A bit of a small chapter. More conflicted thoughts for Maryden. Better times will come slowly but surely.
Chapter 06
The three knocks on the heavy-looking hard wooden door were almost ominous. Her stomach had fallen into her shoes the moment they had stepped once again over the threshold of Gilded Vale. Maryden's mind was still mulling over what to say to Aufra about the potion. Everyone had made their own opinions clear.
Edér wanted her to tell Aufra about the fake potion. Aloth believed to not tell Aufra anything, and Durance wished that Maryden gave her the potion, lie about it all. Since that was what the woman wanted. Maryden herself was torn, but before she could make it up the door in front of them opened a bit. A familiar face peeking out the door before opening it fully.
"You're back!" Aufra gasped, hope crossing her face. She stepped aside and gestured to them. "Please come in, come in! I just made some soup, do you want any?"
"Thank you, but I'm not hungry. If any of you want to, go ahead," Maryden said to the rest of her group. Who didn't say no to the offer. Aloth shot her a worried look, that she chose to ignore.
The whole journey to Gilded Vale had been somewhat uncomfortable. Edér had been treading careful around her, speaking to her only when he had to. He became reserved towards her, but had been laughing and pulling Aloth's leg and figuratively prodding Durance all the time as if there had been nothing wrong. It was like he was terrified of her, they all were (except for Durance) of what she might say or see. It made Maryden feel like an outsider, the third wheel and a freak.
'Abomination,' a voice sinisterly whispered in her head.
"So," Aufra began as the men started to indulge themselves. Aloth looking at Edér and Durance with disgust as they both slurped noisily. Aufra and Maryden paid no heed to it, both women walking to the cauldron at the far end of the small room. Calisca's sister started to stir the soup in the cauldron with a long wooden spoon. So that it wouldn't boil.
"Have you- did you-?" She began, a tremble in her voice.
Maryden reached into her pocket and pulled out the potion. Staring at it for a second before holding it out to Aufra, who gently took it from her hands almost reverently. "Lady Ranga said that you needed to take this before going to bed, next morning you will feel more energetic," she explained. A strange feeling settling in her gut as Aufra examined it, hope in her eyes. Hope for her unborn child.
"This, this will help?" The hope was evident in her voice, pleading Maryden to say 'yes' to make her believe that this was the cure for her child. To prevent it from being born hollow, without a soul.
In that brief moment Maryden seriously considered it, she wished it but the Gods were unmerciful to her wishes and Aufra's hopes and whispers. This woman, Calisca's sister, was unworthy of being lied to, of being led on. So Maryden said 'no' and watched the light in the soon-to-be-mother's eyes die.
The world was unfair.
Aufra glanced down at the small vial in her hands. The fire underneath the cauldron lighting her face and the room behind her. She had stopped stirring it, causing the soup to boil. Her mouth opened and closed several times and her eyes flicked up from the vial to Maryden's face and back down again.
"I'm sorry, Aufra."
Maryden felt the woman's heart break and placed a hand on her shoulder, grasping it tightly to prevent Aufra from crumbling along with it and to offer support. Aufra did not shake it off, instead she grabbed it with one hand as the other held the vial so tight her knuckles turned white. Tears glistened in her eyes, but when the woman sighed her physique relaxed and the took her hand of Maryden's, to wipe the tears away that threatened to spill. Aufra turned to her, her eyes defeated and the smile that tucked at her trembling lips a lie.
"Thank you.. for being honest. I hoped.. " her voice faltered so she stopped talking, taking another breath. She set the vial down on the fire mantle and fumbled with her hands. "I suppose all I can do now is pray. Perhaps the Gods will be kind." Aufra hesitated a little, before asking; "Will you pray with me?"
"Of course I will," Maryden whispered and nodded.
She followed Aufra towards outside of the house, towards the garden. It was dark and the rain was in the air, but did not quite yet fall. Maryden felt it then, a memory. Two girls giggling, both blond-haired and around the age of 8 and 10, holding hands and jumping around. The memory was one of joy and mirth, but with a tinge of sadness. Instinctively Maryden knew it was one of her and Calisca when they were young, still naïve of the horrors in the world. It changed, appearing faster than the memory before. It showed a man and Aufra, hugging and kissing. The sun shining down on Gilded Vale making it beautiful and alive. It changed again, now showing Aufra waving to her husband, smile on her face as he left for a hunt. It changed once more to show Aufra bawling, collapsed into the dirt as she had discovered the death of her love, father of her unborn child. The memory faded quickly and Aufra showed no inclinations of that she noticed Maryden's unintentional visit to her soul.
