Sister of the Dead

by J. C.

  She'd heard him refer to Lord Massing as Father, but Welstiel looked to be the elder of the two. Fine lines surrounded his cold eyes, and his dark hair was white at the temples. Her opinion of him was only slightly better than that of the other two. He was quiet and removed, and he seemed to disapprove of both her presence and captivity.

  On a narrow stand beside Ubad was a strange vessel, not unlike a vase that she'd once seen used for cut flowers. Metallic and yellow red, perhaps made of brass, it was covered in etched symbols. A dark liquid filled it nearly to the top, though its color was unclear in the room's low light. It made her anxious when she realized that the thick, sweet scent in the room came from whatever the vessel held. She tried to back away. Lord Massing's hand flattened against her back. Magelia stepped farther into the room, away from his touch.

  Welstiel looked her over, and she saw that his face looked different from before. His dark eyes were flat and emotionless like Lord Bryen's. His skin was pale.

  "Is she not improved, my son?" Lord Bryen said. "I had the gown purchased in Stravina and sent all the way from its capital, Vudran, just for this night. I've seen you admire women in this color and style. "

  Fear began to grow in Magelia.

  "What do you want from me?" she asked.

  All three men ignored her.

  "I have no interest in anything you ask, Father. " Welstiel said. "You might as well take her back to her room. Or better yet, release her from this lunacy. "

  Bryen shoved Magelia toward Welstiel. She caught herself on the nearest post of the bed. A heavy curved sword leaned by the headboard behind Welstiel, and she froze.

  "You will do as I say!" Bryen ordered, and a semblance of anger surfaced in his voice. "The careful and costly steps of Master Ubad cannot be wasted. It has taken him a lifetime of preparation for this night. "

  His voice lowered and softened, but Magelia kept her eyes on Welstiel's face, occasionally glancing to the sword.

  "You play a role far greater than you know, my son, " Bryen continued. "You will sire our patron's treasured one. A Noble Dead cannot lead its own kind in what is to come, nor can a mere mortal. Something of both is needed. You will hold the esteemed position of father to a being this world has never seen, even in its forgotten days. A herald of what is to come when our patron wakes again. "

  Magelia's stomach twisted. She didn't understand all she heard, but one thing was clear.

  "Do as Master Ubad instructs, " Bryen said to his son. "Drink the collected life of the five that has been prepared for you. Then take this girl and make a child of day and night before which all the world will fall. I know this woman appears to be only a peasant, but she is from old blood, very old, and a singular vessel for this creation. "

  Welstiel's dull eyes widened.

  "You want me to drink more blood... and make a child with... with that?" He gestured to Magelia. "No! Even when I would have done anything to please you, I wouldn't have done this. I will not touch blood again or touch this woman. "

  "Young lord, you do not understand—, " Ubad began gently.

  "Quiet!" Welstiel shouted. "You are the cause of all this, and I am sick of your poisoned tongue. "

  He pushed past his father, and to Magelia's surprise, he broke easily away from Bryen's grip on his shoulder.

  Welstiel paused when he reached the door. "If you wish to serve that masked abomination, " he spat back at Bryen. "You will have to accomplish it without me. "

  He slapped the door open with one hand and slammed it shut behind him.

  Bryen circled around the bed to the door but stopped short, staring at it. Magelia began inching nearer to the sword.

  Lord Massing and Master Ubad stood still.

  "Can I take his place?" Bryen suddenly asked. "Will it still work?"

  Ubad's mask made it difficult to read his reaction, but Magelia knew he was startled. His mouth dropped open briefly, as if Bryen's suggestion horrified him.

  Magelia reached the far post of the bed's foot and was about to step toward the sword.

  Ubad finally answered in an anxious voice. "There must be a way you can command him. He is your son. "

  Bryen looked at Magelia, and she froze where she stood. "Desire cannot be commanded, " he said. "And we cannot fail now that we've come so far. "

  Ubad bowed his head until Magelia no longer saw his mask, but there was something akin to sorrow or regret in his voice.

