“Oh, really? How old is he?”
“Well, it’s been sixteen years since I’ve seen him, so he should be an adult now. In his twenties, I think.”
“I hope you find him.”
“It might be too late… He’s going to die.”
“Oh my. Is he sick?”
“Yes. Or actually, he will be if not already.”
She leaned forward to hear his gravelly voice better. “How do you know he’s going to be sick?”
“I read it in the stars.”
Kalea reared her head back, tempted to ask aloud how the stars could predict anything. “The Creator decides when we die,” she said instead.
He smiled. “I’d like to be there for him when it happens. I owe him that much.”
She reached out. “Give me your hands.”
“Why?”
“It’s important. Please.” The mercyman eyed her hands before he obliged. “What’s your name?”
“Ibex.”
His hands numbed hers on contact. “Bow your head now.” He did, and she commenced her prayer. “Our Creator, please help my friend, Ibex, to find his son. Please be merciful, and delay his son’s death long enough to complete the reunion. Nonetheless, we always accept your judgment in matters of life and death. When it does happen, please accept his son, and all of us, into your loving embrace. Amen.”
“Amen.”
When she raised her head again, Ibex was studying her face closely with a bemused expression.
His voice withered to a whisper. “How can I repay such kindness, lass?”
Kalea leaned back. “You don’t repay it. You walk in the Creator’s light and help others to see it with you.”
“I’m a mercyman… I’ll remember you.”
She stood up. “No need to remember me, sir.” She took the empty bowl and walked away.
Kalea slogged through the rest of the day at the hospital, doing dirty chores and jumping in to help the residents remember to pray for the well-being of the hospital’s donors—as they were all required to do. After about the first two, she took their hands and prayed with them instead for the Creator’s mercy in the face of the impending famine.
Swapping her apron again for her cloak, she set out for the convent at dusk. She shot for the alleys to make the trip as fast as possible. She had spent extra time at the hospital and would soon violate her curfew. All novices and vestals were supposed to return before nightfall.
Midway through one of the last alleyways, the fiery sunset at the end snuffed out wall to wall. “‘Ello, love,” someone with a gruff voice said.
Kalea squinted, and her words slid out weakly. “Who are you? Father Rayum?”
“Don’t you recognize me as no damn priest?”
She looked him over for weapons or anything he could be plotting, but his form was too dark against the backlighting.
“I been looking for you.”
Her heart sped up. “Oh no. Are you…?”
“That’s right, love. I’m the one you so wickedly assaulted. See what you did to my face?”
She shook her head. “I’m…sorry. I acted completely on impulse. I suffered a moment of confusion and weakness.”
“I guess such a thing can be expected from you loony convent girls.”
“We’re not loony, sir, we’re…”
“I don’t care what you are.”
She swallowed, and the difficulty hurt her throat. Her voice came hoarse after all the praying she had done with the hospital residents for the oncoming famine. “I did my penance.” The gashes on her back throbbed now with the intensity of her heartbeat, making the events of the other day flood back into the front of her mind.
The man stepped forward, and she took a small step back. “How did you know it was me?”
“Oh, I asked around a lot yesterday. Though you covered your face, the witnesses and I worked together to deduce the tall, willowy novice’s identity. Though a lot of you touched-in-the-head girls come here out of the woods, there’s one in particular with such a small waist and graceful arms and silky brown hair like yours.”
“Did you just mention my waist?” She darted a look behind her. “I told you, I did my penance, and the Sanctity of Creation will vouch for me. But what can I do to make it up to you, sir?”
“Kemp. Kemp Hydenman is my name. I heard all that. I been to the court yesterday, and your Sanctified people did vouch for you. But I can still think of a compensation you can offer to mend things between us.”
As she paced steadily backward and he closed on her, the lantern light washed over his face. His eyes were both ringed in black, turning to purple by now, and his nose leaned to the side. The air struggled loudly through his nasal passages.
