by Multiple
Mirella froze, her breathing stilled as she turned back to the crone. “You can’t expect for us to sit and wait for our deaths, Mother,” she said softly. Her footsteps were slow as she approached the woman, and once more she knelt, her eyes holding such reverence. “We carry your grandchildren. Your blood. You said as much yourself. That I could be a Witch of the Coven.”
The other women crowded around the bed and Svella gave Mirella a sympathetic look, she murmured, “It is not as you think, sister.” She heard the scuffle of booted feet as another woman hurried out of the room and then the remaining women began to link hands about the bed. She heard chanting begin as the white haired woman swayed.
Mirella was lost, but she wouldn’t let him down. She couldn’t. Her eyes blinked away the tears once more as she stared up at the Seer, “I would do anything for him,” she said earnestly. “My life is nothing compared to his. He deserves this city to fall to their knees.” She looked up and around at the swaying women. “What’s not as I think? Have you all given up?”
The doors swung open again and she saw as more of the Raven Guard women scurried in. All about the chambers they began to join hands and the chanting grew louder. Svella took Mirella’s hand and squeezed it tightly, “Join in, sister,” she urged and began to chant with the rest.
Her hand was trembling as she joined with them, welcomed into the folds of women so unlike herself, but as the tears began to stream down her cheeks, there was so little else she could do. At least this felt like something. Like nothing. A sweet distraction at the precipice of destruction and failure.
Her failure.
It was then she heard it, the old woman’s voice in her mind. “Do not despair,” it said, sounding so much younger and stronger than it really was. “We do not resign ourselves to giving up on him… we resign ourselves to sacrifice for him,” she told her, though looking at the old woman she had not moved from her swaying. Did not speak out loud.
Mirella blinked. Her heart quickened, and immediately she knew she would not feel sad for this thing. For this sacrifice, and only the loss of her child—his child—resonated within her. She’d always known, from the first moment she saw him, that she would do anything for him.
He’d done more for her in the short months than she’d dreamed of in those tentative, uncertain moments of just meeting him. In the days of new lust and love and appreciation. In the warm nights of comfort in his bed, he’d always brought her to new heights of devotion.
The old woman’s voice spoke to her in such a soothing, youthful tone, “You are willing to give all. Your dedication is admirable. I could not have chosen a better woman for my son,” she complimented, the chanting becoming a hum on the air that seemed to vibrate reality itself, everything beginning to turn bizarrely blurry about her.
“Your child shall not be harmed,” said the Seer to her again in her mind. “And you shall survive this to sacrifice another day. Now I impart to you the secrets you need for that…”
It was then Mirella felt it. The earth shattering truth of the Ka’reem women and their powers. She felt it. Their coven commanded the ability to rip the earth asunder if they wished it. They could destroy as well as create, but she saw it… flashes of sacrifice. The Seer’s madness a price she paid for her son. She saw then other women who paid various other fees for their power. All terrifying. Their bodies shrivelled to husks. Some left hideous and deformed. All suffered regrets no matter how hard they tried to deny it, for the price was never easy to pay.
She wasn’t aware that the tears kept streaming, that she could feel something so strongly, so passionately and with such empathy as she did then. Years of being a servant, of growing up as a dredge of society had left her with a hardened shell. She cared not for the suffering of others, not after seeing how jaded they were about her own pain. It was something practical and cruel that kept her sane, but for that moment she knew the exquisite despair of so many others and she could empathize. She knew that she too would make this sacrifice and become someone different.
Someone he potentially would no longer love.
She acknowledged the regrets she’d have, and still knew she’d do it. Sacrifice all she valued, even His love, in order to save His kingdom.
Mirella had offered up all she could, and the chanting took on such a powerful force. When finally she felt the shuddering of the room coalesce it was as if all the women were one. Their unified purpose causing them to see into powers beyond.
The Seer guided them, she knew that innately, their sight travelling through the stone of the palace and into the mountains themselves upon which it was built. She saw then in the tunnels, the soldiers travelling ancient hewn paths the nobles and miners before them had made. Their numbers seemed endless and beyond the mining paths the soldiers in such numbers were marching through great halls hewn by beings that could not have been human judging by their choice of style.
There had to be hundreds, at least a thousand, of them. All heavily armoured and bent on coming to Ariste and taking the city that Kulav had won.
Together the witches—for she was one of them now—put their will to it. The walls of the cave began to shake, pebbles slipped from the stonework above. The soldiers did not notice it at first, but as they did she saw the looks of panic on their faces.
An earthquake, they cried. She didn’t hear it as such, but sensed it. Terror took hold of them and as rubble began to fall in their midst striking some, knocking them wounded or unconscious, the rest began to scurry as they could. They trampled one another, losing their military discipline as the stonework began to crumble.
The rest was bloody horror.
The women had ripped an army to pieces with their minds and as they came out of the spell they knew they had felt victory. Though the price…
Several of the women collapsed, others went to them. Some cried out in warbling pain or madness. Mirella however…
Nothing had changed. She felt it. She was as before. She was free to see things all as they were: the Seer collapsed, the anguish on her sister’s faces. Then felt the rumbling that should’ve ceased. That had killed so many soldiers and now shook the palace itself.
