Thessalina cut her off before she could speak any further. “What the hell are you doing sneaking around at this hour, girl, and what’s that you’re carrying?” Thessalina stepped forward menacingly. She stood at least two inches taller than Jelena and possessed a warrior’s physique.
Jelena had good reason to fear her cousin. She bent down quickly and scooped the bundle back up into her arms. “It’s just dirty laundry. I’m planning to wash it myself tomorrow.”
“You’re lying, girl. Give me that!”
Before Jelena could react, Thessalina had seized the bundle and pulled it from her arms. She dropped it to the ground, then bent down and with a few jerks, untied the knot to expose the pilfered food. “What are you doing with this stuff? You stole this food, didn’t you? Answer me!” Like a lioness stalking its prey, Thessalina unfolded her long limbs into an attack stance, poised to pounce.
The air was heavy with danger, and Jelena knew that she would need to think very fast in order to avoid catastrophe. “I didn’t steal anything,” she said, sidling slowly backwards. “I’m just taking some provisions for my journey to Veii. I…I was told that it might be a good idea to have some of my own food, that’s all. Veii is a long way from Amsara.”
“Huh! It’s not that far. D’you really think that Duke Sebastianus isn’t going to feed you? He paid good money for you, didn’t he? Though the gods only know why he’d want a tink like you.” Jelena could feel her cheeks burning with anger and humiliation. She was thankful for the cover of darkness, for it hid her eyes from her cousin. If Thessalina could have seen the hate that smoldered there, she would have beaten Jelena for sure. She clenched her hands into fists and prayed that the blue fire would continue to remain dormant. If Thessalina were to discover that she possessed magical abilities…
Thessalina prodded the half-opened bundle with one boot tip. Even in the dim starlight, Jelena could see the ugly expression of contempt twisting the other woman’s face. “I still don’t believe you, but I’m too tired to deal with it right now,” she said. “You’d better get to your room, and stay there until morning. If I catch you sneaking around here again tonight, I’ll beat you senseless, and I promise you won’t have my silly brother to come to your rescue.”
Jelena’s body shook with helpless anger as she bent down to gather up the food and re-tie the apron corners securely. Thessalina turned and pushed open the heavy keep door. The flickering firelight from the hearth within briefly limned Thessalina’s form with a red glow, turning her shape into something demonic. As the door swung shut on her cousin, Jelena lifted her finger in an obscene gesture, knowing that she crouched just out of range of the slice of light spilling from the doorway, and thus was shielded from any consequences of her small act of defiance.
For as long as Jelena could remember, Thessalina’s animosity towards her had been consistent and unrelenting, and because of her lowly status, there had been little she could do to deflect it or protect herself from it. As she started off again towards the servants’ quarters, the food bundle hugged tight against her breasts, she swore that tonight would be the last time she would stand and take any kind of abuse from anyone.
If I can’t find my father, or if I do and he doesn’t want me, I’ll go off and find a cave somewhere and live alone. I don’t care, just as long as I can choose how to run my own life.
I’m done being a slave!
Chapter 8
Escape And Awakening
There was not much to pack. She had very few possessions—the ivory combs that had been her mother’s, her father’s ring, a small bone-handled knife, a finely made leather pouch that had been a gift from Magnes. Almost all of her meager wardrobe would be left behind, for Jelena fled Amsara this night disguised as a boy. Magnes had provided the tunic, jerkin, leggings, and boots. He’d also found her an old leather cap that she could wear, but only if she sheared off much of her mane beforehand.
Claudia sat on the edge of her bed, watching Jelena and weeping silently as the snick snick of the shears filled the little room with the sound of finality, of the inevitability of separation and loss.
Jelena clipped one last lock, then laid aside the shears and brushed the loose hair from her head. Critically, she examined her raggedly cropped coils in the tiny piece of mirror. She swallowed hard as the reflection of a stranger stared back at her, a young woman with almond-shaped eyes, high cheekbones, and bluntly pointed ears. She felt like she was seeing herself—not looking at, but truly seeing—for the first time.