“I’ll say it again, I’m sorry!” she said. “It was pure impulse. Blame it on mental illness if you want. I’m sorry about the evil thing I did to you!”
He stepped forward again, eyes beaming wide and vacant. Another step and he towered over her, his big, round beer belly jutting forward. “Gimme a few minutes and there’ll be no hard feelings.”
Kalea’s stomach churned. “A few minutes for what?”
A greasy smile spread across his scratchy face. His rancid ale breath steamed out with each word he spoke. He must’ve drunk the whole night since yesterday’s court ruling.
“Look at’cha.” His voice drawled and croaked. “I’m glad it was you. There’s something special about you. I knew it the day you hit me and broke my nose.”
“I don’t understand.”
Kalea turned and sprang the opposite way. He grabbed her arm, and a painful jolt shot through it. He twisted it behind her using a massive amount of might to defeat hers. With a scratchy rope from his belt, he tied her hands behind her back and covered her mouth with his huge hand to stop her from screaming.
When he pressed her against the stone wall, his blatant sinful ways rubbed against her and he smiled, watching for a reaction. His hand reached around to her rear. She whimpered and squirmed, gasping for some air, but he didn’t seem lucid enough to notice. Or care.
The force crushed her hands against the cold, rough wall behind her. This did no good for the gashes on her back. Her penance was complete. Was the Creator not satisfied with her lash wounds?
“If you scream again, I’ll kill you,” he said before removing his hand from her mouth.
She wept. “Please—”
His weight squeezed off her voice. She could no longer hope to scream. He tore the short veil off her head, allowing her hair to cascade around her shoulders. He shuddered and grabbed it tight in his fist and jerked, forcing Kalea to raise her chin. He licked her sweat, and she gagged at the feeling of the slimy tongue slipping across her throat and behind her ears. Meanwhile, his other hand mashed finger-shaped bruises into her flesh, squeezing any part of her he could grab.
“Enjoy it while it lasts, love. You’ll thank me later—I know how frigid you God-lovin’ loonies are. A mistake if you ask me,” he said into her ear and grabbed at her dress to lift its hem.
Soon she’d live those drawings in Vivene’s book, though she wasn’t supposed to. The images flashed in her head, images of horror now instead of curiosity. A terrible sin against her Creator and her position in the convent. If they found out about this, they’d throw her out in the street. She’d become a new resident in the hospital if her parents didn’t take her back. Losing her virginity would ruin her value as a bride too.
She mustered the strength to let out a short scream despite his warning. He grunted and pulled her hair more but slowed his advances.
“That’s how you want to do it, huh?” Pinning her to the wall with his hand around her throat, he retrieved the fallen veil. “Pity. I wanted to hear you moan.”
She fought to exhaustion, trapped between his body and the wall as he hastily wrapped her own veil around her head and tied it too tightly.
“Let’s speed this along,” he whispered, and loosened the drawstring on his leggings
while lifting her dress again.
Despite the gag between her teeth, Kalea pushed out one more flimsy, will-driven squeal.
“I told you not to scream!” His meaty arm reared back for a heavy slap. Kalea winced.
The expected force was redirected to the side. Kemp toppled over and crashed to the ground like a dead tree. Kalea gasped for air through the gag, filling her lungs. Another person rose to a stand between her and Kemp, a familiar person with shoulders squared, fists tight, and a sturdy, wide stance.
Dorhen Sufferborn. He must’ve pushed Kemp over.
“Now I get it,” Kemp said from the ground.
The elf stared him down, his reflective blue-green eyes afire with rage.
“You’re still around. And now you wanna steal my screw.”
Dorhen placed his left hand against the wall and held it there.
“I’ll bet you’ve already had her before. The two of you meet in the shadows a lot, don’t ya? A loony girl like her can’t grasp the law against stealing, so how could she be expected to know the decency of keeping her legs together? Must be why she helped you escape. She knows you.”
