by Sam Dogra
I murmured thoughtfully. The name sounded familiar. Then it clicked. She’d written many of the healing books we had back home. Father must have brought them with him when he finished his studies here. I’d started reading them during the long summers in Adam’s absence, and surprisingly, a lot stuck. Of course I didn’t know half as much as Father, but hey, he was the official healer. I was just the apprentice. How ironic my journey had brought me to the city where he’d learnt his art. Had circumstances been different, I might very well have followed in his footsteps.
A lone tear rolled down my cheek, and I clutched the iasometer under my sleeve. I was starting to miss him, and Mother, too. I could only imagine how worried they must be. First Fiona, then me; two daughters lost to this awful curse. Not that they knew a Binding had stolen me away, but the consequences were just as terrible. I prayed they’d found my note; I didn’t want them thinking something awful had happened. And Adam—I wondered how he was doing. Was he out there, searching for me? Or had he found someone else to worry about…
Pigeons cooed, and I spun around. My eyes fell to the building beside the Hall, where a cart stood waiting. Burlap sacks were stacked next to the horses, each marked with various symbols; the different town and city crests of Azaria. That must be the postal cart about to set off on deliveries.
The temptation to write a proper letter home jumped to mind, but I wrestled it down. Much as I wanted to be certain my parents knew I was alright, I couldn’t waste time. I’d have plenty of chances to feel homesick once I came back from the archives.
Crossing my arms to keep warm, I scanned the signpost behind the statue. However, I couldn’t find the way to my destination.
Someone whistled, and I looked back to the post office. The postmaster was waving the driver off. As the cart set off with its cargo, I wandered over.
“Sorry to bother you, sir,” I said. “I’m looking for the Lanaran archives. Could you tell me where they are?”
The postmaster smiled.
“No trouble at all, miss. Follow the Cathedral Road,” he said, pointing at the lane that ran parallel to the Councillor’s Hall, “and it’s on the street before you reach the cathedral itself. You might be too early though. They tend to let visitors in after the ninth hour.”
“Ah, thank you.”
The postmaster bowed, then returned to the office. Stifling a yawn, I made for the Cathedral Road. It was aptly named, as the buildings were arranged in such a way the elegant crystal dome could always be seen. It was also closer than it appeared from my room at the inn, which was a relief. Lanaran was built to a scale I wasn’t used to, and easily spanned a couple of miles. A problem when you considered my limit to explore wasn’t even half that.
People began to fill the alleys, and stalls popped up on street corners. The aromas of charcoal and roasting nuts mixed in with the scents of honey and almonds, and my mouth watered. I hadn’t eaten for days, and a sugary treat would’ve really hit the spot. However, as I reached for the money pouch I’d acquired from Ruthwall, it wasn’t there. I rolled my eyes. Ryan must have taken it for safekeeping when I’d passed out. Sighing, I forced myself past the tasty snacks, pinching my nose to stop my stomach growling.
Soon the archives came in sight. Engraved letters proclaimed its name on a triangular plaque. Two iron gates flanked the front, revealing a small courtyard. They bore brass emblems of a sword and fox. One of the noble families must own the place.
I headed for the main door and knocked. No reply. I tried the right hand gate; it was locked. I stamped my feet. The postmaster had been right—I was too early. And it was freezing out here. But going back to the inn was unthinkable. I couldn’t leave, not until I’d had a chance to look through the records. If that meant turning into an icicle in the meantime, then so be…
“Something the matter, miss?”
My heart vaulted into my throat. Coughing to hide my yelp of surprise, I glanced round. A portly man dressed in so many layers he could have been mummified had appeared, a quizzical expression on his face. His bushy eyebrows and tufty beard made up for his bald head, and his brown eyes gleamed.
“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, lowering his head. “But you seem rather interested in the Goddess Shrine archives?” He sounded hopeful.
