Chapter 4
Sacred Creature
“Ain’t proper to keep that hair
down!” Nan cried. She crossed her arms and watched Olivia walking from her
chamber, the young lady’s long hair ending below her waist and flowing behind
her. “You’re no she-elf or barbaric Wilder heathen!”
“Nan, only the lords can’t see me
like this!” Olivia smiled as she looked over her shoulder. “Commoners won’t be
bothered, the servants and the like. They see this all the time. Besides! It’s
just for this morning, honest by the Silver Eye.”
“Ah . . . and what of Countess
Primis?” Nan lifted her chin. “If she lays eyes on you—”
“She is gathering herbs in the
gardens. Stop worrying, Nan!” Olivia smiled as she continued to walk away.
“My lady!”
Krea and Cedany followed their mistress with grins and playful
whispers against Nan. “We won’t be terribly long, Nanny dear!” Krea called over
her shoulder.
Nan opened her mouth to speak, but shut it. She glared at the
young ladies and walked back into the chamber; the door slammed behind her.
It was early morning and the servants, who had been up long before
the sun, raced here and there to prepare the household for the day. Women
bustled in from the wells with buckets filled to the brim that splashed onto
the floor with each step. Men carried in the day’s kill of deer, hare, and pig
for that night’s meal. The candlestick maker’s daughters rushed throughout the
castle and put out last night’s torches. Boys busied themselves with the
livestock, mucking out the stables, feeding the chickens and goats, and making
sure the horses were well. The distant smell of oily fires hovered about the
kitchen as the cook finished preparing breakfast. Bit by bit, the castle
rumbled with life as the household awoke.
Olivia led her women to her favorite place in the castle, a tower
which was built into the eastern wall. The women carried woven baskets filled
with cloth and sewing tools, and they clung to their wool cloaks and each other
as the morning’s chill seeped through the stone walls.
Krea giggled as they walked, arm-in-arm, and shook her head. “Nan
said you’re acting like a child. Just you wait, she’ll mock us and imitate how
we speak too. I hate when she does that! She’s too good at it!”
Olivia grinned. “Let her. She’s the one who misses all the
excitement!”
They squeezed past bowed men who carried baskets of fresh bread
made the night before in order to be served that morning. Cedany shook her head
and gave her lady a wary look. “What if we wander into a room we’re not allowed
to—?”
“Oh!” Krea shot her a glance. “No words like that. This is an
adventure!”
“Well,” Olivia whispered, “we cannot jeopardize Duke Aldret’s
hospitality.”
“Right.” Cedany nodded. “We just don’t want—”
“To have fun?” Krea smirked. “This is silly talk, both of you!
Silly, silly!”
Olivia sighed and breathed in the morning air; it was sharp and
fresh. She smiled. “Yes, I guess we will be fine. We will! Ah . . . this is
what I need . . . to laugh and be with my ladies!”
Cedany muttered under her breath, and glowered at the servants who
passed.
“Where did this happiness come from, my lady?” Krea asked and
poked Olivia’s arm. “By the One in Red, a cloud followed you everywhere just
yesterday.”
“Oh . . .” Olivia looked away and grinned as color seeped through
her complexion. “I spoke with a fair gentlemen—”
Krea gasped and giggled, though Cedany’s eyes narrowed.
“He was a messenger from the prince. . . . He soothed my worries.”
“My Lady,” Cedany whispered and leaned forward. “You are to be
wed. Shouldn’t toy with a—”
“Ah! I said he was the prince’s messenger!” Olivia shot her a cold
look.
“Then why talk with—”
“He was a knight; now enough of this, Cedany! I want to be at
peace!”
Cedany looked away, and Krea glanced between the two.
“Did he have a fine face?” Krea whispered.
“Krea!” Cedany snapped.
Olivia’s grin widened. “Yes.” She looked away. “Very fine,
indeed.”
Cedany frowned and Krea giggled with closed eyes and a wide smile.
Their voices hushed as four women passed by, their hands full of clothes and
blankets to be taken and washed. They bowed until Olivia’s shadow moved beyond
them, and pressed on.
They rounded a corner, and Olivia smiled as she lengthened her
strides. “Here we are!” Her vividly green eyes sparkled and she hurried to a
closed door at the top of the stairs and threw it open with one forceful heave.
