The Unblessed Dead

by Rhiannon Frater

  We need to stop this! We need to do something!

  I’m not sure who I’m calling out to, but it’s my aunt who answers.

  I love you, Ilyse. I love Carrie. I’m doing this for you both. Remember that.

  I twist around just as my aunt lets out a scream that sends chills through my body. I feel her power lash out and draw the attention of the Unblessed before she drags it back into her body.

  “Leave her alone! Take me!” my aunt shouts.

  “No!” My voice blends with my father’s.

  My aunt has already released herself from the harness and she easily climbs over the railing. The Unblessed surge toward her tower. Only a few remain at Carrie’s. For a moment I think my aunt intends to distract the Unblessed by dangling from her higher tower, but then she lets go and plunges into the horde of undead.

  I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I stare at where the Unblessed swarm. The reek of blood and offal draw the others from below my tower and Carrie’s. The bodies of the dead crowd each other, fighting to get to the woman who sacrificed herself.

  Forcing myself to look away, I see my sister being pulled to safety by my father. He carries her along the gangway to the catwalk. I see her mouth open in a scream, but I can only hear my own cries.

  “Leticia Nott and Carrie Nott are innocent,” Elder Alvus announces, his voice carrying over the feeding frenzy below. “Ilyse Nott will continue the test.”

  Everything blurs. I’m aware of my father protesting. I’m aware of my sister screaming my name. I hear Quade coming to my defense. But I cannot stop staring at the spot where my aunt vanished into the crowd of the Unblessed.

  My father and sister are forced from the testing room. Quade remains but I don’t listen to him anymore. I sit on the platform, curl up like a pill bug, and cover my ears with my hands. My dress is wet and clings to my legs and I realize my bladder released without me realizing it. Sobbing, I try to blot out the world and not exist until this over.

  I close my eyes.

  I stand among the Unblessed. I can see myself cowering on the platform. I am prey. They want me and I feel it. Their feast done, they gather at the base of the tower, pulling me along with them. I’m not afraid when I’m outside my body and among them. I feel strangely safe even as I watch them rocking the tower.

  I’m not surprised when Quade appears beside me. He doesn’t say anything and I appreciate his respect for the moment. His presence offers comfort, but it’s not enough.

  Can you hold me, I ask.

  Without a word, he wraps his arms around me and I rest my head against his chest. It doesn’t feel quite real. More like a whisper of a touch, but it’s enough.

  I’m not alone.

  I’m here for you, Ilyse.

  I remain disengaged from my body until the gangway lowers and I’m declared innocent. When I open my eyes, I see Quade watching from his witness bench. The wardens escort me along the catwalk past him and he falls in behind me.

  When the doors open to the Courtyard of the Accused, I’m not surprised to see my father waiting for me. He takes a step toward me, his arms opening to receive me. I ignore him, and walk past him.

  I’m not ready to forgive.

  I now understand exactly why Angelina went over the wall.

  And I will follow her.

  Chapter 14

  Aftermath

  I refuse to talk to my father during our walk home. We are nearly home when I realized he probably didn’t notice my deliberate silence. He never reveals his emotions and he dislikes talking about upsetting situations. My aunt is dead and instead of comforting us, he’ll most likely close himself.

  So it’s no surprise that when we enter the house my father silently walks into his study and shuts the door behind him.

  I want to scream at him but I’m too tired and numb.

  The household is already in mourning. The windows are draped in black blocking out the sunlight. The gloomy interior of the house makes me feel even more morose.

  I seek out Carrie and Rennon. Their beds aren’t slept in, and for a moment, I start to panic. I still remember waking to find Angelina’s bed empty all those years ago. I rush through the house frantically searching for them. If anything happens to them, I won’t be able to endure it.

  In my aunt and father’s bedroom, I find them. My sister is asleep in the bed with Rennon in her arms. They look surprisingly peaceful even though their eyelids are red and swollen. Their sweet faces are stained with salt from weeping. I stare at my sister and cousin through a haze of unshed tears.

