Part 12 (1/2)
Chapter21.
Dark Procession -he smell of damp earth hung heavy in the night air. The young men sat quietly on the bank of the black lake, upon which the moon shone down, quivering like liquid gold.
Cedrik sat on a rock. Derek lay at his feet, his arm bent across his eyes. He felt as though he had been beaten and wondered if they had not taken to him with a stick while he was in his stupor.
”The night's quiet,” observed Cade, looking up at the stars dimmed by wisps of clouds.
”Not quiet enough,” complained Derek, feeling sorry for himself. He had vomited so violently he was convinced that his last hour had come. Moaning like a man who is dying, he thumped his booted foot against the rock.
”Will you stop doing that?” said Cedrik, pus.h.i.+ng his boot away. ”Why must you always have your feet up all the time?”
Derek didn't answer but rubbed his face miserably. After a moment he said, ”When strength returns to my limbs, I'm going to thrash you, Cade.”
Cade laughed heartily. ”Ah, they all say that the first time.”
Standing quite apart from the others, Deacon stood with his shoulder leaning against one of the rocks, looking out across the still, black surface of the lake, the book clutched to his chest. Certain elusive scents drifting in the air forced upon him sentimental yearnings for the happiness of home, but he had lost the single ent.i.ty that had any semblance of such a place. Along with her, his home was lost and buried.
The thought of it hurt so terribly he could scarcely bear the ache that spread from his throat down and around his heart. Reflections of Mariwen also came undesired upon him. He thought with bitterness how devoted he had been, how willing he was to support and yield to her, desiring that she should belong to him. Now he felt only broken feelings, fragmented too utterly to give their meaning to him. With effort he banished all thoughts of her. He would not go back to her.
”It's a pity some of the girls didn't accompany us,” Derek said, sobering a little in the night air.
”You're ill,” Cedrik reminded him.
”I don't care.”
”You would've cared when you made them cry, heaving up as you were.”
Derek gave a short grunt of a laugh, then frowned, his stomach rolling with remembrance.
”I don't know what you lads would've done with them if they had come with us,” said Cade. He gestured at Derek. ”This one can't keep his drink down, and you, Cedrik, turn away perfectly good women who fairly throw themselves at you.” Cade looked disgusted. ”And this one here! He's got eyes for nothing but that accursed book!” Deacon glanced in his direction, but made no remark. ”You're a disgrace, all three of you.”
”And which happy lady is yours to lay claim to?” asked Cedrik. ”You seemed to have several.”
”Ah, no. The G.o.ds save me from it. One is more than enough trouble for what she's worth.” Cade puffed out his cheeks, then said: ”The lucky la.s.s wasn't there tonight, unfortunately. I'll have to borrow this again.” He held out the front of Cedrik's s.h.i.+rt from his chest.
”You may keep it, if you like.”
”Just as well; I spilt gravy on it.”
Cedrik smiled, then his face became serious. ”What's that place over there?” He nodded across the water at the foreboding structure obscured by cold mists and sickly trees. He had been looking at it for sometime and wondered what it was.
”I won't take you over there,” said Cade, rather scornful.
”It looks like a temple of sorts,” said Cedrik.
”It's dedicated to Demise.”
”The G.o.ddess of death?”
”That's the one.”
”It's a dark form of wors.h.i.+p.”
”It's morbid,” said Cade. ”A breath away from necromancy, if you ask me.”
At the mention of the dark art Cedrik glanced over to Deacon, aware of his cousin's intense dislike, but Deacon looked out over the water without any sign of having heard. Nearly overcome by the emotion roused in him by the memory of his mother, Deacon turned and made his way back toward the house, leaving the others to stare after him. A morbid silence fell over them. Cedrik bit his lower lip, wondering if he shouldn't have a word with Deacon, just the two of them alone.
