A/N: Guess who got a computer for Christmas! Oh yeah! (victory jig) Now that my existing chapters are all nice and shiny and polished up, I can continue writing after my long hiatus. Question for you more experienced fan fiction-ers, how can I get extra spacing or asterisks in my story? When I try to edit them in by exporting previous chapters it doesn't take. Which makes switching viewpoints or jumping forward in time very confusing, as I'm sure you've noticed. Help would be much appreciated.
My chapters from here on out are going to be a little (or a lot) longer. I've geographically mapped out the journey from Neo Venice to my made-up land mark Zeus' Pyre- It's north of Bardoneccia, close to France's border in NW Italy.
Love is too young to know what conscience is.
~ William Shakespeare.
Chapter 9 – Leeches, Wolves, and Witches
Bassanio's head jerked up. Pain shot down his side and reverberated through his whole body. He had been dozing off in his saddle again, which seemed to be happening a lot in the past week. They had not been making as much progress as they had hoped, and their time was almost up. Just as Salanio had feared, the gypsies had returned only two nights after their first attack. One of the men in their band had overheard Bassanio's confession to their former leader just before Nerissa had killed him. Bassanio had told him that they were on a rescue mission, and the gypsies had correctly assumed that meant that the rescuers had ransom money.
Only four of Antonio's guards had remained with them, and together the six of them were hard pressed to keep the ten gypsies who attacked them at bay. Luckily Nerissa was twice as deadly in the dark where her enemies could not see her. This time they made sure not to leave any survivors to report their whereabouts back to the gypsy leader. They lost a horse and three of the guards in the brawl. Nerissa had received deep cut on her inner thigh that luckily missed her femoral artery. Bassanio had been dealt a blow to the chest that had broken at least one rib. They were both in agony, but neither would allow themselves to rest until Portia was safe.
They continued forth, but made slow time because of their injuries and because they were forced to put both of the caskets of gold on their strongest horse. They couldn't ride too fast or the horse would die of exhaustion. When Nerissa's wound began to fester they had to make a detour to a farming village for medicine, which cost them a day.
Bassanio hadn't slept in two days. He kept his ribs tightly wrapped, but laying on the ground to sleep was extremely painful. He had lost count of how many days until their deadline, but Nerissa had assured him that they had 3 days left. That had been yesterday. Now Balthazar, the only remaining member of Antonio's guard, was scouting ahead to see if he could spot Zeus' Pyre. The Italian Alps were to their right, the hills and forests of France a few days' ride before them. They had to be close.
"Nerissa," Bassanio called back to her without moving his head. When she didn't respond he turned his horse around to face back the way he came. Her horse had wandered off the trail and was happily munching grass. Nerissa was slumped over in her saddle, limp as a rag doll.
"Nerissa!" Bassanio cried out, fear punching through him. He cantered back to her, wincing with the horse's every step) and jumped from the saddle. His legs crumpled beneath him when he landed, crying out when his injured torso hit the ground. The world turned black as his pain consumed him.
He wasn't sure if he came to seconds, minutes, or hours later, but the sun was still high overhead. The horses, an unconscious Nerissa, and the gold were still there, and Balthazar was nowhere to be seen. Groaning, Bassanio slowly pulled himself to his feet and stumbled over to her. As gently as he could, he pulled her from her saddle, her horse whickering in surprise. He half carried, half dragged her to the nearest shady tree and lay her down. The trees were sparse as they drew closer to the mountains' edge, so there was little cover to protect them from danger.
Nerissa's face was flushed and glistening with sweat, and her eyes flicked rapidly back and forth under their lids. Bassanio touched her forehead; she was burning up. Her breath was shallow and fast. She had been on the mend only a few days ago and regaining strength. Why was she suddenly feverish again? He slid off her left boot and rolled up her loose trousers. As he unwrapped the wound, he was hit with the coppery scent of blood. The wound was no longer oozing puss, but the wound was dark red and the veins around it dark and swollen. Some were even turning black.
He recognized it immediately as blood poisoning. His father had gotten it last summer after scraping his arm on a rusted nail; Bassanio remembered that the physician who had treated Marco used leeches to drain the bad blood from around the wound. Marco had recovered quickly after that.
