She wished she'd died in the dungeons instead.
Yarrow
The next morning, she and Jules would begin their arduous trek into the mountains, beyond the borders of Athering. Legends held that Mt. Impri was full of caves, made livable by some exiled Queen or other. Yarrow hoped that was true. As wonderful as it was to stay with Dion and Aurora, she knew that she and Jules endangered their lives a little more every day they delayed. They didn't want to push Fortuna harder than necessary.
"Until the last day of the funeral," she'd said to him on their first night there, and he'd agreed readily. The next two days he'd spent with his family, joining them for two-thirds of the time during which the family was to sit with the body and prepare it for burning. He'd missed the first day altogether, as that was the day they'd ridden into Atton. He'd spent the required seven days at the temple, so Yarrow did not think that the Sisters of Mercy would begrudge him one day.
Yarrow, with nothing to do except lie as low as possible, found herself spending any time she didn't use to pace her balcony or practise swordplay in the drawing room with the brother and sister team that ran the tavern. She and Aurora had become fast friends -- as friendly as she could be with someone from whom she was hiding her identity. She found herself spending a lot of time with the shorter woman -- no doubt to assuage the loss she felt at leaving Ghia and Anala.
"Why 'Bacchanaila'?" she'd asked Aurora the first day as she sat at the bar. She'd taken to keeping her hair tightly tied back and slicked with some pomade she'd found in town, making it look almost brown, and wearing clothing that showed off her tattoo as much as possible. Not many people knew Bellica Yarrow had a tattoo. It was a mark of a commoner.
Aurora was wiping down the bar, considering her answer. "You're from Atherton, so you've been to services at the Temple on Jourd'Aradia, right?"
"I've been a time or two," the ex-bellica hedged, having never been for sevenday services in her life. She'd gone for other, more specialised cases.
Aurora smiled, and Yarrow got the feeling that the woman hadn't gone that often herself. "Ever notice the list of Goddesses is really incredibly long?"
That she did know, having read a few books on mythology. There were myriad Goddesses in Athering. All were honoured at Temple, but most people just focused on their regional cults. Yarrow had never looked past Bellona, the Sisters of Mercy, or Juno -- the last usually as a curse more than an actual working relationship between deity and supplicant. She nodded at Aurora, her curiosity piqued. She'd never heard of a Goddess named Bacchanalia.
"Well," and here Aurora leaned in closer to Yarrow, as if she was sharing a big secret, "some Goddesses are actually...Gods." She winked conspiratorially.
Yarrow laughed. "Really."
Aurora held her hand up and laughed with Yarrow. "Tavern owner's honor! Some Atherians actually worship...Gods." She whispered, as if it were a scandal. Yarrow laughed some more.
Then stopped, thinking back. She'd heard some Nucalif folk call out for a 'Poseidon' as their battle cry. During the Campaign she'd thought it a figure from history or somesuch, but now she wasn't so sure. Perhaps they'd been calling to a god peculiar to their area. Too, the Vocans worshipped a god almost exclusively. Mayhap it was not so strange as it sounded.
"I take it They're paid more attention in Their regional cults," Yarrow said.
"Oh, to be sure. I'll admit I don't know much about the others, but here in Atton we are blessed with a type of grape that survives our cold weather, and makes a wonderful wine -- our most prosperous export." She smiled around at the tavern, and Yarrow noticed anew the many bottles of wine they had. "It's thanks to the bounty of the Wine God that we prosper here in Atton, so at Temple we pay heed to Bacchus. As well as the rest of the Goddesses," she added hastily, and Yarrow almost laughed. Aurora didn't need to fear Yarrow would find her blasphemous.
"Of course," Yarrow agreed, returning the smile. "Bacchanalia is His festival, then?"
"When the first batch of grapes ripens," Aurora said with a wistful smile on her face. "Usually sometime between Midspring and Midsummer, but we've had it as late as the end of Quatra before."
"I hope I'm able to attend this year's," Yarrow said politely, but she doubted it would happen.