“I…er…yes?” I spluttered. Then I bit my lip. Had it been wise to admit that? What if he was going to swindle me? Not that it would do him any good. I hadn’t anything of value on me. Nothing of monetary value, anyway.
The man’s eyes lit up.
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” he beamed. “You’re lucky I caught you.”
Yup, he was definitely going to swindle me.
“You see, with the University closed for the midwinter holidays, we’ve had no visitors, so I haven’t opened up at all this month,” the man went on. “I came to do some cleaning, but if you’re here to take a look, then I’d be delighted to let you in!”
I raised an eyebrow. So he wasn’t a conman out for a quick coin; he was a scholar. That explained his sudden appearance, though it did raise the question as to why the place was open to the public if nobody cared to visit them. That aside, this was ideal for my purposes. With no-one around, I could browse freely and not have to fight over particular books or scrolls. I’d be back at the inn in no time.
“Oh, where are my manners?” the man said, scratching his head. “My name is Bergundy. I’m the scholar responsible for the upkeep of the archives. Pleased to meet you!”
I smiled.
“Likewise,” I said. “I’m…Elle.” It was safer to fall back on Ryan’s silly nickname. I didn’t want to leave clues as to my whereabouts. “I’m visiting from, er, Bane. I’ve heard a lot about the archives, and I’ve always wanted to see them for myself.”
“From Bane?” Bergundy asked. “You’ve come quite a way! I am impressed with such dedication.” I had to hold back a chuckle. He probably hadn’t been this excited in a long while. “Please, let me delay you no longer. Follow me.”
He waddled towards the gate, where he produced a bundle of keys from his wrappings. The bars squeaked open, and we crossed the courtyard. He unlocked the main entrance, then gestured me inside.
The scent of musty books and old leather was such a contrast to the outside, I sneezed. On the plus side, the warmth was more than welcome. Copper pipes lined the walls and ceiling, no doubt to preserve the artefacts, and windows broke up the wall, allowing an unspoilt view of the cathedral grounds.
“Is there any part of the archives you are particularly interested in?” Bergundy asked, reaching for the torch cradle in the entrance hall.
“Um…” I wasn’t sure how to respond. Then I shrugged. The Binding was common knowledge, and I had nothing to hide from the scholar. I might as well tell him straight. “Well, I was wondering if you have anything about the Binding spell?”
“Ah, a complex subject,” Bergundy said, lighting his torch. “We don’t have much, but we do have an interesting thesis on how the spell was created. I’m sure you’ve heard of The Tale of the Binding?”
I nodded. Every child in Azaria knew the story of how the curse came to be. Mother used to tell it to me when I was young. It started with a prince and princess who fell in love, but they were forced apart by their families. Treachery and deceit caused the prince and princess to turn against each other; however, the Goddess intervened, and cast a spell so nothing could tarnish the purest love. She called the spell the Binding, which would always keep those in love together forever. The prince and princess, reunited at last, made an oath to the Goddess so the spell would remain eternal, and then they lived happily ever after.
Of course, my experience was a whole lot less idealistic…
“My dear, are you alright?”
Damn it, I was daydreaming again. I flashed an apologetic smile.
“Oh, sorry, I was miles away,” I said. “Yes, I’ve heard of the Tale.”
“Well, the esteemed Lord Balthanders wrote a
very thought-provoking paper that claimed the Tale was based on the feud between the Gladier and Farrontine Houses. He managed to find a diary belonging to one of Lady Farrontine’s maidservants to try and prove his theory. It’s quite the read.”
I nodded again, though much less enthusiastically. A scholar’s thesis written by a powerful nobleman? Did I want to plough through something so academic? Father had schooled me to be a fast and able reader, but I wasn’t sure I could handle so heavy a text. It wouldn’t do me any good to read it and not understand a single word. But it was the only lead I had.
I sucked in a breath. Well, beggars couldn’t be choosers.
“Sounds perfect,” I said.
Bergundy’s smile widened.
“Excellent! Then let me take you to the library.”
