"Absili Way"
by Christie
Benson
She had made a promise,
one that was born in blood and washed in the wail of a child.
Time had sealed that promise, bored it into her very breath
and bones. How much more blood must flow because of it? She
may never know, but the Goddess be praised if the killing
could stop.
The copper smell of blood
assailed her nose, causing her to gag. Slowly, she relaxed
her grip on her sword, stiff fingers slick with sweat and
blood. Everything around her was splashed red, the table,
floor, and even the ceiling. Her heart slowed and her teeth
unclenched to ease the throbbing in her jaw. Two dead men
lay before her. While her eyes searched their faces, her stomach
heaved. He wasn't there. Anymore she didn't believe he would
be. She didn't know their names and probably never would.
The promise of information,
that one whisper of a rumor had driven her to this. Well,
there was no help for it now. At least she knew she didn't
slay the one man that might lead her to her husband and her
son. Small comfort as that was, she took what she could these
days.
Her whole body ached
with the aftermath of combat. Muscles groaned as she laid
her sword down and picked up a bowl from the table. It was
a large stew bowl, sturdy and well made. Its lovely soft sheen
glowed in the candlelight. It would do. She always buried
her dead.
******
She shook with tremors
that seized her whole body. The gasping cold ripped her fingers
and arms as she placed the last stone on yet one more grave.
She didn't know if these men followed the Goddess or not,
but still she would stay. A fresh grave must be attended for
the first night and day, to make sure the spirit of the dead
didn't rise to haunt her.
The chill of the night
seeped through her body. A death song sang through the wind,
high and higher to the sky above her. Stars shone brightly
down, secrets locked behind their steely knowledge. Secrets
she desperately needed to know.
She raised her head to
the sky and screamed her anguish. Fists above her head, she
cursed the heavens with her pain. A flock of birds burst into
the air, carrying her message of despair and rage into the
night. She didn't know if the Goddess heard or not, but she
wouldn't keep silent any longer. Wailing her fury, she picked
up a stone and flung it as hard as she could. She dropped
to the ground, razing the cold soil with her fingers. Limp
and exhausted, she brought herself back from the brink. Her
mind opened to the memories that would ravage her forever.
*****
Laughter and sunlight,
it drenched the air around her until she thought she could
drink it like warm golden honey. She ran around a tree, knowing
he was in hot pursuit behind her. Silently, she held her place.
The wrinkled, aged trunk could easily hide two of her. She
calmed her breath to better hear his approach. He was always
quiet when stalking; but then again, she was better than he.
She was patient, for a
while. Light butterflies then took flight in her belly, fluttering
madly with her increasing tension. Where was he? She peeked
around the tree. Scanning every bush and leaf, she made her
way from behind it. Thick leaf mold and moss muffled her steps.
She sniffed the air. Buckletree, perryflowers, die-at-nights,
and the sweet smell of soil freshly rained on all greeted
her nose with as much joy as she felt.
She sniffed again, there
it was. Nightjade. Silly, vain, man. Nightjade didn't grow
in this Province. Would he never remember that his soap reeked
of it? Every few steps, she paused to smell again.
There he was! She had
come up behind him while he was crouched beneath the boughs
of a drooptree. Did he think to wait her out? Grinning madly,
she scooped some mud, threw it at his head, turned and fled.
"Arrrgggg! Where
are you! He burst out from under the tree. Kara! Did you think
that was funny?" A swinging branch alerted him to her
direction. Off he raced after her, determined to catch her.
Her mad dash through the
forest easily guided his way. A rueful smile spread across
his face as he loped after her. She must want him to catch
her then. He angled away from her passage, making a guess
as to where she would go.
Oh! He disappeared again.
Where is that stupid wretch? He was supposed to follow her!
Panting lightly, she made her way to the clearing. She stepped
away from where the forest abruptly ended.
Here was the spot she
had chosen; here he would ask her for the third and final
time. Absili law forbade him to ask anymore if she refused
again. She wanted him to understand she was no milksop maid,
ready to wait on him hand and foot, prince or no. That is
why she made him wait for the third request. Now she doubted
herself. Maybe she made the chase too long and hard? No, she
was what she was. An Absili noble, born from the blood of
warriors. Did not her ancestor fight beside King Tilmanti?
Did she not secure almost half of the known kingdom today
for him? Did they not even still sing her song during the
winter nights? This is who she was. If he gave up now, then
he truly was not the man for her.
He stood in the shadow
of a tree, laughing silently to himself. Her every emotion
crossed her face making it easy for him to trace her thoughts.
Wiping dried mud from his cheek, he waited for her to come
his way. She would get what she deserved for making him wait
for nine agonizing months.
She stomped off in the
direction of home, bringing her closer to his hiding place.
Just one step more…
She screamed as he jumped
out of the trees. He knocked her over and sent them both rolling
down a gentle incline. Golden grass wrapped around their shrieking
laughter as they tumbled along. They came to a stop, lying
back in the grass, arms and legs entwined.
The soft gasps of dying
laughter danced in the air. Could there ever be another time
such as this? She surely hoped there would be. Raising up
on one arm, he looked at her. The force of his gaze pressed
her to the warm earth, catching her breath and floating it
away on the breeze.
One finger traced her
bottom lip. "Tell me true, will you be my wife?"
Her sigh brushed his finger,
an erotic promise of what would come.
"Yes."
*****
Her face stared back
at her from the silver edged mirror. It was a good face, kind
and intelligent, that she knew, but what of beauty? She hadn't
cared much before. Horses and swordplay occupied most of her
days. Her father said she looks like a golden flower in bloom,
with her deep blonde hair and cat green eyes. All the men
who had courted her waxed on and on about her lips, eyes and
hair, one even wrote a poem about her eyebrows if the truth
be told. It was enough to make her want to puke. She never
knew if all those flowery phrases were for her or for the
richest Province in the land.
