Solace Lost

by Michael Sliter

  Dunmore, destroyed. No more laughter as the Perrigen kids ran around, fighting off imaginary monsters with sticks. No more smells of the delectable apple pies that Angie Arlins would make and set on her windowsill, knowing full well that at least one would turn up missing, pilfered by those very same stick-wielding children. No more friendly greetings from Mayor Marsh, and certainly no more weekly Yetranian ceremonies in this very chapel. Facing the chapel, Meri was surprised to find that, even though she wouldn’t have attended such services after her ordeal, the idea that they were gone forever brought tears to her eyes. But, she could deal with those feeling later, once she found out who had survived. And once she figured out what had destroyed most everything that she knew.

  Standing on the threshold of the chapel, Meri felt a sudden reluctance to go any further. Her hand was on the handle of the door and her heart was fluttering, her head pounding, when she felt around in the pockets of Sandra’s light blue dress—finding the reassuring touch of her knife. She took a deep breath, grasped the simple, iron handle, and pulled open the door.

  Light flowed from the service room, and Merigold couldn’t see for a moment. One arm flung up in front of her face, she walked in. She had entered this chapel so many times before, and she automatically stepped over the large crack that stretched across the entryway stones. Ragen had always wanted to get it fixed…

  “That can’t be… Merigold Hinter?”

  Hearing a familiar, friendly voice for the first time in recent memory, Merigold felt her legs go weak. Tears leaked, unbidden, from her eyes, and her lower lip began quivering. Just before she fell, she was enveloped in strong, soft arms.

  ---

  “So, we’d been gone for about two weeks. My pa took us with him to sell some eggs, and my ma had built up quite a collection of pottery over the winter,” Marissa Punter said, her chubby face illuminated by the flickering flames from the stove.

  “Yeah, and my mom had woven some beautiful carpets. You should have seen them, Meri! They looked like they must be from Sestra,” said Ola Fial, her rich brown eyes shining with a damp excitement.

  The two girls were younger than Meri by several years; Marissa—a chubby blonde girl with a womanly figure—was about seventeen, and Ola—tall and thin as a reed, with stringy chestnut brown hair—was about eleven. Both girls had lived in Dunmore their entire lives, though Merigold knew Marissa much better than Ola. She remembered teaching Marissa, one hot day, how to chop wood correctly. You don’t hit it straight on. You aim for the edge, cutting right along a seam. But they wouldn’t be cutting wood together in the town square anymore.

  “So we went to town, Ola and her family and me and my family, along with the Hagathorns, over to Ingers and Astin. We made sales, spent some time with relatives and family friends. Everything seemed normal—”

  “And then we came back to this!” interrupted Ola, sounding both upset and excited. Meri guessed that, being so young, Ola didn’t quite understand the import of what had happened here. She didn’t entirely understand death. Marissa, on the other hand, seemed to be just barely holding it together, obviously trying to be strong for both Meri and the younger girl.

  “Yes, we came back into town via the western road, just after sunset. Things seemed almost normal from a distance—”

  “But everyone was dead.”

  “Ola, please! Yes, everyone was dead. Some were… torn to pieces. Others… just lay there.” Meri could see a mirror of her own reaction in the girl’s eyes. Stunned. Disbelieving. Horrified. Uncertain.

  “You probably noticed the wagons out front.” Merigold hadn’t. “We went here, to the chapel, hoping that any survivors would come—”

  “But no one was here, so my parents and Marissa’s paren—”

  “Ola! Sit still and tend to the tea!”

  “I can’t do both!” Ola spread her hands wide.

  “Well, then sit still! I’m sorry, Meri. Everyone else went to search for survivors and left us here to—”

  “Even our moms! And everyone had weapons from the basement!”

  “For the love of Yetra, Ola! Yes, they left us here, and we had locked and barred the doors. My parents headed toward the western outskirts, the farms over there, and Ola’s ma and the Hagathorns went to the eastern outskirts. To find anyone still around, and bring them here. To bury… everyone, and figure out what to do next.” Marissa’s features were tight, as if she were just able to hold back tears. Dear Yetra, the only concerns that Marissa should have right now were wondering who to dance with at the Summer Zenith festival. “We’d both fallen asleep, and the next thing I knew, the bell was ringing!”

