THE WARLORDS OF WOODMYST
By
Robert E Kreig
Copyright © 2016 Robert E Kreig (Revised Nov 2017)
ISBN: 978-1-925515-91-6 (eBook)
Published by Vivid Publishing
P.O. Box 948, Fremantle Western Australia 6959
www.vividpublishing.com.au
eBook conversion and distribution by Fontaine Publishing Group, Australia
www.fontaine.com.au
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.
For My Friends.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Epilogue
Prologue
White spray exploded over the bow as the Adelandria raced through the choppy waves of the Western Sea. The intended port was Strongholdt, a city on the shore of the Sea of Solace, a body of water set farther inland, accessible by a narrow gorge known as the Griralith Pass. Towering rock walls stood upon either side of the gorge, wide enough for two ships, three in places, to pass.
The Griralith Pass route twisted for over eighty miles and was guarded by numerous forts that sat atop the cliffs along its course. The two largest garrisons, fortified with stone and armed with canons, sat upon each side of the mouth of the pass where vessels would enter and leave.
Captain Jeremy Schoenbach, standing in the wheelhouse behind a thick glass windshield, was always in awe whenever he saw the site. Even with the heavy weather and hard tacking that needed his attention, he took the time to peer through the teeming rain towards the tall cliff with its fortifications standing proudly on top.
“The wind is blowing strong from the west, Captain,” Karlena, his first mate, called to him from the main deck. Several men and the other three Erilian women were busying themselves with their duties as they prepared to enter the passage. “Should we shelter until the storm has passed?”
“No,” he shouted back. “We make for the pass. We have only three days to pick up our next freight and we still have this load to deliver. If we don’t get those supplies for Byview, they’ll be given to someone else to deliver. We need that haul.”
“So,” Karlena yelled over the wind as she climbed to the quarter deck, “we won’t be harbouring for a day or two in the Sea of Solace?”
“We’re running just within schedule,” he told her as she entered the wheelhouse. He tossed her one of the towels that hung on the wall behind him. “If we get more weather like this, we could be late. I don’t want to give our employers any excuse not to pay full charge.”
“We leave early then?” She towelled her arms dry.
“Aye,” he replied.
Without warning, the fortress atop the left cliff exploded into fire. Debris flew into the air reminding Jeremy of a black flower spreading its petals. Giant fragments of rock and iron tumbled from on high, trailing smoke and dust in its wake before crashing into Griralith Pass.
“By the gods!” Karlena gasped. “What was that?”
The men on deck stopped their tasks to view the phenomenon as fire and stone tumbled to the sea.
“Perhaps their black powder for the canons erupted,” Jeremy replied, staring with wide eyes at the tragedy.
Suddenly the other fortress, sitting on the cliff top opposite, disintegrated into fire and smoke.
“Oh no.” Jeremy felt his knees weaken as Karlena wrapped her arms around him.
“It’s happening,” she said. “After all this time, it’s happening.”
He had to admit this was no mishap. Both fortresses were crashing into the tight passage, taking a good portion of the clifftops with them.
“Hard to port,” he hollered, turning the wheel as fast as he could. Several men outside the wheelhouse repeated the order, snapping everyone on deck back to reality. “Man the sails. We’re heading into the wind, lads.”
“Aye,” several chorused.
“I can feel it, Jeremy,” she told him. “This is it.”
“I think you’re right,” he replied.
Water burst into white spray at the base of the rock face to his right. The fallen rubble from both fortresses and boulders blocked Griralith Pass. No ships were going in or out.
“Where will we go now?” Karlena asked.
“We turn around and make for Oldcastle,” he told her as he slipped an arm around her waist.
“Will we go and see them?”
He held the wheel in place, steering the Adelandria to the left. He kissed her forehead, tasting the salt on her skin.
“They need to know,” he told her.
Moving the bow past the oncoming wind and directing the ship to the south, he manoeuvred the sails to tack through the breeze before bearing away.
Karlena ran back onto the deck to peer over the rails to the scene behind them.
Debris continued to fall into the pass. Plumes of white foam jetted into the air as heavy rubble hit the surface of the water after rolling from the pile of iron and rock building in the mouth of the passage.
Sharek came to her side, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“Do you feel it?” she asked.
Karlena nodded. “One of them is near.”
Standing high on top of the cliff, her scarlet robe trailing behind her like a waving banner as she watched the ship sail away on the rough seas, the witch sensed the warrior women far below. Her ruby eyes glared from beneath her hood as the vessel raced away to the south.
She knew of them.
She had been told.
She had been warned.
But it mattered not.
They were leaving on their vessel, fleeing for safety, away from her.
She turned her attention to the two pillars of smoke rising from the remains of the fortresses and into the stormy skies. Admiring the handiwork of her soldiers, she observed the scene for a short time before facing her waiting forces.
Five hundred men stood in formation, at attention, awaiting her orders.
“Ostford is ours,” she hissed. Her voice carried on the wind as if pushed by some invisible force, reaching the ears of all who could see her. “Griralith Pass is shut. We press south to Dellmoor and destroy all who oppose us.”
