Mara combed the front of her dress trying to flatten the ruffles. But they stubbornly refused to stay down. Her red hair was frizzled, strands of it sticking out from her braid like fu whiskers. She hadn’t had time to oil them that morning because she was trying to prepare the inn for the evening celebrations. Why is it the sole responsibility of the bride’s family to throw an engagement feast? Of course, Myron had offered to help, both financially and physically, but she had to refuse out of propriety. Her mother had insisted. The necklace her ma had given her did look beautiful against the beige and gold of her attire, the pearl affixed pendant adding a touch of subtle elegance to the shimmery ensemble. Was the kohl a touch too much though? She really did not want to paint her eyes but Aalia had insisted it would bring out her grey irises.
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She turned away from the mirror. She was nervous. Her mind tended to wander whenever she was. But she could not fathom why. She had been so calm about the engagement thus far, until last night when a flock of butterflies had suddenly nested in her stomach and now refused to settle down.
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Isn’t it obvious Mar? You don’t get engaged everyday.
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She took two long deep breaths and finally took a seat on the luxuriously cushioned chair that she had been provided. The temple seemed to have many such chairs, didn't it? While she was struggling to figure out how to pay for replacing the bar stools in her tavern that were falling apart. She sighed.
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Get a grip, Mar! Think of it as just another business deal.
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That calmed her down a little. But she was relieved when she finally heard the knock on the door of the little anteroom she had been exiled to since arriving at the temple that morning.
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“Mara. It’s time.” A female voice called from outside. She got up, schooled her expression into the steely calm she reserved for thieving merchants, and opened the door.
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Elta, her heavily pregnant friend, who, at the last minute had agreed to be her maid-in-waiting, stood outside. A big smile was plastered across her heavily painted face. It was hard to think they were the same age. Elta had gotten married as soon as she turned seventeen and was already on her way to a second baby.
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“Oh, Mara! You look beautiful!” She exclaimed as if she had not just seen Mara this morning. “Though, maybe the kohl is a tad too old-fashioned, don’t you think?”
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Mara shook her head and smiled. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
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She led the way through the narrow hallway and emerged into the large domed chamber that was the main prayer room of the temple. The guests, which included half of the town of Silver Peak, were already seated cross legged on the floor in front of the altar. Mara noticed, to her chagrin, Lord Mayor Haysteed had also graced the occasion with his family. Though no doubt, his presence was less to do with their distant familial connection and more to see for himself that Mara went through with the ceremony. Priest Juegen stood in front of the white marble statue of Joha. The larger-than-life statue towered over him and all the faithful gathered there. The blessed mother’s marble face was serene. Her feet bare and her body were robed from head to toe in a single flowing garment of white and gold. She held the emblematic gold sunburst clutched in one hand. Her other arm was outstretched, palm held up, thumb and index fingers pinched, and the other three fingers unfurled, in the pose of her traditional blessing. Myron and her ma stood on either side of the newil priest and beside them … .
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Mara blinked. Eren was wearing a scarlet wool coat stitched with fine gold filigree that highlighted his shoulders and arms and accentuated the bronze of his skin and dark maroon of his eyes. His grey silk breeches snugly hugged the muscular curvature of his thighs and calves and his generally unruly hair was slicked back in waves of jet black. Confident and composed, he struck a real figure as he calmly watched her approach. Somehow, in the hustle and bustle of daily life, she had missed when Eren had ceased to be the snotty nosed boy and grown into a, quite attractive, man.
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Elta pinched her arm. “Mara! They are waiting.” She whispered urgently in her ear.
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Mara felt the heat rise in her cheeks. She closed her gaping mouth and hurried forward to take her place next to her betrothed before the butterflies overwhelmed her. Eren gave her a quick nervous grin. She was relieved to see she was not the only one feeling the pressure of this spectacle. Priest Juegen took their right hands, rather roughly in Mara’s opinion, and laid them on top of each other with his own hand supporting them. Then with a practiced smile stretching the wrinkles of his face, began his impassioned sermon.
