Once Was: Book One of the Asylum Trilogy (11 page)

Sneered words chilled the air. “Don’t get too friendly with the enemy, Fion. My brother will have her executed like the others.” Dark hair swung in an arc, and the lingering scent of her perfumed oil hung long after she left.

“She acts as my assistant medic. Having a patient here unsettled Kayade. She likes things to be as they always have been. You are mine, though, Roseen. I won’t let them hurt you, even if it means sneaking you out in the early hours while all are in prayer.” His lips sealed to mine then, reawakening the binding we had done.

“Handfast with me, Fion,” was my soft plea as he slid beneath the covers. “Make us permanent.”

“Leave the Priesthood, and we’ll have the ceremony by nightfall.”

*

Despite what turned into a screaming match, Fion and I had spent three days in his bed, only leaving to fetch food and exchange dirty linens. When his assistant came daily to see if Fion was willing to see other patients in the clinic, he had chased her off with sweet promises to help as soon as his “childhood friend was back on her feet.” The glares she shot me turned to smiles once ordered to bind my powers again. All the pain Kayade inflicted was tempered by memories of the bliss I accepted in Fion’s bed and the luxuries with which he pampered me. Due to his status in Lorilindo, he had a private bathing chamber, including a brass tub set over a fire so heated water was no luxury to him. The water let out onto the fields, irrigating the crops with the remnants of our frequent baths.

If I had not seen the tincture to stop conception upon his desk in the infirmary, I might have mourned our lack of child-making. There was so much I needed to do that his silent deception was a blessing despite my anger regarding his lack of forthcoming. No words were spoken; I had to honor his decision to do what was best for our situation. It was better to have no chance for pain than worry what Liand would do should he discover what Fion and I had done.

It was my own fault for having taught Fion the recipe. After our first night outside Aristeer, I’d kissed away his fears that I might “catch,” as he’d called it, then showed him the herbal tincture all priestesses carried for fear of forced interludes with the army. Now, with our bond ended, I wished that I had some part of him to cling to beyond the translucent ghost of his memory. Dead or married, he was lost to me.

I would be a whore to no man, despite what Liand had done once Fion could no longer declare I was his patient. My healing abilities were not all he demanded, and in exchange for releasing five of my sisters still in captivity, I gave myself willingly for the three moons I treated his tumors. Despite declaring my abilities heretical, Liand had no issues with allowing me to pray to Aya for a sharp blade to remove the exterior tumors, and Bas to heal what I could not remove physically. I slept in his bed, healing every ailment until his own faith-healers and medics found him in perfect health once again. It was due to his fondness for Fion that I was granted a chance to escape, but I knew should I be caught again, I would not be treated to such liberties.

The rueful thoughts that had accompanied me through the woods followed me into the home that had belonged to Kira and then Asha and to the back wall where all my hopes for the future rested. The latest tenant’s departure was so hasty that remnants of her supper still sat in the pot over the dead hearth, the contents burnt to a dry crisp. Her bed was destroyed; scraps of fabric and dried grasses covered open chests that once held clothes. My luck held, however, and the hidden door to the temple remained undisturbed. The clay covered walls were cool to my touch as I tried to remember where Kira had opened the door for me before taking a short cut to the sacred space.

Could I find the short cut?

Nay, I had to take the proper path to the temple. My nails caught upon two cracks in the plaster, one leading to the right crevice to spring the latch. The door whispered open, fabric on the other side sliding over the earthen floor.

Sunlight filtered ahead in the temple, giving a soft ending to the darkness awaiting. The tunnel seemed much shorter than my last trip. I stripped off my shoes and set them atop a small woven basket before pushing the door closed, leaving me in the womb-like space. With my hands on either wall, I soon had to drop to my knees and crawl as the earthen walkway returned me to my beginnings. Cade’s shirt was covered in mud by the time I reached the temple. The mosaic tiles humbled me in their singularly awe-inspiring way.

“Mother Bas.” I called to the Divine Mother, and the green eyes in the mosaic tile pulsed with light. “I am lost. I heal, but I feel no magic. Help Your child return to Your path.”