  At least they are safe.

  I touch my aunt’s robe hanging from a hook near the door. The loss of her fills me so completely I am drowning in grief and anger.

  Finally, I turn away to walk down the hallway to my room. I gather fresh underthings and a nightgown. My body aches from the long night on the tower. The muscles in my shoulders and lower back are cramped and painful. I feel sluggish from physical exhaustion and emotionally devastated. I need to clean myself before I collapse.

  In the bathroom, I break the rules and fill the bathtub. I don’t rush through my morning routine for time no longer has meaning. I won’t be sitting down to breakfast with my family or walking to school. I sit in the tepid water until my fingers are pruned and Annah knocks on the door to make certain I’m all right.

  “I’m fine,” I lie.

  When I finish pulling on my nightgown and braiding my hair, I return to where my sister and cousin are sleeping. I climb onto the large bed beside Rennon so he’s between me and Carrie. I scoot under the covers and make certain they’re both tucked in properly. As I lay my head on the pillow, I smell my aunt’s lavender perfume. I’m shattered by the memory of her death. I’m convinced I won’t sleep but slumber immediately drags me under.

  I dream of the Necromancer Trial.

  I struggle to awaken, determined not to witness my aunt’s death again, but I’m held captive in the dream world. As the Unblessed fill the corral, a figure in a hood walks among them. I strain to see the face obscured in shadows, but it remains hidden. The hooded figure stands beneath my tower and motions for me to climb down.

  I can’t! They’ll know what I am! I cry out.

  The figure continues to motion to me, but I shake my head.

  Agitated by my reluctance, the figure points the Unblessed toward my tower. They swarm around it, pushing against it, attempting to topple it. I cling to the railing, screaming for someone to help me. The tower groans beneath the assault and tips over, crashing onto the catwalk. The Unblessed swarm up the fallen structure toward me. I struggle to free myself from the harness with desperate fingers, but it’s too late.

  The Unblessed don’t want to devour me. Instead, they climb onto the catwalk and rush toward the terrified wardens. They fill the narrow walkway, howling for blood and flesh. A warden, in a panic, opens the door to the Courtyard of the Accused in an attempt to escape. The Unblessed follow after him, and push through to the outside world. I watch in terror, realizing the settlement has been breached.

  No! No! Come back! I cry out.

  A sharp tug on my shoulder pulls me about to face the hooded figure now crouching beside me. Absolute darkness fills the hood. Terror seizes me whole as the necromancer releases me from the harness, and points toward the Unblessed.

  Stop them, or everyone dies, they say.

  The necromancer’s voice sounds like a harsh whisper.

  I can’t! I can’t! They’ll know! I cry out.

  Then everyone dies.

  I awaken abruptly to voices murmuring deep in the house. Rennon and Carrie are gone. A black dress, a pair of my best slippers, and a mourning bonnet are arranged on the chest at the end of the bed waiting for me. I climb from the bed, my body leaden with despair and pain, and draw back the curtain covering the window to peer up at the sky. It’s late afternoon.

  Dressing slowly, I know what’s expected of me, but an unusual streak of rebelliousness fills me. I consider climbin
g out the window and going to Quade’s house near the cemetery. I find comfort in his presence and I want him to hold me again.

  The thought of his real arms around me, not phantom ones, heats up my cheeks. Though Quade and I hardly know each other, there is an undeniable connection between us. Maybe it’s born out of our necromancy, but it feels like the beginnings of something more. I’m not even sure how to classify what I feel. How Quade makes me feel is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. All I know is that I want to see him again and soon.

  I could easily slip out the window.

  Thoughts of Rennon and Carrie stop me.

  They need me now.

  I can’t risk any infractions. More than my Pious Standing is at risk. My very life is in the balance.