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“Brothers and sisters, today we have gathered under the blessed light of our divine mother to bind these two souls with a promised vow. The joining of two immortal souls is one of the sacred duties given to us priests by our blessed mother. And I am honored to be here today to help these two young lives begin their journey together. If anyone has any objections to this union, please, speak up now.”
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The question was mostly ceremonial of course and Mara was not expecting anyone to object. Juegen had already picked up the silver jug of holy water to pour it over their hands, not waiting for a response. So she was just as surprised as everyone else when she heard a rough voice speak out from the other end of the chamber.
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“I have objection to this union.”
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Mara, like every other face at the ceremony, turned to search for the source of the voice, and frowned. At first she did not recognize the vagrant. Long brown matted hair and shaggy unkempt beard, twisted in knots and tangles, covered the man’s face and shoulders. A tattered ripped shirt and patched breeches draped his gaunt figure. His skin was red and swollen in places, his feet were bare and congealed with grime and he walked with a limp. But his eyes were familiar and she gasped when she recognized him. Feldor Hargreev, Tam’s father, staggered to the front of the audience and glared at them from behind emerald irises.
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“I object to this union.” He repeated in a slurred voice, staggering where he was standing. He was clearly drunk but his eyes blazed with a mad zeal. He raised a grimy finger at Eren. “This boy is evil. He is not what he seems. He is deceiving this poor girl.”
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Mara remembered Feldor had accused Eren publicly once before, for having something to do with Tam’s disappearance. Eren and Tam were as close of friends as any and it was logical to think that Eren would know what had befallen Tam. But Feldor also had a reputation for making a public nuisance of himself, especially when he was drunk, which he was most of the time. And it was not a secret that he was abusive to his son. No one paid attention to Feldor’s drunken claims and assumed that Tam, having had enough of his father, simply ran away. A few months later, Feldor had left town too, having been overheard muttering about searching for his son. It looked like, wherever he had been, he had a rough time of it. Mara had no idea he had returned to Silver Peak, let alone been invited to their engagement ceremony.
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She stole a glance towards Eren. The colour had drained from the boy’s face, his lips pursed tightly and his eyes wide in shock. He had pulled his hand away from Priest Juegen’s grasp and was now holding it beside himself in a white knuckled grip.
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“Feldor Hargreev!” Juegen’s high pitched nasal voice rang through the high chamber. “How dare you come drunk into the halls of our blessed mother and make such absurd insinuations?”
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“Oh! Shut up!” Feldor waved his hand at the priest dismissively and then turned to address the gathering. “The boy is a sheather, and a demon friend, a heraadhin. He seduced my poor Tam and then sacrificed him to the demons!”
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A cacophony of murmurs burst through the gathering and Mara saw Feldor grin as his words took effect. Many in attendance smirked, clearly not believing Feldor, but nonetheless, excited about the drama unfolding before them.
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“You did not believe me before, did you? When I told ya the boy was evil.” He spat. “Ya laughed behind my back, called me moonstruck. Well!”
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Feldor stretched out his arms theatrically, staggered and fell on his behind. Several people laughed but Feldor seemed unperturbed. He floundered back up to his feet. “Laugh all you want, but I can prove it. I can prove this boy is demon-blood.”
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Then, it all happened very fast. One moment, Feldor was standing, drinking in the attention he was getting from his audience. Next moment he was hauled into the air by the sizable hand of Myron Millstrem around his neck. Myron towered over the slender vagrant, snorting like a mad bull. His face and eyes were red with fury and the orange glint in his ginger beard and hair, from the sunlight falling through skylights above, gave the impression that his face was ablaze. Myron rarely showed his temper, but when he did, it was a terrifying sight to behold. And at the moment, he looked like he would snap Feldor’s neck like a twig.
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“Enough!” The giant man had no need to shout. His low menacing growl carried easily enough over the now still chamber. “One more word out of your mouth about my son and I’ll rip that dark tongue of yours out.”
