Bard swore under his breath. “I don’t have anything to believe in anymore.”
“My friend, believe you were created by Deus for a purpose. Believe he loves you, just as he loves the Defectives around us. Deus made them in his own image. For most of my life I didn’t understand that truth. But here at the end of all things, I have finally learned to see anew. The Defectives are precious to the true God.”
“That’s a radical idea, Sol. No one believes the Defectives are good for anything but slave labor. They’ve never heard anyone say what you just said.”
“What would happen if they did?”
“Huh?”
“What would happen if the Defectives thought they mattered to the Eternal One?”
Bard laughed. “Then you’d have one angry workforce on your hands! It’s despair that keeps them obedient. They believe they’re worthless. There’s no telling what would happen if they had hope.”
“That is what the Exterminati fear most. More than swords and armies and mighty men, they fear the truth.”
Footsteps approached again, pausing on the other side of the thin wall. Sol and Bard held their breath until the listener moved away.
“We’d better get some sleep,” Sol said as he stretched out. “Come over here and lie close to me. I will share my blanket with you.”
Bard balked. “Do you know what I meant when I told you the reason I’m here?”
“Yes, but I don’t mind.”
“You . . . you would sleep next to me?”
Sol threw his tattered blanket over the body of his new friend. “Si dormierint duo fovebuntur mutuo,” he quoted. “Unus quomodo calefiet?”
Bard reclined beside Sol. “What does that mean?”
“It’s from the fourth chapter of the book of Ecclesiastes. Surely it is a piece of wisdom that applies to us right now. But come, let us speak of these things no more. The dawn will be upon us soon, and with it will come much toil.”
Instead of getting weaker, Anastasia grew strong again.
Drake, of course, did his best to make her life miserable. The pale man with the bleeding lesions was a mocker whose words were spoken with a forked tongue. He treated Ana cruelly, cuffing her with a stick whenever he was displeased. The food he supplied was inadequate. Drake even chained Ana’s ankle to a large stone ball. Though it was an encumbrance, she could move around with it better than he knew, for he had underestimated her strength. When Drake was nearby, Ana pretended the stone was heavier than it actually was. He laughed at her efforts and derided her, often tripping her from behind.
Despite the cruel treatment, Ana started to regain her former vigor. More than a week had passed since Drake brought her to the island, and during that time she slept often because there was nothing else to do. She also had plenty to drink. Drake had found groundwater on the island and dug a well, making Hahnerat a valuable supply station for the pirates. The cold, clear water replenished Ana’s parched tissues.
Exploring her surroundings, Ana had discovered the oblong island was covered with a pine forest except along the rocky coast. Grapevines and lavender grew in abundance. To the north lay another island, and beyond it Ana could see the mainland shore. Several times she had waded into the sea to test whether escape was possible by swimming. Although the second island seemed tantalizingly close, once she was in the water Ana realized she couldn’t swim with the stone attached to her leg. Unlike the wrist manacles whose pins she had tapped out, the padlock on her ankle required a key. Even if she could somehow remove the ball and reach the other island, the mainland looked much farther away. Since Drake kept his boat secured with a thick chain, Ana knew she was trapped on Hahnerat. She had escaped from the oubliette and was grateful for it, but now a new kind of prison entombed her.
Ana had found a few ruined buildings on the island. The most extensive of them was a large complex that Drake described as a monastery of the Ancients. Though it was dilapidated and overgrown, it had obviously been elegant in its day, with several porticoed courtyards and gardens. Drake lived in a little room whose roof he had repaired, but Ana chose to sleep in the monastery’s central temple, a spacious hall with stone columns and arches. The architecture suggested it may have belonged to Deu, and that gave her comfort. Near the monastery stood a massive fortress on a peninsula that jutted into the sea. The fortress was square-built and imposing, though now it was just a shell.