Balthazar had the map to Zeus' Pyre, but mapmaking ran in Bassanio's blood. He had trained himself to be able to glance at a map and be able to instantly memorize small details so that he could reproduce them from memory. He remembered from looking at their map that they weren't far from a small mountain stream. Using all of his admittedly limited strength, he lifted Nerissa back on her horse and led all three horses down to the river. It wasn't an easy task to accomplish with a broken rib.
Once there, he cut away the leg of her trousers, pulled her waist deep in the water, took his dagger, and gently ran the blade along the poisoned wound. Even if there weren't leeches in this river, the water might help drain the bad blood from her leg. Nerissa moaned quietly as red blood seeped into the water and swirled away with the gentle current. All Bassanio could do no was wait and try to keep her warm. He grabbed a blanket, wrapped it around her upper body, and lifted her torso so he could position her on his lap. He cradled her head and stared miserably down at his shivering future sister in law.
Excellent work, Bassanio. In trying to rescue Portia you may very well end up killing her twin sister. That's a fine wedding present.
More than ever he wished Antonio were there. Antonio would have placed a big, strong hand on his shoulder and reminded him that he wasn't the one who cut Nerissa, that she was a strong woman and that he was doing all he could for her, and that he was doing his best to save the woman he loved. Then he would give Bassanio one of his small smiles and he would know that his best friend would always have his back.
Bassanio didn't realize that he had dozed off until he was startled awake by the sound of an approaching rider. The sun was a lot closer to the horizon than it had been- dusk was maybe an hour away. He was flat on his back with Nerissa still in his lap. He sat up, cursing himself for not being more vigilant.
Three horses, two caskets of gold, one half of a set of twins, all present and accounted for… Thank God.
He grabbed his rapier and turned his head to make her that it was Balthazar who was returning, and it was. Immense relief and anxiety struggled within him; had Balthazar found the Pyre? Was it close? Would they make it?
"I thought you two were on my tail," Balthazar called out reproachfully as he galloped up to them.
"Nerissa got worse," Bassanio replied as Balthazar dismounted and walked over. Bassanio turned his attention to the girl in his arms. Her face was cool and dry now, and her breathing had returned to normal. Four fat leeches were suckered to the skin around Nerissa's wound. "Help me pull her out."
Balthazar, who was used to taking orders from younger men, didn't hesitate to dip his head and help ease Nerissa off Bassanio and onto the dry, grassy bank. He carefully cut the leeches away from her; the circular bite marks left in their wake drizzled blood down her leg. They dried her off, spread the healing salve given to them by the village physician over her wound, and bandaged it in clean linen. When they were finished, Bassanio felt good. Perhaps it was they sleep or knowing that his quick thinking may have saved Nerissa, but for the moment he felt at peace.
As he and Balthazar built a campfire and spitted the grouse he had killed while he was ranging, Balthazar told Bassanio what he had seen. "The Pyre is maybe a days' ride from here."
"Our deadline is tomorrow at sundown," Bassanio fretted. "I wish we could ride through the night, but I don't see that being an option for us." He glanced at Nerissa, who had not yet awakened.
"We may have to leave her behind," Balthazar said solemnly.
"No," Bassanio protested vehemently. "She has fought bravely to protect us and to rescue her sister! Leaving her behind would be dishonorable and dangerous!"
"And it may be your only option." The men turned to see Nerissa pushing herself into a sitting position.
"Easy, now," Bassanio murmured, moving to help her and grimacing as his broken ribs throbbed.
"I apologize, my lady," Balthazar said gravely. "In your state, I fear…" He looked away, shamefaced.
"You fear I'll slow you down and you won't reach Portia in time," Nerissa said coolly. "I would never risk the life of my sister so that mine would be spared. If it comes to that, I will gladly let you two ride ahead. Ransoming Portia has always been our priority and that cannot change, especially now that we are so close."
"How are you feeling?" Bassanio asked her.
"Dizzy," she sighed, "thirsty and hungry, but better. What happened?"
"Your fever returned," Bassanio said, "but I got it back down. I leeched you, which is probably why you're dizzy."
Nerissa frowned. "You leeched me with… what, exactly?"
"…leeches?"
"That's disgusting!" Nerissa shuddered.
"What would you have had me leech you with then?" Bassanio protested.
