Birthing Ella Bandita

by Montgomery Mahaffey

  The girl collapsed when she was done, falling into the cushions. Her gown was covered in stains and her face was smeared with juices from meat and fruit. She breathed heavily, and placed her hands on her belly, the haze of madness drifting away. She glanced at her host and realized she must have been under some kind of spell. The illusion of a kind old man disappeared and she recognized the Sorcerer. But the girl wasn’t at all afraid when she looked into the colorless eyes gazing at her with that shadowy smile.

  “So how did a wench with such a lusty appetite come to the point of throwing herself into the river?”

  “If you’re such a mighty Sorcerer, then you should already know the answer to that question.”

  “I can see the feasting has made you rather bold,” he chuckled. “Really. You could be fascinating.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I already have what I want, Girl. Question is…what do you want?”

  The girl chortled, the bark cut short from an upsurge of bile burning the back of her throat. The pain of eating too much came upon her in that moment. She curled into a ball and wondered if she would burst from gluttony until her silent memories swept in. The image of empty faces and condemning eyes seared through and emptied her again. But the ache remained in her belly and the Sorcerer looming over her made her uneasy. Yet she also remembered this was the first conversation she’d had in almost seven years.

  “What do you think?” she muttered, sitting up. “I want to not be so alone. I want people to care. What else could I possibly want?”

  The Sorcerer raised his brows and the hairless arches deepened the grooves in his forehead.

  “Come on, Girl. Don’t be so paltry in what you wish for. You can do better than that.”

  The heat rushed to her cheeks, but she said nothing. The Sorcerer rested his chin on interlaced fists and waited. That squeeze clenched inside her breast. But this time she wasn’t so foolish to hope her heart beat again. Staring into the colorless eyes of the Sorcerer, who gazed back at her with a bland expression, the girl couldn’t move.

  “I want anybody I choose to fall in love with me,” she finally said. “Can you really make that happen?”

  The Sorcerer of the Caverns smiled, his teeth the longest she’d ever seen, the dark yellow gleaming against his matted dusty beard. He nodded.

  “And what do you want of me?”

  “I want to lay with you,” he said. “And I want you to give me your heart.”

  The girl froze. Although her heart had been dead for years, she clasped her hands over her breast to protect what rested underneath. The thought of giving it to the Sorcerer made her stomach churn. She shook her head before she spoke.

  “No.”

  “Not so hasty, Girl. I think you may like what I have in mind for you.”

  “I said no.”

  She stood and looked up the staircase spiraling out of the Caverns. Then the snap of fingers made her flinch, and the sound bounced off the stone and reverberated up the tunnel. A boulder slid across the top and the girl watched the nighttime stars disappear. She couldn’t quite believe this was happening to her, but she still wasn’t afraid. A calm descended on the girl as she watched the Gateway to the world above close off to her. She looked at the Sorcerer. His robes cascaded around his throne; his hair and beard were dull against the opulence of gold and velvet.

  “I’ve heard stories about you all my life,” she said. “But never once did I hear that you could force me to stay. Not even once.”

  “That’s true,” he replied. “However, I can insist that you listen to what I have to say before you refuse me.”

  The Sorcerer waved his hand to the sofa. The girl saw the table was clear, the ruins of the banquet gone as if the feast had never happened. Instead, a bronze triad of candles stood in the center of the table beside the crystal she pulled from the tunnel walls.

  “Have a seat,” he continued. “You may find my offer enticing.”

  She sat down. Her back was straight as a rod, her hands in a tight clasp, her limbs rigid, a silent prayer repeating through her that she had to get out of the Caverns. For a moment, she panicked at the thought that the Sorcerer might read her mind. But he gave no indication he could as he took the crystal stargaze and held it to the candles. Its essence came free, and the colors whirled around them. The girl grew light-headed, but dropped her lids. She refused to look up until she’d made herself blind to everything but the Sorcerer. Then she opened her eyes and focused only on him until the essence was brought home to the crystal and the colors fell.

  “You have a strong command over yourself,” he said. “That’s very good.”

  “Just tell me what you want and be done with it.”

  He set the crystal down and pushed it across the table, its tiers spinning before her.

  “If you lay with me just once, I will bless this stargaze with the power to steal the heart of any man you desire. But…”

  The Sorcerer paused.

  “If you lay with me many times, I will teach you the arts of seduction.”

  The Sorcerer slowed his speech to the lulling cadence of persuasion. The girl listened. She couldn’t stop her limbs from softening nor could she hold the tight grip of hands.

  “To master the secrets, you must surpass the ancient knowledge. If you can do this and pleasure me more than any woman ever has, I will give you a dust you can use for protection.”

  “What does such a dust do?”

  “Blow a pinch when faced with an enemy,” he said. “Say the first thing that comes to your mind and thus, your enemy is changed.”

  “So far, this sounds…” the girl trailed off. “Why not just make this your offer?”

  The right side of the Sorcerer’s brow crinkled deeper. She scowled, hesitating before she continued.

  “My heart’s been dead for years anyway. Why would you want it?”

  “All or nothing.”