They stood in front of a small stone cross in the garden. Flowers adorning it.
"My husband," Aufra explained the thing Maryden already knew, but did not speak out loud.
She kneeled and so did Maryden. Unsheathing her sword out of respect and held onto the hilt, point burying in the ground before her. Like she had seen Edér do several times as he prayed to Eothas each night. Maryden did not know what caused her to mimic his action, but it felt right at the time. She closed her eyes when Aufra began to talk.
"Dear Gods.. thank you for the day you have granted me. Please watch over soul of my husband and that of my dear unborn-"
Aufra's voice faded into the background into soft murmuring as Maryden listened. The whispers were unrelenting and loud, but still inconceivable. Gibberish. Her head started to feel light and heady, but it was a sensation she could not control. Flashes jolted through her minds-eye, intense and bright. There was tower like the one she had woken up to after the bîawac, but now in full glory. Shining and humming, the energy in the air making her skin crawl. This was wrong.
She was amidst those dressed in the same black robes as she. In front of her was a man, adorning a giant headdress like two horns. She felt awe towards him, but was at the same time terrified.
The image changed, the tower disappeared and in front of her stood the man she called once called father. 'Monster,' he sneered. Eyes filled with spite and hate. Behind him stood her mother, her little brother clutching on to her for dear life.
The scenery changed again, now it was Riordan. Grey beard coloured dark red, the hairs matted and messy. He was on the ground and sputtered, blood coating his teeth and he reached out to her. 'Help me,' he groaned.
A hand touching her shoulder made Maryden startle and everything faded, even the whispers toned down a bit. She felt the cold rain on her skin and seep into the clothing on her back. Her hair was stuck to the crown of her head as Maryden stared into the mud in front of her. She was still kneeling, hands clutching the hilt of her sword in a death grip as if it kept her from falling forward.
"Maryden?" It was Aufra. Her voice sounded scared.
Her mind was stuck, wanting to move forward but couldn't. Hackling and tripping. "I- I," she began but could not finish her words. She closed her eyes again and the grip on her sword almost faltered. Her head felt stuffed and heavy and she tried to breath focused through her nose to prevent herself from passing out.
"I'm fine," she finally managed to let the words tumble over her lips and pulled herself on her feet. Her vision swam around her for a minute, the images of hanged and tortured men and women flickering in her peripheral vision. She started to feel sick, but did not hurl out the contents of her stomach.
"Are you sure?" Aufra asked with hesitation.
Maryden chuckled briefly but without joy because of the confrontation. A defense mechanism. When she was sure of that her legs wouldn't give out underneath her she pulled her sword out of the ground and sheathed it, she would clean off the mud later.
"I'm fine," Maryden reassured her.
Aufra looked at her strangely, a mixture of confusion, hesitation and a little sliver of something else that Maryden could not place. The woman nodded and gestured to her to follow, the drops of rain grew in size. The intensity increasing and they were both almost soaked when they reached the insides of her small little cabin.
"Thank you, again," the woman said with gratitude, her warm hands encasing Maryden's cold ones. "If you ever need something, let me know alright?"
Maryden looked up to see determination and worry etched in the soon-to-be-mother's face. She nodded, despite the knowledge that she wouldn't burden the woman with her own problems about souls and visions. Aufra had other things to worry about than her.
"I will," Maryden lied. The taste of it sour on her tongue.
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"Ugh," Aloth snorted behind Maryden as he hoisted his pack up higher over his shoulder. "At least we're out of that mudhole, Gilded Vale."
"You know, I grew up there. In Gilded Vale," Edér informed, stroking his beard with one hand.
Maryden glanced at them over her shoulder, seeing how Aloth grew flustered and stammered a few times before he uttered that it was 'quaint'. Edér laughed heartedly at his embarrassment as he was just pulling the wizard's leg, it was deep and resonating around them. The world just barely waking up from its slumber.
Quickly she tore her gaze away from him and focused on the road, feeling odd. Conflicted. She pressed for a moment her hand against her forehead to quell her headache, the whispers annoyingly louder than they used to be. Perhaps they increased as she grew more tired?
"It was stupid of you to refuse that Trumbel's reward," a gruff voice said with an accusing tone. Maryden opened her eyes to see Durance glaring at her. "We could've used it."
"Durance, we talked about this. The miller and his family had a lot of trouble from Sweynur, they could use the money since the crops are dying and," Maryden gestured to the large backpack she carried, "we have plenty of coins. Sometimes you don't have to take gifts people offer, because they themselves need it the most."
