0 comments/ 7442 views/ 0 favorites Cursed Ch. 01 By: BettyBlue Chapter One Stormhellion Castle Eighteen Years Later "Cane? Are you in here?" The graunch of metal rings scraping across the curtain rail filled the room at the same time as a bright, warm light shone against Canaar's closed lids. His sister had snatched open the library drapes without a thought or care for his comfort. He let out a protracted groan. "Give me peace, Winnie. It is not time to rise." "It is almost midday...oh for heaven's sake, Cane. What if Mother had come in, or Ertha?" "No one uses the library but Morg, and I paid him to stay away." Unmoved by Winifred's exasperated tone, Canaar stretched and yawned and rubbed the sleep from his eyes with balled fists, then gently shook the slumbering, naked form prostrated across his chest. "It is not time to wake, my lord," the stable hand mumbled into his neck in protest. "Your future queen decrees otherwise." The prince shook him again. When he refused to move Canaar brushed the ruffled fringe from his face to make sure he understood him. "Tibald, the hearth is cold. The time has come for me to leave." The young man squeezed his eyes shut. "No, I do not allow it. Oh!" Winifred's patience had run out. Seizing the lad by the wrist she hauled him from the sheepskin pelt on the floor in front of the dead hearth and with a sharp slap on his pale, bare rump pushed him towards the library door. "Go on, you've had your fill of him. Leave a morsel for his family." "My clothes!" the slender boy exclaimed, cupping his crotch. Spying the creased shirt and breeches spilling over the arm of a chair, Winifred snatched them up and tossed them to him. "Such modesty would have been better applied last night. Now get out." Tibald cast Winifred a sour glance and slouched out of the chamber with his clothes pressed to his groin. "Heartless," Canaar remarked without feeling, sitting up with his arms slung around his raised knees. "On the contrary," Winifred responded, casting her brother's shirt at him. "I just saved you thinking of an excuse to get rid of him. I know how contemplation drains you." Canaar caught the wad of linen before it hit him in the face, and dropped it in his lap. He rubbed the faint shadow of stubble on his jaw. "It pains me you think so little of your favourite brother." "I love you, as well you know, but Mother is going out of her mind making sure every detail of your departure is organised. The twins are feral enough as it is----if you turn up late she'll have kittens. And god knows what Ertha thinks of you." "My wife is untroubled by thoughts or feelings of me." "How can you claim to know her thoughts when you spend most of your free time wrestling on the floor with boys rather than talking to her?" "Winnie..." Canaar warned. "We can't all be as fortunate as you to marry for love." "My husband was chosen for me, as your wife was chosen for you." "Are you denying you love Garig?" "Of course not, but our happiness didn't just happen over night. It took effort. If you put more effort into getting to know Ertha and less into seducing your servants, you might find yourself in love too." "Love comes from the seed of a man growing in a woman's womb, as grows in yours. I will never know that, and so I will never know love." "Don't be ridiculous. Many people love without bearing children." With a faint smile she smoothed a hand over her slightly swelling belly. "It is an added bonus if the gods bless the union with children. You haven't even given Ertha a chance. She's a very nice girl. You do like girls, don't you?" Canaar gave a noncommitted grunt. Casting his gaze to the narrow window Winifred had exposed, he tilted his head to the side, bird-like, assessing the light. "I wish you'd let me sleep another hour." Winifred crossed her arms over her bodice and glared at him. "If you don't get up now I'll send Garig in to rouse you. He'll be far less gentle." "All right, all right." Grimacing, Canaar got up and tugged his shirt over his head. "Are you going to watch me take a piss as well?" came the muffled question. "I ought to, but no, I have better things to do with my time. Just have a care and ready yourself. Mother and Father have prepared a farewell breakfast for you." She regarded him with open curiosity. "I thought you were excited to go? You've made all our ears bleed yammering on about your blessed commission for long enough." "I am. But that doesn't mean I can't enjoy my last moments at home. It will be a long time before I have my creature comforts again." Winifred shook her fair head in disapproval and pointed at the door. "Go on. Get to your chamber and dress." "Do you order poor Garig around like this?" Canaar asked, pulling on his breeches. "Poor Garig is a man, not a child. He doesn't need to be ordered around." Canaar caught her outstretched hand, pressing it with ironical chivalry to his lips. "When I'm far from home I shall miss the tender love of my sister most of all." "Save your charm. I'm impervious to it. Oh!" Canaar had grabbed her about the waist and begun tickling her. Winifred doubled over. "Stop!" Crying and laughing she tried to push him away. "Stop it!" "Tell me you'll miss me," he ordered, continuing his assault. "I'll be glad to see the back of you. Argh! All right! I give in! I'll miss you!" He pulled away laughing. "The ticklish heir of Anteran. I hope your enemies don't learn of your weakness. It would save them a fortune on ammunition." Winifred swiped at him and missed as he darted out of reach and jumped on a chair. "Pig. I hope the dragons take you." He bounced up and down on the chair and held his hands wide. "If they do I'll tell them my sister is the Winifred the Great of Anteran, the fiercest dragonlady in all the realm, and not to be trifled with. They'll worship me." She snorted on her way out the door. "They'll find you as ridiculous as I do and roast you on the spot." Canaar staggered from the chair and collapsed dramatically on the floor. "It burns! It burns!" Winifred hesitated in the doorway and shook her head, not quite able to suppress a smile. "Fool." "You'll miss me!" he called to her. * * * * * Lena couldn't believe her fortune. Junen was smiling on her today! Her heart beat faster as she gazed at the old buck a few yards upwind. The magnificent brute stood at least fifteen hands high. The rest of the band couldn't help but admire her for bringing him down. No more campfire teasing that she'd have trouble catching a cold. Her fist tightened on her spear and the six-inch iron tip quivered in sympathy. She couldn't bring him back to camp on her own, but at least Eula was nearby, and one or two of the other women. Between them they would manage. Her scalp prickled with anticipation as she slowly raised the spear. "Help." The stag's shoulders tensed, the thicket of antlers lifted and his flanks shivered and then the behemoth was gone, crashing through the undergrowth. "Bloody moons," Lena muttered, then winced and looked sheepishly skyward. "Sorry." As the sound of thrashing branches and snapping twigs diminished into the distance she slowly lowered her arm, unsure whether to feel relieved or vexed. She knew at the crux of it she didn't want to deliver the great beast to his maker, but at the very least she felt baffled. Was that really a man's voice calling out? Cocking her head, she listened, but only the sound of the breeze rustling