Sneering, Dorhen grabbed the man by the shirt, hauled him to his feet, and slammed his right fist into his face. Kemp’s cheekbone shattered as if hit by a rock. As the large man reeled on his feet, Dorhen flung rocks at his face. Kemp wailed as a pebble hit his eye.
Where had the rocks come from?
Kalea leapt to the side as a small section of the wall foundation spontaneously cracked where Dorhen’s hand had touched.
After struggling to his feet, Kemp balled his fists, tensing all the muscles in his arms. He swung. Dorhen ducked and followed through with an arcing kick, swiping his opponent’s sore nose. Afterward, he slipped a deep side kick into Kemp’s gut, sending him back to the ground. Before Kemp could rise again, Dorhen propelled himself forward and dropped a heel onto his groin. The man screamed and curled into a ball.
Dorhen grasped his own hair in a fist for an instant, then turned back to Kalea to untie her gag and wrist ties. “I must stop or I’ll kill him! Arius Medallus said never to kill! People will be here soon anyway. C’mon.”
No one lingered around in the next alley so they made a wild dash, stomping feet echoing through the narrow space. This time Dorhen led the way. Walls and objects became smears of vibrating colors in her vision. Every time she made a whimpering sound, his hand tightened around hers. As slimy as their sweating hands grew, he wouldn’t let go. The frantic adrenaline kept her going. All she knew in each long minute was the memory of Kemp’s breath and the hard feeling of his body crushing her against the wall.
Even when she began to slow, Dorhen kept her moving at full speed. When she attempted to turn a certain corner, eager to find a guard or someone helpful, he pulled her the other way with some other plan in mind. Out of her wits, she failed to note which route they took through town.
A tiny hint of relief crept over her mind when she saw the long grassy field and line of trees on the horizon: the protective forest which housed her convent.
They broke into the fields for a long desperate sprint toward the cover of the trees. Kalea finally gave in to sobbing as they reached the forest. She tore her hand away from his and ran off in another direction.
“Wait!”
She ignored him. The sun sank halfway past the horizon and a cool shadow crept over the land. She swallowed to loosen her throat, wiped her face, and chained up any more emotion wanting to pour out. Now where had she wound up? Clenching her hot eyes closed, she tried to picture which landmarks they had passed on the way out. Her memory was a tangle of fear and desperation.
Her voice trembled. “I don’t know.” She was lost. And that elf was out there, probably looking for her. She turned her head toward north and then west. Which way? She closed her eyes again as her throat tightened. Crying would help nothing.
“Kalea!”
She jumped and whirled to find the elf behind her.
“No!” she yelled, and took off again.
“Wait! You’ll get lost!”
Oh no, he really is chasing me! “Stay away!”
The sun disappeared below the horizon, leaving behind a temporary residual orange glow in the sky and making way for the approach of a cold, heavy darkness that would soon bathe the forest in its brisk essence. If she wasn’t lost before, she’d complete the issue now. She ran on through the dark, dodging trees she barely saw coming. She darted in different directions in an effort to confuse him. The pine needles crunched under her feet; surely he’d hear her from a long way off. Her panting turned into uncontrollable huffs and heaves. She pushed on until her lungs hurt.
Out of nowhere, a tree clipped her shoulder and her foot slid out from under her across the slick bed of pine needles. A sharp pain creaked in her ankle. She shut her mouth and listened. An owl hooted. No sound of the elf’s footsteps. The darkness developed fully. A slight haze of moonlight lit her way. How lost could she be after her sprint?
She eased up to her feet, leaning against a tree, and tried her ankle. A piercing ache darted through it. She’d have to limp the rest of the way home.
Footsteps crunched behind her.
She turned as a cool light expanded and glowed like a huge, soft bubble in the night. After her eyes adjusted, a figure formed behind the light. The elf again! The light emanated from a tear-shaped object dangling from his hand. The soft glow revealed his face with a gentle smile.
He took a step forward. Kalea lurched, landing on her sore ankle. She moaned and nearly toppled over. Nonetheless, she limped on, trying to ignore the pain.