Crisp morning air brushed across their faces as the sun lit the darkened
stairway. A smile spread across Olivia’s rosy lips, and she heard Krea and
Cedany gasp behind her. The tower gave way to a balcony which overlooked the
wild land beyond Crown Haven’s walls. The women stepped to its railing and took
in the breathtaking view.
The colors and freshness of the day caused Olivia to forget the
prince for a brief moment. She looked out and saw the Hilled Country rolling to
the east as one grassy hill rose up onto another. Mist linked the hills
together and lazily moved between them. To the west, the Flat Plains stretched
on like a green-and-gray cloth, and Olivia knew her home was beyond that
horizon.
A thick line of black ripped through the eastern skyline. Olivia’s
smile faltered as she stared at Wraith’s Hollow. The sun did not shine on the
distant forest, and she wondered what horrors lay within its shadows. They were
to travel through that Wizard-forsaken place. She would discover, all too soon,
what the forest hid from the light. She looked away with a shiver.
The three women drank in the fresh air until their lungs were full
and content. “The Wizard made another beautiful day,” Olivia whispered. Krea
and Cedany nodded as the women sat on wooden benches across from one another,
Olivia on one and Krea and Cedany sharing the other. Stitch-work and tools were
taken from the baskets and the women chatted as they sewed patterns of forests
and men-at-arms into the fabric. A morning breeze grabbed at their hair and
clothes with gentle fingers.
As Krea and Cedany talked of the cook’s foul mood the night
before, Olivia’s eyes turned across the land once again. What a beautiful
morning The Wizard painted. She liked it, very much. There was a long moment of
silence, and Olivia listened to the distant birds as they sang to the sun. She
knew it was doubtful The Wizard would speak to her, but she still sent her
thoughts his way. Well, the birds sing to you.
She watched the birds flutter among the fruit trees in the courtyard
below and sighed, her shoulders and chest loosening. She felt peaceful at the
moment, the eye of a storm. She thanked the One in Red for the gift, and
enjoyed it for the time being.
The Wizard was not with her. Perhaps he was across the Ardi’on Sea
to speak with the sons of the wind, or at the highest point along Blue Ridge to
mediate a dispute between the stars. He might have been among the unending
forests of Han Ci to teach them the heart of a Treeling, or walking upon the
most distant sands to ensure the sun did not singe the earth. He could have
been anywhere, and yet, he heard Olivia’s thoughts.
Falling in love would be nice,
but . . . Olivia’s lips became a tight line as she looked down at her
hands. She glanced at her ladies-in-waiting and watched their whispers and
laughs; she knew they would not understand. I don’t think affection will
take shape in either of us. If only you could be here. If only you’d tell me
what to do.
The Wizard stopped what he was
doing. He looked at Olivia.
The light breeze grew and struck the three women. Each held their
stitch-work in firm hands as Cedany and Krea’s conversation hushed. Cedany’s
eyes narrowed as the wind seized their hair and cloaks. It was not a natural
wind, so sudden and sharp. No, this wind had been sent.
Olivia looked straight into the abrupt gust as her stray hair
waved about her, deep in thought. If only The Wizard was a shadow, constant and
beside her. If only she knew what to do. If only she knew how to be a queen.
Krea’s brows rose and she looked at Olivia. “Are you speaking to
The Wizard?”
Olivia turned to her and opened her mouth to speak, yet froze. Her
green eyes widened as a cardinal soared through the air. Its vivid Red wings
carried the bird through the wind and it landed on the balcony. Cedany gasped
as Krea smiled in wide-eyed amazement. “A Sacred Creature,” Krea breathed and
reached forward, her fingers outstretched.
“No!” Cedany wrenched her hand away from the bird, her eyes wide
and her face pale.
Olivia stared at the bird and eyed its Red features. The bird’s
beady eyes looked up at her, its head cocked at an angle. It held her gaze and
stared deep into her; Olivia felt its eyes pierce to her heart and command
complete respect. She swallowed hard. She let out a quivered breath, slow and
controlled. Cedany looked between the Sacred Creature and her mistress. She
lifted her chin. “What did you say to him, my lady? What did you tell The
Wizard?”
Olivia did not look away from the cardinal as it stared at her,
stared at her soul. Her mouth was dry. Her heart beat against her. Her hand
tightly held the other. Forgive me. Indeed, you are here, Olivia thought
with a gulp. Forgive me. The bird blinked and chirped a song-like tune.
It leapt off the balcony and flew into the courtyard, out of sight.
Lady Olivia shivered and looked down, her brow furrowed, as she
shook her head. Forgive my doubt. . . .
