The Unblessed Dead

by Rhiannon Frater

  “What will happen to Aura?” Carrie dares to ask.

  As always, my father ignores her breach in propriety. “Nothing. It’s been done. She’s dead.”

  “By the Unblessed?” My aunt is very pale, and her hand trembles next to her plate.

  I can’t imagine what it must be like to discover all your friends and first husband’s family has been slaughtered by the Unblessed. I reach out and rest my hand on hers. She clutches it thankfully for a few seconds before releasing it.

  My father shakes his head. “No. By Cleric Fabiola. She apparently pushed her from a copter.”

  My aunt ignores Annah, our housekeeper, as she arrives at the table with a plate filled with fried eggs and bacon. “This sounds so outlandish. Can it be true? Perhaps the story is propaganda created by The Republic. You know how they hate that the necromancers are tools of the Enclave.”

  The plump housekeeper, not much older than I am, glances toward my father briefly. I have often caught her casting admiring looks at him, but he doesn’t seem to even notice her. Annah is one of the unfortunate women who didn’t find a husband at her Bridal Auction and entered into servitude to pay her way through life. Though she’s nice enough, I avoid Annah. She’s a reminder of what I could become if I fail to attract a good husband.

  “The Republic is jealous of the necromancers. That’s why they’re trying to cultivate their own. They’re just as much heretics as the monarchists in The Enclave. The Unblessed wreak havoc on their defenses on a regular basis. But that being said, it’s true. News arrived with the train this morning. Most disturbing, yet fortuitous. I received several inquiries in the postal dispatch from both The Republic and The Enclave about delivering bread and flour to both.” My father starts to eat, and I realize he’s pleased with the events. It confirms his suspicions about the necromancers, and also presents business opportunities. “I will have to speak with my foremen, and calculate the cost of expanding the bakery. It’s fortunate that Ilyse is about to have her Bridal Auction. There are several potential husbands with large farms. Crofter Beckett has announced that this is the year he will take a wife. This is very good news. The funds from the auction and the new land will greatly advance my business.”

  As I eat small bites of my heavily buttered bread, I attempt not to look as unsettled as I feel. Carrie is watching me, but my father and aunt are oblivious to my discomfort. I know my father loves me, and does care about my future, but at the moment I feel like a pastry sitting in one of his many shops scattered around the settlements in the Outland Territory.

  “What about Crofter Rivera? He’s very devout and has more land than any other farmer. He just turned thirty, so he will be looking for a wife,” my aunt says. “He’d have many strong sons with Ilyse.”

  “He’s taken a husband,” my father answers with a sigh. “Just last week. A young doctor from one of the Reclaimed Settlements. They’ve already filed to adopt an heir.”

  My aunt frowns as she serves each of us a plate of food, and passes them down the table. “Disappointing. Though the settlement can use another doctor.”

  “Crofter Becket will be a very fine husband for Ilyse. He’s a little older than most potential husbands at thirty-two, but he’s from a very good family. They’ve been devout to the Lost Texts since it was discovered.”

  “He’s so red though. Like a beet,” Carrie exclaims.

  “That’s from being in the sun,” my aunt answers.

  Crofter Beckett is a tall man with shaggy blond hair, a thick beard, and a ruddy face. I’ve seen him at Wednesday Gathering, but he never seemed to take notice of me. Of course, we aren’t allowed to talk to anyone of the opposite sex. Most couples don’t speak a word to each other until their wedding. The only men I am allowed to freely speak with are Rennon and my father. When my uncles or male cousins visit, they must only speak to the women of the family when my father is in attendance. The mere thought of being alone with any man makes me feel queasy. I can’t imagine what I would say or do. Yet, in a very short time I’m expected to be a proper wife. And if I am a necromancer, how will I ever hide that truth from my future husband? I’ll end up on trial like my mother.

  I set my fork down, unable to bite into my cooling eggs.

  “I should send word that Ilyse would make a good farmer’s wife. She’s smart, sensible, and very plain,” my father says, then sips his coffee.