The air in the woods was half mist, half twilight. Nothing stirred. If there was any life here it was hushed and hidden. All the trees stood well s.p.a.ced from one another and were stately despite their mournful appearance. Within the gloom, Deacon knew a quiet grove in which he spent long hours of solitude, finding these woods to be the only place sufficiently quiet for him to escape and become entirely absorbed in his study, without fear of interruption.
Clapping shut the book, Deacon sat with fevered frustration. He had tried to divine for Luseph several times and had failed. Each time he set his mind to it, the necessary concentration would elude him. Thinking of his father, he found his mind became unclear and hot with temper. A vague memory, surcharged with horror and dread, forced itself upon him. His very soul revolted against the remembered contact of his hands. The violent images seared into his consciousness with a permanent scar. He hated his father pa.s.sionately.
The night was quickly drawing in. Deacon was heading toward the cottage, when he heard Cade's voice call, ”Where have you been!” He turned and saw that they were down by the water. Hesitating a moment, not certain if he wanted company, he made his way toward them. ”Where's your book?” was the first thing Cade asked, noticing that he did not carry it with him.
”I have no further use for it,” said Deacon simply, coming to stand next to Cedrik, who aimlessly tossed little rocks out into the lake.
”Do you think it wise to disturb the water?” asked Deacon, after a moment.
”Why, there's nothing in there, is there?” Derek said, turning to Cade as if to seek a.s.surance.
Cade shrugged and tossed a stone in anyway.
”You've been gone for hours,” said Cedrik as he clutched Deacon's shoulder and gave an affectionate squeeze.
”I know,” said Deacon, brus.h.i.+ng a hand over his brow wearily, his face down-bent.
”How much longer do you suppose to stay here?”
”I don't know how long I'll remain, but you and Derek are free to leave whenever you wish it.”
”We've got nothing impending to return to,” said Cedrik. ”I think Derek is enjoying himself, in any case.”
Both looked affectionately over at the younger one as he leaned over the water as far as he could without falling in, trying to see through the darkness to the bottom. ”What are you doing down here from the house?” asked Deacon.
”Hiding from the Crone,” answered Cade without explanation.
”How about we go to the tavern for just a little while?” suggested Derek, bored.
”How about I hold your head underwater for just a little while?” asked Cedrik.
As the evening progressed they lapsed into a dejected silence. Derek lounged against a rock, persistently tossing little stones at his brother, opposite. ”One more ...” threatened Cedrik. Derek smirked, but tossed aside all the stones. Letting out a discontented sigh, he lay his back against the cold earth and stared up at the stars. The evening mist from the lake cast mournful reflections into the minds of the young men. One in particular was deeply affected. He stood with his shoulder against the boulder, staring out across the ma.s.s of water as if forgetful of his companions. Silent in his deep absorption. Then over by the woods something caused Deacon to glance up, and at once riveted his attention. So still as he was, his slight start caused the others to look around also, and, catching their breaths, see what he saw.
Keeping to the shadows by the edge of the woods, a dark procession of priestesses pa.s.sed down toward the water, their majestic gowns trailing behind them. Each wore a fine black veil drawn down over her face, and each held a small bowl with a flame reverently between both hands. Haunting in their dark similitude, there was an element in their beauty that gave a sense of dread. As they pa.s.sed, one of them turned, without moving more than her fine neck, in the direction of the awe-inspired observers. Among her dark kind it was evident she was not one of them. Though she looked as they looked and moved as they moved, she was separate from them, isolated by her own singleness, a quality of being on her own, of not belonging to any living soul.
All four men looked at her, but it was one man, and only one, at whom she looked. And though outwardly he remained the perfect exemplar of stillness, Deacon could feel his breath quiver within his chest with every beat of his heart. He alone was the figure to draw her attention. He could not clearly see her features lost to shadow, but he saw, looking from beneath the veil, her beautiful penetrative eyes turned toward him. Unconscious of anything outside of each other, they gazed on one another with an intensity that excluded all else.