Will I look like an elf to my father’s people, or a human,she wondered, or will they look at me like almost everyone at Amsara does, with contempt because I am neither?
“All o’ yer beautiful hair, all over the floor!” Claudia sobbed, wringing her hands in grief.
Jelena smiled gently. “You have complained my whole life about how difficult my hair is to deal with. Well, now it’ll be much easier. See?” She pulled the cap over her head with a small flourish. “How do I look?”
“Like my baby who’s about to leave me forever,” Claudia replied tearfully. Jelena sat beside her foster mother and allowed Claudia to enfold her against the ample cushion of her bosom. Neither of them spoke for many moments. There was just too much to say, and yet nothing to be said. Both of them knew that this was the way things had to be.
Finally, Claudia pushed Jelena away and dried her eyes on the sleeve of her chemise. “You’d better get goin’. Yer cousin’s waitin’ on ye.”
Jelena nodded silently, and rose to gather up her things.
“Oh! I’d plumb fergot!” Claudia exclaimed. She reached into a fold of her apron and drew out the strand of blue Kara glass beads that Jelena had worn to the ill-fated Sansa feast. She pressed the necklace into Jelena’s hands.
“Heartmother, I couldn’t possibly…These were a gift to you from the duchess!” Jelena protested.
She tried to return the necklace, but Claudia’s hands fluttered away like fat, featherless birds. “No, no, child. I want you t’ have ‘em. Besides, what’s an old woman like me goin’ t’do with such things, eh?”
“I’ll treasure them, always,” Jelena whispered, her voice hoarse with tears. She tucked the necklace into her bag where it settled down amongst the few other small things that she could call her own.
Claudia went to the door and held it open.
“I love you,” Jelena said.
“I love you, too, child. Be happy.”
Jelena exited swiftly, not daring to look back, afraid that if she did, she would be unable to leave. The sound of the door shutting behind her seemed to boom and echo within the narrow confines of the stairwell, more like a great stone crashing into place, instead of a humble wood door closing on a small room in which an old woman sat alone, crying for her lost child.
Jelena’s heart was breaking as she made for the kitchen garden, half blinded by her own tears. When she reached its fragrant confines, redolent of rosemary, thyme, and jasmine, she dropped the bundled apron and leaned, weak-kneed, against the outer kitchen wall and gave free rein to her grief.
Magnes found her there, sobbing inconsolably beneath the stars that glittered like cold ice embedded in darkest velvet. “I don’t know why I feel so…so horrible!” she cried. “I should be delirious with happiness because I’m finally getting out of this awful place, but I’m not!” She buried her face in her cousin’s shoulder.
“You have ample reason to grieve, Jelena. You are leaving behind the woman who raised you, who loved you and called you ‘daughter,’ and you may never lay eyes upon her again. Of course you should be sad. We are about to walk a road that is completely unknown to us, but whatever lies ahead, whether it be good or ill, we’ll face it together.” Magnes slipped his hand under Jelena’s chin and tilted her face upwards. “Courage, Cousin. We’d better get going. The night’s a’wasting, and we need to be well away before sun up.”
Jelena glanced up at the sky. “There’s someone else I need to say goodbye to before
I leave, Cousin,” she murmured. She turned away from the garden and set out back across the castle grounds toward the keep. Wordlessly, Magnes followed, a comforting presence at her back. She knew that he understood.
The Preseren family crypt—Jelena’s destination—lay beneath the high altar of the castle chapel. The two cousins padded silently past the slumbering keep and entered the chapel through a side door set within its southern wall. Quickly, they slipped down the central aisle, past the large wooden altar carved with painted images of gods and saints, to the stairwell at the back that led down into the subterranean vaults. Magnes paused to grab a candle from the altar before leading the way into the crypt.
The air below ground was cool and still. The little flame from the candle cast a feeble glow, but Jelena would have known the way even in total darkness. She had been here often enough before. With unerring steps, she made her way to the very back of the crypt and paused before a plain stone sarcophagus. She knelt and laid her palms flat atop the chilly granite. “Mother,” she whispered, “I’ve come to say goodbye.”
