Sufferborn

by J C Hartcarver

  She focused hard on the room, widening her awareness for any hint at all of an invisible guest. Minutes passed. Thirty of them. Sixty of them. Who knew how many? She watched.

  Joy returned. “Two hour check. Would you like a break?” She meant a trip to the garderobe.

  “Yes, please.”

  Kalea’s bones creaked as she worked up to her feet. Joy drew the outer veil off her head, folding it over. Kalea stretched out her legs and flexed as many joints as she could remember she had. Joy helped her all the way through her break. She accepted a drink of water, and Joy covered her again when they returned to the altar. Back to meditation.

  Kalea scanned the room, opening her senses and her most acute visual awareness. Where are you? Come back already, you stubborn elf.

  She focused as best she could through the thin silk. Along the left wall, the candle flames bowed over and whipped back as if someone walked swiftly past. She froze. Could it be him? It might’ve been a draft, though all day the candles had been calm. It was today’s first anomaly in their behavior. It had to be him!

  “Dorhen,” she whispered, “if that’s you, please let me know.” She waited. No sign came. “I have to talk to you…”

  She listened for any anomaly in the vibrations. The rain tapping against the windows and pattering down on the roof filled the silence, covering any mild scuff or breath. Why did the rain choose to fall on a day like this?

  “I’m sorry, Dorhen. I don’t know if you were in the cellar listening to me last night. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’ve been cruel to you. I’m sorry I turned away your generosity.” She bit her lip before taking a deep, shaky breath. “I’ve been having dreams about you. In the dreams, we came close to making love. This happened two nights in a row and several times on the first night. I was afraid of the concept of…making love. But I’m not anymore, thanks to you.”

  She sniffled. I’m telling such intimate thoughts to thin air.

  “You saw how I was attacked that day. You saved me. I didn’t know why you cared, since you were a stranger. Nonetheless, the attack made me afraid of you too. I thought you’d try to take advantage of me in a similar way, and that would be a problem for my process of becoming a vestal. I have to be a virgin to be a Sister of Sorrow. I was scared to trust you, that’s all. But you know what?”

  She surveyed the room, searching for any more candle anomalies. “I was told by other people to become a Sister of Sorrow. They chose my destiny, not me. And I thought it was the best thing for me too. I never thought I could be happy as a wife, and also be a faithful servant of the Creator. I can.” She wiped her leaky eyes on her long sleeve.

  “I love you, Dorhen… It’s more than that: I want you for myself. It’s a selfish and willful plight. Those dreams I had of us carrying on—I loved them. I want you. I no longer want to be a vestal. I want to teach you more about reading. I want you to catch fish for me and protect me. If you could please…come back, I’ll gladly walk out of here with you. Please.”

  A sob escaped her throat and she swallowed the rest of them, wiping her eyes on her sleeve again. “If you’re punishing me, I deserve it. I deserve whatever I get.”

  Keeping count of the hours proved too hard on such a dark, rainy day. Eventually, the windows darkened and the rain gained in weight.

  If Dorhen indeed spied on her and listened to her speech, he didn’t care. He must be rejecting her pleas. He probably wasn’t around anymore; he would be a long way down the road now, leaving her where she belonged, in the choking dust of his past.

  There was no blaming him for leaving her; she’d acted so neurotically toward him all these days. She genuinely was crazy. She belonged in here. Hopefully, her dreams of him would continue through the years, to help her through her difficult life of loneliness. A suffering kind of life, masked under the honorable title of celibacy.

  When the hour of her vow ceremony arrived, cold sweat beaded under her layers of silk. Her eyes darted around the sanctum for an elf who’d rescue her from her marriage to the One Creator. An imaginary elf. Maybe she’d imagined him the whole time due to her mental illness. The rain pounded, and thunder added to the miserable mix. Her hollow stomach groaned. She grew woozy. When it came time to give her speech, the words were lost in the hurricane that used to be her mind.

  “My honor…is…solely—I will honor You with all my heart, um…” And the rest of the speech sounded about the same. Once in a while, Father Liam whispered words to help her along, his eyes wide and his lips parted, awaiting every word she could manage to push out. She made an absolute fool of herself.