The Wizard smiled and he looked to her with his silver eyes
flecked in a fiery glow. His blood Red robe trailed behind him and his hair,
long and whiter than white, lay about his shoulders. Both robe and hair
constantly moved as though brushed by a silent breeze. He saw her delicate
form, though she sat leagues away. Olivia looked to the horizon and knew he was
watching her, ever protective and vigilant. A fragile smile curved her lips.
“My lady?” Krea leaned forward,
brows drawn together and eyes narrowed.
Olivia looked to her companions and shook her head. She took up
her needle and began to stitch a pattern. “We are not out of his sight. Isn’t
he faithful?” She smiled at them, but they stared at their lady in silence.
“Faithful as the sun . . . Hmmm, as the sun . . .”
Cedany and Krea glanced at one another. “Yes, my lady.” Krea
nodded and she took up her needle.
Cedany eyed Olivia, but shook her head and leaned close to Krea.
“Don’t ever touch Sacred Creatures.”
“I wasn’t—”
“T’wer! I saw! Your hand would have fallen off or burst into
flames if you had!”
Krea’s eyes widened. “Stones on bones! Really?”
Cedany lifted her chin with a nod.
Olivia looked back to the sun’s rays and thought of The Wizard. He
watched them, though they could not see him. She looked for the
cardinal, but could not find the Sacred Creature. She sighed and ran red string
through her fingers. She eyed the scarlet cord and was grateful the One in Red
knew her distress and did not chide her for it.
As the sun lifted higher into the
pale blue, a smudge-faced child raced to the tower’s steps and told the three
women, with a bow and a small voice, that breakfast was ready. Krea braided
Olivia’s hair as Cedany gathered up their things.
Once the lady’s hair was appropriately in place, the trio walked
to the Great Hall. As they entered the large room, a wave of several
conversations flooded over the women. The shouts of servants, orders of
masters, the occasional bark of dogs, clangs of wooden and metal utensils, and
the crackle of the wall-long fireplace mingled together until it was one large,
rolled-up sound.
The baron, friends, the chamberlain, and the
commander-of-the-guard sat along the table’s benches as they ate their morning
meal. At the head of the table, in the only chair available, sat Duke Aldret.
On his left was the Seer and to the right was the baron, who was deep in
conversation with his lord. Young servants lined the walls, their hands stiff
at their sides and eyes directed to the seated men and women. Dogs
pitter-pattered between the people with constant eyes on the table for the food
that was to come.
Thick warmth spread throughout the room as the fire and body heat grew.
The wall-length fireplace’s fumes rose above the gathering and curled in the
rafters high overhead. It slowly found the opened windows and ventured outside,
but not without leaving the sharp smell of smoke behind. The servants, who had
slept in the Great Hall the night before, had rolled up their mats and stacked
them in the corners. On the floor lay bits of hay and tracked-in mud, small
puddles from the water girls’ spills, and dried food which had fallen from the
table the day before that the dogs had missed.
As Olivia moved across the room, several conversations fell to a
whisper, and many looked to their queen-to-be. Olivia’s cheeks flushed red and
she took a step back with a sudden lurch. Krea and Cedany glanced at their lady
and looked back at those seated. A few hushed words whipped through the room.
Olivia took in a deep breath, lifted her chin, and focused on her bench beside
the Seer. Her steps flowed from one to the other as she swallowed hard and
pressed on.
The watchful eyes burnt into her flesh and made her skin tingle. A
steward stood and pushed out the bench for her. Olivia sat, glanced at those
around her, and looked away. Countess Primis sat beside Quinn; her eyes bore
through Olivia and into the wall behind her. The young woman turned away from
her aunt, and a lump formed in her throat.
The Seer grinned at Olivia and stood. A perfect stillness fell
across those gathered and each looked up to the ceiling and held out their
hands. Olivia whispered a sigh of relief as everyone turned away from her. The
Seer closed his eyes and spread his arms wide. “You sang all that there is into
existence, Great Wizard. Therefore, sing into our lives to create the beauty
only you can see. Let it be so!”
Everyone cupped their hands together, with a thunderous clap, and
drew their hands close to their chests. The Seer sat down, and conversation
rolled in again. Duke Aldret nodded to Olivia in greeting. She returned the
welcome and placed her hands in her lap, her laced fingers white.
