Deception of the Damned

by P C Darkcliff

  “I won’t deal with you again; do you hear me?” Hrot shouted hysterically. But then, when he saw the Emissary turn to leave, he blurted out, “Wait! Let’s talk about this!”

  IT WAS A BEAUTIFUL, sunlit afternoon of the winter solstice. But it was so freezing cold that Jasmin had to build a high fire in the middle of the cavern to keep warm. Hrot winced whenever he saw her shudder. He knew his times were much colder.

  Today, Jasmin was going to travel to the decade after his disappearance from the tribe. Was his mother still alive to defend Jasmin? What would happen if Mother was already dead? Although he’d told Jasmin to buy a bagful of gilded trinkets to hand out, Hrot wasn’t sure if it was enough to convince the chieftain to admit her into the village. She was also going to take her lighter. Hrot knew, however, that even the highest fire wouldn’t help her survive alone in the frozen wilderness.

  Jasmin shuddered again, and she added another log to the fire. Hrot groaned and squinted so as not to cry. What on earth had he done?

  “Don’t despair, my dear,” Jasmin said, her eyes glowing with tenderness. “You’ll be a free man this evening. Your suffering will be finally over.”

  He gulped and nodded. The fire murmured and crackled as though it were willing him to speak up. The smoke coiled as if to give him a contemptuous look before it escaped through the cavern’s mouth. Hrot stared at the ground, feeling like a worm.

  He knew he was worthless, especially in comparison with this incredibly noble young woman. Jasmin had bought him clothes to put on once he’d become a man of flesh and bones, and she’d booked ten nights at her hostel, full board. She worried about him more than she worried about herself. And that made him feel even worse.

  He finally found the strength to speak, but he wouldn’t look into her eyes. “My suffering will be over, but yours will begin. And that makes me wretched. There’s still time to change your mind, Jasmin. I told you that you have no obligation—”

  “I promised to do it, and I mean to see it through,” she interrupted. Although she tried to sound firm, she still couldn’t believe she’d agreed to the Emissary’s horrid proposal.

  Unfortunately, spending a year in Hrot’s dark times wasn’t, by far, the worst part of the deal: she would never see Hrot again, for he would die next year, while she traveled back to the present. And that filled her with so many contrasting feelings she feared her heart would burst into pieces.

  Watching her green eyes fill with tears, Hrot said, “You don’t have to do it, Jasmin. My times are deadly and dangerous. I can’t expect you to risk your life for me. You don’t have to cry about it.”

  “I’m not crying because of the hardship and danger,” she said as she wiped her eyes. He thought he could hear a tinge of indignation vibrate in her voice.

  “Is it because of the Emissary, then?” he asked. “Are you afraid of him?”

  “No!” she snapped. Then she burst into tears.

  Meeting Hrot had plunged her heart into chaos. Sid had been dead for just a year, and she’d always thought she would never find someone to replace him. Or at least not so soon. She knew Sid had loved her with all his heart, and she felt unworthy of his love. And that made her mad.

  “I love—you, don’t you understand?” she burst out, her voice accusing, as though she were charging Hrot with a crime. “I’m prepared to spend a year in your times, and I’m not afraid of the Emissary. But I can’t bear the thought of losing you, of knowing that you won’t be here when I return. I’ve already lost one man I loved, and it makes me physically sick to think that I’m about to lose another one.”

  Hrot was so stunned he couldn’t speak. When he finally found his words, his voice was barely audible over the hum of the fire. “You love me?”

  “I do. I know our love is impossible, and I feel so guilty because of poor Sid. But I can’t control my feelings.”

  “I love you, too, Jasmin,” he groaned. “If you only knew how much I . . .” Tears drowned his words, and he could only sob. Jasmin was perhaps the first woman who had loved him in his long and wretched life. And he knew her love would soon decay into hatred.

  He was just trying to summon the courage to tell her everything when a gust of wind brought a tremendous squeal into the cave. Hundreds of small hooves pummeled the woods. The fire roared in anger. The Emissary was here.

  “So you are not afraid of me, my beauty?” the Emissary asked with a sneer. “We shall see about that!” He outstretched his hand to her. “Now say goodbye to this wimp. It’s time to go to the portal.”