The priest stared at her. The inky black depths of his eyes almost demonic in this early hour of dawn. "You will regret it."
He had said it with such certainty that Maryden almost instantly did, but she shook it off when the agitation within her grew. 'What does he know? He's a bitter old man, thinking everything is a waste,' she darkly thought.
The agitation and wariness of her condition continued to simmer on the surface even when the sun had risen high up in the sky and threatened to fall back down again, dousing the world in darkness. They were now in the Black Meadow. A dark, almost swamp-like area. Tomorrow at noon they would reach Caed Nua, according to Edér who had recently began speaking to her again.
'Perhaps it was Aufra? They were both whispering before we left.'
Maryden tried to stop the rising unease the thought and memory it invoked. It all felt so secretive. She remembered how Edér placed a hand on the woman's shoulder, squeezing it as he stared directly into her eyes. She had walked away then, feeling estranged and intrusive.
'Perhaps they were-'
Abruptly she extinguished her train of thought and lit the campfire in an instant, the spark from her flints not the reason why it ignited. Maryden breathed focused through her nose, silencing the storm raging inside of her and so the flames dancing in her eyes and hair disappeared along with it.
She stood up, hating how her muscles protested and went to set up her tent. Edér came back with a few rabbits that he and Aloth skinned. Durance was scouting the area, the Black Meadow famous (or infamous?) of its treacherous roads and wildlife. Better to be safer than sorry.
"I hope that old Watcher's still there," Edér mumbled muffled with a spoonful of rabbit stew in his mouth. He swallowed. "It's been years since I heard anything about him."
Maryden listened, her curiosity peeked as Aloth spoke out the question that has been swirling in her head for some time now. "What do you want to ask him?"
"Something about the War."
Instantly Maryden casted her eyes back down to the stew, prodding and stirring it, guilt ridden. The moment of awkwardness was almost cringe worthy. Aloth himself also stammered a bit, but quickly regained himself by asking another question.
"So what did you do? Before all of this I mean."
Edér told about his life , about how he was a trouble maker when he was younger and diffusing the uncomfortable tension. Making his parents go grey with worry, so he said. He talked about farming, his fleeting aspirations to become an Eothasian priest (Maryden had a real hard time picturing that) and his brother. Woden, who had died. Aloth didn't press into the how and why, but Maryden had a sense it was about the War that Edér was so reluctant to talk about.
He talked about the Purges, the Eothasians getting murdered on the streets just because they believed in Eothas, of how Gilded Vale wanted his head. Also about a little Hollowborn girl on the farm that he worked on and how the animancers had a cure called the Salvation. Where they would put animal souls into the girl's body, so that it would have some kind of 'life' before going mad and rabid.
"The chained the girl up in the shed when she snapped, caught her gnawing on her brother's bones. The mother did not want to have anything to do it with it, but the father visited her every single day," Edér contemplated and placed down the empty bowl of his stew on the ground.
"He was just waiting and hoping. Waiting for her to get better look up to him and say 'Papa'."
"I-" Maryden began, albeit hesitant. "I'm sorry." It was partially about his experience with girl, but also about that incident. Edér looked at her for a long time, his green eyes burying themselves into hers until she could no longer meet his gaze and let her own eyes fall to the ground.
"So am I," he whispered with his heart.
The evening came and went with tale-telling. Durance plaguing Aloth about not having the pleasure to touch a woman's bosom, causing the Elf to fluster and mumble tensely. Sometimes Maryden noticed that he talked in an odd accent. Not always, but at moments of great emotion. She made a mental note of asking him about it later.
"So," Aloth began, turning to her as Edér and Durance prepped in for the night, meaning that Durance would just plump on his bedroll, all sweaty and dirty and that Edér would clean his face and neck with a wet cloth, something he (and Aloth and she) did every single day since no one had the luxury of a bath in the middle of nowhere. Though he would sleep in most of his armour, so did she since neither of them could not cast any type of spells they had to rely on their weapons and armour. And you could be awfully surprised in the wilderness.
"So," Maryden repeated slowly. A silence came over them where neither of them talked. She looked up at him from her spot in front of her tent. There must have been something in her eyes, for the wizard mumbled a good night and retreated into his tent.
The God-like reached for her journal and opened it. She took a quill and an inkpot and starting writing. Writing what they had done today, writing about Aufra and an inkling of her thoughts. Not too much, a lot of it was private and what if someone unintendedly, or worse, read it.
As agreed she woke Durance for the second watch and retreated in her tent, listening to the grumbling of the priest of Magran when sleep failed to claim her. The whispers overwhelming her.
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