Nan, who sat beside her, eyed Olivia’s hair and grunted. “Glad to
see you’re right and proper again.” Olivia did not respond as she grabbed a
piece of bread from a wooden platter. She dipped it into a cup of goat’s milk
and took a bite. “Thank The Wizard Countess Primis didn’t see those wild locks
this morn!”
Olivia’s eyes narrowed as she glared at Nan. “Well, she didn’t. .
. .”
Nan grunted. “Just like a half-naked Wilder heathen! She’d be
rightly short with you for sitting out, too. That cold morning chill. ” She
shook her head.
Olivia opened her mouth, but shut it, looking away with a shake of
her head. Nan drank her own milk and continued, “She would be saying, ‘My
dearest girl! Do not destroy this nation by becoming an unsuitable queen!’ ”
Olivia grimaced at Nan’s perfect imitation of Countess Primis’s voice. “Would
give her a heart attack—”
“Enough, Nan!” Olivia hissed and shot her a hot look. “Aunt Primis
didn’t see, and she doesn’t know! Shall we keep it that way?”
Nan leaned back in her bench. “Meant nothing—”
“She’s always like that! Unreasonably concerned of others’
opinions of her.” Olivia’s eyes darkened as they flicked to her aunt. “I still
should have ridden that griffin!”
She thought back to the day a messenger had arrived at Earl
Quinn’s castle; he had traveled on a griffin. She had never seen such a beast
before and her excitement to ride such a grand animal, half lion and half
eagle, had overtaken her. But no, Countess Primis had forbidden it. “You could
slip and fall.” Olivia’s smile had faded at her aunt’s words. “You would die.
Besides, it is ghastly cold up there in the heavens; your young health would
render no resistance against the chilled air. If the flight wouldn’t kill you,
your weakened body would.”
Olivia shook her head and wished there was a griffin to soar among
the clouds with. She longed to see what it was like to be above the world. It
sounded so peaceful, so free.
“Could we not talk about my aunt.” She was not asking.
Nan stared at Olivia for a long moment, and her brow softened. The
two women looked away from one another and continued to eat. “Don’t you be too
hard on her,” Nan whispered. Olivia’s lips tightened to a pale line. “She
raised you all in all.”
“What do you know?” Olivia snapped. “You have served me no more
than a handful of months!” Nan gasped and stared at Olivia with a blank
expression. She opened her mouth to explain herself, but Olivia turned to the
Seer beside her.
“Honored Seer?” Olivia asked and forced a smile. Nan’s eyes
narrowed as the young lady turned her back on her. “How can one be chosen as a
Seer?”
The man grinned as he set down his wooden cup and turned her way.
Beside him, his Song Bearer peeked beyond his Red Master to the young beauty.
Their eyes met and the Seer’s apprentice ducked and turned away. “The heart.”
The Seer pointed at his chest with a nod. “’Tis where all begins with The
Wizard. He looks deep within one’s own soul, past the innards, the marrow and
hardened muscle, to the glass heart. The Wizard doesn’t see nation or bloodline
or past. A heart can be cracked; it can be marred by past harms, or harms by
the keeper’s own nature. However, The Wizard may see deeper, and still consider
such brokenness as beauty. He finds the best hearts—the broken ones mostly, for
broken ones can be molded more easily than perfect ones. You see?”
Olivia nodded and moved closer. “And what of the Crimson Rings,
honored Seer? How do they come about?”
“Well . . .” The Seer rolled up his long sleeves and revealed the
thick red loops wound around each wrist, discoloring his skin. Lines curled and
flowed with one another throughout the rings and patterned his flesh. “Long
ago, during the end of my apprenticeship as Song Bearer, I knelt and asked The
Wizard for them. Then, I felt someone else was in the room, something else. An
overpowering presence that no mortal or Wraith could stop. And that was when I
noticed the Crimson Rings. They just appeared. Out of nowhere.” He chuckled and
stroked one ring, then the other, and felt the texture of each curling line.
“Such are the ways of The Wizard. Um . . . might I ask, my lady, how is it you
do not know such common things?”
Olivia glanced away and cleared her throat. “My uncle had a Seer,
yet he was old. He had no strength for children, for such was my age when he
was alive. He passed to The Land of Eternal Day before I had grown in
curiosity.”
“I see. And do you know why Seers are denied shoes?” he asked. He
wiggled his bare toes as he asked this; they rested on a piece of gray rabbit
fur and were covered with callouses and dirt stains.
