“If this were your isle, and a strange and uninvited vessel docked at your shores with three score of armed men, wouldn’t you make a show of strength, so as to show your authority here?” Yasen asked him.
“Yes, I suppose I would,” Cal agreed.
“But these men are not armed. In fact,” Yasen paused, peering at the host of men in the darkening distance, “not one of them is even wearing a shirt, let alone cloak or mail or helm. And they seem to be holding some kind of large, mirrored looking glasses.” Yasen’s expression was riddled with perplexed curiosity.
“Looking glasses?” Cal said in an unsettled confusion, disturbed by just how out-of-place that sounded. “Whatever for?”
“That is what haunts my thoughts, groomsman. That is indeed what haunts my thoughts,” Yasen told him.
“Alright men!” Seig addressed the curious crowd of crewmen. “The wounded and weary will stay and recover what strength they can here aboard the Determination. Captain Means will see to the order upon the ship. The rest of us will make our way inland and see just what kind of hospitality awaits us upon these beautiful shores and in that manse atop the hill.”
“What about arms, Governor?” Tahd asked.
“Yes of course, Captain,” answered Seig. “Bring your blades and unfurl our banners, but see to it that you keep the sharpened steel in your sheaths. We are not looking for trouble; the THREE who is SEVEN knows that we have had trouble enough to last our whole journey long. We seek only rest and a bit of mending. Pyrrhus, you and what’s left of your knights will be at the vanguard. Yasen, you and your woodcutters will take the center, and Tahd and I will follow closely behind,” ordered Seig.
Yasen made a face at Seig while his back was turned, a clear display of his disproval of this entire course of action. Cal noticed, and would have laughed out loud if the situation were not so potentially dangerous. As it was, he simply met Yasen’s eyes and nodded at him, a silent understanding passing between them that if things went ill, as they suspected, they would rally to aid each other first.
The men of the first colony formed their columns; their javelins were decorated with the green banners of Haven, whose silver sigil of the tree and the flint glinted in the faint amber of the fading day. They had marched almost the whole length of the hidden dock, but before Pyrrhus and his men could set foot on the sandy shores of this mysterious isle, a shirtless man approached them. Pyrrhus slowed, surveying the hundreds of men that seemed to spread behind the emissary as far as the eye could see. The men of the colony felt an uneasy tension as they looked at the host that lined the shores of the isle, all standing statuesque with barely a hair blowing in the sea winds.
The first man looked to be nearly four decades old; his hair was long and his beard was shaven. Then he spoke, and his eyes went from a dark, lifeless black to the wild yellow of a rotting lemon. “Welcome, men of Haven, welcome to Isle Dušana. The Lady Morana has been eagerly awaiting your arrival.”
Without pardon and without pause, another of the shirtless men spoke. He must have been no older than twelve or thirteen, still a young boy. “Come, please,” he said, bowing his yellow-eyed head in humble courtesy. “For the Lady Morana has prepared a feast in your honor.”
At the mention of the word feast, the men of the Determination were instantaneously intrigued, and Pyrrhus couldn’t help but salivate at the thought of what mysterious delectables lie deliciously piled high and steaming atop this Lady Morana’s table. The shirtless, motionless men with their black and yellow eyes seemed far less disturbing and out of place when they were graciously offering food and hospitality.
“Thank you for your generosity, sirs,” Pyrrhus spoke, eager to get to whatever table waited for him and his men in the manse upon the hill. “May I present to you Governor—”
“Seig,” the first yellow-eyed man said as he interrupted the now-befuddled knight.
The columns of men parted as Seig made his way forward to be received by this mysterious man who seemed to have not only been expecting him, but also knew his very name. One at a time, and yet with great speed and impressive precision, each of the shirtless men began to form a line on either side of the shell pathway. When the formation had been completed, the young boy’s eyes lit yellow once again and he addressed the tall, cloaked governor.
“Welcome, Governor Seig, Lord of the first colony and bravest among officers. Come, please, you and all of your men … for the Lady Morana awaits you at her table.”
