Book 5, Chapter 43: Wine And Candles
The abbey looked more like a castle. Stone upon stone made up the thick walls. Some carved into rectangles, some uneven and bound together by mortar. Two large and thick wooden doors bound in iron were the entrance. We were less than half their height walking through. The inside hallway was similarly large, ceiling well above us, like this place was made for giants.
It made me wonder if Tread’s telling of the ten-foot tall Brandst was correct, and these were built by his people.
Since leaving the wagon, they half-dragged me along and it helped, but as we walked, my legs grew stronger, remembering how to move, and I could soon support myself.
We came to a somewhat smaller, but still giant, door, ringed in stone. The abbess said to the guards, “Men are not permitted in these halls. You will remain here unless you wish to dine. In that case, go find your fellows.”
“We are to accompany you and the princess.”
“Oh, a princess is she?”
“Ma’am, we have our orders and-”
“The restriction is for your protection, soldier. For within these halls are things men cannot unsee and will drive you mad. If you survive.”
The guard shuffled on his feet. “Ma’am, you and Grand Magister Tye reached a compromise, and you agreed for us to accompany the princess. The girl.”
“Enter if you feel you must. If your lives are worth so little.”
The abbess held the door open for the ladies holding my arms and me, and we stepped through.
After a short hallway, a left curving stairway led us down. The stone ceiling was lower and felt oppressive, despite still being nearly twice Morry’s height. Torches were placed every few steps, just around each turn, and cast a sooty, black shadow from their tops to the ceiling. The air was heavy with smoke.
I thought for sure we were going to be walking down these stairs forever, my legs were giving out already, but the two elderly women – I was thinking of them as nuns now – were stronger than they appeared and kept me up without issue. A few times, I think, my feet didn’t touch the floor.
We came to a long hallway and continued along it. Though straight, the floor was of uneven stone, and I stumbled here and there, but ever did they support me, their strength seemed unflagging, beginning to change my mind about overpowering them and escaping.
Wooden doors were spaced at most eight feet apart and on both sides of the hallway. They had bars for windows and this place looked to me, for all the world, like a dungeon. I hoped they weren’t dragging me to be tortured. I had my fill of that this year and could really do without.
Finally, at the end of the hallway, and after passing through yet another large wooden door, which creaked as they opened it, humidity hit me. Inside was a bathhouse. Great, I thought, no torture. Possibly, though, they were going to test if I floated.
As some of the women went to light more torches, the abbess turned around to face me. “You need food and water. It’s clear they mistreated you, these ignorant fools. But first you must be cleansed.”
“I honestly don’t know if I’m hungry.”
“You poor thing. You are, you just don’t know it, the state you’re in.”
The soldiers who insisted on coming, against the promised horrors, stomped in, boots echoing against the stone walls. Now that I was listening, water trickling into the pool came to my ears, the crackling of flames on the torches.
The abbess turned to the soldiers, “This is no place for men. We are going to bathe her.”
I didn’t look but could almost feel the soldier’s smile as he said, “Our orders are to monitor the princess at all times. You have no idea how dangerous this girl is.”
“She’s a danger that you couldn’t stop. You’re an ant to this girl.”
“Watch your tongue, woman.”
“If you’re going to stay here, at least have the decency to turn your backs.”
“No. She becomes dangerous when her magic circles her hands. I’ve seen it. The best way to stop her is to give her a quick beating.”
“You are safe from magic in this place, soldier.”
He didn’t answer and they didn’t turn around. Ah, well, they’d most likely seen me shit and piss and vomit all week, so I wasn’t bothered by their gaze. At least, that’s what I told myself.
The nuns made nun-noises of disapproval and it did not alter the situation one bit.
Soon, buckets were drawn from the steaming bath, a bar of red soap was put on a pillow atop a stand nearby. One of the elderly ladies placed candles all around me in what I expected to be a pentagram but ended up being an octagram.
Huh. Alright.
I swayed on my feet. One of them steadied me.
Another brought what at first looked like a mace, but at the end of the stick was a hollow sphere, smoke rising through its many holes. She began chanting and waving it around the candles, then around me, stepping methodically and slowly. It smelled of sandalwood and rose.
Behind her, another woman, slightly younger than everyone else, which meant she was a spry octogenarian, carried a bucket from which she grasped flower petals and sprinkled them first outside the octagon and then around my legs.
I wished and wished they’d just give me some damn water.
The abbess made a sign in front of my face, not unlike a cross, but it continued for a few more strokes. She then mumbled something before saying, “This is a holy ritual for your worship. We cleanse you as we apologize for this unworthy bath you are about to receive.”