Now looking at herself,
right before her marriage to Taylen, she wanted to be the
most beautiful woman in the world. All around her maids and
ladies flittered about, tucking this curl, tying that ribbon.
Would they never leave her be? Didn't they know a stupid piece
of lace placed "just so" over her breasts wasn't
going to make a difference? He would take her as she was,
regardless; it was too late to back out now.
She caught her mother
looking at her in the mirror. "A woman never knows her
true beauty until it shines in her lover's eyes and is reflected
from her own heart. You will do well to remember that."
her mother whispered in her ear.
A rap on the door halted
all of the frantic activity. She whirled around her silks
and veils fanning the floor. A hysterical giggle tried to
break free at the sight of everyone frozen in place. What
were they expecting to happen? He had to come eventually.
Her mother straightened
herself and walked to the door. She opened it wide, stepping
back so all could see who was there. "He comes to us.
A man to make my daughter a wife. One worthy of her spirit
and fire. One worthy of her intelligence and beauty. One half
of her whole, under the eyes of the Goddess." she intoned
the ancient phrases.
Taylen's father, the king,
stood behind him. He spoke the next words to the ceremony.
"She comes to us. A woman to make my son a husband. One
worthy of his bravery and honor. One worthy of his love and
soul. One half of his whole, under the eyes of the God."
*****
"Push. Push! You
are almost done. That's it. Good!" The midwife's relentless
voice filled her ears.
"I can't. Not any
more. I am so tired." She lay back against her husband's
chest, panting in exhaustion. Her admission shamed her to
the core. Sweat dripped in her eyes, she swiped at it angrily.
Strong arms encircled
her. Her husband sat behind her, his back against the headboard,
supporting her in her battle. His quiet strength mingling
with her desperate cries. That was the Absili way. One half
of a whole, always there to fight each other's battles.
"Shush. Yes you can
Kara, my little warrior. Just a little longer." His eyes
locked with the midwife's. She nodded her head.
"One more time."
The midwife coaxed. Kara grabbed her knees as the next contraction
hit her. Her husband helped push her forward, lending her
his love and confidence. The pain rose in waves, trapping
her soul to the very depths of her being. Never had she fought
a battle so hard or with so much desperation. She screamed.
Something wet and slick slid from her body.
"Ah, there sweetling,
I told you." He leaned her back and held her tight. His
finger lightly traced her brow. "I love you so."
A lusty cry came from
the end of the bed. She raised her head, "Is it a boy
or a girl?" she whispered trough dry lips.
"A fine boy,"
the old lady cackled, "Ten fingers and toes. Hair black
as sin, just like his Father's." A wide smile graced
her face with the only beauty she would ever have.
"Oh, Taylen,"
she breathed, "a boy."
*****
Healing sobs tore through
her body under the night sky. How long had she held them in?
Six weeks? She had promised not to cry until vengeance was
done. Well, what was one more promise broken? Did it really
matter any more?
Her tears dried on her
cheeks, the wind causing her face to ache. She sat up, ready
now to tend to her vigil, the memories brushed away once again.
Sir Madric wouldn't be happy with her. She was supposed to
have waited for him so they could talk to these men together.
Scenes from the fight
played through her mind. The more she thought of it, the more
it seemed strange to her. Was she so used to people attacking
her at every turn that she couldn't see what lay before her?
Those men were waiting. They knew she was coming. Maybe they
just knew she carried gold and thought her easy prey. She
had only hoped to buy information from them, not to waste
two lives. Next time she vowed to take Madric with her. Maybe
between the two of them they could have kept one man alive.
*****
The sun sank behind the
trees, lining them with purple and gold, just like her wedding
silks. A few more hours and she could go. The wind had died
and with it the bitter cold. A breeze was always cold here,
even in the summer. How could these people live here? How
could they not want to live in a land where the sun warmed
the air around them?
The sound of horses broke
the air. She stood, hand on the hilt of her sword, not knowing
what to expect. A silhouette appeared on the horizon. Her
muscles relaxed with the realization that it was Madric and
not some bandit. That was good for her, at this point she
was so tired she wasn't sure if she could take on some ten-year-old
boy swiping at her with a stick.
Madric pulled to a halt
in front of her, anger clearly lining his face. He was a bold
man of bold features. A strong nose, a high brow and large
mustache took up most of his face. His eyes were nearly hidden
in the folds of his frown. He opened his mouth, ready to vent
his wrath on her head.
Scowling, she poked a
finger in his direction. "I don't want to hear it. I
already know it was stupid for me to come here alone."
Madric let out a strong
"Humph," but held his peace. He wasn't happy but
he knew she understood her folly. Later he would lecture her.
He dismounted and handed her the reins to her horse. She hadn't
taken her horse with her in the hopes that would delay Madric
in finding out where she had gone. The tiny shack was only
two miles from town, not a long walk at all.
His gaze took in the two
graves. Hot eyes swung in her direction, ready to blast her
from her shoes.
She quirked her eyebrow
and gave him a firm look. "I meant it, Madric. Not a
word. We might as well camp here tonight, I have a few hours
left of my vigil." That statement received a snort and
a glower. "Not a word," this time with more
heat.
He obeyed her, after a
fashion. Not one word was said to her. However, the poor horses
got a blistering speech about the stupidity of young people,
young women in particular, and young royal women most of all,
while he was untying the bundles from the back of his horse.
It was quite a performance.
She hid a smile, ducked
her head and helped him set up camp.
continued
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