by Evren, S. K.
“Are the stories you told them true?” she asked suspiciously.
Petreus winked at her broadly.
“Is the archpriest here now?” Chance asked.
“No,” Petreus replied, rubbing his hand over his scalp. “He traveled north a few days ago, to the Abbey in Thenensfron.”
Chance nodded.
“He’s gone every year since the invasion, on the anniversary.”
“On a ‘penitent’s pilgrimage?’” Chance asked. She looked at Petreus thoughtfully. “So, Drothspar never knew that it was Gathner who had cut him and his wife off from the rest of the world.”
Petreus shrugged. “There’s knowing and there’s knowing,” he said sagely. “The excommunication order could only have come from the chapter archpriest. The real question is, ‘why did it come?’ I think Drothspar had his suspicions about Gathner, but he couldn’t bring himself to actually accuse the old man, even in his own heart.”
“Did he ever forgive you?”
“I like to think he did. I certainly hope he did. I was the one who married them, after all.”
“He was eager to see you,” Chance said, trying to cheer her uncle. Petreus looked at her with a strained expression.
“Like I say,” he continued, “he was always courteous. I would stop by when I was out pestering the locals. Li was always happy to see me, and Drothspar seemed to be, too. Li, I think, knew that Gathner was the source of their problems. Maybe she had caught one of the looks he gave her when he was sure no one was looking. Maybe she just sensed it of her own intuition. She was a smart young woman,” he said, shaking his head. “I think Drothspar thought he would have time to rectify their situation.”
They heard a sound as Drothspar stirred in the bed. He sat upright, swinging his legs over the side.
“You’re right,” he whispered hollowly, “that’s exactly what I thought.”
Chapter 26 – Reunion
The sound of Drothspar’s voice sent chills down Chance’s back. Petreus watched the hairs rising on his own arms. Drothspar looked at the two living people and observed their reactions. Chance had become slightly pale and Petreus seemed to measure the distance to the door every other second.
“I’m sorry,” Drothspar said, raising his hand peacefully, palm out. “I seem to have lost my voice, but I found this one thanks to you, Petreus.”
“Y-you couldn’t talk before,” Chance pointed out.
“No,” Drothspar’s voice slithered, “I couldn’t. Petreus’ prayer showed me something that forced me to speak.”
“What was it?” she asked, curiosity overcoming her fear.
Drothspar shook his head. “Another time, perhaps.”
“Have you been listening all this time?” Petreus asked suspiciously, though a quiver remained in his voice.
“Yes,” Drothspar said.
Petreus shook his head and smiled wryly. “It really is you, isn’t it?”
Drothspar nodded. Chance looked between the two of them keenly feeling that she was missing something.
“He was always an excellent investigator, Sasha,” Petreus explained, “he would never have let an opportunity like the one we just provided slip away.”
“More like a spy,” Chance said accusingly.
“That too,” the old man agreed.
“Petreus,” Drothspar asked, “what happened to Li?”
The old man stared at the fleshless skull addressing him and shuddered. He sighed, took a deep breath, and spoke to the wall, somewhere between Drothspar and Chance.
“I don’t really know,” the old man said. “It got pretty chaotic around here seven years ago. Of course, the invaders never got this far, but people were in a panic nonetheless.
“Æostemark was lost. Most agree that there was some sort of treachery involved in that. People say that some of the inhabitants inside the walls weren’t who they appeared to be. Either way, the city fell. As far as anyone could tell, the invasion got about as far as Lake Othseval. They were stopped near the cottage.”
“They got a little farther than the cottage,” Chance told the priest. “The farm to the west of Droth’s home was pretty well destroyed.”
Petreus nodded. “I went to Li’s father, ignoring Gathner’s prohibitions, and asked him if I could join any expedition to the war zone.” The old man’s eyes closed and his head lolled back on his shoulders.
“‘Haven’t you already done enough, priest,’ he said to me. And what could I say in return? He didn’t want to hear me defend myself, didn’t want to hear me say that, no, I hadn’t done enough. He waved his hand and two guards escorted me from the chamber.”
