Divine Death

003 - 005 - Escape

2008-01-13T20:10:00.001-05:00

Elyria awoke to the sound of rustling cloth and the shuffle of soft footsteps on thick carpet. What little light was in the pavilion was defused by the pale pink netting curtaining the bed in which she lay all alone. She was warm and nested in the down pillows below, over and around her. Her naked skin tingled against the smooth surface of the silk fabric covering the comforters and quilts. When she shifted her limbs she caught the faint fragrance of roses and lavender. If she did not suspect that something was very wrong with this group of beautiful people, she could easily allow herself to luxuriate in this mindless comfort. She continued to relax in bed, pretending to be asleep until she thought the tent was empty.

When she sensed she was alone, she raised herself up on her elbows. Her head swam in a massive wave of dizziness. She lay back down and turned to her side, curling up in a fetal position until the room stopped spinning. Whatever herbs they had put in the wine she had drunk last night were not sitting well with her body and head this morning. She wondered if it were still morning as she lay there waiting for equilibrium. She couldn’t tell the time of day from where she was.

This time she rolled over and up from her side, her movements slow and deliberate. The silk covers slid off of her body like water, pooling at her feet as she stood up. If she didn’t move her head fast, she was steady and clear headed. She parted the bed curtains and stepped into the room, which was warm and draft free. The large bathing tub had been removed and the carpets that were under the cooper container had been replaced with fresh rugs. There were no signs of an indentation or the water that had sloshed out while the women had been bathing.

There were no other people in the pavilion. Elyria could not find any clothing either. She wanted to dress and sneak out of the tent and down the mountain to the village where she could be sure of safe haven from these unwanted visitors to the mountains. Since she was intimately knowledgeable of the area she felt certain she could escape without notice and be away before they could figure out which path she had taken. Going naked would not be the way to leave and go unnoticed.

She would have to make do with what was at hand and there were plenty of things to choose from here. She would need to work fast before any of the slaves or their masters returned. She used her teeth to rip the seams on a silk comforter, making two large bolts of material. She tore a hole in the middle of one of the sheets of silk and draped it over her head. She tore strips from the second piece of material and used these to tie and wrap the material around her waist and pull the hem up so it did not drag the ground and trip her. While adjusting her makeshift gown, she heard the clang and jangle of metal just outside the tent entrance. She rushed to the bed, crawled under the piles of covers and held her breath.

She heard voices and movement muffled by the blankets over her head. The sounds got closer and she could make out the voice of a woman and of a girl. The netting around the bed shifted and one of the two stroked her hair from her forehead.

“The wine must have been too strong for her,” said the woman.

Elyria thought this was Silva.

“I think we will need to put fewer herbs in tonight’s cup, although the display was quite lovely last night.” Silva chuckled low and with little true mirth. “This one is a good distraction for the ladies.”

“It was good to be able to sleep in peace last night,” said the girl. Hers was a voice Elyria could not place.

“Do you think she would do for the men, too?”

“Only if the Mistress tires of her and I do not think that likely to occur anytime soon. There is something about this one that The Lady wishes to possess.”

Elyria tried to suppress the shivers beginning in the core of her being. Now, she was more determined than ever to escape immediately, if only these two would leave.

“Place the water pitcher on the table and leave her things on the stool. We must go see to the finish of the platters for the evening meal before The Lady returns. They should be back soon. It is almost full dark.”

“Should I wake the girl?”

“When we are done with the food, we’ll come back and get her ready. Come.”

Elyria held her breath for ten heartbeats. She dared wait no longer. She rose up, throwing off the covers. The slaves had left. She did not have much time. She looked for her things on the stool. Everything was there, cleaned and laundered. She took her makeshift dress from her body and threw it on the floor, covering herself with her own shift. Her knife was on the pile too along with its belt. She grabbed them, went to the back of the tent, placed her ear on the wall and listened. She did not hear anything. Using her knife, she stabbed the tent wall and cut down, making an opening large enough for her to step through.

The back of the pavilion faced the woods. A short open distance was between Elyria and the trees. She sprinted for the safety of the dark shadows. She ignored the stones and twigs that gouged her bare feet. She reached the first trees and then cut off to the left and the downhill slope. She ran without looking back, staying deep under the cover of the spruce, ducking low hung branches. She ran until the sharp pain in her side forced her to stop. She found a clump of bushes and sat down behind them, catching her breath. The sun had set behind the mountain peeks and any light shining up from below was blocked by the thick tree limbs. She took the time for her eyes to adjust to the low light. She would need to stay within the forest the whole way down the mountain to make sure she was not followed and caught.

Her breathing steady and her heart beat back to normal, Elyria stood to begin her slow decent down the mountain. She took her time, keeping her tread light and pausing to listen for sounds. She picked up a sturdy branch to use as an additional weapon. She not only feared the pilgrims from Alexandria, but the animals that roamed at night looking for food. She stopped to pluck some onion roots from the ground. A stick snapped behind her.

003 - 004 - Bathing Beauty

2008-01-06T21:39:00.000-05:00

Elyria turned to the slave and the woman nodded to her. Elyria lifted the glass to her lips and tipped it up draining the contents.

“My name is Silva.” The woman whispered in Elyria’s ear. Silva stroked Elyria’s hair.

“I will be your waiting woman,” she said. “Do as I tell you and it will be easier for you.” Silva braided Elyria’s hair and tied it to the top of her head. Silva left Elyria briefly with the drinking cup. When she returned the cup was once again full. Silva squatted in front of her and handed her the goblet.

“Look at me,” she said.

Elyria looked down into Silva’s eyes. Silva’s eyes were dark and heavy lidded and she looked back at Elyria with an expression of sincere desperation.

“Make things as easy as possible for all of us. Drink up again and you will be treated as a pampered pet. If you do not cooperate, the mistress will take it out on the rest of us and you saw how she treats anyone who displeases her.”

Elyria felt drowsy and her limbs felt heavy. Silva took Elyria’s feet in her hands and massaged them. When Elyria did not drink, Silva helped her lifted the cup to her mouth. Elyria thought about the young slave girl. She did not want anyone to suffer just because she would not drink the wine. She drank and Silva smiled at her.

The young slave girl return and she helped Silva stand Elyria up. Elyria had to lean on the girl. She felt very tired and dreamy. She stood docile as Silva took her dirty clothes from her body. She heard Rosalba and Rosalin giggle off to her right through a haze of rosy lights that added a beautiful glow to the low lights in the pavilion. Silva whispered in Elyria’s ear that the young slave girl was called Tonda and Tonda and Silva would help her into the waiting bath. Elyria floated between the two slave women, her toes kissing the warm soft carpets.

The stopped in front of Lady Pricilla’s chair, who put down a juicy piece of fruit she had been eating to brush her nails across Elyria’s flat belly. Goose bumps danced on Elyria’s skin and she moaned low in her throat as she slumped against her handlers. Her head rested on her left shoulder and from that angle she saw Rosalba and Rosalin rise up on their own from their cloudy perch, face each other and kiss, long and deep. Only far back in her hazy mind did Elyria wonder at the closeness of the sisters and she did not find it strange when they began to slip their gowns from their shoulders and let them cascade to the feather pillows under their feet. As she watched the sisters caress, she felt hands upon her own body, warm and soft and demanding. She dragged her eyes from the sensuous view of Rosalba and Rosalin in affectionate embrace to follow Lady Pricilla’s hands on her naked arms and waist and breasts. Elyria thought she might like to protest against this unusual treatment but she rather liked the feel of Lady Pricilla’s hands on her body.

“Get in the bath, my sweet,” said Lady Pricilla, “and we will join you.” She squeezed one of Elyria’s buttocks and gave her a little slap.

Tingles rose up Elyria’s legs and settled just below her belly button. Silva and Tonda helped her to the tub. Elyria could not climb into the bath. Her limbs were too heavy and did not respond to her. A male slave lifted her from her feet and slid her into the water. His hands were rough compared to Lady Pricilla’s and Elyria wanted that softness again. She wanted it so much that she whimpered. She almost wept when Lady Pricilla’s stepped into the water next to her. Elyria looked at Lady Pricilla like a starving man looks at a feast.

