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 the child 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
Dissonance
Eairion glanced over at the couch to see Rohese curled up and engrossed in a book. Shifting his gaze slightly, he observed Mirkk at the other end, staring into the hearth where a fire was burning steadily. Despite the early onset of spring, the library still held a chill in the evening and a fire was always welcome.
"You two are very quiet this evening." He remarked casually, rising to refill his glass from the bottle on the nearby table. He tilted the tumbler towards the candle to admire the honey-hued liquid coating its inside surface.
Rohese looked up from her book and smiled warmly at her grandfather. "I'm sorry, I'm just tired.” She glanced at Mirkk with a slight look of apprehension before adding, "I've been busy working on Elanthian Vogue of late."
Mirkk's gaze remained fixed on the lambent flames as he muttered something under his breath about the Steward and poachers.
It was clear from his expression that Eairion did not believe either of them. He was reminded of the letter he had received from his grand-daughter a week ago. "Hiding behind your work, you mean." Eairion retorted and sat back in his chair, facing them.
"Who's going to start?" Eairion's eyes tracked back and forth between the unusually reserved couple.
Rohese lowered her gaze to the open pages of her book and continued to sit in silence. Mirkk reached out to take ahold of one of her hands, squeezing it with a reassuring smile. Looking up, she wiggled her nose at him and rose to her feet.
"Please excuse me, I think I'll have an early night and go to bed."
She kissed Mirkk tenderly on the cheek and he reluctantly let her fingers slide away from his. Both men watched in silence as she left the room, closing the door behind her.
Eairion's gaze turned back to Mirkk.
"Well, would you like to explain what that was all about?"
A robed figure stepped out from the shadow of the trees and stared up at the familiar house with its ivy-strewn gables and arched windows. Seeing the candlelight flicker in one of the upstairs rooms, a knowing smile crossed her gaunt face.
Poladra hadn't been to Nendelomea* in decades but she remembered its layout well. It would seem that their grandfather had granted Rohese and her husband the use of the main suite. It struck her as odd that Eairion let them stay here together, let alone give his approval for their union. She doubted that he would have been quite so easy-going had their grandmother still been in residence. Sahese had not been known for her tolerance of impropriety and a Bayvel marrying outside of the Elven Houses would have caused her some consternation.
Poladra closed her eyes and inhaled deeply of the night air. The dissonance within the walls was palpable, which added to her sense of satisfaction as she thrived on confusion and anxiety. In recent days, she had found that the closer she got to her sister, the more she could feel her pain and this pleased her too.
The clouds drifted across the night sky to reveal the waning Liabo and waxing Lornon moons. How auspicious. Let's hope it mirrors our shifting fortunes. Pushing back the deep hood of her black satin robe, she tilted her face upwards to bathe in the cool luminescence. The white streak in her hair flashed and her waxen skin took on an ethereal glow but it quickly faded. She hissed in frustration at her failure yet again to call down the lucent energy, causing the tiny nacreous humanoid skeleton perched on her shoulder to curl its scorpion tail defensively.
"Hush now," Poladra purred, scratching the back of its neck to soothe the creature. The skeleton relaxed its tail and stretched out its wings, basking in her attention. She whispered a few words to her macabre companion and it nodded vehemently in reply, climbing down from her shoulder and into her hand. Poladra approached the house and watched in wry amusement as it leapt from her grasp to scamper up the ivy vine leading to the candlelit window, where it disappeared from sight.
With a satisfied glance upwards, Poladra twisted her hand sharply and engulfed herself in shadow.
Mirkk rose from the couch and walked across the library to a nearby shelf, his back now to Eairion. His eyes fell on a particular black leather-bound volume, the silver lettering read, Noble Houses of the Turamzzyrian Empire: 4000 to 4499.
"I have a past," he sighed, lowering his gaze. He paused, the only response coming from an acute pop and subsequent crackle of the fireplace. He strode slowly along the long line of books, stopping just before the large curtained windows, a dull light shining through from the moons. His eyes fell upon another volume, bound in rich brown leather, with gold and scarlet script that read Úvanimi, Arauci, a Sancossi.
Turning his head and speaking over his shoulder, he added, "And it isn't all noble. It isn't all virtuous." Mirkk quickly glanced out the window and furrowed his brow as if something had caught his attention. After a moment, with his eyes still fixed on the window, he slowly turned toward Eairion, his gaze at last breaking from the glass panes.