Reclaiming my past, my back stung as old reed dug into my skin. The pillow was no longer scented with herbs, and the incense was long gone, but the sanctity of the space remained. Opening to Her flooded me with cold warmth that was reminiscent of the ache received when placing winter-chilled hands too close to the fire.

“You are never lost, Daughter of Old.” The mists claimed me. “Your path has left the road paved by others, but you are not lost. Come to Me. Come Home. All is not lost; do not lose your hope.”

My mind swam, trying to form a response. Only one word came to me and escaped on a sigh.
“How?”

“The same way The First did. Would I set you a task too hard, Child? Believe. If you believe, the magic will come.”

Chapter Nine

We offer and walk beneath the protection of the paw; this is truth. It is the claw, however, for which we are remembered.

The First Lessons: The Path Ahead

T
he
storm
cloud of my emotions followed me out of the temple and through the woods towards town. Birds fluttered out of my sight, afraid I might throw a rock to knock them from their perches. They were right to fear me; I feared my own response to Bas’ words. My lips twisted in crude mockery, and my voice rose several octaves as I muttered to myself. “If you believe, the magic will come.” My grumbles of the Goddess’ advice scared a raven sitting on an oak branch, and I yelled the phrase again for good measure. “If I believed I had a chance of doing it, I would not have asked for Her guidance.”

I wanted a sister to whine to, someone who would stroke my hair back from my face as I cried out my frustrations. You could do that with the blacksmith, my secret inner voice called. I no longer needed Aya’s presence to sell my heart to Cade. My thoughts had already betrayed me. Well, that part of me—the one that had decided I would accept Cade’s offer of marriage—could just forget it. Nothing was more important than getting to Sheelin, Cade and my damnable lust included.

I would eat those words not five turns of the road later.

Entering the city, I found no one on the roads. The orchard’s paw print sign from before could only be seen as the sun crossed letters. Madani was too quiet, as if it were waiting for something. My steps grew faster until at last I reached my forlorn district. The pounding beat of my heart stilled, and the muscle caught in my throat as I rounded the building and saw the forge’s ample space filled to the brim with soldiers. From wall to wall they crowded around Cade. Each wore the crimson sash of Liand’s army and was so close I could smell the stink of horses still on them.

Cade’s face was bloodied where he lay forced down to the ground, hands pinned by two men’s boots. Defiance shone in his eyes despite the pain, perhaps from it, and he wrested one hand free before the guard stepped down again. I knew they were using care not to hurt him, not if they wanted his swords that badly, but the position broke something in me.

They would not hurt him; I would not allow it.

“Again I ask, where’s the witch?” A plumed soldier pulled Cade’s head off the ground by his hair. “She was seen in the marketplace yesterday morning, and a concerned citizen reported she lives next door. A bed’s been slept in there recently.”

Cade’s lips dripped blood as he groaned out his response, his anger barely kept at a simmer when it wanted to burn like the flames in the forge. My own surged unchecked. “Aye, the priestess was here, and she’s already left. My fiancée made her unwelcome, I suspect. They did not trust one another. I don’t anticipate she’ll be back too soon with you Crimson Crusaders marching around like you own this town. Take your swords and go.”

The soldier’s foot dropped into the middle of Cade’s shoulders, and I fought back tears as my blacksmith was smashed into the ground. The splinters of wood and metal would work their ways into his skin, requiring hours of cleaning. “If you’re found harboring a fugitive of the army, one Liand has marked as the leader of the heretics, your entire town will pay.” The leader? But Liand knew I was not the Oracle or High Priestess!

“Shall we have you watch as we kill all the children using blades you have made? You’re no better than the boarding house women along the docks who trade their souls for a little pleasure and gold. You want our gold and our protection, but don’t want to be seen with us. For a heretical blacksmith, you are lucky to be alive.” Cade’s captor smirked and stepped back. “I think Lord Liand needs to revisit this desperate hovel in the near future. Yes, we shall inform him that a routine viewing of this city,” he spat in distaste, “is necessary.”