Lady Pricilla stood next to Elyria and allowed Elyria to look at her. Lady Pricilla scooped up some of the warm scented water and dribbled it upon her legs. Elyria licked her lips and her fingers itched. Rosalba and Rosalin stepped into the bath next to Lady Pricilla. They cupped water in their hands and smoothed it upon Lady Pricilla. She held out her hands to Elyria to lift her up to her. Elyria stood and fell into Lady Pricilla’s arms. Her wet naked body slipped and slid against Lady Pricilla. Lady Pricilla slipped her hands into Elyria’s hair, pulled her head towards her and placed her lips upon Elyria’s mouth, parting Elyria’s lips with the tip of her tongue. Her mouth became more demanding and she nipped at Elyria’s lower lip, sucking on it. Elyria’s skin was chilling from standing wet but parts of her were being warmed by small hands stroking her back and moving down her thighs while her mouth was on fire and hungry, moving on its power, following the lessons being given to her by Lady Pricilla. Her legs were weak and vibrated with a need she had never felt before. The feelings and urges in her body were so strong that she attempted to pull away from Lady Pricilla, but Rosalba and Rosalin kept stroking her and Silva placed another goblet in her hands. She drank in an attempt to quench her thirst but the wine only seemed to increase the heat between her legs.

Lady Pricilla and Rosalba and Rosalin lowered Elyria into the warm scented water, laying her over some sort of couch that she had not known was part of the bathing tub. A pillow was placed under her head. Every part of her skin was alive with sensation and the only thing that stopped it from being painful was the hands and their caresses. She wanted relief from the continuous ache so she closed her eyes and gave her body over to them.

003 - 003 - Pretty Web

2008-01-04T14:22:00.001-05:00

Elyria stared at the girls with her mouth hanging opening, until they reached out to her in unison and wiggle their fingers at her, becoming her to them. Elyria did not move but she did not need to. The slaves carrying the girls moved to her, one on her left and one on her right. The girls wrapped their thin arms around her, their skin sliding over her like a soft breeze. The blond girl placed a hand on either side of Elyria’s face and gently brushed her full lips against Elyria’s mouth. She turned Elyria’s face to the brown curled girl who was her twin in every way but hair color. With the blond still holding Elyria’s head in her hands, the brown hair girl covered her sister’s hands and then she kissed Elyria. Her kiss was moist, with her lips parted. When she pulled back, she licked her own lips. Both girls smiled at Elyria while they stroked her cheeks and shoulders.

“You are already close friends,” said Lady Pricilla. “Come, my sweets.” Lady Pricilla led the way to the opening of the large tent. “We will bathe and dine and relax and Elyria will have the opportunity to get to know Rosalba and Rosalin.”

Lady Pricilla paused before the entrance to the pavilion. Two female slaves rushed forward and held back the flaps. She entered the tent. Her hand appeared at the tent entrance and Elyria was pushed forward to take Lady Pricilla’s hand. Elyria was drawn into a space lit in pale pink light. Oil lamps in pink glass jars flickered from tables dressed in silks in rainbow colors. The ground was covered with carpets so thick, Elyria’s feet left prints as if she were walking in grass covered in morning dew. A small cooper pot sat on a brazier with sweet steam drifting into the air. Elyria recognized apples and oranges and roses, but heavier, earthier scents were mixed in. The roof of the tent was held up by two poles and between them in the center of the tent was a large pallet that looked like a white cloud topped with pillows in jeweled reds and blues and greens. A sheer net in pale pink draped over the bed making a tent within the tent.

The two girls, Rosalba and Rosalin, (Elyria wasn’t sure which was which) were laid on the bed with great care. They sank into the pillows and arranged themselves into a pretty picture while the slaves propped up pillows behind them so they would not need to strain to sit up.

Off to the right of the bed was a large copper tub the size of a small lake. It was still being filled by slaves bringing in large buckets of hot water. Lady Pricilla went to the tub to check the temperature of the water. A girl no more than ten years old carrying a bucket of hot water to big and heavy for her size, stumbled, sloshing some water on the carpet near Lady Pricilla. Lady Pricilla back-handed the girl across the face leaving a large red welt on the girl’s left cheek. Her cheek began to bleed where it was cut by one of Lady Pricilla’s rings. The girl never shed a tear or spilled another drop of water. Rosalba and Rosalin giggled from their cozy perch. Lady Pricilla rinsed her hand off in the tub water.

“I should have you empty and refill the tub,” said Lady Pricilla to the girl. “But as we are all tired I will punish you later in some other way.” The girl stared at her feet, still holding the full bucket of water. “Go get another bucket of water for this one. It’s cold.” Lady Pricilla turned from the girl to sit in an armed chair cushioned with pillows. A stool was brought, her feet were raised, her shoes removed and her naked feet placed on the stool while a glass goblet was placed in her hand. She drank the contents in one breath and handed the glass back for more. It was taken and filled and brought back to her. She gestured in Elyria’s direction with her free hand.

A different young girl and an older woman approached Elyria. They guided her to a stool next to a table. The older woman handed Elyria a full goblet. Elyria sniffed at it and took a sip. She placed the glass on the table. The girl was removing Elyria’s shoes. The older woman picked up the glass of wine and handed it back to Elyria. While standing behind Elyria to pull all of her hair back, the woman leaned close to her and whispered in Elyria’s ear.

“Drink all of that wine and quickly,” she said. “You will need it very soon.”

003 – 002 – Predator and Prey

2007-09-23T13:13:00.000-04:00

“Lady Pricilla,” said Fendor, “I introduce to you the Keeper of the Shrine, Elyria the Healer, a free woman of the Celtic tribes of Noricum.” Fendor pulled Elyria closer to the Lady Pricilla as he recited this long list of Elyria’s dignity.

The Lady Pricilla stood straight and still in her fine colors. The material wafted in the slight breeze of the evening, highlighting with shadow her rounded breasts, hips and thighs. She looked at Elyria from head to foot and back again, moving her gaze with deliberation, lingering in certain areas of Elyria’s body. Vindicius whispered into Lady Pricilla’s ear. Lady Pricilla and Vindicius smiled, showing all of their white teeth.

Elyria shivered, she assumed because of the night shade but deep down she thought it because she felt like a lamb at auction.

“I am honored to meet you, Lady Elyria,” said Pricilla, “We will be spending much time together in our pursuit of spiritual growth and our journey to Everlasting Life.”

Elyria moved to speak but Fendor tightened his grip on her hand and pulled her back. Elyria smiled and kept quiet.

“Madam, I think it best you set up camp and rest from your journey,” said Fendor, “You are safe enough here.”

“I agree,” said Vindicius, “There will be plenty of time to explore now that you are arrived. Rest and we will all meet in a day to discuss matters.” Vindicius looked from Lady Pricilla to Elyria. “Perhaps the Lady Elyria,” Vindicius paused, “would care to stay in the tent of you and your women until we are all rested and refreshed.”

“Unfortunately, Elyria must return to her home where the people who need her may find her.” Fendor spoke for Elyria. She frowned at his presumption but she did not want to stay among these dazzling people who reminded her of insects. They were alien to her and she felt uncomfortable and in danger, so she did not attempt to argue with Fendor.

Vindicius smiled, flashing all of his teeth.

“We will send a slave to Elyria’s home to keep it and let anyone looking for her know where she may be found.” Vindicius turned to the Lady Pricilla. “We would consider it an honor, would we not, My Lady, to entertain the Keeper of the Shrine and a boon from her if she would consent.”

Pricilla looked directly into Elyria’s eyes. Elyria felt a heat begin in her loins and rise up her body and burn with intensity in her cheeks. She felt herself to be in mortal danger but could not explain why to herself or anyone else if they asked. She only knew she must try to get away from Pricilla, who was at this moment licking her lips, slowly and delicately.

“Madam, I would gladly comply on another day, but I am expected in the village on the morrow and if I do not arrive as expected, the men will be sent to search for me and I do not wish to inconvenience them unnecessarily.”

Elyria maintained eye contact for as long as she could and then dropped her gaze to the ground, blushing again, but continuing in her plea to leave.

“The town is expecting a supply of medicines that they have not been able to receive for the past moon turn because of the weather. I beg your understanding and forbearance.”

“You will stay.” Lady Pricilla said. She did not shout but her words carried to every person in the clearing.

She clapped her hands and the slaves moved in earnest, unpacking the crates on the wagons. A small village rose in the glade.

Lady Pricilla, Vindicius, Fendor and Elyria were four unmoving points, waiting. Elyria could feel the tension emanating from Fendor beside her. She was confused by his behavior. These were his people whom he had intended to bring here. His reluctance to allow her to stay with them was puzzling and added to her feeling of danger.

