Tears squeezed between her lids, and she opened her eyes. “Yes.”
Markim’s aged face appeared in the corner of her vision as he stooped to peer at her. His frown had acquired worry lines between his eyes. “Remember, it… will… end.”
His face receded. Hands touched her back, how many she couldn’t count. They hadn’t begun and already her stomach ached, breath quickened, and heart roared in her ears. The first blade touched the back of her head. For a brief moment, she felt nothing, pressure, the tickling of blood by her ear. Then in a flash of awareness, pain invaded her consciousness. She screamed as the knife curved down her neck, snaked over her spine to the small of her back. Every muscle clenched as she fought the straps. Agony lit her nerves on fire. Screaming drowned out all other sounds.
Blades sliced, curling fire, flicks of torture raising howling pleas. She screamed, pain consuming her consciousness. Vomit spat from her body between her cries. The needles beat, hammered into searing flesh until all she heard was the mallet pounding and her own voice begging for mercy. Blood dripped to the floor, scarlet footprints creating patterns, the world bathed in blood.
Then the straps released. Hands lifted her as though all life had fled her limbs. She hung between them, a corpse, except for the pain. They lowered her feet, then legs into the yellow pool. She slid down the side on her stomach, and they flipped her.
Yellow luminescence flooded her wounds with pain, more pain, the agony twisting her joints, light shooting through her limbs like pointed steel, piercing, skewering, cleaving, breaking. Bones shattered, head pounded, power exploding inside her skull.
The table beckoned, the memory of pain surreal until the knives once more began to carve, the needles to hammer. She vomited what remained in her stomach. Blood dribbled from her scalp into her eyes and mouth. Red rain pattered on the floor. Someone screamed as if burning alive in a white-hot fire, skin blistering and sloughing in agony until time stopped.
They floated her on the surface, her back submerged in pure green luminescence.
She gasped as a surge of ecstasy blasted through her, eclipsing the pain. Pleasure rippled in waves of energy and light, her body transformed into the sublime throes of sensual bliss. Luminescence mingled with her blood, streamed through her veins, and flooded her senses. She moaned, surging, drifting on a sea of physical rapture, and fell asleep until her stomach slid onto the table.
Misery blossomed. Torturous knives sliced. Blood bloomed. Needles punctured, the agony expressed in every fiery nerve. In the orange pool, luminescence licked at her skin in flames of fear. Raving panic howled in triumph over pain. She flailed and screamed, kicking and biting her captors, clawing at their arms and faces. She reared from the pool and tumbled to the floor. They returned her to the water, drowning her. Terror engulfed her, flooded her heart, and seized her mind. They trussed her and left her screaming in the burning luminescence.
On the table, consciousness broke, the screaming distant, a brittle, keening, inhuman sound. Blue luminescence welcomed her as a child, cradled in exquisite love, her soul swept into bliss, body surrendered. Light of the ages, of tenderness, compassion and devotion, eternal and unconditional, love laid open her heart.
Knives, blood, needles, cries of desolation and anguish, vomit and piss, panting, pain, pleas unheard, not an inch unscarred.
A pool of red luminescence, blood red, her blood emptying through the fissures in her skin. Her heart beat a dying drumbeat. Death loomed, sweet and sincere, an end. Nothing, no pain, no pleasure, no love, no fear, no peace. Nothing. Catling felt the last breath leave her.
***
She opened her eyes. Markim frowned and nodded as he checked her pulse. The needlers had departed, leaving her with the old Poisoner perched on a low stool at the pool’s edge. He dropped her wrist, and she drew it back into the thick violet light. The luminescence swirled around her, warm as a bath.
“Healing is the last bath, or we’d be churning out corpses and lunatics,” he muttered. “Not that we don’t on occasion.”
“It’s over?” She moved her body, stretching her muscles and twisting her back. She reached around herself testing the skin for tenderness. Her fingers rose to brush her shaved scalp. No wounds, no scars, no pain. “May I get out?”