  "No, we cannot fail, " he whispered. "I have heard our patron, stood before him within his dream. I spent my life at his bidding in this task.... Prepare yourself. "

  Lord Bryen let his tunic slide off to the floor, and he removed his shirt. His chest and arms were tightly muscled but pale and hairless. There was no sign of a wound or scar where Magelia had stabbed him with the knife in her cottage. Ubad lifted the brass vase, and handed it to Bryen.

  Magelia tried to make herself small and invisible. She kept one eye on Bryen and inched along the bed's far side.

  "When the spirits fade, you must drink immediately, " Ubad told Lord Bryen.

  He began chanting in a low voice that slowly grew louder. Magelia felt a breeze pass through the room, though there was no open door or window. The bedclothes whipped up from around the mattress, and she shrank away.

  Two softly glowing shapes materialized near Ubad. They grew sharper and clearer as his chanting increased. They were transparent, but Magelia saw the color of their hair and clothing. One was a lovely middle-aged woman with light brown hair. She wore a tan wool dress and crown of leaves on her head. The other was a savage-looking woman with matted black hair. She wore black armor like large reptilian scales, and when she opened her mouth to hiss at Ubad, Magelia saw elongated fangs.

  Reason told her these were but ghosts, spirits of women already dead, but they looked furious and disoriented. When Ubad's chant grew to a shout, they began to scream.

  Their shapes wavered, and suddenly they meshed into each other and vanished.

  Ubad's chant hammered in Magelia's ears as Bryen lifted the brass vase and gulped the liquid inside. Some spilled out the corners of his mouth and ran in deep red trails down his neck to his chest.

  Bryen's pallor darkened until his skin looked healthy. He drank until he seemed able to take no more, and then he dropped the vase upon the stone floor with a clang. He wavered, clenching his mouth closed as if the draft threatened to rise back up his throat.

  Ubad's chant ended, and he slumped into the wall with exhaustion. "Now, " he managed to say.

  Bryen circled around the bed.

  Magelia rushed to grasp the sword. The sheath slid away as she spun around, swinging the blade with both hands.

  Bryen's glazed eyes were fixed hungrily upon her. The sword's curved tip nicked his right shoulder and dragged across his chest.

  He cried out in pain and shock. Magelia stumbled under the weapon's weight, her swing pulling her toward the wall. As she tried to bring the blade up again, he stepped inside her reach and backhanded her across the face.

  Magelia's vision flashed white and then black, and she felt herself falling. Something scraped along her fingers as the sword was jerked from her hand. Her returning vision jumped again as her head struck the mattress. She felt Bryen on top her, pulling apart the silk dress. His skin felt different from when he'd dragged her by the wrist from her own room. It was now warm, nearly hot. Blood from his chest wound smeared across her exposed torso.

  She struggled but couldn't move under his weight, and he did not waste time in pinning her arms. When he pushed himself into her, the pain was explosive.

  Magelia remembered nothing more until a numbing cold called her back from unconsciousness. Bryen stood at the foot of the bed, staring at her with an expression she had never expected.

  Fear. His features wrinkled in pain as the icy cold in the room deepened around Magelia.

  Bryen's features turned blank with shock as he whispered, "No. "

  His face grew lined, and the color in his
skin faded.

  Through the burning pain between Magelia's legs and the chill all over her skin, she watched Bryen begin to age.

  "Ubad!" he cried out, his voice cracking like an old man. "Why did you not tell me the price?"

  "Because you would not sacrifice your son, " came the hollow answer as Ubad looked away.

  "And you would sacrifice me?" Bryen asked, his voice now just a rasping whisper.

  "We cannot fail, " Ubad answered.

  Bryen grew withered beyond old age, his hair falling from his head. His skin dried and shrank upon his bones, and then split like old bleached parchment.

  Magelia closed her eyes, not wanting to see any more.

  She did not know how much time had passed when she stirred again into consciousness. It was dark, the room lit only by a strange globe of flittering lights. Welstiel stood over her at the side of the four-poster bed.