A large tent grew close to Lady Pricilla’s wagon. The slaves filled it with cushions and rugs and pillows. A chair was removed from Lady Pricilla’s traveling wagon and placed in the tent. Lady Pricilla moved forward and took Elyria’s hand.

“It is full dark now,” she said, “We will bathe you and feed you and hold you to our breast, so that you may pass a pleasurable night among new friends.”

Lady Pricilla guided Elyria to the pavilion. Slaves reached into the traveling wagon and lifted two small and almost identical girls from the draped transport. Each was cloaked in fabric that looked like water cascading over their lithe bodies. One possessed hair the color of ripened wheat in the sun and the other, curls of soft brown, like the grain in highly polished wood. Each lay in the arms of a male slave, awake, hands resting on their chests. Their large, round, doe-like eyes found Lady Pricilla.

“My little dolls,” said Lady Pricilla, “I have found you a new playmate.”

003 - 001 - Unexpected Gift

2006-07-09T19:16:00.000-04:00

“Those two men are not to be trusted.” Fendor said to the empty space left by Vindicius and Titus. “No matter what you may see in the future, Elyria, remember their behaviors to you now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I may say no more.” Fendor turned from the cave entrance and walked back to where Elyria sat. He took her hands in his and brought her to her feet.

“You must go back to your hut without being seen. Gather your belongings and retreat to the village on the lake.” He guided her to the mouth of the cavern. “Vindicius and I are already enemies. He believes you have aligned yourself with me, therefore, he counts you as his enemy, too.”

“I have a duty to this shrine and any visitors who wish to visit it.” She pulled from his hold. “I must stay and perform my duty as my oath requires.”

“Does your oath require that you die at the hands of men without honor?”

“If my death occurs in the service of my gods, then, yes, that is what is required of me.” She raised her chin in defiance and looked him in the eyes.

Fendor stood transfixed by her stare. Time seemed to slow and sound muted. He had visions of galloping into the western hills with Elyria in the saddle in front of him. He raised his hand, about to stroke her cheek, when the clank of metal and horses neighing disturbed the air. The sound of many voices soon followed.

“Stay here while I see what all of the noise means. Perhaps you could wash the blood and dirt from your face and arms.” Fendor left the cave assuming Elyria would obey his orders.

She, on the other hand, knew herself to be more than a simpering maid. She went to the pool that formed from water seeping through the crack in the cave walls. Splashing water on her face and neck, she scrubbed and rinsed until she thought most of it was gone. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves, and then followed Fendor out towards the commotion which seemed to come from the clearing where Fendor had left his horses.

She edged along the mountain slope that curved away from the entrance to the cave. Trees concealed the base of the wall and created a perfect hiding place to steal back to the clearing. Elyria, lost in her wonderings about the noise, ran into the back of Fendor, who had hunched down behind bushes along the clearing’s edge. He nearly fell over from the impact.

Both managed to stifle their cries. Fendor pulled Elyria down beside him, giving her a scowl as he did so. He pointed through the bushes to the space in front of them.

A great party of horses and men congregated in the clearing. In the center of the milling hoard, a fine sedan chair rested, draped in purples and reds. Gold threads sparkled in the last of the setting sun’s rays. On the ground around the majestic assemblage lay a pile of plain wool fabric, dusty and dirty from the road. Behind the chair sat an empty flatbed cart, ropes trailing on the ground around all four sides. Two great oxen were being unharnessed from the wagon. It seemed that the elegant traveling couch had been strapped to the wagon and covered in plain stuff to give the whole the appearance of a poor supply wagon.

Workers, men and women, wrapped only in cloth sheets and bare footed, toiled around the caravan: some rolling up ropes, others folding the coverings. These were placed on the empty wagon bed. While these people worked, five men on war horses fidgeted in their seats and the great beasts stomped their great hooves where they stood. Most had their backs to the wagons, searching the forests that surrounded them. The sedan chair remained still.

“It seems the party has arrived.” Fendor spoke close to Elyria’s ear. “I do not understand this turn of events.”

“Who…” Elyria began. Fendor held his hand over her mouth.

“Later. Now, we will move around to the front of the clearing and enter it directly, so that those warriors do not kill us in ignorance.”

They moved quietly past the bushes until they reached the path. Fendor rose up straight, and brushed himself off with his hands. Elyria rose beside him. She looked down at her plain chemise and smock, smudged with dirt, torn and freckled with twigs. There was not much help for her garments, so she did not even try to adjust their appearance. Besides, who would notice her in this throng of people and animals?

Fendor called out in a language unknown to Elyria. The men on horseback looked in their direction, hands on swords, but did not move forward in alarm. Fendor began walking into the clearing, and then stopped when he noticed Elyria did not follow. He stopped, held out his hand to her and waited for her to join him. She hesitated only a brief moment more. She moved up to him, took his hand and smiled up at him. Together, they entered the dell.

All eyes looked in their direction as they came closer to the equipment. People stopped their tasks and turned to face them. Fendor came to a halt when Vindicius rounded the edge of the conveyance. He touched the chair’s draperies with a possessive air. He put his face close to the hangings and whispered into them. He cocked his ear to listen to a reply that no one else heard. Vindicius snapped his fingers at two men dressed in brown tunics and sandals. They ran to his side, bowed at his quiet instructions, grasped the edges of the curtains and pulled them back.

The interior lay in shadows, but Elyria detected movement. She waited with held breath. Slowly, a dainty covered foot emerged followed by shimmering, flowing fabric in dramatic reds and blues. The fantastic array held at its top a head of massed brown ringlets, ribboned and bejeweled. This majestic vision stood straight and erect, chin pointed high.

Elyria gasped.

Great, deep brown eyes looked down a long, straight nose at her and lingered on Fendor’s hand on hers. She spoke to Vindicius, but Elyria did not hear the words. She suspected she would not have understood even if she had heard. Vindicius leaned towards the woman and had to tilt his head up to reply to her: she stood a half head taller than him.

The woman gazed at Elyria, but spoke to Fendor. To Elyria’s surprise the woman spoke and Elyria could understand her.

“Fendor, we are well met.”

Fendor bowed.

“Madam, you are well come, but unexpected at this time.”

“Our plans changed. We will discuss this later.”

“As you wish, madam.”

“Tell, me, Fendor, what gift do you bring? Who is this lovely little wild flower you deliver to me?”

002 - 005 - The First Threats

2006-05-21T20:44:00.000-04:00

Death must wait for her. She felt energy building in her stomach. Her tears of fear turned to tears of anger. She leaned forward, grabbed Fendor by the hips and bit into his side where the blood from her knife wound blossomed on his tunic. Fendor let out a yelp, wound the fingers of one hand into her hair and pulled her away from his body. He held her at arm’s length by her dirty and tangled black hair, his dagger at her throat.

“What in the name of all the gods are you doing?” He applied pressure to her neck. “Keep still or I will accidentally cut your head off.”

“Oh, like you mistakenly killed my puppies?” The tingling on her scalp from the roots straining in their foundations brought fresh tears to her eyes.

“I did not kill your wolf cubs and by accusing me, you will never figure out who really did.” Fendor stared her in the eyes. The lines around his eyes and mouth softened. He loosened his grip on Elyria’s hair but still kept his hand in place. He lowered his knife, tucking it in its sheath.

She reached up to scratch the itch on her scalp and came in contact with his hand. He laced his fingers into hers, bringing their arms down to their sides.

“I like animals. I liked your puppies.” He coughed and squeezed her hand. “I do not kill anything for no good reason.”

“But, you are the only one who came up here.”

“No, that’s not true, is it?”

Elyria let that sink in. Vindicius and Titus sneaked into the area without her knowledge. She knew less of them than she did of Fendor. The two of them had caused the hair on her arms to rise. She shivered now at the thought of them.

“Perhaps you are not responsible,” she said. She needed to center herself. She needed to calm her mind. She shocked herself by how quickly she strove for revenge. She promised herself she would remain calm and look for the truth.

“Why have you brought me in here?” She thought a change of direction might help.

“I don’t know how Vindicius and Titus got here. I don’t believe their arrival bodes well.”

“You obviously know each other.”

“I know them both very well and this is a knowledge I would gladly do without.” Fendor stroked Elyria’s wrist with his thumb. They had been holding hands all along. She pulled her hand away from his and smoothed down her chemise, just remembering how she must appear to him.