If I was known for being protective of Madani, Cade’s guardianship was more than double mine. He breathed to see the citizens safe. Other than a single visit to my father and a spring trek to the bazaar located between Aristeer and Madani, Cade had never even peeked outside our home city. The yearly trips to trade for more raw materials did not count. Even those were for Madani, not himself.

He was everything right about our shared town. Anger bristled through him; I could feel Aya’s fury pulsing in the forge. Never before had I wished Cade walked the spiritual path. Magic could have protected him today. If he wore the bracers of the priesthood, his lessons in magic would have granted the ability to pull the flames and twist them into a weapon. A hammer made of fire instead of stone could smash and burn in one fell blow.

He couldn’t wield magic, but I could. My talents lay not in evocation but in healing; for Cade, however, I would learn. Cade was big enough to hold his own against one or two, not against that entire squadron surrounding him. The sight rang with injustice when not colored with emotional bias.

I had to even the score. “Bas, answer Your daughter’s need.” My voice was carried to the sky by birds, incense formed of my intent. If She wanted me to find my faith, I would start here. She owed me a show of faith.

No sooner had the words left my lips than wind whipped in from the lake, bringing with it the scent of fish and fresh water, and made my hair stand straight out around my face. Clouds followed in the sky, covering us in their shade before they unleashed the first drops. Stones that had been gray with dust now had a pink cast as the water dampened them. The tang of metal working filled the air as lightning began to arc from cloud to cloud. Thunder shook us, answering my rage. It was not enough.

“The Witch-Woman! Take her!”

I begged Cade to stay down, a quick look that held a thousand conversations. Each began with “I’ll say yes if you live through this,” and ended with “I’m sorry, but the magic is consuming me.” My heart filled with hope for Cade’s survival, and I opened my arms to the powers above. My hands tingled as if I had just woken from a long slumber. I felt ready to play. In this, I was a kitten with a weaver’s spool of yarn, and the soldiers were the threads my claws would snap.

“Sleep,” I intoned. A wave of calm washed out from me in a tide. Wide-spread hands forced them to hold back. The men’s knees buckled under the onslaught as the world of dreams wrapped around them, beguiling them to rest with promises of sweet dreams and soft flesh to welcome them. Three came under my sway, and I ignored the enraged screams of their companions.

Three hearts beat in time with mine. “Slow.” Magic from the dreams crept into their chests. I felt the moment the muscles cramped to a stop, followed by their chests rise and fall in a final breath. Those who resisted me advanced, leaving my would-be protector forgotten for the moment.

Magic drums throbbed inside; they echoed the thunder as my heart shot out lightning to mimic the sky’s delight. I could mold the arcs—this I knew from that same dark place from which an oneira proclaims the future. “Aya, Lord of Man’s creation, strike Your hammer down on those who would destroy he who is Yours.” I pointed to the fire’s glow from the forge with my left hand and with my other raised to the sky, I brought both palms down. My body burned with the lightning and distilled fire that rained down.

I screamed from the painful bliss of watching bolt after bolt of purple, red, white, and blue lightning connect ground and sky. Each bright line weakened me as my strength fed the magic. My eyes knew not to look at the lives I claimed. I could feel no remorse in saving Cade, myself, or our people. Instead, I watched Cade’s chest, ensuring that he still breathed within the sudden darkness. With a last clap of thunder and subsequent cough from Cade, the breeze stopped, and the sun shone through drifting clouds.

I smiled, knowing Cade was alright, then swayed on my feet. Too much magic, I tried to say. I was burned inside, scorched from holding Aya and Bas’ power for too long. A soft cry of my name was the last thing I heard as darkness claimed me.

Chapter Ten

Grace, my sisters, is what sets you apart from the priests. While we protect, you inspire and heal. Share your grace with us, daughters of the Goddess. Teach us to walk as lightly as you do. In this, no matter our status in the temple, you are the teacher and we the eternal-student. May you bless the world with your grace always.

Letters to the Initiate, Fifth High Priest of Bas and Son of Aya