Ascalla's Daughter

by M. C. Elam

  “Be quick, boy. What happened?”

  “The dark man grabbed hold to me and put a knife against my neck. Asked Melendarius if my life be worth a tankard or two more. I guessed I was about to be dead. Froze stiff standing there and that thing biting my neck. Dark man made Melendarius fetch more ale, but when he brought it close, it wasn’t ale at all but hot barley water that mama had set to simmer over the fire for the morning meal. Flung one whole tankard into the dark man’s face and hit the other one the same way. They went to howling, and I was loose. Then it got real bad. The dark man he grabbed a hold a Melendarius and cracked his scull two, three time against the floor. I jumped on his back and tried to make him let go. He slung me off like I wasn’t nothing, and the other one give me a crack. Guess I started yelling then. Yelling loud as I could. I saw the dark man coming for me with that knife, but he grabbed me up and threw me into the wall. I lay real still where I lit. Held my breath when they come looking and heard them say as how I was dead. They give Melendarius a kick or two, real hard. Hurt him bad. I hid my face and let on like I was dead, just like they thought.

  “Then Lady Evan, she come out to the loft rail. They saw her right away. Fought them hard, but they cracked her in the face and knocked her silly. I heard the dark one say how they could sell her did they haul her off to the slave market. She come to a while after that, and they ordered up more ale. Least the other one did. Dark man he was more interested in Lady Evan. She told him her name be Ceri. Heard her say it. Why’d she do that Marcus?” He didn’t pause for an answer. Now that the well had opened the story tumbled free. “They talked as how my Mama was comely enough to bring good silver to market and they’d take her, too. But in the morning, it weren’t Mama that come. It be Annabelle. Dark man knocked her on the head and said as how she was old but might bring a fair price. Heaved her over his shoulder, and they was off.” Jem fell silent a moment then looked toward the loft rail. “My fault.”

  “No boy, it wasn’t your fault.” Marcus patted his shoulder.

  “Aye, was so. If I hadn’t a hollered, Lady Evan would never have come to see about the ruckus. Dark man might not a seen her at all. Then when they took her and Annabelle, I just laid there on my belly ‘til Horace come. I got the stink of a coward on me.”

  “I see it different, boy. I see as how you played it smart. Nothing a boy the size of a toady-frog could do against two grown men. Nothing but watch and listen so he can tell what happened when the time be right. Don’t think you’re a coward either. Coward wouldn’t a tried to pull them off Melendarius, now would he?”

  “No, sir. Not a chance I’d have made out fighting them. Big one said how I was a poor excuse dying like I did and how if I was breathing they’d a taken me instead of Annabelle.”

  Marcus clenched his fists driving the nails into his palms until they drew blood. He’d been all set to level blame on that Lawrenzian bastard instead of worthless, shit for brains thieves preying on good folks, putting their filthy hands on women and beating an old man and boy. Scabby-faced beggars not worth a pint of their own piss, he’d shave the meat off their bones when he caught them. Damned if he wouldn’t.

  “You bring her back, Marcus?”

  The span of no more than a foot existed between Jem and the linen mask that covered the lower half of his face. He caught the boy’s eyes and held them with his own. “I be doing just that, boy.”

  The fire that crackled in the grate sending fingers of heat into the large room did little for the icy chill in Jem’s blood. “I be set on coming with you.” He half expected Marcus to make some grumble about his size or his age, half expected him to shrug off any idea he’d be worth his salt, and he supposed he couldn’t blame him much on that account seeing as how he’d played possum when they dragged Lady Evan and Annabelle off like that.

  “Your ma’ll be dead against that, but way I see it, you earned the right.”

  24 - Obedience

  “How many?” Hawk demanded.

  “Two by Jem’s count. Annabelle be pretty bad from frost devils. Fever got hold of her, too. Drifts in and out and calls for Lady Evan, but she told how one fella be dead, fell clean off the ledge.”

  “Not a delusion from her fever?”

  “Nay, she told all the particulars.”