  The girl tensed. She thought an agitated serpent might have invaded her belly. The longer she looked into the Sorcerer’s eyes, the tighter the coil around her innards became.

  “No,” she said. “I won’t do it. Just let me go.”

  “I’m not done yet,” he retorted. “If you give me your dead heart, I will make you immortal.”

  The girl opened her mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.

  “You could die,” he continued. “Bullet, blade, rope, fire, or water would kill you. But you can never fall sick, so plagues and poison will have no effect on you.”

  The Sorcerer uncurled his long fingers and held his palms open in readiness to receive.

  “Just think of it,” he murmured. “You’re only twenty years old. You will never grow old. You’ll remain a maiden alive forever in the bloom of youth. The world would belong to you.”

  The Sorcerer’s temptation was as powerful as legend told. A chaos of fascination and disgust rioted inside the girl. She stared at the thin papery flesh and the thought of touching him made her recoil. Then she remembered the silence, the backs turning on her, and the eyes averting whenever she turned to face the accusing glares. The possibility that she would never have to suffer that ever again made her tremble, the tingling along her flesh more than she could stand.

  And there was the promise of endless youth. Although the girl lacked the vanity that often plagued the beautiful, she had a physical prowess most women never knew. The thought of never having her strength and agility diminished was almost irresistible. But she couldn’t forget the stories she’d heard all her life about the Sorcerer. This offer couldn’t be so simple. There must be something he wasn’t telling.

  “What is your hidden price?”

  “I’m offering you a chance to change your destiny. Are you really going to ask me foolish questions?”

  “I want to know what your hidden price is.”

  “I suppose you’d lose your soul if you should ever die,” he snorted. “But that would be no benefit to me.”

  Up unt
il this moment, the Sorcerer’s demeanor had been mild, even cordial. His sudden belligerence was unsettling. The warning of danger was a scream tearing through the girl, impossible to ignore. She shook her head and stood, looking up the tunnel to the boulder blocking the way out.

  “Girl, do you really think you will ever get a better chance than this?”

  “I listened to you, as you insisted. You have my answer. So are you going to let me go or not?”

  The girl marveled at how resolute she sounded. Where had this strength come from, she wondered. She held her breath, relieved when she heard a long sigh and looked back at him.

  “Ah well, I suppose I must.”

  The Sorcerer picked up the crystal and pressed it into her hand.

  “Take this and go home to your father. If you decide to keep living the life you’ve always known or not…”

  The Sorcerer trailed off and looked at her pointedly. The girl flinched at the hint. She had completely forgotten that she wanted to die. It seemed an eternity had passed since she stood at the edge of the river, trying to muster the courage to jump.

  “…then consider this crystal stargaze a keepsake of an extraordinary day in your life.”

  The Sorcerer finished and snapped his fingers. The Gateway out of the Caverns opened to the girl. Her limbs quivered when she looked up and saw dawn reflected in the clouds. Had she really been here since the previous morning? She almost wept at being given another chance, but she’d only taken two steps towards freedom before she was arrested by the grip of his bony fingers.

  “I’ll give you three days to accept,” the Sorcerer hissed. “After three days, you will never see me again and you will never find these Caverns.”

  He released her.

  ***

  The Sorcerer punched his thigh, watching the girl leave. He bellowed through his nose while she took the spiral out of his Caverns two stairs at a time. He had waited for too long to claim this one to allow her to slip away. He glimpsed the liquid cloud of second sight. The vial was on the top shelf carved in the eastern wall, resting beside a small cauldron. Perhaps he could see something useful.

  He took them both to the table and sat on the sofa, resting his palm where the girl had been. He savored the heat she left behind until the image of her was clear in his mind. Then he emptied the vial into the cauldron and closed his eyes. His face smarted from the smoke rising to form a cloud above his head. The Sorcerer cast his mind, and heard the girl’s labored breathing before he saw her running through the trees. She came out of the woods at the river, close to where he had found her the previous morning just as she was about to jump.

  This time she wasn’t alone. On the other side of the river was the giant gray stallion, the one that ran wild in the Abandoned Valley. Although he was a mammoth among horses, his glossy coat blended with the rising light and the girl didn’t see him until he pulled his head from the water. She glowed when she saw him. The Sorcerer was surprised at her reaction. Then he remembered that summer years ago, when the girl rode in the Abandoned Valley. The handsome young Horse Trainer who accompanied her always rode a splendid gray colt. This must be the same animal. The girl called out. The giant equine looked at her for a moment before turning away. As the animal ran for the far reaches of the Abandoned Valley, the Sorcerer saw the crest of the Patron seared into its left flank.

  The girl shook her head and turned towards her father’s manor. The house was high enough to view the fields, orchards of unborn peaches, and forests of the family estate, as well as the village to the south. The manor was also backlit by the coming sun, and the household would be coming awake to start the new day. The girl stretched her limbs to their limit and fled. She didn’t stop until she came to the garden of lilies encircling the house. The top bulbs peeked at her from above her head, but the girl had her gaze fixed on the massive door carved from the wood of peach trees. With her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, the girl could have been a refugee at the gates of sanctuary.