She didn’t quite feel panic, not as she felt she should. There was newfound concern and affection for the women, brought about by the shared experience, but it wasn’t panic. Her eyes moved over them, over her God’s Mother, over her sisters and the price they paid.
What was her price?
Her hands went to her stomach, to her womb, and felt for a stir, for that familiar life within her, even as she felt the ground tremble beneath her. “We need to get into the open air,” she said, though she had no idea if she had whispered it or screamed it.
She felt the same, yet the shock had made her mind fuzzy.
Things all happened so fast from there it seemed, as if it was all a haze. She felt the reassuring life within her stir, knew it was well, and all about Svella and her gathered the women that were still able and got them to bring the others to safety.
It was barely a moment too soon, for one of the stonework statues toppled, crushing the bed upon which the Seer formerly lay as the quaking continued. Then out into the courtyard they still felt it. More than that they heard the mountains themselves groan and quake. It was such a terrifying sound.
It was as if the world itself was crying out in agony at their act of violence and then… she saw it even from where she was. All the other women gawked around her. The mountain began to crumble, great slabs of stone sheering off the side of the collapsing rock cliffs. Falling down into the pass out of which the God King had rode but days before.
Rushing to the parapets Svella and her stood on shaky legs as the quaking finally slowed and came to a stop. He may have ridden through that passage to war, but he would not ride back along it. It was closed. And no force she could imagine—short of the terrifying powers they just wielded—could dislodge such debris again.
Chapter 14
The quakes had final
ly stopped. Svella and Mirella had rallied the sisters to reassert control over the situation. The city was in a panic after all. Nobody knew what had just happened, talk of dark signs were on everyone’s lips.
Svella slumped down in a chair at their new headquarters, cradling her pregnant belly. She was well overdue now, and looked enormous, weary.
Mirella, meanwhile, had been doting, caring on the other women. On her sister’s. She wasn’t much use in battle, but she excelled at tending to others, and for the only time in her life aside from her God, she wanted to help them.
“You’re past your date,” Mirella tsked as her hand ran through Svella’s hair.
With a snort the tall woman retorted, “What gave it away?” She gently patted the giant stomach she sported. “The God-King has blessed me with a mighty child, sister. This one takes time,” she intoned, sounding amused. Talk of him only reminded her of the ugly truth. The mountain was closed. Even if he won… what then? He couldn’t get back.
She’d long ago figured this was the cost. Her cost.
“He will be proud,” she said. She wouldn’t entirely give up hope. After all, even if he didn’t return to this kingdom, he would rule others. Take on other concubines, raise other armies, and she wouldn’t allow herself to feel self-pity.
Svella had never spoken of her price. None of the women did. Even those whose price was obvious—so blatantly obvious—was respectfully ignored by the others. It was not talked about. Ever.
It was shared yet personal, or perhaps it was because talking of it led to comparisons. One woman talking of her great sacrifice as more than another’s. Whatever the reason they did not discuss such things, and they thought it best that way.
“He will be,” echoed the taller woman, stroking her stomach. They were all concerned for him, Mirella realized. Even those who feared him more than loved him. Nobody even much worried that the mountain pass cut them off from the bulk of the cities already dwindled food supply in the farms on the other side of the mountain.
“What of the princess?” asked Svella. “How has she reacted to this whole… thing?” she didn’t want to say more on the incident itself. The witches didn’t care for talking about it.
“The Princess handles bad news poorly. I haven’t wished to see her.”
It was left unspoken. Mirella was worried that she couldn’t pretend. Her emotions were rubbed raw, and the way her fingertips braided Svella’s hair a bit faster was the only demonstration of her agitation.
“Maybe it will have shaken her. Get her to tell more,” she suggested, the two women having grown so close in the intervening period. There was no jealously guarded idea with Svella; she wished only to help her fellow sisters. Mirella especially.
“Perhaps you’re right,” she agreed, finishing the braid and lovingly putting it over the woman’s shoulder, stroking her flesh. “How is the Seer?”
The tall northern woman sighed, “She has not awoken since. She pays a tremendous price for us all,” she intoned with some glumness. Mirella wasn’t the only one to feel for the Mother’s plight.
Her lips touched the woman’s head before she pulled away, “I will see to the Princess, though I feel that if you give birth here and now it may be less painful,” she teased. It was a dark sense of humour, one that she had never known herself to have until now.
Svella gave a deep laugh, and though she normally would’ve accompanied her, the pregnancy—and their ever increasing duties—were keeping her weary and she stayed resting in her chair. “Good luck with the harpy queen.”
Since the quaking Mirella was seen by the other soldiers and workers more and more as something of a leader. They paid her deference as she passed through the halls towards the Princess’s room, even gave her occasional salutes and bows.
Entering into that decadent chamber however, she found the princess looking anxious. Her beautiful, luxurious blonde hair a bit frazzled. “Mirella!” she cried, dressed in some gorgeous sky-blue gown with frilled edges.