  When she finally said the last word, “amen,” she sighed and fell to the floor for a low bow to the Creator, as rehearsed. She crawled up the little steps to the altar’s dais and kissed the floor sectioned off by a rope around the altar. This space was accessible for the faithful to tend the altar without stepping past the rope onto an exquisite woven rug reserved to be trod upon by the Creator Himself. Tears dampened her cheeks by now. She let them out without being too mortified because crying in the presence of the One Creator was a normal thing to do.

  She crawled backward to her designated spot and stood again so Father Liam could wrap the official cincture around her hips, a woven belt with a silver-plated Creator’s flower medallion at the front.

  Next, he turned around and took her official vestal’s veil off the little table of objects and held it over her head. “On this sacred evening,” Father Liam recited over a sharp crash of thunder, “I hereby announce Kalea Thridmill, by honor of the One Creator and His—”

  A crash boomed through the sanctum. The novices screamed and scattered. Kalea fell during the raucous tremor. The ceiling caved in, roaring in a barrage of slate shingles, wood, and glass from the skylight. She saw each piece suspended like a messy mobile, frozen in time for a second before disappearing. Darkness followed as the wind and rain snuffed out all the candles. A cold, wet splash doused her robes.

  “Everyone be calm!” Father Liam shouted. “Be still!”

  In her starving state, the excitement made Kalea dizzy again. Her chest rose and fell uncontrollably. Someone tripped over her feet and screamed in pain—a novice. All the novices in the convent must’ve been shrieking.

  Sister Scupley commanded, “Calm!” and some of the voices finally hushed.

  One of the older vestals came through the door from the kitchen with a lantern. The new light revealed a gaping hole in the ceiling and rain pounding over the pile of rubble which had once been the roof and part of the skylight. The rain pouring in filled the area with mist, soaking Kalea’s clothes. Sharp sounds marked pieces of glass falling from above.

  “Is anyone hurt?” Father Liam called. “If someone is on the floor, make sure they’re all right.” He stepped over to Kalea. “How about you, Kalea? Are you hurt?”

  “No. I don’t think so.”

  He took her arm and pulled her up. Her weak hands twitched and trembled. “That damn roof has needed service for a while, but we haven’t had the funds!” When she stood on her own, he made his way to the raining pile of rubble. “Bring the light!”

  Kalea moved closer too, dragging her dress over the broken glass and wrecked pews. The vestal with the lantern went about, helping other women to relight some of the candles.

  “Bring some light! Hurry!” Father Liam dug through the wreckage, overturning heavy ceiling beams. “Oh, dear Creator.”

  “What is it?” Kalea asked, stretching her neck after her dress snagged, ignoring the ripping sounds as she pulled it.

  “Oh no, please, Creator.” Father Liam’s voice dipped low.

  As Kalea drew closer and the candles gathered together at the rubble, Father Liam knelt and stroked the hair of a novice who had been unfortunate enough to be standing too close to the collapse.

  Joy.

  He wiped her soaked hair away from her face. She stared into oblivion.

  Kalea gasped and covered her mouth. “Oh, please.” Her voice shook.
She gnashed her teeth and soon put a wad of her sleeve between them. “Is she…?”

  Father Liam was already reciting death rites over Joy with his hand on her forehead.

  “Amen.” He closed her eyelids.

  Chapter 15

  Her Choice

  Kalea’s initiation ceremony had turned into Joy’s last rites. With the sanctum ruined, they set up a bier in one of the study halls. The vestals cleaned and anointed Joy’s body. They didn’t ask Kalea, the newest vestal, to participate, to which she sighed in relief and stood back to watch helplessly as they finished Joy’s presentation. Kalea’s best friend lay in repose for now, and tomorrow would begin the funeral arrangements.

  Today, Kalea donned her official vestal’s habit; the seamstress-vestal had managed to finish it in time. At the breakfast table, she sat with Rose, who laid her head on Kalea’s shoulder. She could barely tell Rose was there from under all those layers: a long veil and wimple, a gown and scapular, and a triangular red mantle over her shoulders bearing the symbol of their faith.