“Vindicius and I owe allegiance to the same good lady. He guides her soul on its path to its home with The Christ. He is her priest. Titus owes his allegiance to himself alone, but accepts special tasks from Vindicius for gold, thus chaining their souls to one another.” Fendor sat on the stone bench patting the spot next to him. Elyria hesitated briefly, but then decided she could trust him within limits. He had several opportunities to do away with her and he had not taken them.

“You do not like Vindicius.” She felt the heat of his body reach out to her. The warmth soothed her. Drafts of air flowed by them, damp and cold from the bowels of the earth. He removed his light cape from his shoulders and draped it around hers. It held the smell of wood smoke and pine.

“No, I do not. He professes a faith in a God that values peace and poverty and selfless duty to others. He acts like a god himself, taking to his person riches and the slavery of those he should help.” Fendor left his arm around Elyria. She moved closer to him. She fit into his side. He grimaced as she came in contact with the knife and teeth wound she had inflicted on him earlier. She touched the spot with her fingertips.

“I will clean this wound for you.”

“It is of no consequence.” Fendor gave a short, strangled laugh. “You should look to cleaning yourself up.” Fendor leaned closer to Elyria. “What is more important is determining why Vindicius has appeared here.” He jumped to his feet and began pacing the cave floor. “His orders charged him with organizing the pilgrimage at its origin. He cannot do so if he is here.” Fendor punctuated this by punching his fist into the cave wall. Dust showered down from the spot. He kept moving without pause.

“Perhaps your group has assembled and he came to find you.”

“He must have followed me, to be here, now, at this time.”

“He could have used the same source at the library you did and followed his own route here.”

“Yes, that is possible. He travels in more luxurious ways than me. I would not have seen him.” Fendor stopped in front of her. “I want to know why.”

“Can’t you ask him?”

“Yes and he will gladly answer me. But it will not be the truth. His answers, his words are deceptive. He sculpts creations to support his needs.”

A shadow crossed the mouth of the cave. Elyria caught it from the corner of her eye. She moved to stand, but Fendor held up a hand to stop her. He placed his finger over his lips to signal her silence. He cocked an ear in the direction of the entrance. They waited listening. They waited for several minutes. When she thought it must have been a cloud passing over head, she heard gravel shift just outside.

Fendor inched over to the edge of the opening, without so much as disturbing the air around him. When he stood by the entrance, he waited.

Elyria’s foot began to itch. Her nose tickled. She struggled to ignore her body’s treachery. She looked at the roof. She twitched her nose. She jumped when Fendor reached around the lip of the entry and pulled Titus into the cave, throwing him to the ground, face first. Fendor planted a foot on Titus’ back, holding him down.

Titus kicked his legs and flayed his arms, throwing dirt into the air but not succeeding his getting out of his trap. Fendor kept his boot on his back until Titus quit his struggles. Fendor rolled him over with his foot and placed it on Titus’ chest.

“What does one do with a sneak, with a snake?” Fendor shook his head at Titus. Elyria couldn’t take her eyes off of the oily and now dirty Titus. Spittle flew from his mouth as he struggled to speak. His cheeks glowed red against the pale white of his face.

“Must you always mishandle my servants?” Vindicius sauntered into their gathering. “Dear lady, be wary of this man’s temper. He lashes out on a whim.” He came over to Elyria and sat down. He took her hand in his own. Fendor glared at him.

“Sir, take care of your familiarity with me.” Elyria pulled from Vindicius’ touch. A scowl passed over his face, Elyria not even sure she had seen it.

“You did not so caution our friend.” His tongue poked out of the side of his mouth at her. He rose and took a regal stance. “The evils of the flesh will doom you to Hell. Satan lusts after young women who are weak and easily tempted.” He turned and left.

Titus used their shocked silence to crawl from the cave. Standing at the entrance, he looked over his shoulder at them and winked.

“There will come a reckoning for you both.”

002 - 004 - Facing Death

2006-05-13T21:25:00.000-04:00

The boot stood on Elyria’s blades. It felt like the boot stomped on her heart. She tried to get up but fell back down when hands behind her put pressure on her shoulders. At least two people surrounded her.

She looked at the boot. Made of soft leather, the workmanship spoke of artistry and wealth. Her eyes traveled up the calf, noting fine wool trousers, on to the embroidered edge of a tunic, topped by a gold clasp holding a cape around the shoulders of a man with deep brown eyes. His cheeks and chin showed signs of daily shaves. His head held a mass of wavy brown hair trimmed to the base of his neck. This man’s appearance spoke of wealth. Clean from top to bottom, his clothes looked as if they had just left the seamstress’s hands.

Elyria frowned at him and he replied with a broad, white grin. She started to say something to him. He stopped her by placing two fingertips on her lips. He took his foot off of her knife. He squatted down so they were eye to eye. She couldn’t stop looking at his face. Smooth, not weather beaten; no wrinkles, no scares; his face was beautiful. His lashes framed wide, big eyes in long, sweeping fringe, which brushed his high-boned cheeks when he blinked.

She blushed. She stared openly at this stranger. She looked at his mouth; full and chiseled, slightly parted, moist and curled up at the corners. Her cheeks burned with her embarrassment. She felt heat rising in other areas of her body. The hair on her arms stood up and her belly took a tumble.

He smiled again. He brushed the hair from her face. His touch was soft. He stroked along her cheeks and down her neck. She shivered. She couldn’t seem to move. He leaned in closer to her.

“There you are.”

They both jumped and looked up. Fendor stood behind the stranger.

“What are you doing?”

“I came looking for you, murderer.” Elyria felt her rage rising as she stood up.

“I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to Vindicius.” Fendor stared at the man’s back. Fendor moved around him, stepping in front of Elyria and facing the beautiful man.

“Vindicius, this is the keeper of the cave. Stay away from her.”

Vindicius rose with slow and careful movements.

“Yes, Fendor, your wish is my command.” He performed a small bow.

Fendor’s back was to Elyria. She bent down and picked up her dagger. She thrust it at him, striking him in his side. He jerked around, grabbing her wrist. She struggled to break free of his grip. Her knife fell when her fingers lost their feeling.

“What in Hades name are you doing?” He took hold of her other hand as she attempted to claw at his face. She kicked him in the shin. He spun her around, slamming her back into his stomach, knocking the air out of her lungs in a whoosh.

“Keep still, wench and tell me what this is about.” He shook her and then held her tighter.

“Murderer!” It came out in a gush of air as Fendor lifted her off of the ground. When she looked at Vindicius, he grinned at her.

“Why do you call me that?” Fendor asked.

“I don’t think she likes you.” This from a man she couldn’t see.

“Titus, your opinion is not necessary.” Fendor gave Elyria a brief squeeze. “I do expect an answer from you, though.”

Feet dangling in the air beneath her, a god smiling in front of her, and her slaughtered puppies fresh in her mind, she screamed.

“You’re a killer. You’re a murderer.”

“I have killed many people, it is true, but, none that you would know.”

“You butchered One and Two. You slit their throats on your trek up here.”

She found herself flung into the arms of Vindicius. He caught hold of her, wrapping an arm around her ribs, his hand brushing her breast as he held her. She tried to pull away but he held on to her.

“Relax,” he whispered in her ear.

She trembled, not sure if it was from Vindicius’ touch, the look on Fendor’s face or the leer from the man who must be Titus.

“Relax,” Vindicius said again, but she didn’t relax. She pulled away from him. He let her go.

She stood in front of Fendor and forced herself to look into his face. He glared at her, looking her up and down, taking in her dirty and disheveled appearance, his mouth shut in an angry line.

“Admit you did it, you coward.” She said in a matter of fact tone. She stared him in the eye. He scowled back.

“Say something.”

“Yes, Fendor, say something.” Titus stepped up next to Fendor and brushed his fingers on Fendor’s arm. Fendor jerked away from him. Titus smiled in a lopsided way.

Titus’ appearance distracted and disturbed Elyria. His nose looked as if it had been broken several times. The bones of his nose meandered back and forth with scares crossing the bridge and webbing out onto his pitted cheeks. His thin face gave the appearance of someone who never got enough to eat. His hair and his woolen cloak had streaks of grease on them. His fingers were long and bony, the nails chipped and jagged. His footwear consisted of cheap wooden soles laced on his feet with leather strips. He leered at her and in this nearness she could see his brown teeth, rotting nibs in his mouth. Bile rose in her throat. She could not have imagined a more incompatible group of men.