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Feldor gagged and gasped under Myron’s chokehold, flailing his legs wildly in the air. Mara’s heart thumped in horror as she watched Myron squeeze the life out of the smaller man. Then, Eren was by his father’s side, pulling on his arm.
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“Da!” Eren pleaded frantically. “Let him go. You are killing him!”
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Several other men in the audience also stood up, including the Lord Mayor and the chief of the town guard. They looked at each other nervously, waiting for the other to step up and risk Myron’s wrath first.
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“Da! Please! Let go of him!” Eren clasped his da’s hand with both of his own and yanked. For a wild moment, Feldor swung like a kite in a breeze. Then, Myron’s grip loosened and Feldor crashed to the floor in a crumpled heap, coughing and sputtering like a wet mozi.
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“Get that filth out of my sight before I do something I will regret.” Myron growled at no one in particular as he turned away from Feldor, guided by Eren’s stern grip.
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Chief Muntoose and several other men, recognizing it was safe for them to approach, hurried past the Millstrems to pick up Feldor from the floor. They hauled the drunk up from his arms, and with a nod from the priest, started dragging him towards the tall wooden double-doored exit of the chamber. Feldor, recovering somewhat from the chokehold, didn’t resist, at first simply content with glaring quietly as he was led away.
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Then, he started shouting again. “Don’t think, I don’t know what you’re up to Millstrem, you and that demon-blooded child of yours.”
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“Oh! Shut up, you!” Chief Muntoose cuffed the drunk in the head.
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Meanwhile, Eren struggled to keep his father from hurling himself across the chamber at the heckling drunkard. “Let it go, da! Leave him!”
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“You had him marked from the very beginning, didn’t you? My son.” Feldor continued, unconcerned of the imminent danger to his life. “I know what you did boy. I know what you did with my lad in that demon city, where you took him that night. You know you are demon-blood. I will prove it.”
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“I will prove it!” Feldor shouted one last time as he was carried out the door. “I will show everyone what the two of you really are!”79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtfB4oenUan
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Then the doors closed, cutting off Feldor’s voice and wrapping the prayer chamber in an uncomfortable silence.
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Mara stood stunned, trying to come to terms with what had just unfolded in front of her. She looked from Myron, sweating and heaving, his face still red with anger, to Eren, his face chalk-white as he struggled to calm his da down. Truth be told, she had always believed that Eren knew more about Tam’s disappearance than he was letting on. She figured Tam had pledged Eren to keep it a secret. But now…..
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Come on, Mar! You seriously can’t be thinking Eren did something to Tam. Why would he? They were, best friends, inseparable.
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And, Eren, a demon-friend? Mara twisted her face in disgust. Demon-friend was a foul superstition made up by bigots like Feldor to justify their hatred for the dark-skinned. The more rational explanation of course was that Feldor had finally gone mad over his son abandoning him. Mara had no sympathy for the man anyway. Feldor had been a monster to Tam, beating him hither and thither in his drunken rage. Now, if he couldn’t cope with the knowledge his son had finally left him, well that was his burden.
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She felt a grip on her arm and found her ma looking at her with concern.
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“Are you alright, darling?” Hera asked gently.
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Mara nodded. “Yes, ma! I’m fine!”
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“Uh! I’m really sorry about all this!” Eren came up to join them, anxiety and guilt marring his handsome face as he dragged Myron behind him. “If you want to postpone the ceremony, we will understand.”
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“No!” Hera insisted emphatically. “All the preparations have been made. There is no reason why we should cancel the engagement over that lying drunk’s absurd accusations. Right?” She turned to Mara for assent.
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Mara was surprised her ma was taking all of this so well. Today seemed to be a day of surprises. Mara took a long breath and looked Eren in the eye.
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“Are you alright? You are the one he was …”
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“I am fine! Really!” Eren interjected, smiling nervously at her. “Nothing that I haven’t heard before.”
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“We should continue with the ceremony, then, if you are fine with it?” She smiled back and was glad to see relief wash over his face. Eren nodded.
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“Well! Now that we have that out of the way, shall we continue?” Priest Juegen asked, a touch of impatience in his voice, as he held out his hands to them again.
