The Spark

by Howell, H. G.

  Upon entering the bath hall, Katherine was ushered to what she called the shearing table. Her mound had, once again, grown too stubbly for the likes of the crones. As she lay upon the cool surface of the shearing table, Katherine noted Belle was whisked to a hidden room off of the main hall. Katherine did not doubt the crones were most likely examining Belle to ensure she was indeed with child.

  When she was freshly cleansed of her womanly hair, Katherine followed a crone to the steaming waters of the bath. As she stepped into the scalding water, Katherine found herself trying to recall the significance of the name Syrah. She asked herself over and over again as the older woman’s boney hands scrubbed at Katherine’s body. Perhaps it was the intensity of the crone’s working hands, the heat of the water, or even the constant building tension in the base of her skull; no matter the reason, Katherine was hit with a sudden, terrifying wave of nausea.

  Her knees became weak and lax as they gave out from her, causing her body to topple. Katherine tried to stand, but she had not the strength to be found. Just as quick as she fell, Katherine found herself submerged in the steaming waters of the bath. Panic coursed through her veins as she struggled to come to the surface again. With her body not responding to her pleas, she began to scream. No voice left her lips, only a cascade of bubbles racing to the surface of the water. The last thing Katherine saw was the long, gaunt face of the boy Marcus above the steaming waters.

  “Katherine, don’t go!” The boy pleaded. “Stay with me, we can run away and get married. It will be how we always talked of.”

  His broken heart betrayed his composure as he faltered over every word. The boy spoke of love as some over ruling, whimsical force, like that found in children’s fables. Her heart yearned to give-in to him, but her reality lay in a pact made before she was born.

  Katherine sat on a log looking down on the poor young man as he begged her to stay. With gentle hands she brushed the soft brown of his hair, trying to console him the way her mother would console her.

  “You know I cannot,” Katherine said with the softest of voices. “It is my duty to go. It is the duty I owe my father, my family.”

  “You’re father did not mean you well Katherine. You know this as well as I.” Anger laced the boy’s tone. “You have spoke long with me how he would mistreat you, much like he had mistreated me when I was child.”

  The boy rose, sun glinting off the lenses upon his face, and turned his back on her. “You have confessed to me that your father saw you as nothing more than merchandise to sell to the highest bidder; or to one whom he would have gained much from. This marriage you run too is a product of your father’s desires.”

  Katherine left the rough surface of the log and came to rest her chin on his shoulder. “I admitted such truths, yes. I will admit them to you time and again. But I do not come from your world where love is all that matters.” She stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

  “You mean the salter’s world.” The young man turned bitterly before her lips could grace the soft stubble on his cheeks. “I have grown in the care of your family for nearly sixteen years. I was but a child when the courts brought me here. I am as versed in your ‘higher’ society as you, or your thrice damned brother.” The boy adjusted his ornate lenses, seemingly to distract himself from his own, tumultuous emotions. “Love transcends every station in life, Katherine. One day, you shall love me the way I love you.”

  “If you think I love you not, then,” Katherine’s lips quivered as anger and hurt boiled in her young heart.

  All she was doing was her duty, and she had hoped he would have understood as much. Not being able to contain her emotions any longer, Katherine fell to her knees in a heartbroken wreck. She did not care if the soft morning grass and dirt stained her skirts. All she cared for in this world was the young man before her, yet circumstance was preventing them from pursuing one another.

  “I know you love me Katherine,” he sighed trying to regain his composure. “It pains me to see you run off to another man for station and duty.”

  “If there was anyway I could undo my father’s pacts, I would.” Katherine declared. “But there isn’t.”

  “Go do your duty then.” He turned his gaze on her for the first time. The light of the sun sparkled bright from the crystal of his pyrokinetic lenses. Hidden behind the rich glass, his grey, sad eyes acknowledged the truth of the matter.

  “Is that the way of it then?” Katherine asked, trying in vain to contain her heartache. “You would resign our final moments with such dismissal?”