“Fendor, the lady wants you to explain yourself.” Titus’ voice wheedled, making Elyria cringe.

Vindicius stood by, a smile on his beautiful face.

“You must tell her why you killed her little wolfies.” Vindicius sounded strangely like Titus.

Fendor gave Vindicius an odd look, took hold of Elyria by her upper arm and dragged her away from the other two men.

“Don’t you touch me,” she said, as he pulled her along behind him.

“Keep your mouth shut until I tell you it’s fine to speak.”

“I don’t take orders from murderers.”

“I did not kill your ‘wolfies’, wench.” Fendor dragged her past his campsite and his horses. She struggled to keep up with him.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Hush.”

“No. I want to know where we are going. Are you going to kill me, too?”

He tugged her arm in answer.

She could see they were headed towards the first of the caves. Once they went through the entrance, Fendor pushed her down onto the stone bench carved into the wall. She attempted to jump up, but he just shoved her back down and stood above her, blocking any upward and forward motion. He placed his hands on the wall above her head. She had to lean back to look up to see his face. She felt tears come to her eyes and hated herself for her weakness. She didn’t want to die.

002 - 003 - Thirst for Revenge

2006-04-29T19:01:00.000-04:00

Elyria stroked the gashes in the pups’ necks. The blood had not finished congealing. She smoothed the fur on their necks covering the cuts. She wiped away the tears running down her face, marking her cheeks with blood-red battle stripes. Careening back and forth on her knees, hugging herself and shaking her fists at the heavens, she screamed out in agony. She tore her smock at neck and hem. She grabbed fistfuls of dirt and rubbed the dirt onto her arms and legs. She pulled her hair from its woolen string, unwinding her braid and splaying her hair to the wind.

“I will kill him.”

Elyria stood and took a deep, steadying breath. She must do what was needed to avenge this evil act. Standing in the spot where she had collapsed in pain, she surveyed the scene.

Both wolf cubs did indeed have their throats slashed. She couldn’t see any other signs of injury. Their bodies lay next to each other. Two’s left paw rested on top of One’s chest, as if comforting his brother.
Elyria did not understand how one man could have killed both dogs and walked away without injuries of his own.

She looked over her shoulder in the direction she had come. She saw Fendor’s footprints, and the hoof tracks of his animals. They got lost in the destroyed grass and churned dirt, and moved off clearly to her right, continuing on the path up the mountain. She saw no signs of blood anywhere except on the pups. Only the area around the dogs was disturbed, an area a man’s height in a circle, enclosing One and Two. She turned around, scanning the area, confirming her first view.

Elyria got down on her knees to see the ground more closely. Fendor’s boot prints moved in a continuous line from one side of the killing space to the other side, never changing direction. There were no boot marks on the outer edges. This made no sense. She found two boot prints that were disturbed by soft rounded pressure over top of them. She moved out from the center but didn’t see any other marks.

Walking around the area in ever widening circles, she came back to the bodies of One and Two. Kneeling by them, she combed down their fur with her hands and straightened their limbs. Holding a palm over each of their heads, she prayed.

“Great Mother of us all, gather your children back to your breast. Suckle them to grow strong in their next lives. Mighty Father, let your sword avenge this wrong committed against your innocent creatures.”

Elyria kissed One by his ears. She bent to place a kiss on Two’s forehead. She saw a bright blue shiny piece of material between his teeth. She gently pulled the strip from Two’s mouth. Rubbing the cloth with her thumb and first finger, it felt fine and smooth. This was no material she had seen before. She folded it and carefully placed it in the pouch she carried around her neck.

After one more silent look at her companions of the last six months, she turned her back on the bodies of the pups and left them for Nature to reclaim her own.

With her dagger drawn in her right hand and her left hand gripping the hilt of her sword, she moved forward along the path letting her weapon points lead the way. She followed Fendor’s tracks, watching the trees on each side of her. She traveled on in caution and determination. The continuous uphill climb had no effect on her. She had grown up in these mountains and her breathing adjusted with ease. She kept her mind on her goal: finding Fendor and killing him. She shoved aside the voices of her parents telling her revenge only hurt the person exacting the revenge. Fendor must be made to pay.

On she trudged for more than an hour. The sun ducked below the peaks of the mountain, but she did not put on her cloak despite the drop in temperature that happened at this time of day. Her exertions kept her warm. She knew that three more turns in the path would bring her to the base of the cave entrances. She slowed her pace so that she could catch Fendor unawares.

The first cave in the series of four caverns had a public shrine. It was easiest to reach and was maintained in a comfortable way to distract the uninitiated from the more holy sites further up the mountain. She predicted Fendor would stop at this cave and go no further. Very few people knew about the additional caves and the three other caves did not have accommodations for pilgrims.

Just before the final turn in the path to the first cave, Elyria left the path to her left. She knew a back way to the cave that would allow her to sneak up on the area. She parted the tree branches, making sure they made no noise. The ground was covered in moss and absorbed any sounds her feet might make. Taking her time moving up through the spruce grove, she came to the edge of the wood and positioned herself behind a trunk. She looked around. All was quiet.

Elyria moved tree by tree to the right, getting closer to the front of the cave entrance. She still did not see anyone or anything.

She heard a horse whiny, to be answered by the snort of a second animal. The sounds came from further to her right. She kept moving in that direction, stopping periodically to listen. After ten minutes, she heard a hoof stomp and a neighing.

She saw three horses tied to a tree, their packs removed and placed in a pile on the ground. Moving closer still, she looked for signs of Fendor. He did not seem to be in his camp, but there was a pile of kindling in the center of the area he had chosen.

She sat down by the boulder she was hiding behind to wait for his return. Laying her dagger and sword beside her on the ground, she shrugged off her backpack and untied and removed her cloak from her waist. She rummaged in her pack for the dried meat she had placed there when she had started out on this trip. She couldn’t eat the meat, saddened when it reminded her she would never feed bits of it to One and Two again. She jumped when she heard metal grind on metal.

She turned towards where she had laid her knives to see a suede booted foot standing on them.

002 - 002 - Losing Count

2006-03-14T21:38:00.000-05:00

Elyria grabbed her cloak. The sun would be going down in a few hours and the caves would be cold. She folded the cloak and wrapped it around her waist to free up her hands, tying it with a piece of rope.

Fendor left the shed cleaner than when he came. He cleared out the old, used, wet straw, along with the animals’ wastes. If she didn’t know better, she would think the place had always been empty. No clue showed on the years old, hard packed floor.

When she went to the back wall to get her traveling gear, she noticed that Fendor had taken some of the dried, salted mutton. She pulled down a water sack for herself. She gathered a fist full of meat strips and added them to the hard biscuits in her backpack.

Stepping out of the shed, she checked the ground from the entrance of the shed to the outside well. She saw several hoof prints in the damp earth. She also caught signs of Fendor’s hard-soled Roman style boots. He had filled up his drink bladder with water from the well just as she was doing now.
When looking around for signs of Fendor’s trail, she saw three freshly killed and skinned rabbits hanging high in a tree. He had gotten her fresh meat.

She found tracks that led from the well to the most direct and shortest path to the caves. Elyria wondered how Fendor had chosen this less obvious route. The bushes grew around its mouth, obscuring it from view. Most people took one of the other two paths, each of which looked more inviting and friendly. She ducked under the branches shielding the path and began the two-hour trek up the mountain. She might even catch up with Fendor quickly. She did not have pack animals with her and she breathed easily up in the mountains. Fendor and the horses would take several breaks in their upward climb.

After a couple of hundred feet, the brush thinned around the path and the sun shone through the trees. She whistled as she hiked. She held her face up to the sunlight, enjoying the warmth after the past several days of rain and cold. The birds sang in the trees and twittered in the bushes. The pups must really be having fun romping through the woods on a day like this.

Once she made sure the sacred areas had not been disturbed, she would let someone from the village know that Fendor had gotten her drunk and he roamed around the area. The villagers would scare him off. They didn’t need his kind in the area.

About an hour after she had started out, she had gone half as much more than half way. She checked the ground for continuing signs of Fendor’s passing and came to an abrupt halt. Mixed with the tracks she recognized as Fendor’s and his animals, she saw paw prints. Moving along the path more slowly, she saw that the ground appeared torn up as if a struggle had occurred. She stood up and scanned the area. It was then that she noticed how quiet it was. The birds had stopped singing. Into that stillness came the call of a golden eagle, piercing into her. She looked up into the sky and saw three of them circling above the path in the area around the upcoming bend.