  "Are you all right?" he asked.

  She sucked in one shuddering breath by way of an answer. She would not let these things holding her captive see her cry. Every part of her body felt bruised, and she could not sit up.

  "Help her, " Welstiel said, looking across the room.

  Magelia rolled her head with great effort. One of her bedroom guards stood at the other side of the bed. He reached down to lift her.

  "Carefully, " Welstiel added.

  Magelia was limp with pain and exhaustion as she was carried to another room with a large bed and a painted white wardrobe. The serving girl who'd dressed her earlier was hurrying about, filling basins of water and bringing towels. Magelia was laid on the bed, and Welstiel stood nearby looking quietly distressed, but he did not touch her.

  "My father is gone, and I am lord here, " he said. "You carry his child, and no one will hurt you. This girl is here to care for you, to help you. If you need anything, she will bring it. "

  In the days and nights that followed, she was not allowed to leave the keep. But she herself had changed. She could not explain the open sorrow mixed with gratitude she felt for Welstiel's belated concern. Her dependence upon Welstiel grew more pronounced until she almost feared the very shadows of her room outside of his presence. She slept during the day, so that she could spend her waking hours in his company rather than alone.

  At times he required privacy, but for the most part, Magelia found he didn't mind her presence, so long as she never touched him or spoke too often when he was occupied. As her body began to swell with child, he took greater efforts for her comfort, even ordering cotton dresses with loose bodices, so the child would not be constricted.

  Welstiel moved himself to another room and ordered the furnishings of his old one to be taken out and burned, including the four-poster bed. He kept the globe of flittering lights but never returned to that room again. Master Ubad was allowed to remain as long as he kept out of Welstiel's way.

  "Why don't you get rid of that abomination?" she asked Welstiel one night.

  They sat in his new room as she embroidered a blanket for the child. Welstiel spent many hours there making strange objects, etching symbols in them as he whispered in a soft voice she could never quite understand.

  "Because you might need him when the child comes, " he replied.

  His answer was so unexpected that she faltered. The old Magelia would have threatened to run him through with a sword if he allowed Ubad anywhere near her baby. But she feared he might leave if she were disagreeable, and then she would be alone in this place.

  "Why would you think this?" she asked. "There is a good midwife in the village. "

  Most recently, Welstiel had been working on a thin brass ring. It required a great deal of his time. One evening, it took almost the whole night for him to carve one tiny symbol with his steel stylus in the string of marks running along the inside surface of the metal. The only other object of his that she found curious was a glowing topaz resting near his leather-bound books.

  Welstiel looked up from his ring in mild annoyance. "The child you carry is not natural. Therefore its birth cannot be expected to be natural. We may yet have need of Master Ubad's knowledge. "

  Magelia nodded and went back to her embroidery. She would find a way to keep Ubad from this child.

  Welstiel slipped the ring on his finger. The glow of the topaz upon the desk suddenly went out, and Welstiel nodded in satisfaction

  "Perfect, " he said to himself. Magelia didn't ask why this pleased him.

  As she grew heavier with child, he became concerned that she needed exercise and fresh air. He walked with her about the courtyard in the early evenings. Sometimes he brought the globe so that he could sit and read while she continued her walk, but she did not mind this as long as he stayed within sight. She was never certain if his concern was for her or the child she carried.

  One night as they walked, he was more preoccupied than usual.

  "Is something wrong?" she asked tentatively, as he did not like his private thoughts invaded.

  "No. " He seemed to speak to himself more than to her. "In my sleep today, I had a dream. I didn't know that I could, as I have had none since... since shortly after I came here. "

  "A nightmare?" she asked with concern.

  Welstiel looked at her. He shook his head with a frown, as if embarrassed to be discussing a personal issue. He made a passing remark about repairs to the courtyard wall and then paused to lift one hand to the white patch at his temple.

  "What is it?" she asked. "Are you ill?"

  He didn't answer and stood there whispering to no one. He came back to himself and escorted her inside.