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Mara took the old priest's hand and breathed. “Yes! Let’s finish this.”
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----
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It was almost afternoon when Callan and his escort returned to the Nogar village. They had spent the rest of the night and most of the morning searching for the missing officers without any success. Now, with every growing hour, the possibility of finding them alive grew slim. But any worry Callan had over his missing soldiers was eclipsed from his thoughts by the sight that met him.
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The village was annihilated. Roofs were caved in. Doors wrenched from their hinges and splintered to pieces. Walls of some of the huts had crumbled completely, leaving only a heap of wood and dirt. Red stained the ground, mingling with the mud and rendering it a dirty scarlet. A shiver ran down Callan’s spine as his party rode through the bloodied empty street, the squelch of their mount’s hooves echoing in the uneasy silence. Not a soul was in sight.
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What happened here?
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But he already knew the answer. Whatever had attacked them that night had also attacked the village. He came to a stop in the middle of the street and jumped from his mount, disregarding the filth that splattered around him. His men followed suit, their tense posture and unconscious stroking of their pommels betraying their anxiety.
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“By Joha!” Eachen exclaimed, his voice barely above a whisper, and yet, ringing clear in the silence. “Who could’ve done this?”
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“Eachen, I want you to come with me to the wind-whisperer’s cabin.” Callan ordered. “The rest of you, pair up and search the village for any survivors. And, be on your guard. I don’t believe whoever did this is still hanging around but be careful. If you find anything, call me immediately.”
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The soldiers nodded and departed. Callan led Eachen to the stone hut at the end of the street, quickening his pace as the scene of the attack grew increasingly brutal. Random red streaks on the ground turned into trails of blood. Broken spears and axes were strewn across the street. Houses gutted by fire bordered the streets on both sides. It looked like the villagers had put up a fight. But there were no dead, not even a human finger had been left behind.
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The little hill, on which the wind-whisperer’s cabin stood, looked like a battlefield. The green of the haegiri and demon-weed that covered the hillock was peppered with dried blood, glinting like foculin in afternoon light. Copper heads, iron wedges and splintered handles were strewn across the field. And the scent that suffused the air around it had a sour coppery tang that reminded Callan of the execution cages of Faldora. Callan gagged at the foul scent as he surveyed the remnants of the final stand made by the villagers.
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“Holy blessed mother!” Eachen cursed behind him. “The last time I saw such a bloody field it was during the siege of Meritan hill.”
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“They were fighting for their lives.” Callan acknowledged quietly.
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Just as other houses in the village, the wooden door of the white stone cabin lay broken at the threshold and blood dyed the muddy track leading up to it. Clearly someone had been dragged down the path recently, and from the smears, violently. Callan nodded to his second-in-command, gripped the pommel of his sword and made his way up towards the wide-open entrance of the hut.
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The entry to the circular cabin was blocked by a fallen beam. Callan pushed at it cautiously. Then confident the roof would not fall, he dragged it aside. Ashy dust billowed up and with it, the acrid smell of burned hair, making them cough. Batting their hands in front of their faces they stepped inside.
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The inside of the hut looked like a storm had blown through it. The fire pit was overturned. The fur carpets were torn, burnt and covered with feathers, dirt and ash. The implements of daily life lay scattered around the room and deep gashes and splatters of blood mutilated the pagan symbols that had been painted on the walls.
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“She fought!” Callan observed. It was hard for him to imagine the frail crone he had met the day before, putting up much of a resistance against an enemy capable of the carnage he witnessed outside. But from the state of her home, it was clear she had struggled with this unknown enemy for her life. Heretic as she was, Callan couldn’t help feeling a begrudging respect for the steely old woman.
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“Aye! That she did.” Eachen agreed. “But where are the bodies? All this blood and gore but not a single dead body? By Beniot’s fire, not even bones are left behind.”
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“True. Where are the bodies?” Callan repeated, frowning.
