I realized then that Ren was no longer still. He was gently moving his arms inward and had begun to inch ever so slowly closer to the wall of fire before him. As I watched his careful creep, I noticed that the ground he stood upon was black, charred by flames. It occurred to me in a sudden flash that he was attempting to corral the blaze. He repeated the gentle motion sweeping his arms out to his sides and bringing them in to the center stopping short of joining his hands and crept forward.
After the first few feet receded it appeared that the blaze was retreating at an increasingly rapid rate. Within minutes, I could see the entire perimeter, which shrunk at an equal rate from every point, resulting in an orb of fire.
With the fire a safer distance from the woods, I became aware of the chorus of rustling and cracking in the dark at my back. Hesitantly turning to locate the origin of the sound, I found an array of glassy eyes reflecting the orange light of the fire, their keepers safely guarded by tree limbs and shadows. Careful not to draw attention to my presence, I edged away from the tree line in pursuit of Ren.
By the time I reached him, the fiery orb was no larger than a boulder on the beach and shrinking fast. Ren was standing at full height, easily pushing the flame into submission. As it shrunk to the size of a candle, Ren stooped carefully and reached for the benign ball of light.
“Here we are.” He said quietly and extended his hand toward me.
His fingers retracted revealing the flame like a firefly on his palm. I blinked at the little light too shocked to form the words of apology that could only begin to describe my regret.
“Should we keep it?” Ren asked earnestly frowning at the light flickering in his hand.
I wrinkled my nose and shook my head. If I never saw that fire again it would be too soon.
He slammed his fingers over the tiny flame and brought his fist to his lips. With a puff into the cavern of his fist, the flame vanished. A wry grin appeared on his lips.
“Could have happened to anyone.” He said and lightly patted my shoulder. Turning from me, he scanned the forest edge before walking casually in that direction.
I sighed with relief, gratitude, and a new deeper sense of embarrassment for my clumsy mistake. For a moment I considered staying in the field and making my way home in the morning light. The thought of crawling back into Ren’s car and enduring the silent drive home seemed too much to bear. But a brisk wind whipped over the cliff carrying the scent of scorched earth and it caused me to reconsider wallowing on the seared field until sunrise. Shamefaced, I plodded in Ren’s footsteps. Odd noises bobbed in his wake. As we neared the tree line, Ren slowed.
Too uncomfortable to instigate conversation, I hung a few feet behind him, waiting for him to make a move. He made soft, shushing noises and motioned for me to join him. Intrigued, I crept to his side.
“I’m telling them that all is well and they should go about their business.” He whispered.
Dulled from the stress of the evening events my mind was slow to process his meaning.
“Who? Oh! The animals?” I asked.
“Sounds as if a mass stampede was about to ensue.” He said softly, his eyes focused on the trees.
My ears pricked with alarm.
“Over the cliff? Wow, that would have been really bad. Not that it wasn’t bad enough.” I stammered.
“Oh no, not this direction, away from the fire, of course. They’re not suicidal.” He said and laughed.
“That should do.” He said mostly to himself with a final sweep of the dark.
Turning his attention to me, Ren reached for my arm and urged me back to the field.
“We should wait until the path has cleared.”
I nodded absently following him back onto the charred ground. Reaching a suitable distance from the forest, Ren flopped to the earth and groaned with exhaustion. I sank to the ground next to him and sat stiffly with my knees pulled to my chest.
After a few moments of silence, I couldn’t contain myself any longer.
“Ren…I … I’m so sorry. Really, that was stupid. I can’t believe that happened.” I said meekly.
By now, the moon had taken a more commanding position in the sky. The deep blue of its canvas had turned a fathomless black. A harsh wind from the sea bit my cheeks and chilled my bones as it whipped around my face and penetrated my clothes.
Ren sighed again expelling what sounded like frustration.
“Eliza, I said it could happen to anyone and I meant it. Stop murdering yourself about it, will you? I’m so tired.” He moaned and let himself fall backward laying his head on his outstretched arms.