"Your mouth," Nerissa deadpanned, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. She rolled her eyes and took a skein of water and a leg of the grouse passed to her by Balthazar and began to eat and drink heartily. Bassanio had a feeling that she would be just fine.
They rode through the night and day, eating and sleeping in the saddle. The trees thinned and gave way to tough grass; they were almost at the foot of the Alps. Before the mountains lay a field of jagged rock formations. Some stood in tall towers, others in spiky piles like the shell f some monstrous turtle, and in some cases small shards of stone lay scattered about. It was believed that the rocks in the field had once been a part of the mountain before a volcanic eruption had spewed them all over the countryside. The mountain winds had hewn the rocks into unnatural shapes, which only added to the mystical air that surrounded Zeus' Pyre, which stood in the center of the field. Three equally tall and equally misshapen rock towers that narrowed and leaned together at the top. The tips of the spires were sooty
and blackened from being struck by lightning. Followers of the Old Order used to make pilgrimage to the site to offer sacrifices of livestock, harvest, and sometimes people to the god Zeus. When Emperor Constantine made Christianity a safe religion and, eventually, the only proper religion in Italy, the Old Order eventually died out and Zeus' Pyre became a tourist site.
Now the three of them stood upon the last grassy knoll before the rock field, looking down upon the Pyre. "We're at an advantage from this height," Nerissa said, casting a critical eye around the rock field. She was still a little unsteady on her feet- Bassanio suspected that her condition was worse than she let show, but she refused to rest until Portia was safe. Every inch of Bassanio's body ached with exhaustion but he felt hyper-alert and a little jumpy.
"The enemy can't see us from this ledge," she continued, "but we are more likely to see them. Balthazar, can you see anything out of the ordinary?"
Balthazar hooded his eyes against the light of the sun, which was starting to inch toward the western horizon. "I don't see any signs of human activity."
"This feels like a trap," Bassanio fretted. "There are no human settlements for leagues, and those caves are rumored to be filled with gas from the mountain that can disorient or even kill a person that breathes it for too long. Why would someone kidnap Portia and take her all the way out here to the middle of nowhere to collect a ransom?"
Nerissa nodded and frowned. "I agree, something is not right about all of this. Perhaps her kidnapper is some delusional follower of the Old Order and this is some kind of twisted… ritual to please Zeus? Or, and this is almost as outlandish… We could be dealing with a witch or warlock."
"Are you feeling feverish again?" Balthazar asked suspiciously.
Nerissa turned on him, her eyes snapping green fire. "I am perfectly sound of mind, thank you very much. If we are dealing with a magic-user, it would explain many things! The beast that attacked my sister's carriage and slaughtered the coachmen and horses… How could it have left absolutely no discernable trail? Did it have teeth, claws, and wings? I only jested that a dragon taught me how to fight; I am very aware that no such creatures exist! And how did the kidnapper beat us here but also left no trail to follow? Where in these parts would a kidnapper hide a young woman-"
"It doesn't matter!" Bassanio shouted. His patience had been worn thin by pain, stress, and lack of sleep or sufficient food. "We have the ransom money and the location. Perhaps these questions will be answered when we rescue Portia."
"Yes," Nerissa sighed. "We'll just… proceed with caution I suppose."
And proceed with caution they did, down the steep slope from their embankment and into the field of volcanic debris. They had to lead the horses so as to avoid laming any of them on the sharp, haphazardly scattered stones. The field was completely silent except for the low moaning of the wind as if weaving over and around the rocks. The horses would randomly shy away from seemingly empty air, and occasionally try to bolt. No one spoke; the silence had an almost sinister weight to it. Any attempt to shatter it would have consequences.
Ahead, a few rocks clattered against one another. Nerissa silently drew her sword. Balthazar followed suit, but Bassanio was leading his own horse and the horse carrying the ransom so his sword stayed in its scabbard. Suddenly, Nerissa's horse screamed and reared. Nerissa kept the reigns firmly in hand and tried to calm the frightened beast with low, soothing words.
Balthazar glanced up and shouted, "Wolf!"
"Wolf" was only a partly accurate description. The creature perched on top of a rock pile only a few yards ahead of them was indeed shaped like a wolf, but it was larger than the largest draft horse and seemed to be made entirely of stone. Its joints grated against each other with a sound like gravel underfoot, and glowing red eyes peered out from under a pronounced stone brow. It leaped to the ground, making the horses panic and bolt. Balthazar dropped his horse's reigns to brandish his sword with both hands. Nerissa followed suit.
