ESKER III
Esker was confused by the creature in the cell next to her. It was smaller than the other top dwellers that came to torment her and expressed no malice. At first she had thought that it would suffer the same mistreatment which had become part of her normal routine and was surprised by how much that enraged her; instead her neighbor was given plush plant fibers to sleep on, was well fed, and could come and go as it pleased. What truly shocked her was that the moment the disgusting creature limped away, who she assumed was the jailor, her cellmate timidly offered some of its own food. It had carefully saved half its meal, none of which looked especially appetizing, wrapped in a piece of cloth and gently tossed the bundle into Esker’s cage. She wrinkled her nose at the food’s stench, but her stomach growled insistently.
Esker studied the creature, suspicious of its intentions, and it seemed to wilt under her gaze. Its visage was still swollen and red from the distress it had embarrassingly expressed throughout the night. She tried to remain stoic, but was desperately hungry and still weak from the injuries she suffered when the work tunnel collapsed. The beatings inflicted by her captors had also taken their toll. When Esker slowly reached for the bundle of food at her feet, the creature, who was watching with both hands on the bars that separated them, opened its mouth and barred its strange rectangular teeth. Esker was disgusted by this unseemly and threatening sight, then was puzzled by the creature’s response: it lowered its eyes and turned partially away from her. Esker had never been so confused. Everything about this place was alien and the monstrosities that populated it had never shown any civility. Yet now the smallest of these creatures not only seemed to show deference to her, but also compassion.
Esker carefully unwrapped the bundle of food, pretending not to notice that the creature was watching her out of the corner of its small eyes. The pungent aroma and unfamiliar textures of the meal nearly made her gag. In an effort to show appreciation, she took several bites and even forced a burp. Esker was perplexed by the distain that was apparent on her neighbor’s face. Its tiny nose wrinkled and its lips curled slightly down. Despite the distracting company and the unappetizing nature of her provisions, she continued diligently out of hunger. As she finished chewing the final morsel and swallowed, steps reverberated from the hallway leading to the cells. The creature in the cell next to her was wide-eyed in fright and desperately reached through the bars of the cell towards her. It made frantic noises she could not understand. She looked down and at the cloth that her neighbor had carefully wrapped the meal in. At once she understood, balling up the cloth in the fist of her only remaining hand and trying to throw it over to the bars that separated their cells. Unfortunately, the small wad of cloth had little weight and fell well short, now out of reach of both of them. She had no idea what the creature was saying, but its terror was apparent.
As the echoes of footfalls danced on the stone walls, two distinct pairs of steps became discernible. One walked with a cadence matching the limp of the jailor, the other was unfamiliar. They were not as defiant as that of the monster with the metal hands, nor as light as those from her slender neighbor, who was now babbling frantically. It struggled to reach through the bars, yet its slender shoulders were slightly too wide to fit through the gap. Esker adjusted herself and the chain that shackled her to the wall, so that she could extend a foot towards the bundle of cloth, but was still nearly an entire leg’s length shy of reaching it. A voice now accompanied the approaching steps. Something about the tone and quality of the sound made Esker feel like she had swallowed a stone and it was sinking in her belly. With a rattle of the chain that bound her, she tucked her legs behind her body and extended her hand towards the wad of fabric. She felt a bit foolish as she closed her eyes and focused on the stories of the stone shapers that her amah had told her play-brood. Tales of wonder and magic, of abilities beyond mortal comprehension. Of Tengu who were one with stone and could control it like an extension of their body. She began to tremble with concentration, visualizing herself once again in the embrace of the womb of the world, protecting the warm heart buried so deeply below.