Hesitating, Mirkk cautiously offered, "My lord, I laid bare my blemished soul and I was afraid, for a time, that she would find me wanting." Eairion studied him and nodded somberly.
See: A Haunted Past (short story)
Rohese sat on the edge of the bed and held her head in her hands. It had been a difficult couple of weeks in which they had both suffered from nightmares and Mirkk had struggled to come to terms with his past. Having finally shared it with her, he'd withdrawn completely and the pain this had caused her had been unbearable. Seeing him every day but not being able to reach him had been like a knife wound to the heart yet she'd had to continue on with her duties. Even her glamour had failed to work and she was exhausted from trying to keep up appearances.
Time and patience. No matter how many times she had repeated that mantra to herself, it hadn't really helped. The rift between Mirkk and herself had widened to the extent that she felt all was lost between them and, in desperation, she'd written to her grandfather.
Brother Blud had reassured her that all would be well, given time, but now Eairion knew something was amiss. She regretted sending the letter; in it she had simply stated that she needed some time away and asked if she could come and stay. She had not accounted for the fact that he was far more perceptive than she’d given him credit for. Oh well, what's done is done. She just hoped that Mirkk was now sharing his troubles with him too and reassuring him that they’d managed to work through their problems together.
Feeling a little more at ease, she laid her head down onto the soft pillow and drifted off to sleep just as a tiny skeletal face appeared at the window.
Eairion joined Mirkk at the window and silently refilled both their glasses. The clouds drifted across the star-filled sky, muting the silvery moon glow that had been bathing the extensive lawn. The inky darkness of night descended over the estate once more, as if responding to the change of mood within.
"Come with me." Eairion said, placing the whiskey bottle on a nearby table and heading towards the far end of the library where he paused in front of a portrait that practically filled the wall space.
The face staring out of the canvas was that of a tall elf of indeterminate age although, judging by her countenance, she was not youthful. Her gaze spoke of wisdom and intuition with a hint of torment. The talented artist had seen something in the lady’s demeanour and managed to capture it in the painstakingly applied oils. Silvery white hair cascaded over her shoulders to blend with the free-flowing sleeves of her pale ivory silk gown. The only touch of colour in the pallid portrayal of the noble lady came from the addition a lavender sash draped across her body. Holding it in place at the hip was a Mazarine Blue butterfly pin; a signifier of the flight of small butterflies fluttering around her.
"My Sahese." Eairion remarked, his tone pensive and quiet. "You can see where my grand-daughter gets her beauty from." Taking a sip from his glass, he simply stared at the painting for a few more minutes before resuming his conversation.
"You spoke of a blemished soul and fear of being found wanting; I know something of that pain."
Eairion breathed a heavy sigh. "Now is not the time to tell of it but I wanted you to know that I do understand."
Mirkk glanced between the stately elf at his side and the portrait. Eairion seemed to be unable to take his eyes off his wife. It was clear he was struggling with something but Mirkk was reluctant to press the matter; he had troubles of his own. A pair of perceptive, smoke grey eyes stared back from the canvas, as if questioning why both men were standing before her. Now he understood a little more about her reputation and why Rohese held her in such high regard. Sahese was clearly a lady of significance in the Bayvel family and he hoped that one day Eairion would explain why she had chosen to leave.
Both men simultaneously drained their glasses. The moment felt like a silent tribute to an admired matriarch and lost love. Eairion nodded once. Placing his empty glass next to the whiskey bottle, he left the room without a word or backward glance.
Mirkk plunked his fishing line into the middle of the river. Having anticipated the salmon run for the past six months, he had hoped Eairion would have chosen fly fishing. He was dismayed when the patriarch decided on drift fishing instead, and furthermore insisted on a spot along the river that seemed peculiar. The two stood apart along the bank, though close enough to still occasionally converse.
As the morning crept by, moving toward midday, the mist that covered the Lake of Shadowed Sorrows and often encroached its tributaries began to lift its veil, allowing Mirkk a glimpse across the river into trees beyond. He noticed a well-kept orchard just past the opposite bank. He called to Eairion, inquiring, "Are those..."
"Peach trees," Eairion responded with a slight nod. Mirkk studied the neatly lined trees across the way, noting their strong roots and sturdy trunks.
"They must be quite old," he noted.
"That orchard is over seven hundred years old," Eairion commented. He glanced at Mirkk.