After today, she’d ask to join a stricter convent somewhere to be a fully cloistered vestal. She couldn’t take the chance of getting raped by angry laymen or meeting some pretty elf somewhere who’d trick her into sleeping with him like in that hideous book. She’d worked too hard for her convent and intended to continue living in it. She owed the Creator her chastity for His mercy.
“Leave me alone!” she screamed over her shoulder. The light’s pursuit slacked off a bit. Each fighting step increased the distance. With persistence, she covered more ground and, miraculously, the lantern at the convent’s gate winked into existence.
Oh, thank You, thank You!
Before proceeding, she glanced behind her. No more blue light. She pounded on the rough door leading into the convent’s yard. Its peeling paint flaked off under her fist. She would have to take a penance for arriving so late.
“It’s me! It’s Kalea!”
The door swung open with a whine. “Kalea?” Father Bersham kept watch tonight. “We were worried sick. Father Liam went out to fetch you at the hospital.”
“I’m sorry, I got lost. I don’t know how I…”
He took her hands. “You’re freezing. You must’ve taken a fright. Come inside and get warm.”
She clamped her mouth shut against the flood of frazzled complaints accruing in her mind’s queue. She fished for the best phrase for a moment. “I have to tell Father Liam I’m all right.”
“Don’t concern yourself; get in there. I’ll send Father Starm to tell him you’ve returned.”
He guided her inside with a hand on her back. She checked again for any sign of the elf’s light lurking amongst the rows of trees. Only darkness remained out there.
A sharp sting pulsed through her skin as Joy peeled back Kalea’s bandages. They stuck to the raw gashes, and every little peel she made caused Kalea to wince. She hugged herself and clenched her teeth. She’d stripped down to her braies and bandages. The old sweat clinging to her in the chilly night air made her skin clammy. A few other novices filled the bath next to her, mixing boiling kettle water with cold buckets from the well. They darted glances toward her at every chance. The bath’s heat touched her with welcoming wafts of steam.
The other novices left after filling the bath, hurrying to their evening prayers. When Joy finished peeling away the bandages, Kalea took off her braies and immer
sed into the steamy water with a sigh. After a good dunk to wet her hair, she leaned against the side, draping her elbows over the edge. Joy dabbed her sore back with a rag to clean the gashes before later applying the special herbal concoction they used for flagellation wounds. The tendons in Kalea’s arms ached from all of Kemp’s manhandling. The hot water soothed those and her stressed ankle.
She closed her eyes. “I’d like to sleep the night away in this water.”
“It’ll be freezing when you wake up. And you’d be all shriveled like a little shrunken muskrat,” Joy responded as she worked.
Kalea giggled. “My Joy. She’ll always be there to drag me back to reality.” She hissed at the next dab of the cloth.
“We all want to know what happened to you,” Joy said. “How could you get lost?”
Kalea checked to make sure they were alone in the room. A few candles were lit, illuminating the old tapestries which kept the room warm. They were woven with simple patterns of flowers and sun shapes.
“Didn’t you use the path to get home?”
Which details should she tell?
“I’m going to have to talk to Father Liam,” Kalea said, “but can you keep a secret for me?”
“Is it a confession-worthy secret?”
“Not exactly. I didn’t technically commit a sin. But I’m scared.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to go out anymore.”
Joy stayed silent.
Kalea hesitated, and then said, “There’s an elf out in the forest.”
“A what?”
“An elf. A male one. I interacted with him on the day I got these lashes. He said he’d leave the area, but I met him again today. I don’t know why he stayed around.” She pressed her lips together. What all should she tell Joy? She wasn’t obligated to talk about her sin after doing her penance, but there would be so many questions if Joy didn’t hear the story.
“So did you…do something with the elf?”
“No! It’s not like that. I’ll tell you.” So she inhaled deeply and told her the whole story of how she had rescued the elf at the market. Joy was her best friend anyway. If anyone could know about the bad deed she had done for the elf, Joy could.
Sufferborn Page 10