by B B Reed
Inka helped Halena up, a mixture of relief and terror shaking through her. The trio leaned against each other for support as they made their way through the field of gravestones. Halena’s eyes did not leave her warped, chitinous hands, struggling to comprehend the new flesh still being her own. Dorian’s ears twitched as they neared the edge of the grounds, and a rumbling growl thrummed in his chest as he stopped with hackles raised. Jeanne stopped, peering to the thicket of trees ahead of them. The feathered specter’s beak mask and hood were illuminated under the moonlight, blocking their path to the mansion.
“The Voice… What do you want from us? The monument is safe.” Jeanne questioned with bristled words.
A crooked finger lifted to point at Halena, its dry, shrill voice echoing out, “She still lives.”
“That she does. Are the Raven Lords displeased?” The noble answered flatly, patience thin for the cryptic games of her masters.
“You invite calamity on us and fail to ensure the grounds will not again be perverted. The witch broke her promise to keep her power shackled. She must be condemned as have your other failures.” The Voice hissed back, ravens gathering on the tree branches behind it.
Inka glowered, “Then take us all for this failure and be left with nobody to shelter you! We contained the demon and the monument was untouched. That should be enough.”
Lady Ravenwood tilted her chin up, smirking, “You forget the wisdom of our lords and the terms of our partnership. My retainers have been tested in the fires and losing their experience would only hinder us.”
She winced through an aching pain in her back and added, “Why don’t we parley?”
“Always pushing the limits of your service, child.”
“The soul stone, for Halena’s life. Keeping it only further endangers us.” Jeanne said, pulling the green gem from her belt and holding it up.
The specter shuffled closer, tilting its head, “So willing to give up that power? Perhaps, on one condition…”
It turned to Halena, plucking a bloody raven feather from its mantle, “She will not be protected by the blessings of the Raven Lords any longer. The covenant is broken.”
In a flash of ghostly fire, the bloodied feather evaporated into ashes before the witch, making her flinch. Though no eyes could be seen over the beaked mask of the Voice, she felt its glare bear down on her, “Nothing will save her soul from the darkest beings seizing it in death.”
Jeanne’s jaw set together and she held the stone out to the shade, “Fair enough, now take this and begone from us.”
The Voice chortled, dry and crackling as a crow’s call, plucking the stone from Jeanne’s fingers to be clasped in its withered hands, “Go, lick your wounds. Your offering will suffice.”
The ghost retreated to the trees, its form disappearing into a murder of crows that dispersed into the branches above. Jeanne swore under her breath and nudged her companions along on the long forest path, “Damn birds…”
XIV
Return to Session
Effectively shaken by her encounter with the demon named Marchosias, the normality of a retainer’s life appeared to be an impossible goal. Step by step, Halena came to terms with the outcome of that fateful evening. She had approached Jeanne about the soul stone’s disposal, only to hear that the Raven Lords were still silent on the matter. She had remained skittish, always fearful that she might hear the growls and whispers of her ever-present tormentor return. The witch kept to herself in the estate, continuing to catalog Lady Ravenwood’s collection of books on spirits, dark beasts, and other arcane anomalies recorded by past hunters and knights. Her reclusive work was satisfactory to Jeanne, using the calm to her advantage and draw out more leads gleaned from the masquerade. However, the noble wondered if the ordeal had left too great a mark on her retainer for her to serve her as other knights had. Requests for Halena to join them on trips to the capital for Ministry sessions were met with great reluctance and she was left on her own with the libraries while they rode to Arras Ando.
Over the following months, winter settled over Arram, frost licking the manicured lawn of the mansion and soon snow blanketing the land with its sparkling powder. When approached about another departure to the capital, Jeanne was met with a request to join them in their journey that week. Much to her surprise, the noble happily welcomed Halena’s companionship for the trip and had the mansion staff assist in packing her things for the long road ahead. The following morning, high in the townhouse of the Spine, the witch stood before the full mirror in her room, struggling to properly grip her hair to weave it into a braid. A merlot red gown wrapped around her chest, complete with a simple dress draped down to her feet. Her shoulders and arms were bare, the blackened flesh smooth and segmented as an insect’s shell. The transformed flesh ended midway of her upper arm, swirled tendrils curling and mixing with her pale skin. The woman’s spindly fingers curled and struggled to hold her hair properly to fold it, looking like a set of spider legs were attempting to braid the dark crimson fibers. Rapping erupted at her door, Inka’s voice ringing through, “May I come in, Halena?”