“What about the estate staff,” Chance asked, “I thought you were friendly with them?”
“I was,” Petreus grunted. “I think they were ordered not to speak to me and never to come near me. So far, I’ve only been able to think that. Not a single person has ever come forward to prove it.”
“If he won’t answer to you,” Drothspar said in his chilling voice, “perhaps he’ll tell his son-in-law.”
“Are you serious?” Petreus asked him, alarmed. “He blames you far more than he blames me.” He caught the warning look on Chance’s face. “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely, “I’m not trying to hurt you, but it’s true all the same.”
Drothspar nodded slowly. “I still have to go,” he said.
“Let me go with you, then,” the old man offered. “If we’re going to storm their gates, let’s do it together, by the Maker. Besides, I might be slightly less alarming to the living.” He smiled and extended his hand to Drothspar.
Drothspar took the priest’s hand and shook it. Petreus, however, was fascinated by the bony hand. He turned it over in his own, looking at it closely.
“What in Creation is holding you together, boy,” he asked curiously. He didn’t wait for any answer but pulled on one of Drothspar’s fingers. Drothspar felt the tug, but the finger stayed in place.
“Amazing,” the old man exclaimed, still holding Drothspar’s hand. “Look at this, Sasha, there’s nothing there!” He tugged much harder and Drothspar’s finger came loose as three pieces. “Oh my,” he exclaimed.
“What did you do?” Chance shouted at him before remembering there were other’s nearby. “What did you do?” she repeated in a stern whisper.
Petreus had released Drothspar’s hand when the finger detached. Drothspar examined his right hand and the space where his finger should have been. He flexed his hand. It felt to him as if the finger were still there. He looked at Petreus who was staring at the pieces of bone in his hand.
“May I?” Drothspar asked, extending his left hand to collect the bones.
“I… I’m sorry, Drothspar,” the priest said as the blood drained completely out of his face. “I—I was just curious, and…”
Drothspar took the bones back in his left hand. He looked at them curiously, studying them, much as Petreus had done. He juggled them around until the largest of the three was in his left fingers. Examining the fingers of his left hand to be sure he had the correct piece, he positioned it where it belonged on his right hand.
There was an odd pulling on the piece of bone that he held. It was attracted to his right hand. He released the piece from his fingers and it snapped into place. Again he flexed his right hand, and the incomplete finger flexed with the rest. He opened his left hand and put his right hand over the pieces. The bones of the missing finger danced in his palm for a moment, then snapped together on his right hand. He held up the now complete hand and flexed it. All the fingers moved exactly as they should.
“How remarkable,” he breathed in a chilling whisper.
“Y-yes,” Petreus agreed, his chest fluttering with his breath.
Chance had been watching the hand with a pale but curious look. She noticed that Petreus was breathing faster than normal and asked him if he was okay.
“What?” the old man said, his voice dreamy. “Of course! I’m just fine.” His eyes glazed out
of focus. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said politely. He stood up from his chair and his legs buckled beneath him.
Chance dashed forward to catch him as he fell. His eyes rolled back into his head and he slumped down gently to the floor with Chance’s assistance.
“I think he’s fainted,” she told Drothspar.
It took several minutes to get Petreus back on his feet. Drothspar moved prudently out of Petreus’ line of sight as the priest’s eyes fluttered. Petreus sat down shakily on the bed as Chance poured him a glass of wine. He looked slightly perplexed as he took the glass from her, but smiled politely as she urged him to drink. His face warmed a rosy red as he finished the glass and he shook himself like a dog emerging from the water.
“I seem to have nodded off,” he said lightly, though his forehead wrinkled as if he didn’t believe his own words. “No, that wasn’t… Oh,” he said, looking at the Drothspar in the corner of the room. “Oh,” he repeated, with a bit more conviction. “Not a dream?”
“No, Uncle,” Chance smiled at him. He smiled back wryly.
“Right then,” he said, “odd as that was, it was still rather interesting.” He rose, unsteadily, to his feet and sat back down in his chair. He looked at Drothspar who was pushing his hands toward Chance as if urging her forward. Noticing Petreus’ glance, Drothspar stopped at once.