As the sun began to set, Ana grew troubled. Nighttime on Hahnerat depressed her. She was forced to come to Drake’s firepit for food, and he always drove a stake through her chain so she couldn’t leave. Then he would mock her all evening and taunt her with clever words. Only after he had satisfied his need to dominate would he release her to sleep. Though Drake was cruel, Ana was relieved that he displayed no sexual interest in her. She knew he had lusts of a strange sort, yet for now she was glad not to suffer the particular form of abuse so often directed at women.
Ana trudged to the temple of Deu and lay down in her makeshift bed. She had piled palm branches beneath the altar in the apse, then covered them with sheepskin. The glass in the high windows had long since disappeared, and a portion of the ceiling had caved in. Through the opening the moon shone luminous white, shrouded by a halo of clouds. Eventually the night sounds lulled Ana to sleep.
The hour was late when a sudden awareness of evil yanked Ana from her troubled dreams into a living nightmare. She lifted her head and glanced around. Her pounding heartbeat seemed audible in the awful hush. Movement caught her eye. She looked up and gasped. Shadows whose blackness was deeper than the night were filtering through the open windows. At the far end of the hall another shadow billowed through the door, its aura cold and nocturnal and malignant. The shadows could only be seen by the way they blotted out all light. The deadly fog began to fill the room.
“Go away!” Ana screamed. “You aren’t allowed in here!”
Despite her threats, the shadows crept closer. Tendrils began to reach toward her. One touched her ankle, its chill palpable. She shook her leg, rattling her chain, and the tendril dissipated. But more came on.
“Deu is the Lord! Get back!”
At those words the shadows retreated a bit. Ana stood up, holding her encumbering stone with two hands. The fog began to creep toward her again. Walking steadily toward the door, Ana chanted a verse from Deu’s twenty-third Hymn: “When I walk in the valley of death’s shadow, I won’t fear any evil, because you are with me.” The third time she recited it, the darkness parted, and Ana reached the door.
Then a wicked voice struck fear in her heart.
“We killed your parents,” the voice hissed. “We will kill you too.”
No! Ana’s concentration broke, and she lost track of the verse she was chanting. The dark clouds closed in. She looked back, terrified by what she saw. The shadows had assumed the form of a large, bat-winged monster. Two red eyes gleamed in its head. It uttered a moist, guttural, rasping sound, like the death rattle of a consumption patient. As the spirit began to swoop toward her, Ana fled into the night.
Running as fast as she could with the stone in her arms, Ana left the monastery and took a narrow path through the forest. She didn’t have any destination in mind but only wanted to escape the shadows flitting about. Branches clawed at her bare legs. Dread weighed upon her. It seemed entirely plausible that the shadows had killed her father and mother. Though Ana had come to terms with the idea of never seeing her parents again, her escape from the oubliette had reawakened her hope that she might someday be reunited with them. Are they really dead? The demon’s words had touched one of her deepest fears—a fear she had never acknowledged even to herself.
As Ana rushed headlong through the forest, the chain around her ankle caught on a root, and she fell. Crying out, she turned to face the evil spirit that loomed over her. Dawn was approaching, and Ana could see the demonic shape outlined against the blue-black sky. The morning star gleamed directly above its head.
“Back!” she cried,
raising her palm. “You get back, in the holy name of Deu!”
The shadow chanted at her, “No escape! No return! No escape! No return!” The prophetic words sucked the life from Ana. She knew the spirit was right. There would be no return to Chiveis. The demon spoke the truth. It possessed all knowledge. It had all authority. It could make anything happen.
Ana’s head spun as coldness engulfed her.
“Leave her alone!”
The speaker’s pronunciation was thick and dull, yet the words contained power. The voice was too deep to be Drake’s. Ana turned her head from her position on the ground. A bulky figure emerged from the gloom, waving a torch. The black demon dissolved into the forest as the man approached.
The unknown man knelt beside Ana, staring into her face. He was thick-lipped and brutish in appearance, yet she did not sense violence in him. She was not afraid.
“Bad shadow,” he said slowly. “Very bad.” The man’s words were spoken with the deliberate effort of one whose mind is weak. Cautiously he stretched out his hand and laid it on Ana’s shoulder. She smiled. The man’s bearded face brightened. He hurried off, then returned with a basket. Removing a loaf of bread and an earthenware jug, he placed them on the ground.