She took her time moving forward. She did not know what awaited her ahead, but the circling birds were not a good sign. The birds were calling to the dead. She moved against the tree at the corner of the path as it turned to the right. She peeked around the trunk and let out a cry. She dropped all of her belongings and ran to the carnage she saw up ahead. In the path, amid the chaos of the torn grass, dug up dirt and dislodged stones, lay the mutilated bodies of One and Two, their throats cut.

002 - 001 - Hidden Agenda

2006-01-25T20:50:00.000-05:00

Elyria woke to light coming through the square window across the room. She shook her head. It felt fuzzy and her mouth felt like fur covered her tongue. She sat up, wondering how the window became uncovered. She looked around and saw the hide folded on one of the stools. One and Two were not in her hut. Fendor wasn’t there either.

She looked out of the window. The sun stood passed its zenith. She never slept the morning away. Her head ached. Her body felt heavy and slow. Her thoughts came hazy, incoherent, disjointed. She eased herself out of bed.

If she didn’t know better, she would believe Fendor had never been there. His cloak did not occupy the peg near the door; his pack and bedroll vanished. She lifted the pillow on her bed. His dagger was gone. Her knife lay there where she left it. She knelt down, raised the cot and looked underneath. His sword was gone. She plopped down on the fur covered floor by her bed.

She felt like that time she drank too much mead. Her head ached. She rested it in the palms of her hands. She massaged her temples. She rubbed her forehead.

"Spiced wine." Talking out loud hurt her head. She would make some willow bark tea. That would get rid of her headache.

She busied herself for some minutes, adding wood to the coals, filling her water pot, and crumbling bark into a mug. While she waited for the water to boil, she used her fingers to detangle her hair and braid it in one long dark rope down her back. She tied the end with a wool thread. She dropped a smock over her shift, wrapped a belt around her waist and stuck her knife in it. She tied her shoes to her feet and checked on the water. It bubbled in the pot. She ladled some of the hot liquid into her mug and let the tea steep.

She opened the door to her hut to let in some fresh air. The house felt stuffy and dank after a week of rain. She took her floor coverings outside and laid them over some bushes to air out. She swept the small floor with her twig broom and shook out her pelt blankets. All of this activity made her head pound. She took her mug outside and sat on the boulder by the door. She sipped her tea, straining the bark through her teeth and chewing some to get the strongest effect.

The sun shone bright. It warmed her, cheered her and helped revive her. She felt much better. She tossed the remains of the willow bark off into the woods, went back inside to the well, filled the mug, swished the water around and tossed that outside. She refilled the cup and drank the fresh water. After a second cup, she felt livelier.

She was ready to find out what was going on. Fendor said he was here for the caves. That must be where he had gone. First, check the shed and then off to find which of the caverns he managed to find. Second, make him pay for getting her drunk.

001 - 005 - The Storm Ends

2006-01-21T20:37:00.000-05:00

Elyria rose from her wooden stool and pulled her dagger from her belt at the same time. She pointed her knife at Fendor, who stood up, also. His blade remained in its sheath in his belt. Fendor turned his hands palms up and held them away from his body in a gesture of non-violence.

Elyria stepped back from him two paces, her breathing heavy, fear settling in her chest. She gripped the leather-wrapped hilt of her knife hard causing her fingers to turn white. She did not speak. She looked from Fendor to the door, gauging her ability to get out before he could catch her.

Fendor did not move.

"Let me explain." He gestured to Elyria to calm down. He leaned towards her. She tensed her body even more.

"I will remove my knife and place it on the floor." He held one arm away from his body and moved the thumb and forefinger of his left hand together, moving his hand inch by inch to the hilt of the dagger. He pinched the end of the hilt and lifted it from his belt. Yellow and red fire lights danced along its edge. He tossed it off to the side behind Elyria and away from the door. The rabbit in a trap feeling left her, but she remained wary.

"Can we talk now?" Fendor’s eyes looked into hers and held her gaze. He did not blink.

She nodded her head. Her black hair curled around her face, tiny wisps of new hair in gentle ringlets. She reached up, grabbed the thick mass, twisted it and pulled it over her shoulder. She continued to twist her hair in her hand as she waited.

"Come back and sit down." He waved to the stool.

"No. You sit down." She moved her chair away from him and gestured for him to sit. "Be quick with your story. I’m on edge."

"Yes, of course. I should not have startled you so. I misspoke before."

Fendor took a deep breath and let it out in a steady stream.

"I do not know you. You do not know me. I meant to say I came looking for this place." He paused and looked into the fire, once again gazing into its depths. He remained quiet so long, that Elyria sat down, waiting for him to continue. She did not move any closer to the warmth of the fire.

She held her weapon in front of her, just in case he pulled a sudden move. She waited.

There came a noise of scratching at the door, startling the quiet. Fendor looked around as if he just woke up. Elyria went to the door, opened it and in bounded One and Two. They sniffed around Elyria’s feet and Fendor’s breeches, then simultaneously ran over to the bunk, jumped in, curled around each other and fell asleep. Elyria and Fendor looked at each other and laughed. The spell of fear broke.

Fendor got up, moved his seat away from the fire and put Elyria’s stool closer to the warmth. He gestured to the stool and performed a deep bow.

"Come sit down and be easy." He waited until she sat before he continued. The shadows grew in the corners of the room as dusk settled outside around them. The fire crackled in the hearth, with an occasional pop as sap exploded in a log.

"I traveled a long distance to get here," he began. "Not from my birth home (which I may tell you about another time) but from the place I have called home these past four years, Alexandria. Do you know this place?"

Elyria shook her head, "No, I do not."

"It is on the Africanus continent."

"Of that exotic place I have heard."

"Alexandria is a great city on the northwestern coast, by the Nile River. The city’s great harbor on the Mediterranean Sea shelters vessels and merchants from such far away places as Britannia in the Northern Seas and the Mongolian wilderness in the distant east. People from many nations come to Alexandria. The library at the Serapeum temple houses knowledge from many ages past and any citizen may use it."

Elyria listened, fascinated. She leaned her elbows on her knees, gazing into the flames, picturing wild men in colorful dress, strange animals and odd smells.

"Many new thoughts and ideas breathed their first breaths there. Many religions coexist in peace and harmony. The body, mind and spirit are spiced with the herbs of many people. At least, not long ago, this was true. Now, things are changing." He sounded sad and disappointed.

He stiffened as he spoke. His displeasure in his thoughts showed in the rigidity of his limbs.

"Why? How do such wonders change?" Elyria turned to Fendor. She couldn’t imagine these great things he spoke of disappearing. Once obtained, wouldn’t people cling to the knowledge they gained and never let it go?

"Men of power become obsessed with their own self worth."

"I do not understand."

"Men of power exist that wish to have all of the power and knowledge for themselves. They think themselves gods here on earth, destined to rule men’s hearts."

"You still befuddle me. Tell me plainly what you mean."

"A new religion born from the old Hebrew beliefs is spreading amongst people everywhere. It requires that its believers worship only their one God."

"Many people worship one God. What makes this new religion different?"

"These people may not pay homage to the Emperors. Their God comes first and last." Fendor stood and paced across the room. One and Two raised their heads. He ruffled both of their mussels, scratching behind their ears. He sat beside them and they rested their chins one on each of his thighs. He continued to stroke their heads.

The shadows danced around the three figures across from the fire. Light and dark ran around them, hiding in and out of the hills and depressions that their bodies formed. The effect was hypnotic and Elyria swayed in her seat. Two humpfed in his throat and One yipped in reply.

Elyria shook her head, reawakening herself to the subject at hand.

"How does this have anything to do with this place here? These mountains harbor ancient Gods, alive in the depths of the earth."

"I need a hiding place for some very special people." Fendor’s voice slid between the varying shades of light, quiet and sincere, urgency around the edges. “I heard tales of deep caverns.”

"Saltmines."

The fire glowed in embers. Elyria placed more logs on the coals, each leaning against the other forming a pyramid of wood. The bark caught fire and flamed up, lighting the hut momentarily in a bright halo.

"I found maps."

"Not about here?"

"Yes, in the temple library."

"That can not be," she said. "The knowledge of these salt and ice caverns pass from generation to generation through our village elders and shamans. Only people from our clans would know this information."