The quip, ‘you’re forgiven,’ stayed unsaid as I didn’t have the strength to argue with her, nor to escape their ministrations. I closed my eyes, resigning myself to this process, hoping Morry was getting the same, and that thought made me choke on a laugh.
Another woman began chanting directly behind me, making me wish I had my armor or my sword, or that my magic would return to its fullest. But it didn’t. She took hold of my filthy and tattered dress and cut it away, off my person.
I could almost feel the soldier’s eyes on me and moved to cover my breasts. The abbess took a hold of my hands, and gently brought them down to my stomach. I’d scream or swear, but it was so surreal – elderly women circling me, the incense and the chanting, shadows dancing in the torchlight, flower petals softly falling to the floor and me as the centerpiece. Standing there naked, being touched and revered and treated as if I were the second coming, I felt like I was still drugged, wished for fresh air instead of perfumed torch fumes, yearned for the wilderness, or anything outside this dark and smokey space.
Another elderly woman, no shortage of these around, entered from a side room I hadn’t seen, carrying a tray with a crystal decanter atop, and several goblets. Behind her, more such women entered, placing these on the side.
“Men are not permitted here, nor to drink this, but for the ritual to be complete, all must imbibe.”
Shortly, the soldiers and ladies all held misshapen black clay cups, and the abbess placed the last into my hands, pouring reddish liquid into it. She spoke nonsense and I understood her.
“There are no longer gods nor goddesses amongst this land and her peoples, but all praise be to you for entering our realm, our existence, and bringing the gift of life, eternal youth.”
The ladies drank. The soldiers, some shrugged, each drank. I held the cup in my hands, staring at this woman and she pushed up my hands gently to my mouth and, against all reason, and my mind screaming at me to not do this thing, I took the liquid into my body. It was thick, floral, bitter and sweetened with honey.
“All of it.” She pushed it further, hands pressed against my back, and in my thirst I found myself unable to resist and finished the cup.
“Just the one cup?” asked the head soldier.
“We have more for you and your men.”
“Not so bad, this place, eh old woman.”
She whispered her words so that only I could hear them, standing so close to me as she was, “Oh but you will soon know of demons.”
A lady took the cup out of my hands. I was guided to a stone circle near the bath and they dumped warm water on me, lathered me with the red soap, repeated this process many times, rubbing my skin with their white towels and the guards chuckled amongst themselves, made lewd comments, and then the nuns poured wine over my body, chilling me for it was cold, bottle after bottle until I shivered, and then eight of them stripped, making the soldiers comment rudely about sagging skin and breasts, and carefully guided me into the warm, welcoming waters where my eyelids closed and I let their hands massage my muscles, pulling me deeper and deeper into the waters until I had one last breath of air and under I went.
It felt like forever, but it must have been only seconds, when they let me up. One of them began massaging my head, through my hair, others worked on my legs and arms, and I wondered if I was still in the same world as before.
“Remember,” said the one rubbing my head, “we won’t eat you.”
“What?”
“It’s not your flesh we are after.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s best to keep your eyes closed.”
Immediately opened my eyes and started to question her again. They dunked me back in the water. I choked and sputtered when they let me up to the shouts and protests of the solders. I tried to look, but she held my head firmly. She was strong. I tried to stand, but they took hold of my ankles, wrists.
“Wait.”
“Stop struggling.”
The head soldier yelled, “Not my family! Not my family!”
Another screamed and began choking.
The only person I could see was the elderly woman holding my head fast. Her dark pupils, like deep and dark shadows, expanded, taking over her eyes. Her smile reached up to her ears, teeth pointing out her mouth, growing, sharp and vicious, ears lengthening to points, horns rising out her head.
I tried to pull away, but she held tight. I tried to jackknife, pulling at my legs and hands, but the other women – themselves changing, their teeth elongating, hands growing talons, let me writhe and move and kept me in the water.
“It’s best if you keep your eyes closed.”
“Let go of me!”
“I’ll eat you if you move!”
Another said, “She will feed us all.”
“More than the soldiers?”
“Her flesh is young and soft,” her nails raked across my naked thighs.
I tried to pull away but my body was suddenly heavy. I jerked here and there, like an insect drowning, and couldn’t quite get the motions right. They laughed and they tore at me, though each time I had no wounds, and the soldiers shouted and wailed, some gurgled and choked, and eventually even their death throes ceased.