“It’s open.” She answered, groaning as her dark tresses slipped through her fingers.
Inka stepped inside, clad in her usual azure effects and both hands behind her back, “It’s going to fall out if you keep doing that. Would you like some help?”
Halena gave up, dropping her hands to her sides, “If you would, please.”
The scholar presented a flat box around Halena’s side, “You can open this in the meantime.” She reached for the witch’s brush and began tending to the dark, cinnamon red mane of hair.
Halena stared down at the box, eyes flicking up to Inka in the mirror’s reflection, “This is for me? You didn’t have to.”
“Yes, I did,” Inka insisted, beginning to fold the woman’s hair in her fingers, “It’s the holiday season after all, and an early gift never hurts.”
The wrapping paper was no match against the sharp tips of Halena’s fingers and she let the colorful green paper fall to the floor. She hooked her black nail under the edge of the box and lifts to reveal a brilliant crimson length of cloth complete with a green gemstone pendant.
“Is this a scarf?” She asked, gingerly lifting it from the box to drape it between both hands.
“Mhm!” Inka tutted and scoffed as she found her weaving of the braid uneven. She ruffled Halena’s hair and began brushing it out again, “Wear it whenever you like. Consider it my late housewarming gift for you living with us.”
Halena turned to face Inka, smiling at her, “It’s beautiful. I will wear it, thank you.”
Inka stared at her for a long moment, touching the back of the brush against her chin in thoughtful contemplation.
“Why don’t you let your hair hang loose? It looks much better this way.” She reached up to give the top and front of Halena’s hair a few strokes with the brush to make it lie properly.
“I… I don’t know. I’ve just always braided it. Do you think it looks fine let down?” Halena blinked, allowing her companion to do her work.
Inka turned the witch around to look at herself in the mirror, “I think it suits you. You look like the woman I’ve come to know.”
“What do you mean?” She asked, appraising her adjusted style. Her dark mahogany red hair folded down her head and over her shoulders in feathered layers, part of her sweeping bangs just barely folding over her eye. Though it appeared wilder and more unkempt, something about Inka’s suggestion resonated in her.
“You look… relaxed like that, if a touch dramatic.” Inka offered a smile into the mirror. She reached around the witch to help her in folding the crimson scarf about her shoulders, applying the oval emerald pin to hold it together.
The witch soaked up her image. Her figure filled out her dress, unlike her party gown that had fit so loosely on her willowy frame. Her hips and chest held some curve to them now, pale skin radiant. The thick tresses of waving hair faintly shined in the ligh
t pouring in from the window, the dark locks vibrant with faint cinnamon tones. She almost did not recognize the whole picture as herself and her eyes sunk back down to her sharp claws, “I suppose that’s a word for it.”
Inka set the brush on Halena’s desk, “I’m sure I could come up with better words.” She grinned, “I was worried for you, that the exorcism would have taken parts of you away. Seems like the opposite effect has happened. Not living job-to-job and regular meals have done wonders for your health.”
“It is a liberating feeling, having my thoughts to myself after so many years unwillingly sharing them.” The witch admitted, drawing her eyes back up to Inka, “The quiet is nice.”
“Does this mean you’re ready to share what’s been churning in that head now that your reclusive spell is done?” Inka asked with a coy smirk and eyebrow raised.
Halena picked up two long maroon sleeves, the colors matching the under-skirt flowing beneath her merlot dress, and gingerly slipped each one up her arm, “There is one thought I’d like to share.”
