by Darci Darson
“My son brought you here... That is interesting,” the old woman said and a mysterious smile crossed her wrinkled, time ravaged face. She could be sixty years old or more. “Kitty, bring some hot water. Our guest is wounded. My Philip has always been a good and kind person and so are we, Kitty.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Kitty said and turned back, sending Alyssa a look full of gloomy confusion. The girl darted towards the door, her modest and long, brown dress ruffling with her every step as her tiny fingers smoothed the white apron. She disappeared and only the echoes of her footsteps resounded for an instant or two.
“What is your name?” the woman sent her question to Alyssa.
“Alyssa... Alyssa Devita.”
“I am Horatia Reese. Welcome to Westfad Manor.”
Alyssa smiled to herself as she knew exactly who Horatia Reese had been. The old woman was Felicia’s ancestor as well as a member of the Mesopotamian coven and she was famous in subsequent generations for leaving Westfad Manor to ruin for twenty six years in very unclear circumstances. Alyssa was in Yasmeen’s home although, the point in time was not so perfect. The girl opened her mouth to say something but she bit her tongue because she did not want to scare Horatia or to mess with the timeline. Changing the timeline had always been forbidden and the descendants of pure Varuh travelled, obeying the strict rules; not to mention that as the creatures of light they had nearly no abilities to break them. For a moment, Alyssa wondered whether her granny Cherry could freely travel but Yasmeen described her as a cowardly freak being afraid of her own shadow.
“Can you help me?” Alyssa pleaded instead.
“You can stay however long you want. I shall be very happy of your company as you seem a very interesting young woman,” Horatia said. “Kitty is so slow,” she muttered, irritated. “There are no more servants in Westfad Manor apart from her and Jenny. The times are difficult as 1816 is ‘a year without summer’ and the cool temperatures and heavy rains caused the harvest to fail but surely you must know this. I like talking too much. The commoners don’t pay us a lot for rent and I can’t afford more servants at the moment. Not to mention my deceased husband left some debts...”
Alyssa smiled and did not interrupt the flood of Horatia’s complaints as the girl had no idea what the woman was talking about.
Kitty sneaked like a ghost into the bedroom, carrying a big bowl with steaming water, her face sweating of effort as she put it on the mahogany chest of drawers.
“Clean Alyssa’s wound, Kitty,” Horatia ordered as she advanced to leave the room. “Prepare a bath for her as well. It is a shame that such a handsome young lady is so dirty.” Her voice came from behind the door like an echo.
Kitty sent Alyssa a fearful look and came closer, her right hand wetting a white cloth in the water.
“Miss?” Kitty asked in a timid voice. She looked like a person who would ask for permission to be alive.
Alyssa lowered her head to expose the wound on the back of her skull as the servant girl wiped it with the cloth, her strokes gentle and caring. Alyssa could sense her strange confusion but the servant blocked her mind so she was not able to grasp its meaning in a fuller form. Alyssa had always been able to sense other’s hazy emotions and sometimes when people allowed her to, she could sense more. Yasmeen absolutely hated this ability of her daughter’s and Radveriel’s, perhaps that was why Alyssa appreciated it with her whole heart. However, with the throbbing pain ripping apart her brain Alyssa could discern very little, wondering whether the injury had not left a permanent damage to her precious skills .
As her eyes swept over the bedroom, she caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror attached to top of the six drawer, black dresser with bracket legs. She smiled at her reflection because her face was covered in dried mud concealing her long and thin scar. The room was dark as the heavy, red rose coloured curtains did not allow a lot of light and the burgundy and rich in black curly design wallpapers imparted a claustrophobic tension as if the patterns aimed to suffocate her.
Kitty dipped the cloth in the water once again, but this time Alyssa extended her arm towards the servant and took the cloth from the surprised and immobilised girl.
“I will do it myself,” Alyssa said. “You can sit on the chair,” she added pointing to a chair covered over in soft leather with gold embroidered design.
Kitty shook her head and her eyes widened.