the leaves came back to her. A shiver rippled up her spine and snagged between her shoulder blades. She made the sign of Junen in superstition. This part of the forest was neither close to local villages, nor was it a thoroughfare for strangers, but she couldn't help feeling she was being watched. Just when she thought her ears were playing tricks on her the cry came again, fainter this time. Still, there was no mistaking the pain and fear in the tone. Reacting at once she waded into the bracken off the boar track she'd been following when she happened across the stag. Tiny, unseen creatures skittered away into the leaf litter. Using her spear to scythe through vines and thick undergrowth, she stumbled abruptly into a clearing at the centre of which stood a band of men. Her heart gave a squeeze of shock and began to thud. They were Faerie-men; she knew that by their pointed ears. They were dressed in varied shades of green and brown suede, wearing a diverse range of weapons----from longbows to spears to hunting knives. They stood gathered around another lying prostrated on a circle of flattened ferns. Dark-haired, bare-chested and soaked in blood, she knew at once the man on the ground was not one of the flaxen-haired band. That he was considerably out-numbered stirred her sense of decency. "Hie there!" she called without thinking. "What goes here?" The Faeries all looked around at Lena, cold-eyed and disdainful. Something about them brought goose bumps rising over her skin and she shivered. She had seen such folk before when she was a small girl and they had passed through Caldey, but such a sight was rare. They mostly kept to the ley lines hidden in the forests, avoiding contact with people. They were all fine-faced, and lean. As she got closer she saw the workmanship of the embroidery on their tunics was second to none. "What mischief is this?" she demanded. The one she took to be their leader regarded her with a curl of his lip. He was a little taller, a little more handsome, and his bearing was a little more noble than the others. Her vulnerability was suddenly visited upon her when he took a step closer. The others regrouped behind him with their weapons aimed directly at her. She swallowed hard and clutched her spear more tightly. Though her knees were nearly knocking together she drew herself up to her full height, at least a foot shorter than him, trying to ignore all the stories she'd heard about their magical weaponry. Their arrowheads were said to cause insanity-inducing pain in the unlucky recipient. "You shouldn't be here." A blonde brow arched. Eyes the colour of a mountain stream flecked with gold penetrated her confidence. "On the contrary, mistress of Junen, it is you who is misplaced." He pointed the tip of his bow over Lena's shoulder. She looked slowly around and her heart sank to see several yards behind her the trunk of the Great Oak, which marked the boundary between her territory and theirs. She hadn't even noticed it in her hurry to attend the source of the cry for help. When she looked back at the Faerie she tried to mask her fear by puffing herself up as much as she could. "It will not go well for you if your mischief is discovered. This man is not so far inside your territory as to warrant a death sentence." To her embarrassment the Faerie burst out laughing, joined by the rest of his band. Her cheeks burned but she squared her chin and remained silently steadfast. At length the laughter dried up. "Brave heart," he announced with a rueful smile, "we had no part in his demise. We found him like this." "Demise? He's not dead is he?" She peered around the Faerie to see the wounded one was no longer awake. He looked as though most of his blood was staining the crushed bracken upon which he sprawled. Her alarm must have shown for the Faerie put a hand on her arm. "He breathes yet, but his time in this world draws to a rapid conclusion." "Bloody moons!" Lena pulled her arm from his disturbing grip and brushed past him, dropped her spear and bag and sank down next to the man on the ground----habit overcoming caution as she examined him, her deft fingers running over his head and chest, his arms and legs. The scent of death and decay overcame that of the crushed plants he lay upon. There were countless cuts and grazes on his naked torso----crusted and oozing----a terrible lump on the back of his head, he was dehydrated, and exhausted. But the worst of it was a broken arrow jutting out of his thigh, bandaged with a bloody, twisted tourniquet. She gently patted his bearded cheek. "Can you hear me, sir?" Dark-fringed eyelids fluttered open, as though with great effort, and his pained gaze zeroed in on her. Lena almost flinched back. She'd been so busy assessing his wounds she hadn't thought twice about touching him, but now she felt a shiver of apprehension. She'd never seen such vibrant blue eyes before, even more vivid in contrast with his grimy, hairy face and matted, black hair. He stared, and for a moment she felt transparent, naked, with no place to hide. "You look bad, sir." She didn't know what else to say after the shock of coming across him and her altercation with...Lena glanced over her shoulder to find the small clearing empty. She looked back at the man on the ground. The nape of her neck tingled. She hadn't heard them leave but she didn't for one moment believe they had vanished entirely. "Drink," the man rasped. Lena reached at once for her pouch. Pouring a little water into her palm, she trickled some against the chapped corners of his mouth. "Who did this mischief to you, sir? Are they abroad?" Being so near the border she often heard talk of skirmishes between Anterani and Cathasian soldiers, but none this close to home. His tongue flickered out and caught at the beads of moisture and he groaned----whether in relief or agony Lena couldn't be sure. She gradually wet his lips again and again until he was capable of taking in more fluid; but the closer to consciousness he drew, the more aware he became of his pain, and the discomfort was soon etched deep in the lines on his face. She'd seen people near death before, eaten up from the inside by diseases of old age, or contagions, but he was in the worst state she'd ever seen a person who in every other respect should have been hail and hearty. Her every instinct cried out to help him, but to do that she would have to move him back to the camp and what would the others say if she did? Any time would have been bad, but Moontime? He groaned again and his jaw trembled as though he were cold. Shrugging out of her tunic, she draped it over his bare chest hoping the warmth imbued in it from her own body might stave off a chill. Without realising she'd made it, her decision was clear. "I have to leave you for a short time," she told him, lightly touching his arm. His eyes flickered open registering alarm. He tried to speak but in his haste only managed a harsh grunt of protest. He gripped her wrist, but with the strength of a kitten. A little jolt of static tingled up Lena's arm. She snatched her hand back and curled it into a fist, resisting the urge to rub it. Assuming his concern was for the band of Faeries, she sent another quick glance around but saw only trees and vines. Then again, she sensed if they didn't want to be seen she would have no hope of spying them. "I doubt they'll return. I can't carry you on my own. I must