"It would be wonderful to have you there, Achi," Aurora said, and Yarrow smiled harder, trying to conceal the truth about her name. It was so strange to be referred to by her middle moniker. "It's a beautiful festival -- a full sevenday long, with feasting and carousing and partying. It's where I met my wife," Aurora added, then stopped speaking, her face melancholy.
Yarrow had already noticed Aurora wore her ring on her left hand, middle finger instead of ring, and so said nothing. Casting about for anything to change the subject, she settled on her meal, though she was far from finished.
"The meals you serve here are absolutely splendid, Aurora," she said with a smile, and saw her friend come back from wherever the far-away place she'd gone to had been. "I'm sure they don't serve things so fine in the castle itself."
Aurora waved her hand. "It's just humble food," she said, blushing, and Yarrow saw her guess had been correct: Aurora handled the food menu herself.
"Well it's the best recipe for humble food as I've ever tasted," Yarrow said, and Aurora blushed deeper. She smiled more that day, and Yarrow didn't see the melancholy pass her face again.
The next day was spent much the same, except Dion was in all day and Aurora out running her errands, so Yarrow spent her day talking and flirting. Jules had come by briefly to tell them the time of the funeral the next morning, then gone, leaving Yarrow to Dion's attentions.
At some point in the day it occurred to her that Dion was not as cavalier with his flirting with her as he was with the other patrons; she could sense real interest there. She spent the afternoon mentally debating the pros and cons of returning his attentions in earnest, continually falling back on the decision she'd made on the road, namely, that sex was no good without love, and would never be the same without Caelum.
Oh, come now, her old self scolded. You're being a little melodramatic, don't you think?
I've earned the right to be melodramatic, she replied with a sniff.
Her old self rolled her eyes at Yarrow's current thinking. So you're swearing off sex forever because some stupid man broke your heart?
No! Yarrow protested vehemently. The thought of no sex ever again was abhorrent. It's just. Well. She floundered, unable to think of a single good argument. Her old self gave her a self-satisfied smirk and said nothing more. She didn't need to. She'd won.
That night, Yarrow threw caution to the wind and invited Dion into her bed. When he accepted passionately, she felt her old confidence return a bit.
She had absolutely no regrets about it, she decided, lying in the comfortable bed next to him. He was a passionate and considerate lover, and she'd be lying if she said that his interest in her since her arrival hadn't awakened something long-forgotten within her. She hadn't been this flustered with a lover since...since the first time, she realised. So used to being dominant with the people she slept with, she didn't let anyone make her feel anything. Not even with Caelum, for all that they had gently warred with dominance during their time together. She'd still been indubitably in charge -- and well he knew it. She was always in control. Tonight, Dion had made her lose her composure. She realised that being flustered could be a really, really good thing.
She lay awake for a long time afterwards, staring into the darkness. She still couldn't sleep that well; hadn't been able to since leaving. Frankly she didn't want to. What sleep she got was punctuated with nightmares.
She wondered that she'd moved on so quickly from Caelum. She didn't really feel anything towards him anymore. No hate. No anger. No love. She couldn't.
Mayhap I'm just ignoring it till the right time.
When would be the right time to come to grips with it?
Never.
She sighed. When she should care, sh
e didn't and when she shouldn't, she did. Nothing was ever simple.
"What's his name?" Dion's voice came out of the darkness, startling her.
"What?"
"The man you left behind," he said, his voice gentle.
"Oh." She paused. How obvious it must be to everyone else! She tried to think of a name; if she said 'Caelum', he'd know for sure who she was. Which he probably did, but at least this way he could truthfully deny ever having met Yarrow. "Cepheus," she said at last, falling on a name out of mythology.
"What happened?" Dion shuffled closer to her and put a caring arm around her.
Yarrow almost laughed. "He left me for my sister."
He kissed her forehead. "Want me to kill him for you?"