  “A woman plain of face is a virtuous woman,” my aunt quotes the Lost Texts.

  My heart sinks a bit. I’d hoped to marry one of the tradesmen in the town. If I marry a farmer, I will only come into town for Wednesday Gathering, which means I’ll rarely see my family. I fidget with my fork as my father continues to discuss the advantages of me marrying Crofter Beckett. I know my father cares about me and my future, yet I’m unsettled by his obvious elation that my marriage will potentially advance his business dealings. As I listen to my father speak of a brighter future for his business, my fear of failing him threatens to choke me.

  Carrie taps my knee with her toes, and I look at her across the table. The small smile she gives me is filled with concern and love. Though I never share my misgivings about my potential future, she seems to sense my discomfort. Carrie adheres to the Lost Texts just as devoutly as I do, but she’s more open with mocking some of the tenets when she finds them restrictive. She didn’t suffer what I did after the suicide of our mother. I came under great scrutiny for weeks until I was tested and found to be without my mother’s powers.

  I am still haunted by those days and nights. I still remember the accusing glares, and the pointed questions. I remember the suspicion in my own father’s eyes until he saw me tested and I failed to exhibit the abilities of the necromancer.

  I will never forget how it felt to be lowered into the pen of the Unblessed and stand on a narrow podium just above their heads. I still have nightmares about their fingers clutching at the edges of the platform, inches from my feet, as they attempted to reach me. Their dead faces cracked, and oozed black blood as they howled for my flesh. I’d cowered just out of reach for twenty-four hours.

  In the twenty-fifth hour, the wardens lowered the podium and the clawed hands of the dead grazed my flesh. Only when I had suffered enough lacerations and blood covered the surface where I cowered, had the Elders deemed I was not a necromancer.

  I still bear the scars.

  I force myself to take another bite of my breakfast and chew to avoid suspicion. My family continues to chatter about possible husbands and future business endeavors.

  Schoolmaster Simmons and his wife had attempted to convince me that attending the Academy in The Republic was a viable option for my future despite my adherence to the Lost Texts. They argued I was too intelligent and inquisitive about the world to remain in the Atonement Settlement. An education at the Academy would open possibilities for me beyond just being a wife and mother. They were always a bit vague on what that meant, but I assumed they meant I could be a schoolmistress.

  Though the Elder and Council of Crats extoll the virtues of the Lost Texts and our laws are based on its teachings, residents aren’t forced to be strict adherents. There are rumors that in the future it will be required, but it hasn’t happened yet. At the same time, it’s not wise to push the agendas of other communities. Families have been evicted from the Atonement Settlement if they were seen as a corrupting influence. The Simmons escaped most criticism because after they took over the school the skillset of their graduates were better-quality and the new husbands were pleased.

  I have to admit I am intrigued by The Republic as much as I’m afraid of The Enclave. In The Republic freedom is highly valued and innovation is encouraged. It was founded by people who left The Enclave because of their dislike of the monarchy and Chantry. My father says The Republic is basically a bunch of outlaws pretending to have a society, but he likes their business. He also likes The Enclave’s business even though he hates their love of technology and the Chantry.

  “They’re de
generates and heretics, but they pay well,” he always says.

  I’d resisted the encouragement of the Simmons, afraid of abandoning my family and faith for a different life. But that was before the Beloved Dead started to appear in my garden and I started to fear that my mother’s powers are manifesting in me.

  As dread starts to choke me and make it difficult to swallow, I wonder if that is why my old mentor had appeared in the garden. Perhaps he was trying to warn me, and make me realize that my only hope of surviving is to leave my home. Maybe my mother rushed the observation window to urge me to flee before I suffer her fate.

  I can’t ignore the truth anymore.

  If my powers are revealed, I will be tested and face exile in the Deadlands. My only hope is to leave the Atonement Settlement.

  As I finish my bread, I make my decision.