get help. I'll be quick." Before the haunting helplessness in his eyes could detain her she scrambled to her feet and set off, not pausing to collect her belongings. It wasn't long before she found Eula filling a water pouch at a brook. "Thank Junen," she exclaimed. "Is anyone else near?" "Karina and Merryl, I think." Eula's eyes narrowed at Lena's appearance, wearing only her thin vest and breeches, now stained with blood. "You're not hurt are you? Or have you brought something down? Where's your kit?" Lena waved a hand. "I'll explain later. Show me where the others are." They found the other two women in a clearing bent over the eviscerated carcass of a fallen deer. Giving them only enough time to wave the gathering flies away and drape the animal across Merryl's broad shoulders, Lena led the curious party back through the woods. Merryl stopped short next to the Great Oak. "I'm not going in there," she said, nodding to where the trees grew closer together casting longer, deeper shadows. "That's Faerie-land." "Please, it's not far," Lena begged. "I wouldn't ask if it weren't important." Karina shivered. "It's creepy. Don't you feel like someone's watching us?" Lena fired a desperate look at Eula. Eula gave Karina a nudge. "Come on, how often does Lena ask anyone for anything? And we're always going to her with our gripes and sicknesses. She said it's not far and I trust her." After a few seconds the other woman grumbled something under her breath, but moved on, which seemed to prompt Merryl to go along as well. When they arrived in the clearing Merryl heaved the deer onto the ground with a thud and looked in amazement as Lena crouched down next to her patient. "Is that a man?" "Please," Lena urged, "he's very badly hurt. We have to move him." "Move him?" Karina echoed exchanging a dubious sideways glance with Merryl. "Where?" "Back to camp so I can treat his wounds." "Camp?" Karina repeated, staring at her. "Are you mad?" "If we don't he'll die," Lena said, with increasing impatience. "So?" Karina fired back. "He's obviously got into a fight with a Faerie and come off second-best. What's one less man in the world?" "You sound just like Nerris. Remember without men none of us would be here," Lena retorted. "Now, give me whatever you have to make binds." Karina's eyes widened. "What's got your goat? You don't know him, do you?" "Of course not," Lena muttered, focusing her attention on finding suitable branches to build a stretcher. "I just don't like seeing anyone in pain----man or woman." "You'll be the one in pain if you bring a man back to camp," Karina warned. "We all will." Lena took Karina by the arm and led her a few yards away. "Kari," she began, keeping her voice low, "remember when you came to me sick from eating too many goja berries and I gave you medicine to help you feel better? Did I tell on you for taking more than your share?" Karina coloured and her expression grew sullen. "No." "Don't we abhor greed in the Priory?" Lena pressed. "If the Elders found out, you'd be mucking out the animals for a month." "Fine," Karina grated through gritted teeth, "we'll help, but if there's any trouble----and there will be----you're on your own." Merryl opened her mouth to protest but was silenced by a gesture from Karina. She groaned and set about helping gather wood. Between the four women----Merryl strong and capable carrying the deer and her share of the stretcher as if she was out for an afternoon stroll----were able to lift the man free of the bracken. Despite Lena splinting the leg it shifted and he cried out and lost consciousness. Lena made no effort to bring him round, reckoning he'd be better off asleep for the jolting, half hour journey back to camp. With the swift descent of the sun the woods grew dark and cool around them, but even in her vest Lena hardly noticed. The thought of what she was doing was enough to bring a flush of nervous anticipation to her skin. She was just relieved to be back in mortal territory. By the time they arrived at camp, the pale sky above the clearing was streaked with pink and violet in the west, and the encroaching indigo of night and flickering stars in the east. Their entrance caused an immediate buzz. Soon surrounded and fending off demands for explanation, Lena refused to stop until she could lay the stretcher as close to the central fire as she dared. It hadn't long been stoked and fresh logs cracked and spat boiling sap. Lena kept silent until approached by her mentor, Josta, who wore an expression of intense disquiet----her greying brows knitted together. She drew Lena aside and bent her head close to the younger woman's ear. "What is the meaning of this?" "I found him," Lena replied, keeping her shoulders back and her spine as rigid as possible in the face of the hostile regard directed upon her from nearly every other woman in camp. "He's wounded. He needs help." Cursed Ch. 01 Josta's hand slipped around her shoulder and tightened a fraction in warning. "You're not a child, Lena. Don't be obtuse. This isn't just another wounded bird you've found." During the arduous trek back to camp Lena had prepared what she hoped was a good defence. Righteous indignation had fired her imagination but now she grew uncertain. "Every creature has a place in the heart of Junen. Isn't that what you taught me?" Before Josta could answer she rushed on. "And wounded ones even more so. Even men." "Who is he? Where does he hail from?" "I-I'm not sure. He's been unconscious for the most part." "For the most part? So he was awake at some point?" "Barely. Only enough to take a little water. He was in too much pain to tell me anything of himself." "And where did you find him?" Lena bit her lip, and decided to err on the side of caution. "Near the Great Oak." It wasn't a lie; it just wasn't the whole truth. She scrunched her toes up in her boots and her gaze flickered to the man on the ground. "I-I should really see to him." "In a minute. He has survived this long." Josta took a deep breath and exhaled. "And what do you propose to do with him?" "Make him well, of course." "Of course." The ironical remark didn't escape Lena. "And then what?" Lena hesitated. She hadn't thought that far ahead. Josta read her expression accurately, as she always did. "You're so naïve, girl." "I couldn't just leave him there!" Lena's voice rose a little higher but as Josta's grip tightened she checked herself. "What would you wish his fate to be?" Josta pressed. "Once you've mended him." "H-he can go back to where he came from." "And in the meantime are you prepared to take responsibility for his welfare?" "Of course." "You do realise humans are far more complicated than animals, even wounded ones. He might seem harmless now, but--" "I don't think he would do any harm," Lena rushed. "You don't know anything about him." "He has a good spirit." She wasn't sure how she knew; it was just an intense feeling. "What if you're wrong? I have to consider the wellbeing of the Priory." "You have my word." "But I don't have his, and that's something you cannot give me." Anger simmered in Lena's chest. "What would you have me do, carry him back to where I found him?" Josta fixed her steely eyes on Lena. "Your dedication is commendable. I just want you to think for a change instead of charging off on another well-meant crusade. Your actions have consequences for all of us. Remember the abandoned wolf cub?" Lena's