“For me?” Ana pointed to herself. The man nodded his large, bald head.
Ana pulled the stopper from the jug and put it to her lips. The wine wasn’t an excellent vintage, but it was certainly drinkable. She tipped back her head and guzzled a long draft with her eyes closed. When her thirst was quenched she set down the jug and wiped her mouth, then looked around.
The man from the forest was gone.
On a quiet balcony, a middle-aged man and woman stood side by side. Though they were husband and wife, they no longer knew if they were father and mother. The eastern horizon was beginning to lighten, and a breeze hurled ragged clouds across the predawn sky.
“Maybe today,” Stratetix said. His voice was thick with emotion. Helena d’Armand slipped her hand into her husband’s.
“Yes, my love. Maybe today.”
“Let it be so, Deu,” Stratetix whispered. Helena nodded as she bowed her head.
After a long silence, Stratetix continued. “Remember the first time she came back? We weren’t expecting it, and then suddenly—there she was! I often imagine it will happen like that again.” His words were hopeful, yet Helena knew the hope was tempered by a heavy dose of realism. It had been ten months since Anastasia’s exile.
“That was a joyous day,” Helena agreed, “a day of celebration and delight.”
Stratetix chuckled. “I remember how Ana came out on this balcony in the middle of the night. She talked with Teofil out here. I wasn’t exactly sure what was going on between those two.”
Helena smiled as she squeezed her husband’s hand. “I know. You almost got out of bed to spy on them!”
Stratetix glanced at Helena, amused. “A father is supposed to worry about such things,” he said.
“Teofil is a good man. You don’t have to worry.”
At those words a shroud of gloom descended on the husband and wife as they realized they had every reason to worry. Their only daughter had gone with Teofil to a remote hut on a frigid glacier. She hadn’t been seen since. Ana’s flight was her only option, other than to deny her faith in Deu. Stratetix and Helena admired their daughter’s courage, yet it came at a great price. They had endured a gut-wrenching sacrifice when she left Chiveis.
The turbulent clouds continued to swirl in the sky, though most of the stars had faded now. Only one remained, cold and bright. Stratetix felt despair well up. “She isn’t coming back, is she? It’s futile to hope.”
Helena turned to Stratetix and encircled his waist with her arms. “It’s never futile to hope. Though we can’t know the future, we know Deu holds all things in his hands.” She paused, resting her head on Stratetix’s shoulder. “Shall we pray?”
Stratetix stifled a sob with a fist over his mouth. “You do it,” he said. “I—I can’t.”
Helena’s prayer ascended to heaven from the wooden balcony of the little chalet in Edgeton. She prayed for her daughter’s protection from evil, for her faith to be strong, and for her eventual return to the land of Chiveis. She also prayed for Teofil to be a courageous and noble protector. Finally she prayed for her husband and for herself—that they would not give up hope in Deu, the All-Creator, the Eternal One.
When the prayer was finished, Helena looked at her husband. His expression was grave as he stared into the distance. Thick clouds had settled in, covering the morning sky. It would be an overcast day.
“Maybe today,” Stratetix said again.
Helena took his hand. “Watch and wait, my love.”
Drake had grown tired of his plaything. The little mouse was starting to rebel against the cat, and it scared him. Mice were supposed to be fragile creatures, easy to dominate. That was what Drake wanted most in his companions: absolute surrender. Their acquiescence made him feel alive and potent and virile. But Anastasia of Chiveis was threatening. Drake decided he would have to do something about her very soon. She must be made docile and submissive. Death was the only way to achieve it.
The woman had run off during the night, but Drake had found her on the west end of the island near the hut where the reclusive simpleton lived. Although Liber was a feeble-minded behemoth who constantly muttered gibberish, he excelled at two things: wood carving and honey making. Somewhere along the way Liber had been taught the beekeeper’s craft. Drake was glad for this because the pirates would pay good money for a sweet treat. As for Liber’s wood-carving ability, that was no learned craft but an astounding inborn gift. It was difficult to believe an imbecile like Liber could carve so skillfully and in such exquisite detail. The pirates who stopped at Hahnerat—always a superstitious lot—coveted the figurines and pendants he fashioned from olivewood. Drake gave Liber a little food and drink in exchange for his honey and carvings, then resold them to the pirates at a profit. The idiot was an excellent source of income. Beyond that, Drake left him alone.
