A Rainyday Tale
(Inspired by Mahou Sensei Negima by Ken Akamatsu)
Part 1—Frost and a Wishing Star
Her breath rose in a ragged white column against the azure of the firmament. It was cold, very cold, and the fog that had hung like a pall for days had manifested upon tree branches and trunks in an icy embrace. The surreal crystals, coating the trees reflected a thousand stars like dancing faerie lights. Overhead, the full moon of Advent played across her bare skin as the freezing air pierced her breast with countless burning lances. At least the burning in her chest was slowly subsiding as she stumbled against her fatigue. She had run from the house, immodestly into the night, as the lord screamed and called for his knights. She had hated the lord, his cruelty and, according to some of the other women, his rumoured appetites.
The house was the only place she had lived and, orphaned early, her mother's friends had raised her at the brothel; the only home she had ever known. Precociously aware, as an orphaned girl in her circumstance would be, she tried not to judge others: unlike the orphan girls who lived at the convent, with their smug displays of chastity, how she hated them for the lies that were their lives. Her childhood had held some joy and a lot of sadness but the women of the house fed and protected her to the best of their abilities and, when she became of age, she joined their ranks to repay the kindness they need not have shown. She was young and attractive and the other women worked her youthfulness to her advantage. True, she had known men—from the shy stable hands to the traveling merchants—but until this evening, had been spared the tender mercies of the lord.
This Advent eve, her luck had run out.
The lord had come unexpected, unheralded and reeking of mead this evening. His mood, as foul as his stench, was feral with hunger and he saw her as he had stumbled through the door. A deep shiver, unrelated to the cold night, racked her body as she remembered the smile on his lips when he had seen her. He was faster and steadier than she would have ever imagined and in a flash, his strong hand had grabbed her by the hair as she tried to retreat.
"Scream wench!" he had bellowed as he caught her.
Silent fear welled up in her eyes as the lord leered at her. With the back of his hand he struck her fiercely and knocked her to the floor. She felt the rough grain on the floor boards scratch through her thin and threadbare blouse as he dragged her towards the service area of the house. He kicked open the first door he came upon and hauled her in.
"Out!" he roared at the two engaged in the trade, within.
Fearful, the two fled from the room and left her alone with the lord. He pulled her to her feet by her hair and, after drawing his dagger, cut away her meagre clothing. Looking like Lucifer incarnate his licentious eyes reflected the candles' flames as if they where windows to the fires of Hell itself.
"So young, so pretty, so clean," he whispered as he licked his lips, "I will take that and more from you this night, wench."
"No . . . Don't think about it, don't remember," she scolded herself, "now is not the time for remorse now is the time to escape."
She shivered again from the cold of the night and the fear in her heart. She forced the memory of the lord—placing his dagger against her throat and pushing her back to her knees—and continued to run. She remembered cursing The Trinity and the devil, there and then, as the lord used her.
"no . . ." she remembered whispering as he came at her, "I can't . . . I won't . . . let you. It's . . . it's wrong, evil!"
She remembered the great surge of strength welling unexpectedly inside her: strength enough to fight. She mustered her courage and knew only one thing was possible. Regardless of its cost, she was resolute and prepared and, as the lord continued to brutally use and gag her, she bit down as hard as she could. With an anguished cry the lord's body stiffened and jerked with shock as he pulled away from her. In the spasm of his motion his dagger drew a deep gash across her right eye. Blinded by pain and the blood flowing into her eye she dodged the lord's flailing arms and fled the house. She could taste his bitter blood as she ran and tried to spit. The taste remained to remind her that her life, too, would soon be over.
"At least . . ." an odd sense vengeful justice and humour whispered from deep inside her, "as a eunuch, should he survive, the lord's seed would never pollute future generations."
Her feet, burning from the cold ground as she ran, led her to a gap in the trees by the side of the road. Diving into the dark forest, she continued running until her breath and strength failed her. Fervently hoping that she was out of sight she looked back towards the road—she couldn't see it. Falling to her knees once more, her one good eye stared at a bright star that twinkled low upon the horizon. A dreadful sense of reality washed through her soul as she briefly closed her eyes. Hugging herself for a sense of companionship, as much as for warmth, she rocked on her knees and sobbed. Other than her, no sound echoed from the forest's calm.
How long she had knelt there, she did not know but she knew it had been a while: she no longer felt the bitter biting cold in her flesh. A rustle from the forest before her suddenly roused her. Her right eye, sealed tight by blood, would not open but her left dimly made out motion before her. Through the haze, she saw the figure of a woman with long hair walking towards her.
"Who . . ?" she asked weakly.
"Be calm my child," the voice melodically said, "I'll take the pain away."
"Mother?" she said as the figure knelt before her.
Warm arms embraced her bare body and she felt some strength return. Pulled into a loving hug she rested her head on the shoulder of the woman who held her. She began to cry.
"There, there," the soothing voice cooed, "you have been through much and your journey can end, now."
She felt the soft lips of the woman kiss her neck as she looked to the horizon. In the distance, the star twinkled in the darkness and the town's church bell tolled across the forest. Advent, she thought as the bell chimed, a time of renewal and expectation—the promise of salvation: she could almost laugh. Then, a sudden slashing pain in her neck ripped through her body and sucked whatever strength she felt, coldly from her body. The fleeting images of her life fading before her, she paid for her transgressions in life.
"Mother, did I . . . did I do right?" her weak voice whispered as her body went limp.
