing news had reached his ears the more he had passed through his old homeland. The king was reported to be in ill-health and rumours were abounding about the fate of the realm: none of them good. Erick felt himself torn by both guilt and the call of his former life. Nevertheless, he wished to glean as much as he could from the men about him before he left their world again.
But No One took precedence over all, and sooner rather than later, Erick remounted his horse and sped off; for by his reckoning in two weeks time he would be walking the fields down to the fortress on those northern downs. And nothing, not even the fate of the king, would stop him.
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Connor had decided a celebration was in order. The king was dying and sufficient pressure had been applied in the right places and in the right manner with the right polite suggestions that soon Marta would be compelled to become his. In the next few weeks, the church council would see no other course but to release her to him. There were only a few wavering members to “convince” of the rightness of it all and to free them from the quandary that the earldom had placed the church in. Connor only rued that he had not thought of it a year ago.
He urged his mount on faster, for those ahead of him were bugling that the hounds had scented some game. Many had joined him in this hunt: both friends, long term and newly made, and others he wished to bring round, so that few would remain to oppose him and his father when they wrested the kingship to themselves. And in a strange manner, it seemed fitting to Connor that he was returning near to the place where the first steps of his ambitions had been taken. With a kick of his legs, Connor spurred his horse onward to heed the call ahead of him.
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Ilena was attended by some foxes and some of the smaller dogs as she travelled into the foothills of the southern mountains. She was seeking out the blossoms of a unique flowering shrub that she always enjoyed for their aromatic scent. They would fill the fortress with the first fresh perfumes of spring. Seldom did she travel this far away from her home but try as she might, Ilena could not prevent the weather from lifting her mood: the warm air, the return of many of her feathered friends, and the new births of pups and kits had made her eager to journey farther afield this day. Yet, few of the forest birds accompanied her as most now were nesting busy with their own lives and those of their new young.
She was on her way back to the ruins when she heard off to her right, the distant baying of dogs. That was followed shortly by the blaring of horns. Ilena’s eyes went wide, twisting her head to look wildly about her. Another blast of the bugles decided it for her. Dropping her basket, she ran — ran as fast as her bent legs would permit her. The animals about her followed and the few bevies of birds lifted upwards and flew ahead of them all. Back toward the vale. Back to her home Back to her refuge. Back to safety!
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Within himself, Teton continued the argument of why he had agreed to come. He wanted no part of Connor Eliason. By his presence, Teton felt he was adding some legitimacy to what all knew to be the extent of that man’s ambitions. But his father had counselled him otherwise, stating only that one must keep one’s enemies close. That was the nearest his father had ever admitted to the aims of the House of Westhaven. So here he was joining in the hunt, and as if fate would have it, near to where Erick had met his end.
Teton could not hold keep the bitterness from welling up inside his heart at that remembrance. But he tried to cover it up and pretend, as he hoped many others here also were, that this place and this occasion, above all else, were where he would choose to be — and with Connor.
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Chapter Twelve
After his horse had gone lame a few days ago, Erick had abandoned it to find its own way home. Just how many more delays would he have to endure? But now in less than a day, he would be back in the vale. Last night, he had reached the final crest of these northern mountains and now it was just one long walk downwards. Soon — Erick’s heart beat faster at the thought, he would see her. Again and again in his mind, he had rehearsed how he would approach her — how he would use her animal guardians to convince No One to hear him out. Still, Erick worried if she could possibly accept those few, oh, so important words that he treasured in his own heart and thus play her own part in the breaking of the curse.
Eventually, he came to the broad river where he had been found by No One almost two years ago, and the ember of anger that Erick had been nursing ever since leaving the Pure One burst anew into flame. That being had broken the barriers that had hid what he had forgotten. Connor! Connor had betrayed both him and the kingdom. Nothing else but the pressing need of No One would have diverted Erick from communicating that truth to the realm by some means. But that nefarious deed would need to wait for another day to be disclosed. No One: she was all that mattered.
After fording the river, Erick, not unlike Ilena who was only a few leagues away, heard the dogs and the horns. Tightening his hold on his pack and picking up his stave, he began to run. Something was wrong! Erick knew it as deeply as any truth that could touch his soul and he raced on as if he was the wind itself.