Anastasia snapped Drake out of his thoughts. “The porridge is ready,” she said. “Bring your bowl over here.”
After the woman spooned hot gruel into his bowl, Drake took the pot from her and sat under a eucalyptus tree near the craggy beach. When he had eaten two large helpings, he licked his spoon clean and handed it to her with the pot. “You can have what’s left,” he said. Ana used a piece of bark to scrape the bottom of the pot, eating the last of the porridge while leaving the spoon untouched.
“Look at you, gobbling that slop like a beggar woman,” Drake said. “Your clothes are so ragged they barely cover you. Your hair is filthy, and so are your feet. What a mess! You disgust me.” He turned his head away.
“My appearance isn’t what matters,” Ana replied. “My soul remains clean, and you can’t touch that, Drake.”
“Oh yes I can.” Drake turned back to the woman, staring at her. He pointed a long, pale finger in her direction. “I can drag you down to horror and despair! Your soul belongs to me now. You’re all alone, Anastasia—totally and completely alone. Do you imagine you can get off this island? Ha! Think again. I’ll play with you for a little while longer, and then—” Drake lifted his stout club. “Then I’ll knock you down and do as I wish.”
His sneer caused apprehension to flicker in the woman’s eyes, though she quickly overcame it. “My life doesn’t belong to you,” she said. “It belongs to my God.” The confident assertion infuriated Drake. He leaped to his feet.
“Your God is a worthless piece of garbage! He claims to be loving and good, but where is he now? Is he watching over you? No! You’re a repugnant old biddy, haggard beyond your years. I’ll never unlock your chains, and you can’t fight me. I’m far too strong for you. Soon you’ll be dead, and there’s nothing you can do about it. You know that in your heart!”
Rage had taken hold of Drake now. Spittle flew from his mouth as he spoke. From around his neck he remove
d a thong on which a key dangled. He held it up. “Look here! This is the only key to that lock on your leg. What do you think of this?” Drake dropped the key onto a rock and began to smash it with the butt of his club. Again and again he pounded the key until it was dented and misshapen. A wild feeling of exultation overcame him. “What do you say to that, Anastasia? Huh? What do you say? Did your big strong God stop me? Did he? Huh? Did he?” Drake felt breathless and jittery, yet strangely jubilant.
Ana didn’t answer.
She despises me as a fool.
The realization gnawed at Drake’s gut. He wanted to scream but forced himself to regain control. Touching his tongue to his lips, he spoke more calmly. “Let me ask you something—how do you know your God is good?”
“It is written many times in the Hymns and other places in the Sacred Writing.”
“Maybe those writings were made up long ago by foolish men.”
“If the Sacred Writing were foolish, why would so many people have treasured it over the years? And what other book has been preserved through the centuries like this one? Even after the Great War of Destruction, it has been found again.”
“There are many old books in the world.”
“Maybe. But they don’t ring out with truth like this one. The Ancients revered Deu, and I understand why. Even the little I’ve read about him tells me he’s worthy of devotion.”
“Curse you, woman, open your eyes! He’s a cruel and vindictive deity who withholds good things from his creatures. He delights in destroying their dreams. Why don’t you wake up and recognize the truth? Deu is repugnant!”
“You’re wrong, Drake.” Ana gained a fierceness of her own now. “Your blasphemies won’t shake my faith. The Sacred Writing describes Deu’s goodness, and I’ve experienced it in my life. I know it’s true. I’m a follower of Deu. I won’t depart from him no matter what you say.”
Drake narrowed his eyes. “Then you will follow Deu to your destruction, Anastasia of Chiveis.”
“My God will protect me. And even if Deu wills that I should die, he will gather me to himself.”
The Gift Page 28
