by Colin Taber
His father was appalled.
Pedro would say little in general and even less to me. He was empty and broken. The playboy was dead.
I’d wed a phantom.
-
The birth came when expected, was thankfully easy, and almost beautiful in its own way. I think that deep down I’d feared that I’d bear some kind of cult-spawned devil, instead I delivered a little girl, an angel with a thick crop of red hair.
I wondered about that, thinking of the Flet boy who'd died at her conception. Any worries about her true nature faded after they gave her to me to hold. She was amazing, both cute and so very helpless. I knew then that nothing diabolical could hide in such a fragile shell. She was beautiful.
Pedro had been aloof prior to the birth, but the change was stark.
The maid and midwife wiped her over and checked her. They cleaned me, and then brought up the covers, while giving me a damp towel to refresh myself with. They were quick at it, getting us ready to receive my husband, parents, and in-laws. The midwife took the babe, wrapped her in fresh linen, and then sent the maid to fetch them.
I looked to the open doorway, apprehensive. How would he react to his daughter, to the very thing that had imprisoned him? I tensed, trying to lean forward and get the midwife's attention; perhaps she should just let him see our babe, but not hold her.
He stepped through the doorway, shoulders slumped, eyes downcast, ready to receive the ultimate reminder of his shame. Not a trace of interest or care marked his sallow face, he just wanted this over, not just the day, or the matter of his daughter's birth, but I think his entire existence.
He stumbled forward, pushed by two sets of grandparents trying but failing to hold themselves in reserve. Three more steps brought him to the midwife.
I opened my mouth to warn her, yet my voice faltered.
She offered him our babe.
I tensed, reaching out a hand.
He finally looked up.
Her eyes remained closed, but her mouth occasionally opened. She didn't make a sound.
His eyes widened as he took in the sight of her, but he didn't move to take her.
The midwife held her out to him afresh.
He raised his hands, his shoulders squaring.
The midwife asked, “My Lord and Lady, what will you call her?”
We hadn't even spoken of it.
My father looked over Pedro's shoulder. “She's beautiful.”
The baby then yawned, leaning a little back as she opened her mouth. Her arms appeared, rising out of the linen wrap.
My mother giggled. “She’s gorgeous!”
And Pedro smiled.
Lord and Lady Liberigo crowded past my father to also look upon their grandchild. My father-in-law said, “Beautiful indeed, and red hair – that's not quite a Heletian trait!”
His wife laughed.
I found my voice, “Perhaps she needs a good Heletian name?”
Pedro looked to me. “Yes?”
I smiled, trying to offer something of a peace between us. “How about Maria?”
His mother smiled. “A good name, your late grandmother’s name.”
My mother added, “And the middle name of your grandmother, Juvela.”
Pedro straightened his back, raised his head, and grinned as he drew his daughter to his chest. “She is beautiful.” He chuckled and then looked to me. “Our little Maria.”
I nodded as both sets of grandparents gave a cheer.
He said, “It's a good name for such a beautiful little girl.” And with each word his voice grew stronger, finding some of its old depth.
He stood there stroking her, marvelling at what had been made. I saw love in his eyes. My own heart softened at the sight.
He had changed.
-
In time Pedro and I built a better relationship.
I think he came to respect me; my strength and determination, but there was certainly no love. Maria had bonded us together. Sometimes I wondered if he loved her more than I did – and that would have been a marvel!
In her first season of life, she lost her red hair to have it replaced with something closer to Pedro's dark locks, and that better matched her olive skin. From me she carried a Flet’s blue eyes and a petite nose. A child of two cultures, a bridge, she bound us together.
My parents forgot their shame, and their household thrived with its close association to Lord Liberigo as did the family business. In so many ways I’d achieved everything I should have. All that was missing was love and its peace.
I came to trust Pedro with Maria, anyone watching them could see the love there. He and I were another matter. Sometimes we sat and talked a little, managing to be company for each other, but more often we didn't. I could never forget his part in the boy's murder and the way he’d treated me, but I realised that I could live with it.
As the years passed, he began to talk about his experiences at the monastery, something he shared with me bit by bit. I pitied him when he told me of the season he’d spent enduring confinement in a cramped cell, it damp, dark, and cold, and with the barest of rations. That imprisonment had ended when he finally accepted and confessed his sins.
When he talked of these things he looked to me for understanding. Never did he mention the cults, and I still couldn't get the words out of my ensorcelled mouth to ask, but I knew he stood ashamed. I think that’s why he wanted to tell me of his bleak time in the monastery. He wanted to show me that he’d not only been punished, but that he’d accepted that he deserved to be.
He truly was a different man.
To see him remorseful gave me hope; maybe I could share my life with my husband and perhaps even come to enjoy it. But such remorse came couched with what had delivered it, the dogma of the Church.
-
We lived in a grand old house in Newbank not far from my parents. Pedro began working for my father, acting as a liaison between his own father's contacts and my father's business.
My own time was lost in setting up our household and tending Maria. I often visited my mother. We saw less and less of Pedro's family as they realised how much of a shadow he'd become; a man with no spirit.