  In the flurry of Joy’s death, the focus had shifted away from Kalea’s initiation and a couple of her rituals were postponed, so for now her hair hid under her headpieces. Though Father Liam had informed her she was official, she had yet to do the shearing ceremony to cut all of her hair off. She wouldn’t be in a hurry to do that ceremony anyway.

  After folding a stack of sheets in a laundry room devoid of Joy’s chatter—her stool left empty and cold in the corner—Kalea did her rounds, delivering them to their various cells. Father Liam was stuffing his spare linens into a trunk when she entered his cell.

  “Father,” Kalea said. “Are you going away on business again?”

  His eyes snapped to her and he gave a weak smile. “Kalea,” he said. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “When will you be back?” She placed the linen stack on his bed.

  “I have to tell you something.” She shook her head. “We personnel, we’re not set in place permanently. You know that very well. I even announced the personnel rotation.”

  “You’re leaving?” No. Not now. He can’t leave now. “You didn’t specifically say you were leaving!”

  Father Liam shook his head and placed a stack of books in the trunk. “This is how things are. You’re twenty years old now. You can make it without me.”

  “But I can’t… But you can’t leave so suddenly.”

  “It’s not that I’m leaving; I’m being rotated to a parish in Sharr.”

  “In Sharr!”

  He shushed her. “I’ll write to you biweekly.”

  “Father.”

  He took his attention off his packing and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Listen to me. Although you still need a few rituals to complete your confirmation, you must wear the habit anyway. And I’ve got your new cell all prepared for you in the east building. I want you to sleep in it tonight. Things change. It’s the way of the world, of life. Now Joy is gone, and I will be too. And you, too, will be gone, off to your new cell, to your new life as a Sister of Sorrow. It’s a new chapter, nothing to fear or mourn.”

  Kalea sniffled and forced back the tears. “If you say so.”

  “All right.” He turned back to his task. “Go on and take a look at your cell. I made sure you got a good one. And I put some of my books in there to start your collection.”

  A short, weepy laugh burst from her throat. “Thank you, Father.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  Kalea put off her trip to the stream to watch as Father Liam loaded his trunk onto the little hired cart and sat next to the driver. With a whip of the reins, the spotted white horse jolted forward. Father Liam twisted around to wave at Kalea and most of the other convent residents. As soon as they disappeared behind a bend of shrubs and pine trees, Kalea rushed back inside, swallowing repeatedly to loosen her throat, and grabbed her shoulder basket full of dirty linens.

  At the stream, she opened up the basket and dropped the bloody rags used to clean Joy’s body last night into the cold pool of water within the piled stones. Watching them float around in the dammed water’s gentle flow, she let her gaze drift across the dancing sunlight on the water’s surface. No faces today. She wouldn’t look for Dorhen, though. If he’d listened to her speech yesterday, he must not have cared.

  As the bloody rags swirled, she took a step back. Another. Then her feet moved in consecutive steps. She walked. She followed the river. Her head felt numb. When the stream grew shallow, she traversed the wet stones and meandered into the forest. Her mind remained devoid of any thought. She lost most feeling in her body too.

  A thin mist drifted through the forest. After yesterday’s rain, the world had withered into a soggy grey rot. Once in a while, a sparrow song whistled in the distance to bring her back to reality.

  Am I still walking? Or am I dreaming again?

  Though she should stop and try to retrace her steps, she couldn’t. Her feet kept moving, crunching over the dead pine needles. The light expanded in the distance. A clearing? The trees thinned out as she drew near it. It wasn’t a clearing, it was a cliff, or at least a minor drop-off after a patch of fresh spring grass.

  Right there in such an odd place stood a well, an old one. Nowhere in sight, here or down the cliff, was any house or settlement to make use of the well. It must’ve been ancient, outlasting even the remnants of the settlement that had once used it.

