Aludra kept her head down and her mouth closed, allowing the High Priestess to do as she pleased. Her breathing didn’t change but her pale cheeks reddened.
“Well, no time for that now,” the High Priestess said and let go of Aludra’s hands. Aludra held them up where the High Priestess left them until the older woman said, “Put your hands down, girl.” She did as commanded, letting them fall with a soft smack to her thighs.
“I suppose you know what today is.”
“Yes mother.”
The High Priestess flicked her claw like hand toward the door, dismissing the robed figure.
“Good. Your things have been packed and are waiting for you at the gate. Tell me again what you are after so I know you won’t go astray.”
“I am after the One-Who-Will-Join-The-Worlds.” Aludra’s voice scratched from her throat. Though she didn’t look up, her eyes sparkled with uncensored glee. Her voice resounded through the quiet room, amplified with her anticipation. “The One who will set us free and give us ultimate power.”
“And what are you?”
“I am the chosen one, the seeker, the one who will find the spirit needed for the long awaited ritual.”
“The time of union is near. You will do as foretold and bring the spirit here. Capture it on September ninth and bring it here by midnight. You have six days. On the ninth, Rory will become one. Rory will join the worlds, as the Dark One has decreed.” Her body quivered. If Aludra were watching, she would have seen the High Priestess flick her pointed tongue over her upper lip; she would’ve seen the ecstasy in the old woman’s smooth face.
“Yes, High Priestess.” Aludra looked up in time to see her master gliding out of the room, the shadows in the folds of her cloak deep enough to hide the moon and stars. Aludra smiled, showing all her teeth. From the top drawer of her desk, she took out a black leather case. It was the size and shape of an envelope with straps extending from either side. She lifted her shirt and tied the case around her waist then unzipped the top and placed her razor, her butterfly Band-Aids, and some gauze inside.
Afterwards, she wiped away the blood running down her inner thigh, butterflied the wound closed, then taped gauze over the top of it. Once done, she poked her wound and smiled when a spot of red seeped through.
She’d pilfered her little toys from the medicine cabinet when she was only a teenager, after she’d accidentally cut herself and needed to be tended. The High Priest had dressed her wounds then, Aludra couldn’t help touching the cut after she’d left his presence, making it bleed more, tasting herself. She’d wanted more of it, so she had stolen what she needed to ensure she’d be able to feel that way again, feel in a way she’d never felt before. Purification through pain. That’s what she’d learned. And the pain was so good.
Later. More time for that later. She smoothed her skirts and checked that the flat case wasn’t showing through her tight, black sweater. The end of her braid bounced off her calves as she nearly skipped across the room to her closet. She grabbed a pair of black pants, exchanging them for the skirt she wore. After strapping a sheathed dagger around her mid-section, she left the room, speeding along her way.
She spoke to no one as she walked through the dark manor. The vast building had no windows and used candles to light the halls and rooms. Various individuals seemed to float through the background, their brown robes brushing the floor, hiding their feet, hoods hiding faces, sleeves hiding hands. Several had small blades tucked into their rope belts.
Candles gave the interior a fluttery light. People with books sat next to the larger candelabras. Somewhere, a melodic drumming accompanied by violin drifted through the building, almost too soft to notice. The heavy scent of incense hung in the air. In the great entrance, a large, black cross hung upside down, red liquid running down it and the wall beneath to fall in a basin below; from the basin, the thick liquid trickled over into a larger bowl. Stacked skulls cradled the larger one, every other ghastly visage with tea lights illuminating the eyes.
Aludra stopped in front of the shrine, surrounded by large black candles that never seemed to go out. She stooped, cupped her hand, and drank from the fountain, licking the red from her lips as she stood, wiping the rest on the back of her sleeve. She faced the door and stepped toward it, her gait hesitant, slow. This was it. This was what she’d been trained to do her whole life. At the entrance, she tented her fingers over the large door and stopped, her other hand on the lever that would unlock the gate outside, and sighed. She closed her eyes and shuddered, then stood straight, fixed her gaze, and pulled the lever.
