Chp 6

Chapter Six
I was brought into another tent, only this one was much smaller, one for a single inhabitant. My things were already placed inside, neatly stacked in a corner. Pillows blanketed the floor of the tent onto which I was placed, tucked into bed by Eethuvaga. I heard him murmur outside the tent, in which the scurrying of feet took off in several directions. I lay silent, drowning in my surroundings. Memories upon memories flashed before my eyes too fast for me to focus on them, though I did not try to, for I kept pushing them away. I was now at war with myself.
The turbulent pounding of my heart collided with all other sounds. The relentless beating ached; I wish it would stop. I felt Eethuvaga’s hand upon my shoulder. I forced my eyes to look at his face. He smiled and his eyes sparkled at the recognition I gave him. He sat me up and handed me a clay cup. My hand was still trembling, so I took it with caution and care and peered at its contents: a white milky substance. My first notion was not to drink it, but I really did not have a choice for I had not had anything to drink in quite awhile and my throat was parched.
I brought the cup to my lips; it was sweet and cool, quenching my thirst. Though momentarily I felt sleepy: it was a potion. I cursed with my last breath as my head hit the pillow.
Flashes. Lights flashing everywhere, the harsh light burned my eyes, blinding me. I was now powerless to stop the past from drowning me in sullen memories. I wandered in mists, until I came upon a familiar place, my old and much loved sanctuary: my poppy field. I could see myself amidst the bright red flowers. It all began to unfold as if it was the present time passing by before my innocent eyes.
I tucked a few loose strands of hair behind my ear and gazed up into the deep blue cloudless sky. Odd for a wind to carry no clouds upon its back, a dark sign that must not go unnoticed. Bad omens have been appearing more rapidly than they have had before, something is coming, and I have grown restless searching for an answer.
I have become the sullen bird sitting day after day in a golden cage. Many would foolishly take my place for the simple fact that the cage is made out of gold, for they do not see the chains that would bind them inside forever. These chains are unmerciful and do not take in account for the human nature to be free, to roam and seek out new places or find new things.
My sanctuary is a small clearing full of bright coloured poppies. A sea of red that brings a smile to my face just thinking about it, waves upon waves of poppies bent to worship the great wind. Yet an occasional weed stood up in defiance, reaching to the heavens ignoring the fact that it is different than the rest.
I sat up and rested on the back of my legs so I could see the dense forest that surrounded this clearing. Someone was approaching, for somehow I could feel her presence. It was something I have always been able to do, I could feel the energy, the spirit of another living being whether it was human or a rose coloured flower growing in the garden.
Carried upon a strong gust of wind a lone poppy landed in my lap. Picking it up I twirled it around my fingers. Such a beautiful creation, yet like everything else it was still affected by time. I laid the flower to rest beside others that had fallen to the ground. Soon time would affect me too, I would grow old, be thrown into a marriage with someone I did not love, have children and watch them grow old. I was not the artist of this painted picture, I was the model forced to stand in the corner and smile. I am just a face, a name on a paper. No one cares what I really want.
To leave this retched place seems only achievable in my dreams. I wish to explore new places, meet new people, people that would look me in the eye. For as long as I can remember people around here have been afraid of my sister and I. They shift their eyes away, as if they would turn to ashes if they gazed upon for only a second.
It was frustrating and irritating, yet it was mostly alienating. Of course I could chose a few other words that were slightly more colourful, yet with my luck I would get clubbed on the side of the head and forced to eat Alshi Root; which in my experience is the foulest tasting substance one can ever come across.
A figure appeared from amidst the trees. It was Gwenllian’Hali, though she disliked being called her full name and one who dares to call her that quickly learns to regret it. My sister stood at the base of the meadow, as if the sea of poppies would swallow her whole if she took a step forward. Her dark brown hair that fell past her waist was neatly tied back with a few pins; however a few loose strands had escaped and childishly played in the wind.
“Erryn,” My sister’s voice was light, yet stern, “I am not going to cover for you again.”
“What happened?” I called back while I pushed myself up from the ground.