heart sank. She might have guessed Josta would bring that up. "Yes." "Remember what I told you about inherently wild animals?" Lena dropped her gaze to Josta's boots. "Yes." "And still you begged me to let you take care of it. You promised me you'd take full responsibility for the beast." Lena's head flew up. "I did!" Josta dropped her hand on Lena's shoulder. "Right up until it chewed through its leash and killed all the chickens." "You can't compare a man to a wolf." "Can't I? How can you be sure? You have a very narrow view of what creatures populate this realm. You'd do well to exercise caution rather than rushing headlong into a situation you know little about. That's what being a member of the Priory means. Sisterhood. We work together for a singular cause, not for ourselves. It concerns me that after all this time, and all my efforts, on the inside you still feel like an abandoned child who needs to gather a family about her. We are your family, if you but knew it." Humility stole in to replace the defensive anger in Lena's heart. "I'm sorry, I just didn't know what else to do. He might die." "He might. And if he does it will be Junen's will." "Then why did She let me find him? Me, of all people? She must have known how I'd react." "Lena, part of growing up means learning not to give in to every whim of our own nature. Did you ever consider She might have been testing you? I say again, you're not a child. How many times will I have to point these things out to you?" Lena stared at the leafy ground as a lump of emotion formed in her throat. Her cheeks grew hot but the rest of her body felt suddenly chilled. "You think it's really a test?" Her voice came out as a hoarse whisper. "I don't know. All I'm saying is you need to examine the facts, and question yourself, not everyone around you, and certainly not Junen. But for now you've started something and you must see it through." Josta steered her back towards the group. Without further prompting Lena sank down beside the unconscious man. Eula brought her a bowl of warmed water and a wry smile. "I thought you might want this to steep your herbs in." Lena thanked her and began digging through her pouch but nothing in it would be sufficient to deal with the arrow wound. She did have a few other things in the kit she kept in camp, adequate for the lesser gashes on his torso. And she had a vial of valerian to keep him sleeping at least. Hurrying to her bedroll, she fetched the items she needed and rushed back. Over her shoulder she heard one of the Elders arguing heatedly with Josta. Ignoring them, her gaze skated over her patient's bloodied body, but soon grew engrossed by the tone of his muscles and the hair on his face and lower abdomen in the shifting light of the fire. The term man had been used from the outset but she hadn't really considered what that meant until now. There were men in the nearby village, but they were age-worn. All the younger ones drifted off to more exciting lives in the bigger towns, and few returned. The women of the Priory were hard-muscled from physical work, but slender with it, and still with a faint softness about them. Lena wasn't used to such abundant, vital masculinity. Butterflies fluttered in her belly and she snapped her attention back to her work as the argument behind her grew louder. "We cannot have a man in our midst," Nerris growled. "It is Moontime!" "I'm aware of that, but he's unconscious," Josta replied in a tight voice, her patience clearly wearing thin. "What would you have us do----leave him in the forest for the wolves to dine on? Or throw him in the river for the harritch?" "You're being simplistic. Where is your commonsense?" "Where is your humanity?" Josta fired back. "He needs help." Nerris thudded the butt of her spear into the ground. "We have a duty to the Goddess----vows that ought not be forgotten, for good reason!" "One of our duties is to protect the weak. Have you forgotten that?" Relieved to hear her mentor defending her, Lena shut out their voices and picked up the man's wrist to check his pulse. It nudged weakly against the pads of her fingers. She was so caught up in her examination when a hand touched her shoulder she jumped almost guiltily. "What is his condition?" Josta asked. Lena's eyes flickered to Nerris, whose cheeks were a livid shade of red, then back to Josta. "He's alive, but he's lost a great deal of blood and I'm sure his leg must be suppurating under that bandage." "What can you do for him?" "Here? Not much. I only have a few basic medicines ready to use with me. His leg needs proper attention. The arrow is buried deep and must come out." "If you leave him as he is what will happen?" Lena looked down at him dubiously. "Blood poisoning, most likely, followed by a painful death." A chill shivered through her even speaking the words. "All the better if he does die," Nerris snapped. "The little fool should never have brought him here." Josta rubbed the bridge of her nose. "We are human, above all else, and so is he. It's our duty to--" "Our duty is to Junen, and to the women of the Priory, not to random men this fool trips over in the woods." Lena felt scalded by Nerris's criticism. "And what of charity?" Josta pressed. "What of our work in Caldey? Should that finish?" "No, of course not." "But surely that would also make us vulnerable to temptation? Yet still we make the journey to town and do what we can to help men and women alike." "That's different and you know it." "How?" "We go to them...we don't invite temptation to dine with us at our own hearth, where we are most vulnerable." Nerris lowered her voice. "Bring him back to the Priory and you jeopardize what we've spent so long protecting." "The man is at death's door. He might not even make the journey back to the village, in which case your fears will be unfounded. But should he survive I have faith in all our women to remain vigilant." "So do I, but I have no faith in any man----dying or otherwise. They are born predators and want only one thing. He must be left here to face his fate. It is an ill wind that has blown him to us." This was directed pointedly at Lena. Josta stared at Nerris for a long time. Part of her face was in shadows, the other half glowing in the firelight. Lena could see by the flicker of a muscle in her jaw she was struggling to hold tightly to her temper. Finally she spoke. "If Junen had intended him to be left, She would not have put him in Lena's path." "It's a test!" Nerris stormed. "Can't you see?" Lena felt obliged to interrupt and stood. "If we don't do something soon he'll die." Nerris's head whipped around and her eyes flashed with anger. Stepping towards Lena she stopped inches away. Her body radiated angry heat. "Who are you to speak out of turn, novice?" "Leave the girl be," Josta cautioned. "She's only doing her job." "I will not be lectured by a pup." Lena restrained her own temper with difficulty. The man had clearly been in this state for days. If they didn't act immediately he would perish and something in her baulked at the thought of such a waste. She ached to push Nerris away, to shout back at her, but one glance at Josta made her stifle the urge. The warning in the other woman's steely eyes was clear. This was all a result of her own actions and she must bear it with fortitude. Lena hung her head though her toes curled in her boots with the unfairness of it. "I