by MJ Haag
Devastation
A Beastly Tale
Part 3
M.J. Haag
Devastation
Copyright: Melissa Haag
Published: August 25, 2015
ISBN: 978-1-943051-99-1
Cover Design: Melissa Haag
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without express written permission from the author.
Chapter 1
The tattered remnants of the world I’d held so dear drifted from my mind. Anger and hate clouded my thoughts.
I shook fiercely but refused to give in to the tears that so desperately wanted release. My stomach cramped from the recent abuse and the restraint to contain myself, and my face ached from the blows Tennen and the baker had delivered. Yet, the pain did not distract from the lingering feel of that grotesque, vile man as the carriage rumbled toward the Water. My skin crawled, and my lungs refused to work properly.
I remained so lost in the violent experience that I barely noticed when the carriage pulled up before my father’s house.
The driver hopped down from his perch and offered a hand to help me down. I needed the help. The shaking in my legs had only grown worse.
Once I was on my feet, the driver turned to Father’s home and knocked on the door. Trembling in Mrs. Medunge’s cloak and my nightgown, I stood behind the man.
Father opened the door, took one look at me, and ushered me in.
“Benella, what’s happened?” he said, wrapping an arm around me to steady me.
I could only shake my head. He tried quizzing the driver, but the man bowed and said to expect to hear from his master soon.
That penetrated my clouded mind. My stomach dropped. The returned Lord of the estate. The image of him standing so calmly burned my eyes; still, no moisture gathered.
As soon as the door closed, Father led me to a chair then quickly left to pull water from the well. When he returned, he dipped a cloth into the pail, wrung it out, and held it to my cheek. I flinched from the pain and the reminder of what had happened.
“I’ll fetch the physician,” he said, already turning away.
“No.” I caught his hand to stop him.
I wasn’t hurt so badly that I could justify what a physician would cost. I would recover. Yet, as Father faced me with concern, I knew he would insist unless I explained my abused appearance.
I averted my gaze as words spilled forth.
“I interrupted an attempted thievery at the beast’s estate,” I said, staring at the table. “The beast was...elsewhere. The thief carried me to the baker. The baker attempted to rape me. His grotesque belly saved me,” I said in a broken whisper. “I’m shaken and bruised. Nothing that won’t heal.”
“Oh, my girl.” Father knelt beside me and wrapped me in his arms. His compassion almost released the tears I struggled to withhold.
“I don’t want to go back,” I said in a tight, pained voice. “They all play cruel games. I thought Aryana a friend, but she’s the enchantress who has held the beast this whole time. They were both there at the baker’s.” I lifted my head and met my father’s agonized gaze. “Their presence stopped the baker, but they otherwise stood by indifferently.”
“I’m so sorry, Bini,” my father whispered with tears in his eyes. “I wish I knew how to fix this.”
I knew he meant more than the attack I’d suffered. He pulled me back into a comforting hug, trying to protect me as he had from Tennen’s bullying when he’d moved us to the Water. Yet, instead of Father making the sacrifice he’d intended, I’d been tricked into staying with the beast who I had thought would protect me as zealously as he’d protected his estate. Sadly, I had wrongly assumed his level of affection for me. The ache in my chest continued to grow, but for Father’s sake, I withheld my tears.
Father pulled away and offered me the use of his room, along with some of his clothes. After I dressed, I sat on his bed with my elbows on my knees and stared at my folded hands.
All the advice Aryana had given or not given made more sense. She’d used me in her game with the beast. As Rose, she’d tried to dissuade me, thus steeling my determination to help. As Aryana, she’d given me the knowledge I’d needed to navigate a world I’d not understood. I recalled all the times she had said she worried about me. She had been sincere; I didn’t doubt it. Yet, it hadn’t been enough to stop her game.
Finally, tears fell hard and fast. With a muffled sob, I curled up on my father’s bed. I cried until I felt empty and numb. Then I just lay there, remembering not the attack but my last days with the beast and his caring attentiveness. It made the pain I already bore twist bitterly. How could I miss someone who so easily watched my abuse and just as easily sent me away?
A knock sounded at the cottage door more than an hour later, jarring me from my thoughts. I recalled the driver’s promise, and I felt a stab of pain through my chest. A small part of me wanted Alec to rush through the door. Yet, if he did enter, which Alec would it be? The mercurial beast or the cold lord?
A shiver ran through me a moment before Aryana strode into my father’s room without knocking. Though her unannounced appearance shocked me, I didn’t sit up or acknowledge her. Instead, I continued to stare at the space the door had once occupied.
My heart continued to break as I realized Alec wouldn’t come because there was nothing left to say. Bitterness began to eat the pain. He’d gotten what he’d wanted. His freedom. And by mere seconds, he’d made sure I’d left with the last piece of myself for my husband. I almost snorted. Husband. There would be no husband for me.