  For once, Ola didn’t interrupt. Meri examined the younger girl, who was now hunched forward, thin hair covering her face and her eyes. She had the posture and appearance of guilt.

  “I’m sorry, Marissa. I thought that the bell might guide my ma home through the night, and I unbarred the doors so she could get in if we were sleeping.”

  “Ola, you need to think! If the people who’d done… this… were still nearby, they’d have heard the bell and come get us!”

  “I know, Marissa. I just got scared, and I miss my ma,” said the little girl, tears glistening in her eyes. Marissa sighed and pulled the girl close. “It’s okay, Ola. If you hadn’t rung the bell, Merigold wouldn’t have come here. And we are so happy she is here.” She gave Meri a wan smile, clearly spent.

  “But, Meri. We’ve been doing all the talking. Where have you been? It’s been over two months since we saw you last!”

  “Oh, I’ve been… um…” Meri didn’t know what to say. Obviously, she couldn’t tell these girls what had happened. Ola was too young, and Marissa was looking more and more overwhelmed. She couldn’t heap any additional burdens on them.

  “Senida said that you ran off with some man—”

  “Ola!”

  “It’s okay,” Meri said grimly. “That’s exactly what happened.”

  “I knew it!”

  “Ola! Go sit on the bench,” pleaded Marissa, gesturing to some seating in the corner of the taneory, where the girls were currently hidden away. The taneory fireplace provided light, and some unwelcome additional warmth, in the summer heat. Meri could see Taneo Marsh’s things lying about: his wide-brimmed hat that hid his shiny, bald head. His flexible wooden cane, which Meri was convinced he didn’t actually need. Even his silver Ascension necklace, with Yetra portrayed standing over a gray background, arms raised in a “v.”

  Now, Taneo Marsh was probably lying dead somewhere beyond the chapel.

  Marissa leaned forward, a hint of a smile on her face. “Sorry about Ola. But really, you ran off with a man? Was he handsome?” Meri thought about Saren, as she’d used to see him. And, as she saw him now.

  “Yes, he was handsome,” she said.

  “Really? I can’t wait to find a handsome man. All the boys in this town…” Marissa trailed off, averting her head and scrubbing at her eyes. “But, no one could believe it. Your pa was furious, stomping around town, asking questions. Sandra told him and a bunch of other people in town that you’d been with Saren, and I thought for sure your pa was going to wring his neck. They got in a big argument right in the middle of town! But then Saren said you’d stood him up for someone else, and Paul said he saw you running off late at night with a tall Sestrian.”

  Merigold shuddered at the sound of both Saren’s name and Paul’s, but Marissa continued without even taking notice. “We didn’t know what to believe! But your pa wasn’t having any of it and just kept shouting at folks—especially folks who made implications about you running off, or… darker things.”

  There it was. The darker things. The witchery. The bullshit that Saren had made up. Granted, Merigold had—in what felt like a lifetime ago—had an unusual ability. To draw energy from others, to help her keep on her feet during the long shifts. But, this had practically been an instinct, like scratching an itch or stretching a stiff limb. She’d never abused it, never drawn too mu
ch from anyone, or too much in a given day. And she certainly never had talked about it, so there was almost no chance that anyone knew of it.

  But witchcraft! That was nothing like her ability. Witchcraft was something that the Taneos railed against, where witches would imprison children and steal their souls, eat animals alive, and put curses on towns and villages. Babies would be born dead, crops would wither and die, and even stones would turn to dust. These stories had made Meri shiver when she’d been younger.

  And none of it mattered, anyway. Merigold hadn’t been able to draw since that first night with Saren. She couldn’t even feel her own vessel, as she pictured it, or the vessels of others.

  “Yes, I wish my father had known what happened to me,” said Merigold now, thinking of what Ragen would have done to Saren.

  “What happened to your eye? And what’s with the bruises?” Ola had been sneaking closer while the older girls chatted.

  “Ola! We don’t ask questions like that!” Marissa appeared simultaneously appalled and curious herself. She kept her eyes on Meri, head tilted.