All the while the kidnappings continued to not only plague the city, but worsen, yet my own magic lay stubbornly idle.
-
Four years after our marriage day, I took Maria to see an Evoran herbalist down near the docks. She suffered from a regular chill, something that came on seasonally, and that I’d come to think might be brought on by the flowering shrubs that covered the surrounding valley side.
I took our coach and driver, Kurt, and Maria's bodyguard, Sef, who'd joined our own household. Ossard’s children were still being stolen, the problem now so bad that it even plagued the Heletian districts.
The thefts occurred in groups twice each season. In each group five children would be stolen, all on the same day between sunrise and sunset. Lord Liberigo had tripled street patrols and called up the militia, yet the diabolical crimes persisted.
On the day of the kidnappings, the Cathedral bells would toll out the number of children missing with each newly discovered crime. The macabre practice meant that the people of the city knew on the fifth ring that the danger was over – until next time.
Despite the patrols, and the offering of a generous reward, none of the children were ever found. Rumours circulated the restless city, some blaming the Evoran slave trade, others the Lae Velsanans, or witches, and on occasion even the forbidden cults of the Horned God.
On this day, such a day of misfortune, the Cathedral bells had already rung out four times. It meant that Maria never left my sight, and that we were always accompanied.
The visit to the old Evoran’s shop had been successful. The dark owner had sold me some herbs to stew and give to Maria as a watered broth. As I left the store, I asked Kurt to take us home via the waterfront only streets away. It had been a long time since I'd escaped the confines of Newbank, and I was eager for some of t
he city’s other sights.
The coach rumbled down the cobbled street and soon rounded a bend to reach the port. On one side stood tightly packed warehouses, stevedoring businesses, and a few rough taverns, on the other the wharves busy with a maze of moored ships and labourers.
A spectacular ship lay moored alongside one of the main piers. Its three masts stood tall, sloping gently backwards, and all cut of silver timber that caught the sun. The graceful lines of the ship meant it could have come from only one place – Lae Wair-Rae.
Lae Velsanans!
My Flet blood cried out at their presence, a chill reminding me of the dark history our two peoples shared. Despite it all I was curious, curious to see a Lae Velsanan first hand, and to have a closer look at their sleek ship.
In the cab of our coach, I leaned across to slide open the port and called to Kurt, “Take us towards that great ship and draw us near. I want to have a closer look.” Sef was sitting opposite Maria and myself, he shifted uncomfortably, but didn't protest.
Kurt brought us closer before coming to a stop.
The crew hurried about the deck of their great ship and also up a gangplank linking it to the wharf. The uniformed Lae Velsanans carried aboard crates and sacks of supplies. To my surprise, it seemed to be a military ship and not a merchant vessel.
Feeling relatively safe and with my curiosity only starting to stir, I said, “I'm going to get out and have a look.”
Sef helped me dismount, and then lifted little Maria down to put her on the cobbles beside me. She looked about with big blue eyes, setting her long curls to bounce.
I said, “We’re going to look at the ship, Maria.”
“Why, Mama?”
“Because I haven’t seen one so big before. Come along now.”
Kurt stayed with the coach while we walked forward.
I held Maria's hand tightly as if some part of me expected the Lae Velsanans to turn from their duties and charge. Despite their apparent ignorance of our approach, I just couldn't forget that these exotic foreigners had tried to destroy my people.
We stopped half a ship-length from the gangplank.
Intricate rigging webbed over the magnificent vessel, all of it artfully reinforcing the ship’s picturesque lines and curves. It may have been built for war, but I felt it could also manage a great speed out on open water. Festooned with brightly coloured flags and tattooed with intricate carvings, it was as much a ship of art as of war. It was amazing.
Behind us, I could hear the banter of a more refined tongue than that of fast-flowing Heletian or rugged and blunt Fletlander. I turned to see three uniformed Lae Velsanans walking towards their ship. They looked to be officers with bands of copper at their shoulders, it clamped over leather armour and sea-green tunics. Nervous, I watched them as they passed.
They all stood lean and tall, taller than men, or the common or middlings that they called us, and moved with powerful grace. One of them even smiled at me.
My nerves faded.
We watched them board their beautiful ship while the air sang full of their noble tongue. I wondered at my fear; they seemed so civilised. Finally, I said to Sef, “It's fantastic.”
He nodded, but it was a stranger's voice that answered, “Thank you.”
We both turned to see a silver-banded Lae Velsanan. His sea-green uniform, light armour, and helmet spoke of his heritage, but his strong face, blonde hair, and blue eyes, startlingly, were those of a Flet. Unlike the others, he stood thickly muscled with a broad chest, and barely reached my own height. He seemed at ease, but still radiated quite a presence.
He reached up with one of his muscular arms and removed his helmet to reveal the small pointed tips of his ears. In a moment, the resemblance to a Fletman was gone. “I didn't mean to startle you.” He spoke in Quorin, Dormetia’s common language.
“I'm sorry, I didn't hear your approach,” I answered.