  “How else would you have it Katherine?” He threw his arms up, clearly frustrated. “ The woman I love is leaving for another, and there is naught that I can do or say to convince her otherwise.”

  “This is why we don’t love.” Katherine proclaimed. She now used her own mounting anger as a final means of defense. “Love makes us weak. Love makes life complicated.”

  “Love is all we have in this world Katherine.” Her love said, defeat heavy on his lips. “Love is what keeps us going. Not duty.”

  “Duty is my world!” Katherine threw her arms up in exasperation. “Garius, why can’t you understand that? My world is built by the foundations of one’s duty to her family, where yours is built on the heart.”

  Garius Syrah sighed. His grey eyes continued looking at her from behind his heavy lenses.

  Katherine rose from the ground, flattened out her skirts and joined her family’s servant – her lover. She took his hand in hers and beyond the thick, Ynouxian crystal of his lenses and deep into his eyes. They stood for long moments, knowing this would most likely be the last time they shared such a private occasion. Katherine noticed the way his lower lip quivered with emotion. She gave his rough, working hands a tight squeeze as she let her gaze shift to watch the afternoon sun begin to crest the far rise.

  “I love you, Katherine.” He whispered.

  “I love you too,” she whispered back. “I always will. Don’t you ever forget that Garius Syrah…”

  Katherine woke with a start. She lay on a soft down mattress, covered with a heavy throw of sheep wool. A canopy of richly stained wood loomed above and heavy curtains of royal purple had been drawn to a close. Her skull ached, but she felt a strange sense of knowing after her dream.

  “How could I have forgotten?” Katherine asked the darkness that surrounded her. The pain in the back of her head answered her question with a sharp twang against the base of her skull. She winced, trying to force the pain out of her head as she cursed her luck. When the discomfort finally subsided, Katherine pulled the thick blankets closer to her neck as she tried to piece together what happened.

  Her last memory had her in the deep bowels of whatever prison she had come to know as home. She and Belle had been ushered to the bathing hall. Belle had been taken into an adjoining room by the crones, but Katherine had remained behind and under went the usual routine. Katherine underwent the shears, and admitted into the steaming waters of the pool. That’s when her world slipped into oblivion. How she came to rest in such a lavish bed was well beyond her.

  The sound of a heavy door opening caught her attention. It was not the same, heavy creaking of age-old hinges like her cell. This was the well maintained groaning of commonly used doors. Heavy, slow footfalls grew louder as an individual with a calm, curious gait came closer to the bed. Katherine bit her lip anxiously and tried to hide under the covers. Slowly, the wall of curtains was pulled open, revealing the silhouette of a man staring down on her.

  “Katherine?” The man asked, almost cautiously. “Is it really you?”

  “Are you-?” Katherine couldn’t bring herself to ask, for she knew the answer by the deep, sad grey eyes looking down on her from behind crystal lenses. She couldn’t contain herself. Everything she had been through to this point had been so overwhelming, and terrifying, that his familiar face was a most welcome sight.

  Katherine broke into a fit of weeping and let herself rise and fall into Garius Syrah’s
arms. She ignored the fact her body was still exposed to the world as the covers fell free as she leapt into his waiting arms.

  “Katherine, love,” he said as he broke free of her iron clutch. “I am terribly sorry this has happened to you. I hope my men have been kind to you.”

  “They,” she paused thinking about the nightly rapes that Belle suffered, and the violations Katherine endured. “Your men were…gentlemen” she answered with gritted teeth.

  “You always were the worst of liars Katherine,” Garius said with a faint smile, implying he knew the kind of men in his employ. “I do not doubt there is much you wish to ask. There will be time for that later.”

  Garius rose from the bedside and walked to a nearby end table. He considered the three, wondrously designed glass flagons full of wine. He reached for the middlemost flagon, lifting it to the everflame lantern to examine the body of the contents. Confident with his choice, he poured the deep, rich plum-red liquid into a goblet of the finest crystal. He returned to the bed, glass in hand, and offered it to Katherine.