Outside, she blinked in the moonlight and sniffed the air. Open. Different from what she’d expected. She looked over her shoulder as the door swung shut behind her. A tear streaked her pale cheek, eyes glittering. She smiled into the night. With a soft click the steel bars rose, tipped with spikes on the bottom and top. She stooped under the bottom spikes, a prance in her step as her feet crunched over dried leaves.
Once outside the gates, she ran forward, eager to reach the trees, and then she stopped and faced the manor. The front of the building jutted from the side of the Wicklow Mountains in Ireland, unnoticeable to the average passerby. Not that there would be anyone walking around out here. When the High Priest first took refuge in this part of the mountain range, he set magical wards with the Dark Lord’s help to confuse travelers and make them go in any direction other than toward the manor. Secluded by a forgotten waterfall, the Order managed to stay hidden from the world.
The moon shone just over the mountain’s peak, still rising. Stars sparkled in the dark blue blanket above her. She heard a soft rhythmic roaring and knew it was the ocean. The scent of salt water drifted to her in the surrounding mist.
“Wow,” she said. “Stars.” The pictures she’d seen in all the books she’d read hadn’t done them justice. For her first time outside, she couldn’t have asked for better. She looked at the dark manor again, grinned, and turned to the trees crowding her home.
Something scuttled in the bushes to her right, rattling the branches. She flinched, on her guard. A cricket chirped to her left. She stopped. An owl hooted above her. She looked up, eyes wide, mouth gaping. As the night lived around her, as the animals scurried and made their animal noises, as the wind blew and the stars turned, Aludra laughed hysterically, a dark, twisted laugh that would make children think of the monsters hiding under their beds.
The doorway she sought waited behind another forgotten waterfall. She traipsed onward. Through a patch of flat ground, she stepped into something springy, a bog. The High Priestess had warned her that these would be on her path to the doorway. Halfway across the green trap, her left leg sunk down to the knee, soaking her pants with icy water. She laughed as she pulled herself out and the bog made a sucking sound, not ready for her to leave.
It didn’t take her long to reach the waterfall. Iridescent light pulsed from behind the curtain of flowing blue. As she inched along the wet rock ledge, she hugged the cliff, her cheek scraping granite. Far below, the ocean—which had sounded so soothing before—crashed against the jagged rocks. Her heart pulsed in her throat.
Her foot slipped. As she scrabbled for purchase on the cliff side, she thought in that moment that she would die before fulfilling her purpose. Her knee banged the ledge and her fingers bled as she regained her balance. Panting, wide eyed, she pulled herself up and examined her index finger where the nail used to be. A runnel of blood ran down her arm. She stuck her finger in her mouth, savoring the taste and the sting.
Moments later she was behind the waterfall.
The doorway to Rory was even more beautiful than she’d imagined. She held her breath as she approached. It looked like a radiant blue mirror, but the surface rippled like a small pool of water that had a rock dropped in the center, the rings extending to the outer edges. The frame was hand-carved flowers that seemed to sway in the breeze. Aludra gazed at her distorted reflection.
As she reached to touch the surface, s
he made sure to keep her eyes open, not wanting to miss anything. The instant her fingers broke the blue surface, tendrils shot out of the doorway and wrapped around her, dragging her into the portal. The aqua light pulsed all around her, blinding her, spinning her.
And then her feet hit solid ground.
She stood behind another waterfall, but she knew right away this wasn’t the same place she’d just been. The water sounded softer, not as full. She couldn’t smell salt in the air. She crept out from behind the cascading liquid and found herself in a dense forest, the sharp smell of greenery all around her.
An image flashed in her mind. Bleeding, beaten woman, abandoned blue car, wolves, and… “The spirit,” she said.