Unlike the other caskets, which were fashioned of marble and crowned with detailed effigies of the occupant as he or she had appeared in life, this tomb was stark in its simplicity. No fine effigy adorned its top, only a plain stone lid that bore the inscription:
Here lies Drucilla, daughter of Teomartus and Lucinda of the House of Preseren.
“They put my mother at the very back, away from all of her kin. She was an outcast, even in death, all because she dared to love a man who wasn’t human.” Jelena began to weep. “Why are people so cruel, Magnes?”
Magnes knelt beside her and slipped his free arm around her shoulder. “Some people are cruel because they are weak and afraid, Cousin.” He kissed her lightly on the forehead. “But not all people are cruel. Claudia and I both love you.”
“Neither one of us had the chance to know our mothers, Magnes, but at least you have some memories of yours. I have nothing but stories and this cold box.” Jelena paused to wipe her eyes, then bent over and pressed her lips to the stone. “I love you, Mother,” she murmured. “Even though you’re not here, I still feel your love for me. I’m going to find my father…I’m going to find your Zin, and when I do, I’ll tell him just what you sacrificed in order to give me life.” She looked up at Magnes, and even in the dim light of the single candle, she could see his eyes shining with tears.
“I know that running is my only choice, and I would have gone without you, but I’m very glad you’re coming with me, Magnes. I know that sounds selfish, considering what you are giving up, but it’s how I feel.” She felt her melancholy begin to lift. Magnes’s calm, steady strength would be a great comfort to her in the days to come, and for that alone, she was very grateful.
“We’d better go now, Jelena,” Magnes urged softly. She nodded, and with a last kiss upon the casket lid, she rose and followed her cousin up and out of the crypt, leaving her mother and all her ancestors behind to sleep the cold slumber of the dead.
~~~
As promised, Magnes had brought the packs and equipment they needed. They took a few moments to divide the food Jelena had filched and to settle the packs and weapons on their bodies. With everything in place, Magnes led the way back to where the castle wall ran behind the kitchen garden. There, they paused to listen. The night hummed with the myriad little noises that fill a green, growing place in spring. Crickets chirped merrily in the trees, and mice rustled in the wild grapevines. High up in the branches of a fruitless plum tree, a nightingale warbled.
Magnes dug around in the pouch at his belt and drew forth a small object. It was too dark for Jelena to see what he now held in his hand, but she guessed it to be the key to the long-unused door. He stepped forward and pulled aside the thick covering of vines to reveal a small, iron-bound portal.
“I oiled the lock a few days ago,” Magnes whispered. The key turned with a soft click, and Magnes gave the door a shove. It swung open with a metallic groan that sounded as loud as thunder.
“Damn it,” Magnes muttered. “I forgot the hinges!”
They held their breaths and waited. After a few moments, when she heard no cry raised, Jelena dared to breathe again.
Magnes pulled her close and whispered in her ear. “There’s a very steep, slippery drop down into a ravine just the other side of this door. Be careful, it’s treacherous. I’ll go first. Don’t start down until I do. I’ve got to close the door behind us.” He turned, ducked through the dark hole, and disappeared. Jelena took a deep breath and followed.
She found herself standing on a narrow ledge at the top of a slope that plunged near vertically into the darkness. She had always known about the natural defenses at the rear of Amsara Castle, but she had never dreamed that, one day, her path to freedom would lead down this perilous route.
Magnes pushed the heavy door shut and stowed the key away in his pouch. “There’s no way to lock it behind us, it seems. Good thing Amsara can’t be approached from this direction.”
“Let’s just hope no one comes along and finds the door from the inside,” Jelena replied nervously.
“We’ll be long gone by then. Ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Jelena hitched her pack up a little higher on her shoulders and adjusted the long knife at her belt. The bow and arrows she had strapped on top of the pack, so they were not readily accessible, but then she planned to use them only for hunting.
