Scars of the Past
SCARS OF THE PAST
Amirah skips through the woods, her hair swaying to and fro like silky wisps of golden grass. Emerging blossoms waken her senses. Excitement flows through her veins. Tiny finches dart in and out of budding branches and sing of new beginnings. Sounds of the rushing stream cascading over and around the rocks cause her to slow down to a curiously quiet pace. Aromas of earth and pine fill her nostrils. Moving cautiously towards a small opening in the bush, she makes a conscious effort to stop her eager heart from beating so loudly. She inhales a large deep breath and lets it out as slowly and silently as she can. Her stomach plays little games of flip flop when she sees him through the opening.
He’s been waiting for her. This is the right place and soon the moment will come, but for now he must leave her longing for him if his plan is to work. His acquaintance with her has been deliberate and measured. Her youthfulness ripened like tender fruit since he chose her. He cups his hands together in the stream and lifts them dripping to his open mouth. Water droplets trickle down his chin and back into the flowing water. Slowly he rises from a crouched position and angles himself just enough to display several lines and curves of a strong muscular body. He pulls his shirt over his head then mounts his steel grey mare. He gazes momentarily in her direction pretending not to notice her.
“Hyaaah,hyaaah” he commands and rides off.
Amirah maneuvers herself towards a large smooth flat rock protruding towards the center of the stream. She lies down and closes her eyes to the blue transparent sky and day dreams about the water trickling down Abaddon’s chin. The warmth of the rock seeps into her back while cool water laps and swirls below her. She leans over the rock and places her hand in the stream of flowing water, “What knowledge and secrets do you hold from your journey that you whisper to me so softly?”
Her hair tumbles over her shoulders as she bends downwards capturing the crystal clear water in a bucket. A deep thirst swells inside of her. She lifts the bucket to her lips, closes her eyes, and lets the cool water spill into her mouth.
Her eyes open and she’s startled by Abaddon standing in front of her. The bucket slips from her hands and falls onto the rock and rolls downwards into the stream. The current quickly carries it away. Abaddon jumps in after it and brings it back to her. She can’t help but notice how his moist flesh glistens in the sun. His eyes, intense and dark, stare momentarily, then lock her blue eyes with his. Saying nothing, he hands her the bucket, smiles, mounts his mare and rides away again leaving Amirah to her own desires. She wonders why he returned and left without talking awhile.
Days pass and she yearns to see him again, then one day she hears his voice from behind, “This is a place we both favor.”
”A place to be favored, or a place to quench one’s thirst?”
“What is it you thirst for?” he asks flirtatiously lifting her hand to his lips.
“I thirst for nothing but water to quench the dryness of my throat.”
“Perhaps it’s water you need to quench your fire?”
“Dare you speak of such things!”
He laughs haughtily as she scrambles to her feet only to stumble upon a rock and fall into his arms.
His deep dark eyes hold her captive then slowly glide down towards her lips for a moment then return her to captivity. Her body trembles. Her acute awareness of his strength holding her makes her intensely sensitive to the fact that she wants nothing more than to fall captive into his arms.
Suddenly, a loud screeching cry of a jay breaks the momentary silence as it does Abaddon’s grip. Amirah regains composure, grabs her bucket, and hastily moves towards home completely aware of how close she is to abandoning common sense and any suitable manner of behavior.
Time and time again Abaddon sweeps Amirah off her feet in a whirlwind of his charms. He showers her with attention, flattery, and compliments. He touches her in the right way and pays attention to every word that comes out of her mouth. He is entertaining, fascinating, and simply irresistible. He makes everything appear delightful in her eyes.
Over and over again he captivates her with his tales of personal burdens. He tells her about his struggle with his brother who seized his rightful place in Castargan and forced him and his soldiers out. Amirah sympathizes with his tales of injustice.
Amirah is obsessed with thoughts of Abaddon by day and by night her dreams are invaded by him. and wonders why he never stays long or comes into the village. She yearns for him relentlessly.
In the early spring of the second year after he first caught site of her, Abaddon waits for her to return to the stream.