I figured this was not going to be anything of good news, as Gwen was not due to arrive for another few hours. Brushing off the stray grass that covered my blue silk dress I glanced up at my sister. She was growing impatient as she tapped her fingers over her crossed arms. Just to annoy her further I slowly made my way through the meadow being careful not to step on a single poppy.
As I reached a few paces from her I could see her face clearly as the sun. She rolled her eyes, and a small frown appeared on her full pink lips as she adjusted her own blue dress.
“They caught you? Yes, why else would you be here?” I began.
Nodding, Gwen turned to the forest and headed back.
“That is really odd, I was sure they wouldn’t figure it out this fast.” I started after her picking up the end of my dress to keep it from dragging along the stone path, the maids would club me two if they’d have to re-hem the dress again.
“Mother is most displeased with you.” Gwen called out.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” I laughed.
Our mother was always displeased with me. Gwen could do nothing wrong in mother’s eyes, as for me, I did everything wrong.
Gwen only shrugged her shoulders and murmured something I could not hear. Following her was always something of a task. She always set a fast pace without any concern of any one else trying to keep up with her. Glancing at her back I wondered how she was caught. The new set of maids has been here less then a week at least. Gwen and I were identical twins, alike in every way, except in personality of course, then we were completely different, like night and day, though we were able to mirror our actions to our benefit.
“You should go to your lessons Erryn.”
Not noticing that Gwen had stopped, I clumsily walked into her. Both re-adjusting our footing, I tried to think of some answer to her statement.
“If I have to go to my lessons, then so do you,” I stepped around her, taking the lead down the beaten path through the forest, “I do not know what you see in that stable boy anyway.”
Gwen following close behind did not answer, which was another thing today that was quite unusual. We fell silent, yet I could feel chaos building up inside my sister, thoughts that needed to be said; yet she was still silent.
I shrugged it off and focused on the sun that was filtering through the trees. The forest was alive and welcoming. Birds softly sang to each other amongst the tops of the trees and rabbits scurried under fallen branches. The horses could be heard from the next clearing along with the echoing shouts from impatient trainers.
Gwen picked up the pace and was now beside me looking down at her feet, probably making sure she wouldn’t step into any mud. Her presence was making me nervous, normally we could talk about anything; this moment seemed awkward, like it wasn’t my sister beside me.
My stomach began to turn, slowly at first, and then as we reached closer to other clearing it began to turn more feverishly. Something cold slowly crept up my spine; it felt a little like fear. I was never one to be taken with fear. Few things though could stir me into quite a pitch of fits.
Both of us entered a large clearing. An old wide three-story manor rested on top of a small hill in front of us; long stables were off to the right, and a large old willow tree stood between them. Everything seemed to be normal: the maids were hanging today’s laundry out to dry by the back door to the kitchen, the gardeners were tending to the flower beds that rested close to the manor’s yellow stone walls, and the grooms were giving the horses their afternoon baths outside the stables. And then our mother, Bwynwen, was having her afternoon tea underneath the willow tree.
“Did mother wish to see me?” I inquired apparently to myself as I turned to where Gwen was once standing.
It was a little heart warming to see Gwen back to her normal self, prancing up to the stables, obviously to see Darian. He was only a few years older than us at eighteen; I guessed that with his dirty blond hair falling into his big blue eyes, it could make any girl weak in the knees when he smiled. Although, for all his good looks, I fear he looked better than he worked. Straightening, I switched my attention to my mother. Breathing in deep I mustered up all the will I could to stroll up the hill and talk to her, another argument was the last thing needed.
My mother’s personal maid, Mera, was pouring my mother another cup of tea. I have always thought of Mera as a grandmother. Her graying brown hair neatly tied back into a bun, framed her round face and rosy cheeks. She was quick on her feet and quick to give a kind smile; however, she was also quick to give a swift punishment, as I had found out the hard way. Unlike the other servants at the manor, Mera didn’t wear the manor’s liveries of the simple burgundy woolens. She usually favoured the creamy yellows and soft greens.