Seig saluted the herald boy, and, flanked by Pyrrhus and Tahd, he led the company up the path towards the manse. As if on cue, the shirtless men, who were now standing in parallel lines, positioned their looking glasses in such a way as to both catch the fading amber light in their large mirrors and then reflect it again to the mirror of the next man. The light shot back and forth across the pathway from one looking glass to the next as each man held his mirror high above his head, creating a canopy of zigzagged light for the men of the first colony to walk beneath. The beam of amber traveled all the way up the winding path of shells and into the masterfully columned mansion.
“There is something about this that does not sit well with me, Deryn,” Cal whispered into his cloak. “Something dark lives here, I can feel it as sure as any other sense I have.” A bit of blue light peaked out from the lapels of Cal’s cloak as Deryn, the sentinel of the house of Iolanthe, observed the eerie scene that unfolded before them.
The men of Haven walked up the winding path, flanked on either side by an army of seemingly lifeless men. Since positioning their mirrored looking glasses, not a single one of them had moved a muscle, nor had they spoken any other words; it was as if they had become stone statues here along the shores.
Cal slowed his steps, and as he was at the rear of the line, no one seemed to notice his pausing to investigate. “Cal, do you see what I am seeing?” Deryn asked him in a hushed tone as he looked carefully out of Cal’s cloak at the unmoved men, trying to stay hidden from the view of the ship’s crew. “Their eyes … they are all black!” Deryn whispered in stunned anxiety. “Not a white or a color to them, just … empty darkness.”
Cal began walking again, slowly and carefully, not wanting to alert the strange host of his suspicions. “You’re right, my friend,” Cal tried to speak without moving his lips as he attempted to nonchalantly catch up with the rest of the men from the colony. “It’s all of them,” he said as they continued down the path, still a good distance behind the main party. “They all have the same eyes of dead darkness.” Cal risked a stop again to stare at one of the men.
Without warning, the statue of a man turned his head as his eyes lit up in that sickened, yellow color. “You must not keep the Lady Morana waiting, Calarmindon, for we have much to feast upon.” Cal jumped at the unlooked for sound of this man’s voice.
“And as for the Spriteling you are trying to conceal,” the yellow-eyed man said, “long has this world sat bereft of his kind. What delight the Lady of Dušana will take in beholding such an ancient one.”
The head of the man turned back, slow and deliberate, facing the same direction as the rest of his shirtless company, and without so much as a whisper of breath or sign of slumber, the eyes of the man returned back to the dead, dark color just as quickly as they had come to life. Cal stood there, motionless, for fear was beginning to strangle the sense of curiosity that this mysterious isle had but briefly held over him.
“This is a place of dark magic,” Deryn warned with quiet alarm. “You must stay on your guard.”
“How did he know our names?” Cal asked, his face stricken with the dread of the unknown forces at work. “I do not believe this place will be the respite that the governor hopes it will be, not at all. There is an evil just below the manicured surface here that I do not think I wish to encounter.” Cal reached for his blade, testing to make sure it was indeed still where he had last strapped it.
“Come on, Cal, let us not discover what happens to those who wander off and find th
emselves left alone or lost,” Deryn urged.
With that, Cal ran to catch up with the remaining host of Haven. The company wound its way up the immaculately groomed hillside towards the marble-columned manse on the top of the hill. Hundreds of men, still holding mirrored looking glasses, lined the long, shelled pathway from the shoreline all the way up to the top of the hill without a break in their eerie chain. Though some of the men of the first colony saw this as a display of honor and hospitality, there were yet a few in the company that sensed the danger that brooded just below the facade of courtesy.
“Yasen,” Cal whispered at his friend.
The chief of the woodcutters met his gaze without responding to his words, for he too did not wholly trust that the dark-eyed servants of this Lady Morana were robbed of their ears.