“Amirah, I must return home. I am needed there. I have been away too long.”
“Will you come back?”
“I can not return for many years, come with me.”
“What of my family?”
“There is no time. We must go now. Amirah, I need you. Please, come with me.”
Amirah struggles with the fight that goes on inside of her. There is no time to say goodbye to her family and village friends, but if he leaves without her, all her happiness and joy leave with him. Amirah shuts off her nagging internal voices and runs towards him as he casts his hand down towards hers. He grasps her hand strongly in his and then, with a burst of strength, he pulls her onto the mare behind him. He digs his heels into the horse’s flanks fairly aggressively and commands, “Hyaaah! Hyaaah!” The mare breaks into a full gallop.
After a three days ride they stop for the night at Bodger’s Inn. Amirah desires a good meal and a warm bed after sleeping on cold damp ground the last two nights.
At the rear of the inn, Abaddon dismounts sliding Amirah down beside him.
The stable boy takes the horses reigns and leads the mare to the last of the six stalls.
“Fodder and rest for the eve sir?"
“Rest her well boy!”
Abaddon tosses the boy a gold dram as he walks through the stables and the back entrance into the blacksmith shop.
“Check the mare’s shoes in the morning.”
The blacksmith spins around on his heels appearing annoyed with Abaddon’s interruption. On the way out, Amirah glances at the old wooden sign creaking in the wind with its faded and crackled paint: tools, shoeing, repairs and almost anything a guest requires. The black silhouette of a poultry house illustrates a deathlike silence like the one that comes after the slaughter.
Amirah listens to the patrons carousing inside Bodger’s Inn. Thriving within its walls are seditious associations that take place between spies, assassins, pickpockets, and black mages. Ear piercing laughter of destitute barmaids and thunderous ranting of corrupt men with their vulgar tales both sicken and frighten her. Shivers from the cold dampness of her clothing and hunger persuade her to surrender to the candles beckoning to her in the windows with their waving orange lights. Perhaps after a nights rest and regained strength she will not feel so uneasy.
Amirah enters the Inn and quickly moves towards the seat nearest the stone fireplace even though she knows that the roaring fire will soon be too warm. A spit with meat roasts slowly over the fire forcing her to notice the grumbling in her stomach. Low rafters dangle with dried bunches of garlic braids and onions. An oil lamp hangs from the ceiling in an attempt to cast more light amongst the flickering shadows. Scents of roasting mutton, pork, fish, and rabbit purchased from local villagers waft in from the kitchen and mingle with stale ale, cider, the cheap perfumes of the bar maids, and the sweat of weary travelers. Nausea almost overtakes her until she notices the suspicious looks from other travelers questioning her trade and dwelling. She pulls her cloak closer around herself in an effort to ward off the numbness of the cold as well as to give herself some sense of safety.
Amirah’s eyes apprehensively scan the room amongst the short range archery competitors, card players, and dice throwers whose contestants include dark elves, the dwarves with unkempt shoulder length beards and dirty faces and hands from mining, the shady humans, and devious peddlers from all societies. Barmaids bustle back and forth from the kitchen to the tables flirting and cajoling with the patrons to keep them drinking ale and cider.
The short fat innkeeper sweats from rushing back and forth to the kitchen. He delivers plate after plate of steaming food while signing note after note undoubtedly in his effort to get more drams horded for himself as he lends money and fences dubiously obtained goods. He finally approaches Amirah’s table wiping the sweat from his brow upwards into his damp greasy hair. His appearance is as crusty as his voice.
“My lord, what can I get you: ale, food, a bed for the night?”
Abaddon looks upward at the innkeeper,“An ale, a cider, and stew for the both of us. The bed will come later.”
A waive of panic white washes the inkeeper’s ruddy face as if Abaddon is someone he knows and fears. Quickly the innkeeper disappears back into the kitchen. Abbadon gets up and follows.
The barmaid places a light ale sweetened with honey and a hot spiced cider on the table and quickly heads back to the kitchen.