Mera quickly noticed myself approach the willow, and gave a deep bow spreading her yellow woolen skirts. She gave a warm motherly smile towards me, “My Lady, would you like some lemon tea?”
I waved my hand in decline of the offer. Mera nodded and sat upon a small wooden stool behind my mother; who was staring off into her own tea, as usual.
She was born into a wealthy noble family of these lands, and had inherited the manor after her mother past away many years before my sister and I were born. Her black hair was always tied into a waist length braid with not a single touch of gray. Yet her face was weathered with soft wrinkles around the eyes. She owned nothing but silk garments in her closets and today was no exception, for she wore a plain green high necked silk dress, with little white flowers embroidered down the long sleeves.
“I saw you and your sister come out of the forest, I disapprove of you going in there, and you know that.” She looked up from the porcelain cup, and then a small smile crept into the corners of her mouth.
The air grew thick, as I began to repetitively shift my weight letting the cool breeze under the willow flow around me. I new very well that she disapproved, but it unnerved me to find that she knew that I went against her just for the sake of something to do. She held more cards to play, yet knew how to play them, while I was left with only a few that held no value or use to them.
“Erryn, you and your sister are almost sixteen. It is about time you start acting like it. Soon it will be time to look for a suitable husband. One, such as I, would choose a good-looking man with noble blood and a good education, a large manor estate to spend the summers, and if you are lucky, a city apartment for the winters. Not these young stable boys your sister has clearly attached herself too.” Shaking her head, she placed her cup on her lap; she hadn’t touched a drop.
It was a small gain to hear her say something negative towards Gwen; however, the cons still outnumbered the pros, and I tried to avoid my mother’s sharp gaze. Her large soft green eyes had the ability to pierce into your mind. I always wondered if she had the ability to read my thoughts, although the idea frightened me. I tried to shake my attention elsewhere; Mera was mending a shawl, clearing not paying attention, or so I thought, until she glanced up at me and frowned.
My stomach began to grumble, and I silently cursed myself for skipping breakfast this morning. Seeing the lemon tea still steaming in the pot only increased the need for something to satisfy my stomach. So I walked over and sat in the chair adjacent to my mother. I picked up the pot and poured myself some of Mera’s lemon tea.
My mother put her cup on the tray beside us and readjusted herself in her chair to face me directly; I quickly averted my eyes and began to drink the tea.
“Erryn, the time of games and silly tricks on the maids are over,” Her voice was cold and heartless, “Do you understand? Look at me child; they are over.”
I looked up from the cup; I could feel my temper rise from the pit of my stomach. Oh I understood, she never dropped the subject, so how could I forget. I stared her down with sheer defiance. She wants to me stop, I will increase my tricks by ten fold.
Her face turned to stone, “Have it your way then,” she gracefully stood from her chair, “We have guests coming tonight. Do not make a fool out me.”
She passed me without another word, and calmly sauntered inside the manor with Mera closely trailing behind with the tray.
I continued to sit under the willow tree for a little longer. Out of boredom I glanced over by the stables, to see a love sick Gwen mooning over Darian. Crossing my arms over my chest I sighed with repugnance. This place sickens me. Darian laughed as Gwen whispered into his ear, and then she laughed in return as she danced around him.
Shaking my head in utter disgust I noticed I had dropped my mother’s white porcelain cup. Bending over I picked it up and peered at the small crack that had formed in the side. It was apart of mother’s favourite set, yet she only had a dozen others, however she seemed to favour the simplicity of this set. I shrugged my shoulders and threw the cup over my shoulder and plopped myself back into the chair.
Gwen’s laughter filtered its way into my head and bounced around until it borne a headache. Darian was sweeping the stable floors and Gwen watched his every move. She certainly held the record for watching a man sweep, which made me laugh a little.
Gwen was interrupted at her little staring contest, as the horses were being lead back into their stalls. Dancer, a beautiful stallion with a fiery temper, was given to me on my twelfth birthday. He was giving the stable boy his fair share of trouble. His golden coat and black mane and tail shimmered in the sunlight. Mother disapproved of Dancer; she disliked all horses believing they were far too dangerous. Though I could care less of her ranting and ravings, thus I rode Dancer every chance I had, and occasionally in front of mother, waving and calling to her so she’d know it was me.
