The Silent Isle

by Nicholas Anderson

  X

  Of Monsters and Miracles

  Friendly voices, slaps on the shoulder. The gate closing, blocking out that terrible forest. Bailus. Good old Bailus with his hammer in hand. Bailus smiling then frowning, looking at Owen. "What's wrong with him?"

  "I'm hoping Leech can tell us that."

  "And only four of you made it?"

  "No, we're all here." That's when Dane looked around. "Where’s Rem?"

  "That's what I should be asking you," said Bailus.

  "He was right behind me; surely you saw him."

  "Only four of you made it out of the woods, sir," said Rawl, coming down the stairs from the wall-walk.

  Dane ran back to the gate and began to raise the bar. Bax caught him by the shoulder and spun him around, pinning him against the wall. "What are you doing? He's still out there. We can save him."

  "You already almost got us all killed trying to save his sorry ass once," Bax said. "I'm not letting you do it again. And I'm not letting you open that gate."

  Dane shoved him back. "That's not your decision to make."

  "No, sir," said Joseph coming close. "But he's right."

  Dane slammed his fist against the door of the gate.

  "It's worse than you think, sir," said Bailus.

  Dane turned towards him.

  "Edric, Markis, and Franklin are still out there, too."

  Dane pounded the door three more times and gave it a solid kick.

  "If you want to get out there again that bad, I can lower you from the wall, sir," Bax said.

  Dane pushed past him and shouted, "Get me Leech. Get me someone who knows what he's doing. And get Owen to the infirmary, now."

  Several men bumped into each other as they all jumped to obey him.

  By the time Leech burst through the door of the infirmary, they had Owen laid out on a bed and were removing the bandage from his foot.

  "What happened?"

  Dane filled him in. "I think the wound is poisoned."

  Leech knelt at the foot of the bed. "Someone get me more light."

  Several hands passed forward candles.

  Leech took Owen's foot gently in his hand and studied it. Owen did not stir. Leech dabbed softly at the wound with his finger. He laid the bandage out beside Owen and studied it. He smelled the wound. He made a face.

  "What?" asked Dane.

  "Nothing," said Leech, "It smells like any man's foot would after marching in leather boots all day."

  He stood up and turned to Dane. "You did a good job cleaning the wound. I don't think it’s infected, at least not beyond what I can treat. I don't think the spikes were poisoned."

  "But look at him," Dane said, "There's something seriously wrong with him."

  "I know, but I think Elias can do him more good than I at this point."

  "The priest? Why?"

  "Because,” said Leech, “I don't think those spikes held any poison. I think they held a curse."

  Elias was already there, as was most everyone else. He had not gone to bed after supper but had returned to his room to pray and light candles for Dane and the others still without the walls.

  Roused by the commotion of their arrival, Elias had gone to investigate, but by then the men were bearing Owen to the infirmary. So many had arrived before him he was actually standing outside the open door of the infirmary, trying to get what information he could from those in front of him.

  The others parted now so he could pass. Leech nodded to him and explained his observations: simple puncture wounds, no sign of infection.

  Elias thanked him and turned to Dane and asked the same questions Leech had plus a few more. “Any markings on the trap? What about the area where it happened? How long ago?” He shook his head when Dane said it had been only a little past noon. “What has he acted like? Has he said anything? You didn't bring the spike plate back with you?”

  “No. Is that a problem?”

  "Maybe I could have learned something about the nature of the curse. I could have tried to read its energies."

  "Can you do anything for him?"

  "Even if I knew what I was dealing with, it might already be too late."

  "But you have to try," Dane said.

  "Of course I will try. But this may be beyond my skill."

  "But what will happen to him if you can't."

  "If we're lucky, and if he is, he'll just die."

  "Divers," said Bax, "And what's the bad news?"

  "He would come back. But not as the man you remembered. And he would not recognize you. Or even himself. They would own him."

  "You don't have any idea what kind of curse it is?" Dane asked.