apologise." "As well you should," came the tart reply. "You tread on thin ice as it is." Lena flushed and her hands clenched into fists at the reference to the reprimand Nerris had given her the day before for being late to Even Prayers. The older woman had been incensed by Lena's late arrival and hadn't given her a chance to explain that she'd been harvesting a rare and valuable herb that would be to the benefit of all the women of the Priory during their bleeding times. She'd been lost in her task and overlooked the time. "Enough," Josta said, stepping between them. "I will not have this descend into a slanging match. We're going back to the Priory, tonight, and we're taking him with us." Nerris blinked in surprise. "What of Even Prayers?" "I'm not going to stand here arguing the point with you all day. We're breaking camp and he's coming with us. I won't leave him here to die." "Nothing you've said convinces me this is anything other than madness," Nerris replied frostily. "But I can see you've made up your mind to support the little fool at the Priory's expense. It will just have to be brought up at the next Council of Elders." Nerris spun on her heel and stalked away, followed by a number of other women----her loyal supporters. Josta turned back to Lena, tight-lipped. "Will he survive the journey?" Lena ran a hand through her short, curling brown hair. "He's very weak. Maybe if we build a proper stretcher and he didn't get jostled too much." Snapping her fingers Josta gathered a small group of the women who had not retreated with Nerris, and directed them to do as Lena required. Cursed Ch. 02 Chapter Two The Priory of Junen Anteran Three hours later the unconscious man was transferred onto the smooth wooden table in the small thatched hut Lena shared with Eula. Merryl and Karina left immediately without speaking. Trying to shut out their strained faces from her mind, Lena struck a fire in the hearth at the centre of the cool, dark hut, feeding the flames with dry kindling. When it was blazing with reassuring heat she lit as many candles as she could find, while Eula fetched water from the well. The hunting trip hadn't been a complete washout; Lena had managed to harvest a number of crucial herbs and while they steeped she mixed a poultice in advance for her patient's thigh. When Eula returned with the small cauldron of water, Lena was examining the man's worst wound. She peered over Lena's shoulder and wrinkled her nose at the filthy wadding around the broken arrow. "Eesh, what a mess." "I know. I'm almost scared to look." "Have you seen anything worse? I don't think I have. Except maybe when Iyllia stood on that barb last summer and it turned into an abscess. Remember?" "I'm not likely to forget. I had to drain it three times a day for a week." Lena gingerly plucked at the grubby bandage. "Whoever did this almost did a good job. Shame it wasn't clean. At least they had the sense to leave the arrow in. He might have bled to death otherwise." Her first task was to remove the tourniquet. She tutted in frustration. "It's set solid." With a sharp knife she gently sliced through the inches of matted material until at last it cracked apart. Both women jerked back, gasping sharply in unison. Eula grimaced. "Maybe I'll burn some safar oil. He's a little ripe." Lena gave a rueful smile at the understatement. "Good idea." She hardly dared look too closely at the wound at first, fearing what she would find, but after rinsing away the caked blood saw with immense relief it wasn't as bad as she'd dreaded––a little red, but not yet seeping. The tourniquet had been tight enough to keep filth at bay. But there was no denying an arrowhead was not a sanitary object. Junen knew what evils lurked beneath the surface. Soon the welcome scent of safar wafted past her nose. "Oh, Eula, that helps." Eula returned to the table still with a frown of discomfort furrowing her brow. "Not much. What a rotten stench." "I know, but it's mostly the bandage." She held up the offending material. "Let me take that. I'll burn it outside." Pinching her nose, Eula disappeared outside with the bundle held at arm's length. With the bandage removed the air was noticeably improved. Lena cut the man's leggings off. They were soiled beyond repair anyway and she had to make sure there weren't any hidden wounds about his person. His genitals lay inert and innocuous in a nest of dark curls. It wasn't the first she'd seen in her life; most recently she'd tended Caldey's baker for the furuncle he'd developed in his groin. She'd behaved with perfunctory courtesy. But then Doran Malwand was as doughy as the bread he baked. It was easy for Lena to tend him with professional disinterest. The man lying here on her table begged to be looked at. Under the grime and dried blood he was a beautiful specimen––fit and lean, except for powerfully muscular thighs. A horseman, she guessed, and shivered at the thought of the beasts he'd controlled with a squeeze of his muscles. Butterflies fluttered for a moment in her belly, and with a small frown at the direction of her thoughts, she set the image aside, covering his groin with a cloth and going through the mental list of tasks she must perform. A low groan rumbled through the man's chest and his cracked lips parted. Dismayed to see him waking already, Lena scurried to find some valerian to help him sleep. She returned just as his lids began to flicker open revealing pain-veiled eyes. He stared at Lena. "Y-you came back." Some unseen muscle twitched in his body making him gasp and in reflex grip her arm with surprising strength. "Hush. You're safe now. But I need to give you this so I can deal with your leg." She held up the stubby bottle of viscous fluid. Panic replaced the pain in his eyes. "D-don't take my leg!" He tried to rise up but groaned and slumped back, his hand going to his head. "It's all right, I'm just taking the arrow out, nothing more." Uncorking the valerian she poured some onto a wooden spoon and held it close to his lips. "Here, this will help." To her alarm he pressed his lips together and shook his head. "I'm going to hurt you...a lot. I can't have you moving about." He shook his head again and remained tight-lipped. Lena pulled back with the spoon. "Why won't you take it?" He regarded her with a wary eye in case she meant to trick him into opening his mouth. "I-Ib preber to b-be awake," he mumbled through almost closed lips. "If it was me I'd want to be asleep." "I d-dob want to wake ub w-wibout a leg." Lena's heart gave a squeeze of sympathy. "You have my word, you'll keep your leg." "R-really?" She made the sign of Junen across her breast. "On my life." Then she held up the spoon with an encouraging smile. He hesitated, even more pale than he had been, but after another agonising twinge that made sweat bead on his grimy forehead he finally conceded and opened his mouth. Lena passed the spoon between his lips and gulped as they closed over the small scoop. She'd never noticed before how intimate an act it was to feed someone when they were as helpless as he was. By the time Eula returned the man was asleep again. "What can I do?" she asked. "Keep an eye on him. If he shows any sign of waking, let me know." Eula pulled up a stool and focused intently on the man's face. "Who do you think he is? A soldier? He looks fit enough to be one. He had no uniform though." Or he discarded it, Lena