“I feel you,” she sang, drawing out the “oo” sound as she walked in a straight line, head forward, sure of her footing. She wondered if the spirit could feel her, too. The High Priestess said they would feel each other, that they would be drawn to one another. Aludra focused herself, centered her mind on the female half of Rory and pushed.
Nothing.
She pushed again.
All her training, all the things she’d been taught told her that she would be able to send a signal to the spirit that would draw it to her. She’d trained on how to make this signal. And now the signal wasn’t working. Her throat constricted in a moment of panic. If the spirit couldn’t feel her, if the spirit wasn’t drawn to her, would she be able to bring it back in time for the ritual? She only had six days.
“I’ll find you,” she whispered. She wouldn’t allow this to come between her and her purpose. If she couldn’t draw the spirit to her, she would simply need to work harder to go to it. And it was so close now. The spirit’s presence pulsed within her, filling her mind, pulling her toward it, guiding her through the night. Only six days until the ritual.
Not far from the doorway, Aludra slept through the sunshine of the first day, knowing she had time, though not much, knowing she needed her rest. She awoke on her second night out to begin her journey.
After walking for some time without veering from her point of focus, except to go around a tree or a bush she couldn’t simply march through, she stopped to look over her shoulder. She gazed into the distance as if looking through the forest instead of at anything in it. She sighed. Her features almost trembled, a slight rippling of the flesh as her emotions tried to make her face take on an altered form. It was so different outside. Lonely, even. The unexpected forlornness was almost enough to consume her. But she was the chosen one. She shook her head, straightened, and continued on her forward path. Such new sensations made her long for the manor, for the monks therein and for the sights and sounds of the candlelit corridors.
She’d be back soon enough. First, she had to fulfill her purpose, so she proceeded with her journey. The moon hovered in the sky, lighting her way. Aludra didn’t notice the passage of time, since there were so many new things to look at. Everything fascinated her. While she didn’t stop to digest every item, she found herself pausing time and again to analyze some things more closely.
At one point, she came to a clearing. She slowed her pace, head cocked, eyebrows scrunched as she stared at something unfamiliar crossing her path. “What…” she began as she paused just behind the tree line. She looked at the black thing that divided the vegetation and covered the earth. When she came out of hiding, her braid whipped around her.
The thing on the ground made a flat sound like a heavy stone when she tapped it with her foot. The long flat rock glittered like diamonds in the moonlight, a black river of stars. With her breath held, she stepped onto it.
Nothing happened.
“Hah!” She jumped up and down on the rock and giggled, the loud clopping echoing in the distance.
Something large rustled the bushes across from her, interrupting her glee. She stopped jumping. Her stomach clenched and she held her breath as she pierced the shaking plant with her gaze. Conflicting emotions battled for dominance in her mind. In one moment, the need to flee gripped her, insisting she didn’t want to know what hid there, that it would harm her in some way. The next moment, she wanted to stomp over to the shrub and break its branches for making her feel things she hadn’t since childhood, when she would disobey and need to be punished. Before punishment became sweet release. She would destroy the thing, she decided, because, as the chosen one, it was her obligation to do so.
Before she could act, however, a scraggly man who looked more like a disheveled beast, lumbered through the greenery, hollering in a high pitched voice. She didn’t step back, but watched him with mixed amusement and repulsion.
“Get off m’road!” he bellowed.
“What?” She spat the word, glaring at the man. “How dare you…”
He clenched his fists and growled. Then he looked her in the eye and said, “You’re on m’fuckin’ road, bitch!”
“You insignificant little…”
“You gots ta pay to be on me road.” He jabbed himself in the chest with his thumb when he said “me” hard enough to make a sound. He jingled when he moved. He was now close enough for Aludra to smell him. She crinkled her nose at the pungent, sour-sweat odor oozing from his clothes, accosting her senses, but she held her ground. She knew a threat when she heard one, had punished many Order members for their insolence. The wind picked up, wafting his stench toward her.
“What do you mean pay, you filthy slime?”