"Bassanio, let your horse go!" she called.
"But we need them for the ride back!" he cried. But he couldn't hold two rearing horses, so he let his go and kept a firm hand on the reigns of the horse carrying the ransom. He tried to remember how to calm down a frightened horse… He remembered a time he and Antonio had gone riding when they were younger, before Bassanio had met Portia. Bassanio's horse had almost stepped on a snake and spooked, screaming and rearing. Antonio had leapt from his horse, killed and threw away the snake, and grabbed Bassanio's reigns. He began to lead the horse in a figure 8 circle, speaking softly to the horse until it had calmed down. They must have been nine or ten at the time, but Antonio handled himself like an adult. H always had in tricky situations, ever since they were little.
But until the wolf was out of the way, there would be no calming the horse. Bassanio could only hang on and try not to get kicked. The wolf snarled at Balthazar and Nerissa, pulling back stone lips to reveal sharp stone teeth. Balthazar attacked first, Nerissa right after him, but their swords only slid off the wolf's stone flanks with a shower of sparks. It knocked Nerissa to the side with its head; she skidded across the ground until she came to an abrupt halt against a stone pillar.
The wolf turned to Balthazar and lunged, its jaws wide. Balthazar's sword shattered against the creature's teeth as they closed around his torso. The wolf closed its jaws with a sickening crunch. Blood gushed from under the teeth and dripped to the ground, staining Balthazar's plain brown jacket a deep red. Balthazar coughed blood once and went limp in the creature's jaws. Bassanio wanted to scream, but all that came out of his throat was a dry rasp. He fell to his knees and vomited, clutching the reigns in on trembling, sweaty hand.
The wolf let Balthazar's body drop to the floor with a dull thud. Bassanio met the man's blank brown eyes. His mouth tasted of bile, his ears rang, and his head swam. It was happening too fast. A creature made of stone wasn't even… possible, and yet it leveled its red-eyed gaze at Bassanio, blood dripping from its open jaws. Terror beat a tattoo against Bassanio's ribs. The wolf did not attack again; it began to crumble and collapse into a shapeless mount of stone, covering Balthazar's body. The thing than had killed him became his burial mound.
"Balthazar," Bassanio whispered, too shocked to cry. He knelt there, shaking, but still holding on to his horse, which was beginning to calm down.
"Witchcraft," came a muffled groan to his right. Nerissa was struggling to her feet, her face a mask of pain and rage. Tears cut tracks through the dirt and scrapes on her cheeks.
"But why?" Bassanio mumbled. "Why did it kill him and spare us?" Some of the rocks were stained red…
"Come alone…" Nerissa spat. She threw her head back and screamed at the sky, "You killed him to get us alone, is that it?!"
Zeus' Pyre was just up ahead. She turned toward it and brandished her sword. "He had a wife and two children, you bastard! Show yourself, witch, sorcerer, demon! Coward! Show yourself!"
No answer.
"Bassanio, get up! Bassanio!"
He couldn't tear his gaze away from the bloody rocks. One of Balthazar's hands was still showing through the stones… Nerissa limped over to him and hauled him to his feet. She slapped him, "Bassanio, snap out of it! I need you alert if we are going to get Portia and get out of here safely. Somehow I doubt this… person will let us leave alive with my sister."
He nodded, and together they approached the Pyre. As they drew closer, an old woman in a ratty shawl dragging a heavy iron chain appeared from behind one of the Pyre's blackened columns.
"Who are you?" Nerissa demanded.
"I am the witch Elisa," the old woman croaked.
"Are you the one who kidnapped my sister?"
The witch Elisa pulled her thin, pale lips back over rotting teeth in a grotesque mockery of a smile. Her skin was loose and sallow over her bones and marked with liver spots. A few wiry white hairs poked out from under the hood of her cloak. Her eyes were a rheumy blue; she could obviously see them, but not very well. Her ghastly appearance only confused Bassanio more. Money could buy power, medicine, food, love, and comfort… but what could money get for a witch with the power to bring life to stones that she couldn't get using her powers?