thought. "Anything is possible." "He hardly looks dangerous though. Don't you think? I don't know what all the fuss is about." Lena wasn't so sure. She'd felt singularly not herself from the moment she set eyes on the man and she had no explanation. Why did her hands linger on his skin as if she took as much pleasure from touching him as she might from being touched? An image popped into her head of what it might feel like to be touched by him, and she shivered. Why did she keep looking at his face, which in repose and despite the beard revealed him to be younger than she thought, maybe about her own age, or a year or two younger? Not dangerous? She was beginning to understand Josta's reservations, and Nerris's for that matter. She couldn't help her cheeks growing warm and fired a nervous glance at Eula to make sure her thoughts weren't too visible, but her friend was concentrating equally hard on their patient. "He might not be dangerous now, but who knows what he's like when he's well? He could be a monster." Eula gave a doubtful smile. "You think?" Feeling strangely lightheaded and shaky, Lena latched on to Josta's advice as a means to keeping herself on the straight and narrow. "I'm just saying we don't know anything about him." "He's very handsome." "Compared to who?" Eula flickered a look at Lena with a questioning raise of an eyebrow. "Have you seen a man more comely?" Lena peered closely at the protruding arrow trying to decide how to attack it but felt her cheeks grow hotter and was grateful for the dim light. "Can't say as I noticed." Eula made a small scoffing sound. "So why is he here?" Pausing for a moment Lena met Eula's look with a small frown. "To be healed of course." "Would you have been so intent on rescuing him if he looked like the baker?" Discomforted that Eula had come so unwittingly close to echoing her own thoughts, Lena frowned. "Doran is a very nice man." Eula snorted again. "You're a terrible liar. You always have been." "I need to concentrate now. This is going to be tricky." That was no lie. Working quickly and calmly she made incisions around the wound and began to edge the barb out. The delicate work took a great deal of concentration and thoughts of the man's appearance drifted to the back of her mind. When she finally dropped the bloodied arrow on the table Lena breathed a sigh of relief. "He's lucky," she said, "it didn't hit anything vital." "Nice work," Eula remarked with open admiration. "How is he?" "Fine. Still out cold." "Good, on the shelf there's a small bottle with red liquid in it...just to the left, could I have it, please?" Eula fetched the bottle and passed it over. She picked up the arrow, squinting at it as she turned it over in her hand. "Well, if he is a soldier he's not an enemy of Anteran." Lena didn't know as much about weaponry as her friend. Different mentors concentrated on instilling different skills in their novices. Eula was a novice hunter and knew a great deal about weapons and the like. "No?" "Anteran soldiers don't use longbows, they use crossbows." "Oh?" Lena remembered the Faerie's protestation of innocence. "Is it a Faerie arrow?" Eula peered at the iron tip. "No. And the workmanship isn't very good. Most regular smithies would take more pride in their craft. Whoever made this didn't give a damn. They just wanted to churn out something capable of killing or maiming." The two women looked at each other. "Cathasian," they said together. Lena looked at the man with no small amount of relief. If he was an enemy of Cathas he was likely a friend of theirs. She would have mended a Cathasian as well as anyone else, but the ramifications for the Priory if they were found to be harbouring an enemy of the territory would be huge. Flushing the wound with the contents of the bottle she pointed to her workbench. "Grab those flat tongs for me please? Hold them like so." Eula held the wound together with the tongs as Lena made a series of holes along the torn edges of skin with the point of a blade. Then she threaded a bone needle with linen cord and stitched the wound. After tying a neat knot at the end of the row she sluiced the wound again, this time with a salt solution, then stood back. "It's good," announced Eula, examining the stitching, "some of your best." "Tell me that in a day or two when he keeps his leg." With Eula's assistance she dealt with the lesser gashes across the young man's torso and arms, at the same time thinking about what her friend had said. He was comely, possessed of a tightly muscled body harking to years of hard, physical training. There wasn't an ounce of spare flesh on him. She had to pause for a moment to still the trembling of her hand, wondering if contrary to the standing joke she really had caught a cold during the hunting trip. It was the only explanation for her current, almost fevered, condition. It wasn't like her at all to be so nervy, not when it came to the business of healing. When she finally finished it was well into the small hours of the morning. She applied a poultice to the man's thigh and covered him with a pelt. "I think we've earned a rest." Retiring to the hearth both women sank down––relieved to finally put their feet up. It had been an incredibly long day and night. "Thanks for your help tonight," Lena murmured. "You're welcome, but I hope not to have to do that for a while," Eula said, stifling a yawn. Her eyelids were drooping. Just then Josta entered the hut. When both girls jumped up she patted the air. "Sit." Her keen gaze shifted to the patient on the table. "How is he?" "If we can stave off inflammation he may survive," Lena answered. "Did you learn his name?" Lena mentally kicked herself for the basic oversight. "He was awake for a short time but very distressed. I didn't think to quiz him." "Never mind. And how long do you think before he can walk?" Clearly the priesta felt eager to see the man on his way. "His leg will take some time to mend, but he seems strong and healthy. I'd say in a week, maybe two, he could travel with the aid of a crutch." "Days will be bad enough," Josta said with a sigh. "I'll have a hard time justifying weeks." "If he survives that long," Lena remarked. Josta rested her hand on Lena's shoulder and squeezed. "I'll go to the temple and pray for a speedy recovery." With that she ducked back out of the hut. "Doesn't she ever sleep?" Eula asked, yawning again. "Not much." Seeing how tired the other girl was, Lena stifled a yawn of her own. "I'll make up a pallet by the fire. If you can help me carry him down I'll sit with him to make sure he doesn't take a fever and you can go to bed." Once the man was resting in the little bed Lena fixed for him, Euna retreated to her own cot on the other side of the hut while Lena sat down next to her patient. She touched her palm to his forehead, relieved to feel it was cool and dry, and let her hand linger to brush a strand of hair away but snatched it back when he opened his eyes. For some reason she felt guilty, as though she'd been caught doing something she shouldn't. But she was only tending a patient, like she would any other. "Hello," she murmured. The closer to consciousness he rose, the more clarity his bright eyes took on, like an oil lamp being turned up. His hand went straight away to pat down the pelt and he relaxed when he felt the reassuring lump of his limb. "I told you all would be well. How do you feel?" He licked