  Jasmin turned to Hrot and burst into tears. “I can’t even hug you!”

  Hrot wailed in despair. But it wasn’t just the tragedy of losing her that agonized him: it was also the sense of immense self-loathing. He’d never told Jasmin that the Emissary had visited him for the second time this past autumn equinox. He’d been too cowardly to tell her about the amendment they’d made to the pact. And now it was too late.

  Hrot fell to his knees and screamed when the Emissary took Jasmin by the wrist and led her toward the river.

  PART THREE

  THE DECEPTION

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Although she was almost sure she’d opened her eyelids, Jasmin saw nothing. It was as if someone had clasped a frigid hand over her eyes. Another hand seemed to be blocking her mouth and nose, and she found it impossible to take a breath. Claustrophobia stomped over her recumbent body. A muffled scream rattled in her throat.

  She tried to lift her head. Specks of gray began to swarm in the blackness, reminding her of skies clearing after a nocturnal storm. She tried again, and this time she managed to break through the layer of snow that had been covering her face. An unrestricted dose of oxygen rushed into her lungs. It was foul and putrid, though, and she coughed and retched as she scrambled out of the freezing cradle that had nearly become her tomb.

  Covering her mouth and nose with a scarf, she looked around. The lifeless woods seemed to be watching her in the gloom of advancing evening. Her eyes alighted on the bizarre rock she had traversed, and memories rushed into her head: the fire blazing in front of the rock and the blood running from the cut on her thumb; the roar as the rock ruptured and the overpowering force that dragged her through the portal.

  She remembered stumbling out of the portal and falling on her back. It had been snowing heavily then—large, filthy snowflakes that stung her face like acid—but she’d been unable to move. She must have fainted, and the thick duvet of snow had nearly suffocated her. This was her first close encounter with death in Hrot’s times. She wondered how many more she would have to suffer in the following three hundred and sixty-five days.

  The wind picked up. It seemed to curse her with a malicious whisper. The stench of a rotting carcass slithered up her nostrils. A wild herd of leprous swine stampeded by. When she looked closer, she noticed the bloodstains on the snow and the red icicles hanging from the bare branches. Sickness and death seeped from every trunk.

  Jasmin rushed south where, according to Hrot, she would find the ford across the river. She groaned in pain as she dragged herself through the thorny undergrowth. Unclean fog rolled all around her like a dying serpent, and strange shadows moved among the decaying trees; they seemed to laugh and murmur. Jasmin sighed in relief when she heard the wild stream. Soon she found the ten black stepping stones.

  The air cleared as soon as she crossed to the other bank. The woods there were thick and vigorous. The snowy dunes that rolled among the trees were shiny like heaps of quartz. A countless pack of deer leaped and galloped nearby, their white tails flashing in the gloom like the raised swords of a cavalry.

  A distant sound made her halt. Although it was too weak to identify, the sound was disquieting, like a cry of pain or a shout of hatred that hovered just above the threshold of her hearing range. The worst thing was that the sound hadn’t come from the wrong side of the river but from the sandstone rock labyrinth. The ensuing silence seemed equally terrible.

 
It wasn’t snowing anymore, and the clouds were starting to dissipate. The sky was dark gray, except for a lighter smear in the west. Jasmin had to hurry downstream if she wanted to find the fisherman’s path and climb up to the village before nightfall. If she was to survive the first night, she had to find Hrot’s tribe. She hoped Lesana was still alive.

  As she plowed on, she heard it again. This time, the sound was much stronger. It echoed ominously throughout the sandstone maze. At first, she thought it was the wind howling in the treetops. But when she listened more carefully, a blade of terror hacked into her spine.

  Wolves. Wolves were about.

  Jasmin kept struggling forward. Panic made her stray from the river. The night grew much darker under the thick canopy of the woods, and she often stumbled into thorny shrubs and scraped her skin against the bark of trees. The eerily beautiful, yet sinister and dreadful howling seemed to be coming from all around her.