The men cheered at the news.
“War,” she told them, “has begun.”
Chapter One
Tall, green grass swayed gently in the breeze as cattle and sheep grazed together on the meadow. Wild flowers dotted the pastureland, displaying many colours that attracted insects. Small birds fluttered from the grove, darting after the tiny bugs before returning to the trees to feed their young.
The river ran high; the winter snow from the mountains was still melting and making its long journey to the Sea of Lunkhul. Water fowl had gathered to dive for fish and other tiny creatures that lived beneath the surface.
Sitting by the stream with her feet just beneath the surface of the water, Joanne Grenefeld sat with her eyes closed, soaking up the warm sun after another long winter.
Her house, built for her father, sat nestled at the bottom of the hill. She was sitting not more than a stone’s throw away from it, relaxing by the water.
The sound of the river lapping by the edge, the gentle wind moving through the reeds and the tiny squeaks the ducklings and goslings made as they swam around their ever watchful parents; all was soothing.
She opened her eyes and peered across the river to the vast expanse of land beyond. It had been nothing more than a mash when she first arrived. Her first spring here sent winter’s melting snow to that place where it remained, forming a boggy swamp.
The natural drainage for the excess build-up of water had been destroyed, so she had been told, during the dragon fire and destruction brought on by the Night Demons nearly twenty years earlier. The earth had been scorched and all life on the surface destroyed. Without plants and good soil to soak up the moisture, it simply collected.
When life did return, it was in the form of reeds, moss and algae. The water fowl seemed to appreciate it more than the human inhabitants of the land. There were moments during summers, she remembered, when a southerly wind would blow through the valley, sending the stench of the bog into the village. It was almost unbearable.
Antony, her father, had helped the men of the village dig a trench that stretched across the southern fields from the river to almost halfway towards the southern mountain pass. She remembered it was an arduous task for the men and took three years to complete, not counting winters.
But it had paid off.
Grass had returned. The earth was ploughed and crops were grown.
Three hefty stone bridges had been built, each just wide enough for one cart to cross. One was placed near the edge of the woods, the Lunkhul Forest. A second one was constructed near the bulk of the village, near to where Richard Dering’s cottage stood. The third sat near to her position, just to her left.
“Joanne,” a voice called from behind her. She turned to see a young blonde woman, not much older than herself, placing mugs upon a table by the door of her cottage.
“Here,” Joanne replied, lifting to her feet and waving.
The other waved back. “I’ve made lunch. Just toast and tea.”
Joanne picked up her boots with one hand as she lifted her black dress away from her wet feet before starting across the grass.
“Coming, Lucy,” she called, starting to jog.
The table sat neatly on a wooden porch under a wide awning. When Joanne reached the platform, Lucy had placed a hot teapot in the centre of the table and two plates with burnt pieces of thin bread.
“Looks appetising,” Joanne said as she sat down.
“Don’t jest.” Lucy smiled. “We know I can’t cook. Dip your toast in honey and drink your tea.”
“You didn’t burn the water?”
“Not funny,” Lucy said, and grinned.
“It’s a bit funny,” Joanne replied as she lifted the teapot and poured a cup for the other, then for herself.
The girls took turns breaking bread and dipping it into a small bowl that sat on the side of the table. In the bowl was a thick, amber-coloured honey collected from hives they kept on top of the hill.
Joanne thought it was a funny pastime she and Lucy had taken upon themselves. They harvested honey while others harvested corn and wheat, fruit and vegetables, meat and wool. Theirs seemed the easiest of the tasks required in the community.
Joanne looked towards the houses in the small township, a discernible distance from her cottage. Her father had chosen to live away from them, perhaps for her sake more than his.
Upon arriving, ten years ago, she was taken in with open arms by the whole community. After the word of what she had done at Blackrock Haven made its way to everyone’s ears, she wasn’t received in the same way again.
After the mill was built, her father requested that his house be built by the hill. Both Richard and Tomas had allowed it without question.
He told her it was because he didn’t feel as if he belonged. Yet he was actively involved in the construction of the lumber mill near the forest. He helped to build the new stable house that sat near the grove. The new meeting hall and many of the new cottages had his hand in their creation.
And then there was the trench.
The trench had taken three years, hard labour and a great amount of blood and sweat. The men worked hard to establish the channel, often getting stuck up to their middles in mud and filth.
Even when he started to get ill, he would still venture out with the men, protesting that he was quite capable of working. It was Tomas who eventually ordered him off the site and to bed, seeing that the old man was much more afflicted with illness than he had let on.
She knew he had built the house here for her.
“What’s the matter?” Lucy asked, perceiving her friend was in deep thought.
“I’m just remembering my father,” she answered. “It will almost be a year since he…”
She felt a tear fall down her cheek.
“He was a kind man to me,” Lucy told her. “There are not many men I could feel safe with after Blackrock Haven. David and Tomas; perhaps Simon. But your father treated me like a daughter, and I hadn’t felt like that in such a long time.”