The stooped man handed her a glass of glowing luminescence. “Whenever you are so inclined.” He rose and hobbled down the steps. “But I wouldn’t be in any hurry. There’s a mirror over there. Let yourself out.”
“How many days have I been here?”
He didn’t slow as he crossed the floor. “Three.”
“Markim?” she called.
At the door, he turned to face her. “Get on with it.”
“If violet luminescence heals, why aren’t there pools everywhere?”
“Ask your doyen.” He pinched his lips and touched the panel. “Influencers decide who lives and dies.”
“Wait,” she stopped him again. “Why don’t you use it?”
“Ah, Catling.” He wagged a crooked finger at her. “There’s no cure for oldness.” With that, he stepped out, and the door slid closed.
She drank deeply, her body yearning for moisture. Her shoulders relaxed as she drew in a deep breath and yawned. So this was the secret to the guild’s power, luminescence, the world’s blood dissected. She dropped her head back and closed her eyes. The pain had vanished as though it never existed. Even the memory had lost its edge as if the luminescence of the mercys had healed not only her body but her mind.
She climbed from the water and left glowing footprints across the floor. A glance at the table revealed nothing of her ordeal, the blood, piss, and vomit scrubbed from the surfaces, the floor spotless, all instruments tucked away. The sharp perfume she’d noticed upon her arrival had returned.
The mirror reflected the same Catling she’d viewed in Vianne’s quarters, but for the delicate green leaves and coiling vines over one shoulder. On a chair lay a round hand mirror. She picked it up and turned, using it to gaze over her shoulder at the larger glass.
Climbing her back was an enchanted garden of curling vines and leaves, fanciful flowers, dragonflies, and a red bird. The design displayed the skills of several artists, most of it confined to the center of her back, yet with room for growth. Despite all she’d endured, she couldn’t resist a thin smile.
Her sense of herself shifted once again, the helpless child transformed into a woman of sublime skills. Her eye, her rose shield, had set a course beyond her control. Now the marks licking her skin glistened with embedded luminescence. Beautiful and dangerous, she vibrated with light. Influence trembled in her veins. She understood the tantalizing impulse to wield her new power, and so she would.
***
The Rose Shield continues with Book II: Oathbreakers’ Guild.
Oathbreakers’ Guild
The Rose Shield: Book II
Catling, an aspirant of the Influencers’ Guild, learns to wield the power of the garden carved into her skin. Friends are fewer than enemies, and those who wished her dead now plot her failure. Sworn to the young queen, she enters the world of Elan-Sia where the powerful maneuver for control of the throne.
Amidst rising unrest in the south and increasing pressure from the seafaring Cull Tarr, the high wards of the tiers plot rebellion. Gannon stirs the warrens, and Whitt marches with the warriors of Guardian. Propelled by revenge, Catling journeys to Mur-Vallis. Her mission—to assassinate the man who stole her past, a task that will define her future.
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About the Author
I am humbled and grateful to every reader who took a chance on a fledgling writer and her book. This vocation is a solitary one, a pouring out of one’s heart to an unknown audience with fingers crossed. If you found my little creation worthy, a review would bring a huge smile.
About me? I started writing late in life when other demands on my time eased. I live in the coastal mountains of Oregon amid the moss and rain and giant forests. I share
a log cabin with my husband, two dogs, and Pinky the cat.
For excerpts and updates on books, sales, maps, and book club questions, visit: http://dwallacepeachbooks.com
For my blog of writerly musings, writing tips, and a glimpse into a writer’s life, visit: http://mythsofthemirror.com
Books by D. Wallace Peach
The Melding of Aeris
Sunwielder
The Sorcerer’s Garden
The Bone Wall
The Dragon Soul Quartet:
Myths of the Mirror
Eye of Fire
Eye of Blind
Eye of Sun
The Rose Shield Tetralogy:
Catling’s Bane
Oathbreakers’ Guild
Farlanders’ Law
Kari’s Reckoning
Catling's Bane (The Rose Shield Book 1) Page 31