Mirkk watched several workers toiling about at the far end of the orchard. They were barely visible, but he could see them trimming the branches and clearing away fallen limbs and brush. "They're clearing it away? Won't they not be ready for several months?"
Eairion adjusted his fishing line slightly in the smooth flowing water in an effort to catch a prized salmon. "They are," he replied. After a pregnant pause, he added, "Some things – the things you wish to long last – require maintenance. In the case of that orchard, the work is not done when the trees are in bloom and producing wonderful fruit. No, the real work is done when things seem dormant."
Mirkk glanced at the old elf thoughtfully for a moment before returning his gaze to his own fishing line. His eyes wandered back to the stately trees.
With a knowing smile, Eairion continued, "Clearing the brush, the dead branches and the like, it keeps the pests – those things that would eat away at the tree itself – at bay. The hard work is done now, and come late summer and even as far north as Nendelomea, we will have a wonderful harvest. Those trees will be full of succulent peaches, more than you or I could ever enjoy by ourselves."
Mirkk's gaze was fixed upon the orchard, but his thoughts drifted elsewhere. He reflected on the past few weeks and his marriage to Rohese, considering all that Eairion had just offered. After some reflection, he smiled to himself. He decided the fishing trip was fruitful, even if the two did not catch a single salmon that day.
Second Thoughts
Poladra was disappointed. She had learned that her sister and husband were reconciled and, from what she had heard, they seemed to be happier than ever.
It's just a minor setback! Perhaps it's time to reveal myself to my grandfather. Eairion would surely be pleased to see me again, and, as the eldest living Bayvel descendant, Nendelomea would rightfully be mine one day.
The nacreous skeleton in Poladra's hand scampered up her arm and perched atop her shoulder. Lost in thought, she scratched the back of the creature's head and it stretched its wings in satisfaction. At the sound of approaching horses, Poladra turned sharply. Mirkk and Rohese broke through the trees on horseback, the chestnut mare and white filly keeping pace with each other in a steady gallop.
Slinking back into the relative safety of the thicket, the last thing she heard was their laughter as they raced each other along the wide track leading to the house.
On second thoughts, now isn't the time.
The sun was low in the sky, staining it coral pink, as Eairion approached the cobbled stable yard. He paused at the gate and stepped back into the shadows of its stone arch to watch Mirkk take the filly's reins and help Rohese dismount. His concerns about their relationship had been reinforced recently but he was trying not to interfere. He liked Mirkk - the man had made a good impression from the outset - but he loved his grand-daughter. She reminded him so much of his wife and the last thing he wanted was to see her hurt again; she was his last link to Sahese.
Mirkk continued to hold Rohese's gloved hand, pulling her closer to him to exchange kisses and a few whispered words. Eairion was heartened to see that their usual ease with one another had returned and he smiled to himself as they laughed together at some private joke. Anyone watching them couldn’t fail to see how much in love they were.
Not for the first time, he felt a pang of regret at choosing not to attend their wedding last year. It was a mistake and due solely to some foolish stubbornness on his part. Deciding not to interrupt, he walked back to the house; he would meet them there later instead.
With the usual whiskey glass in hand, Eairion stood in front of the large canvas hanging on the wall of his library. He found himself lingering here more and more lately. For years, after his wife had left, he couldn’t bring himself to look at her portrait but now it seemed to bring him comfort.
"You would be so proud of her, Sahese." Eairion’s gaze remained fixed on the grey eyes staring back at him. "I'm having second thoughts about my earlier misgivings and I need to find a way to demonstrate my approval of their union."
Hearing the doors to the library open behind him, he turned to see Mirkk and Rohese enter. Having changed from their dusty clothes, they both looked refreshed after their ride to Nendelomea and he greeted them warmly. Rohese looked radiant in her peach velvet gown, the pale chiffon sleeves covering her hands but he could still make out her grandmother's opal ring beneath the sheer fabric. It reminded him of another ring; the one still sitting upstairs in Sahese's jewelry box. Rohese should have that as well.
It was then he decided how he would make amends: he would ask to bear witness to a vow renewal and, as Nendelomea would also be hers one day, it was only right that he should offer to host it here.
Author's Notes
Nendelomea is the ancestral home of the Bayvel family. It is located on the far north eastern shore of the Lake of Shadowed Sorrows. Often shrouded in mist, the extensive private estate boasts a large gabled residence with stables, a boathouse, a well-stocked fishing lake, all surrounded by orchards, meadows, and ancient woodlands through which runs a river (yet to be named).