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“You think, these creatures, whatever in Beniot’s name they are, eat the dead?” Eachen grimaced as he used the tip of his sword to pick at a particularly foul smelling knot of blankets. There was a hitch of fear in the seasoned soldier’s voice.
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Callan wished he hadn’t told Eachen what he had learned from Brine last night. Eachen was a good soldier, brave, loyal and skilled in keeping the men under control. But he could be also irrationally superstitious, a malady that seemed to plague most of his generation. Right now Callan couldn’t have him going off his frizele. His men were already nervous and agitated enough, with the rumors of demons circling around the camp, despite Callan’s best efforts to contain them. It was only going to get worse once the news of what had happened to the village reached the rest of them. And the last thing he wanted to add to that fire was that the monsters ate human flesh.
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“We don’t know what we are dealing with yet.” Callan scolded sternly. “Better not go around telling stories until we know more.”
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“Uh! Right! Sorry captain!” The older man blushed, embarrassed at being chastised.
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They lapsed into silence, overturning pots and pans with their swords as they surveyed the wrecked cabin. But they found no clue to what had attacked the village.
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“Fire take me!” Callan muttered under his breath. With the wind-whisperer gone, he had no leads left.
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Should’ve gotten everything I could out of her when I had the chance.
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He was ashamed to admit he had been taken aback by the old crone’s steely reserve and way with words. He hadn’t come prepared to exchange banter with her and the incident with the boy and his mother had unnerved him more than he’d realized. He had been eager to leave the gaunt haunted expressions and hostile eyes of the villagers behind and now it was going to cost him his men, and maybe more.
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“Captain!” A sudden cry interrupted their investigation.
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Callan and Eachen exchanged looks and then dashed outside. Bernol stood panting at the bottom of the hill, clutching his sides, with a sickly expression on his face.
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“What’s the matter?” Callan enquired perturbedly.
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“Captain, we found something. It’s … ” Bernol’s face paled further. “I think you should come and see.”
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Callan and Eachen climbed down the hill and followed Bernol, past the ruined empty huts and outside the village. He led them to a ledge overlooking a cliff, just past where the first of the huts stood. The rest of his men stood a little way off from the ledge, looking sickly and pale. He noticed a fresh puddle of vomit and one of the men hastily wiping his lips with his sleeves.
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“Down there captain.” Bernol gestured with a shaking hand.
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Heart pounding, Callan walked to the edge of the ledge and peered over. The drop was not as deep as he imagined. An outcrop of the mountain jutting a few spans beneath them broke the fall, forming a wide rocky platform. And there, scattered among the black and grey basaltine stones, stacked on top of one another in a pile of limbs, heads and torsos, lay the naked, mangledcorpses of the Nogar. A familiar face stared at him from the top of the pile, a child’s face with brown glassy eyes, snotty nose and matted brown hair. Callan turned away from the grotesque scene and heaved. They had found their missing villagers.
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—-
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It was almost midnight when Eren staggered to his kitchen door drunk as a fiordian boar. Ganett and his boys had insisted on another round of ale after the festivities of the evening had finally died down. He was not sure why Ganett Haysteed was suddenly being so friendly to him after years of giving him the stink eye. But after the events of the day, he was more than happy to oblige them. Being drunk was the only thing keeping him from running and hiding behind a rock.
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One round had turned into five. Hours had blurred. He wasn’t even sure what they had been giggling about but he remembered Mara gave him a disgusted look at one point before stamping away. It had not even been a day since they were engaged, and the woman was already starting to act like a wife. Eren groaned, his head spinning, as he tried to turn the brass knob. His hands slipped, and he staggered crashing against the wooden panels. Fumbling, he tried to put himself upright, but the door suddenly wrenched open and he crashed into a heavy set of shoulders.
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“You stink!” Myron barked, his lips curling in disgust. He then grabbed Eren by the arm and dragged him over the threshold. He led him to the kitchen table and set him down on one of the balati-hewn chairs. A hot steaming cup pressed into his hand and scalded his fingers. Eren yelped but Myron forced the hot cup into his palm.