It was now late afternoon and most of the gardeners had gone inside with their share of today’s work completed. They were an odd crowd; to name them would be difficult because they were not your average servants. They did not like to get dirty in any sort of way, a group could always be found at a washbasin. They also worked at odd hours, starting before sun up and quitting just shortly after noon. They were very nosey, always listening around corners, especially around my mother’s rooms. Such a nuisance they were.
To keep myself occupied I adjusted my braid over my shoulder so I could play with the stray ends. Twirling the strands of hair through my fingers I wondered who would be coming here for dinner. This would have to be thee dullest place on the planet. They would be coming from the city as anyone who is anyone lives in the city. Then again there is only one city on this stupid rock of an island. After skipping most of those dull lessons, from what I could remember is there is a large city on the other side of the island. The servants have always called it the City of Gates; however remembering the real name of the place was another task I was not up to today.
So if they are another noble family who knows. All I knew that I would be forced to find a new dress to wear, which is a good waste of a dress wearing it for only a few hours then having it whisked away to be cleaned. Waste of soap that is.
I stood up in frustration kicking over the chair. The place is a prison, as I am never allowed to leave, and I am supposed to find a husband, “HA,” I growled, most likely nobody cared, or even knew I existed in the first place. But then it hit me; they had guests coming, perhaps one was supposed to be my so-called future husband.
“Something troubling you, my lady?” A deep voice bellowed from behind.
Startled, I jumped tripping over leg of the toppled chair. Once I found my feet again I whipped around to find a tall, well-built man, a man that blended very well into the trunk of the willow tree. His hair was course and dark, graying only at the temples. At a guess, one could say he was in his early forties. However I could pick him out in a crowd anywhere. Navisor had come to the manor when my sister and I were only a few years old, and I have grown up to his fatherly voice and his thin, but cheerful smiles.
“No, nothing is troubling me today.” Lying through my teeth, “though, Navisor I thank you for your concern.” Smiling I walked over to him and wrapped my arms around his chest.
He returned the gesture, as I felt his sturdy arms pick me off my feet and then gently set me back on the ground. I rested my head against his soft, light brown shirt. His presence gave me strength.
“I noticed you were alone, and I thought I should accompany you,” his voice vibrated through is chest, tickling my ear.
I looked up into his bright gray eyes and found my reflection in them; I graciously basked in the warmth of it. He was such a charming man, and I was surprised that he had not found himself a wife and settled down.
He let go and took me by the hand proceeding towards the stables.
“You know, My Lady, Dancer has been acting up,” he paused letting a wide smile cross his face, “You should come to visit him more often. I’m afraid that he forgets what his mistress looks like.” he added a low laugh, as he glided down the hill, with me stumbling to find the right footing on the steep slope.
Flashes. Flashes. This memory was kind, but the night that proceeded it was not so fair.
The crescent moon shone with a silver brilliance, though heavy shadows surrounded me. I was in the poppy field. I did not remember much: Navisor had given me Dancer to ride and I was thrown off him after something had startled him. My head whirled, my vision dimming slightly.
I sat up to find myself not entirely alone, a small flickering blue light was moving across the small path that led to the manor. I stood up to make sure nothing was broken, and gladly nothing was though I would definitely feel the bruises tomorrow. I shifted my attention back to the light. As it drew nearer I could make out a small figure holding a long pole that held a lantern.
Dancer came up behind me and nuzzled my neck. I pounded his side with my fist, “you bloody lout, I’m in for it this time, and its all your fault!” I harshly whispered.
I took the reins in my hands and carefully proceeded through the poppies. The moon gave a little comfort in her soft glow from above. The light ahead stopped at the edge of the meadow, “Who’s out there,” I called out, hoping it was someone I knew.
“Which bloody twin are you? Gwenllian’Hali or Aelwen’Erryn?” A light woman’s voice answered, her tone implied that she wasn’t too impressed to find herself out here.
