The baby stared at her with wide, blue eyes as it continued to nurse the small canteen. Judging by the droplets on his lips, the sheep skin was full of milk.
Suddenly, the woman lying just next to the baby took a sharp intake of breath. Una scrambled backwards in surprise, even as the dagger rose and fell in the woman’s chest. She was still alive.
Guyon scrambled forward, reaching and grabbing hold of the dagger before Una could protest. Then he wrenched it out. The woman gasped and choked as blood flowed out of the wound.
Without hesitating, Una ripped a piece of her cloak, folded it, and pressed it hard against the woman’s gash. “Keep pressure with this,” she instructed Guyon. Then she pulled out her knife and handed it to George. “Go back to the fire and start heating this up. We’ll need to cauterize the wound.”
Emergency medicine like this had been among the many skills taught to her by her parents. They made sure she knew everything needed to treat wounds, though a stab wound to the chest had not been among the situations they had prepared her for. The dagger must have just missed the woman’s heart for her to still be alive right now.
She put that out of her mind. Right now, she simply had to focus on helping this woman and save her by any means possible.
By any means possible? said a voice inside her head.
Wait, no, she didn’t mean…
But in that instant, something took control of the power within her, something dark and dangerous. In her panic to save the woman, the power slipped out of her grasp and into the hands of a shadowy part of herself.
No, not this.
The woman gasped even as Una felt her power reaching out to delve inside her. The magic coalesced around the woman’s broken form, around the wound in her chest. There was damage there, damage to the lungs, and near the heart. It would not be long before that heart gave out. Unless…
Out of Una’s control, and with a will of its own, her magic flowed into the woman, drawing from her energy, and from Una’s, as it began to knit the wound back together again.
The woman coughed and blood splattered on Una’s tunic, but Una could not pull back or move at all. All her will was directed at her own magic, trying to wrestle back control. She had to stop it. Even if it was healing the woman, she did not know what would happen if she could not contain it afterward.
And yet soon the woman was breathing easier, and Una could tell through her link with the magic that the heart was beating more regularly. The bleeding stopped, and there was nothing but a dark patch of flesh where the wound had been.
“What is this trickery?” said Guyon, rising to his feet and staring at the woman as though she was the source of the magic. He did not yet know that Una was the one responsible.
Stop. Her face was growing red with the effort of concentration. She had to stop the magic.
We will let you have control again, the voice repeated in her mind. If you follow the trail...
No! We must have it, we must use it!
Una frowned, was that...another voice?
But before she could wonder further, control of her magic finally passed into her. Instantly she grabbed hold of it, keeping it from doing anything, before finally shoving it back inside her soul, letting out a deep breath as she felt its power fade. All was calm, all was still.
“What...what have you done to me?” cried the woman. Where there had been a great hole in her chest, there was now a dark-red scar, like a stain. And there was something...different about it. Una peered closer to see tiny dark veins protruding from the center of the wound. Where had those come from?
Guyon was looking at Una with a new look in his eyes: wariness. Una met his gaze, and understanding passed between them. He knew she had done something, that there was more to her than she had said earlier. But when the woman repeated her statement with frantic eyes, Guyon turned his attention back to her.
“We’re here to help,” he said. “Lie still.”
He knelt beside the woman, placing a hand on her forehead. Whatever he felt must have surprised him, for he adjusted his hand to feel around the area.
“What is it?” asked Una.
“She’s hot,” Guyon replied. “A recent wound like this could not spark a fever so soon. Were you ill, lady?”
The woman shook her head, but her face was red with anguish.
“Tell us what happened?” said Una, staring down at the woman while Guyon ministered to her.
“He...he tried to kill me,” said the woman, tears streaming down her face as she tilted her head to look longingly at her baby boy.
“No one will harm you now,” said Guyon. “Tell us who tried to kill you?”
Una glanced around them, trying to find a culprit but to no avail. Did Archimago have anything to do with this?
“What happened to you and your husband, my lady,” Guyon prodded again. “Tell us your story, for help has not come too late.”
The woman coughed, hard, as though she were still in the throes of death. Una narrowed her eyes, then knelt to inspect the wound. It was still healed, but those strange dark lines had increased. Una felt the woman’s forehead, and Guyon was right, she was still burning up.
Life cannot ever be fully restored, said a faint voice in her head, like an echo bubbling up from where she buried her magic. Death can only be delayed.
“I think the healing may be temporary,” she said, meeting Guyon’s eyes.
“How do you know?”
“I...I just do.”
Guyon pressed his lips together, clearly wanting to talk more of Una’s magic, but instead he turned back to the woman, with urgency in his voice.
“My lady, you may not have much time left, but I swear to you, if anyone has done you ill, I will find the culprit and bring justice to them, by my word as a knight of the Faerie Queen. Tell us what happened.”
“Start with your name?” Una encouraged.
“My, my name is Amavia,” said the woman softly, looking almost relieved at the news that her health was fleeting. She wanted to die, despite everything, though Una could not fathom how such a thing were possible.