“Yasen, I do not—” Cal bit back his words, for just as he was about to voice his fears, one of the shirtless men turned his now yellow-eyed gaze to the whispered conversation. Cal swallowed hard, and the palms of his hands began to sweat; he had the sickening feeling that they were a flock being led to slaughter. All of his brothers were strangers in this strange land, and they had the undeniable appearance, here on the path surrounded by the servants of the isle, of being hunted and herded all at the same time.
Yasen gave him a knowing look and then lifted his finger to his mouth in a silent warning not to speak in the presence of these men. Cal nodded in agreement, but turned around to take full stock of the pathway that had brought them there. Something inside of him knew that he might be leaving this place with great haste, that he might need to know the shortest way back to the ship.
“Hail, men of Haven!” the voice of the young boy rang out, addressing the company. “Welcome to the Isle Dušana, and welcome now to the home and manse of Morana, Lady of the Isle.”
Another man, whose eyes flashed yellow the very moment that the young boy’s went dark again, spoke out and continued to address the company. “Our lady has seen fit to welcome you with a great and elaborate feast. Her table is prepared with barrels of spring wine and spits of roasted meats; every fruit of the great ocean is yours to feast upon. Cheeses and whipped butters, honeyed cakes and ripe olives, spiced mead and a bounty of warm bread is yours for the taking.”
A third man spoke, his eyes now glowing with the same haunting yellow. “Our lady begs you to take your fill and dull away your water-weary senses with food fit for a king. There will be time enough on the morrow to mend your storm-tossed ship, but for tonight … please, feast and fill.”
“Your lady’s hospitality is most generous, and for that, the men of my company and I will be eternally grateful,” Seig said to the last man.
The eyes of the first man flittered back to yellow before he spoke. “That is her only desire, Governor.”
“When will I have the pleasure of thanking this gracious hostess of ours?” Seig asked.
“You will have to wait not a moment longer,” the sultry voice of a woman spoke out from beneath the shadows of the columned porch.
Chapter Forty-Six
“My lady?” Seig asked the hidden voice.
“I do so hope to be,” she said.
Just then, each shirtless man turned, one at a time but with great speed, to face and point the reflecting light of his mirrored looking glass in the direction of the porch. The amber light shifted to illuminate the portico of the columned mansion, and its concentrated brightness revealed a shocking sight. There, dressed in the thinnest gown of pearlescent silk, stood the Lady Morana, mistress of the isle. Her flaxen hair hung round her milky white skin in luscious ringlets of pristine symmetry. She approached the company of men with a gait that made her appear to glide over the ground instead of merely walking upon it.
With each movement of her hips and sway of her breasts, the whole of the company came under the intoxicating power of her sensual beauty. “Come, come please, gentlemen,” she said while lifting her slender, perfectly manicured hands and pursing her scarlet lips. “For I have slaved long and prepared all of this in your honor, and it would certainly be a travesty to let this meal turn,” she fixed her hypnotic stare on the now kneeling governor, “cold. Wouldn’t you agree, brave Governor?”
Seig’s cheeks flushed with the red of barely-tempered lust. Flustered and a bit embarrassed, he replied, “Why of course, my lady, that would be a travesty in the worst way possible.”
“Oh, Governor,” she purred as she took his arm. “You are too sweet. I could just … well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves now,” she said with a wry smile.
Seig smiled the stupid grin of an unaware lover who had just walked into a most deadly entrapment. It took a great deal of effort, but when he finally managed to tear his eyes away from the lady of the isle, he addressed his men. “Well, come on then, let us not keep this—um—delicious gifting of our gracious hostess waiting any longer!”
Morana led Seig and the company of his men into the great hall of her columned mansion. The walls of the interior were lined, floor to ceiling, with mirrored glass, and the room glowed with the last remaining illumination of the day’s fading amber light.