“Sit down, Kitty,” Alyssa repeated, making a lot of effort to sound friendly as her headache was making her try to finish as soon as possible.
Kitty moved towards the chair with a slight hesitation and sat down, putting her hands neatly on her lap.
“How do you prepare a bath in this house?” Alyssa asked as she was wiping her face.
“I shall do this, miss,” Kitty objected like a startled mouse.
“You are to tiny to carry anything, Kitty,” Alyssa said. “I will help you because I’m stronger.”
Kitty blinked like a nervous five year old, looking like she wanted to escape.
“Miss, your face... “ Kitty said with a quiet and faltering voice.
“My scar makes me look more interesting,” Alyssa said with pride. She swept her legs over the side of the bed and stood up with effort, her mouth catching the air in a rapid effort. “Let’s prepare the bath for me, then.”
Alyssa smiled to herself as terrified Kitty led her to the door and through the gloomy corridor towards the wide, white staircase. She heard Horatia’s loud and wheezy cough coming from behind the heavy wooden door of one of the bedrooms. It was as if the old lady had been coughing up a lot of thick phlegm. As Kitty explained, Horatia had been resting, not feeling well all day. Alyssa counted all the doors and there were four of them, each with a massive iron door handle. Her bare feet touched the cold of the brown and navy parquet floor that was covered with red fringed rugs.
Alyssa prepared her bath with Kitty showing growing suspicion and fear on her miserable face yet the young servant obeyed Alyssa’s order with no objections. Jenny, on the other hand, turned out to be an ancient relic barely moving, her ears deaf and her eyes almost blind.
Alyssa took a quick bath and put on clean clothes, grateful for the navy dress and strange, hand sewn underwear and tight corset. The garments had once belonged to Horatia’s daughter who had passed away two years earlier as Kitty had explained to her.
When Alyssa stood in the middle of her temporary bedroom, her clothing at last proper, fresh and a bit stiff, she put her hands on her hips and turned around. Her eyes assessed the thickness of dust stripping the furniture off beauty and shine as her skin covered with goosebumps due to the cold possessing the whole space of the bedroom. The damp influencing the quality of air demanded her immediate attention.
“I will have a lot of work to do here,” she said more to herself than to Kitty. She would be like granny Cherry who had helped others, risking her own life. Helping others would quiet her thoughts and she wanted her head to be cleared from all the disturbing images and memories.
Surprisingly, a flow of her past invaded her mind, undesired and squeezing her heart.
The heat from the stone fireplace in the living area of her house in Iioliv enveloped the four of them as they sat at the large mahogany table, eating the evening meal. The smells of baked veggies blended with those dispersed by the wood crackling in the red and yellow fire as Yasmeen, Rav and Ettrian chatted and discussed some business plans. Alyssa was slightly more than sixteen.
Rav and Ettrian had returned in the morning after a two months absence due to some business matter.
Alyssa watched her parents, intrigued by their pearly glow filling the wooden and stone space with a delicate and warm light. It created a miraculous and translucent atmosphere that shimmered and danced like streaks of mist. Yasmeen and Rav always looked like marble statues when her dad came back after a business trip yet each time it awoke her growing curiosity and amazement. With each year that passed she was also more aware of what that glowing reall
y meant.
“When will I start to glow as well?” Alyssa asked and sent her mother a mischievous smile.
Yasmeen coughed as if she choked and said, “When you are one hundred and eighty years old, right Rav?”
“You will glow for your Varuh husband,” Rav said, unconcerned and added another portion of veggies onto his plate. Whenever Ettrian visited, there was a vegetarian meal but Alyssa did not mind. She would eat anything that looked vaguely food-like.
“Can I glow for an elf?” Alyssa questioned. She knew that she would disturb her parent’s peace.
“No,” Yasmeen said sharply and fell silent as if she had said too much.
“There are no Varuh in Iioliv,” Ettrian said with sarcasm.
“An elf won’t give Alyssa the stability and certainty that she needs for her Varuh to thrive,” Rav said and there was a momentary thick silence in the room.
“An elf can love eternally and honestly,” Ettrian said with a passion unusual for him.
