The Reckoning (short story)
Title: The Reckoning
Author: Rohese Bayvel-Timbertree
First published on the 15th day of Charlatos in the year 5122
Following on from the Search for the Truth, this journal is a repository of vignettes around Rohese's continued story including the repercussions of her search for the truth about her family and the mysteries of the Codex Ista (Book of Knowledge).
Prologue
"It all begins and ends in your mind. What you give power to, has the power over you, if you allow it."
It had all started with a curse.
Poladra hadn't meant to hurt Rohese quite so profoundly. She had lashed out but who could blame her. To have your fiancé declare his love for another on your wedding day was enough to anger anyone; for it to be your own sister was the cruellest blow of all.
Admittedly, Rohese had claimed to have been oblivious and, in hindsight, that was probably true. Rohese had always been the naive one, something that Poladra often used to her advantage. As children, they had bickered like all sisters are wont to do but, on the whole, they had been quite amicable. Rohese had resented how close her elder sibling had been to their father though. He didn't actually play favourites; he merely had more interest in the arcane arts than the spiritual.
Poladra paced her small room, her heels clicking against the bare stone floor. The term "room" was probably an exaggeration. It was more of a cell furnished with a cot, a single blanket and a rickety stand, on which stood a jug of tepid water for bathing. The only redeeming feature about the confined space was the window that overlooked a cobbled courtyard and the fact that the door was ajar. Poladra's movements were no longer restricted and she was free to come and go at will.
The witch had spent the last 25 years striving to understand and perfect her magical power in this place, hiding from Elven society while she wrestled with her conscience and desire to learn more. She stood at the window and stared at the moons in the night sky. Another Lornon's Eve had come and gone and she was still unable to harness the Dark Moon's potent energy. Three months on and she had finally learned something that brought that possibility closer.
Word had reached her that Rohese had come into possession of their grandmother's ring. The Day of Zelia's Warning was only weeks away; it was time.
It Begins
Rohese slipped her trowel into the trug to the side and rose to her feet with a weary sigh. Pulling the muddy gloves from her hands, she lay them on top of the gardening tools and grimaced at the state of her pinafore. The soil-stained hem was testament to her efforts that morning in the manse garden. Spring was in the air and Rohese was conscious that there was still so much to do to prepare and she couldn't leave it all to Hosta, House Sylvanfair's dedicated gardener of many years.
The birds in the nearby trees were in full voice; their melodic song was enough to drive away any sense of melancholy and Rohese felt her spirits lift as she took in the freshly tilled soil and array of tender green seedlings around her.
The sun was low in the west. Mirkk would hopefully be home soon from another day out helping the Mirror's Steward to track down poachers. Rohese would just have time to change if she headed in now. She giggled to herself at the thought of being caught in her gardening apparel and it reminded her of the time Mirkk had arrived at the Ailanthus Manor a year ago in his fishing gear.
Pausing at the door into the manse, Rohese picked a few sprigs of lilac and added them to the trug; a vase or two would brighten up the place. On entering, she noticed that a couple of unopened letters had been left on the table. Normally they would be opened and those needing her attention would be deposited on her desk in the Solar but everyone had been so busy with their other chores today. One envelope in particular caught her eye; the penmanship was familiar and it caused her to drop the trug with a clatter, spilling its contents all over the floor.
Rohese tentatively cracked the wax seal and pulled out a single sheet of parchment. The colour drained from her cheeks and she sank onto the bench with her hand pressed against the scar on her throat. Time seemed to stop and then speed up rapidly as she re-read the two lines of text. With shaking hands, she quickly crumpled it up and threw it into the stove along with the envelope, where she watched it curl and blacken into nothing but ash.
The irony was not lost on her as she recalled the contents of the letter.
"Enjoy your kisses while you may. Soon it will all be ashes in your mouth."
Fear of the Dark
The pitter-patter of rain outside was relentless. Rohese usually found rainfall to be comforting, especially at night, but there was something about this storm over Mist Harbor that was unsettling in its perpetuity. Turning over in her sleep, Rohese stirred as she felt something brush against her cheek. She smiled to herself - assuming it was Mirkk kissing her - but the sensation built in pressure as it crept across her face and over her mouth. Wild thoughts flashed through her mind. Was he trying to silence her or...suffocate her?
Rohese opened her eyes to try and discern what was happening but was faced with pitch blackness. She could make out nothing in the room, not even the outline of the glass doors that had been illuminated by moonlight earlier that evening. Smothered by the darkness, she lay immobile; locked in stasis by fear. With each attempt at inhalation, the weight of it increased, pressing her downwards. It was as if the bed was yielding beneath her and she was sinking down into a void. In desperation, her hands scrabbled at the sheets as she tried to claw her way to freedom but to no avail; she felt herself slipping into unconsciousness.
A flash of lightning lit up the room, followed by a rumble of thunder.
Mirkk woke with a start to find Rohese sat up in bed. Curled in a tight ball, her arms were locked around her knees with her face buried into them. She was trembling all over and sobbing uncontrollably.
"Rohese!" He exclaimed, pulling her into his arms. "What happened?"
Unable to form coherent words, Rohese merely rocked back and forth. Mirkk held her tightly until she eventually began to relax. Tentatively lifting her head, Rohese looked cautiously around the room. He was shocked to see the terror evident in her eyes.
She had always been afraid of the dark. Her sister used to tease her mercilessly about it, often pushing her into cupboards and holding the door shut until she was reduced to tears and had to plead to be released. Growing up, Rohese had learned to rationalise her fear and live with it, but this...this was a new horror.
"Fear of the Dark" ~ Iron Maiden
Also see: Afraid of the Dark as part of Mirkk's Tale.
Influenced by: What Dreams May Come
Foreboding
Rohese spent the night tossing and turning; almost afraid to go to sleep. The events at the Stumbling Pebble Bar the evening before had unnerved her; beginning with Talinvor's intervention and ending with both Penre's awful death and the revelation of Greth's imposter.
The act of manipulating minds was disturbing enough to Rohese but witnessing Talinvor perform it on mere children crossed a line as far as she was concerned. She and Kothos had shared the same view but both had felt helpless in their aversion of what was unfolding before them. Scanning the many faces in the room, it had been clear that others had also felt uncomfortable. What was it that had prevented them all from intervening? Had Talinvor succeeded in manipulating their minds too?
Thankfully, Kothos had taken Reynai under his wing and whisked her away to safety. She made a mental note to offer her assistance to the gentle Brother Blud but first, there was the demise of Greth to come to terms with. Beloved to many, Greth and his bar were the beating heart of Mist Harbor. Rohese struggled to even contemplate his not being there. What of Zofiya? That young lady had been incensed. What was she now capable of given the time she had spent with Socius? And what of Socius? If word reached him, she dreaded to think of the consequences.
Rohese rolled over once more, plumping her pillow in an attempt to try and find some measure of peace or comfort, but to no avail. Her eyes rested on Mirkk who seemed to be struggling with his own inner demons again, given his pained expression. What was it that troubled him so much in his dreams? She brushed aside a lock of hair that had strayed across his face and resigned herself to another sleepless night.
An hour later, as dawn was beginning to make its presence felt, Rohese rose from the bed. She reached for her diary, made a quick entry and brushed aside a solitary tear that had tracked its way down her cheek. There was a heavy sense of foreboding in the air and, try as she might, she was unable to shrug it off.
For some reason, her sister's veiled threats from over two decades ago echoed in her mind:
You will never know what it is to be at peace.
Influenced by: What Dreams May Come