The entrance door swings open. A shrouded figure of a man walks in and sits head down signaling for a meal and flagon of ale. A secretive aura surrounds him. Patrons whisper to each other attempting to solve the mystery that surrounds the dark cloaked figure. The figure finishes his meal and walks toward Amirah. He sits at her table and without word reaches into his cloak, pulls out a leather drawstring bag and opens it carefully. Rune stones are cast on the table. With a hushed raspy he voice warns her, “Take good heed for danger and evil fortune will shortly fall upon you. Beware! When the time of your delivery approaches to save the child you must flee when the moment arises. Have ready hidden in your chamber small parcels of food that you set aside from each meal, warm clothing, and an oil lamp with extra oil to take with you leave secretly in the night. Take the child to Saros. Beg him leave it there then flee alone to a solitary life in the wilderness. No one must ever find you or they will find the child. If you succeed the child will be saved but in the end you will not avoid death yourself.” The shrouded figure departs as mysteriously as he came leaving Amirah with a sinking feeling of unrest.
Abaddon returns to the table in time to eat the stew that just arrived. He eats heartily while every bite Amirah swallows feels like a large lead weight closing off her throat before finally plummeting downwards inside her stomach. Waves of nausea force her to push her hunger aside. Abaddon smiles, “After the night sleep we’ll be on our way.” Amirah feel little comfort.
The upper floor is divided up into various size rooms but they pass the rooms to the end of the hall where a small staircase leads to another floor much like an attic. There is a large bed in the center of the room. Candles of various shapes and sizes light the room. The chambermaid finishes the room just as they enter and as she leaves she passes Amirah an impish smile.
As they make love Amirah feels an aura of death hanging over her, strangling her. This was not the romantic night she dreamed of. She feels suffocated by the eagerness burning madly within Abaddon. She feels as though he is consuming her soul. The candles have long burned out and she lets out her pain into the darkness of the night. With a loud groan he is finished and rolls off of her into sleep.
The morning ride that should have been filled with the morning after joy was as ominously silent as it was unremarkable. An unnatural darkness overtakes the afternoon sun. Amirah pulls herself close to Abaddon’s back feeling the need of protection. Behind her, the blue sky closes. Massive billows of slate grey clouds fill their charcoal colored undersides as the wind carries the smell of an oncoming storm. Cold black roads through the ravine twist and turn endlessly as she imagines unseen things lurking in the shadows. A cloak of darkness envelops them like a tomb. Suddenly, thunder explodes and bolts of white lightning crackle across the sky unleashing a torrent of rain. Biting rain slaps Amirah across the face insistently forcing her to press her cold face into Addamon’s back. Amirah feels the forcefulness of his hard leather heels digging into the horse’s flanks again and again.
“Hyaaah!” “Hyaaah!”
“Abaddon, have mercy for the horse! He has been ridden long and hard and carried the both of us.”
His voice frozen with a chilling indifference, “It’s an animal, Amirah, and as such to be used until its death.”
She searches for some hint of comfort from Abaddon but all she finds is a face devoid of expression. She trembles as panic sends chills racing through her body. Her throat tightens, her heart palpitates rapidly. Nausea claws inside her stomach. Warnings about the dark lord traveling the countryside searching for a willing virgin to bear his child, flood through her mind. She struggles with the enormous amount of thoughts questions rushing through her mind. “This is not the dark lord. This is the man who I fell in love with. This is the man who took me to be his bride. I do love him and he loves me. He is my happiness.”
Amirah’s surroundings were as void of natural sounds as Abbadon’s heart void of feeling. Dead branches & thorns line the dark barren pathway that leads to an almost invisible hollow orifice inside the ravine. Brown tendrils twist strangling the rock wall stretching upwards in a futile effort to find some of ray of light filtering its way into this obscurity. The dankness of the hole inside constricts Amirah’s nostrils and she feels suffocated. They descend into the lifeless hole moving further and further under the earth. Suddenly, she realizes the full horror of the truth. Terror and confusion strike her every nerve. There is no escape. This is the dark lord!