Once again I trudged after the scholar, our footsteps echoing off the floorboards. Eventually we stopped at a set of double doors. Bergundy unlocked them, and I helped him remove the steel bar blocking our way.
The moment I stepped into the chamber, I gasped. Row upon row of books, scrolls and leather folios stretched from end to end, leaving narrow aisles to walk through. A brass chandelier dangled from the ceiling, and oil paintings adorned the walls. What caught my eye the most, though, was the beautiful stained glass window at the rear, which cast pools of colour at my feet.
“Quite the sight, isn’t it?” Bergundy purred, lighting the candles mounted around the room. “Only Begara’s Vault of Knowledge and the Academy in Viens are larger. We have had many generous donations over the years, none less from Lady Ezengarde herself, who founded the archives, and many original documents and relics recovered from the shrine. In fact…”
“Sorry to interrupt,” I said; I didn’t have time for a lecture on the history of the archives, “but I’ve waited quite some time to see this place and find what I was looking for. Mind if you show me the paper first?”
Bergundy looked crestfallen. Immediately I regretted my words. I hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings.
“I mean,” I added hastily, “I’d love to hear more about the archives later. It’s just I really did want to learn more about the spell.”
The scholar brightened.
“Ah, I understand,” he said, rubbing his palms together. “When one becomes gripped in the fever of learning, there is little that can be done to stem it. Wait here. I shall retrieve the document.”
He disappeared into an aisle. I could hear him humming as he checked through the books. I rocked on my heels, glancing at the stained glass window. To no-one’s surprise, this depicted the Goddess in her four winged form. She gestured to the sky, and around her stood men and women carrying farming tools. They were praying for good rains.
As I peered closer, a golden shimmer appeared around the Goddess, akin to the strange haloes I’d seen in the shrine. Panicking, I looked away. Nothing else took on the sparkling glow, and I sighed.
I didn’t dare look at the window again.
“Here we are, Elle,” Bergundy called. His footsteps clopped across the floor, and finally he appeared, carrying a leather-bound book tied with red string. With almost holy reverence he handed it to me. “The pages are in better condition than most other works here, but please take care.”
“I will,” I said, eyeing the leather greedily.
“You may use the reading area over there.” Bergundy nodded towards the desks and chairs below the stained glass window. A candle stand sat amongst them, which he’d already lit. “I shall be around if you need anything. Just call for me.”
“Thank you.”
The scholar trotted down another aisle, so I strode to the desks and sank into the nearest seat. Propping the book on my knees, I turned to the first page.
‘The Binding spell has long held a mysterious influence over the people of Azaria since the Era of the Goddess. The source of its power and its purpose remain lost in the distant past, yet the only known record of its birth is the Tale of the Binding. Though the historical accuracy of the legend has been long disputed, there has never been any attempt to verify it using contemporary sources. My recent discovery of an eye-witness account concerning the feud between the lost Houses of Gladier and Farrontine prompted me to challenge this trend, as I feel there are many parallels between the two tales. Whilst I cannot prove the two stories are one and the same, I have nevertheless provided a structure through which…’
Yawn. This was going to take forever. I tried to take in as many words as I could, but it wasn’t long before my attention drifted. The language was so verbose, not at all bedtime reading. Sighing, I skimmed through the pages, until I found a chapter that looked promising: ‘The Tragic Tale of the Lost Houses’. Curling up in my chair, I settled to read through.
‘After the end of the Era of the Goddess, the two most ancient noble Houses, Gladier and Farrontine, shared rule of Azaria. Their heirs would take turns on the throne between generations. This system had been in place for centuries, to acknowledge the pact forged between them after both families unified the kingdom. However, in order to keep the tradition fair, the Houses were forbidden to form relationships with each other.