Light from the moon and from her lantern gave life to her voice. She was perhaps a hand taller than I. Her long curly hair flew mercilessly in the wind. With one hand she held back a cloak from catching in the wind, revealing a simple white dress with a low-neck line.
Not noticing the cold night spring had unleashed until now, I shivered wishing I had a cloak of my own, “I am Aelwen’Erryn.”
The woman only nodded and eyed me down like I was a venomous snake. How rude, this woman was. I should be the one starring her down in such a fashion. She hasn’t even introduced herself.
“Who are you?” I inquired, a tad hesitant to drew closer to the woman.
She walked up to me, and I could see her face more clearly. It was hard to tell, but she appeared to be in her early thirties, with soft wrinkles lining her face. I guess she could be called pretty, though she had a large nose; however a strange marking caught my attention. It rested between her brows: a black tattoo of a crescent moon, its points facing down.
“I am Lady Ryshiel Erisona. I was one of your dinner guests until you and her sister did not show up,” she growled, her tilted eyes held no sign of kindness.
“I do have an explanation for this,” I began but she cut me off.
“Save it for Lady Zohara. Come with me.” She spat, grabbing my arm shaking her head with disgust, “You are a filthy child.”
I was not a child! I wanted to pound the woman in the face, but I guess that reaction would be childish so I looked down at my dress to observe the damage. Leaves and other various small twigs were stuck to my skirt, but I have had worse there were no tares. The woman had a surprisingly strong grip, as I could feel my arm going numb as I was being pulled back to towards the manor. Dancer stood still, left in the middle of the poppy field, though I am sure by morning he will make back to the stable.
The lantern gave the forest a soft blue glow as they passed through its iron cage held intricate curving designs; I smiled as I watched Ryshiel out in front. She moved the lantern back and forth as if she expected to fall into quicksand or be attacked by a large wolf. It was slightly amusing as she was obviously from the city; not used to the wild outdoors. There was nothing to harm her in these forests. The manor estate was surrounded by a large stonewall that I had traveled along once looking for a way out when I was younger.
Coming out of the forest I saw the entire manor staff wandering about the grounds. Lanterns littered the lawn like fireflies. Ryshiel let go of my arm and continued to walk up the hill on her own. The servants that passed offered no kind remarks, but only contributed to my isolation with averted gazes. They did not care about me, only that their sweet and innocent Gwen was missing. Innocent, I had to laugh, mostly likely the girl is up in the old barn with Darian.
Momentarily a girl’s scream shattered the night’s silence. It came from the old barn. I threw back my head and laughed. Darling Gwen was going to be a lot of trouble, though so was I. Yet my sister’s reputation falling to pieces was worth my punishment.
Ryshiel had stopped and turned around, “Come on! I haven’t got all night.”
I followed Ryshiel up to the willow tree, where she went off to the stables. A crowd was gathering by the old barn awaiting the news from inside. The doors burst open to let out two women Mera had her hand firmly attached to Gwen’s ear. I couldn’t help but laugh. The two made there way up the hill towards me.
Mera stopped once she caught a sight of me, “and where were you?” Her voice was stern and her eyes cross.
She did not give me any time to answer for she took me by the ear, jerking my head down to her level. My sister and I were treated like disobedient little girls who just stole a cookie before supper, “Now if you two are going to behave like little children barely off their mother’s apron strings, you are going to be treated as such.” Mera went on without losing breath, “I may be an old woman, but I can still get you over my knee. Do I make myself clear?”
Mera ran the manor better than my mother. She was definitely the grandmother watching out for us, and dishing out the punishment when needed. With a strong tug, I felt Mera let go, leaving us to rub our ears.
“Do I make myself clear?” She repeated twice as cross, placing her hands on her hips.
“Yes,” Gwen and myself both sourly answered looking down at the ground.
Nodding to herself Mera walked past them and disappeared into the kitchen at the back of the manor. Gwen burst into tears and dashed inside after her. The crowd had slowly dispersed now that the show had ended. I gave a sigh and plucked out a few twigs stuck in my hair. I was about to step into the kitchen when I heard a rather loud raucous come from the parlor. The window was slightly open where harsh words escaped into the night.