I hugged my knees tighter, still reeling from the fear and panic of the evening and unwilling to forgive myself. The cold wind froze the small tears that gathered in the corners of my eyes.
Ren tugged lightly on my coat sleeve.
“Why don’t you lay back a moment and look at the stars with me? We need to leave soon.” His plea tinged with disappointment.
Reluctantly, I lowered myself to the ground, the freshly singed grass crunched below my head. A smoky musk wafted up to my nose but the wind quickly whisked it away. Ren lay comfortingly close without touching me. I detected his even breathing beneath the muffled din of the gusting sea wind.
The moon had grown large and distinct enough to see the grey patina of its surface with the naked eye. I squinted my eyes focusing on the imperfections, like grains embedded in marble.
The fire was an accident and no one was hurt, I reminded myself. Really, it had just been the perfect ending to a day pocked with mistakes. I closed my eyes against the radiance of the moon and its minions. Mistakes were to be expected, I thought, and clutched the book at my side. The ground beneath me had grown cold and I shivered.
Ren’s arm dropped to my side. His fingers ran down my sleeve and found my hand, gently encasing it. I struggled to swallow the lump that caught in my throat. He made no attempt at conversation but squeezed my hand. I forgot the cold, my attention absorbed by the warm fingers wrapped around mine.
“Well, I think it’s safe to walk the path now. We better get going before we freeze to death.” He said still firmly clasping my hand. He rolled to his side and pulled me to my feet.
10
I climbed the stairs with effort, my feet plodding ahead as if strapped to bricks. The hollow echo of my footsteps in the stairwell aggravated my nerves. My palms sweated and slipped against the binding of the primer in my hand. Glancing at my watch I noticed it was only eleven o’clock, though it felt much later. As I climbed and considered Ren’s words of warning, I fought with the idea of delaying my studies until the next day. Was I ready? Would I ever be? Did it matter? From the moment the book slipped into my possession, I sensed the wheels of something greater had begun to creak.
The subtle pulse of the book vibrated against my fingers causing my skin to itch. I slipped my bag around my shoulder and dropped the book inside before retrieving the house key.
With a bit more effort than usual, I freed the lock and stepped into the dark loft. The soft whir of heated air ran through the large exposed pipes along the ceiling and walls. I crossed the room to the couch and pulled the cord of a ceramic lamp. Yellow light pooled across the floor in a blurred circle below the shade warming the cavernous room. I sank into the couch letting my head fall back against the cushions and closed my eyes.
The room was still and silent aside from the general creaks and groans behind the walls that all buildings emit when everything else is quiet. I made up my mind. Jane would be home in an hour and I intended to be safely in bed before she arrived.
I scanned the room calmly, inspecting each dim corner before carefully opening the bag at my side. The book sat idle at the bottom of it. I reached into the bag and carefully removed the book with trembling hands.
“Alright, I guess we should get about it.” I muttered under my breath before summoning the courage to lift the cover.
The old binding creaked and a soft sigh drifted th
rough the room. My spine stiffened. I searched the room fearfully for an intruder but it was once again still and silent. I glared into the dim corners but became distracted as the pulse of the book quickened, vibrating against the tops of my thighs. Then the pages began to flutter first forward then in reverse, finally resting on a page toward the beginning. I focused uneasily on the script before me.
Chapter One: The Discipline of Mind Manipulation
The paper of the book was a mottled creamy parchment, its quality organic in nature an appropriate match to the handcrafted leather cover. The elegant script stretched across the page in neat, precise rows though it could only have been produced by hand and quill. The letters inscribed in deep maroon ink sharply contrasted with the ivory parchment. The overall effect reminded me of dried blood on fabric. Considering the age and unknown origin of the book, I shuddered at the thought of what materials had been used in its production.