The steps were now directly around the corner, but Esker was deep in concentration and no longer heard them. What broke her from her reverie was a gasp from her cellmate and the pitter-patter of sand and gravel dancing on stone. As she opened her large pale eyes, she saw a sight she could not explain: extending from where she held her hand, the floor rippled like water. The debris coating the ground moved forward in cone shaped waves, gaining momentum until they collided with the bundle of cloth and gently pushed it towards her companion’s outstretched hand. The creature’s eyes opened nearly as wide as hers, before it snatched up the wad of fabric and shuffled quickly away from the bars. Esker heard the jangling of iron keys as two figures came into view: one was her filthy jailor, while the other was unknown to her. It had the same pale skin as the other monsters she had encountered during her captivity, but while it was taller than the stooping jailor, it lacked the powerful build of the one with metal hands. This one was dressed in elegant silks and the disgusting hair on its pasty face was carefully manicured. While the outward appearance was not threatening, the ease with which it moved sent the rock within Esker’s belly sinking ever deeper: this creature was a predator.
As the jailor fumbled with the keys and unlocked her cell door, Esker averted her eyes and studied the grimy floor. She could feel the lavishly adorned stranger’s gaze upon her. After the door swung open, the jailor jabbered something in its incomprehensible tongue as it pointed towards Esker, yet the newcomer did not seem concerned and entered her cell alone. The loose hanging fabric it wore swished softly as it approached, the grace of the movements betrayed martial training. Like she had with the monster with metal hands, she showed deference and carefully lowered her forehead to the filthy rushes lining the floor, pressing her long nose into the stone. When she slowly raised her head, she saw the colorfully dressed creature standing above her, well within reach of her only arm, even with the manacle restricting it. It watched her with unblinking eyes the color of emeralds and she could not help but think that this was a test. With a blur of motion the pale creature raised its hand and snapped its fingers. The jailor limped across the cell, stopping well short of Esker, unwilling to be in as close proximity. The unyielding eyes of the newcomer turned towards the jailor, whose mouth opened, revealing the extent of the decay within and quickly shut. The jailor moved laterally past Esker, shuffling carefully, put a boot into her back and forced her forward. She heard another jangle of keys, followed by the click of a lock releasing. Suddenly the tension in her arm relaxed as the chain slithered limply to the stone floor. The creature in the silks said something softly. Groaning with the effort, the jailor bent over and retrieved the end of the chain, placing it into the newcomer’s outstretched hand.
With a yank on the chain connected to Esker’s manacle, the newcomer pulled her to her feet and gestured dismissively towards the open cell door. Her muscles were fatigued and cramped from captivity, but Esker did her best to muster some grace. She walked in a shuffling limpwith her head held high, leading her captors out of the prison she had been confined in for at least the span of a work order, perhaps longer. As she ascended the stone stairway and exited the dungeons, she could hear the soft footfalls of her cellmate following behind. The light became more and more unbearable as she left the coolness of stone and emerged into an open courtyard. A blinding source of heat and luminance was suspended far above. There was no roof to this cavern, no stalactites hanging familiarly overhead. Esker squinted her eyes and tried to shield them with her forearm, but all she could see was an endless expanse of aquamarine, dotted with what looked like soft tufts of steam. The slack on her chain grew taut and she halted, lowering her gaze down, down, down, past the walls of this fortress and upon that of her tormentor, the one with metal hands. It sat atop a four legged beast, adorned in poorly crafted armor and was accompanied by dozens and dozens of other mounted warriors. A robed creature sprouting wild tufts of white hair was frantically addressing her tormentor, yet its baleful eyes were locked upon Esker the entire time.
With a metallic rattle, the monster with metal hands raised its armored fist and pointed towards the gates of the fortification. In unison all of the mounted warriors departed, followed by a contingent on foot. As the reinforced gates closed, the newcomer in silk pulled Esker close enough that she could smell its delicately scented breath. It pivoted her, turning her back around to the entrance of the dungeon. She began to trot obediently towards it and was jerked to a halt by the chain. She turned in confusion and saw the newcomer pointing past her, up towards the endless aquamarine above. As the corner of the newcomer’s mouth curled upward, the jailor laughed in a coarse bark. Esker turned and the stone in the pit of her stomach brought her to her knees. High above the entrance to her cool and dark prison, suspended on the side of a tower by chains was Loess, or what was left of him. The brightness became unbearable and she saw nothing but white.