  "I think I do. That's why I'm so worried. I thought the practices of arts this dark were only legends - ways to scare priests and witchdoctors too hungry for power. But there is one story, one curse, which was always talked of in such hushed detail I thought there must have been some truth behind it. Hope as I might that there was not. It is sorcery from the cult of Kabali the Jackal, the lord of madness. The curse, it is said, is applied through a wound dealt by an accursed weapon. The wound itself need not be serious, but it is the door for the evil to enter the body. The idea is to create a kind of sleeper berserker. The wounded man slips under, is brought back to the hospital. But all this time the rage is building, boiling in his blood, and when it boils over, he awakens. The rage then is so strong his body can only endure it for a few hours, maybe less, but in that time he can do unspeakable damage."

  Elias glanced at Owen and then back to Dane. "Has he tried to bite anyone yet?"

  "Bite anyone?" Dane said.

  "Could you lay such a curse?" Bax asked.

  "I would not try to," Elias said. He took Dane by the arm and pulled him aside. "I will do all I can for him. But do you understand what I have said? If he should wake up, if he should so much as stir, someone would have to be prepared to..."

  Dane nodded.

  "And they could not hesitate. Not even for a second."

  "I understand. I'll stay here with you myself."

  "I want to help," said a voice behind them.

  They turned to see Mara standing at the foot of Owen's bed. She was staring into Dane's face. He did not know how she had gotten there except that she must have shouldered and weaved her way through all the onlookers. Elias cleared his throat. "You know something of curses on your island, miss?"

  "No," she said. "But we know something of breaking them."

  Bax came forward with a little laugh (it sounded almost nervous) and grabbed her arm. He leaned his face toward her ear but spoke so those around could hear. "Come on, you little witch. Nobody wants to hear about your spellcraft here."

  Mara pulled her arm free and turned to face him. "I can help this man."

  Bax gave the little laugh again. Was he actually embarrassed? "You see what trouble you cause, your highness? You take me away from her for one day and she starts thinking she's her own person."

  "If you're tired, go and sleep,” Mara said. “If you're rattled, go and drink. But I'm not leaving his bedside till I've done what I can."

  "I'm not going to let you waste the good priest's time with your lies."

  Bax never stopped smiling but Dane caught the glint in his eyes. There was murder in them. There was no telling what he'd do to her if he got her alone now.

  Bax grabbed her arm again.

  "She stays, Bax," Dane said.

  Bax trained his smile at him but the glint did not leave his eyes. "So, she's taken you in already."

  Dane brushed past him and out the door. As he passed, he nodded to Mara and Elias. "Begin, please."

  He didn't need to have it all out with Bax in front of everyone in the presence of two people who were trying to save a dying man, who, if they should fail, would rise up with hellfire coursing through his veins. Dane knew the quickest way to get Bax outside was to ignore him and let Bax follow him. He strode out into the courtyard and kept his back to the door. He heard footste
ps behind him almost immediately. Good.

  "You may think you're all powerful out here, but you don't have any place telling me what to do or not do with my slave. Your father couldn't even do that if he were here. He wouldn't even try."

  Dane did not turn. He gave no sign he'd even heard Bax. But he listened. For the sound of a knife being drawn. For the sound of charging footfalls. For any sound that signaled Bax was finally ready to take their relationship to the next level.

  Dane unclenched his fists then clenched them again.

  "You think you're too good to look at me?"

  Dane turned to face Bax. When he did he realized the Johnson twins had followed Bax out of the infirmary. Dane wondered if they were here to back up him or to back up Bax or whether they just wanted to watch what was coming.

  Bax smiled as though he'd won a small victory. "You know, maybe I was wrong about you. At first I thought your daddy had ordered this mission as a neat little way of getting rid of you. But maybe this whole thing was your idea. Maybe you brought us out here just to show us how you think you hold all our lives in your little hands."

  "Actually, I think he's showing you you'll be holding yourself in your own hands tonight," Paul Johnson said.