“Amavia?” Guyon asked, his voice held something different about it. “Of what house? Before you married, I mean?”
“I had none,” she said. “I was raised by a poor family in Anglesey. They found me as a baby.”
Guyon set his jaw, and Una narrowed her eyes. It seemed Guyon knew more than he was letting on. There was something important about this Amavia.
“And your husband?” Guyon encouraged, moving on.
“He was Sir Mordant of Anglesey. We met many years ago, and never had I seen a goodlier knight. He treated me like royalty, though he was of a far nobler line than I. We were married not a year ago. I became pregnant with our child not long after.”
Una settled herself on the ground to listen. It sounded like the woman had been happy, living a life of luxury alongside Sir Mordant, giving birth to his child. She imagined what it might be to have such a life, maybe even with George. Yes, perhaps in the future when Annwyn was sealed, and all threats averted, she might be able to settle down with him, maybe even have a family. The thought surprised her. She had never thought of children before now, but seeing the young boy peacefully sucking at the sheep skin, she couldn’t help but entertain the idea.
“But then…” continued Amavia, and her eyes welled with tears once again. “But then...she came.”
Una narrowed her eyes. “Who?”
“A witch. Acrasia was her name, one of the most beautiful women I’ve yet laid eyes on, and yet foul. All the men in our town of Anglesey followed after her, all losing sight of their own wives, all with eyes for Acrasia and Acrasia alone. Even the elders followed her.”
At that moment, George returned, bounding through the brush with a hot knife in his hand. But he slowed as he saw that the blood flow had already been staunched. He was about to speak but Una held up a hand, continuing to listen to the woman.
“Most of the women
accused their husbands of never loving them, of choosing a pretty face over their stewardships. But I knew better. I knew that what Mordant and I had went beyond such superficial desires. He would not have left me and his newborn for another woman, not without coercion of some sort.”
“You suspect sorcery?” asked Guyon. At that, George leaned in closer to listen.
“I do,” said Amavia. “And I was right. Acrasia was a sorceress of great power. When she left with all the able-bodied knights in the city, I put my baby in the care of another and followed them. She led them away to an island north of Anglesey in the Irish sea. There she had a great Bower, a Bower of Bliss for all who came. Even I, who snuck aboard the ship that took them there, could hardly resist the comforts afforded by that place.”
Suddenly, Amavia choked, and blood splattered her tunic once more. Una checked the stab wound and found it had opened again, the dark lines growing. There wasn’t much time. Both Guyon and George watched as Amavia continued to cough.
When she had finished, her eyes were wide as she stared at the three of them. “Please, you have to find her and end her!”
“I will find her,” said Guyon, in a cold but resolute voice. “But first you must finish your story.”
Amavia swallowed, but nodded. “When I found my husband in Acrasia’s Bower of Bliss, he was so far gone with drugs and spells that he did not recognize me. Yet I must have managed to create some kind of connection, for he followed me, as though curious, not yet knowing why. I led him to the shores of the island, and snuck aboard a ship, though he yearned to return to Acrasia. Yet after a few days of living away from her sight, I began to get through to my husband. He remembered me, and soon the spell was lifted.”
Despite herself, Una was growing immersed in the story. Who was this Acrasia to wield such power over men? And yet, it was not enough to overcome the love that Amavia had for her husband. She suddenly experienced a pang of sorrow that she would not be able to get to know this woman well.
“Our boat was dashed against some rocks and we only barely survived on some driftwood. But we made it, and went back to Anglesey to fetch my son.”
“Your husband did not resist? He did not want to return to this Bower of Bliss?” Guyon stood with his arms folded.
“At times, yes. But it soon became clear that he was under the influence of some dark magic. With enough time, and further distance from that dreadful place, we fully realized the power of the spell that had taken him. It had all but consumed him to the point of a complete loss of will. Yet I was able to bring him back.”
“His love for you must have been strong,” said George.
“I knew that it was,” said Amavia with a soft smile. “It is why I knew he would never have left on his own will.”
“But you still have not explained how you came to this fate,” Guyon encouraged.
The woman’s face darkened once more, but she coughed again before she could say more. The coughing racked her body, and blood began flowing freely from the wound. She heaved a deep, shuddering breath, and her next words came out in a croak. “We knew someone would come looking for us eventually. Already she had sent others after us. But we knew if we stayed in Anglesey, she would find us again. We returned only to retrieve my son, and began traveling to Londinium. We had to warn everyone of the danger.”
She took several deep breaths, each coming less freely than the last.
“But she found us first. Right here. She had a man with her.”
Una’s back straightened. “What did he look like?”
“He had long, graying hair, and yellow eyes.”
Una exchanged a look with both Guyon and George. Archimago.
“And the woman, Acrasia,” asked George. “What was her appearance? Did she have straight dark hair, and matching garb?”
Amavia shook her head. “She had great golden curls, and a face as pale and shining as a pearl. And she was tall, taller than any woman I’ve ever seen.”