Joanne remembered seeing Lucy on board the black ship, usually at Martha Wyngrove’s side, as if joined at the hip. Lucy Halloway was silent, always silent; traumatised by what many men had done to her in the warehouse near the docks, all because she had striking features that made her stand out from the others.
Ten years had passed, and Joanne still had trouble coping with her own memories of her time on board the black ship, of the scarred man with stinking breath and hungry eyes. She couldn’t imagine what went on in Lucy’s mind. The poor girl was fifteen when she was rescued. She had been there longer than Joanne and those who came with her.
“I am thankful to him for letting me stay here with you.” Lucy started to sob. “I am thankful to you for letting me stay.”
“You are a sister to me,” Joanne told her. “This is our house now.”
Lucy looked to the town. “What if one of them asks you to wed?”
“They won’t,” Joanne said. “They fear me. You, however…” She smiled, attempting to lighten the discourse. Their spirits should not be so low on such a fine day.
“I can’t…” Lucy shook her head. “I don’t think I could let another man touch me for as long as I live.”
Joanne put her toast down. Suddenly, she didn’t feel like eating any more.
“I’m sorry,” she said to Lucy.
“Why are you sorry?”
“I put us in such a dark mood,” Joanne explained.
“It’s a part of grieving.” Lucy wiped her eyes. “We all go through it.”
Joanne looked away from her friend and across the village. Something was still drawing her feelings downward, into the dark. It was more than the memory of her father.
“No.” Joanne stood up and looked to the west. “There’s something else. Something has happened. Something has made me feel this way. I mistook it for sadness and focused on my own loss, but it’s more. It’s out there.”
Lucy had seen moments when Joanne responded to some illusive attraction. Usually it was heightened intuition about things that affected the community. She remembered the time when Emily was pregnant with her first, Catherine. Moments before the pain came, Joanne had ordered her sister to get to bed and lie down. The same thing had happened again with Alice, their second.
This time was different.
This time brought deep concern.
“What is it?” Lucy asked.
“I don’t know,” she replied. “It’s like a storm is coming. But worse.”
“We should call the rest of the Seven,” Lucy told her. “Perhaps together, you can work this out.”
“I’ll speak to the others,” Joanne told her. She stepped off the porch and onto the grass.
“Your boots!” Lucy pointed to her bare feet.
“Come along.” Joanne beckoned with a wave of her hand, leaving her boots on the edge of the veranda. “We’ll go and see Emily and Tomas first.”
Leaving the tea and toast on the table, Lucy rose from her seat and crossed the grass to Joanne’s side. The auburn girl reached out her hand and took the other’s as they crossed the pastureland towards the township of Woodmyst.
“Tea?” Emily asked the two visitors as they sat together at the table, lifting her teapot, ready to pour the steaming beverage into cups she had placed before them. They both nodded as they watched two little girls playing with dolls on the edge of the veranda.
“I can’t remember ever doing that,” Lucy said, smiling as the girls made their dolls hug.
Emily felt the heavy presence resting upon both women, particularly Joanne. Knowing Lucy was susceptible to emotional breakdowns, she thought it would be best to find out why they had come.
“What can I do for you both?” she asked, moving her eyes over both of them.
“Something has happened,” Joanne replied. “I don’t know what it is, but I feel darkness and dread.”
“She started mourning your father all over again,” Lucy told the elder sister.
“It’s more than that,” Emily said, turning to Joanne, “isn’t it?”
Joanne nodded.
“It made you feel depressed?”
“Yes,” Joanne admitted.
“Then you started to think of Papa?”
She nodded again. Her throat felt tight.
Emily lifted her cup and sipped. She glanced at her daughters playing nearby as she placed the cup into a saucer on the table.
“I thought of Mama,” she said. “I thought of how she will never get to meet Tomas. How she’ll never see her granddaughters, Catherine and Alice. How she’ll never know how beautiful you turned out to be.
“I started to cry and thought that was really silly. We’ve been living here for years and I had finished my grieving for Mama long ago. Papa…” she paused for a moment. “Well, that’s different. It wasn’t that long ago since he left us.”
Joanne thought that was a nice way to explain their father’s demise, stating that he simply left.
“The girls felt it too, Joanne,” Emily said. Joanne looked to her sister with wide eyes. “They don’t understand what it is they have inside them. They just felt sad. I brought them out here to play, to get their minds off whatever this thing is. I intended to come to you later and talk with you, but you arrived shortly after.”
“We should tell Tomas,” Lucy said.
“He’s working in the stables,” Emily replied. “He’ll be home shortly. I’ll tell him about Catherine and Alice. But we need to tell him that you and I both felt something dark. We will need to gather the rest of The Seven to see if they have experienced this phenomenon also.”
Leaning against a support beam that held the awning over the veranda, Tomas sipped tea from a mug as he considered the words of the women sitting at the table.
He stood away from them so as to not offend them with the stench of straw, sweat and horse clinging to his skin. He watched his two girls running around on the grass near the house, but in the corner of his eye he could see Joanne watching him.
She was always watching him.