“Do you mean Saleh’s son, Aymar?” Yasmeen asked. “They are only friends and both too young and Alyssa needs to focus on her education. Speaking of which, did you do your maths, Alyssa?”
“Yes,” Alyssa said and lowered her head but Yasmeen sensed the lie at once.
“If you finished your meal,” Yasmeen said with a mischievous grin, “go to your room and do your maths and then write ten paragraphs in English.”
Alyssa rushed to her room but still heard Yasmeen correcting Ettrian’s English. She did her homework and went to bed early to get a proper rest as Ettrian was taking Aymar and her for archery lessons next morning.
They practised on higher ground; at this time of a year it was covered by patches of glittering snow. The air was chilly, crisp and carried the scent of dark soil along with the scent of pine trees. The silence was majestic and primeval.
Alyssa tried her best but her every attempt met the eruption of Aymar’s laugh.
“I can’t be perfect in everything,” she hissed to the elf boy. He was a year older than her and had brown hair plaited in a similar way like Ettrian’s white one and curious hazel eyes. His appearance emanated this dangerous elf charm despite the fact that the boy was still very young.
Alyssa buttoned her brown jacket that reached down to her thighs and pulled the hood to cover her head. Her toes began to get numb even though she wore very expensive knee-high boots that were a gift from Ettrian.
“Alyssa, practice your archery,” Ettrian reprimanded her.
Alyssa made another attempt and the arrow did not hit the target placed on the high white rock in the distance once again. She let out a growl of fury and threw her bow to the stony and mossy ground.
Aymar approached her and closed in his arms as his lips touched hers. It was soft, light and not quite right to her. She would have preferred more privacy for her first ever kiss although she still felt a moist tingling on her lower lip.
“Aymar!” Ettrian growled. “Stay away from her.”
Aymar sent him a dark glance of anger, hissing, “Do you want to keep her for yourself? You guard her like she was your possession.”
“Go back to the Alyssum Forest,” Ettrian said in a cold voice yet his eyes burnt.
As Aymar gathered his belongings and left, Alyssa stepped forward towards Ettrian.
“I’m not a child and you are not my father,” she said to him with a surprising boldness. “Do you think that I don’t know why you take Aymar and me to practise archery each time my dad comes back from a business trip?”
“You are a child, Alyssa, and behave like one,” he said in a cold voice. “ Don’t stick your nose in the adults’ business. Read your books and practise archery. And respect your parents.”
Ettrian emitted an authoritative aura and this mysterious coldness that always awoke her curiosity. She growled like an angry bear and returned to her archery. Both Aymar and she respected Ettrian as they had learnt to respect older people from other members of the elven community though not always managed to hide their frustration. She called the elves from previous generations older but in fact, all of them looked to her a bit like older siblings. The same went for her own parents as the three of them looked almost the same age. Yasmeen’s body was preserved in a perfect condition, like she was embalmed, like she was merely nineteen. Rav looked twenty or twenty two.
“Maybe we will practice twisting necks,” she muttered. “Theoretically, I’m much better in this skill.”
“You need to be able to protect yourself, Alyssa,” Ettrian said and hid his wide grin as she made her worst shot ever. “Iioliv is very dangerous,” he added and suppressed his laugh.
“I hate archery!” she complained, suffocating her urge to say ‘I hate you too’ and made another attempt as Ettrian sent her a warning glance. He walked away to admire the beautiful views of the landscape bathing in the sharp shine of the sun. Whilst he meandered among the rock quite a distance from her, she saw Aymar hiding behind a tree who waved his hand in an encouraging gesture. She shook her head and waved back to the elf boy, informing him that she would not join him. She was afraid of Yasmeen’s irritating comments about safety and staying with Ettrian all the time though the thought of escaping with Aymar was very tempting for her. She wanted more kissing but was not sure whether she wanted more of Aymar.