  Not much could be seen from here. Though the cliff stood tall, the giant pine trees on the ground below surpassed its height. Kalea approached the well and placed her hands on the cold, damp stones. It no longer had a roof. Its water level reached high, probably from rainwater collected over centuries of clogged brush.

  A cold gust of air drifted up and caressed her face. She reached for her veil and pulled it off, followed by her wimple, to enjoy the cool air. Her hair tumbled down around her shoulders. She watched the surface of the water again.

  You should ask him what he wants, Dorhen had said about Arius Medallus.

  “I could use some guidance now,” she whispered.

  The well water showed nothing beyond her reflection in its still, mercurial surface. The whole forest was calm and silent, as if resting. No wind stirred the trees, and the wisps of mist dancing with each other made for the only movement in the atmosphere. That same sparrow whistled once in a while, the solitary sound the forest offered.

  When the stone well made her hands cold, she took them away to rub them, glancing up to catch someone standing in the forest.

  “Dorhen?”

  The first bit of a smile in a long time touched her lips, though tears gathered in her eyes. She ran to him.

  He kept his arms by his sides and a frown on his face regardless of how eagerly she ran, stumbling over a root and spreading her arms. He took a step back before she reached him, and she threw her arms around his middle before he could slink away.

  “Where’ve you been?” She’d lost Joy and Father Liam, but maybe she hadn’t lost Dorhen yet. Though she’d turned him away several times, snapped at him, and lectured him, she had grown accustomed to his presence, invisible or not.

  His arms dangled over hers. He hadn’t said anything yet.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  “I’m afraid.”

  She pulled away. “Why?”

  “Because I don’t know if you’re going to be cruel again.”

  She raised her hands. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you. I truly am. Where’ve you been?”

  “I went away as you ordered.”

  “But you were so persistent about meeting and befriending me.”

  “And I overstepped myself, causing you to lash out. Which you were right to do.”

  She reached out and took his hand. It shook. “I wasn’t right. I overreacted—several times. I want to talk. I have much, much to say!” She closed her mouth and regarded him. “If you’re afraid of me, why are you here now? Why did I not see you in the convent
?”

  “I stayed out of the convent because it’s your domain, and you didn’t like me there. I’m here now because I thought it’d make sense to say goodbye.”

  “Oh.” She embraced him again and laid her head on his chest. “Dorhen, I’ve needed you. Awful things have…” His heart hammered under her ear. “A horrible accident…”

  “Are you married to God yet?”

  She lifted her head. “Hmm?”

  “You’re dressed different. Are you off-limits yet?”

  She squeezed tighter around his torso. “That’s what I want to talk about.”

  “So, are you?”

  “Yes. But I’m changing my mind.” He peeled her arms off himself. “What’s the matter?”

  He yanked his face away from hers, and she moved around to catch his eyes again. “The matter is you’re off-limits now.”

  “I’m not!”

  He stormed over to the well and threw his attention into it. She joined him by his side. “I don’t know how to explain my problem. But what the hell, you get mad at me at the drop of a leaf anyway. I’ve nothing to lose anymore.”

  “Let’s talk about it. I want to talk for a long time. We can sort it out.”

  “Go ahead, I’ve nothing to lose! Would you like another confession while we’re at it?”

  “Please calm down.”

  He stopped talking, and so did she. She watched him closely.

  “I’ve done my best,” he said. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you when I first saw you. I sought you out, sought out your voice. I made myself available for you. I kept watch at the convent’s gate. To protect you—it’s all I wanted to do. Did I want you for myself? On a few occasions, yes—and I’m sorry. Did I have unclean thoughts? Yes—and I’m sorry. But did I also feel hurt and responsible when you were looking all faint and pale and starving?” He finally turned to look at her through pinched eyes.

  “Why did you feel responsible for that?”

  “I can’t say why. I just did. Like a force of nature. It was up to me to make sure you ate. To make sure you were healthy and happy. I don’t know why. I heard you each time you told me we couldn’t be in contact. I wanted to find a balance that would allow me to provide food and protection, but I also could’ve resisted talking to you. I was willing to respect your religion and your wishes. And then…”