———
Esker stumbled blindly as she was led back down to her cell, mourning for her workmate Loess. She owed him her life and vowed to bring word of his sacrifice back to her people. She was so deeply lost in thought that she did not notice her slender cellmate return. It carefully cradled a bundle that Esker initially assumed was more food, but upon raising her nose in the air, she caught a different scent: that of charcoal. Her neighbor sat patiently, she was touched by its consideration and apparent sympathy. Once it noticed that Esker’s attention was upon the clothbound bundle that it clutched, her cellmate’s face became expressive. With meticulous care the bundle was laid flat on the dingy floor of the dungeon, revealing several thin instruments the length of Esker’s shortest fingers, a glass jar filled with an opaque black liquid and a blank sheet of cloth or plant matter. Her cellmate placed a small hand on its chest and made a strange sound. It then repeated the gesture and the sound. Confused and intrigued, Esker moved as close as her manacle allowed and studied the creature intently. Once again it brought its hand to its chest and said, “Ghee-omm.” It then delicately lifted one of the thin instruments, uncorked the jar of liquid and dipped the pointed tip of the instrument into it. Holding it over the blank sheet, her neighbor carefully drew the point back and forth in a scratching motion. It etched indecipherable symbols onto the surface of this sheet, totaling what looked to be nine separate characters. Her cellmate touched its chest once more and said, “Ghee-omm,” then pointed at the drawing and repeated the sound. Esker furrowed her brow as the creature gestured towards her and waited expectantly.
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Esker’s cellmate exhaled impatiently and put down the writing instrument before making another attempt. Once again it put a hand on its chest and said, “Ghee-omm.” This time it then gestured towards Esker expectantly.
She was stumped. It was trying to communicate something, yet she could only guess at the meaning. Then she had an epiphany. With a rattle of chains, she brought her hand to her chest and responded with the name of her people, “Tengu.”
The creature’s face lit up in an overly familiar display of emotions, which Esker found to be slightly embarrassing. It then gestured from head to toe with a hand and said, “Jot-man.”
Esker thought for a moment and quickly grew excited. Jot-man must be its name! She repeated the gesture of holding her hand to her chest and said, “Tengu,” once more before gesturing head to toe and saying, “Esker,” with a proud look on her face. Jot-man was clearly pleased, she could see it in its eyes; what confused her was that it once again barred its tiny teeth in a grimace.
LIADAN II
Despite the proclamation that Liadan had performed a miracle, Abbess Segnat had insisted that amends must be made to senior Sister Fleurie. Liadan was locked in a windowless penitence chamber and instructed to seek forgiveness from the Broken Man and the Holy Mother to atone for injuring Sister Fleurie. Since the abbey was only partially constructed, the cell Liadan was locked in was made out of coarse wood, instead of stone, and was situated on the periphery of the compound. Slivers of light filtered through the tiny cracks between the close-fit planks of wood and the confines were unbearably stuffy. Since the chamber was intended for those seeking forgiveness, it was only tall enough to accommodate a person who rested upon their knees in prayer and barely had the width to turn around with the door shut. Putrified straw covered the dirt floor, making every aspect of this wooden chamber inhospitable. Liadan tried her best to pray for penitence, yet not only struggled to understand what she had done wrong, but also with what had transpired during her altercation with Sister Fleurie. As Liadan’s breathing slowed, she slipped into an unfamiliar state of mind: she simultaneously felt the bottomless pain of loss, while also feeling the capacity for endless love of all living creatures.
Liadan was lost in a fugue of seemingly incompatible emotions for what felt like an eternity. With her eyes closed she could see stars winking into existence in an endless black void: sunbursts and tumultuous collisions between massive orbs of matter. The beginning and end, rebirth and decay. She no longer felt the insulated heat of the wooden cell or the dull throb of her knees on the hardpacked dirt. She instead felt comfort in knowing that she was a tiny part of something truly magnificent. When she opened her eyes, she could see clearly. She was still in the same position of penance and remained confined in a windowless chamber, however, white light emanated from everywhere and nowhere, illuminating the grains of the timber surrounding her. Once again she saw the night sky, this time embedded in the swirls and rings of the wood. In an instant, the entire life cycle of the tree used to construct her prison was burned into her mind. From seed to sprout, from sprout to sapling, and finally from sapling to tree, bursting joyously through a leafy canopy and into the glorious sun. She winced in pain as an axe bit into the tree’s bark and felt its life draining as sap bled down the trunk. The pangs of isolation as the root system was severed, the feeling of being truly alone: screaming with no possibility of ever being heard.