Amirah struggles and falls off the horse. She clambers to her feet in a frugal effort to escape but he is faster and seizes her arms with a grip that is hot and painful. The look in his eyes renders her motionless. Her heart is faint with terror from his death inflicted stare and his cold blooded words. “You are my wife, and you are with my child. With me you will remain until the child is born.” “It’s over, you can never go back,” he warns her.
Nothing in the world compares to the anguish she feels. Hurt, deception, disappointment, and anger flow through every vein in her body. Fault runs through her relentlessly. “Why didn’t I see this coming?” “Where was my intuition?” “If only I paid more attention.” “Looking back, she understands why their meetings always seemed rushed. He always had an excuse not to enter the village. It was all a lie, an evil deception. Of course he had to leave quickly! If she went back to the village he would have been found out! He got her to believe she was a goddess in his eyes. Abaddon bears little resemblance to the man she fell in love with. Amirah replies defiantly, “You will never have my child! Never!”
Months pass in haunting silence. There’s no escape from the long dark hours that confine her to eternal misery. She lies broken, defiled, humiliated, and neglected in the sparsely decorated bedroom. A feeling of impending death looms over her. She wonders about the shrouded figure from the inn and gazes over to the small cupboard that holds her only hope. Hidden inside are tiny parcels of food that she carefully placed aside after every meal. Only portions small enough not to be noticed either through her hunger or weight loss were put away. She hid one of the oil lamps left behind by a chambermaid and added small drops of oil to the lamp every day. When the maid came back looking for it, Amirah denied one was ever left behind. The maid scolded and warned her about the master keeping account of everything that went in or out of her room but Amirah held her ground. Fortunately, the maid believed her. To make sure no one would notice her own oil lamp burning extra fuel, Amirah turned her oil lamp higher just before the maid would come to turn her in for the night. No one looked inside the small cupboard. Amirah exhales a huge sigh of relief and rotates her hand softly over her swollen belly. The baby kicks. She marvels at the miracle inside of her and finally drifts off into a deep sleep.
Awakened by a rattling at the door Amirah is startled when she sees the shadow approach her. The shadow speaks, “Human flesh can not war against wizards. Come, it is time. Storm clouds are moving in. You must be well ahead of Abaddon before the rains come.”
Amirah scrambles and gathers her things from the cupboard. She wraps everything together in a blanket and tosses it over her shoulder. Silently, she follows the shadow through damp and dungy passageways. Her heart can not stop pounding with fear. If Abaddon catches her, surely he will kill them. Finally, the shadow stops. “Wait here. Keep watch towards the woods. Do not move until I give the signal with my lamp. Abaddon has his men guarding the courtyard. I am putting my lamp out until I cross. When you see its light again in the bushes, walk straight towards it. Do not worry about falling. The ground is clear until you reach the light.”
The pitch blackness of the night is so overwhelming that even the stars are in hiding. Blinded by tears and sorrow, she watches for the signal in the shadows.
Finally, the light flickers in the coal blackness and she anxiously moves towards it. As faint as it is, to her it is deliverance. Stumbling occasionally, she keeps her focus on the light knowing that at any moment the guards can arrive and see her. There’s no time for error. Her heart beats all too loudly with fear as she whispers, “Move, just move.” Finally, she reaches the light and the voice orders her to follow. Amirah follows into the blackness of the dense forest while branches whip across her face as punishment for disobedience.
They take a sharp turn left and she loses her footing and tumbles down a steep hill. Rocks and branches cut into her body until she smashes into a large tree truck. Pain forces an uncontrollable scream through her lips.
“Silence!” whispers the shadow as it pulls her to her feet. “Keep moving. They are tracking us by now. To stop will surely mean death.”
With every gasp of the bitter night air, her lungs feel tender and frozen. Salty tears sting her eyes leaving a muddy trail down her cheeks.