There in the center of the great room stood the most elaborately set table that any of them had ever seen. This single table was long enough to seat the full company of sixty men, and wide enough to hold the mountains of delectable fare that were piled high upon its center. When the men of the first colony had first laid eyes on the lady of the isle, a guarded suspicion had been heavy on the minds of the wisest of the company. But the longer they spent in the radiance of her seductive beauty and the more they listened to her alluring voice, the less their suspicions, and all other thoughts for that matter, seemed to exist in their consciousness. The men laughed and cheered, for they had never seen a spread of food this fine in all of their days, and their lips were desperately thirsty to taste the barrels of spiced meads and spring wines.
“Sit and eat, tired men of Haven. Drink away the sorrows of the cruel seas and let your mind wander to prettier thoughts.” Morana laughed as she ordered the men about in a most irresistible sort of way.
The room exploded with merriment, and soon the men were all feasting and singing and telling exaggerated tales of exaggerated feats. Seig was taken by the arm and led by the Lady Morana to the head of the table, where two chairs made of polished oyster shells had been prepared by the throng of shirtless servants. When they had taken their seats, Seig and Morana in turn had their chairs pushed comfortably to the table by her servant men. Soon a harpist came near the hearth at the center of the eastern veranda. His hair was curled and grey, though his eyes shown yellow in the now silver light that was reflected in the mirrored hall.
Music filled the merriment, and the minds of the men of the first colony were slowly but deliberately dulled by the pleasant assault on their senses.
“My lady, my beautiful Lady Morana,” said the young first mate of the sunken Resolve, finding a bold voice amidst the crowd of lustful sailors and soldiers. “I have seen and experienced much loss in these last dark days, and you are the brightest beauty that my weary heart has ever beheld. May I but have a single dance with the lady of the isle to lift my still grieving spirits?” he asked in an overly dramatic yet playful way.
“Why of course, it would be my pleasure,” she said while taking his hand and leading him to the marble floor beyond the musician servant.
The music of the harpist rang through the mirrored hall of Dušana, and the Lady Morana danced and laughed as the young first mate twirled her about in great ecstasy. He was a talented and spirited dancer in his own right, and many a night afloat at sea he had danced to the songs of the crewmen. But here, in the arms of a woman whose very presence dripped with provocative allure, he danced more magnificently and more passionately than ever before, or ever again. When the song finished and the two dancers bowed to each other, the half-drunken men let out a hearty applause.
At the prodding and howls of the men, the two of them took another
bow. “Thank you, my lady, but I fear my heart will never be satisfied with the empty melodies of halfhearted music until my feet dance in time with yours again,” he said as he kissed her delicate, milky-white hand.
“Well then, perhaps you might take this little song with you on your journey, so as to warm your spirit, and quicken those lonely pulsings of your heart,” Morana said. She took his head in her hands and kissed him a bit deeper and more greedily than any had ever expected. The first mate’s eyes went wide in excitement and remained that way until Morana’s lips parted from his own. He stood there, still as a stone in utter amazement. Morana gave him a deeply satisfied smile and wiped the moisture from her lips with her fingers.
The men howled and hooted, begging for their own kisses and their own dances, but Morana just smiled and sat back down at the head of the table with the governor.
“Why is he still standing there like that?” Cal leaned over and whispered to Yasen.
“You just wait, brother,” Yasen laughed. “If you get the pleasure of kissing a woman half as beautiful as the Lady Morana, well … I suspect that your feet will have forgotten how to work too!”
Cal laughed and smiled in return. “Perhaps you are right, brother! Perhaps I might get a bit of the luck that our friend has had this evening!”
More wine and mead was passed, and more goblets were filled and then drained, yet still the first mate stood motionless on the marble floor of the great-mirrored hall.
“Cal!” whispered Deryn. “I do not trust this place, or that witch of a woman. There is evil underneath all of this merriment. Remember? You said it yourself.”
“Do not concern yourself with the things of men, my friend,” Cal said, doing his best to brush away the worry of the Sprite. “For how could there be evil when such a charming and pleasant woman governs this land?”
“I may not be human, but it is plain enough to see that your wits have been dulled beyond the point of foolishness,” Deryn growled with infuriated frustration.
The Great Darkening (Epic of Haven Trilogy) Page 41
