by Joni Green
“Nothing is odd about that,” said Xhahari. “But I was milling around outside castle gate. Just watching the people come and go. Something terrible is happening.”
“Explain,” said Perdix.
“There are many who come from great distances. They beg for safety, Master, for shelter inside the castle walls.”
“Is there some evil that ravages them, that makes them come here?”
“I could not believe the fantastic stories they tell. It is a horrible, horrible plague that has befallen us.”
“What kind of plague?”
“The Blood Plague.”
Chapter 14
I Am a Dead Man
A drop.
One drop.
Oh, it takes much more.
For I must drain you.
Bring you to Death’s door.
But the specter flees.
For I will do just as I please.
I’ll make you mine,
Eternally.
*****
I stand in the chapel. Not to pray. Though I must go hunting soon, I tarry. I like it here. The peaceful quietness is remarkable and rare. The smells and noises do not lay heavy inside these walls.
Is it because the holy pray?
I think it is because the priests regularly scour the place. Or maybe, it is because so few come here, anymore.
They are afraid. Afraid to venture far from the safety of their homes.
What false hopes they cling to.
In the darkening recess, the altar candles burn.
Quivering flames.
A consecrated band of orange light.
The hosts of heaven bend an ear to hear the saintly prayers sent on your blessed incense.
Vaporous tendrils, ethereal and smoky.
Little flickers.
Little prayers.
Little people
How I long for the darkening curtain of Eventide to fall upon the earth.
The stars move above as I fly about looking for my next delight.
I am not choosy.
A cow.
A peasant.
I snicker in spite of myself. Witty lines fill my mind.
A pleasant peasant presently chews his cud. The cud he chews I will eschew. I’ll wait for a banquet of blood.
This ravenous desire devours my every waking thought.
Wolfstan will come tonight, too. He has sent a note. He wants to taste my ‘forbidden fruit’ before the vows are made. He thinks he shocks me. But it is I who will surprise. Throwing my head back, I enjoy a hearty laugh.
*****
Wolfstan could not stop giggling. Perhaps, it was the wine, but Galleron thought it was more likely the fact that Wolfstan believed his ‘plan’ would work wonderfully well tonight.
The ulcer that had appeared on Wolfstan’s spindle had been painless, and so he had ignored it. But then, the rash came with foul weeping sores on his face and body that threatened to drive him mad.
Galleron had seen this evil pox many times before. Grown men screamed as their flesh dissolved to the bone. Just desserts, he’d thought. But a second later, he remembered the young princess soon to be Wolfstan’s bride.
When Wolfstan arrived at Castle Corlac, he’d immediately dispatched his servant to find someone with a balm to ease his suffering.
“Find me a cure for this odious malady,” he had drunkenly demanded.
Galleron spoke to the people who were milling near the castle gate. They told him the alchemist, Urien, was the king’s favorite. He went at once and demanded a cure for his master.
“I have just the answer,” Urien said. “Quicksilver.”
Perdix was standing nearby. He had been summoned by Gilia who was frantic because the young princess was pale and lethargic.
“I fear she has been stricken by a fever,” said the old maid.
“But the king has forbidden me to see her. He trusts only Urien in these matters, now.”
“That quack speaks from his toes, Perdix. Once, I believed in him. But no more. I’ve seen him with our precious jewel. He stuffs her with potions, smears her with salves, and babbles spells like a brook. Nothing he has tried has helped her. She is worse. You are my last resort.”
“He is young and has much to learn,” said the old man.
“He knows nothing. A braggart. A leaf who thinks he is the tree,” said Gilia.
“Give him time,” said Perdix. “He has many mistakes to make before humility’s robe he wears.”
“What is with you? Why do you keep putting me off? Are you ill? You look like you’ve aged a hundred years. I come to you for help. You give me dull words that are meaningless.”
“My magic fails me,” Perdix said. “No matter how hard I try. Nothing works.”
“Nonsense,” said the maid. “You’re simply suffering from a dry spell. Look at my nose. It is healed.”
“The pigs’ mud.”
“When all else fails, try the thing you absolutely know cannot succeed. The mud was my last resort.”
“It worked.”
“Yes, I did as you said. I had to. The knot threatened not only to overtake my nose but swallow my whole face. Do you see it? No. It’s gone. And I will smell like the hogs’ wallow for the rest of my life, but a little stink is a small price to pay for the radiant blossom of good health, is it not?”
“You make me laugh,” said Perdix. “I am glad you are well.”
“Me too. Your magic works. It just takes a little longer these days to kick in, that’s all. You need rest. Get some sleep. Come after your nap when your powers are restored. You must see what I am talking about, Perdix. If you do not help me, I fear the worst will overtake her.”
Gilia left the alchemist near Urien’s open door. It was there he overheard Galleron’s pleas for a cure for Wolfstan’s malady.
The young alchemist was prescribing mercury for the patient’s malodorous disease.
“But he has tried that to no avail,” said Galleron.
“But Wolfstan has yet to try my special ointment. I have added several secret ingredients to the quicksilver that are sure to free your master of this pox.”