“We gather the Seven,” he said after a long time of consideration. “Our concern is this dark sensation you both experienced. Let’s see if they felt anything similar. If they did, you focus your abilities on that and see if you can locate it, or at least discover what it is.”
He turned towards the women and Joanne quickly moved her eyes to her cup of tea.
“I’ll open the meeting hall for you,” he told her. “Some men will keep watch so you are not interrupted.”
“Thank you, but no,” Joanne replied, meeting his eyes momentarily. “I would prefer to meet with the others on the ruins of the Great Hall. There is power there.”
“A terrible evil took place there, Joanne,” Tomas told her.
“I know,” she said. “But the victims were all good and innocent people. Something of them remained in that place.”
Tomas looked to her quizzically. “Their spirits are there?”
She shook her head, still not meeting his eyes. For ten years he had known her and she had not looked him directly in the eyes for more than a mere fraction of time. He had always thought it was because of what had happened to her on the ship when she was a child. He guessed that, like Lucy sitting to her side, her trust in men had been diminished and this included him.
She and Lucy had chosen to live in the house farthest from the village, away from the men. Tomas understood that sometimes the deepest wounds take a long time to heal, and some wounds never do. Wanting both of the women to feel comfortable, he never pressed them about the issue.
But Joanne was family and he thought she would feel some level of comfort around him, that she would allow herself to relax a little.
Her eyes remained on her cup.
“Not spirits,” she replied. “More of a presence. An aura. There is sadness and loss there. But there is goodness and light that surrounds the ruins. It feels sacred.”
Sacred.
Tomas liked that.
His mother had perished there and he had never known a more wholesome or virtuous person until he fell in love with Emily.
He looked across to his elder daughter who he named after his mother, Catherine. She was smiling at him with her nine-year-old grin; two teeth in the top front missing.
He couldn’t help but to stifle a laugh.
Luckily, he thought, she had the features of her mother. Long auburn hair and hazel eyes.
Alice, the younger at seven, had similar features in her face. Again, he was thankful for that. But her hair was dark and her eyes were the same shade of brown as his.
She was more adventurous than her elder sister, often found high up in a tree or swinging from the rafters of the bridges by her hands. Tomas believed she was life’s form of revenge for what he had bestowed upon his own parents as a child.
She was far more like him than he wished to admit.
He was a little saddened to learn they had both displayed a sensitivity to this sensation Emily and Joanne had felt. He’d hoped they would not share any of the abilities that their mother and aunt possessed.
But he wasn’t surprised.
Deep down, he knew this day would come.
“They will need to be taught,” Tomas told the women sitting at the table. “They will need to be shown how to control it.”
Emily moved to him and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“That time will come,” she told him, before kissing his cheek.
Joanne looked away from the couple, forcing her eyes upon the children at play.
“You smell like horse,” Emily told him.
“I’ll bathe this evening,” he told her before turning his attention to Joanne. “We should gather the others and head to the ruins. I’ll see if David and Simon can attend to keep watch for you.”
Chapter Two
Four men stood to the eastern side of where the Great Hall once abided. The ruins of old Woodmyst had been removed, and some of the stone used for the construction of the three bridges that crossed the river nearby.
Grass had reclaimed the village on both sides of the stream. Cattle moved into the area for grazing and some huts had been built a short distance from where they stood.
The only remnant of the old village was the Great Hall, or what was left of it.
The wooden beams and columns that were shaped like dragons, but which looked nothing like the monster that had burnt the building to the ground, were all gone. Only rubble and portions of the stone walls remained.
Inside the ruin, more grass covered the ground thickly, making Tomas think of a green carpet that neatly hemmed the toppled walls. In the centre of the wreckage, a lone tree grew. It was still young and stood not much taller than David Gyfford, the tallest man in the township.
It was an oak. It would grow tall and wide, perhaps laying claim to the area on which the Great Hall once stood. What Tomas found perplexing about the sapling was just how it managed to get itself so far from the forest.
The woods were still a good way to the west and the grove was roughly the same distance to the north. Apart from a bird dropping an acorn right on that spot in the very centre of the ruin, he couldn’t see any other way for the tree to have sprouted where it had.
He was tempted to pull it out when it first developed, but Emily asked him to leave it be. The council members agreed with her plea, seeing it as some good omen, and so it remained.
New life where death prevailed.
He was glad he had left it, not because he believed in omens, but because he thought it looked right. It belonged.
It was here, at the base of the oak tree, where the Seven gathered. Apart from Joanne, dressed in her black garments, the others had discarded their colours for regular attire.
They sat upon the grass, talking for a long time.
Tomas, keeping his distance, could perceive they had all felt something today. He watched as they rose to their knees and formed a circle. Joining hands, they closed their eyes and lifted their faces to the sky.
He couldn’t tell if words were exchanged as the Seven were united, but he did feel a change in the air. Something was transpiring between them.
“What are they doing?” David asked as he watched the women intently.
“I’m not sure,” Tomas replied.
“It’s the time,” Oliver told them, shrugging his shoulders. “That’s all it is.”
“Time?” David scrunched his face. “What do you mean time?”
“You know,” the other replied. “When a woman has her time.”