"I am," the witch said in response to Nerissa's question. She gave a rough tug on the chain in her hand and Portia stumbled into view. She was bound hand and foot and gagged, the beautiful dress she had worn to their engagement party now reduced to dirty rags. But she was alive.
"Thank God," Bassanio breathed. Portia's green eyes were wide and scared; she kept shaking her head and screaming through the rag she had been gagged with. Nerissa saw how panicked her sister seemed.
"She's trying to tell us something," Nerissa breathed to him, "be wary."
"Send over the horse with the gold," the witch demanded.
"Not before you send over my sister," Nerissa returned.
"And let you run with the girl and the gold? Do you take me for a fool, you… mannish girl?" the witch sneered.
"We acknowledge that we would not be able to run far from a woman with power like yours," Bassanio interjected before Nerissa could get angry. "We'll meet in the middle." As a show of faith, he started forward with the horse. The witch's lips curled and she walked forward with Portia, who jerked on her chains and shook her head wildly. Fear coiled in Bassanio's belly. What if the witch really did intend to kill them after she got her gold, and Portia knew her plans? What if that was why she was trying to warn them?
They met halfway between the Pyre and where Nerissa stood.
"The reins," the witch demanded, holding out her left hand. A gold signet ring emblazoned with an 'S' flashed on her bony index finger. Bassanio found it odd, but it wasn't the right moment to question the witch's choice in jewelry.
Bassanio held out his right hand. "I will hand you the reins as you hand me the chains. Together."
The witch smiled. "You're a smart one."
"I didn't come here to be praised," Bassanio said coldly. "As if your praise means anything to me. You kidnapped my fiancé and killed a friend of mine. Many others died to get us here and my best friend might still die for your stupid gold! Give me the chain."
Portia screamed through her gag. The witch grasped the reins as Bassanio took hold of Portia's chains. They stared at each other for a long second.
"A deal is a deal," Bassanio murmured.
"I'm a witch of my word," Elisa cackled.
"And you will let us go," Bassanio said, half a question and half a demand. "Once you have your gold, the Belmont girls and I will leave safely."
Elisa dipped her head and let go of Portia's chain. Bassanio let go of the reins and took Portia in his arms. He struggled with her chains while the witch checked the caskets. Nerissa ran forward to help. As soon as they removed Portia's gag, the girl's eyes rolled back in her head and she went limp in Bassanio's arms.
"Portia!" Nerissa cried as her dead weight pulled Bassanio to his knees under her.
"No!" he cried, touching his fiancé's face. He looked back up at the witch, "You promised-!" But Elisa and the caskets were gone. The horse stood alone with its saddle.
Bassanio swore and pulled Portia onto his lap. He placed his hand close to her mouth; her breath grazed his skin, as soft and light as her kisses.
"She's alive," he gasped as Nerissa drew her sword. With a few hard swings of her sword, the length of chain shattered and they were able to unravel the links around her feet and hands. As Nerissa began to rub feeling back in to her sister's limbs, Portia's green eyes flickered open. Bassanio let out a breathy laugh and embraced her.
"Nio…" Portia mumbled. She looked over at her twin; Nerissa's eyes were filling with tears but she gave Portia a shaky smile. "Nessy?"
"I'm here," Nerissa murmured, smoothing her twin's dark, unwashed hair away from her face.
"Where are we?" Portia asked, looking around in alarm. "The mountains… they look so close…"
Bassanio cast a worried glance at Nerissa. "We are at Zeus' Pyre, my love…"
Portia's eyes went wide. "Zeus' Pyre?! Why? How did I get here?!"
"You were kidnapped, don't you remember?"
"The last thing I remember was leaving our engagement party and falling asleep in my carriage… I was kidnapped?" She began to cry. "I don't… I don't remember…"
"The witch," Nerissa spat is disgust ad Bassanio rocked Portia gently. She clutched his shirt and cried into his shoulder, but when she heard the word "witch," she sat up with alarm. "What witch?!"
Nerissa stood with a groan of pain. "We'll have to explain as we ride. We can't camp here tonight."
"We should camp at the river," Bassanio suggested, helping Portia to her feet. "Our horses might have returned there. We'll need to find them or we'll be walking back to Neo Venice."
"Camp?" Portia stammered. "As in… sleeping on the ground?"
Nerissa laughed and entwined her hand with Portia's. "I'm so glad you're safe."