The dense script spread down the page seemingly devoid of all parenthetical and grammatical rules. At first glance, the words appeared to stream for lines on end, capitalizations popping up at odd intervals free of punctuation and paragraph division. After deciphering the first line, I stared at the page in contemplating its meaning.
what lies Behind the eyes commands the hands, the Heart guards the key, an unwise tongue may be silenced forever
Without warning, a curtain of deep blue dropped before my eyes. At once, I felt the sensation of free falling into oblivion. The couch, the floor, the book in my hands disappeared replaced by a strong rush of wind forcing my arms above my head and pushing me up, though my stomach confirmed I was falling down. My hair whipped around my face lashing my eyes and cheeks. My body hurled wildly through space. I opened my mouth to scream but only heard the deafening whoosh of air rushing passed me.
With a heavy thud I landed on a hard flat surface. My body slammed to the ground as if I had been shoved out a third floor window. Gasping for air, hazy dark circles hung in my eyes obscuring my line of sight.
“Up wench, no time for wallowing.’” A brusque voice shouted in my ear. The language intonations were clearly English but coarse, entirely unlike Ren’s graceful diction.
The pain radiating up my arms dulled and beneath my hands I felt a cool slimy surface. Dank air laced with the scent of hay and filthy human accosted my nose. A set of worn leather boots came into view before my face. I scuttled backward putting distance between my face and the tips of the boots. Rough hands gripped my arms and yanked me from the ground nearly ripping my shoulders out of their sockets. Distant cries and an unpleasant metal clanging rang in my ears.
“That’s right, no use struggling.” The rough voice said.
Adrenaline shot through my system, my mind raced. Where was I?
Callused palms wrenched my hands behind my back. Cold metal squeezed my wrists. Shackles? I desperately scanned the room for clues. The room appeared to be a small rectangle roughly ten feet long, possibly fifteen deep. Large gray stones unevenly cut but flush, lined the floor and walls. Flat gray light filtered in through a narrow window near the ceiling on one of the walls. A small portal sealed with a crude wooden door stood on the opposite wall with a thick metal ring for a doorknob. Moisture seeped from the walls forming slimy green rivulets draining to the floor. Dirt laden hay was strewn across the grimy floor.
“Aye, that should hold ye. Filthy witch.” The voice muttered as my unpleasant captor stepped from behind me and came into view.
Frozen by surprise and disgust I stared at the man in my presence. He wore a ragged shirt and pants made of a fabric akin to burlap. The poorly fitting pants were secured to his waist with a tattered rope. His boots, misshapen and worn looked elegant compared to the rest of his attire. A stringy mess of dark greasy hair hung to his shoulders. His face and hands were covered in a layer of grime, dirt jammed beneath unkempt nails and smudged across his cheeks and forehead.
As he moved, his pungent stench wafted up my nose triggering my gag reflex. I heaved violently forward but was jerked upright by the chains on my wrists. I gagged and vomited onto the stone at my feet.
The man cackled. “Pretty one aren’t ye now?”
His wolfish eyes traveled across my face and along the length of my body. A lewd sneer crossed his face revealing an incomplete set of scummy yellow teeth. He lifted a grubby hand to his face and rubbed his nose before scratching himself inappropriately. Then snapped his rotten mandibles like a rabid dog and turned to leave slamming the thick wooden door behind him.
Coughing and choking on the foul air, I instinctually struggled against the chains sucking my wrists like the tentacles of a sea monster. It was the slicing pain of the shackles that finally commanded me to the present. Small streams of blood slid down my forearms. I gazed upward squinting in the dim light to find thin red lacerations at the edge of the metal bracelets. I’ve got to get a hold of myself, I fumed.
Tears of rage welled in the corners of my eyes and before long, steaming tears dampened the sides of my face. How could Ren do this to me? Fury brewed in the pit of my stomach. No wonder he told me not to worry about studying. I would learn or I would die.
My present setting shed light on the origin of my primer. Not quite ancient but considering what I knew from history class about Medieval forms of punishment I might have been better off in countless other spaces in history. Furious again, I stamped my feet hard against the stone floor. The pounding sent painful vibrations up my legs.