  Then she touched her hair. The coil had come undone when she fell in the river, the golden tresses hung loose and tangled to her waist. She looked over the stains on her gown and paled, her fingers touching the remnants smeared across her face. When she faced the front door again, the shine dimmed from her eyes. The girl took several deep breaths before following the path to the portico. Her hand shook reaching for the knob.

  All was quiet when she stepped in. She made her way down the hall that ran through the center of the house. One door opened to a salon on the west side, while the one on the east was closed. At the end of the corridor, the Sorcerer saw twin doors that opened to the dining room.

  From the west side, two servants swept in from a second door, what the Sorcerer assumed must be the kitchen. Their arms were laden with a basket of steaming bread, a cutting board with a round of cheese, a tray of sliced oranges, and a silver pitcher of coffee. They seemed unaware of the girl’s presence, arranging the breakfast at the far end of the table near the lone place setting. From the parlor, the rising sun shone through the eastern windows, gleaming along the wooden floors and fading away before the stairs.

  The sudden creak in the floor startled the younger maid to look up. At the sight of her Patron’s daughter, she spilled the tray of oranges. The other servant turned and scowled at the stains on the pristine linen. She opened her mouth to scold the other, but closed it when she saw who stood just beyond the doors. The Sorcerer suspected this must be the girl’s personal maid when the woman curtseyed. She looked over her mistress, taking in the ruined gown, unkempt hair and grimy face, and paled more than the younger maid.

  The servants looked at each other and back to the girl, all three standing motionless. The trio made a tableau of panic until the heavy tread coming down the stairs spurred them to action. The older maid hurried to place the tray of oranges over the soiled tablecloth, the younger poured a stream of coffee into a china cup, and the girl turned to meet her father. The Sorcerer also held his breath, knowing that what he wanted depended on the Patron’s reaction.

  His boots appeared first when he stepped down from the landing. The Patron would be working in the fields again that morning. He was dressed in peasant garb and there was a permanent cake of mud around the soles of his boots. His torso held the vestiges of the formidable strength he had when he claimed this estate as a young man. His large hands were calloused from years of hard work, the mark of a farmer. Yet his hands were also those of a nobleman. His fingers were scrubbed each day; his nails were rounded and clean of dirt.

  The Patron stopped when he saw his daughter, his eyes wide with surprise. He opened his mouth as if to speak. Then his gaze dropped. As he took in the girl’s appearance, he flushed and his lips clamped in a tight line. Shaking his head, the Patron flicked his eyes away and came down the last stretch of stairs, stepping past the girl to the dining parlor. His manner was stately when he claimed his seat at the end of the table.

  The girl stared after her father, the high color draining from her cheeks. Her lips trembled and empty swallows rippled down her throat while she fought to regain her poise.

  The maids shifted their regard between their Patron and his daughter. He said nothing until he had taken a few sips of coffee. Then he placed a few orange slices on his plate and reached for the bread, nodding at his daughter with a glance to her maid.

  “I think she needs to attend to her toilette.”

  “Yes, Patron.”

  The rigid features of the older servant relaxed. She left her position at table to approach her mistress and curtseyed to her again.

  “Would you like me to draw you a bath, Miss?”

  As the last of the liquid cloud dissipated, the polite smile and empty eyes of the aging lady’s maid faded from the Sorcerer’s mind, yet the well-modulated voice lingered. Miss, he wondered, frowning. Miss. How strange that her own maid should address her in such a common manner, even if she was the only person in the entire village that spoke to the girl.


  His eyes snapped open. He’d forgotten the Patron had never given his daughter a name. The Sorcerer of the Caverns leaned back into the pillows of blood red velvet, smiling up at the bright sky at the end of the tunnel.

  She would be back.

  Chapter Two

  The portrait was the size of life. It hung between floors on the wall of the landing facing the upper stairs. The woman was painted on canvas exactly as she had been when she was alive. Lamps always burned around her so she could be seen day or night. She stood facing the artist, her butter yellow gown falling in graceful folds from her chest to her feet. Her pale blonde hair hung loose and free around her shoulders and arms. Her lips were curved in the impish smile that had enchanted the Patron on the night he met her. Her body was straight, head leaning over one shoulder, chin tucked in, almost shy. Her eyes sparkled, looking beyond the man painting her likeness. Her forearms encircled her middle, white hands resting on the stomach still lying flat, her dreamy eyes seeing deep within, thinking only of the baby growing inside.

  It had been years since the girl sat before her mother. She kept her stargaze in hand while she stared into the eyes of a woman immortalized in a moment of precious time. The subject of the painting embraced her belly, yet still held traces of the maiden wild she was leaving behind for the motherhood to come. There was no shadow of death coming for her when the portrait was made, only joy for the life she carried inside.

  The edges of the crystal chafed her fingers, reminding her of the Sorcerer. Day passed into night, but she never left the stairs facing her mother. Images of the morning intruded on her vigil, and the memory of the Patron’s expression before he looked away ripped through her.

  “Take this stargaze and go home to your father,” the Sorcerer had said.

  She could almost hear that deep voice whispering in her ear.