Simon started to laugh.
“What?” he managed. “All seven of them at once.”
“And my wife?” Tomas added.
“It doesn’t happen like that,” David said. “I’ve two wives and they don’t share the time.”
Simon started to laugh again.
“Time,” he chuckled before bursting into a laughing fit. Tomas found himself grinning too much, more at Simon’s response than Oliver’s word of the day, so he turned to face the river so that the women couldn’t see his face.
“Well, how am I to know?” the blond man asked defensively. “Unlike you, you giant ogre, I have only one wife.”
“And two sons to his one,” Simon mentioned, spurring the younger man on.
“And two sons to your one,” Oliver repeated.
Tomas started to snicker, keeping his face turned away.
“Oh,” David piped. “So I’m inadequate in the sack? Is that what you’re saying, Oliver?”
“Two sons to his one,” Simon whispered.
“Oh quiet, you,” Oliver told him. “You’ve none.”
“Well that was a bit below the belt.” Simon frowned.
Something in Tomas’ mind blinked to life. He had never considered Simon’s lack of children an issue, until this very moment.
“Have you ever wondered about that?” he said, turning back around to face the Seven. They were still engaged in their union holding hands with their faces towards the sky.
“What?” Simon asked. “Why I haven’t had children? It’s not through lack of trying.”
“That’s a little harsh, isn’t it Tomas?” David said to the other, taking on a serious demeanour. “I mean; a joke is a joke. But this…”
“I didn’t mean it that way,” Tomas replied. “And I’m not suggesting you’re not capable, Simon. I’m wondering why none of the Seven has been able to have children.”
The three men followed Tomas’ gaze to the women sitting by the tree in the middle of what once was the Great Hall. They hadn’t considered it either.
“I just thought we weren’t meant to have children,” Simon said as he looked to Tricia, his wife.
She was to Joanne’s right, her dark hair trailing over her back loosely. He remembered back to when they had brought her home from Blackrock Haven, wearing her scarlet garments. She was happy to be rid of them, burning the red clothing when she finally and gratefully received new vestments from the village’s women.
At first, he had all but ignored her, seeing her advances towards him as nothing more than a simple infatuation from an adolescent girl. It wasn’t until she was sixteen, and he twenty-five, that he started to have strong feelings towards her.
Still, not feeling comfortable within himself, he talked with Richard and Tomas extensively, seeking their guidance. Richard told him to look to his own relationship with Becka. She was young, around the same age as Tricia, when he fell in love with her, and he was much older than Simon at the time. Tomas simply told him to ask her how she felt. If she shared his feelings, then he should act.
So he did.
For five years, they had been trying for children. For five years, he believed one of them was unable to do so.
Now that Tomas had pointed out the obvious, that none of the Seven had given birth, he realised there was more to the issue than he had first believed.
“Are they cursed?” he asked.
The men turned to him and sensed his concern.
“Do you love her?” Oliver asked him.
“Of course I do,” Simon replied. “I would die for her.”
“Then, what does it matter if you don’t have children?” The blond man clasped a hand onto his friend’s shoulder. “You have each other.”
As Tomas observed the women rising to their feet and dropping their hands to their sides, he did think it was a strange phenomenon that not one of them had children. Apart from Joanne, they had all married men in the village and were still young; just out of their teenage years. Having children was not something Tomas placed on a schedule, but it was unusual for the wedded women of his village to not have at least one baby before the age of twenty.
Joanne came to Tomas’s side, and gave him a quick smile before turning her eyes to the other women of the Seven. Most of them started back across the grass towards the village as Tricia wrapped her arms around Simon’s neck, planting a long kiss on his lips.
“Not through lack of trying,” Oliver mumbled, shaking his head as he turned to follow the other five women towards the township.
“What’s the time, Oliver?” David said with a cheeky smile as he started away from the ruins.
“It’s about…” the other started to reply, looking to the sun, before he realised that the giant was taking a shot at him for his earlier remark. “Bastard!”
Tomas started to snicker again.
They walked slowly across the field, side by side. Tomas felt her eyes upon him as he looked away, but she moved them to the ground, obscuring her face beneath her hood as he turned to look at her.
She walked with her arms folded inside the sleeves of her cloak. Apart from her mouth and chin, she was concealed beneath her dark apparel.
“So,” he began, “what did you discover?”
“We have all felt it,” she told him. “Each of us took it as our own mood initially. But it is something more.”
“Do you know what it is?”
“We know it is far away,” she replied. “But all around. Like a wall. There is something familiar about it. It reminds me of how I felt around the White Mistress. But more and darker. I don’t know how else to explain it.”
“Do you remember when we were in the throne room?” Tomas asked her.
“Yes,” she answered. She pictured the Green Mistress being pushed through the air and into the wall behind her throne. She remembered the violent scene as blood and flesh slapped loudly onto the stone floor after she and the other young girls of the Seven had finished with Yasmeen Svoboda, the Sovereign. “How can I forget?”
“Do you remember when she said that war would come?”