  Once I look like a proper young lady in mourning, I leave the bedroom and walk down the hallway to the dining room. The table is laden with covered dishes of food. Annah has arranged the offerings from our neighbors into a buffet for the mourners. I lift one lid to see stew inside. My stomach growls with hunger. Instead of serving myself the hot meat and vegetable dish, I pluck a biscuit from a tray. I nibble on the edge of it, testing my stomach, for I feel a bit queasy after smelling the food.

  Annah appears from the kitchen completely clad in black from her dress, to her apron, to her bonnet. “You’re awake at last. Your father will be relieved.”

  I don’t reply. I’m not even certain what to say in regard to my father. He betrayed my mother. I don’t know how to forgive him for her death and Angelina fleeing.

  “The women are in the parlor. The men are in your father’s study.”

  I remember this ritual vividly. When my mother died, the parlor had been filled with the women from our neighborhood gossiping about my mother. Angelina, furiously rebellious after the Necromancer Trial, didn’t even make an appearance. I’d sat alone in a corner listening to the women discuss all the telltale signs of my mother’s wickedness while enduring the darting glances directed at me.

  At least her daughters are untainted, had been the general consensus.

  “I’m going out to the garden to eat this,” I inform Annah.

  Annah fidgets with the display on the table, her gaze darting nervously at the entrance to the parlor. In a whisper, she says, “You’re expected to be the hostess.”

  I crush the biscuit in my hand, the crumbs falling to the floor. I want to hurl the remains in my hand at Annah and scream at her not to tell me. I stop myself, comprehending it’s my father’s command relayed through her. She stares at my clenched fingers with wide eyes. I’ve never shown anger before and it’s evident I’ve shocked her.

  I drop the remains of the biscuit onto a napkin. “I apologize. I’m just distraught over my aunt’s death.”

  “Of course.” Annah starts to clean the mess I’ve made, ignoring my trembling lips and watery eyes.

  I turn toward the parlor but realize I can’t do what my father requires of me. Instead, I swivel about and stride through the narrow back hallway to the door that opens to the garden. I step outside into cool, damp air that smells of rain. The porch steps are wet and I tread carefully along the stone walkway. Drops of rainwater dot the ripe tomato I pluck to satisfy my growing hunger. I bite into the juicy red fruit as I walk toward the back gate. I’m still tempted to go to Quade’s house, but the ramifications restrain my unusual impulsiveness.

  Thunder rumbles and the threat of more rain darkens my mood even more. Soon my father will come to claim me for the procession to the Perdition Sanctuary. Chewing slowly, I watch the storm clouds gliding toward the settlement. I sit on a bench at the rear of the garden and stare at my home. With the lights off in the bedrooms, the house looks dark and empty. I never realized how much my aunt’s presence contributed to the mood of our home. I always thought her distant and a bit cold, but I never doubted she cared for me. Now she’s gone and I don’t know how we’ll continue without her.

  Ilyse?

  I sit upright, my gaze sweeping over the garden. I don’t see Quade, but suddenly he feels very near.

  Where are you, Quade?

  The gate behind your house. I’ve been trying to reach you for a few hours.

  I can’t help but smile at this. It’s comforting to know he wanted to see me, too. I wish I could see him face to face, but it’s impossible if I want to retain my standing and not come under suspicion.

  Ilyse?

  Lurking back there is not a good idea, you know. People will suspect something.

  Technically, I’m not lurking. I just found convenient reasons to keep walking back here.

  I do appreciate you coming to see me. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, Quade. I just don’t want you to get in trouble for looking after me.

  Everyone is concentrating on other matters now. I’m not a concern. I had to come. I need to tell you something.

  I sit in silence, take another bite of my tomato, and wait for him to speak again.

  I’m sorry, he finally whispers in my mind.

  It’s not your fault.

  If only I had realized earlier what she was, maybe we could have made another plan.

  Quade, she made her choice. None of us could have stopped her.

  I hesitate in my chewing, comprehending how much Angelina was like Aunt Leticia in that regard.

  Maybe you’re right. I do want you to know I’m trying to figure out how to help you. I’m reading up on the laws of the settlement and studying your Lost Texts. I’ll find a way, one way or another.