Now Yarrow did laugh. As solid as Dion was, the thought of him taking on a seasoned military officer was just priceless. "No," she said, laughter fading. "I'm not mad at him. He didn't really have a choice." Though she couldn't see him very well in the darkness, she could feel Dion's sardonic look at her. "Family and inheritance reasons. I'm the younger sister."
"I thought arranged marriages didn't happen anymore," he said, his tone lightly searching.
"They don't. But blood is thicker than water, and family can still screw your life up royally." Even past death.
He laughed. "That it can."
They cuddled in silence for a while, just enjoying each other's touch, until Yarrow's curiosity got the better of her.
"What happened to Aurora's wife?"
Dion sighed. "No one really knows. He died a few years back. Up on the mountain."
"Avalanche?" she hazarded. She knew it was a ready enough danger in Atton.
"No. I wish. Would have been easier to take." He stopped for a moment, and Yarrow was silent, letting him gather his thoughts. "Galen had a group of friends who were convinced they'd find treasure in the caves of Mt. Impri. He was more sensible than that, of course, but loyal to a fault. Characteristic of Atton-folk. Don't know when to take care of themselves." Yarrow thought of Jules and smiled. "As I'm sure you know," he added and she knew he'd sensed her smile.
"That I do," she murmured.
"So they got together for an expedition up the mountain. Despite the danger and my sister's protests, Galen went with his friends. They were gone for a full tredicem. It was spring, and Thaw made the passes treacherous. Aurora waited at the window every day and night, consumed with worry, looking for his return. I couldn't even get her to clean -- something she does to ease her mind.
"Took some convincing to get her some rest. That's when they returned. Didn't wake her right away -- didn't want to upset her with the sight of him."
There was a longer pause, and Yarrow grabbed Dion's hand and squeezed. His thumb stroked her hand briefly before he went on.
"Torn to shreds, he was. Looked like the work of a treecat -- but they'd gone above the tree-line. When I asked his friends what had happened, they raved about Flesh Screamers."
"I thought those were legend," Yarrow said, swallowing.
"I said as much, but they would not be deterred. Said none of them could move while it screamed and tore Galen to bits."
He fell silent. Yarrow let him for a while, thinking about the terrifying idea that Flesh Screamers may exist. Then something occurred to her.
"Dion," she said matter-of-factly, "if none of them could move then how did they survive to bring his body home?"
Dion stretched and moved to rest on his back, and Yarrow moved to her side so she could continue to look at him, dark though it was in the room. "That's the strangest part of the tale," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "The youngest of them told me they'd been saved by Queen Zameera -- that she'd appeared and killed the creature with deft strokes of her two vicious looking blades.
"That was when I was sure they were crazy -- she'd been dead for years past, and even if she were alive...why would she be on Mt. Impri killing Flesh Screamers? And how would the young pup even know what she looked like? He'd never seen her. Then Geoff, the eldest of the group, confirmed the kid's story. And he'd seen the Queen a time or two in his life."
Yarrow felt a chill run down her spine at this branch in the story. Goddess, what awaits me in the mountains? "Do you think they were lying? That it was foul play?" she said out loud.
She saw him nod, slowly. "I did. So I called in the priestesses but they confirmed the men were telling the truth. Gave them sanctuary, mad as they were. They had to be. Couldn't be otherwise.
"We had his funeral. The town moved on with life. Aurora's never healed fully, but I didn't expect her to. Some people mate for life. Galen was a good man -- only person she'd ever brought home that I actually approved of. I never told her their tale. Said they'd gone below the treeline and been attacked by a treecat," he said, an afterthought.
Yarrow found herself smiling despite the melancholic mood that had settled. "You're very protective of her, I gather."
She could see his teeth glint in the little light in the room as he grinned back. "Damned right. She's all I've got. When our parents died I basically raised her."
"I thought you two were twins," Yarrow said in mirth.
"She's still my baby sister," he said staunchly.
She giggled, and Dion rolled onto his side to face her. "Are you laughing at me?"
"Oh, not at all," she said, and burst into giggles again.
"I think you are," he said, and pinned her to the bed expertly. "Good thing I know how to fix that." He kissed her deeply.