  When I reach school, I will speak to Schoolmistress Simmons and ask her to help me like her husband once promised.

  Chapter 3

  The Stranger

  It’s a hot day and the sun pricks at my shoulders through my light cotton cape and bonnet. My father strolls in front of Carrie and me, guiding us along the narrow cobblestone lane. Stone buildings rise all around us, gray and austere. The noises of a bustling town in the early morning are vastly different from the silence of the night when we returned Schoolmaster Simmons to his resting place.

  Several workmen oil the hinges on the iron shutters of a building. Every structure in town has them as a precaution against an invasion of the Unblessed. The workmen perform this task every week, going building to building testing the shutters. The smell of oil clings to the air as we pass.

  One of the younger men looks my way. He’s tall, fair haired, and tanned from hours in the sun. He smiles and winks when he sees me glance his way. I avert my eyes from his sweaty face. Out the corner of my eye, I see his disappointment.

  His name is Bale, and he’s the brother of Prudence, my best friend. Though I’ve never spoken to him, I know of his interest in me through his sister. I don’t understand his admiration from afar, since it won’t benefit either one of us. We’re not allowed to speak to members of the opposite gender until marriage. Though I know some girls and boys break this rule, sneaking off for an illicit rendezvous, I would never dare do such a thing. To be caught means public chastisement and removal from the Bridal Auction to live your life as one of the Unclaimed if you’re a girl. If you’re a boy, you have to do hard labor for a year to atone.

  Besides, we don’t marry our contemporaries. Our elders believe that the best marriage is between an established man of an older age, and a girl just entering womanhood. At twenty, Bale has ten years to establish his name among one of the guilds, and create a home for a future bride. By the time he faces the Bridal Auction, I will either be long married with children, or far away in The Republic. I’m hoping for the latter.

  It’s obvious to me that I can’t stay here. It’s too dangerous. I don’t want to end up like my mother, but I don’t know if I have the bravery to risk scaling the wall to disappear into the Deadlands like my sister, Angelina. It’s not just the roving dead you have to worry about out there, but bandits and wild beasts.

  Maybe it’s my imagination, but as we draw close to the Perdition Sanctuary, my skin prickles into goosebumps. Am I imagining that I can sense the dead? Is this my fear lying to me?

  Carrie glances toward me, and I meet her questioning look with one of my own. Does she feel it, too? Is my sister doomed to live in fear of being a necromancer as well? Then I realize she’s looking past me at the Sanctification Altar where we laid Schoolmaster Simmons to rest – again.

  I turn my head to see two of the Brethren of the Sanctuary bent over something on the ground. My blood turns to ice. The spot where I buried my old mentor’s severed finger is now a burrow. It appears an animal dug up the amputated digit. The white robes of the Brethren ripple in the morning breeze and their bald heads glisten with perspiration. They gesticulate toward the altar while talking, and it’s not hard to guess what they’re discussing.

  Carrie nudges me. I realize I’ve stopped walking to gawk at the scene. I scurry along with my sister to catch up with our father before the Brethren notice me. I don’t want to fall under suspicion again.

  My father doesn’t realize we’re lagging behind him, much to my relief. His tall form strolls confidently through the early morning rush. People clad in their guild uniforms hurry to their various occupations. They stay on one side of the road, allowing us to pass with ease. My father is highly respected among all the various guilds, and it is wise not to displease him.

  Among the throng of workers are the Unclaimed, women who failed to attract a husband at their Bridal Auction. Those who don’t secure places in a household work in the fields and iron mine. Most are several years older than me, but I spot a few familiar faces. They’re girls I’d seen at school until they graduated. Two were found with illicit lovers, but three others were deemed unworthy of being a wife and mother. Being plain is a tenet of our faith, but I noticed that many men pick wives that are pretty. I’m bothered by the hypocrisy.