They started picking their way carefully down the slope, Magnes in the lead. The surface consisted of a constantly shifting sea of loose soil and small, sharp rocks. Each step sent a new shower of debris rattling down the slope into the pitch black of the ravine. In a matter of moments, Jelena was sweating and breathing hard. It took tremendous effort to stay upright and to keep herself from sliding down to certain injury and the end to any hope of escape. Below, she could hear the sound of water trickling over stones.
After what seemed like hours, they finally reached the bottom of the ravine where they paused briefly to rest.
“Ugh!” Jelena exclaimed. “By the smell down here, I’m guessing this must be the drainage from the castle’s sewers.”
“All the more reason to get moving,” Magnes replied. “C’mon.”
They began walking.
Eventually, the ravine spread itself out into the surrounding landscape. Jelena could not tell how far they had come, or in which direction they were heading, but she trusted Magnes’s navigational skills. He seemed to know exactly where to go. “Are we headed west, Magnes?” she asked, pushing herself a little to keep up with her cousin’s longer, ground-eating stride.
“West and north. I reckon we’ll be across the border in three days’ time,” he replied. He noticed Jelena’s struggle to match his gait and slowed down to accommodate her. “We should reach the north-south road soon. I want to follow it until dawn and then look for a place to camp.”
Jelena looked back over her shoulder but could see nothing in the darkness, which was just as well. Her life at Amsara Castle truly lay behind her now. She would look forward, only forward, to the new possibilities that awaited her. She would shed her old identity, like a snake sheds its skin, and become a new person. No longer would she be Jelena the bastard. She would be Jelena the free woman, free to make of her life what she willed.
~~~
Far to the north, in a land that for millennia had lain cloaked in perpetual winter, deep beneath a mountain on whose summit crouched the remains of a mighty fortress, somethingbegan to stir.
For over a thousand years, it had remained dormant, its energy dampened by powerful magical wards put in place at the time of its defeat and imprisonment. But time and neglect had steadily weakened the very structure of the arcane energy that had sustained the wards, allowing the thing slumbering in the freezing darkness to slowly awaken.
For a very, very long time, it simply was. No coherent thoughts disturbed the dark, still pool of its consciousness. It floated, disembod
ied, a being of pure energy, existing in a place where no light, no sound, no sensation could penetrate.
Then, with sudden, convulsive force, the very fabric of the universe ripped open, and something pushed through. The being that had been asleep for so long now roused, fully conscious, responding to the familiar energy signature of the magic it had itself created so long ago.
With full awareness came memory and rage, but the spirit was too weak yet to wrestle free of the magical chains that kept it bound in the cold and darkness. It struggled anyway, fueled by its towering fury, but soon gave up in defeat, accepting that, for now, it would remain a prisoner.
The struggle against its bonds had not been a complete failure, however. The spirit did discover the creeping weakness that slowly degraded the integrity of the magic; it was only a matter of time before the wards could be broken and it would be free. In the meantime, it would practice the art of patience, but that did not preclude making use of what tools it could.
Through experimentation, it found that it could extend its consciousness outward, beyond the tons of ice and rock that imprisoned what remained of its physical essence. Even in such an inhospitable wilderness as the high mountains, many creatures, both furred and feathered, managed to eke out a precarious existence. The spirit found the simple minds of these creatures easy to commandeer. They made useful tools, serving as living connections to the outside world. However, the force of its essence drained the creatures of their vital energy, killing them after a time. No matter. There were enough to meet its needs.
It began to search.
Across the frozen desolation of the high mountains and down into the vast forests that lay at their feet, it ranged, merging first with a swift-footed fox, then a snowshoe hare, a sleek black raven and a gray wolf, silent as the shadows. The ravens proved to be the most useful. Their keen eyes saw much; their powers of flight allowed the spirit-being to range over much greater distances—but they tended to die quickly. The wolves, eagles, and big cats lived longer, but they could not get as close to farmsteads and villages without attracting unwanted attention.
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