“He wants to know if it’s all right to talk to you,” Chance interpreted. “I think he’s afraid you’ll faint again.”
“Of course it’s all right,” Petreus said to Drothspar. “And I did not faint,” he added to Chance. “I was merely overcome with a desire to kneel in ecstasy.” He smiled roguishly. “Odd sight,” he said candidly, “bones separating when they shouldn’t even be out without their clothes on.”
“Are you certain you’re okay?” Drothspar asked in his sepulchral whisper.
“Oh yes, couldn’t be better.” Petreus nodded spasmodically as he poured himself another glass of wine. He drank it down in one gulp then prudently poured himself another.
“Do you know anything about Li?” Drothspar asked again, kneeling before the priest. “What happened to her after I… died?”
Petreus looked at the hollow eyes before him. His face flushed a deeper shade of red, and he sighed heavily. His eyes blinked repeatedly and reddened around the edges. He struggled with something inside of himself. His eyes steadied and his lips pressed tightly together. He inhaled deeply and reached out with his right hand to grasp Drothspar’s shoulder. He felt the thin bone under his hand, but his expression didn’t change. There was a time for personal fear and there was a time to be a priest, a comforter of souls. Drothspar reached for the old man’s hand. Petreus didn’t shy away. Chance felt tears welling in her eyes. She had never been so proud of her uncle.
“Drothspar,” Petreus said, “I’m sorry, son, I really am. I think Li is dead.” He felt the skeletal hand close tightly on his, he could feel pain as the fingers gripped more tightly than intended. He kept his hand still for the bones to hold, he squeezed the shoulder in reply.
“Arlethord was thrown into chaos by news of the invasion. The Crown called for order, but the nobles didn’t listen. Instead of joining with the Crown armies, many of the nobles sent their forces east on their own. I suppose each was eager to snatch a bit of glory from their peers. No one knows who reached the invaders first. No one knows who made it to the cottage first. There were rumors, of course, but I’ve never been privy to the sources.
“Li’s father sent the majority of his forces to join with the Crown. He released one company of light cavalry to probe east. Their orders were to secure the cottage, his daughter, and her husband. If they were successful, they were to escort you back to Arlethord. If they were not, their orders were to join up with the Crown forces.
“I joined the Crown forces myself, with Gathner and several other priests. I attached myself to Ythel’s forces and the Duke did not object. He told me about the company he had sent to find you. They never met up with us.
“The Crown forces raced toward Æostemark, but we were too late. The city was nothing more than a funeral pyre. Everything, everyone was dead. I heard that some few of the inhabitants survived, hidden in cellars, hiding in the forest, but you would never have believed it by looking at the city. We had raced there to support our own forces and engage the enemy. We did neither. There was no one left. Every soldier who had fought over Æostemark, from either Marynd or Sel Avrand, had fallen.”
Drothspar raised his head to look at the old man’s glistening eyes.
“My God,” the old man said, his eyes focused on a past that only he could see. “The fields ran red with blood. It mixed with rain in puddles and flowed in little rivulets like water from a spring thaw. Bits of armor, bits of people were scattered like trash all over the field. Arrows stuck up out of the ground like some sort of rank, stiff weeds. Fire licked the walls of the city and smoke rose despite the lashing rains. Even the oldest soldiers and the hardest campaigners cried that day.” Petreus breathed heavily, his shoulders slumping as if they had been pressed under an enormous weight.
“We marched east looking for someone to chastise. There was no one there to meet us. King Olventross sent emissaries to discuss a truce, to try and understand what had happened. It didn’t take long to find out that the rightful ruler of Sel Avrand had been deposed by his son. Apparently the son had been the one to initiate the invasion, on the counsel of some unknown advisor. The young man’s horribly disfigured face was sent to Olventross as a token of good faith.” Petreus’ head lowered and his eyes closed. “Faith,” he muttered softly.
“Peace was negotiated, treaties were signed, reparations were paid. We withdrew and started to march home. Ythel took three companies to the cottage. I went with them.
