The Stumpwork Robe (The Chronicles of Eirie 1)
Page 27
The two black swans rose off the water, one after the other into the air. Up over the sea wall and higher, banking along the coastline. Adelina realised she had no idea of Maeve’s plans thereafter and prayed to Aine to keep Lhiannon safe.
As she moved away from the willow, she heard running feet and on turning the corner, saw Luther, Severine and some heavy men running down the walk toward her.
‘Where is she?’ Severine spat the words at Adelina.
‘Meriope? I sent her to the potager,’ she gestured with her arm to the far side of the walled garden where a tall hedge shielded a vegetable garden from the sea wind. ‘I wanted strawberries.’ she prevaricated, praying.
Severine reached back and swung with an open palm. Connecting with Adelina’s cheek, she nearly knocked the embroiderer over. Adelina saw a universe of stars as the force of the hit scrambled her thoughts.
‘You liar! Luther was watching! He saw one swan come in and two leave. She was a swan-maid, wasn’t she?’ She hit Adelina again, this time on the other cheek. ‘Look at me, bitch. You knew! She has taken the souls. I know because I went to your room and you thought to cheat me with this?’ She screeched as she threw a piece of satin at Adelina’s feet. ‘By Behir, woman, I could kill you, you have no idea what you have done.’
‘But I do, Severine,’ Adelina replied with as much calm as she could muster, refusing to place hands against her burning, throbbing cheeks. ‘I know exactly what I have done. And I would do it again and again and again because you are a liar. Worse, you are a murderer. You can’t bribe me with Kholi’s and Liam’s safety because I know they are dead. So kill me. I have absolutely nothing to live for. Do it!’
Her calm resolve appeared to shake Severine. The woman stood for a moment in an apparent quandary then allowed a vicious smile to wipe clean the uncharacteristic confusion. ‘Let me see, what is worse? To end your life or to continue forcing you to embroider the robe. Well for sure working for me will be purgatory, won’t it, akin to being damned? But how to make you? HAH!’ Her eyes lit up with the brightness of an idea. ‘Bring her, Luther and bring your harquebus.’
One of the men came up behind Adelina and pushed her hard and she followed Severine to a barred fenestration in a brick wall through which she glimpsed fields, a sickeningly pastoral scene.
‘Look,’ Severine grabbed her and pinching with her fingers, pulled her to the opening. Adelina caught her breath. There on the far side of the field, grazing with a herd of mares was Ajax. Her hands came up to her mouth and the tears that had remained dry for days, welled up and overflowed. Her Ajax, the only family remaining. Loyal, faithful Ajax with the back broad enough to be that of the unseelie Cabyll Ushtey.
‘Yes,’ Severine drawled. ‘Ajax. Luther, fire!’
Adelina spun around as the muzzle of the weapon appeared over her shoulder, aiming at Ajax. ‘NO,’ she screamed, knocking it wide. ‘No! I’ll do what you want!’
Severine nodded complacently. ‘Indeed. Then you shall sew, Adelina, because Ajax’s life depends on it. Every day you shall take your walk and every day you will come to the window and if you have been good, you will see him there. Do you hear me?’
Adelina nodded, aware of the stalemate, unable to stop the tears and thinking Severine was worse than any Other she had heard of. Worse than the Hag, the Hunt, the Barguest, Black Annis, all manner of malfeasant wights whose purpose it was to maim and trouble mortals even to the point of death.
‘Where has she gone?’ Severine grabbed the embroiderer’s arm and twisted it up her back. Adelina hunched away from the drag on her tender nerves and muscles.
‘I don’t know. She had a feather and she called the swan-maid and they planned this between them. She’s of the Faeran, Severine, you have truly aroused their ire.’
Severine laughed, a freezing tinkle that provoked shivers. ‘And you think I care? When I have this?’ She held up her finger with the battered ring on it. ‘So the girl is Faeran. Crafty chit. Well no matter. She’s with a swan. She can only go to the swan haunts. My hunters will soon find her and when they do, I’ll retrieve the souls and then you shall complete the robe and my dream will come to fruition.’
‘Why not catch more souls, Severine? Why chase her? She could be anywhere.’
‘Stupid woman. Because she has defied me, stood in my way and I shall punish her. Let it be a lesson, Adelina. Those who deny me, die. I shall find her, never fear. I have many ways of seeking.’
Adelina, sickened by the self-important preening of Severine, felt the dam wall holding her emotions cracking and collapsing; no Kholi to remind her that self-opinionated rhetoric was ever her undoing. She spewed forth. ‘Aine you are full of yourself, so cocksure. How do you, such a mundane mortal, plan to do this? With more Luthers, more men all over Eirie?’
Severine coloured but remained cool. ‘In a manner of speaking.’ She whistled, a high-pitched sound with tongue against her teeth, a shrill call that peeled shreds from Adelina’s nerves. Curious baying, like the sound of wind through large pipes filled the air as a pack of wild white hounds ran into the garden seeming from nowhere. Above them fluttered three black ravens, shape-changing as they landed on the ground, to swarthy, black clad men. Severine’s own men, Luther included, backed away from them and from the unseelie hounds whose eyes glowed red and who snarled through rapacious teeth. She laughed. ‘Do you know the Cwn Annwn? The hounds of the Wild Hunt? The Gabble Retchet, Herl’s Rade? They could sniff her out, even that thieving little chit. And my black ravens, the Black Ravens of Mimring? They can fly anywhere and find her. She stands no chance.’