The lace hems provided the perfect illusion to cover the twisted marks on her upper arms, cuffs folded and long enough to conceal her sharp black fingers. She took a step towards Inka, reaching her hand out and the scholar took it, then the other rested overtop. The witch’s smile returned as her violet eyes remained locked with Inka’s, “I owe you my life, and being near you stirs these feelings I’ve never had before. You look at me in a way few others do, as if you’re seeing the woman behind this crimson masque. Your kindness is only matched by your beauty.”
Inka’s cheeks darkened at Halena’s words, and her fingers tightened around her hands, “You’re too sweet.”
“There are many things that make me strange in this land. I suppose my heart fluttering for another woman is just another of those oddities. I am not ashamed of it.” She added with warmth in her voice.
“Neither am I.” Inka answered, releasing Halena’s fingers and reaching to cup her hands over the witch’s cheeks. They drew closer, lips brushing together until they united in a warm kiss. Halena’s sleeved arms wrapped around Inka, holding her tightly while they savored the closeness, warmth, and softness of each other’s lips.
Inka rolled back down onto her heels as they broke the kiss, cheeks still hot with blush, “I better see to helping Wallace prepare dinner.”
Halena nodded, a sheepish smile on her lips, “Thank you again for the scarf… and everything else.”
“It’s my pleasure.” Inka winked, heading for the door. She stopped herself in the doorway, “Oh, right… You better go see Lady Jeanne before she leaves for session. She wanted to ask you some questions.”
She disappeared through the door and Halena brushed her black nails over her hot cheek, head swimming and her heart pounding. Another glance into the mirror reaffirmed the witch of Inka’s words, even pulling her shoulders back to match the powerful high coursing through her bones. She gave a quick flip of her hair and stepped out into the upstairs hallway to pay her host a visit. Her hardened knuckles rapped against the noblewoman’s room door, making the unlatched door swing open a few inches. Halena eased it open farther, peering her head inside, “Lady Ravenwood?”
“Good, I was wondering what took Inka so long.” Jeanne quipped from across the room, adjusting the straps of her sling and buckling them into place, “Are you dressed and presentable enough to walk out in public?”
Halena tilted her head, walking across the room to join her lady’s side, “Yes, I am. Why do you ask?”
Lady Ravenwood picked up a dark blue jacket to throw over her doublet and paused to examine Halena’s attire. She nodded with approval, “That’s good enough.” Jeanne got her good arm through one sleeve, “If you’re feeling well enough, and think you can muster the nerve, I’d like you to join me on a little walk.”
The witch inclined her head, “I see no harm in that. Ah, would you like help?”
Jeanne shrugged her shoulder, the jacket fitting across her back with sleeve of her bad arm left to dangle, “Unnecessary.”
The noble snatched up her cane, a dark carved wooden replacement with a brass raven’s head capping the top, and took the lead out of the room, “Come, we burn daylight.”
Halena followed behind her, stepping down the stairs and retrieving a warm shawl to throw over her shoulders and head while Jeanne was helped into a long coat. Lady Ravenwood raised her voice, “Don’t wait up for me or Halena. She’s with me today.”
Wallace hurried from the dining room, dabbing a towel over his hands, “Ah, very well, my Lady. We’ll see you for dinner.”
The pair stepped out into the opulent chilled streets of the Spine, cleared of snow and ice by the meticulous care of its groundskeepers. Jeanne’s movements were stiff and she grumbled, “Damn this cold for reminding me of my age,”
The noblewoman let out a clouded huff, “I was wondering when you’d join the rest of us in the present. We worried perhaps we didn’t act quickly enough to save your soul from being ripped apart.”
Halena pulled the shawl tighter around herself to keep the brisk wind at bay and glanced over to her friend, “I’m grateful for the sacrifice, Lady Ravenwood. Truly. It’s been… difficult coming to terms with the damage and the changes that’s come with it.” Her lips tightened together, a pang of grief wracking through her chest, “Liam didn’t deserve the fate the demon brought upon him.”
“The demon…” Lady Jeanne echoed, her dark eyes carefully observing Halena’s reaction. She inclined her head in begrudging agreement, “Yes, cruel and foul beings they are. Liam won’t be forgotten and we’ve done the best we can to honor his memory with a proper ceremony for his family.”