  Clad in trail leathers and covered with mud, his fury unmistakable, Hawk paced in front of the fire. More than a month ago, the men from Lawrenzia had abducted Evangeline and Annabelle. Part of him wanted to lash out at Marcus for bringing her to Baline. The rest of him knew that nothing Marcus said could have stopped her once she made-up her mind. He slumped on a stool across the table from the knight.

  “You best out with the rest of it. What does that wizened old man have to do with anything?”

  “That be Melendarius. He told Lady Evan right off she be daughter of the Earth Mother. Told how she had healing hands. Melendarius be strong in the powers. Lady Evan’s got them, too.”

  “Enough to hold off men like the two who abducted her and Annabelle?”

  “Aye, enough for that and plenty more,” Marcus stroked his chin, “plenty more.”

  “Then why didn’t he stop them? Why didn’t she?” He slammed a fist against the tabletop.

  “The way of it be hidden from me, milord, or I’d answer you true.”

  Jenny drew two large tankards from a keg behind the bar and closed the tap. She approached the round table and handed one to Marcus. She set the other near Hawk. Foam sloshed over the side and pooled on the stained wooden surface. She snatched a towel kept tucked inside her waistband and mopped it up before it could dribble onto the floor. As nervous as she felt, she had to speak her mind.

  Marcus caught her determined expression. “Jenny girl, what be vexing you?”

  “Got to tell Milord Hawk about Melendarius. Mayhap he don’t know.” She clasped her hands to keep them from shaking and squeezed her fingers so tight the knuckles turned white.

  Hawk turned his attention to her, but she averted her eyes.

  “I got to tell him about the way of things in Baline. How we be shadow people, children of the Mother. Born from the land and the land’s got ways no man knows. The Mother taught us to tend the land, whole world even.”

  Hawk touched her shoulder, and she jumped. “You don’t have to be afraid of me, Jenny. I know the ways of which you speak. My grandfather took them from the people of Baline, didn’t he?”

  “Aye, forbidden they was. My mam told me old King John didn’t hold with nothing like that. But she taught me, and I taught my boy, Jem. Been that way a long time now, teaching done in secret.”

  “So that’s how Jem’s feigned death went undetected?” he asked.

  “I taught him how to hide by being still as death. My mam hid among the dying the day the raid come that wiped out Baline. Lot of the old ways disappeared for good except in us what lived.”

  “I thought no one survived.”

  “Some did. Took up jobs all across Ascalla. Some like my mam went back to the forest shadows living with the trees. Safest way be to keep mum and bide time. Then Lady Evan come, and Marcus, he stopped in every village along the way, telling folks how the Lady of Baline come home. All those folks told other folks. So shadow people come home, Milord. Melendarius, he said as how Lady Evan be born a priestess of the Mother. I be no lady or nothing grand as that, but I be born of the shadow people.”

  “What do you mean, shadow people?”

  “Children of the Mother be the way to tell it. All of us has got ways.”

  Hawk looked helpless to understand.

  “Ways,” she repeated. “Ways tell me you know spider talk.”

  The intake of his breath was an audible gasp. How could she know about Coreantha? No one save Terill knew about the giant spider or that ever since the encounter in the cave he carried the language of spiders in his head and still heard them when one came near.

  “That is true, but how did you know?”

  “Because I’ve got the w
ays. Not strong, like Lady Evan, mind you. The Mother lives in her.” Some of the fear Jenny had felt when she started to speak disappeared, easing the tension from her voice. “Everybody in Baline’s got the ways of the Mother inside them. Shows up like a little shimmer.” She nodded toward Marcus, “Him too. Melendarius showed me how to see the glow. He be calling it an aura what flickers in the eyes. Words don’t mean nothing to me, but I see that light, feel it when I look on someone that knows the ways. I got to tell you Milord Hawk. The Mother’s called her children back to Baline. They come for her, and they come for Lady Evan.”

  “I might be willing to believe you, especially when you mention spider talk. But if Melendarius is so strong in the teaching of the Earth Mother, why didn’t he stop those men from taking her?”

  ***

  “The Mother suspected I might intervene and rendered me immobile. Evan follows a preordained path.” Melendarius stood beside the loft rail. Chinera nuzzled one hand while the other curled around Lunarey. “Jenny, I’ve a mighty hunger, if you’ll oblige.”