***
The dawn’s light streamed through the bars of the little room I found myself in. It was bright, too bright, and my eyes hurt. Slowly, groggily, I sat up.
“Welcome to your new morning,” said the abbess.
My voice was rough and painful. “Lady, go fuck yourself.”
“You’ve been given drugs this entire week. It’s time you had some real food. Your body is emaciated.”
If I had the strength, I’d leap from the bed and choke her to death, but I did not, in fact, have the strength. She wasn’t imposing, being tiny and elderly, perhaps in her eighties, but she was right. I was weak from the journey. Thirsty, so thirsty. The lack of food, constant nausea and pain, my energy drained by the mages, the drugged water, and whatever last night was. Thought about throwing the pillow at her smiling face, though.
“What was in that drink last night?”
“Angel’s Trumpets, among other herbs. They call out to divinity.”
Dry as it was, my jaw dropped. A deadly hallucinogenic plant that causes the consumer to experience their worst nightmares before dying. I wanted to shout at her, ask why, but she already answered that. It proved my hypothesis on poison, though. I could survive it. I asked anyway, “Why on earth would you poison . . . you people are crazy. You could just stab me or cut off my head if you want me dead.”
“Over the years, many have come claiming to be divine. Last night’s ritual exists to punish false claimants.”
“The soldiers.”
“I warned them not to enter that place. They indeed found their demons at the last.”
I shook my head. It was probably good to have less guards, but I did not understand why the elderly women killed them. “Aren’t you working for the grand magister?”
“Oh, is that what you think?” She opened the door, “Eat slowly, drink carefully. Rest today.”
“He gave you four days. Tomorrow is your ritual?”
“He was mistaken.”
“How many have passed your, ah, ritual?”
“In my entire lifetime, you are the first. I did not believe the grand magister about you. But you are the first.”
“And you think it wise to violate those you think are gods?”
“Gods, mages, you have no power here.”
“Except to drink poison, it appears. What about this food?”
“It’s neither drugged nor poisoned.”
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t trust you.”
“I can understand your feelings. You were tested last night. You survived. And we will continue with the remainder of the ritual.”
“First of all, I refuse to participate in whatever crazed ideas you people have. And second, if I am a deity, you will receive no kindness from me.”
“Time will tell. Only time.”
I glared at her, getting frustrated with all these damned non-answers.
“Here,” she said, moving back to the table and taking one of the cups to her mouth, drank some. Picked up the other, sipped from it, too. “There you go, all safe.”
“Perhaps you haven’t had enough.”
“Eat, don’t eat, up to you.” She walked out the door, paused and said, “Meditate. Prepare yourself.” She shut it and I heard a lock falling into place.
To no one, maybe to the door, I said “I’ve reached inner peace and self-actualization. Perfectly well meditated now, thank you kindly.”
I was torn between lying back down and checking out the food. My body had to be starving, as it had been a while. Yet I was disassociated from it, perhaps aftereffects of the drugs. Between Wizard Tye’s treatment of me and these evil nuns, I’d have to check into a psych ward for some serious therapy.
Pulling off the cover, I turned out to be wearing a white cotton dress. There was a cord on the nightstand that I guess was a belt of sorts. These guys certainly didn’t have any suicide protection in mind, but I guess there was no place to fasten it. Oh, I could use the bars on the window. Shaking these dark thoughts out of my head, I walked barefoot over to the table. The floor was chilly.
A chunk of what looked like pork, with potatoes, peas and carrots, a large piece of bread and a cut of cheese. Tea in a cup, teapot beside it. Even a large mug of red wine. I tasted a bit of the cold meat and waited. It wasn’t bitter, didn’t have any off flavors. Tried everything like that, a little piece, pause a bit to see if I became sick.
No upset stomach, no hives. I dug in. The food wasn’t bad and the wine unsweetened. My favorite way to drink it. For religious austerity, the meal seemed grand. For a princess, perhaps a little sparse.
Regardless, it was too much for me at once, not after that awful journey. How long was it? Hard for me to say, but it was over, and I was glad for it. The wine helped and made the room spin a little, so low my tolerance had fallen. Maybe I’d get back to the cheese later.
This was the place Etienne wanted me to come. For what? Where would I find answers here?
I couldn’t tell if it better being prisoner to a bunch of murderous poisoner-nuns than the mages. If they continued culling the guards, they’d make it easier for me to find Morry. They seemed to share an end goal, the mages and nuns, but it sure wasn’t healthy for the rest of us. Though, if they hadn’t brought me wine, or drugged me repeatedly, this entire experience would have been quite the detox.
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