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She fell again to the ground, gasping, her lungs burning, her vision blackening. In a frenzy, the foxes nipped at her clothing and the frantic warnings of the few birds about her urged her on, but Ilena was already far beyond her ebbing endurance. She could not go on, but the dogs! — oh! — the dogs were almost upon her! Staggering to her feet, she stumbled on toward the next rise; but she knew all was lost. “Flee! Save yourselves!” she cried out.
At the top the incline, Ilena leaned heavily against the trunk of a giant bole, a last sentinel before a wide clearing, and though she fought back against the impulse, she looked back to see a wave of hounds bound down the opposite slope she had, but a few minutes before, descended. A lone horseman rose up from the height of the land behind her and blew his horn.
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Erick ran on, careless of how the undergrowth whipped at his face or of the hidden remnants of trees and ill-placed rocks that bruised his legs and shins. He fought back at his fear and the despair as the sounds of the dogs and bugles lessened with every passing heart beat. He was falling behind them! Suddenly, he burst out into a broader opening and found himself in the midst of a trail of horse prints. Turning to follow them, and despite the pain in his side, Erick picked up his pace. He could not fail — not now, not her!
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Teton sat atop his horse like the others, excepting Connor himself. The dogs had been called off; the dog handlers having now leashed them all to a tree. Still, occasionally, one or two of them would issue out a long baying howl; but Teton thought they were acting in a peculiar manner. Something beyond this extraordinary creature was troubling them. The dogs were milling about, each attempting to position itself within the middle of their pack, as if seeking a needed safe haven. Oddly, the forest itself had gone quiet except for the dogs and the horses. Even Teton’s own mount, which was the most stalwart of beasts, was lifting its feet, moving about skittishly as if it too sensed something was wrong and wanted to be as far away from this place as it could be. Teton wished it also.
He liked not this hunt or what they had found — such a strange being: garbed as if it was a man or a woman, but it was no such thing. Connor had dismounted and drawn his short sword and had approached the cowering creature, curled up within itself against the trunk of a tree. There was no mistaking that it shook with a palatable fear.
And he, like the rest, had gasped when Connor had stooped and uncovered the thing’s head: a creature out of a bard’s wild tale. Could such a thing truly exist? A goblin could have hardly looked more horrible. This being had let out such a sorrowful shriek when its shroud had been removed a
nd had tried with its bent limbs to cover its face until Connor had cruelly beat away its arms with the flat of his sword.
The earl’s son had laughed maliciously, inviting the others about this glade to join in. “Look what our hounds have brought to ground! Have any of you beheld such a horrid creature? Who knew that these fair woods could contain such a thing? You would think that this very land would spit out such a foul looking beast!”
Yet Teton perceived that Connor’s words had wounded this being far more than the blows of his sword. It knew what was being said of it. “What think you? Is it simply a beast? Male or female? Mayhap we should strip it and discover that truth! And before I kill it, let us stake it out and see what it can do to amuse us. What say you to that?” Connor kicked roughly at the creature. Collapsing further, it remained convulsing upon the ground, its face coming to be buried in the soft loam and needles of the forest bed. From out of its toad-like mouth, thin hoarse mews sounded out.
Most joined in with Connor and laughed unpityingly at the slight and bent creature, but a few like Teton grimaced at this scene of uncaring cruelty. Unable to look on for long, Teton cast his eyes upwards, issuing forth a silent prayer for understanding and for guidance; for he felt moved to intervene in this mockery of a true hunt. But what he saw above him made his heart clinch tight. The tree tops were filling with birds and the skies all about where blackening with flocks rising up and winging this way. Hawks, falcons and even great eagles were among those gathered already atop the trees along with unnumbered other species of winged creatures. They were silent; their black eyes riveted on the scene below them, and if Teton could see aright, there was no kindness in their features and despite their unnatural silence, it seemed they were readying themselves to act. But his attention was sharply drawn away from above when his ears perceived the faraway howl of wolf packs — and far more than just one.