Returning to her reality in Westfad Manor she inhaled the disgusting damp and decided to start from ensuring the snow freshness of the air in the estate. She wanted to breathe in this sharp crispiness of air from her memories but also desired to escape into her chores in Westfad Manor. Escape from her complicated past and the guilt that forced its way through the blockade in her subconscious ...
Chapter 5
Horatia’s cough disturbed the silence occupying the dark corridors of Westfad Manor as Alyssa wandered in the house, studying every detail of her new accommodation with interest. This was her second day here. Later on the first day, she had eaten her meal and gotten back to bed as her headache had attempted to kill her. On the following morning, Kitty had brought her breakfast and Alyssa had wolfed down all the food in an instant.
She touched the pictures hanging on the rosy walls and felt the smoothness of the heavy ornate frames of two mirrors that greeted her with the curious reflection of her face in the hallway upstairs. A thin layer of dust covered the furniture and candelabras whilst the smell of burning candles comforted her senses. The interior seemed to her heavy and overwhelming, touched by the past and damp as well. She tried to recognise Horatia’s face on the paintings, but all the figures staring back at her from the pictures, looked the same for her, scary and serious as though they had not had the right to have fun.
Alyssa slid down the wide staircase and stopped at its end, rooted to the spot. Her eyes locked onto Philip striding from the front door towards the kitchen, his figure floodlit by a stream of the sun’s rays getting inside through the fanlight of serpentine curves above the front door. The hallway was as though preserved in an unearthly state by the illuminating light and patches of shade thrown on the floor. Tiny particles of dust danced in the air. Alyssa had a temporary sensation of being detached, peaceful and eternal. This was like drifting in infinity and experiencing the miracles created by the pure nature of light.
She wrapped her brown shawl around her arms as she felt cold. The house was freezing cold as she had discovered last night when she had covered herself with all the blankets available in her bedroom. The air carried the smell of damp and the spiciness of lilies, triggering a few flashes of her memories to course through her head. She saw the cellars in Felicia’s castle with their stone walls covered by green and grey fungus and droplets of water flowing down, then hitting against the floor. Felicia had always laughed that the cellars felt like they were medieval tombs.
Alyssa’s mouth let out a cloud of vapour as if the temperature had dropped by a few more degrees within just a moment.
Philip stopped and lifted his warm eyes towards Alyssa, an honest smile
curving his lips. He smoothed his white, linen shirt with his right hand. There was something ethereal in this union of their glances, the delicate beauty gripping the heart with a pain, the overwhelming silence that wafted away the house noises. A subtle peculiarity brushing the subconscious.
“Thank you for your help,” Alyssa murmured, somehow paralysed by his presence.
“Tell my mother to organise a ball for you. We have to entertain you,” he said with his kind voice.
“Ok, I will,” Alyssa said with hesitation. “My name is Alyssa.”
“I know,” Philip said and resumed walking. He reached the door opening to the kitchen.
Alyssa did not move as an odd detail of his appearance caught her attention. His right temple was caked with dried blood.
“Philip,” she said loudly enough to make him turn back in order to face her. “Philip, you are wounded.”
“The horse does not like me,” he answered.”I fall off the horse all the time,” he added and chuckled as he disappeared into the kitchen.
Alyssa followed him but when she entered the kitchen, she noticed only Jenny and Kitty. They were preparing food for the next meal. The small brick-built oven dispersed the smells of baked food and metal grates and hobs attacked the ears with the noises of banging and scraping. As Alyssa looked around, she was impressed with the heavy and solid proportions of the interior; there was enough space for two cooks to work, although at the moment there was only Kitty floating with her springy energy among the large cooks table, the two crockery dressers and the cream cabinetry. The young servant’s feet seemed to fly above the floor of limestone with slate insets.
“Do you need me, miss?” Kitty asked with her timid and squeaky voice.
“No, I don’t need you. You need me, Kitty,” Alyssa said firmly and took off her shawl. She was prepared to deal with the whole housework and cooking and with the two servants being obedient to her commands. Philip did not occupy her thoughts anymore as she was eager to ease Kitty’s struggle and was not going to chase him into the back garden. “Horatia is very unwell,” she added more to herself.