“I was just heading back to my ship when I heard your kind words.”
I smiled, he seemed friendly enough.
He continued, “We’ve just resupplied and are about to leave.”
And then, from across the city, we heard the Cathedral's bells toll.
Dong...
The deep ring rolled out, seeing everybody stop and wait.
Dong...
And so we counted.
Dong...
Maria looked up to me. I bent down and picked her up.
Dong...
The Lae Velsanan officer watched us intently. About us, the people of the port tensed.
And then it came.
Dong...
Sef shifted, relaxing. I could feel my own demeanour change, a great weight lifted.
Thank Schoperde, Maria would be safe!
To temper the thought, the sound of sobbing arose in the distance.
Slowly, mournfully, people went back to work.
The Lae Velsanan asked, “Excuse me, but why does the bell toll?”
For a moment, with my relief making me giddy, I had to fight to maintain my composure. “There’ve been some kidnappings.”
He nodded, looking to Maria. “We have heard as much. We were warned of this place. I can see pain in your eyes, the kidnappings have already touched you. Take comfort; those responsible are being hunted by more than your own kind.”
For the first time in seasons, I heard the voices rise within me to whisper their support.
They liked him.
His words seemed simple, but they gave me hope. It was then that I realised it’d been a long time since I’d tasted such a thing.
I had to stop myself, suddenly taken by the urge to embrace this Lae Velsanan and thank him for his soothing words. Perhaps I was no longer alone in holding some of the truth and guilt.
Perhaps there was hope.
He gave a little bow and gestured to the ship. “I must go, it has been a pleasure.”
I nodded, and even Sef wore a smile.
The officer had indicated another Lae Velsanan waiting for him on the ship’s deck, his senior.
He stood there watching us, stark and handsome like a crisp winter day. Tall and lean, with a powerful frame, and all of it topped with cropped black hair and cold eyes of grey.
Within me the voices’ whispered chorus fell from warmth to an empty silence. There was no doubt, the officer was beautiful, but it was a beauty of a chilling kind.
The strongest voice within me hissed, “Soul Eater!” And for a moment I felt overcome. I still held Maria, but pushed her towards Sef. He grabbed her, surprised but ready. I put my other hand on his shoulder to try and steady myself.
I was going to faint.
“Juvela!”
And the Lae Velsanan we’d been talking to stepped forward and reached out with strong hands.
I wanted to refuse him, to say that I was fine, but the next moment my legs buckled. I’d barely begun my fall when the officer caught me.
Maria cried out.
The Lae Velsanan said, “Careful now.”
Sef tried to comfort Maria as he said, “Please Sir, I have my hands full, could you help her to our coach.”
“Of course.”
I protested, “I’ll... I’ll be alright, I just need a moment...”
Sef said, “Lady Juvela, you’re unwell!”
The Lae Velsanan nodded. “Please, my lady, I’m used to much heavier burdens. You will be no trouble.” And with a quick nod to Sef he moved to lift me.
Kurt had seen me faint and already had the coach coming forward. In moments, I was no longer under the sun or being held by the officer, but being fussed over by Sef while my poor daughter watched. With a barely managed goodbye to my rescuer and a thank you Sef swears he gave, we were on our way.
Strangely, as we left the docks, my colour returned along with my strength. I wondered at that, but it wasn’t easy to explain. All I could say for sure was that I’d left something behind us, something at the docks – and it was hungry.
Soul Eater...
<
br /> The name rang out in my mind, again whispered by the voices that seemed to be rising stronger with each visit.
Sef was staring at me. “Juvela, are you alright?”
“I...” My thoughts were confused.
“Yes?” he prompted.
“I don’t know. I mean, I feel much better, but before I felt...”
“Yes?”
“I don’t know how to describe it.”
“Try,” he said, and there was something about the way he asked that made me realise that he thought it important.
“There was something back there...”
He interrupted, “Where?”
“Back at the docks.”
“Yes?”
“Something scared me, it made me feel weak.”
He frowned, but it wasn’t because he didn’t understand – it was because he did. It encouraged me to go on, “Well, it was not so much that it scared me, but that I could feel it threaten me. It felt like it was somehow feeding off me, stealing, sapping my strength...”
“Go on.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know what to say, it sounds crazy.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Well, anyway, now it’s gone.”
He nodded and leaned forward, giving a sidewards glance to Maria who’d calmed and was now lost in the view of the passing street. “And where did that feeling come from, what was so hungry?”
“I don’t know.”
“I think you do.”
I shook my head. “Whatever do you mean?”
“The Lae Velsanan?” he asked.
“No, he was nice! How could it be him?”
“Their ship?”
All this was only adding to my confusion. A moment ago I’d thought that I knew what I was talking about, but only for an instant. Now I was lost again. With my uncertainty came defensiveness and a guess that sprang from the anxiety that nurtured it. “The Soul Eater.”
“The what?”
I looked down at my hands, to where they sat in my lap fidgeting with the fabric of my dress. “I don’t know.” I was embarrassed.