  Meri brought her hand to her eye. Her socket felt puffy and painfully sensitive, and she imagined it looked hideous to the girls who had been either too tired, too distracted, or too tactful to bring it up earlier.

  “I… I had a tumble from a farmer’s wagon on the way back here. My eye must have hit a rock.” It was a weak story, but the best that Meri could come up with. Marissa considered her face, her own expression thoughtful and maybe a bit suspicious, but she didn’t press the matter.

  “A wagon? Where did the wagon drop you off? Did you see anyone else? Was anyone hurt? Did—” Marissa cut off Ola yet again. She looked Merigold right in the eyes, her own face grim. It was almost as if the younger girl could briefly see past her own grief to understand Meri’s own.

  “I’m sure that Meri needs some rest, as do we all, Ola. Let’s not pester her with questions. We should all get some sleep. Meri, we have plenty of blankets.”

  Meri smiled her thanks. “Yes, we should all rest.” It might help avoid more questions. “But at first light, I am heading to the Duckling. I need to know if everything is okay.”

  Marissa briefly frowned. “Please, give some time for our parents to come back. They can help keep you safe.”

  Merigold gripped her knife in her pocket. “I can keep myself safe.”

  ---

  It was nearly full daylight outside. Meri could see early rays of light filtering down through the bell tower, giving life to the new day. She had not slept at all, but rather kept a vigil over the girls who’d both faded shortly after their conversation, Ola’s head on Marissa’s lap. Oh, how the two of them reminded Meri of herself and Sandra, falling asleep after a long night of talking and gossiping. She hoped fervently that Sandra was safe.

  Ragen, too, had better be safe. Meri touched Marissa on the shoulder, aware that she could feel nothing more than the girl’s skin. No vessel, no energy. Marissa flinched at her touch, though, exhaling heavily and waking Ola.

  “Sorry to wake you,” Meri said gently.

  Marissa blinked against the new day’s light. “It’s okay. I was having bad… dreams. You just startled me.”

  Dreams. The poor girl was now destined to a lifetime of bad dreams. Meri squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. “I know. But it seems safe here, now. Even so, I am going to head to the Duckling and want you to bar the door after I leave. Don’t open it up for anyone you don’t know, and don’t ring the bell.” Meri gave Ola a stern look, who at least had the wherewithal to look sheepish.

  “Yes, Meri. But you should wait here! My ma should be back very soon, and the Hagathorns too! It will be much safer if you wait,” Ola pleaded, grasping Meri’s hand. Meri smiled at the skinny girl.

  “I will be just fine, Ola. If anyone bad were still around, they would have come back at the toll of the bell. I will be safe, but your parents expect you here. I need to go. But I will be back. I promise.”

  Merigold gave both girls long hugs, and it seemed as if Marissa would never let go. She did, though, and Meri left the taneory, Ola and Marissa at her heels. The morning sun pouring through the glass-covered ceiling openings illuminated the service room, and the rows of oaken-brown benches faced the simple alter covered in a beautiful lace cloth. Of course, there was the customary statue of Yetra, standing atop her stone, arms raised, that angelic look on her face as her silvery-white hair cascaded across her body. Merigold now had trouble looking at the statue, though she had spent so many days gazing at the goddess, listening to Taneo Marsh’s passionate, hypnotic sermons.

  A loud pounding at the doors to the chapel made Merigold jump, even as they’d been moving forward. Ola ran straight to the other side of the room with a yip while Marissa knelt behind a bench. Merigold found her hand on her knife, examining the barred wooden doors warily. There was another pound, followed shortly by a deep, masculine voice.

  “Marissa! Open up! We’re back!”

  Marissa, almost disbelievingly, leapt up and bounded toward the doors, looking much like a squirrel as she hopped over and around the benches. She struggled to lift the heavy bar, and although Meri realized that she should help, she found she was somehow paralyzed, unwilling or unable to face more people.

  Finally, the bar was removed, the doors heaved open. Marissa threw herself at her father, Leman Punter, a burly forester in his late thirties. Her mother, Jayna, joined the embrace, and Ola wasn’t far behind. Merigold felt a pang of jealousy as she stood alone in the service room, seeing the palpable love spread among the family. She tugged at her hair awkwardly, thinking what she must look like.