Thick bushes give way to rocks, rocks give way to boulders, and boulders give way to an immense naked rock face. Her legs grow weak threatening to let her drop. She instantly reminded herself why she’s running. The forbidding light of the moon reveals a multitude of ghosts and terrorizing demons stealing around in the shadows. They convince her to go on. The shadow beside her speaks, “I will leave you now. Climb to the top and you will find Saros.”
“Please don’t go. I can’t make the climb alone.”
“It is your only chance to save the child. This child will embrace the destiny of Castergan. May the protection of your ancestors be with you,” whispers the shadow as he turns merging with the other stalkers of the darkness.
Amirah stands alone in the stillness. An eerie call of a screech owl cuts through the darkness and the woods behind her. It echoes a warning of impending death. The rock face is overwhelming and looks unattainable. Her only hope of salvation and saving her child is to climb the rock face and surrender the child to Saros.
Intense solitude swallows her like a demon. Trapped in the cold darkness, she clumsily grasps at rocks to haul herself upwards. Eventually, she removes her shoes because it’s easier to take a foothold in the darkness with her bare feet. Her stinging feet dig into pointed slippery rocks and bleed slightly from those carved into blades by eons of wind. Jagged rocks cut the palms of her hands. Her face is scratched from embracing the rock face. Salt water from her tears seep into every crevice of her face.
Her legs grow weaker finally giving way under her. She drops into the darkness and slams onto a large uneven ledge. Her breath is forced entirely out of her lungs. Gaspingly she inhales a huge mouthful of air and as she exhales immense pain pulsates through her body. She wonders if this is where she’ll die. A sound catches her attention and she realizes she’s not far from danger. She struggles to get up. The smell of the gathering storm grows stronger then finally begins to fall shamelessly.
******paragraph to come***
“I am with child.”
“Abaddon fathered my child through deceit. Please, let my child live. Let me give birth here and leave the child with you. I assumed the spirit of Abaddon’s love. I knew only my own desire for what I dreamed possible and now my consequence is due. I masked what I claimed were minor events by counting Abaddon as a man whose struggle was for his kingdom. I covered his iniquity with my foolish adoration.”
“No one understands the commencement of evil. It appears as a small insignificant seed and grows into something more terrifying than the imagination can comprehend. It is so with Abaddon, my brother. Malevolence sprouts in his heart and like a plague of foul infection it festers in his soul. His contemplation of being master consumes him. It was because of this we fought. The magic in his staff became foul and powerful and with it he began to do loathsome things. For this reason only I fought him and was victorious in seizing his staff. I was able to cast him into Puteous. No spell could chain him their so freely he walks amongst us. The curse I laid on him was that only through an heir could he use his power again but he could not sow his seed unless it was the heart of innocence that fell in love with him. Even without his magic, his deception is strong. Your child, I will keep and teach the child.”
Time passes quietly bringing with it a modest sense of safety. Often she dreams of laughing and running with her child through fields of yellow flowers. She sees her child’s face with a smile so big and bright peering through the flowers then suddenly turning pale as parched grass.
***later***
Amirah stands at the window and watches the ravens settling in the trees. They are far more than she has ever seen at one time.
A sharp pain forces her to bend forward and hold onto the window ledge as hundreds of ravens fill the sky with their deep chaotic shrieks.
Amirah cries, “The time of my travail has come upon me.”
****more about the birth to come***
A seer warns, “Two female children have come this night. One possesses the power of light, the other of evil.”
One of the babies cries out relentlessly.
“The quiet one, we name Pocella. The other, whose strange unearthly wail pierces the walls with a furious urgency we call Sequellor, for it is her who cries out for her father.”
Turning to Amirah she warns, “You must leave at first light. Abaddon knows the child is born; his seed cries out to her.”
Through the night Amirah holds the babies close as they suckle. Her heart broken, she knows what she must do. A small light breaks through the window warning her that it is time. She watches the last flicker of the candle go out and with a puff of smoke its life ends. Quietly she dresses and slips outside. The morning shadows have never felt as lonely or cold.
A raven circles over her. “Kaugh, Kaugh.”
Written by Beverley Woznica