“I do.” Joanne looked to him. He was facing the village, not watching her. She traced his strong jaw to his lips with her eyes. He started to turn his head towards her. Quickly, she lowered her gaze to the grass and swallowed hard.
What is wrong with you, Joanne? He’s your sister’s husband!
“There are others like her,” he told her. “Maybe they are on the move?”
“I don’t know for certain,” she told him. “But it would seem there is a strategy at work.”
He looked to the southern valley, the plateau filled with freshly ploughed ground. Some of it was seeded, the rest waiting to be sown.
Hoping his gut instincts were wrong, he considered how to defend his little community. If this was the birth pangs of war, and if it was the war that the green witch had warned them of, then the Mistresses would be coming for them.
The Seven had destroyed their leader and the white witch had escaped. She knew where Tomas had come from, which would place Woodmyst amongst her chief targets.
Another would be the crew of the Adelandria. But they had canon, Tomas thought, and they could put up a good fight.
Woodmyst, however, had no defences except for natural obstructions that would force an enemy into the open. The only advantage the little village had was that they would see their demise coming.
She was watching him again. He could feel her eyes on him.
He wondered if it was a dislike towards him that made her avoid his eyes.
Was she angry, even after all this time, because he had wedded her sister?
Was it something else entirely?
Perhaps her resentment of men was silently being directed towards him.
Maybe she was having difficulty learning how to trust him after what that bastard did to her on the ship.
He started to feel angry, remembering she was only eleven at the time. How he wished he could have flayed the scarred man. He imagined himself chopping pieces from the man, saving a certain body part for last before administering the final blow.
Emily had the honour of taking the scarred one’s life, and he envied her for it.
Still, after all this time, Joanne still wouldn’t look at him directly face to face.
He wondered if she ever would.
“Goodnight,” Tomas said as he leaned in to kiss Alice on the head. She pulled the covers up to her face.
“Ew,” she whined. “Scratchy.”
“Papa needs a shave?” he asked her.
“Yes,” she replied with a wide grin.
“Well,” he told her. “I’ll get right on that in the morning.”
He turned to the adjacent wall where another bed was positioned. Emily was crouching beside it as she tucked Catherine into her blankets.
“Goodnight,” she said to the elder daughter, planting a kiss on her forehead.
“Goodnight, Mama,” the girl replied as Tomas lowered himself beside her. Emily crossed the room to repeat the ritual with Alice.
“Goodnight, my pretty girl,” Tomas told his daughter.
“Good night, Papa,” she smiled, exposing her upper gum where two teeth used to sit.
“Let’s hope those teeth grow soon,” he said, rising to his feet.
“Papa,” she called to him quietly.
“Yes,” he replied.
“Come closer,” she instructed him.
He thought she might have wanted another hug, so he lowered himself to her level again.
“What is it, my princess?”
“Can you loosen my blanket?” she requested. “Mama has tucked me in too tightly.”
He chuckled softly as he reached around her to pull the blankets out a little from beneath her bedding.
“How is that?”
“Better,” she replied. “Thank you.”
He kissed her on the forehead again, “Go to sleep.”
Husband and wife walked along the hallway from the bedrooms to the living area of the house. It was a largish room with six deep, cushioned seats placed near a fireplace. A table for dining sat to one side of the room with a small kitchen, equipped with a broad stove and benches.
Tomas was proud of his design, even prouder when the roof proved its worth during the first rain that they had experienced in the new house. Needing the bigger dwelling after Catherine’s birth, and even more so with the arrival of Alice, Tomas had busied himself with the construction of their new home and moved his family in only two years after returning from Blackrock Haven.
“Tea?” Emily asked as she moved into the kitchen.
“Please.” Tomas yawned as he lowered himself into a soft chair by a window. Floral curtains, the material chosen by his wife when they visited Oldcastle long ago, hung neatly from a curtain rod that extended the window’s length.
The house had been built raised off the ground upon a platform, resting upon stone pillars that lay on their sides, allowing water to pass beneath the house without wetting the floorboards. It was a proud achievement for Tomas.
The decoration; the matching material of the furniture and complementary fabric of the curtains was all Emily’s work. While he built the structure, with the help of his friends, she made it a home worth living in.
Others had seen what they could achieve and emulated it in their own houses. Several of the huts that they once lived in had been replaced with more sophisticated, more civilised dwellings.
Woodmyst had come a long way, he thought.
“Here.” Emily handed him a mug. The liquid was hot, steaming and sweet smelling. He sipped it as she sat in a chair beside his.
“Thank you,” he told her. She was nursing her own cup, waiting for it to cool a little. She never could understand how he could drink it so hot.
“What are you going to do?” she asked him.
He looked to her, not sure what she was referring to. They had just put the children to bed, which usually meant he was going to fall asleep in his chair soon. But something told him she didn’t want to know about that.
“About the war?” She gave him a look that told him he was thicker than a tree trunk.
“Oh,” he replied. “Well, first, we don’t know if there is a war for certain. But I will talk with the council tomorrow.”
“You’re not going to try and work out defences for the town?”
“We haven’t had to work out defences since the attack of the Night Demons,” he told her. “And that didn’t work out too well for us in the end.”