She hated her for that decadence, for that pampered look even in her despair, but her face softened as she hugged the princess and the first tear slipped from her eye without permission. She missed him. She couldn’t show her weakness in front of the other women, even in front of her friend, but in private, in the arms of this woman she loathed, she brushed that wayward tear away.
“Princess, I’m so happy you’re safe.”
The princess was not concerned for her distress however. “What has happened, Mirella?!” She cried. “The shaking… the mountain!” she cried, pointing out her balcony to the collapsed mountain path. “What madness is this?! What’s happened?!”
“I don’t know, Princess. We had begun to rally when I first heard word of the marching of the troops, so much closer than expected. And then…” she trailed off. She had no way of answering the woman, and another tear slipped past her cheek, even as her green eyes remained focused. “We are frightened and lost. Have you heard from the Prince? From anyone on the outside?”
The princess began to pace, clutching the sides of her head with her long nailed fingers. “You found them then?” She looked so distressed. “The last I heard from the prince, he… he said the loyal citizens were hidden out in the old aqueduct.” She stopped and looked to her, “Are those the ones you found? Are they okay? Did the quake hurt them?!” She demanded her answers so insistently, looking near panic.
Mirella blinked away more tears, trying to win control over her body as she shook her head, “We don’t know, Princess.” Her words struck her, her tongue lacing over her mouth as she thought it over. “When did you find this out?”
The princess began to wring her hands nervously, resuming her pacing. “What do you mean you don’t know?” she said. “We have to find out! Didn’t you come from there?” she looked so lost and confused, her worries tearing her apart.
“The dust is still settling, Princess, and I needed more help. I couldn’t do it on my own,” she said softly, looking positively brow beaten. Maybe she was. She’d felt like she lost a bit of herself since the cave in. “We will find them.”
That mollified the dainty young woman and she nodded as she paced. “Good. Good!” She said, gnawing her lower lip with concern. “The prince will be delayed a bit,” she said. “With the mountain pass collapsed he’ll… he’ll,” she rubbed her forehead. “He’ll have to clear it or go around the Arisean Mountains. Which… which might take months,” she muttered, sounding distraught.
“Princess, I ever continue to work for your good name,” she said, but her voice was so soft.
The princess nodded, “Good, Mirella. You go, you go and… do what you can,” she said. “I’ll…” she paused, “wait!”
She rushed to her ornate desk and sat down, writing out in her beautiful, ornate script a letter, then using wax to close it with the royal seal. She went to Mirella, “Here. Take this to my loyal subjects,” she said. “This should buoy their spirits,” she decreed confidently.
Mirella clutched it and nodded, looking at the young, frantic woman. Even in the throes of despair, she was vibrant. Vivacious. Mirella bowed her head respectfully, “I won’t let you down.”
The exchange ended there, the princess too caught up in her own worries to offer more encouragement. So once Mirella had left her and got outside she read the letter. It contained a rather drawn out spiel about nothing in particular, but at the end she saw something. The princess made mention of a lord she referred to as “wise”.
Mirella had known the young princess since she was a little girl, and the only person she had ever thought was wise was the sleazy old priest that managed to bilk both nobles and commoners out of their fortunes. The same one who once led services in the royal family’s chapel.
She folded it back up, and for a few moments, she found a private room and let herself feel that all-consuming pain she’d been avoiding since the cave-in. It was disappointment in herself, in her failure and her inactivity. It was terror for her lover. I
t was a resentment that she hadn’t given birth yet, and at her body’s inability to fight.
But when she got it all out, when she felt all that pain flood from her body, she felt refreshed and rejuvenated. She would find them. An aqueduct that could be her salvation.
Chapter 15
As Mirella approached the Raven Guard’s headquarters where her other sisters received their orders, she heard the noise of heavy breathing. Rushing inside she saw Svella there alone, panting and looking strained as her knees were spread. She grimaced and looked to her, “Sister… it is time,” she groaned.
“Finally,” Mirella intoned, placing the letter aside as she moved to her friend. “This is a sign of things to come, Svella. You will give birth to a child of God, and we will bring Him home,” she stated, her confidence returned. She’d never delivered a child, but she’d helped once or twice when others were desperate, and she quickly began barking orders.
The rush of activity that came as the other woman obeyed her, gathering what was needed. Mirella may not have done this before, but the other women of the Guard certainly had. It was something they’d shared for some time now, and she needed only stand back and watch as they rushed to do what needed done.
Chapter 16
When finally Svella cradled her new son she was more exhausted then Mirella had ever seen her. The pregnancy was long, going on for hours on end, and she’d lost a lot of blood. But the large boy, so dark, so much like his father, seemed to please the mother greatly. “He will be proud,” she stated to Mirella again with confidence on her uncharacteristically weak voice, a smile on her lips as the other women watched enviously.
Mirella, however, was only pleased for her friend. She had feared that she’d feel that jealousy, that deep feeling of loathing, but instead she was only grateful that mother and child made it through, safe.
“I will see to it that He’s home to see him soon,” Mirella said softly, pressing her lips to Svella’s forehead. “Rest. I have to find a wise man.”