“I owns this ‘ere road. You wanna walk it, you pay me.” When he slapped his open palm against his chest to emphasize the point, dust and odor puffed out. He swayed on the spot. “It’s mine. You gots ta pay. Pay me now!”
“Get out of my way, you filthy, overgrown…”
He let loose something close to a howl and lunged at her. His looping gait provided more than enough time to react; she had quick reflexes. In one motion, she pulled her silver dagger from its sheath and plunged it into his gut, forcing the blade upward. Warm blood gushed through his thick clothes, spreading black in the moonlight. His shocked eyes stared into hers as he gulped his last breaths. She went with him as he slumped to “his” road, first to his knees, then to his side. Aludra watched him with cold, glaring eyes as she cleaned and sheathed her blade.
Kneeling down, she leaned into his face, his acrid breath burning her nose, and whispered, “You didn’t see that one coming, did you, old man?” She petted his forehead. “No, you sure didn’t.” Blood trickled from his mouth.
“Bitch,” he managed through gasps. Red saliva sprayed from his lips, a shower of rubies when he spat his last word, and spattered on her face and hair. She wrapped her fingers around his throat and squeezed, feeling her hands slick over his blood, sweat, and grime. His Adam’s apple moved up and down, berating her palm as she applied more pressure. Not having much life left in him, the old man could only manage one feeble attempt to push her away before his eyes rolled back in his sockets, reflecting the moon in his pupils as he stared into nothing.
Aludra had remained calm as she throttled him, her sleek muscles working, contracting, bringing the force of her grip around his windpipe. “Sleep now,” she said when he died.
The moment his life departed a bright light stabbed through the dark, illuminating the old man, but nothing else. Long, luminescent tendrils reached from the darkness above and sank into him. When they came out, they dragged with them a glowing shadow that took on the vague shape of the human form from which it was pulled. The shadow raged, thrashing and glaring at Aludra as the tendrils pulled it away.
She gazed at the lit form, mouth hanging open. “Wow,” she whispered. His spirit. The tendrils retreated, bringing the soul with them. Then the light that had shown down on the man was gone. She stood, wiped her bloodied hands on her clothes, and continued on her path, occasionally looking back at the place where they had appeared and the spirit-shadow had vanished. So, that’s where they’re all trapped. All the beings she and her coven sought to free. She then disappeared into the trees on the other side of the road
.
Her path through the forest led her alongside the very road the old man once guarded. Dawn crept over the sky, lighting Aludra’s way. She yawned, then squinted against the glare. She’d never seen such bright light. The early-morning sun burned.
Rory continued to elude her as she bent her thoughts in that direction. Frustration made her tense. She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, pulling at a loose thread. It seemed the spirit was further and further away every day. She was already pushing herself to her limits. So tired. Maybe she wasn’t sending her signal correctly.
She tried again, forcing the push, broadcasting the signal that would draw Rory to her. After several minutes she gave up again and continued looking for a place to rest. Maybe with more energy she could make it work.
Eventually, she came to a house and observed from the tree line as a woman crouched among many plants, stabbing at the earth with some strange tool, her back to Aludra. She’d seen the tool before but never had seen it used in this way. She emerged from hiding, unaware that blood still spotted her face and stained her hands.
She stood behind the woman, watching. Finally, exhausted and curious, ready to try something new, she said, “Excuse me.”
The woman jumped then spun around. Her blue eyes widened and she gaped at Aludra.
“Have you experienced the pleasures of pain?” The High Priest had often preached to her about the pleasures of pain, had taught her how to transform any sensation into something exquisite. She knew this woman wasn’t capable of feeling what Aludra could feel, but she thought it might be fun to play with her a bit. She’d never played with another person and wondered what it would be like. Aludra’s grin widened and her eyes blazed. “I could show you new levels of pleasure,” she said and reached for the woman, the blood from the road man bright on her pale skin.
Women Scorned Page 4