She nodded, sipping her tea. It was still too hot.
“Your sister hates me, by the way,” he said.
“What?”
“She won’t look me in the eye,” Tomas raised his eyebrows. “She watches me when she thinks I’m not looking and then, when I do, she turns away. She’ll look at the ground, the sky, a pile of horse shit before she looks at me.”
Emily started to giggle.
“What?” he asked.
She covered her mouth and shook her head.
“What?” he repeated. “Tell me, woman.”
“She doesn’t hate you, Tomas,” she chuckled. “She’s in love with you.”
He almost spilled his tea.
No way.
She read the astonished look on his face.
“She’s been in love with you for a long time,” she told him, reaching out to his hand.
“She won’t even speak to me unless you’re there,” he said. “How could you know? Did she tell you this?”
“No,” Emily answered. “I just know.”
“You sensed it?”
“I did.” She nodded. “But I could see it when she does sneak a look at you. She admires you. She holds you deep in her thoughts and she even lusts after you.”
“Oh no.” Tomas placed his mug upon a small table sitting between his and Emily’s chair before rising to his feet. He placed a hand on his hip and the other on his forehead.
This is not good.
Emily giggled, obviously not feeling a tightness in the chest like he was experiencing. He shook his head as he lowered his hand to cover his mouth.
She put her cup down upon the table next to his and stood behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist.
“It’s all right,” she assured him. “She’s more embarrassed about it than you will be.”
“I’m not going to be able to look at her the same ever again,” he told his wife. “I wish I never knew.”
“Why don’t you wed her?” she asked him.
“Don’t jest about this, Emily,” he instructed her. “This isn’t some little girl’s infatuation. She’s a woman.”
“A woman with needs and desires,” she said.
“She’s your sister.” He turned to face her, placing his hands on her shoulders.
“I know,” Emily replied. “Which makes me more concerned for her than all other women in this village. She’s family.”
“So, let some other man marry her.” He lowered his hands and walked across the room to the kitchen.
“No other man will have her, Tomas. Andris was the closest thing to a male companion for her. But he was only bound by duty, not love. And then he found love with Sevrina. She never admitted it, but that did hurt her a little.”
Tomas thought of the boys that were assigned to the Seven while they lived in Blackrock Castle. Andris had sworn to protect and serve Joanne, the Black Miss. After his liberation, he clung to that role for some time and found it hard to let it go. That was until he met Sevrina Verney.
Sevrina was the sister of Lor, Tomas’ childhood friend and a member of the council. The moment she laid eyes on Andris, she fell in love, as did he. It wasn’t long before they were wed. He recalled the evening of the celebration and how Joanne hadn’t attended. Tomas thought at the time it was so she could keep Lucy company, as the other was still wrestling with her fear towards others at the time.
But Emily was right with what she had said. Joanne had never been approached by any of the men in Woodmyst. He found this perplexing as she was a very beautiful woman and would have men fighting over her in normal circumstances.
He knew that she was still without a husband because she possessed a power that they didn’t understand. The other girls of the Seven had found their men, but they weren’t like her. They weren’t as powerful.
He leant his back against the kitchen bench, placing his hands upon its edge, by his sides. Looking to Emily, who moved towards him, he frowned as he gave thought to Joanne’s plight.
“I love you,” he told his wife. “And I love her because she’s your sister and I love you.”
She slid her arms around him.
“I know,” she replied.
He embraced her and kissed her forehead.
“David has two wives,” she said. “And they seem to be fine.”
“David shares a bed with his two wives,” Tomas informed her. “And they are fine with the arrangement.”
She seemed to freeze, suddenly contemplating the living arrangements.
“Now, you’re thinking about it a little more,” he said. “Aren’t you?”
“Well I…” she started.
“You didn’t consider where she will be if I want to lie with you,” Tomas mentioned. “Nor did you consider where you will be if I want to lie with her. We only have two rooms and our daughters are in one of them.”
She swallowed, it was loud.
“I’m fine with it,” she told him.
“You’re thinking about her welfare and not in the long term of how you will feel about it,” he informed her.
“No,” she said obstinately, “it’s all right. We can make it work.”
He breathed a sigh.
“All right,” he reluctantly said. “I’ll consider it a bit more. If I decide to ask her, the outcome will rely on her decision. She may not see this the way you do, Emily. She may say no.”
Emily conceded and nodded, “You’re right. She may say no. Considering that Lucy is in the picture also.”
“Well of course,” Tomas agreed. “She’s living in the house with Joanne. It would be hard to leave her on her own like that.”
“No,” Emily said. “You really aren’t that bright are you? They’re lovers.”
Tomas was dumbstruck.
“Why?” he started to ask. But that wasn’t right. His concern wasn’t about who the women chose to bed with, but why his wife was pushing him to wed her sister. He moved away from her and back to the living room. “How do…?”
Stopping himself again, he still couldn’t find the right words, so he sat down and stared at the rug.
“She doesn’t need a husband if they have each other,” Emily said. “That’s what you’re thinking.”
He nodded.