  “You think of your gut, now?” Furious, Hawk started for the stairway. “I’d as soon split your skull as know you could have saved her and didn’t”

  “I could have and would have. Are you deaf young King of Ascalla? I lay in a state of paralysis. Every step Evan took, I saw. Every horrid action, I witnessed. I have cursed the Mother a hundredfold for denying my powers.”

  “And still you serve her?”

  “Still and always.”

  Hawk started up the stairs and Marcus rose to follow. He took one step and then another. By the third, he found both feet fastened firmly to the floor and Melendarius casting thoughts into his head.

  Ease off, Marcus. I am in no danger.

  Hawk reached the landing and strode across the loft.

  “You wish to strike me, young King Hawk.”

  “I wish to bludgeon the head of a fool.”

  “What of the dragon who swears her allegiance to you? What of the wonders you witnessed inside the caves of Shadall? The lost warriors weep for you today. Will you save them or abandon them? Think of the stag that carries the spirit of your father through the eternal spring of Pandera’s Forest. Give thought to that. The Mother lives in you, James Ian Hawkins, High King. Evan guards the heart of Ascalla. Deny the Mother and you lose her and Ascalla for good.”

  The old man’s words curtailed Hawk’s intent. Save his father, Hawk had told no one about what occurred inside the Caves of Shadall. Perhaps Melendarius was an old fool, but if he was, how did he know so much or command such loyalty from everyone around him. The villagers revered him. The same day he awoke from his long sleep, they came to the inn bearing small tokens. Not for Hawk, though they bowed and greeted him as their sovereign. The gifts were for Melendarius. Almost like Father Wryth giving a blessing, he laid a hand on each head and spoke in a tongue foreign to Hawk accept for two words, his name and Evan’s.

  “What does he say to them?” He leaned close to Marcus as he watched them file past the old man now sitting hearthside. Evan’s wolf rested her great head on his boney knee.

  “I be knowing a bit of the words, Milord Hawk. He tells them that the Mother, Anutaya, protects Lady Evan and calls them to follow you when the time be right.”

  “You believe him about the Mother?”

  “Aye.”

  “How can you be so certain?”

  Marcus drew the linen mask from his face. “Look upon my face, Milord.”

  He turned expecting to see the damp mask that concealed a gaping hole that oozed drool and caused Marcus such misery of spirit. Instead, when the man removed his mask, Hawk beheld a face aged and lined but still handsome. A thin white seam, barely discernible beneath a trimmed moustache sealed the split lip.

  “I believe, Milord.”

  “Your mouth, Marcus. How?”

  “Was Lady Evan, Milord. She be the one. Healed me and gave me my heart’s desire.”

  “May I?”

  “Aye, if touching be needful in you.”

  Hawk’s thumb stroked the place where the seam brought the two sides of Marcus’s upper lip together. He left it there longer than he intended, and then, as if it embarrassed him to touch the man in so intimate a manner, drew his hand back. “Evan did this?”

  “Aye, the day she sent Klea and me to Falmora.”

  “Evan did this.” He repeated the phrase as if saying the words made what he thought impossible more real. “My Evan did this?”

  “Aye, she did. Melendarius taught her the Mother’s healing.”

  “But no one can heal such a thing as that.”

  “Lady Evan can. Ask him.” He nodded toward Melendarius. “You got to believe what’s in front of your own eyes. He says her ways for healing be greater than his. Mayhap all her ways be greater.”

  ***

  The days dragged into another full week before Klea crested the long hill above Baline and led a full regiment into the village. By the time they arrived Hawk knew his plan to march across the mountains and into Lawrenzia was impossible. Choked with ice and snow the mountains formed an impenetrable wall. At first, he insisted they must try, but Marcus led him high into the range a few miles from the arch. Faced with drifts more than twenty feet deep, he agreed they must turn back. Stubborn determination made him cling to the idea of an early spring attack.

  “Nay, son. You will know precisely the time for an invasion.” By example, the same way he had taught Evan, Melendarius won Hawk’s confidence.

  “But how will I know?”

  “The Mother will make the path clear.”