“Fifty years ago,” Aryana said, pulling me from my musings, “Alec’s mother came south looking for a way to help her son. She found me just before she died. Her story and love for her son moved me enough that I gave her my word I would help him become a better man, a man of whom she could be proud.
“When I came to the North, I could not believe the depravity. It was simple to open the Whispering Sisters. We serviced men, and I gained power from their lust. I used that power to shift the balance. I cursed the beast and drove out the dregs he had let in. Those of his servants who had stood by and let their Liege sink lower and lower without attempting to reason with him joined him in his enchantment.
“To give him hope, I set the price of his freedom on one night of pleasure. His earliest attempts fueled me so much that some of the energy seeped into the estate, making it possible for him to control some of the enchantments when I allowed it.”
When she allowed it. The phrase struck me cold. She had been the one to control the vines, then. She’d allowed Tennen to take me, even after witnessing his past crimes against me. She’d sacrificed me so the Lord of the North might be free. Whatever friendship I’d thought we’d shared had only existed in my mind. The knowledge hurt me more than Tennen’s fist had.
“When I saw you, time and again, bravely walk the mist surrounding the estate and boldly confront the local boys, I knew you were the one to help him.” She paused for a moment. “I’m sorry for the lies and all you have suffered to free Alec. Yet, if he had been warned about your danger before dawn broke, he would not be free now.”
I could feel her expectant stare but didn’t meet her gaze.
After several long moments of silence, she stood. Did she think her story would justify how she’d used me? Anger and disbelief clawed at my insides.
“I’m sure his mother would be pleased with the result,” I said in a raw whisper.
She looked down at me for a moment, her expression closed, befo
re sweeping from the room.
Father came to look in on me, but said nothing as I continued to lay there and sort through my thoughts.
When Tennen and Splane had started chasing me, I hadn’t hated them. I understood their angry reaction to my knowledge of what their mother had done with the baker. However, I struggled to see any possible explanation to excuse Alec and Rose from my burning resentment. The way she’d gone about trying to help him was a mockery. And, how could he have held me and listened to me read the night before, then make no move to help me when I needed him most?
When my father checked on me a second time, wringing his hands with worry, I decided I’d given those who’d hurt me enough thought. To think of them further would only allow them to harm me more. So I closed off my heart, sealing in the pain, and sat up and gave my father a small, reassuring smile.
“Is there anything to eat?”
He nodded and went to the kitchen to fix us a modest meal.
His attempt, boiled oats that looked more like paste, made me smile. We ate while laughing about it. The laughter didn’t touch me inside. I doubted anything would ever again.
* * * *
For the next several days, I stayed indoors, and Father remained my constant companion. When I asked about his teaching, he declared he’d educated the sisters as much as he thought possible for the time being.
I wondered if that meant we would be moving soon. The thought stopped me. Would I be moving with him? I was of an age where I should marry. However, where once I thought marriage something to look forward to, I no longer did. The memory of the baker pinning me to the lounge as he thrust down on me gave me shudders.
For how long could I ask Father to keep me as his dependent? I cringed, thinking of how he’d struggled to provide for his grown daughters so far. Yet, what other options did I have?
I contemplated the possibilities for my future often; there wasn’t much else to do with my time.
Father left one morning and came back a short while later with a package. Inside, lay a plain, coarsely spun dress. Nothing fancy, but entirely suitable for leaving the house, unlike my shirt and pants. I knew my seclusion needed to end for his sake; so, I smiled my thanks and went to his room to change.
When I emerged, he offered to walk with me to the market street, but I declined. Content to keep my solitude, I left the house alone.
Memories continued to haunt me and not just of the baker. As much as I’d tried to lock away my thoughts of him, the beast dwelled in my mind. I’d always known he would forget me, but hadn’t realized how quickly, and I missed his mercurial presence.
Needing a distraction, I walked to Bryn’s new home to see how she fared as a bride. When I stepped in the storefront, I was surprised to see her wearing an apron and assisting customers. She looked tired, though it was still early morning. I moved to the counter to see if she would have time later to talk.
Bryn caught sight of me and marched over.
“Your kind is not welcome here,” she said with a malevolent hiss to her words.
A woman next to me gasped and took a step back as if I were in quarantine again.
“My kind?” I asked, puzzled by my sister’s hostile attitude.
“Whore,” she spat. “We heard what happened in Konrall. How could you refuse the baker’s offer after lying with him? Get out.” She thrust out a finger, pointing toward the door.
I stared at her, my temper spiked and spiteful. She called me a whore? She had another man’s babe growing in her belly. My gaze flicked there, and she paled. Her hand trembled.
“Have care with the titles you bestow me,” I said, then turned to leave. Only the babe’s future held my tongue. The innocent child she carried need not feel the sting of her parent’s misjudgments and cruelties.