That certainly did not sound like Duessa, though Una would not put it past the sorceress to be able to change shape. Yet, why would she feel the need to do such a thing? Duessa had enchanted George in a similar fashion, but without the same golden locks and height that Amavia described.
But Amavia brought Una’s attention back as she choked out the end to her story. Tears streamed down her face. “She...she made my husband grab me, and stab me with the knife, after which she made him drink from the river, poisoning him somehow until he fell dead beside me. Then she and the other man left, laughing at us.”
“I am sorry,” said Una, and she meant it. No couple that had been through so much, and loved so hard, deserved such an ill fate.
“I swear to you,” Guyon’s hands trembled, and a tear ran down his face. Una was almost taken aback. She had never seen someone so passionate. “I will do all in my power to avenge your husband, and the horrifying deeds that led to this end. I will see your child delivered into safe hands, hands that will raise him in a happy, temperate life. I swear it, and may the gods shower me with curses should I fail to avenge this grievance.”
A soft smile graced Amavia’s lips. “I thank you, dear sir…”
“Guyon.”
“Sir Guyon. May the gods grant you vengeance, and may you save countless others from a fate such as mine. Take my child to the Holy Island, to the Head. There you will find someone to care for him, and perhaps more.”
“I swear it will be done.” replied Guyon, though Una wanted to ask what Amavia meant by ‘perhaps more.’
But at that moment, Amavia breathed out peacefully, and she did not take another breath. Instead, she lay still. Her face, that had reddened from the heat of a strange fever, quickly paled as all life fled from her body.
Una stood, and together, the three of them watched in silence as the woman’s tears stopped, and she was finally at peace.
5
It wasn’t easy to see someone die, no matter what the circumstances. Una had only just witnessed the death, the true death of her father. The sight of his broken body among the rubble of Castle Silene’s keep haunted her still. Even though he had tried to kill her, and had revealed himself as an insane lunatic, it was not an image she would ever get out of her mind.
George put his palm on her shoulder as they stood in silence. She raised her hand to touch his. No, moments like this would never become easy.
But it was Guyon who seemed to be taking Amavia’s death the hardest. He stood partly hunched over, his entire body quivering with either grief or rage.
“Are you alright?” George asked, staring down at the man.
“No, no I am not alright,” he said, standing. “Amavia...she was…” but he stopped himself from saying more. Una narrowed her eyes but did not probe. There was definitely more here that Guyon wasn’t letting on.
“Have you ever seen someone die before?” she asked. She had to believe a knight would have experienced death in some fashion.
“Not like this,” he said. “The elderly die in peace, and it is right. My enemies die in battle, and though unfortunate, it is also right. This...this was a death of emotion, it was unnecessary. What horrible plague of a person would pursue a woman and her husband just to spite them for leaving her? What kind of woman can command such lust?”
“We’ve encountered someone like her before,” said George, his hand still on Una’s shoulder. “A sorceress named Duessa.”
“Then she is the one responsible for this?”
George shook his head. “I don’t think so. Duessa did not match the description the woman gave, and her power over...men was less to do with lust, and more with devotion.”
Una glanced up and back at him. She knew he had almost said ‘her power over me.’
“But,” George went on. “I think I may have seen this woman before. Blonde and tall. I saw her in the City of Pride before my rescue. She was one of six leaders of the forces of Annwyn. Seven if you count Duessa.”
“Like the Seven Deadly Si
ns,” Guyon breathed. He stared at the ground as though in that moment planning how to avenge Amavia. Hopefully he wouldn’t do anything stupid.
“I believe that is exactly what they are,” said George. “At least, that is what they represent, and what fuels their power.”
“We have to put an end to this.” Guyon straightened. “Such power cannot be allowed to roam free unchecked. We must restore balance. I will find this Bower of Bliss and put an end to Acrasia.”
Una and George glanced at each other. “You realize, she has power over men, right?” said Una. “And probably some women as well. Attacking her directly will likely see you dead, if you don’t join her.”
But Guyon was shaking his head. “Not all men are so easily duped. I have been guarding myself against the seven deadly sins my whole life, and I see now this may have been my purpose from the beginning. Few would be able to resist temptation, but I can.”
He said it with such confidence, that Una almost believed him. He didn’t even seem overly confident. The man truly guarded himself against lust and other vices. Well, perhaps they would see how well that panned out. In Una’s experience, men were exactly as weak as poor Amavia had witnessed. Some were alright, like George, but even he had succumbed to Duessa’s sorcery. How would either of them fair against a sorceress whose only purpose was to seduce the hearts of men?
“Then I think, this is where we must part ways,” said George. He spoke to Guyon, but Una turned to face him as she realized he was talking to her as well.
“You can’t stay?” she breathed.
He shook his head. “The Faerie Queen will have other duties for me. There are six other deadly sins out there, not to mention all their minions. She will need help.”
Una hung her head. She had known this moment would come, but she had never wanted it, and that had not changed.
“You just can’t be...disobedient for once, can you?” she said, leaning into his chest. Their relationship had only just begun, and now he was leaving before they could explore further.
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