‘Sadly, tragedy was to bring this harmonious custom to an end. The Farrontine heir, Leanne, who was to become the next Queen, fell into a river whilst out riding one day. She was saved by the Gladier’s only son, Romano. They took a liking to one another, for both had been sheltered and missed companionship of one their own age. But their innocent friendship soon became much more, and they started seeing each other in secret, despite knowing they were breaking the ancient taboo. It went along for a while, when at last they were discovered and forced apart.
‘Leanne tried desperately to escape, but she was imprisoned and made to drink a vial of crestorvine, the mind-numbing concoction, by her own father. This removed her from her senses, and she was married to another lord. Romano, not knowing his love had been manipulated, flew into a maddened rage and killed Leanne’s younger brother. This led to a bloodthirsty bout of revenge killings, assassinations and murders, and eventually both families were slaughtered.
‘Some days after the fall of the last Gladier, a cloaked woman visited the palace. At first the guards would not grant her passage, but she pleaded to leave an offering for the dead. Moved by her words, the sentries let her walk into the gardens where Leanne and Romano were buried. This was a final kindness from Leanne’s most loyal servant, who managed to re-site Romano’s grave to let them rest together.
‘The woman stepped to Leanne’s tombstone, and there placed a wreath of lilies. For Romano’s, she gave a wreath of roses. Kneeling before both graves, she muttered a prayer, and then departed. The guards followed her, untrusting of her motives, but she vanished without a trace.
‘When they returned, they discovered the gravestone engravings had changed. Instead of proclaiming grief about the two deceased lovers, they now bore the same message: “Love ties our souls as one, and all who are touched by its blessing will remain together in an eternal Binding”.
‘Immediately one can see the obvious similarities between the two tales, but most striking is the use of the word ‘Binding’. Several points can be noted thus. First, this is amongst the first written record to capitalize the noun, and could well be a reference to the spell we are familiar with today. Second, there appears no evidence the spell was involved in the relationship between Leanne and Romano, though many have speculated that Leanne’s out of character state could have been due to the effects of becoming Unbound. I would not concur with such a conclusion, for…’
I slouched in my seat, rubbing my eyes. This was going way over my head. While the story was interesting—if a bit predictable—whether it proved the origin of the Binding or not was irrelevant. It didn’t tell me how the curse worked, or give clues to combat it, which was what I was really after. Still, there were a few tidbits that had caught my attention.
For one, both the Tale and the Gladier-Farrontine feud suggested the curse’s original pu
rpose had been different. The Binding was created to keep people in love, not force strangers to be together, which was what it had done with Ryan and me, and my sister and Lord Ozier. But that could have been creative wording on the author’s part. It still took a moment of shared feeling to trigger the magic, so technically it continued to work to its basic principle.
However, slightly more than coincidental was the fact the very same Gladiers who built the Goddess Shrines were also involved in the possible creation of the spell.
Meaning there had to be a connection to the shrines and the curse.
At once the runes flashed in my mind, and I scowled. Whoa, girl, that was a big conclusion to jump to. Yet the more I thought about it, the more it fit. Tragedy and desire were certainly ways I’d describe the curse; pain and solemn tears all the more so. Those words also related perfectly to the fall of the two noble Houses.
But why me? Surely I couldn’t be the only person in a thousand years to have noticed these things…
I buried my face in my hands. This was insane. It had to have been a dream. All my pent up frustrations about the Binding; of course I’d think up some garbled rubbish to pretend there was a way out. To feed my false hope I had a chance at escaping my fate.
Yet how could I explain my healed shoulder and ankle?
Ugh, I’d get further banging my head against a brick wall!
Screwing my eyes shut, I flopped back in the chair. Calm down, Eliza. Stressing over these mysteries would not get me closer to solving them. I’d have to count my losses. Coming here hadn’t given the solution I wanted, but that wasn’t the archive’s fault. If a way existed to reverse a Binding, it wouldn’t be locked away in a scholars’ library. It would be auctioned for ransom to the highest bidder, or circulated around a select few groups. Such powerful knowledge wouldn’t be left lying around.