“If Urien is right,” Perdix muttered, “I am a dead man.”
Chapter 15
The Fool’s Bargain
The sun shines, turning pallid skin to painful scarlet.
Tis better to hide from burning rays.
And rest where prying eyes will never peer.
*****
There was nothing more to be done. Perdix crawled into a dark corner of his workroom and plumped up the sack of straw he would sleep on.
His shoulders ached. His feet were sore. He sighed and closed his eyes.
“Scite,” he shouted, furiously.
The bedbugs were feeding on him like ravenous wolves. He clawed and pinched and finally got up from his bed. His body screamed for sleep, but it would evade him tonight.
He gathered his things and went to the chambers of the princess. One look at her told him his worst fears were true. By candlelight, he examined her neck. There were two tiny puncture wounds, deepest maroon surrounded by circles of dusky blue. She was pale and feverish and, Perdix was sure, a member of the clan of Ichor.
None of his ointments, salves, and elixirs would help her. He whispered to Gilia to keep the girl locked in her room, but he doubted that even the hawkeyed handmaid was up to the task.
“It is not hopeless,” he told Gilia, “but the situation is very grave. I will work on a solution. The best we can do right now is pray.”
For the old alchemist, there was nothing left to do but go back to his workbench. He lit a candle and sat down. Deep into the night, the dim glow from his window could be seen by the castle guards.
*****
I put on my best silk gown. I bathe with scented water. The first time, Wolfstan caught me by surprise. But I will be ready for him.
Gilia says I am unrecognizable. What am I doing to blossom so quickly? It must be thoughts of mar
riage, she says. Little does she know.
I hop into bed, pulling the covers to my chin. I think it lends a more dramatic flair to hide my coming surprise.
The footsteps outside my door grow louder.
“It is I,” Wolfstan says.
Gilia will hear him. But he does not care. She will wait a moment or two, and when I utter not a sound, she will go on about her business.
There is no scandal now. The ceremony is but days away.
“Ava.”
The running sores all over his face have dried a little. Still, anyone with half a brain can see he is not well. He hobbles toward my bed, unable to resist the lust that burns his loins.
I fling the covers back, just as he is ready to devour me.
He stops, his eyes round orbs. A wicked smile spreads across his face. He laughs with glee.
“You are so beautiful,” he says softly. “How can it be that such a child should grow so fair so quickly?”
I lower my head and look up at him with eyes half-closed. This works like a siren’s charm. I see his liver-colored tongue move slowly across his lips. His eyes are fiery coals. I smell his sweat, each pore so flooded with desire, and watch as passion swallows him completely.
“Ava.”
His voice is thick and low. His breath comes in short bursts. His heart is racing.
“Come,” I say. “It will all be yours soon, anyway.”
“They say you are barely thirteen,” he says. “They lie. What black sorcery has turned the slug into the butterfly?”
“Unmask yourself, Wolfstan. You see me as I am on the day that I was born. Will you not extend to me that same courtesy to see you? Take off the sack, and let my eyes feast upon that which is soon mine till death doth part us.”
He hesitates.
“The stories of your conquests, I have heard from many mouths.”
My words were like a spell, and in a trance, he disrobes before me.
What a pitiful sight. What a wretched specimen of manhood, diseased and filthy. He stands before me. I remain quiet, in shock to think this creature is my betrothed.
“Ava,” he says, and I note the slightest whimper in his voice.
I look at him and laugh. He is confused, unsure, trying hard to figure out what to do to regain the upper hand.
“I am overjoyed,” I say. “Overjoyed at the prospect of our union and the many offspring we will soon be having.”
He still says nothing.
“It is alright,” I murmur, much like a soothing mother to a wounded child.
I pat the covers.
“Come. I will take the curse and lift it far from you.”
He staggers, not believing my words.
“You do not speak, but your body talks for you.”
His jolly stick swells.
“Quick,” I say, “before the spindle faints and passion dies.”
Chapter 16
The Clan of Ichor
We close our lids to morning’s light.
We dream
Secure inside the Caves.
A peaceful place to digest all that we have fed upon.
*****
Perdix was awakened by a knock on his door. He was stiff and sore, having fallen asleep at his workbench with his head cradled in his arms on his work table.
“Xhahari,” Perdix said, glancing out the small window in the castle wall. “What are you doing here? The sun is not even awake.”
“Master,” said the young man. “You must do something. The people perish. Babies are being snatched from their mother’s breast. The Evil Ones seem to have a blood thirst that is unquenchable.”
Perdix dropped his head on his breast.
“What is it, Master? Does your heart grow weak?”
“My heart,” said Perdix, “is full of guilt. The pain of sadness threatens to stop its beating. What have I done?”
“What are you talking about?”
“It is my fault. All my fault. Believe me, Xhahari. I only meant to help, but for the blindness of my love, I am afraid I have unleashed a horrible thing.”
“Then, it is true. You wish to make the princess your own?”
“No, of course not. Who have you been talking to?”