  Katherine could not help but take notice of how well the years had been to Garius. His white hair was slicked back, accentuating his sharp cheekbones and jaw line. Soft creases and folds were beginning to form around his thin lips, showing he still knew how to smile. Even in age, the pyrokinetic lenses he wore only seemed to become as refined and distinguished as the man underneath.

  “How did I get here?” Katherine asked, taking the glass of wine. The bouquet was invigorating, refreshing almost after the water and gruel of the prisons. Hints of plum and black cherry filled her nostrils. Ripe berry notes burst on her palette as she consumed the beverage.

  “Well, as the crones tell it, you had a fainting spell in our bath house. They claim you nearly drowned if it were not for one of my men who rushed in to help.” He paused for a moment, letting the events of earlier hang in the air like an unwanted gnat.

  “I believe you met him,” Garius continued. “The man who saved you goes by Marcus. He came to us from the salt mines. It seems to me he has the potential I am seeking for. He is eager to learn and to act. I am…”

  “Garius,” Katherine interrupted as his thoughts gave way from the topic at hand.

  “Oh, yes. My apologies.” Garius cleared his throat in embarrassment. “Anyways, when he revived you, they say you were still in a state of unconsciousness. You must have been dreaming of me, for they claim you kept repeating my name.” He gave her a cheekish, sideways smile. “One of the crones, Helga I think her name is, knew it would be best to have you brought before me. She is a clever one, for she did not want to endure my wrath if you were left unknown to me. I personally came to retrieve you from the bath hall and brought you to rest here in my private chambers.”

  “I, thank you ser.” Katherine’s cheeks flushed, either from the wine or her embarrassment, or both.

  “I am no ser, Katherine.” Garius said flatly. “I have never been a ser. Not to you. Not to the world.” He turned to face an arching balcony door of glass. The firelight from a nearby hearth caught the edge of his lenses, causing the crystals to sparkle with a lively orange glow. “I have done much ill in my time Katherine, and more is on the cusp of happening. But, everything I do, and have done, has all been for love.”

  “What things Garius?” Katherine asked as she finished her wine.

  “By Del Morte’s grace, you have not lost your beauty.” Garius said, quickly changing the subject. He took the empty glass from Katherine’s hand. With his other, he reached out and brushed a strand of her fine, golden hair to the side.

  “Thank-you,” she blushed.

  “I never forgot you,” Garius admitted to her. “Even after you left to be married, and I to the College of Kinetics.” With a look of a sudden, deep sadness, he removed his hand from her cheek. A bristling bitterness of contempt fell over Garius. “And how is your dear husband?”

  “I…well…you see.” Katherine sighed. “I never got married Garius.”

  “No?” he seemed as surprised as she.

  Being in Garius’ presence triggered a moment of calming in her skull, opening her mind to a long history of memories the throbbing had long masked. Katherine was as surprised to many of the truths that surged through her mind as it all came rushing back to her. She was ashamed, embarrassed even, by the long history of her life she had not been able to recall.

  “No.” She bit her lower lip, holding back tears from the subdued truth she only now recalled. “The man I was to marry would not have me. So he sent me home.”

  “What is wrong with him?” Garius asked, voice ripe with disgust and desire all at once. “To throw such beauty away?”

  “Garius, do you remember our final afternoon together?” Katherine asked, recalling the truths shown to her in her sleep. “How we wept and fought?”

  “I do.” He admitted. “I have never forgotten.”

  “Do you remember when we gave in to our passions?” Katherine felt a warming in her cheeks as she thought back to that early evening, so long ago.

  “I certainly do.” Garius’ smile was genuine as he recalled the same moment. “What does it have to do with your betrothed?”

  “Well,” Katherine paused, again feeling ashamed she had forgotten. “ Upon my arrival in Ynoux, I discovered I was…with child. Our child. The man I was set to marry did not want a whore and her bastard under his roof, so I was sent back to my dear madam mother.”