  "Shut up, Paul," said Rawl.

  "You want to be your own man, Bax?" Dane said, and the calm in his voice surprised even him. "You want to make your own decisions? Very well." He held his hand out to the open door of the infirmary.

  Bax just watched him.

  "Go show us all what a man you are. Go show Mara what kind of man you are. And when we get home, I hope you'll be man enough to explain to Bren and Lorna Manies that you let their son die because you had to prove yourself to your slave girl."

  "You don't know that she can do anything for him," Bax said.

  "And you don't know that she can't."

  Bax stood there. He glanced back at the doorway and then back to Dane. "To hell with you," he said. "To hell with all of this." He turned on his heels and strode off in the direction of the house he was occupying.

  Dane returned to the infirmary with the Johnson twins behind him. The crowd had thinned out considerably. Elias and Mara were standing on opposite sides of Owen's bed and talking in low voices. Molly stood at the head of the bed, dabbing Owen's forehead with a damp cloth. Bailus leaned against the hearth looking grave as always. The few other men in the room filtered out as Dane and the Johnsons came in. Either people were convinced Elias and Mara had it under control or they did not want to be around when they failed.

  A censer smoked on the hearth; but who had lit it Dane did not know.

  Dane sat down on one of the beds along the wall. He wanted to make himself useful but did not know what to do and he figured the others would call him if they needed anything. He remembered his promise to Elias and got up and went over to the bedside. He tried to stand as much between Mara and Owen as he could without being obtrusive. As he came over, Mara and Elias nodded to each other. They seemed to have reached a decision.

  Elias went to his bag which lay on the table and pulled from it a smooth dark stone with light flecks in it like quartz. He went to the foot of the bed and, taking Owen's injured foot in one hand, began to rub the stone over it with the other. He started at the ankle, moving the stone in circles. Then he ran it back and forth over the top of Owen's foot and then finally along the bottom where the spikes had entered it. All the while he was chanting or praying in a whisper.

  Mara placed her hands on Owen's chest and began moving them in circles as though massaging the skin. All the while she sang softly, too softly for Dane to hear her words, and at the times when they sounded most clear he was not sure she was not using a foreign language. Her hands moved from his chest to his stomach to his good leg all the way down to the foot and then she started on the injured leg.

  "Almost enough to make you jealous, isn't it?" said Paul.

  "Shut up, Paul," Rawl said.

  As soon as Mara touched Owen's right leg, his hand shot up like a striking snake and grabbed her wrist. Everyone in the room, except perhaps Mara, started in surprise. Dane slammed one hand down on Owen's chest, as though anticipating Owen trying to get up, and with the other he drew his knife.

  "Wait," said Mara, placing her free arm between Dane and Owen's body. "The darkness is losing what hold it had on him. It only wishes to make us doubt that."

  Dane relaxed his grip on Owen but did not sheath his knife. Mara touched her free hand to Owen's, which gripped her wrist so as to make his knuckles white. "Peace," she said. She repeated the word several times.

  Owen's grip relaxed and then his hand dropped to the bed with a thump.

  Mara continued rubbing Owen's leg until she reached his foot where Elias was still working with the stone. She waited for him to finish and then he placed his hands over Owen's wounds and Mara placed her hands over his. They whispered a prayer but Dane could not tell whether they used the same words or not. Elias stepped back. He looked pale and tired but he glanced up at Dane and nodded.

  They all just stood there for a moment. A kind of solemn silence had settled over the room, as though to ask, "Did it work?" would be a stroke against hope.

  "Well, goodnight, ma’am and miss," Bailus said, heading for the door. "Gentlemen. You know where to find me if you need me."

  The Johnson twins followed him out. Molly left next. Elias and Leech put away their respective tools and began a conversation as they walked to the door. Leech pulled the door to and the latch clicked into place. Leech’s closing the door was probably just a reflex, something he did without even thinking about it to keep the cold night air from his patient, but there was a sense of purpose in the sound, a sense of finality, of destiny. And then it was just Mara and Dane and the sleeper on the bed.