I stepped to the side and wandered amidst the flowers in the garden. I found a bucket that had been left, so I used it as leverage to peer into the parlor. Inside I could see my mother sitting in her little armchair facing the opposite wall of the lavish green room. Her head was lowered, her eyes focused on her folded hands upon her lap. I couldn’t see the other woman, as she stood by the fireplace, her rough voice competing against the crackling embers of the fire.
“This is quite disappointing to find both your daughters missing Bwynwen,” the woman’s voice bellowed like a man’s, “If I find this more than just coincidence, so help me, those two will never see the light of day again.”
I strained to peer over the ledge, what did we bloody do other than just sit here and rot away?
“Please Councilor, they are just children!” My mother begged upon her knees.
I had never seen her give off so much emotion before. I didn’t think she was capable of it.
“I have already lost a husband and a son, please, my lady, please. I have not told them a thing of the prophecy,” Her mother screamed.
Erryn fell off the bucket, a brother? A prophecy? What is she bloody talking about? Suddenly the parlor was silent. I looked up to find the windows wide open and a lean woman with snow white hair peered out the window. She looked down and saw me lying in the dirt. She rolled her eyes and suddenly the woman was engulfed in a yellow light. I scurried backwards on my hands but a bubble of yellow air caught me, stifling my screams.
I was lifted out of the dirt and into the parlor where the bubble dissipated, “Witch!” I cursed.
“You forget your manners child,” she slapped me across the face with nothing but air as her hands never left her hips.
It stung. I lifted my arm to strike her back; my mother came over and grabbed my arm pulling it to my side. The woman wore dark blue robes that rested on the floor, the yellow glow made them appear green in parts. Her black eyes glowed with yellow specks like embers around the edge of the iris. She had a matching black crescent tattoo between her brows.
“Don’t you dare strike me child,” She stated as I began to rise.
I tried to move, but I was paralyzed. The woman was not engulfed anymore, I strained my eyes, unable to move and saw that Ryshiel, leaning against the parlor door, was the one who was lifting me up.
She smiled, “While you are up there, pay attention to Lady Zohara.”
The white haired woman continued, “You have a fool’s courage to dare strike a Jei. If you are not careful it will get you killed. Now lets get a few things straight shall we,” She crossed her arms over her chest, “We are not the guests here, you are. We own this land you do not. You are to answer to us, not us to you.”
I wanted to scream, but I had no air in my lungs, save the last bit for breathing. Ryshiel’s glow vanished and I dropped to the floor.
“Such as waste of a pretty face, mother,” Ryshiel commented.
“Indeed, our agreement still stands Bwynwen. I give you three days.” The old woman paused for a moment longer, then turned towards Ryshiel, where the two vanished together out of the parlor.
I was left sprawled out on the floor. My mother slapped me, the sting had to have left a mark upon my cheek. I didn’t know how to respond. I was confused. “Why?” My mother’s voice was rasp and weak, “Why did the Great Mother do this to me?”
The Great Mother, ha, useless she was. I didn’t believe in Larus, as she never answered any of my prayers. And this night was proof before me now that no such divine goddess of peace and balance of the universe existed. She was a goddess that defended love. No such thing existed here.
Flashes. I stood straight up from the mass of pillows. Tears flooded my eyes. My mother. I never knew if she ever loved me, all the evidence provided proved otherwise. Those memories that I have hidden were now as clear as day. The next morning, I now remember as clear as the finest crystal glass, Lady Zohara was found dead in her bed: poisoned. Her ghostly pale face rivaled a corpse tens years deceased and maggot infested. Shadows covered her half closed eyes – her glazed stare had pierced through my bones, chilling me even now. All the signs pointed to her daughter Ryshiel, but there was no proof.
The tent was pitch black, for I could not see a thing past my nose. I continued to sit up: I dare not go back to sleep tonight. I do not want to relive the past any longer. My breath was labored, my eyes heavy. But I remained strong in the face of this heartless sleep, for he was my foe tonight.