The witch’s eyes grew misty in the cold, making her eyelashes stick together. Jeanne’s voice jerked her from the guilty spiral, “There’s so much work to be done yet, my dear. We take time to mourn, but we must press forward.”
Lady Ravenwood motioned to the lift car with her cane, urging Halena to climb inside. She filed in behind, issuing her order to the lift attendant, “To the House of Ministers.”
The attendant lifted his chin with confusion, and quickly registered Jeanne’s features, “Yes, of course, Lady Ravenwood.”
He cranked the lever up to the second notch from the top, making the car jostle as the chains began to pull it upwards into the Spine’s heights. Halena’s fingers clicked together out of nervousness and she closed her eyes, trying to keep herself from lingering on the magnitude of their ascent.
“Why are we going so high, Lady Ravenwood?”
Jeanne adjusted her coat, pulling the furs closer together, “Ministry session today and you’re coming with me.”
Halena’s heart jumped in her chest, then again when the lift car’s momentum slowed, “You said this was going to be a walk. What will the Ministry think if they see me?”
“Whatever they please, it’s not my concern. After our previous… exchange, I realized that I wasn’t as transparent as I should have been. As a show of good faith, I invite you to join me as an advisor at my side during these sessions when I desire it. Given what you discovered during the masquerade ball, you could benefit from seeing these officials in action.” Jeanne said, the lift car rocking to a stop and locking in place. The gate rattled open and the noble flashed Halena a smirk, “Do you accept?”
The witch watched Jeanne take a step out onto the landing of the elevator, digesting her words. Even in the cold, she felt warm in the confident aura of her lady’s presence. Pride swelled in Halena’s chest and she answered, “As you said, there’s so much work to be done.”
She stepped off the car and followed Jeanne into the alien heights of the Spine. The vaulted halls leading out from the landing made every whisper heard and echoes rattle for minutes. Looming overhead as the pair traversed the great walk, pale statues watched them. Halena lifted her head to examine the likenesses of each, noting striking familiarities. Wings, two pairs of arms, and unreal visages.
&nbs
p; Five statues in total, the first pair, feminine in build, the left holding a horn and lyre in both pairs of hands, and a blindfold wrapped over her eyes. Its opposite, somber in appearance, yet gentle, held her hands in strange ceremonial form with one pair in front of her chest, and the other raised in welcoming. She panned between the second set of statues, both of masculine shape. A robed man with thin, slender limbs, all four hands grasping a staff topped with a star, and a perfectly round cranium stood watch across from what appeared to be a soldier, crossing themselves with a sword and sickle while wielding a mace and axe at its sides. Nothing could be made out beneath the sallet sitting atop its featureless head. In final welcome, a grand angel with a lion’s head and holding a crown in its hands stood watch over the main entries of the hall.
Jeanne pushed the door open to reveal a great circular forum lined with seats of ministers already gathered for meeting. Stained glass windows let sparkling hues bleed in, adorned with depictions of previously crowned rulers making quorum with representatives and treaties being signed. Before the whole gathering at the front of the domed auditorium sat a small collection of podiums and lecterns seated with white-haired men of great status by the make of their fine clothes. The badges on their coats depicted a crown, unlike the other symbols Halena had seen in the company of nobles.
She followed Lady Jeanne through the second to last row on the far end of the forum, pulling her shawl down and folding it over her black hands. The noblewoman pulled a second chair forward for her guest and they seat themselves. Farther down the section, the familiar pairing of the imposing blonde steward and Lord Calyrien’s decrepit form shuffled through to take their seats. Soon, Halena picked out other familiarities in their midst. Edward followed in with the brother of the Blackmoore family down to their right, then her blood chilled as Lord Caleb Vaughn and Lady Elspeth entered from the doors across the room. Jeanne watched Halena turn pallid and rested a hand on the woman’s sleeve, “Calm yourself. Nothing will happen. The worst thing you could do in a room of politicians is show weakness.”