  The sharp wind clawed its way through her winter coat and snow pants, and even through the layers of clothing she was wearing underneath. The howling ceased, but the sounds she heard now were much more dreadful: dozens of light legs scurrying over the hard snow. They were right behind her. A growl rose out of a hungry throat. It rushed through a set of sharp teeth that were designed to rip their victims apart, limb by limb, and out of a maw that was twice as strong as that of Panzer’s Doberman.

  Jasmin knew from Hrot that the tribesmen regularly hunted wolves for their fur. It was probably the wolves’ fear that she might be armed that had kept them back so far. An angered growling and yelping told her that two or three of the beasts had turned on each other in frustration. But not all of them were so shy.

  She screamed when a pair of jaws snapped an inch from her hip. The wolves were encircling her. Her heart thumped as if it wanted to punch its way out of her doomed body.

  At that moment, another wolf pack began to howl somewhere in the depths of the woods. The beasts around her froze and listened. To her relief, they turned to join in a new hunt—or to defend their territory.

  UNABLE TO FIND HER way back to the river, Jasmin spent a sleepless night in the woods, guarded by a roaring bonfire. At dawn, she managed to retrace her steps, and finally she found the fisherman’s path. Relief and apprehension squeezed her stomach as she crossed the white pastures and walked toward the palisade.

  A man charged at her from the gate, brandishing a spear. He was wearing a long fur coat, with the hood pulled down to his wild eyes. He had a flat, ruddy nose and a long, waxed mustache that drooped over his curly beard. “Who are you? What do you want in here?” He yelled so savagely she could hardly understand him.

  Jasmin was surprised to see this guard: Hrot had never mentioned the gates were manned, although he’d told her all he could about the tribe. He couldn’t know that two years ago, a nomadic horde had besieged and razed the village. The tribespeople now lived in constant fear.

  “I’m friends with Hrot,” she called, making a few steps back.

  The man stopped and lowered the spear. “Hrot’s dead. He’s been gone for years.”

  “He’s not dead!” she protested. “He’s alive but far away.”

  “He left the tribe, so he’s dead for us!” the man sneered. She could see that his teeth had rotted away to brownish stumps that made them look like decaying wooden piers. “Now get out of here!”

  “Please, let me speak to the chieftain. Or to Lesana.”

  “I told you to go!” he screamed, lifting the spear again.

  Jasmin despaired. As much as she dreaded living among these people, she knew she wouldn’t survive long outside the palisade.

  Then she recalled what Hrot had told her about the tribespeople’s greed. She reached into her shoulder bag. “This is yours if you let me in,” she said, pulling out a gilded bracelet.

  The man’s lips stretched in an avaricious grin. His eyes flashed as much as the ornament. He snatched the bracelet and stuck it under his coat. Jasmin held her breath. Was he going to search her for more gold? There was nothing to stop him from stealing everything and chasing her away. Fortunately, he grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her past the gate and into the village.

  Although she was relieved to be inside, Jasmin’s heart sank as she watched the filthy, fur-clad savages scurry out of their hovels like rats from their holes. Hrot had told her to prepare for the worst, but this was more terrible than she had imagined. A huge crowd gathered and trailed behind them as they headed for the square. Everyone was yelling and shoving. They stank worse than the most forsaken beggars of her time.

  “Call the chieftain!” the guard shouted. “And all the patriarchs!”

  Before long, all the villagers gathered around them by the ceremonial hearth. They stared at her as if she were an exotic animal. Children crept forward to pull at the hem of her coat, and then they ran back and hid in the crowd. A large snowball smashed hard against the back of her head. The children, and even some adults, guffawed and slapped their thighs in merriment. Jasmin lowered her head, trying hard not to cry. The bedlam only subsided when a group of elderly men walked up to her.

  “What is the commotion?” the eldest of them demanded, his mean, round eyes flashing with rage. It was Hrot’s uncle, Jelen, who had become the chieftain when his predecessor had died in the nomadic raid. By now, Jelen was shriveled and hunched. Only three or four crooked teeth protruded from behind his thin lips. But he was as spiteful as ever.

  “I came to seek shelter,” Jasmin said. “I have nowhere to go. And my friend Hrot told me you would let me stay with you for a while.”