  “The Mother, the Mother, always the Mother with you. Where is this Mother? Show her to me. Let her come forth.”

  “She surrounds you. In Chinera, in Marcus, in all of us.”

  “In my father?”

  “Nay, not in your father. He did not spring from the shadow people, though the ones gone before welcomed his spirit. The essence of the Mother that you carry stemmed from your mother. She was a priestess of Anutaya.”

  They walked along the edge of the little stream, Chinera between them. Baline shrank in the distance and the voices of Marcus and Klea drilling the regiment faded. The inn and every cottage burst at the seams trying to house all of them. The overflow sheltered in hastily constructed canvas lean-tos. The high guard, Ascalla’s best, scrubbed and polished, pranced and sparred in the muddy fields.

  “I don’t hear them anymore,” said Hawk. They had crossed the stream in a place where the swiftness of the current ebbed and a thick crust of ice let them walk over the top. Heavy tree cover and a fresh blanket of snow damped the sound.

  “Nor I, lad.”

  “They are fearsome, my warriors.”

  “And devoted to you, young Hawk. They will follow your command.”

  “In the spring we will go.”

  “They are too few. Go in the spring and many will die.”

  Melendarius kept walking. He and Chinera seemed to find a trail where none existed. They led Hawk up a gentle rise, above the stream, and then onto a plateau where the water fell away in a rush of white foam and plunged into a pool at the bottom. Hawk thought he meant to climb down to the pool, but Melendarius stopped on the plateau.

  “Here is the place I first spoke to her.”

  “Evan?”

  “Aye. She swam in the pool below. I had not seen her since she was a small child, living with Marcus and Granny Stone. Such a simple thing as swimming here filled her with joy. Her heart burst with the freedom of the day. She was like the wild things that run across the plain, like the song of the lark and the whisper of wind in the pines.”

  The old man’s voice held a musical cadence that lulled Hawk like a mother’s lullaby. He peered into the pool below. He knew the water must be warm, inviting, and he imagined the way it would feel against his skin. The mist dissipated in the air and blended with the froth from the rushing water, but in the center, it lay thick over the pool. The spot drew Hawk’s eye
. Inside the milky shroud an open space appeared. The space widened until the bubbling water turned clear. Evan disappeared beneath the surface, and when next he glimpsed her, she stood bare skinned at the water’s edge.

  “Evan!” Her name exploded from him, and he started down the rocky slope.

  “Stop, lad. She’s no longer there. What you see is an event from the past.”

  “Why?”

  “I showed you the image because you still do not trust the ways of the Mother and because I can show you the future as well.”

  “I can see Evan?”

  “Aye, if the Mother permits.”

  Hawk climbed back to the place where Melendarius stood.

  “Show me.”

  “You may find her future circumstance dismal.”

  “Show me.”

  Melendarius raised his staff. “Look through the trees and imagine you can see the mountains. See the snow-laden trails. Imagine you can pass them and descend to the bog land.” His voice took on that same melodious hum that had opened the mist. “The bog mist disappears and grasslands spread before you in a wide vista. A tributary of the Ruby River you know in Ascalla lies to the north. Follow the stream until it flows into another wider expanse of water. Here is the sister of the Ruby. Lawrenzian folk call it the Osway. Brenan’s Fist, the road to Brendemore cuts through the grassland and follows the swollen river. Brendemore grows tall on the horizon. Through the gates and off to the side, you follow a narrow cart trail and enter the dark places of Brendemore, far from the extravagance of the gilded castle where Peter Brenan displays his wealth. Follow the cart trail a mile into the city. Stockade fencing, like that which houses an army barracks, surrounds the place where Evan abides. In the center is an auction block where men barter and trade in human flesh. At the edge, a stable’s closed wall faces two wire fences that run parallel, in between the no man’s land where guards patrol. Open your eyes.”

  Through the trees in front of him, Hawk saw a wrinkle forming in space. The wrinkle twisted and stretched wider until, beyond the opening, he saw a scantily furnished room. A girl, pale and thin, sat on a low bench before a dressing table. Behind her, another tamed her rich dark curls in a braided and coiled it around her head.