  After a moment, Marissa pulled away. “Ma, Pa. We found a survivor last night. Merigold came back!” Marissa excitedly gestured into the church, and Jayna scowled at her, while Leman gave her a brief, tired smile.

  “Aye, Merigold Hinter. Well met,” said Leman, either not noticing or ignoring his wife’s reaction. “We’ve found some folks, as well,” he said, stepping aside and gesturing with his meaty arm.

  Two men strode forward, each having a dazed look about them, looking rather like’d they’d been run down by a horse. The taller man stood with a slight hunch and wore a pair of spectacles—a rare luxury, but a necessity for his profession. Terrin Umber was a scribe, spending his days reproducing copies of The Book of Amorum for the Central Yetranian Church out of Hunesa, and he spent his nights reading whatever books he could find in the humble village. The shorter man—boy, really—had wild, brown hair covering his face. Merigold wouldn’t have been able to see his face anyway, as he’d immediately hung his head low. Chad Umber didn’t want to meet Merigold’s eyes.

  Rather than feel fear or shame at seeing one of her tormentors in person, Merigold hardened. She felt in control. She was no longer locked in the dark, alone and forgotten. No, Meri was free, and she was strong.

  “The Hagathorns back yet?” asked Leman, looking askance at Ola, who was intently examining her sleeve. The Umbers strode into the chapel behind the Punters.

  “No, not yet. I’m certain that they’ll be back soon,” said Marissa, obviously exaggerating her optimism for the sake of the younger girl.

  “I cannot believe this,” murmured Terrin to his son. “It’s unimaginable. Unnatural.” Meri still could not see Chad’s expression. He was completely focused on his father, keeping his gaze locked anywhere but in Merigold’s direction.

  “Aye, it is unnatural. Witchery, I’d say. And, isn’t it perfect that our resident witch has returned home,” spat Jayna Punter, watching Meri from slitted eyes. She was older than her husband by a few years, and had probably never had a haircut in her life. Her mousy braid hung nearly to the ground. “And I hear she is a whore, too. Just look at her—probably beaten by some man unwilling to pay.”

  Meri flinched at the words as if they were physical blows, feeling tears spring to her eyes. She could see Saren all over again, spitting on her and calling her a witch, a whore. As she had feared, it had
n’t taken long for the accusations to begin. After her warm greeting from Marissa and Ola, Meri had almost felt like she was at home, assuming she could forget about whatever had happened in Dunmore, itself. But already, Marissa’s mother had denounced her. She gripped her knife in her pocket and took a step back, fighting down her shame and anger.

  “Merigold Hinter is not a whore! Nor is she a witch!” Help from the most unexpected place—Chad Umber stood in front of her now, almost protectively.

  “What do you know, boy? My sister and niece are dead in the square! Did you see Evie out there? No? That’s because she was torn to bits!” The woman’s voice was raised, discordant. “And now this witch is here, with my daughter! Just like her father—a black soul!” cried Jayna, her voice escalating until she was nearly shrieking.

  “Jayna, please,” interrupted Lamen. “We know nothing of what happened here.”

  “Clear as day, it was dark magic!” Jayna said with conviction, her red-rimmed, swollen eyes firmly locked on Merigold, over Chad’s shoulder.

  Chad’s father stepped tentatively forward, but was studying the floor as if it were a tome. “Aye, it was magic. But, there’s no dark magic. Magic is only dark if the wielder decides to use it in such a fashion.”

  Jayna sputtered. “What do you know of magic? Do we have another witch on our hands?” She approached him aggressively, looking like a puffed-up owl trying to intimidate another.

  “Stay back from my pa!” said Chad, shifting to cover his father. Meri felt her lip curl at the boy’s sudden protective nature. Where was this nobility back in the cabin?

  “Jayna! We know the Umbers. They are good people. By Yetra, Terrin spends his days copying The Book of Amorum!” said Lamen, attempting to calm his wife with a restraining arm.

  “‘Evil often wears the guise of good.’ Ain’t those the words from that very book? ‘Trust not what you can see, for surely the truth lies deeper.’” Jayna tried to push aside Lamen’s arm, but his muscles were hardened from felling trees. Even a furious woman could not move him.