  “Our…child? Where are they now? Why did you not write to me?” Katherine was amazed by how fast Garius bombarded her with questions. In some ways she should have expected as much, but there was something in his tone that betrayed a deeper motive than a mere rekindling with a long lost offspring.

  “Garius, I…” A tight lump of emotion caught in Katherine’s throat as the painful memories continued to flood into her mind.

  “What is it, love?” Garius asked as he placed a comforting hand on her lap.

  “The stress of the excess travel, and the shame I brought to my family…” The cool kiss of a single tear running down her cheek gave Katherine a moment’s pause to collect herself. “I lost the child on my return to Valvius. The priestesses of Del Morte say that it would have been a little girl.”

  “A daughter?” Garius rose from the bed, seemingly at a loss for words. His footfalls were slow and heavy as he made his way to the hearth.

  “Aye,” Katherine said, wiping her tears away. “I named her, Garius. I even had my madam mother give the child a headstone in the family cemetery. We can go visit her if you would like.”

  “What was her name?” He asked. The fire within the shallow hearth shuddered and grew, only to falter and simmer as Garius Syrah fought with his emotions.

  “I named her Victoria Rose,” Katherine said, trying to sound as sincere as possible. “Because she was conceived amongst the rose bushes of mother’s gardens.”

  Katherine rose from the bed, placing her naked feet upon the smooth, polished wood of the floor. She shuddered for a moment as her exposed flesh adjusted to the cooler air outside of the canopied bed. She walked over to her former love and draped her arms over his body, embracing him in a moment of tenderness.

  “Why didn’t you write me?” He asked coldly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Garius, I…” Katherine let out a cry as the sharp pain in her skull returned, sending her to her knees.

  Garius was quick to catch her as she fell. He spoke softly to her, but the searing pain made his comforting words nothing more than a jumble of nonsense. Katherine was thankful for his strength as he hoisted her into his arms, as if she were a child herself. He crossed the distance from hearth to bed in what felt like no time at all, always looking at Katherine with his sad grey eyes. She was grateful when he lay her back on the lush bedding, for the comfort of the pillows seemed to soften the agony.

  “Is something wrong Katherine?” Garius demanded more than asked. He reached for the wool covers and pulled them over Katherine’s n
aked body.

  “I don’t know Garius.” She admitted as the pain receded. “Ever since I woke in the dungeons, I have been plagued by a throbbing pain in the back of my skull. In truth, it has hampered much of my memory, often causing dreadful pain when I attempt to recall the past.” Katherine sighed before continuing. “In truth, it has caused me to forget most of my life. But your being here has seemed to bring those memories flooding back. Perhaps I have only been on borrowed time.”

  “I do not understand.” Garius said. “What did you do to your head?” He asked as he indicated if he could take a look. Katherine nodded in agreement and, ever so carefully, sat herself up.

  “Neither do I,” she said as she pulled her legs to her chest. She lowered her head carefully onto her knees, allowing Garuis the chance to examine the base of her skull.

  “My last memory had me in a boarding house in Malefosse. I was on missionary work to help the salt families. Next thing I knew I was waking in a lightless world with a throbbing pain in my head.” She explained as his hands explored the base of her skull.

  “I do not see any signs of injury,” Garius said. “My men better not have hurt you. If they have, I will be most wroth with them.”

  He quickly stood from the bed. With a few quick strides he reached the far edge of the room where a heavy, oak door sat in the shadows.

  “I shall find a priestess of Del Morte. Perhaps she will be able to answer this question. You shall stay here in my chambers from here on out.” He paused looking her body over. “Please do not try to escape. I do have guards posted at every entrance into this room. You are a guest now in my home. I shall treat you as such, but I cannot permit you to leave. As such, you must be tired of being exposed to the world. I will have my crones see to fixing you some attire for your stay.”