  “Hrot?” an old woman exclaimed. She stepped toward them, but Jelen motioned her to go back. The woman halted and burst into tears. So did some of the children that had followed her. The crowd grumbled.

  Jelen turned back to Jasmin. “Hrot has always been a fool. Why on earth would he think we would let you stay among us? Nobody outside the clans has ever lived in here. You’re not related to any of us. And we hate strangers.”

  “But I’ve brought gold!” Jasmin opened the shoulder bag. “It’s yours if you let me stay.”

  Even if she’d suddenly stripped down in front of his eyes, Jelen couldn’t have been more stunned. All around her, people stared and muttered. Everyone made a step or two forward. The crowd swayed and rippled like a greedy, filthy wave.

  “Wait here!” Jelen ordered and motioned the patriarchs to follow him to the longhouse.

  The old woman shuffled to Jasmin, leaving heavily on a stick. She had greasy white hair and a toothless, whiskered face lined with deep worry lines. Five children trailed shyly behind her. None of them was crying now.

  “I’m Lesana,” the old woman said. “Dear Hrot might have told you about me if he wasn’t too ashamed of his old mother. Is he really alive? Is he really well?”

  Jasmin nearly staggered with relief. “Yes, Lesana, he’s alive and well. He can’t return right now, though, as he’s embarked on a journey to faraway lands. He sent me instead, to make sure you are still well. I’m Jasmin. And he has told me much about you.”

  Lesana dropped the stick, took Jasmin’s hands, and pressed them to her whiskered lips. Her tears streamed all over the sleeve of Jasmin’s coat. Jasmin freed her hands and hugged her.

  “That dear little boy,” Lesana whimpered. “He always wanted to travel, so he must be content now. But how I miss him! I used to be so happy when we were all together, my husband, my seven children, and me. Then my eldest daughters got married and left the hut. Then Hrot disappeared, and my husband died shortly afterward. Two winters ago, the nomads killed my two eldest sons. They took away my youngest daughter, those nomads, and I don’t know whether she’s still alive.”

  Jasmin stroked Lesana’s hair. What misfortunes this poor woman had suffered. If she only knew that Hrot had spent centuries as a wretched, fleshless soul, a living corpse that was to vanish after a short year of a normal life. She knew Lesana was going to ask her hundreds of questions. Jasmin woul
d spend a year of making up tales.

  “Only one son survived, but his wife is dying.” Lesana said. Then she nodded toward the children. “These little critters, they are all his. None of them is over ten yet, and they’ll soon be orphans. My son is a logger and trapper, and he spends most of his time in the woods. And I, a frail, old crone, have to take care of his wife and these critters.”

  Jasmin said, “I would help you with everything if you let me stay with you.”

  Lesana smiled wistfully. “I would love to have you here, dear girl, even if it was just for Hrot’s sake. But it’s up to the chieftain and the patriarchs to decide.”

  “Why?” Jasmin wondered. “It’s your hut, isn’t it? Can’t you simply tell the patriarchs you’re taking me in?”

  “It’s not that easy, dear.” Lesana gave her a patient smile. “I have to listen to the elders, just like anyone else in this village. Everybody knows their place around here, and you’ll have to know yours if you want to live among us. The patriarchs are wise, and the chieftain is my brother. Let’s hope he’ll remember my hardship while he makes his decision. But here they come.”

  Lesana grasped Jasmin’s hand as Jelen and the patriarchs approached. Jasmin felt short of breath. She knew the chieftain’s refusal would most certainly be her death sentence.

  “The council of elders has reached an agreement,” Jelen said pompously, facing the crowd as if Jasmin wasn’t there.

  Jasmin prepared for the worst. She already imagined herself being dragged out of the village and having the heavy gate shut in her face.

  “We have decided to let the strange woman stay,” Jelen continued, and she felt dizzy with relief. “She must, however, relinquish the gold to me and the elders. She’s to live in Lesana’s home and help her to take care of her sick daughter-in-law and her small grandchildren. She’ll be also required to work in the fields and do any other communal task necessary. She’ll be under my direct command. If she displeases me, she’ll be banned from our village forever.”