“Yes,” Olivia said in a flat voice. “To remind Seers, by the wet,
cold, and muddy ground, that a Seer is still mortal. It is to get rid of any
pride. Pain does that.” Olivia fought against a hard tone, but failed. “Was
there anyone?”
“Anyone what, my lady?”
“Anyone in the room with you. When you got your Crimson Rings.”
The Seer grinned and nodded his head. “That there was. The Wizard
stood over me.”
Olivia gasped and her mouth dropped open. “Then . . . then how is
it you’re alive? Who sees The Wizard and lives!”
“Some. Some do, my lady. But, yes, others have met doom after
looking into his eyes of fiery silver. And then there are those who are filled
with his Red. They, and myself, are who truly see him.”
Olivia’s brows knotted curiously as she leaned in to listen. The
Seer smiled and continued, “If someone is willing to become a slave to The
Wizard, and give him complete authority, Seer or not, they are given the
responsibility of his Red. It fills them, guides them, and speaks to them.”
Olivia stared in startled astonishment. “But, isn’t the Red his
source of magic?”
The Seer nodded. “Thus, whoever is filled with his Red are filled
with his magic. They carry The Wizard’s authority and supremacy, becoming more
powerful than Wraiths even. It is a high and dangerous walk indeed, for with
authority comes responsibility, and with powerful strength comes battles to wield
it.”
Olivia sat in thoughtful silence, her brows firmly knotted as she
tried to imagine a life filled with the Red Magic. “What was it like, honored
Seer?” Olivia moved closer still, her voice low and eyes wide. “What’s he
like?”
The Seer looked away and blinked several times. “It was . . .” He
shook his head thoughtfully. “I have never been more terrified in all my days.”
Olivia’s brow furrowed. “It was as though I was a baby bird and he . . . he is
a lion. One of power, and claws, and fangs. The king of the beasts! For a beast
he is. And yet . . .” A grin broke through his distant gaze. “Yet, I was filled
to the fullest measure. Filled as I have never been before.”
“Is that when you were filled with the Red?”
He nodded slowly. “I think so.”
Olivia swallowed hard and glanced away. She blinked thoughtfully
and shook her head. The Seer’s head tilted to one side as he watched her. “What
is this, my lady? I see your heart is troubled.”
Olivia peered at the elderly man and looked to the ground. “I—I
longed to see him, but his magic is too great for me. . . . How foolish I can
be sometimes.”
“Nay, dear lady.” Olivia glanced at the Seer as he shook his head.
“One should hunger for The Wizard, as a man hungers for honor. Shan’t be
difficult to find him; he is everywhere. In the forests, winds, animals, earth,
in the very air we breathe, my lady. Yes . . .” The Seer smiled. “Would be
foolish to try to hide from him. Good thing we are on his side, yes?”
“Agreed.” However, Olivia’s hands were clenched in her lap. She
looked around at the walls, the ceiling, and the dogs which sat by Duke Aldret
with wagging tails. Was he there, at that moment? She shook her head and
smoothed her hair. She sighed and took another bite of bread. Her eyes
closed, as though to force her fears of The Wizard and Prince Theron from her
mind. She was not successful.
– – –
A figure stood in a vacant room and
its eyes darted to and fro, first to the locked door, then to the opened
window. A white feather lay on the ground. Icy eyes watched from a shadowed
corner, and blue feet dug into a chair’s back. The wood paled with frost.
The figure turned to the door to leave. “Wait,” the snowy owl
whispered. The figure froze, but did not turn to face the bird. “The Master
says: Lady Olivia will be dealt with. In Wraith’s Hollow. Wraith’s Hollow . .
.”
The figure’s shoulders relaxed with a sigh.
The snowy owl’s head cocked at an angle and eyed the back of her
covert companion’s head.
“Very good,” the figure said with a nod. “I shall obey.” The snowy
owl said not a word. The figure faced her and the owl lifted her head. “How did
the master seem? Angry? Afraid? Excited?” The bird said nothing. She watched
her comrade grumble and turn away. “Wish you could say more than what we give you
to say. Stupid bird . . .”
The snowy owl’s eyes narrowed. She leapt forward, spread her
wings, and shot toward the figure. Without a sound, she extended her
frost-enlaced talons. The figure ducked with a gasp as she passed. The owl flew
through the window and was gone, a chill following behind her.
___________________________________
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“We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves.”
~ 2 Corinthians 4:7
Hearts like fragile clay jars.
Fragile like glass.
Hearts of glass.
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