  After that night, Welstiel changed in small ways.

  He was never unkind, but their limited conversations became almost nonexistent. When he did speak, it was only to ask about her health and the baby. Some nights he appeared more rested, but often he would come down in the evenings looking exhausted, as if he hadn't slept at all. On those nights, he would whisper to himself and rub his temples as if a persistent ache troubled him.

  For two more moons, Magelia's stomach swelled, and the baby kicked inside her. She found the sensation pleasant and spoke to the child, as there was no one else left for her. She didn't care who its father had been. This child was hers, and hers alone.

  Welstiel mixed elixirs and drank them and spent more time chanting in the nights. His state of mind improved. He seemed to gain control over whatever plagued him, but his interest in the child increased.

  One night as he worked in his room, she entered without knocking to find him sitting at his desk with a bloody bandage wrapped around his left little finger. He dropped something into a bowl on the desk, and the liquid inside hissed and bubbled. She came up behind him, and he was so intent that he didn't notice her. Next to the bowl were the beginnings of a pendant with a tin backing and a stout bloodied kitchen knife.

  She looked down and gasped. The object hissing in the bowl was the top of his little finger. Acid began eating away the flesh.

  He was startled by her touch on his shoulder, and he whipped around. "Get out, " he ordered. "I am working. "

  Magelia fled to her room, holding her stomach. The old Magelia, the fierce Magelia, began to whisper inside her that she might need to protect this child from more than Ubad.

  The night her pains began, Welstiel behaved like the politely concerned man she had known in the early to mid-months of her pregnancy, before his dreams. He had the man-at-arms, whose name she never learned, help her into bed, and he called the serving girl to assist her.

  "I will bring the midwife, " he said.

  "Her name is Betina, " Magiere told him. "She brought me into the world. "

  Even through her labor pains, she could not help smiling at him. He was going for the midwife himself instead of sending one of the guards. The pains grew closer together, but she did not cry out. Sometime after he left, she rolled on her side and looked to the doorway.

  Master Ubad stood there, as if watching her through his eyeless mask.

  "Stay
away from us, " she said.

  He glided slowly down the hall beyond the door's frame and out of sight.

  Welstiel seemed to be gone too long, but this was Magelia's first child, and the labor took time. She felt the child coming and needed to push. The shock of pain when she tried to do so made the room dim, and she screamed.

  The serving girl ran to her side. "What is it, miss?"

  Before Magelia could answer, the child inside pushed downward on its own accord, and she screamed again.

  Welstiel hurried into the room, and the midwife, Betina, followed close behind him. He was carrying a small bundle in a bloody, tattered blanket.

  "What is that?" she whispered.

  "Get out!" he ordered the serving girl.

  The young woman rushed from the room, and Magelia was alone with Betina and Welstiel.

  The child pushed again, and the pain was so sharp, she couldn't speak or breathe. Tiny knives seemed to cut her from inside, like the child was clawing its way out. Betina was standing over her, and the woman's face was white, as if she had been through an ordeal or was ill.

  "Magelia, " she said. "Hold on, my girl. Let me see what is wrong. "

  Welstiel set his bundle down and crouched beside Magelia near the bed's head. She felt a rush of wet warmth between her legs and thought perhaps her water had finally broken.

  Betina gasped, and Magelia knew she was wrong.

  "Am I going to die?" she whispered to Welstiel.

  "Yes. "

  "Did you know?"

  "I suspected. "

  "You must protect the baby, " she begged. "Keep it from Ubad. "

  He looked into her eyes and then reached out to grasp her hand. It was the first and only time he had ever touched her.

  "I have planned for this, " he said. "Ubad will never have this child... if he is convinced it is dead. If you love your child, you will help me. "

  She didn't understand what he meant, and her mind went white with pain as the knives began cutting again. After what seemed like an eternity, she felt the child slide from inside her into Betina's hands.

  "Is it all right?" she asked, growing weaker.

  "A girl, " Betina answered. "A healthy girl with your black hair. "