"These maps were written by a one time hermit who spent ten years living in the caves." Fendor patted the dogs’ heads and got up. He stretched, his fingers touching the ceiling. "The caves were said to be above a town perched on a hillside at the base of alpine mountains and on the very edge of a deep and isolated lake."

He leaned up against the wall and yawned deeply.

"That could be many places." Elyria yawned, too.

"No. I searched the records. Only this place matches the hermit’s description."

"Tales. Stories. Fireside entertainment."

"Are you telling me no hermit lived here?"

"No hermit has lived in this hut."

Fendor slumped, dejected, against the stones behind his back. His body could no longer support his mind. He needed rest. He spent more than a full moon’s cycle out in the open on his journey here.

"We will talk about this again at first light." He pushed himself upright and went to the door.

"I will check on my beasts and get my bedroll and more wood. Prepare yourself for sleep."

"You are not planning on sleeping in here?" She stood, remembering the knife in her hand. "It quit raining."

"I have had enough of the stars for the time being." He looked back at Elyria. "You can not still think I will hurt you?"

She shrugged her shoulders, unsure.

"I have done nothing against you. You have both of my weapons." He pointed at his sword propped up in the far corner and his dagger still lying on the hard packed earthen floor. He walked out of the cabin.

Elyria picked up his knife and put it under her pillow. She dragged his sword from its resting place and forced it under her bed. She admitted to herself that she too seemed to be beyond exhaustion. She went out to the privy, marveling at the change in the weather. Cool, refreshing breezes blew through the leaves, knocking drops of water down to the ground. No clouds floated in the sky. The stars stood out, clear and bright. Tomorrow would be a new spring day.

On her way back, Elyria heard Fendor talking to his animals. His voice echoed low and reassuring. She couldn’t hear the words he spoke, but the sound soothed her. She listened for a few minutes, until she heard him rummaging through his packs. Then, she went back into her home.

She climbed into her bed, the pups rearranging themselves around her feet. She sat waiting for Fendor to return.

He came back presently with his bedroll over his shoulder and an armful of wood. He also had a drink bladder swinging from the crook of his elbow. He added the logs to the woodpile. After spreading out his bedding, he came over to Elyria and offered her the flask.

"Spiced wine." He held the sac out to her, but she did not take it.

"I do not care for any." Elyria lowered herself to one elbow.

"It will help you sleep and take away hunger." Fendor unstopped the flask and took a long pull. He offered Elyria the drink again. She took it this time and took a small sip. She tasted the spices, their unusual flavor sweet and appealing. She drank again, a longer swallow. The wine tasted of fruits unknown to her and she took another drink.

Fendor took the bottle back.

"Not too much the first time. It's potency is deceiving." He went over to his pallet, spread it out in front of the trunk and sat on the bedding. He pulled his boots off and tossed them away. He took more of the wine. He put the cork back in the flask and lay down, the flask still in his hand.

In a few seconds, Elyria heard his snores. She remembered no more.

001 - 004 - Weathering the Storm

2006-01-15T20:52:00.000-05:00

Fendor’s stomach rumbled over the sound of the rain. He messaged his belly through his tunic with both hands. His hands stretched tendons strong and tight, the knuckles large and the backs wide and heavily scarred. Elyria wondered at the size of those hands and what they engaged in to receive such damage. She looked up to find Fendor’s eyes on her. The wind blew a gust through the crack between the oilcloth on the window and its frame. Elyria shivered.

"I am a little hungry." Fendor grinned. The firelight reflected red dancing flames in his blue eyes.

The hut seemed smaller now with the heat and the light and Fendor’s pack and cloak taking up space in her small home. Elyria noticed Fendor’s sword hanging from his waist. The point almost touched the ground, its length seeming greater than most.

"Yes, I think you must be." Elyria lifted the lid to the pot hanging on its swivel hook by the fire. "I don’t have much here. I have some porridge that can be heated." She swung the arm over the flames, the cast iron pot inhaling the heat.

"That would be a start. I haven’t eaten in two days." He let out a deep sigh. "I ran out of jerky and I had to give my oat cakes to the horses."

"Remove your sword and place it in that corner." She pointed to the spot farthest from the door.

"If I can get something in me, I will go out and get some fresh meat." Fendor untied his sword belt and unwound it from his waist. He pulled up a stool, sat and placed his sword on the floor beside him. The dogs raised their heads at the clank of the metal laid near them.

"Fresh meat would be a treat. We’ll need more wood to keep the fire going to cook meat, though." She went to take his cloak from the hook. "While you are still wet, you should go out and get more." She brought his cloak to him and waited for him to rise and take it. He chuckled and shook his head, slightly. He got up, took the heavy wool garment, placed it over his head and shoulders and started to the door. One and Two rose and joined him.

"I have some dried currents I can add to the porridge, to fortify and refresh you."

"You are too good." Fendor mumbled as he left, the pups trailing after him.

Elyria tried to pick up Fendor’s sword. It weighed more than she could manage. She lifted it by the hilt and dragged it to the back corner and rested it there against the wall. She didn’t feel any more secure but at least the weapon would be harder to get. She would have put it under her oaken chest, but felt that might be too provoking.

That done, she found the pouch marked with her symbol for currents, five red circles. She opened the bag and grabbed a handful of the dried berries and tossed them in the gruel. After she hung the sack back on its peg, she scooped a cup of water from the water bucket and added that to the porridge to loosen it. She stirred the mixture and covered the pot back up. She heard Fendor at the door and opened it for him.

He had shed his cloak, as the rain had ceased its incessant downpour. He came in with a full load of wood and stacked it on the pile of the first logs he brought in. He turned from his work and saw his sword in the place she had first wanted it. Without comment, he went back out.

Gray clouds still filled the sky. The wind blew in little gusts, chasing them along their way. Fendor came back with his cape draped over his arm. He lost the thong that held his hair bound in a braid and strands whipped around his face. One and Two were not with him. They must be off running their pent up energy out of their veins.

"The storm looks to be passed us now," said Elyria. She pointed in the direction the clouds fled. "You can move on to your destination once you’ve eaten." She could hear the eagerness in her own voice. Although she was honor bound to provide for guests to the shrine, Fendor was a mere traveler passing by.

"My horses still need to rest. An hour does not suffice." He entered and closed the door. After hanging his cloak, he turned back to her. "Besides, I promised you fresh meat and I mean to deliver it. I must repay your hospitality to me and my beasts." He grinned at her again. She thought he grinned too often. It made her uneasy.

"Repayment is not necessary, Sir. My deeds were small. Duty says I offer help when the need arises. You owe nothing."

"Let us eat our porridge. It smells like the bottom portion burns." He took wooden bowls and spoons down from one of the shelves. He put the pot lid aside and ladled the porridge in the dishes. He handed one to Elyria and gestured for her to sit. "Later we can discuss indebtedness."

That sounded ominous to Elyria’s mind. She sat on the second stool and ate her meal. She determined to herself to send Fendor on his way as soon as may be. He sat on the other stool and ate from his bowl. He finished rather quickly, due no doubt to ravenous hunger. He took another portion and ate that more slowly.

As they sat in semi-companionable silence, Elyria thought she might bring up Fendor’s leaving again. She debated several tacks she might successfully use. One idea seemed to present itself as the most reasonable course of convincing him that he should go.

"Such a severe frown you display."

Elyria jumped.

"What thoughts hide behind your countenance?"

"I consider the worry your people must be feeling that you are delayed. It would be a kindness for you to relieve them of their grief." She tried to fill her words with as much sincerity and urgency as she could muster.

"There are no people waiting for me." He took her bowl from her and set it aside with his. He gazed into the flames.

"Oh, no? You must have business somewhere, although I still do not understand how you come to be in my out-of-the-way place." She looked at his profile, his large, straight nose and hairless cheeks and chin, trying to figure out the puzzle.

"You are not out of the way. You are exactly where you should be." He spoke into the fire, his voice far away.

"You confound me. What do you mean?"

He turned to face her and looked directly into her blue eyes. "You are my destination."

001 - 003 - Coming In From the Storm

2006-01-11T21:23:00.000-05:00

"I have a sword." Elyria yelled over all of the noise. She knocked the hilt on the door jam for effect. One and Two jumped at the door, their nails leaving grooves in the wood.

"So do I." The stranger pounded on his side of the door with his sword. "Open up and we can compare. I bet mine is bigger than yours."

Elyria could have sworn she heard him chuckle. "Go away or I will loose the dogs on you."