  We arrive at the Atonement School of Young Ladies, and my father stops outside the gate. The three-story stone structure rises above our heads. The pink granite school is pretty with its red-tiled roof. It’s one of the older buildings of the settlement. At one time girls and boys attended school under the same roof, but then the Council of Crats made the choice to follow the Lost Texts. Now the boys attend school on the other side of town.

  “I will come for you at the regular time. I have to pick up several packages at the train station, so you will be accompanying me,” my father says.

  “Really?” Carrie flashes her bright smile, clearly pleased.

  It’s always exciting to visit the train station. The settlement’s wealth comes from trade with the two major industrial entities, The Enclave and The Republic. It also does brisk business with other settlements that provide necessary wares. The station was built by the Enclave, so it’s opulent with thick glass walls, flashing vid screens, and a mall filled with shops. Mostly travelers shop at the stores and eat at the restaurant. Since the settlement shuns the high tech devices of the outside world, it’s regarded as a den of temptation, but people still visit to acquire rare commodities and to hear the latest news out of the Deadlands. They just make sure to sniff at its impropriety.

  “It’s a place of excess, but it won’t hurt to buy some chocolate for a special treat for my daughters,” he says, suppressing a smile at Carrie’s enthusiasm.

  I am careful not to express any excitement. I must avoid all suspicion until my plans are made.

  My father kisses each of us on the cheek, and departs for the bakery complex. I watch him go with trepidation.

  “What do you think the Brethren were looking at?” Carrie whispers to me.

  I glance at her, determining how much I should tell her. Then I make a decision. There is no point in worrying her. If I do fall under suspicion, I will claim sole responsibility for returning the schoolmaster to the Perdition Sanctuary.

  “It looked like a dog was digging around there again. It’s no big deal,” I say with what I hope is a convincing smile.

  “Oh!” Her shoulders relax. “For a moment I feared we’d left evidence behind.”

  “Don’t worry. No one saw us.”

  “I just don’t want anyone thinking we’re like mother,” she says. “Especially when you’re so close to your Bridal Auction.”

  “It’ll be okay. I promise.” I’m desperate to change the subject. “Remember what is more important, Carrie. Later, we get to eat chocolate!”

  “I know! Father must be feeling generous! The possibility of expanding his business has him so excited.”

  Of course, those future plans hinge on me marrying well. Guilt weighs heavily on my shoulders. Fear of discovery is forcing me find another path in life that will adversely affect my father’s plans. It’s hard to consider leavin
g my family and the settlement, but I’m too afraid to remain after last night’s events. I can’t live through the Necromancer Trial again. I just can’t.

  The bells in the tower chime, announcing the start of the school day. Carrie and I hurry through the gates and across the courtyard, joining the other girls gathered at the front doors. The air is filled with chatter and laughter. The younger girls reluctantly abandon skipping rope to line up. Carrie separates from me to join her friends while I hurry to Prudence’s side.

  “You look flushed,” she notices.

  “My father is going to take us to the train station after school. He’s going to get us chocolates!”

  “You’re so lucky! My father won’t let me near it. He says it might corrupt me.” She sighs dramatically.

  “I can’t imagine why your father thinks you’re corruptible,” I say teasingly.

  She giggles in response. I know all her secrets, which is a little worrying at times. But she’s my only friend at school and I’d be very lonely without her. Prudence is much livelier than I am in every regard. She is Dutiful Standing, one level below me, because she does tend to push at the edges of the rules. Sometimes she breaks them, but has yet to be caught. She’s not afraid of anything, which is why she’s my friend while all the other girls keep their distance. Honestly, I believe the fact my mother was a necromancer makes our friendship more exciting as far as she’s concerned.

  “Did you see Bale?” she asks suddenly, her dark blue eyes mischievous.

  “Yes. How did you know?”

  “He was very excited that he’d be working on your road this morning. He wanted to see you.”

  I shake my head with annoyance. “I don’t know why.”

  With an amused smile, she says, “He likes you. I keep telling you that.”

  “I don’t give him any encouragement whatsoever. I don’t even look at him. There’s no point in his interest.”