“She loves you, Tomas,” his wife told him, lowering to her knees before him. “She needs you.”
“Lucy needs her,” he replied. “She won’t last without Joanne. And now you tell me that they’re lovers? They’re as good as husband and wife, or wife and wife, or whatever it is called.”
“She may need to move in with us too,” Emily suggested. “We’ll need a bigger house.”
“Bigger…” He shook his head in disbelief. “How will Lucy feel about this arrangement? I don’t think you’ve thought this through.
“I’m not David. I have one wife whom I love very much.” He leant forward and placed his hands gently on her cheeks. “Tonight, she is proving to be more than a handful. I don’t think I’m able to cope with two, or potentially three grown women under the same roof.”
She started to sob softly.
“No.” He leant into her. “Don’t cry.”
“I know it’s a silly idea,” she blubbered.
“I will talk with her,” he told her. “I will. But only about her feelings towards me. I don’t think I could consider another marriage without consulting Richard in any case. Given what you have told me, I’m not sure it would be wise.”
“I’m just concerned for her,” Emily said as Tomas wiped her tears with his thumbs.
“I know.” He smiled.
“I want what’s best for her.”
“And that’s me.” He nodded. “I’m the best. But the best is yours.”
She grinned.
“I’ll talk to her,” he said. “I’ll talk to both of them, her and Lucy, and we’ll see what they say about it. All right?”
She nodded. “All right.”
“No more discussion about this until afterwards. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” she replied.
He helped her to her feet and kissed her on her forehead.
“Now,” he said. “Drink your tea before it gets too cold.”
She sat back in her chair, wiping tears away as she retrieved her cup. There was still a thin vapour of steam rising from the surface as she lifted it to her lips.
Tomas swallowed his tea in three mouthfuls as he tried to get his head around what had just transpired.
Chapter Three
“I really don’t have an answer for you, Tomas,” Richard said, sitting on his porch to soak up the morning sun as it rose above the hill. “Marrying another woman is a big decision that I can’t make for you. I do agree with Emily, however. Joanne isn’t going to find a man that will be willing to wed her. But the issue with Lucy, and your living arrangements; that’s perplexing.”
“I am really at a loss, Richard.” Tomas looked towards the river.
“Just talk to them first,” Becka told him. She was sitting beside her husband listening to the conversation as she darned a pair of Richard’s trousers. “Joanne may not even want to marry you. Her loyalty to her sister might cause her to deny herself of you. That may be what she has been doing all this time. She loves you, but she could be choosing not to love you openly for yours and Emily’s sake.”
“But Emily knows,” Tomas replied.
“Yes,” Becka admitted. “But she doesn’t know that you do. This could open a door that can never be closed.”
Tomas sighed. He had hoped to get a straight answer. Instead, he ended up with more questions, more concerns and more troubles.
“You still need to talk to them,” Richard told him. “It wouldn’t be fair on you if you carry this with you for the rest of your life without letting it free. Yes, it may cause more concerns. But better for them to be in the open than to secretly harbour them where they will eat you away.”
“What if she says yes?” Tomas asked.
“What if they both say yes?” Becka asked him. “Did you consider that? You may end up taking on two extra wives instead of one.”
“Then your living conditions will certainly be inappropriate,” Richard put in.
Tomas looked to the sky. “What will I do then?”
“I have an idea,” Becka told him. “Why not build a new house? Build it as an additional part to your existing home. Join it by linking the porch to the other house.”
“Two houses?” Richard asked her.
“Yes.” She nodded. “Side by side. You and Emily will live in one. Joanne and Lucy will live in the other. Even if she doesn’t want to wed you, at least you will have your family together. It’s time that both those girls came into the fold instead of living out by the hill.”
“That’s something I’ll need to talk with them about first,” he replied. “I like the idea of having Catherine’s and Alice’s aunt close by. But they may want to remain on the outskirts.”
Richard nodded.
“You should do what you think is best,” the old man said. “Just know that both Becka and I will support you.”
“Thank you both,” Tomas said as he lifted himself to his feet. He kissed Becka on the cheek and clasped a hand on Richard’s shoulder. “I’ll see you at midday in the meeting hall for council?”
“You will,” he replied.
Tomas made his way through the village, towards the hill. He guessed there was no time like the present to discuss his concerns with Joanne and Lucy. The conversation was inevitable and regardless of the outcome, it needed to be addressed.
The walk to their cottage by the hill didn’t last as long as he would have liked it to. His thoughts had been stuck in visions of what it would be like to have two, perhaps three wives. He knew there were men who fantasised of lying with more than one woman, and others who had done so. But it had never crossed his mind to partake in such a fantasy himself.
He loved Emily, and from the moment he laid eyes on her, he knew he was in love. The moment when they first lay with each other was set in his mind and his heart. She was the one.
Now, he was standing on the grass outside the cottage where Joanne and Lucy dwelled. He stared at the door, mustering up the courage to knock on the door.
Forcing himself forward, he placed one foot softly upon the porch and lifted himself to the level of the veranda. Another step forward put him directly in front of the thick, timber door.