  Dane felt he should go but Mara stood there like a statue, watching Owen's chest rise and fall.

  Why does she linger? Is Bax waiting up?

  He studied Owen. The color has returned to his cheeks. He looked like a man at sleep; nothing more, nothing less. Dane cleared his throat and Mara turned towards him. She looked him in the eyes and did not look away. How had he never noticed how large her eyes were? How much depth and color they held. Miniature galaxies spinning there.

  "Would it be safe for you to stay here tonight?" Dane asked.

  "Are you asking me to stay?"

  "Only if you'd like to." He nodded towards Owen. "He was pretty loopy right before he slipped under. He might be dazed and disoriented when he comes back. It might be good if there was someone here to calm him. But I can stay if..."

  "No," she said. "I'll do it."

  Why was he not afraid for her? Part of him knew Owen would wake up with nothing worse than the vague memory of bad dreams and a sore foot. But all of him knew, though he couldn’t say how or why, however Owen woke up, this little woman would know how to handle herself. And him. And if being here gave her one night of peace and rest, then he'd risk anything to give her that.

  She turned away again. She was staring at the fire with her arms crossed.

  "Are you cold?"

  She nodded slightly.

  "Come over by the fire." Dane pulled several blankets off the empty beds along the wall and set them on the bed closest to the hearth and then drug the bed so its posts were lined up with the frame of the hearth.

  She came to the other side of the bed and stepped out of her shoes. "Thank you," she said.

  Except when she was singing over Owen, he’d never heard her voice so soft.

  Owen stirred and Dane watched him for a moment. "No," he said. "Thank you."

  Dane stepped around her bed to Owen's and touched the back of his hand to Owen’s brow. He took another blanket off a nearby bed and tucked it around Owen. He stepped back to the hearth and built up the fire. He took longer than he needed to about it, staring into the embers.

  He wanted so badly to stay. Not to touch her but only to be near. Not to speak to her but only to listen to the sound o
f her breathing. But he knew the greatest gift he could give her was solitude.

  He rose and turned to the door and found she was already beneath the covers. Her back was to him but he stood close enough to see her eyes were closed. He drew the edge of her blanket up over her shoulder. Her hand curled around the hem of the fabric.

  Dane stood there, still holding the blanket but with one finger extended over her cheek. Every ounce of him wanted to run his finger over the smooth skin and brush back the strands of dark hair that had fallen there.

  Who was this woman that she would defy Bax to save a man she didn’t even know? A man who should be her enemy? And what was it he wanted from her? So much more than he had ever wanted from a girl.

  But he drew his hand back and made for the door. There was a sense of finality to the sound of his footsteps. He reached for the door.

  "Mirela."

  Dane paused with his hand on the latch. He turned back to her. Her eyes were still closed.

  Had she spoken in her sleep?

  He turned back to the door and lifted the latch.

  "Mirela, Dane."

  This time when he turned he was looking into her eyes and he understood. He stood there, not wanting to speak because there were no words to suffice. The moment, the room, had been transfigured. Something holy had passed between them.

  "Mirela." And she almost smiled as she closed her eyes once more.

  "But Bax calls you..."

  "Bax only knows what I told him."

  Dane pulled the door to until he heard the latch click and he stood there with his hand still on the handle. And for a moment he forgot his dread about this island and about the impossibility of their situation and all he could think about was her.

  And her name.

  XI

  Ugly Business

  Before the sun rose the next morning, Dane visited the infirmary to check on Mirela and Owen. Both were sleeping peacefully. He rebuilt the fire and shut the door softly. He crossed to Bax's house and knocked on the door.

  Bax's eyes were bleary and he was still wearing his clothes from the day before. "Come on," Dane said. "We're going to look for Rem."

  "You couldn't do anything for him last night. What makes you think six hours will have improved his situation?"