Regaining control of myself, I sucked a breath of dank air deep into my lungs. Despair was not an option. Instead I forced myself to review the facts at hand.
The man had called me a witch, which would have been a crime in those days. I reasoned that I must have been captive as a prisoner charged with the crime of witchcraft.
The lesson was The Discipline of Mind Manipulation. I had successfully performed it once before and convinced Jane to forget but convincing my foul captor to let me go would certainly be a challenge. Panic throbbed in my chest as I considered whether I would be able to execute such a feat.
A small rustling sound in the shadows beneath the slit of a window disrupted my thoughts. I turned toward the noise and stared defensively at the dark wall. To my surprise, a small dirty foot stepped into the light on the stone floor. A gasp escaped my mouth and it disappeared again into the shadows.
“No, don’t go. I’m sorry… You just surprised me. Please don’t be afraid.” I begged of the small foot.
In response, the little foot reappeared followed tentatively by a second little foot.
“It’s quite dark in here and I can’t see anything but your feet. Are you able to come closer?” I requested carefully of the little pair of feet.
“Yes ma’am.” A child’s voice responded. The boy stepped out from the dark and shuffled slowly toward me. His eyes cast to the ground.
The boy’s tiny stature suggested that he could not be older than six or seven years old. He wore tattered pants that ended in ragged hems just below his knees. A dirty blouse that looked to be several sizes too large hung loosely on his slight frame. His shiny disheveled hair reached just below his chin. The small boy’s uncared for appearance invoked pity and a strong sense of protectiveness in my heart.
“Hello.” I tried my best to sound comforting.
“My name is Eliza. What’s your name?” I wished I could kneel closer to his level in order to better meet his eyes.
The boy’s face remained angled toward the floor but I could see that he was trying to peek at me without lifting it.
“My name is Benjamin.” He mumbled shyly, a small smile lit his face like a candle.
“Hello Benjamin. It’s nice to meet you. This place is scary. I’m glad that I’m not alone in here.” I said softly working hard not to frighten him. He was not shackled but his spindly limbs and swollen belly protruding beneath the ill-fitting blouse indicated he had been poorly treated.
“It’s nice to meet you too, Eliza.” His face rose to mee
t my gaze and the smile spread. He stood awkwardly rubbing his bare toes against each other. His fingers fidgeted nervously at his sides.
Aghast at the idea of imprisoning a small child I suddenly wondered who else might be lying in the shadows of the cell.
“Benjamin, were you alone in here, before I arrived?” I asked nervously.
The smile fled his face and his eyes fell to the floor.
“Yes, my brother was here but he’s been gone for a long time.” His high voice caught in his throat as he spoke. When he didn’t raise his face, I realized he was quietly crying.
“Oh Benjamin, I’m sorry to hear that.” Not wanting to upset him further by probing into the circumstances of his brother’s departure I decided to change the subject.
“Why were you put here?” I asked cautiously.
Benjamin’s narrow shoulders heaved before he sniffled and wiped his eyes.
“I’m a thief, ma’am.” He said. His head tilted to one side as he hesitantly peered at my face.
Thief? Well, that sounded like a strong crime for a small child, I thought. Then considering the brutal time period, I accepted his confession.
“What did you steal?” I asked. By the looks of him, I had an inkling of what he might say.
Weak as he was, Benjamin sank to the ground and sat cross-legged before me.
“Bread. My mum passed and we had eaten all that was left. My brother and I snuck into the Lord’s kitchen and stole it away!” He said with a bit of excitement. It must have seemed like a clever game to him at the time.
“We ate the bread behind our cottage before anyone found us but still, we were caught.” He hung his head again and from the sound of his voice, I wondered if he might cry again.
It was heartbreaking to imagine two children left on their own to starve. Tears welled in my eyes as I absorbed the image of little Benjamin on the floor at my feet.
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