  I don’t answer him because it feels as though all hope is lost.

  Has your father talked to you yet, Ilyse?

  No. I’m avoiding him.

  Ilyse, you need to act like the loyal daughter. You need him to defend you. You were found innocent of necromancy, but Bale’s family is now insisting you murdered him through regular means.

  Tears flood my eyes again, and I wipe them away with the back of my hand. I’m going to die, aren’t I, Quade?

  Not if I can help it.

  I finish the tomato and wipe my fingers on the inside hem of my dress. Lowering my head, I stare at my hands with uncertainty. I didn’t kill Bale with regular means, but with my power. There’s no evidence against me, but will that spare me?

  I change the subject.

  I dreamed about the necromancer I saw in the outside corral. I’m not sure if it means anything, but in the dream she unleashed the Unblessed into the settlement and wanted me to stop them.

  It’s Quade’s turn to fall silent. On the other end of our strange connection, I can feel him sorting out my words and discerning if they mean anything or not.

  We need to be very careful, Ilyse. It might have just been a nightmare, but it could have been the necromancer sending you a message. I’m in contact with the Chantry and Cleric Fabiola is worried that a rogue necromancer is trying to call you out.

  My conversation with Carrie haunts me. She’d thought it was the Chantry possibly trying to ensnare me, but unless Quade is lying, and I doubt it, the necromancer is most likely a rogue. But what does she want with me?

  This is all because of my mother, isn’t it?

  I’d say yes.

  And you can’t sense the other necromancer at all?

  Powerful ones can guard themselves if they know how. Your aunt definitely hid it well. I didn’t see her power until her last moments.

  The image of my aunt falling into the waiting hands of the Unblessed fills my mind and I shudder.

  I promise to do my best to get you out of here, Ilyse.

  The back door opens and my father steps out. Clad all in black, he is a dour figure. He appears relieved when he sees me alone. “Ilyse, it’s time.”

  I have to go. It’s time for my aunt to be placed in the Perdition Sanctuary.

  I block out Quade’s response and stand. My father holds out his hand, gestures for me to hurry, and waits for me to join his side. Remembering Quade’s advice, I square my shoulders and obey. It’s hard to
not shirk away from my father’s arm settling around my shoulders as he escorts me inside. We walk through the house to the front door and join the gathering of people on the front porch. Men and women stand apart in clusters, but Rennon and Carrie are alone on the flagstone walkway.

  “Ilyse!” Rennon flings out his hands toward me and I rush to embrace him. His small fingers tangle in my hair as he presses his wet face to my neck.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whisper into his ear. “I am so, so sorry.”

  Patting my back, he says with a hitch in his voice, “Me, too, but she saved Carrie.”

  I kiss his cheek before letting go so I can hug my sister. Carrie clings to me wordlessly and it hurts to see the guilt in her eyes. Like I feared, she blames herself for my aunt’s sacrifice.

  My father walks to the gate and pushes it open, revealing the Brethren waiting for us. The six men have their heads covered with heavy wool hoods, reminding me of the necromancer. Four hold a wooden stretcher that the covered body of my aunt rests on. Beneath the covering, what remains of her reanimated body struggles to break free of her restraints. k,1,2

  The Brethren begin the long walk to the Perdition Sanctuary through the streets of the settlement and my family falls into line behind them. The women in mourning follow with the men in the rear. Though I try not to gaze at the writhing form beneath the covering, I can’t help myself. From the irregular bumps, it’s evident there is very little left of my aunt. This is the curse of the undead. Only a body turned to ash doesn’t return. Skeletal remains are just as dangerous as fresh ones once reanimated.

  When we arrive at the Perdition Sanctuary, the Council of Crats is waiting, along with gawkers who want to see the body of the accused necromancer. It doesn’t matter that my aunt was declared innocent – my mother’s guilt reflects on all the women of my family. Every time a woman is accused of necromancy, the uglier aspects of human nature reveal themselves.