Word of the incident quickly followed me home. Father said nothing when I closed myself in his room once more to sit on his bed and consider my fate. I had no skills other than my education; and with my new reputation as a whore, no one respectable would want me teaching their children. The only unrespectable place to teach—the Whispering Sisters—was out of the question because of Aryana’s betrayal. Discounting a teaching post, I reflected on my other skills. I could hunt and fish, but not well enough to make a profit to pay for a home. Enough to eat, though.
I shouldn’t have shunned the occupations that my sisters had learned. Skills such as cleaning and cooking would have been useful to gain employment as a maid; yet, the effort I’d put into restoring the beast’s estate made my incompetence at those skills painfully obvious. What did my future hold for me now?
After bundling my shirt and pants in a pack, I left the room. Father looked up at me with a slight frown of worry.
“You need to go back to teaching, and I need to figure out what I will do with my life,” I said with determination.
He nodded slowly, opened his mouth as if he would say something, and paused.
“What is it?” I asked.
“I want you to be happy,” he said with a sigh. “Would returning...” He cleared his throat. “Did he make you happy?” he asked tentatively.
A sad smile curved my lips. He had. While he was the beast.
“He made life interesting, but there was more danger there than I’d realized.”
I left through the back door before he could say more.
Skirting around town, I headed south, wandering aimlessly through the woods until I felt I’d hiked far enough from town to set traps. I walked a long circuit twice, gathering as I went.
Time had passed quickly while at the manor, changing the seasons, so the forest provided several herbs and berries that I used in the traps. Three rabbits found their ends in my snares before I returned to an empty house.
Dressing the game brought back memories of my attempts at cooking with the beast. I smiled as I started a fire and brought out a kettle. I set two of the skinny hares in the pot and filled it with water. Then, determined, I wrapped the other and walked to the market street again.
Everywhere I went, I met censuring eyes. No respectable business would trade with me. Giving up, I turned from the market street and walked toward the less respectable trade district, taverns where women served men in several ways.
Houses of those working that area lined the next street over. I approached the door of one that had a small garden. The woman who answered greeted me with a smile when she heard my offer—the hare for two carrots and a small onion. She assuredly received the better part of the deal. When she hugged me in thanks, I saw two small children behind her. Their large eyes followed the game.
Happy that someone had welcomed the trade, I returned home and added the carrots and onion to the stew and left it to simmer. When the carrots were tender, I placed a portion in a much smaller kettle with a lid and walked to the seamstress where Blye worked. Living in a tiny room above the shop, I couldn’t imagine she ate well.
A bell tinkled above my head when I opened the door. Blye knelt at the feet of a woman, pinning the woman’s hem. When Blye looked up and saw me, her polite expression closed. She murmured to the woman, begging for a moment, before she stood and strode toward me.
“You can’t come in here,” she whispered. With a firm hold on my elbow, she turned me around.
“I just wanted to bring you some stew,” I said as I offered the little kettle.
Her eyes shifted to the woman who watched us with disapproval.
“I can’t accept anything from you. Just go, Benella,” she said in a low, urgent tone. “Associating with you will ruin everything for me.”
Disbelief coursed through me. I turned stiffly and walked out, hiding how her words hurt me. The lure of accomplishment and status had robbed my sisters of basic kindness.
My feet carried me to the houses close to where I’d traded for the vegetables. A thin child played in the dirt outside one of the homes. Inside I could hear moaning and knew her mother’s work. I waved the child over and offered her the food. She no
dded eagerly. Since there was no spoon, I wiped her dirty hands on my skirt and watched her use her fingers. After she finished, I showed her how to write her name in the dirt. She smiled brightly as I left her practicing.
I watched the faces of the people I passed and realized something. The pursuit of success and respectability hadn’t just led my sisters astray, but many others as well. It shouldn’t be that way.
* * * *
While I fetched water from the well out back that evening, a knock sounded at the door. I didn’t move to see who it was. No one I knew wanted to speak to me, besides my father. Inside, I heard him move to answer the door. The quiet exchange as I hauled up the bucket had me wondering. When Father called for me to join him, I became even more curious.
Carrying the water inside, I found a young woman standing just inside the door. Dressed in a demure gown, with her dark hair pulled back, she watched me with an unsure smile.
“Hello, Benella,” she said quietly.
She seemed to know me, but I could not recall her.
“Hello.” I looked to my father, but he excused himself and walked out the front door, leaving me alone with her.
“Please, come in,” I said, unsure what else to do.
She smiled once more and stepped in further, so I could close the door. She didn’t move to sit, however. She lingered near the table, her hands tightly clasped before her.
“I wanted to thank you,” she said. “We all wanted to, but we decided I would be the best to speak to you.”
“We?”
“My name is Egrit. I understand if you want me to leave.”
Egrit. The familiar name brought a bittersweet tingle to my nose. I blinked twice to ease the sensation then moved forward and wrapped her in a firm hug. She returned it with a sniffle.
“We weren’t sure if you would be angry with us,” she said, pulling back.
I looked into her bright hazel eyes and saw the nymph still there.
“Not at all. You all tried to help me when you could. I understand that.”