Adelina cringed as a hound sniffed her skirts. His hackles stood on high and every thing about him spelled hell and damnation. Her heart sank as she realised this‘changeling’, her lifelong enemy was so much more than any of them had ever realised. Severine snarled in a fierce dialect and Adelina realised she was speaking Other, disbelief rampant as she felt her hand grabbed by the icy fingers of her adversary. She was dragged to the garden gate. With her other hand, Severine clicked her fingers, spoke a charm and the Cwn Annwn and the Mimring Ravens vanished. ‘I have studied much over the years, Adelina, and money opens so many doors, Others included. I have access to things you could only dream of.’
Adelina could barely believe the limits to which Severine had gone. That many a mortal had tried to achieve at the cost of their own lives. Her horror knew no bounds and she continued to erupt with unbridled fury. ‘All except the power of immortality, eh, Severine? Didn’t you realise Liam had forgone his immortality? His soul will hardly be of use.’ She had a desperate need to unsettle the woman’s superiority. ‘What a shame… so near and yet so far.’ A cracking blow on the side of her head let her know she had rubbed too hard and by Aine it hurt.
Severine’s face filled with hatred as she hissed back. ‘If what you say is true and I doubt it, it is of no matter. I shall find another, of that I am positive. Perhaps Meriope’s,’ she turned to her thugs. ‘Take her away, she bores me.’
Luther and another grabbed Adelina’s arms and she was dragged up to her room, head ringing, cheeks stinging. But it felt so good for she had, just this once, fought back and fought back well. The pain was evidence.
She walked to the window and looked down at the waves and then out over the sea.
Lady Aine, she prayed, look after Lhiannon. Guide her and keep her safe and bless the lives of Ana and Kholi and of Liam and Elriade. And Lady Aine, if you have the time, bless me and keep me safe. I have great work to do and I need your help.
***
And so my long-suffering friend, you have now read the first part of my stumpwork robe. You have stepped through the embroidered landscape from the left front of the gown, to the left of the centre back seam. And by devious means you have followed my story, accompanied my heart as it was warmed, and watched as it was cut out and trodden on. In consequence, you have seen me develop a hatred and desire for revenge so intense it could burn things to cinders if it we
re touched. And to my shame, you have seen how I am guilty of contributing to a friend’s death, maybe even contributing to more than just the one death. You can judge.
And I suspect you wonder if my revenge will be any stronger than the mere penning of a few tiny books.
I will tell you this.
My hatred consumes me.
It fills me with a smouldering blackness and each time Severine comes near me she fans the coals that little bit more. Here a spark, there a flame. I swear on Liam’s and Ana’s souls and on the soul of my beloved Kholi Khatoun that vengeance will be sought.
It merely remains to be seen, dear companion, whether you would journey onward with me, to the other side of the robe. For this story shall end, mark my words, and it will all be the better when it does. For do they not say in Eirie that ‘revenge is sweet?’
So repair to the right front of the robe and let us read on...
THE END... for the moment.
If you enjoyed this first part of Adelina’s story, you will also enjoy the sequel, The Last Stitch, which is due to be released on Kindle soon.
You may also find details of the author on (www.pruebatten.com)
And more of her writing, thoughts and fan-fiction on (www.mesmered.wordpress.com)
REFERENCES
1. Stumpwork Embroidery by Jane Nicholas. Sally Milner Publishing NSW 1995
2. Stumpwork Embroidery. Book Two by Jane Nicholas. Sally Milner Publishing NSW 1998
3. Stumpwork Dragonflies by Jane Nicholas. Sally Milner Publishing NSW 2000
4. Stumpwork Beetle Collection by Jane Nicholas. Sally Milner Publishing NSW 2004
5. Peel tower poem: ‘Invidious rust...’ from http://www.peletower.freeuk.com from the poetic works of John Leyden and Sir Water Scott.
6. Coracle racing inspired by Folk Customs of Britain by D. Macfadyean and C. Hole. Hutchinson London 1983
7. The moonlight poem: ‘Where moonlight...’ from Leprechauns, Legends and Irish Tales by Hugh McGowan V. Gollancz London 1988
8. The names Kholi and Lalita from Bride and Prejudice, the movie. Directed by Gurinder Chadha, Bend it Productions 2005
9. Irish-English Online Dictionary. http://www.irishdictionary.com
10. The Inns of the First, Second etc Happiness inspired by the inn in the movie, The Inn of the Sixth Happiness. Directed by Mark Robson, Twentieth Century Fox 1958.
11. The Historic Fart from Breaking Wind. Legendary Farts. Folktales of Flatulence. Selected and edited by D Ashliman 2000 http://www.pitt.edu/~dash/fart.html
12. The Enchanted World... fabled lands. E.Phillips (Director) Time-Life Books NY 1986.
14. The evening poem: ‘The evening is festooned with golden cloud...’ poem by Erik Johan Stagnelius. http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/27429-Erik-Johan-Stagnelius-Nacken---Water-Demon
15. Coping with Grief by Mal Mckissock. ABC Books Sydney, 2001.
16. Spirits, Fairies, Gnomes and Goblins by Carol Rose ABC-CLIO LTD Oxford, 1998
17. Leprechauns, Legends and Irish Tales by H. McGowan, Victor Gollancz, London, 1990
18. The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying by Sogyal Rinpoche Random House London, 1992