“We found the remains of the light horse company. Their bodies were stretched throughout the forest between Æostemark and the cottage. It looked as if they had fought a running battle with some forward scouts. Corpses of Eastern cavalry lay interspersed with Ythel’s men. One of Ythel’s was still alive, barely, but I don’t think he survived the trip home.
“We pushed to the cottage with Ythel in the lead. The Duke made it inside the cottage before I’d even made it to the clearing. He was standing with his back to me as I rode up. Five of his men approached me, still on horseback. They had been with him as he raced ahead. They also informed me that I was to be ‘escorted’ back to Arlethord.
“I felt as if I’d been hit in the head with a rock. I sputtered stupidly for a while. I cried out to Ythel as they led me away. I cried and I yelled and he never once looked back at me. I just wanted to know. I had to know.” Tears rolled quietly down the old man’s face. He paused a moment, sniffed, and wiped his cheeks on his shoulders. Chance poured him another glass of wine and the old man accepted it gratefully.
“I was stunned, just numb. I couldn’t ride. The men who were pulling me away took my reins. They wouldn’t even look at me. Sweet Lord and Maker, after all that we had seen, all that bitter, bloody cruelty, and then to be just pushed away…” Drothspar let go of Petreus’ hand and the priest released his shoulder. The old man buried his face in his hands and sobbed, his body racked, his shoulders shaking. Chance put her arms around her uncle and the old man rested his head on her shoulder. “I tried,” he cried, “I tried.”
His head shot up so suddenly that Chance was thrown momentarily off balance. The old priest had a slightly wild look in his eyes.
“I went on my own, later. I was determined that they wouldn’t stop me.” He nodded to himself. “I told Gathner I was going on a pilgrimage to Æostemark to pray for the souls of the faithful and to rid myself of the nightmares I’d been having. He let me go. I don’t know if he believed me or not. I didn’t really care. I was going to pray. The nightmares were real.” He drank down the glass of wine.
“I avoided all the farms as I rode out to the cottage. I didn’t want anyone reporting my visit to Gathner. He wasn’t the same after
the invasion. He hadn’t been fond of me since you and Li were married. He’d always tried to keep that private. After the invasion, he just pushed me to the side like an unwanted dog.” He shrugged and filled his glass again.
“It took a while, but I made it to the cottage. It was so cold and dark when I got there. It wasn’t night, you know, when I got there. It was probably just after noon. Probably.” His voice had begun to slow into an alcohol induced drawl. “I could see the, um,” he paused, “the burn-marks! Yes, the burn-marks on the wood. But the fire hadn’t gotten far. Not far at all.
“I looked,” he paused, breathing shakily, “I looked inside. All I… all I saw was a dried up blood… a dried up pool of blood.” His head sank slowly against his chest, and his shoulders started shaking once more. Drothspar looked at Chance and he could see the sadness in her eyes.
Petreus’ head shot up again. Drothspar drew back slightly. The old man’s eyes rolled slowly into a lucid focus as he stared at Drothspar’s skull.
“I’m so sorry, boy,” he said, his voice clear and resonant. “I am so very sorry.” His eyes flickered shut and Drothspar caught him as he slowly toppled forward.
Drothspar and Chance lifted Petreus out of his chair and carried him over to his bed. Each knew that the old man had suffered some terrible shocks in meeting Drothspar in his current form, but neither had known the pain he had endured during and after the invasion. Gently, they settled the old man down to rest and stepped quietly away to the desk.
“He never talked about any of this,” Chance whispered to Drothspar. “In all the years we’ve been talking and drinking, he never once brought this up.”
Drothspar nodded slowly.
“What are we going to do now?”
“Tonight, you sleep. Tomorrow, I want to visit my father-in-law,” Drothspar whispered.
The night passed with Chance sleeping on the floor and Drothspar seated quietly at Petreus’ desk. His mind played over the memories of his own post-mortem visit to Æostemark and the memories that Petreus had shared with him. He thought about the cottage and what Petreus had said about Li’s father. Ythel had been staring into the cottage. What had he seen? Had Li been there, lying in that pool of blood? Only one man knew the answer to that, but how would he react to a skeletal inquisitor?