When she could breathe, she asked if he was sure it was Bacchus and not Desirelle he was devoted to.
"Can't it be both?" he said with what she could see was a roguish grin, and after that they let all thought drift away for the rest of the night.
~
Yarrow had to borrow some of Aurora's clothing for the funeral, as she owned no white. It was awkward, as the tavern-owner was almost two feet shorter than the ex-bellica, but somehow she improvised -- the woman had a non-fitted sleeveless peplos that Yarrow could slip into, and in order to make it go past the middle of her thighs, she found a fairly inexpensive clothing shop where she bought an underslip in white. She also purchased an inexpensive cardigan that would fit Aurora as well, so she could leave it with the woman when she left. For her hair she borrowed a white shawl from her new friend. "To show respect," she'd said in explanation.
Aurora had nodded in acceptance, but Yarrow saw the twinkle in the shorter woman's eye.
All in all she didn't look too terrible -- not that a funeral was a time to be vain, but she didn't want to look as if she didn't care at all about Jules' family.
It was a simple service, held outside the Temple, and beautiful. Jules' father was well-loved, and most of Atton had turned out for it. Yarrow stood at the back, behind Eric's remaining family, though she was sure Nathaniel and his husband both knew exactly who she was. As she watched the pallbearers load Jules' father onto the pyre and the priestesses move forward with torches and prayers, she noticed Jules was edging backwards, closer to her. Soon he stood next to her, and she looked at him sidelong. He didn't return her glance and so she left it alone.
The main prayers were being said by a priest -- unusual, but it did happen. Yarrow bowed her head with the rest of the mourners. When it came time to pray for Eric's journey to the Sisters of Mercy, she prayed very hard -- for her. Then she watched a priestess light one end of the pyre, and throw her torch up onto it. The remaining three priestesses followed suit, and they stood and watched Eric burn.
Eventually mourners drifted away, as the day wore on. Afternoon turned into evening and evening into night, and Eric still burned, Only Nathaniel, his spouse, their children, Jules, Yarrow, and Dion and Aurora remaining. Out of the corner of her eye Yarrow saw tears running down Jules' face, reflecting the orange glow that was now his father, and she put an arm around his shoulder and squeezed. He leaned into the embrace and they stood there until they were the only ones remaining, and longer still until the fire was
out, orange and yellow lights dancing in front of their tired eyes.
Jourd'Aradia, 11th Duema
She'd been warned about Thaw, but somehow she'd not believed it. Despite the warmth that was making snow melt and turn the road up the mountain into slush, it was a bloody cold four days that it took them to reach the caves. They were soaked through by the time they reached the first cave, and the wind that blew fiercely down the mountain had done nothing to warm them. Yarrow was sure she'd never feel anything in her hands and legs again. In most places they'd been unable to ride their horses, because of the treachery of the melting snow, and so had to wade through in their breeches and boots -- which were supposed to be waterproof, but apparently had never been tested in Atton in spring. A few times they'd had to turn back and find another pass, for the one they were going to take was blocked off with a pile of snow, or a rockslide. There was no map to the mountains. There was only tenacity and luck to get them through.
When they entered the cave, she actually fell to her knees and kissed the ground. "Thank Aradia," she exclaimed, chapping her hands and trying to get feeling back into them. "I thought I'd never stop feeling the wind. Isn't it supposed to be warmer now that it's spring?" she asked Jules as she got up and lead her horse deeper into the cave system, looking for the warmth of the earth that should be inside the mountain.
He laughed quietly, without mirth. "It's never 'spring' in Atton, Yar. Out of four seasons, we have three winters -- early, middle, and late, sometimes called Thaw."
Yarrow snorted. "So what's the fourth?"
"Tourist season," he replied dryly.
They went through a few caves with their horses, each opening luckily big enough to admit the animals. The third cave they came across was a shock. It was a fully-stocked, very large, stable.
Yarrow let out a low whistle. "SomeOne is looking out for us."
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