his lips and Lena at once brought a cup of water to his mouth. When he'd taken a few small sips he sighed. "Like I've been trampled by a herd of oxen." His voice was rough with dehydration and disuse. "Stranger things have happened in these parts." He snorted and winced. Lena helped him drink more water again then put the cup to one side. "What is your name, sir?" she asked, remembering Josta's imperative but wanting to know more for her own need than anything else. She didn't want to keep referring to him as the man, or the soldier. Opening his mouth to speak, he hesitated. "Uh..." It took Lena a moment to realise the significance. Seeing his confusion she touched his shoulder. "It's of little note. You've had a great deal of valerian today, and suffered a lot of pain." A crease deepened between his brows. "But my name. I know it...it's..." He rubbed his furrowed forehead. "It's..." "No matter," Lena assured him. "It's not unusual to feel confused, especially after a blow to the head. You've quite an egg there. Doubtless you'll feel better in the morning. Don't worry about it too much." He lay quietly for a few moments, still frowning. "Y-you're the one who found me in the woods," he said at last. "That's right." "Where am I?" "You're a guest of the Priory of Junen, near the village of Caldey, in Anteran," she prompted, seeing no hint of recognition in his face. His hand clenched into a fist. "It's on the tip of my tongue..." She tried to distract him. "I'm Lena." She pointed into the shadowy corner where Eula lay snoring already. She was a famously heavy sleeper. "My friend, Eula, helped mend you as well." His gaze slipped sideways following her hand. "You know a lot about healing, Lena." She made a face. "I wish I knew more. Unfortunately I'm a slave to time as much as the next person. I'm learning to be patient." His mouth twisted into a wry smile. "I have a feeling I'm not a patient man." Suddenly his long fingers closed over hers. "Thank you for helping me. I thought I was going to die. Those men...they didn't look right." Surprised by the passion of his admission, and disconcerted by the unaccustomed intimacy with a man, she disengaged her hand and clasped it in her lap as goose bumps stippled across her arms. "You don't have to thank me. It's my job. And they weren't men, they were Faeries." His lips crooked into a faint smile. "Is something funny?" Lena asked, bemused. "I must be drugged. I thought you said those men were Faeries." "I did. They were." He scoffed, and winced again. "That's ridiculous. There's no such thing as Faeries." "You said yourself they didn't look right." "I know, but I meant they didn't look like..." He was having difficulty following his own logic. "Faeries are like dragons. They're myths designed to make children behave." "Every bedtime story has an ounce or so of truth in it. They were definitely Faerie-folk, and you're fortunate they didn't decide to punish you for being on their land. They aren't always so accommodating." He was quiet for a time. When he spoke again his voice was low. "Whoever they were, if you hadn't found me I'd be dead. I owe you my life." Lena had no argument. He very likely would have died. He still could. "Hush, don't dwell on it. You're safe now." Her hand slipped over of its own accord and stroked his cheek. If he hadn't had the strength to call out she might never have stumbled upon him. Thinking of him lying cold and lifeless in the bracken sent a chill through her blood. "Shall I give you something for the pain? It will help you sleep." He didn't need it. He'd drifted off of his own accord. ******* Lena started awake with a curse. She'd nodded off beside her patient with her head on her arm and it had gone to sleep. Shaking the numb, useless limb until the flashing pain of pins and needles heralded a return of circulation she saw the fire had reduced to black embers and a faint, watery light filtered through the door. It was nearly dawn. A moan drew her attention. The man's cheeks were flushed and hot to the touch, yet he shivered. "Bloody moon." Lena scrambled to the pantry to rummage through the jars, so focused she forgot to apologise to Junen for swearing. Blue Bramble oil. Where in the blazes of death was it? She knew she had some somewhere. When her hand fell on the familiar jar her heart thudded in relief. Praise Junen! He growled when she pushed back the pelt and began smoothing the cool oil onto his body. His skin burned under her hands. She cursed herself again for sleeping as his damp head tossed fitfully back and forth in discomfort and he fought to snatch the cover back. "I'm sorry," she murmured, knocking back his hands and working the unctuous oil into his chest, "I know you feel cold but this will help." She swallowed hard feeling the tight points of his nipples sliding under her palms. It was an outrage, she thought, that she should take any physical pleasure from tending to him. She resolved to visit the temple at the first opportunity and beg forgiveness. A scuffling noise behind her made her look around as Eula got up from her cot and shuffled across the room, rubbing her eyes. "How is he?" "Fevered," Lena replied. "Damn. Can I do anything?" "Pray." "I'm going to Morn Prayers now. I take it you'll stay here?" "I can't leave him like this." "Of course. I'll tell Josta." With shaking, oily hands Lena screwed the lid back on the jar and sat back, cursing again her inattention. It would be full daylight before she knew if she'd arrested the fever in time. She stoked the fire. In a short time the dawn chorus would begin and Morn Prayers would commence. All the priestae and novices would be gathered at the temple. No doubt Nerris would note her absence and mark another black strike against her name. Right now she didn't care. Nerris could whistle. She returned to her vigil. There was no law to say she couldn't praise Junen from where she sat. Raising her eyes to the thatched ceiling she spoke quietly. "Blessed Mother of the forest, You sent him here to us, and I wouldn't question Your motives, but I beg for a sign of some sort...anything to guide me. What would You have me do?" She waited, holding her breath, but no sign came. Idiot. What were you expecting, a thunderclap from the sky? As if the Great Mother would waste Her time talking to a novice, and a failing one at that! She sent him here and need not explain Herself to the likes of you. Cursed Ch. 02 The birds continued chattering, a goat bleated in the distance––udder full and yearning to be milked. The priestae would be back soon to complete their chores. Sighing, Lena moved to perform her toilet, stripping off her soiled vest and washing herself in the basin on the bench, cringing as the cool water tightened her nipples. At the same time she kept glancing over her shoulder to make sure the patient was asleep, feeling self-conscious in her skin in a way she hadn't in a long time. There was never a need for modesty amongst the other women. Yet here was a man and suddenly she had to be careful of herself. She pushed down her breeches and dealt speedily with her lower half. Keeping an eye on the slumbering man she retrieved clean clothes and quickly dressed. Then she threw herself into her chores as a distraction. Josta ducked in through the door just as Lena finished cleaning the room. "How is he? Eula said something about a fever?" "I think I caught it in time." Josta