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“Drink!” Myron ordered.
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Eren belched and made a face. The last thing he wanted right then was to put anything else in his stomach. His stomach gurgled, swollen with the copious amounts of ale he had ingested. The world lurched every time he moved his head and there was a growing throb in his temples. All he wanted to do was drag himself to bed and sink into sleep. But it seemed Myron had other ideas.
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“Drink!” Myron repeated more forcefully this time.
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Hesitantly, Eren took a sip. He barely registered the taste of the liquid, his tongue still coated thick with sour ale. But it did settle his stomach and his mind felt a little less foggy. He looked up at his father.
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‘We need to talk.” Myron's expression was tense, his lips drawn into a thin tight line and a nerve throbbed at his left temple.
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“Right now?” Eren groaned. “Can’t it wait till morn?” He really didn’t want to hear a lecture on night-dawdling and binge drinking from his father just now. He had just gotten engaged, for blessed heavens!
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“No! Keep drinking.”
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Eren took another sip.
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“Is it true?” Myron asked.
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“What is true?”
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“That you visited Maelagiri with that boy?”
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Eren blinked. Myron’s question shot through his fogged mind like an arrow. He hadn’t expected this.
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“What are you talking about?” Eren’s heartbeat quickened, though his words were still slurried and he was having a hard time focusing.
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Is this really happening right now?
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“You know what I’m talking about boy?” Myron growled. “Did you go to that cursed place with that boy?”
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Eren’s temper flared. He wouldn’t even say Tam’s name. As if Tam was some filth not worth putting a name to.
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“No!” Eren yelled. “And that boy’s name is Tam?”
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“Don’t you raise your voice at me boy?” Myron stood up, his face flushing red with anger.
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“Or what?” Eren stood up too, facing his father. “You gonna belt me or choke me like you were choking Feldor today?”
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Myron reached over and grabbed Eren by the scuff. Eren flinched. A mad zeal covered Myron’s eyes.
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“Don’t provoke me and don’t lie. Just answer the question. Did you or did you not go to Maelagiri?”
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Eren's heart thundered in his ribcage. The man in front of me was not the man he knew. No matter how heated the arguments between them got, he never believed his father would ever hurt him. But this man. He knew this man would hurt him. If Eren gave him a reason to.
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“Yes!” Eren conceded, his breath escaping in short gasps. “Yes, I did!”
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“For all the demon infested baolis!” Myron shoved Eren, releasing his grip and sending him crashing down into his seat. “After I told you! After I told you never to go near that demon-cursed place!”
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Myron turned away from him and Eren looked down at his boots, too stunned to speak.
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“What happened?” Myron asked, still facing away from Eren.
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“Huh?”
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“What happened to Tam?”
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“I don’t know da. I swear on Joha, I don’t.” Eren’s voice came out in a frantic plea. “He was there one moment. And then he was gone.”
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Myron didn’t say anything.
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“Please! Da! You have to believe me. I really thought he ran away.” Tears streamed down Eren’s face. He wanted to tell his father everything, about Tam leaving him and breaking his heart. About the nightmares. About his fear of what he was. But something held him back, something in Myron’s tense stance warned him to keep his mouth shut.
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“Leave! Go to bed!” Myron finally said.
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Eren stared at his father’s broad back for a while. Then he scraped off his chair and headed up the stairs to his bedroom.
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Eren did not know what made him stop. He did not know what made him say those words. But Myron had finally drilled a hole in the dam he had built around himself and the weight of all the secrets suddenly seemed too much.
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“Da! Tam and I … “
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Myron turned to face his son, his eyes wide and glinting in the dim flickering light of the single candle burning on the kitchen shelf. And even the shadows couldn’t hide the look of disgust on his face.
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“You think I don’t know. You think I didn’t know what the two of you were up to behind the mill all this time. Why do you think I threw that drunk Feldor and his degenerate son out?”
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Eren felt numb. The dam had broken, the secret out like the force of raging water and in that turmoil, his da had smashed his heart into pieces.79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmX4eAMzc7P