Liadan’s head crashed into the low ceiling when she was surprised by the latch unfastening on the door behind her. A small panel inlaid on the door slid open roughly and a soft voice whispered through the aperture, “Lia, I apologize for not defending you in front of the senior sisters. I know in my heart that you did no wrong, please take this as a token of my own penance.” Splinters dug into Liadan’s skin and tore at her habit as she maneuvered in the tight confines. Once she was able to fully turn around, she could see a pair of friendly eyes framed by the opening in the door, and recognized Orlaith. The girl’s hand was backlit by twilight as a bundle of food was carefully passed throughthe small panel in the door. “Please eat quickly, Lia. I need the cloth I wrapped your dinner in, or they will know that I came to see you.”
“Thank you Orlaith,” Liadan responded between hasty bites. Once Liadan started eating, the extent of her hunger became apparent. She had missed the mid-day meal by being sequestered for questioning in the misericord and now got the sense that it was well past supper of the next day. Savoring the last bite, it dawned on her that Orlaith had gifted her entire dinner and Liadan felt a knot of guilt tighten in her stomach. “Did you have anything to eat Orlaith?” she whispered softly through the open panel in the door.
The younger girl looked over her shoulder like a frightened bird before responding, “Do not worry about me, Sister Fleurie is still in a foul mood. I heard her arguing with the Abbess during the apprenticeship hours. Sis Lia, do you think our village is-” Suddenly the girl tensed and hissed through the hatch, “She is coming! My handkerchief Lia, I need it now!” As soon as the cloth was fed through the opening, the hatch slid shut. Liadan could hear soft steps moving away in a clockwise direction around the penitence chamber. Simultaneously, authoritative steps crunched along the gravel path, crackling and foreboding. Liadan’s legs were cramping terribly and she yearned to be free of her confines, yet dreaded where she would be brought next. An approaching voice was humming atonally and Liadan could hear the rhythmic slap of a cane or switch against a leg. The steps stopped sharply outside the penitence chamber and a key released the lock. As the door creaked open, the silhouette of a sister’s habit was backlit by the faint glow of the setting sun. Even in the low light, Liadan blinked furiously to acclimate to the change in brightness. The cane snapped out and caught her on the cheek smartly.
“Out now girl! You may have the others fooled, but I see the devil’s temptation in you.” With blood starting to trickle down her face, Liadan awkwardly crawled out of the wooden penitence box towards Sister Fleurie. The senior sister towered over her with a severe look and pursed her thin lips. “I am quite sure you will bow, scrape, and offer up extravagant lies, beseeching forgiveness. Know well girl, that I see you for the backwoods whore that you are!” As Sister Fleurie narrowed her flinty eyes, Liadan could not help but notice her heavily bandaged right hand. The rushes within the penitence box had not been freshly changed and now the elbows of Liadan’s white postulant linens were stained; her knees were equally sullied, but the black of her dress masked the extent of the grime. She brushed at her elbows as quickly as she could and stood facing Sister Fleurie with her head bowed in supplication. After a long moment the older nun sniffed, turned sharply on her heels and walked back towards the abbey along the gravel path. Liadan followed obediently behind, watching Sister Fleurie’s cane swish back and forth, occasionally snapping upward to knock an insect out of the air.