“No one, but I listen to the gossips at the gate.”
“That is a mistake, Xhahari. You will learn nothing from busybodies. Lies and tall tales are not the stuff that makes a learned man.”
“Forgive me, Master.”
“There is nothing to forgive. You are young. There is much you still must learn.”
“What will you do?”
“Leave me.”
“No, Master. I will not. Kill me now, for I know you have the power. I will not leave you.”
“Come then,” said Perdix. “We have much work to do. The gods bless you.”
The bent finger, black with grime, reached to touch the youth’s forehead.
Xhahari saw the bluish-white bolt cross between the old man’s fingers and his forehead. It looked like a deadly jolt. His young body shuddered for several minutes, but he did not lose consciousness. The room was filled with a smoky haze. Xhahari coughed and wrinkled his nose at the strong odor.
Perdix looked at the boy. He nodded his head.
“Andolin,” the youth whispered.
“Yes,” said Perdix. “Now, you know my darkest secrets.”
Chapter 17
The Caves of Rotou
The twinkling stars.
The alabaster moon.
The stream of scarlet glistens.
A moonlit river
In moonlight’s soft glow tender.
*****
The Caves of Rotou sit high in the mountains near Castle Corlac. They are wonders of Nature, sheer rock walls, and so tall the clouds kiss their peaks. From here, darkling souls look down upon their prey.
The worn hollows in the barren, rocky crags have been safe havens for the Ichor for ages. Here the darklings rest. But in the valleys below, they mingle, walking among the human prey during the hours when daylight lures the unsuspecting from their dreary huts or beckons them to travel beyond the thick stone walls of the fortress.
*****
“Why are we packing all these things, Master?”
“I cannot know what we may need. I try to think of everything. I have seen the blacksmith. He has agreed to help me. I will go to him soon and gather all he has made. You are right, Xhahari,” said Perdix, “the people of this valley are hunted. I should have known better than to delve into the magic of the Infinite Shadows. All I have managed to do is add to their clan. More Ichor means more human sacrifices. What was I thinking?”
“Do not blame yourself, Master. Your love for the Princess made you want to help her.”
The old man’s eyes grew large. He hesitated.
“I forget you know my reasons,” said Perdix, “but you must never breathe a word of your knowledge to anyone.”
“You have my oath,” said the young man. “But there are many things I do not understand. Why did you go to the Queen to sire a child in the first place? There was already a male heir, five years old at the time.”
“It’s complicated,” said Perdix. “The king cannot perform his manly duties. He has never been able to but that was a secret closely guarded. I was younger. My alchemy was strong, but no spell was strong enough to make his seed fertile.
Everything was tried.
The King wanted a male child. He was obsessed with having one. And the Queen was just as desperate to give him what he wanted. He would rid himself of her and find another female womb more fertile.
Dyryke was my rival. His magic was quite powerful. I still believe that if he’d only worked with me, instead of against me, we could have found a potion to make the spindle of the King work as it should.
But Dyryke would not hear of it.
He went to the Queen in secret with a plan to give the King an heir.”
“But why would Her Majesty agree to such a scheme?”
“Dyryke was incredibly beguiling. As subtle as the serpent in the Garden. You cannot know. I understand totally why she agreed to his plan. My rival was the most handsome, charming fellow in Megara. If he had come to me with the same bargain that he made Her Majesty, I would have lain with him myself.”
Xhahari laughed.
“What a wicked thing to say, Master.”
“Wicked or not, it’s true. Dyryke convinced her to give His Excellency an elixir to make the King sleep soundly. It worked. As our King snored beside the Queen, Dyryke came to her.”
“In the same bed?”
“Of course. You would not expect Her Majesty to couple with another man on the cold stone floor of her chamber.”
“I’m not sure what I expect,” said Xhahari.
“And as luck would have it, her womb was fertile, and the seed Dyryke planted within her took hold. She was with child.
The King was overjoyed. Dyryke convinced His Majesty that the omens were good and that all the signs pointed favorably for a male heir to be conceived.
The King and Queen made the most of this great news, drinking and feasting privately in her chambers. After drinking the potion, he remembered feeling the heat grow inside his body.
He remembered nothing else of that night. The Queen told His Majesty that he had conquered her, that he was a beast whose passion was unquenchable.
The King lapped up her compliments like a hog at the slopping trough.
The male child was born. The bells tolled. But their joy was short-lived.”
“He did not live long. I have heard the stories,” said Xhahari.
“You have heard the stories that were allowed to be spread. They did their job. Throughout the realm, there was much sorrow. The royal child died in his sleep. His soul was taken by evil spirits intent on breaking His Majesty’s heart. I know the stories, Xhahari. I spread them myself.”
“To protect the Queen?”
“To save the realm,” said the old man.
“What really happened?” Xhahari asked.
“That little boy that disappeared at five years of age was not the true heir to the throne. Dyryke and the Queen drowned the child that resulted from their union. The second, the one that everyone thought was the original baby, suffered a fate worse than death, I’m afraid.”