"I don’t want to hurt your dogs." He rattled the door. He pushed on it. The planks groaned against the log thrown across them to keep the door bolted. "Just tie them up and let me in."

"Go away. You have no business here." The barking of the cubs caused Elyria’s head to ache. She motioned for them to sit and be quiet. They stopped but sat alert and on guard, ready to spring at her signal.

"Thank the gods those dogs have stopped. My head aches." It sounded like he was talking into the crack between the door and the jam. "If I stay out here any longer, I will have to grow gills to breathe. Take pity on a drowning man."

"There’s a shed over to your right hand. Go there."

"Can’t, no room."

"There’s plenty of room for you."

"All three of my horses are in there, packed side to side."

"Put them out."

"No."

Elyria groaned in frustration. At this point, her fear left her and she stomped her foot in irritation. "Just go away."

"Can’t. My horses are exhausted."

"Oh, this is just ridiculous." She paced around in little circles, twisting a strand of her hair between her fingers, like spinning wool. She hadn’t bother braiding it today, so it hung loose around her shoulders.

"I agree." His voice came from over by the small window to the right of the door. She saw four fingers wiggling at her from under the bottom edge of the covering.

"I don’t want to let you in." She heard the whine in her voice and cringed.

"You state the obvious." He definitely chuckled this time.

"You try to gain my favor by insulting me? Not a very good strategy." She considered giving in. The Law of Hospitality did demand that she offer shelter to strangers in need. If she kept her distance, with her sword between them and the dogs on guard, she should be safe. He obviously did not intend to leave and the rain continued.

"I enjoy bantering with you, but I have no more energy and I need a fire and hot food." Exhaustion tinged his voice.

"I have no fire. I used all of the wood."

"Poor planning on your part."

"Such sweet words." She smiled. "I used all of the wood in here."

"Do you have wood somewhere out here?"

"Under the awning out back to your left."

"I’ll go get some. Unbolt the door."

Elyria lifted the bar from its brackets and waited until she heard the man return. One and Two jumped up on the cot at Elyria’s signal. The man bumped into the door. She pulled it open and screamed. She jumped back as an avalanche of logs fell into the room. The cubs whimpered. The black flapping beast that entered her cabin shed its skin to reveal a huge, blonde, mustached man.

"Why did you scream for the gods’ sake?"

"You’d scream too if a big, black, monster came in your house."

"I covered the wood and myself with my cloak to keep us dry." He bent and began picking up the logs.

"Well, yes, I can see that now. You just startled me."

The man shook his head. Long, wet hair dripped water down his back. "Pick up some of this wood. Let’s get a fire going. The temperature in here matches that of the outside." He carried the wood across the room to the open, corner hearth and dropped it in a pile. He turned back to the room and looked around. The door stood open and water ran in. His cloak lay on the floor in a heap just inside the door.

"How do you manage on your own?"

"What?"

He pointed around the room.

"You created that mess." Elyria pushed the door closed and began to put the bar back in place, then changed her mind. She heard a chuckle behind her and ignored it. She lifted the cloak from the floor. Water ran down its folds as she hung it on a peg on the wall to the left of the door. She heard the man moving the wood behind her.

When she turned around, the man stood by the bed, petting her dogs and smiling. "I like dogs."

"That’s One and Two. They’re wolf cubs. Very deadly, as you can see."

"Clever names. How long did you have to think before coming up with them?"

Elyria ignored him. She pulled her flints and tinder from a pouch she kept on a shelf by the fire pit. She knelt down and began striking the flints against the wool she stuffed between the neatly stacked logs. The wad caught fire quickly. The aged wood began to burn, lighting up the cabin and dispelling the damp and cold. She stood, slapped her hand on her thigh to call the dogs over and they enjoyed the first warmth they’d had in two days.

The man walked over and joined them. Steam rose from his wet clothes. They all stood together for a long while in silence. One and Two curled up on the hearth and fell asleep. Two began to snore and Elyria giggled. She looked at the man out of the corner of her eyes. He watched her. She felt heat rise into her cheeks.

"What are you called?"

"Elyria. And you? What do they call you?"

"They call me many things." He grinned. "My name is Fendor." Fendor’s stomach gurgled.

001 - 002 - The Storm Continues

2006-01-09T22:47:00.000-05:00

Elyria rolled over on her back after dislodging her feet and ankles from the weight of her pups. One and Two rose, stretched and settled in again. They howled little yawns that startled themselves. They moved closer to each other, enclosing Elyria’s legs between them.

Elyria felt the walls of her hut closing in on her. She wanted to get out and move around in the woods. She needed to collect the early spring roots before they began to flower. The tender savory onion and fennel bulbs would wake up tastes that had been asleep during the winter months. Many delicate greens would begin sprouting soon and they would add zest to the last of the dried winter meats and the turnips left in stone cellars. A collection of dandelion heads and their tender young leaves taken down to town would get her some of the home crafts that the village folk made while snow blanketed the mountains and salt mining came to a halt. Her wishes included Mother Strobl’s soft wool yarn, an oak bowl from Max Carver, a chemise sewn by Brigitte and if she managed to find early mushrooms, she might get a goat from Hans Herdsman. Fresh milk to drink filled her mind and Elyria drifted off to sleep.

Loud banging and One and Two’s barks jolted Elyria out of a pleasant dream of sun bouncing off of the lake. The cubs stood in front of the hut’s door, the hair on their muzzles standing up, their growls competing with the banging on the door. Elyria jumped out of her bed and grabbed the short sword she kept by her at all times. She inched up to the pups, trying not to startle them from behind. They continued to growl, their ears twitching back and forth picking up the varied sounds. The pounding went on as Elyria sorted out other noises coming from the other side of the barricaded oaken door, not worrying that any damage would be done to it. Made of planks the thickness of a man’s neck, the hinges were not the usual leather but of special iron construction. She moved in closer and heard horses whinnying through the rain. It sounded like three horses although it was hard to be sure through the pounding, yelling and storm. One of the horses beat the ground with its hooves creating great vibrations along the floor of Elyria’s home.

She only heard the one man bellowing on the other side of the door. Other men could be holding the horses. Elyria tried to imagine why they might be outside her house in a raging storm. She untacked a corner of the oiled pig skin covering the window to the right of the door and peeked out.

She caught a glimpse of a dark cloak flapping in the wind and rain. The water poured down from the sky and whipped around in changing angles. She saw the reins of the horses all meeting together and ending somewhere in the folds of the cloak. One of the horses pulled at its handler and bucked, attempting to rear. It thrashed its head and Elyria saw its wild and angry eyes in the flashes of lightening that ripped across the dark sky.

The pounding stopped. Elyria saw the reins pulled off to the left and the horses followed. She heard nothing but the rain. As the minutes passed, the thunder moved off, the time between the lightening and the thunder growing longer and longer. She pulled the tarp closed on the window and breathed a deep sigh. She relaxed her shoulders and sat down on the floor, leaning against the stone wall. The man had moved off. She did not recognize any of the horses, so it couldn’t be anyone from the village with a sickness need. So how did this person come across her hut? It didn’t lie on any normal path. She tried to puzzle it out but no good answer came to her.

Some little time passed and the storm lessened. Elyria lit an oil lamp. She prepared some dried meat for One and Two’s evening meal. Her porridge, cold from the lack of a fire, filled her belly. She drew water from the natural well in the back corner of her hut. She filled a bowl for the puppies and a cup for herself. She pulled out her spinning, not needing much light from many years of practice. The spindle moved between her fingers, up and down, lulling her into a peaceful state. The wolves curled quietly at her feet. They snored gently and she smiled to herself. The rain pattered on the roof. Elyria rolled up her wool. She dropped the spindle on One’s head as the banging started again. This time she heard the man bellowing through the door and over the hysterical howling of the dogs.

"I heard you moving around. I see the light through the cracks." He pounded on the door with both fists. "I demand you open up, in the name of the gods."

001 - 001 - The Storm Is Brewing

2006-01-08T22:31:00.000-05:00

The rain beat down on the slate roof above Elyria's head. Elyria buried herself further down into the sheep pelts covering her bed. The fire died out several thunder claps ago. The rain poured for three days straight and she burned all of the wood in her hut.

She would stay abed until the storm passed. Each lightening flash made her jump. Her wolf cubs whimpered at her feet and covered their ears with their paws.

000 - Storytime - Divine Death

2006-01-07T19:34:00.000-05:00

Once upon a time...