crouched down next to the man, sniffing the air. "Bramble oil. Good work." Lena prepared the older woman a mug of tea, which she accepted, joining her at the freshly scrubbed table. "Mmm, just what I needed, thank you." "I asked him his name," Lena said. "Oh?" "He couldn't remember it, or anything else, in fact. I wondered if it might be the lump on the back of his head." "A lump?" Josta drummed her fingers on the tabletop. "Hmm, that is a problem. I've only seen it once before. The memory came back in fits and starts over a period of months." Her lips thinned. "I'll never convince the Council to let him stay that long. You'll have to concentrate on getting him mobile. We'll decide what to do after that. At the worst he can work for my sister's husband in the village until he regains his senses." They sat silently for a time but the air between them felt tense to Lena, as though Josta wanted to speak. They'd spent so much time together over the years she could sense when her mentor was troubled. "Was Nerris very cross I wasn't there this morning?" The crow's feet at the corners of Josta's eyes deepened. "I've seen her happier." "What can she do?" "Here, nothing more than burn my ears with her moans. But if she takes her grievances to the Council of Elders I could be in for a rough ride. Allowing a man into the village during Moontime could arguably justify my expulsion from the Order." "What?" Josta patted the air. "Be calm. I've been thinking about it and you were quite right; we had no choice but to take him in. The idea is not to allow him to linger." She looked pointedly at Lena. "I understand." "Good. I knew you would." Josta drained her mug. "I just wanted to check how you were. I'd rather keep visitors to a minimum. Don't want to provoke Nerris. The entire Priory is buzzing like a beehive with the idea of a man in our midst. Do you need anything before I go? Is there anything you wanted to talk to me about?" For a second Lena opened her mouth to speak then snapped it shut. She'd been about to ask Josta's opinion on the way she was feeling about the man but something made her keep her own counsel. Josta might arrange to have him removed. "No. I'm fine." Josta studied her carefully. "You know you can always talk to me." "Yes, I know." Lena watched the older woman go and for a moment wanted to cry out that she stay, feeling uncertain and afraid. Come on, grow up. She's always telling you you're not a child. Try acting like it for a change. Forcing aside her misgivings she set about making a broth but soon after she began a strange prickling sensation made her look around and suck in a sharp breath. Nerris stood inside the doorway of the hut. The cold expression on the older woman's face made Lena's skin tighten. Nerris's flinty gaze remained glued to the sleeping man. "He lives then?" "It was a close thing but I think he'll make it." Nerris crossed and hunkered down next him. "More's the pity. Junen might have been appeased if he'd died. As it is we can be sure of a catastrophe." "I'm sure Junen will rejoice in the giving spirit of Her servants." Nerris looked around sharply. "Who are you to lecture me on our gracious Goddess? You might be a healer but you are yet a novice, and a poor one at that. I noticed your absence at Morn Prayer." Lena's cheeks grew hot. "He took a fever. I had to sit with him." "He has only been here a few hours and already the correct order of things is suffering. And you can ill afford to slip further." Nerris huffed and turned her attention back to the man. "I don't see what all the fuss is about. One less man in the world can't be a bad thing." Like a cat on hot coals Lena hovered ready to pounce should the older woman do anything to harm her patient. He stirred then and groaned, prompting Lena to shift in front of Nerris and tug the skins up to his chin. "If he's to get well he must be left to rest." Nerris's eyes narrowed but she said nothing as she stood up and stared hard at Lena. Without another word she left the hut. Her departure caused Lena to breathe a deep sigh of relief until a noise made her look around to see the man weakly casting back the covers. "Stop!" "I shouldn't be here." He tried to roll onto his side to stand but came out in a sweat and grew pale. "I should go." "You must lie down. Your body is still in shock. You had a fever." Lena touched his shoulder but barely had to apply any pressure to make him sink back against the pallet. "How long have you been awake?" "Long enough to know I'm only causing trouble here." "Oh pay no heed to that old witch." Lena tucked the goatskin around him with brisk efficiency. "She's hard to please at the best of times." He fired her an agonised look. "I still don't know my name." Lena rested her hand on his arm. "You will." "How can you be so sure?" "The other case we know of was healed in time." "Really?" He appeared to take some consolation from that. "How long did they have this...condition?" Lena thought about telling him what Josta had told her, but decided it wouldn't benefit his healing. "A month." "A month?" He looked aghast. "I can't stay here that long!" "You won't. As soon as your leg heals my mentor has a safe place you can go to in the nearest village until you recover your memory." He absorbed this information silently and soberly. ****** When the broth was ready Lena filled a bowl and let it cool. Then she sat down next to her patient. "Here, try a little of this." "Have you always been a healer?" he asked after a few mouthfuls, having to lie back and rest from the effort. "I'm not a healer yet, I'm a novice with some knowledge of herbs and I can stomach the sight of blood. A healer in training, if you like." "A novice...is that like a nun?" "Sort of. But we worship Junen, no other gods." "Junen?" "You might know her as Mother Nature." Understanding washed over his face, followed by a grimace. "Why do I know some things, and not others?" "The mind is a curious thing." She noticed him bite his lip. "Still in pain? Come on, you don't have to be brave with me." He exhaled a deep breath through gritted teeth. "A little." Sensing this admission was only partly the truth, and admiring his stoicism, Lena began stroking his face with a cloth soaked in a tincture of valerian. "This should help." It seemed to. The exertion of trying to get up had put him to sleep again. Seeing him so vulnerable caused a sudden unfurling of tenderness in her breast. Eula arrived back at that moment. "How is he?" "Better, I think." "Good. Shall I do your chores for you?" Lena knew she needed to get herself back together, get some routine back in her life before she completely lost perspective. She felt like she'd suddenly walked into sinking sand. Something was dragging her down, and the scariest thing was she wanted to give herself up to it. Whatever 'it' was. "I need to collect some herbs anyway. Perhaps if you could sit with him? Give him a drink if he wakes up. Just little sips." "Rightio." Standing outside the hut Lena felt a tug of reluctance to leave, but after a few deep breaths forced herself to head in the direction of the garden. After an hour of weeding Lena's basket was full of fresh herbs. The physical activity had helped ease some of the tension in her body. She straightened and stretched as thudding footsteps made her look over her shoulder. Eula skidded to a halt, cheeks blazing red. "Come quick! It's Nerris!"