The white gravel pathway arced towards the grounds of the abbey and the extensive construction that was underway. Stone foundations for the chapel had been laid in place, but due to issues with a nearby quarry, work had been stalled. Empty scaffolding towered overhead like the skeletal remains of a massive beast. To the south lay the vestry, chapter house, kitchen, and the dorter for the senior nuns, all surrounding an open-aired cloister. A temporary and smaller wooden chapel extended out of the back of the structure that housed the kitchen and the refectory, which was where the nuns, postulants, and neophytes all took their meals. As Sister Fleurie neared the structure that would eventually house the infirmary and the accompanying misericord, Liadan sped up so she was only a step and a half behind the senior nun. “Sister Fleurie, I am terribly sorry for what happened to your-“ Liadan started to say, before Sister Fleurie abruptly stopped and whirled to face her.
The cane was held menacingly in Sister Fleurie’s left hand. “I will grant a witch no forgiveness, for the Lord warns of your treacherous ways. The honeyed tongue of the serpent, dripping with venom!” The middle aged Jotman woman was more than a head taller than Liadan and her arm trembled with fury. “Not another word, or you will taste the Lord’s justice,” Sister Fleurie said while brandishing her cane. Just as quickly, she turned away from Liadan and continued her methodical march towards the heart of the abbey. Without looking back, Sister Fleurie continued, “You almost had us fooled, including the Abbess, bless her boundless heart. The taint of the fallen can be covered by no perfume, those who consort with the Betrayer shall be marked for treachery. I will be there to enact your sentence girl, with the Lord’s righteous fury alight on my face!” It was clear to Liadan that Sister Fleurie took a dark delight in her zealotry, despite their incompatibility with the Broken Man’s sermons of compassion. The walkway had largely run parallel to the various buildings of the abbey, now they turned past the rear dorter, where Liadan and the neophytes slept. They approached a side door connecting to the main dorter. “To think Abbess Segnat even thought to sully our brave knights with you and your fellow savages. The weakness of Gaídel blood has no place in such a holy order: I am quite pleased those painted savages from the west razed the pathetic shanty you called a village!”
As Sister Fleurie’s lip curled into a sneer, anger began to well up in Liadan. She felt a terrible power vibrating in her bones, yet was able to suppress it when she recognized Sister Fleurie’s expression: it was that of a child pulling the legs off of a spider, the face of a bully. “May the Broken Man usher the lost into salvation and may he ease the suffering of those in pain,” Liadan quoted piously. Sister Fleurie narrowed her eyes, her disappointment at being unable to provoke Liadan was palpable.
“At least the savages are doing the Broken Man’s work for us by killing one another. It is dreadfully tiring to attempt to civilize the uncivil,” Sister Fleurie said as she continued onward down the covered hallway. Liadan gently closed the door behind her as they entered the parlor which connected to the cloister of the abbey. Since it was evening, none of the neophytes were busy cleaning or sweeping the grounds. Sister Fleurie turned to her right and with a wicked smile playing at the sides of her mouth, she stopped in front of the doors to the Abbess’ chambers. Muffled voices spoke within, one clearly that of a man speaking in a soft lilting voice. Two knights stood at attention, guarding the doorway. Shortly after Sister Fleurie knocked on the ornate wooden door vigorously with her uninjured hand, the Abbess answered and bid them to enter. The knights in their chainmail moved in unison and opened the double doors, before returning smartly to attention. A large fire blazed within the chamber, near where the Abbess was seated in a cozy chair. Across from her was the most beautiful man Liadan had ever seen. His long hair was carefully coiffed and the colors of his silken garments perfectly complimented his vividly green eyes. He did not have the build of a warrior or that of a laborer: he luxuriated in his chair with the blasé manner unique to the aristocracy.
Sister Fleurie snatched hold of Liadan’s arm, dragged her into the room and opened her mouth to speak. However, before she could utter a syllable, the Abbess interrupted her, “That will be all Sister.” Fleurie’s wrinkled mouth shrunk into a questioning shape, but she did not speak. Bowing her head, she pinched her nails into Liadan’s upper arm maliciously, turned and left. The doors closed behind her.
“This is the child you spoke of, Abbess?” the well-dressed noble said while rising from his chair. As he stepped forward smiling warmly, he took Liadan’s hand and kissed it gently.
“Yes Sir Marin, our prayers have been answered.”
