Chapter Eighteen
"During the mighty droughts caused by the
Sonaran duststorms, Arsinuae suffered.
Time passed slowly and uneventfully.
Travel was impossible, as the land was caked with ash and dust.
However, after a while it came to an end, and roads where passable again—
the group—now of three—began their quest for the third time; and for the last …"
—The Pasegean Scrolls
Vela, Alena and Jareth rested as the carriage took them over heavy terrain. Gazing out the window, Jareth felt glad that their victory in Alentio had allowed them freer passage throughout Arsinuae. At least we don’t have to walk everywhere anymore … Alena stirred in her seat, and Jareth smiled. Her normally immaculate hair was kinked and knotted from her constant squirming as she dozed. Vela noticed his smile and hid one of her own, wondering exactly what may await them in Chail.
Realising Vela was awake, Jareth spoke to her. "Vela …" he did not know what to say. She looked up expectantly, and he forced himself to continue. "… what do you think happened to them?"
She looked away again, murmuring that she did not know. Jareth narrowed his eyes. "Vela, do you know something? Something about Syrah and Lokath that you’re not telling me—us?!"
She shook her head and stared back into his eyes, and it became and unwilling nod. "Yes."
Jareth willed her to continue. After several moments, he impatiently asked: "Well?!"
"I … I don’t know. I found a note … but I never read it. It’s still here, tucked inside my breastplate." She brought it forth, and offered it to him timidly. Jareth snatched the parchment from her, and read the words hastily scribed there.
He looked up from the note, and looked at Vela angrily. "Why did you never read this?! Maybe if we’d known … we could concentrate on Lokath!"
A tear trailed down Vela’s cheek, but Jareth only glared at her. "I-I’m sorry, Jareth. I know I should have told you … but I never knew what it said!"
Never knew what it said …? Puzzled, Jareth switched sides of the carriage and shook Alena awake. She looked up at him groggily, but he said nothing and only pressed the note into her hand. Alena blinked as she read the words there; awakening her like nothing else ever could. "Jareth … where did you find this?"
"She found it," he pointed to Vela as if she was a criminal, "but never told us about it—never even read it!"
Alena stared at Vela’s tear-smeared face, then back at the letter. "But, Jareth … this couldn’t be from Syrah! She told me she’d never go back to her parents … they detested her so much they sold her to Banian! Plus, her name is spelt wrong!" She turned back to Vela. "Why couldn’t you read this, Vela?"
Choking back a sob, Vela looked at Alena with red eyes. "My father hated females … only wanted them to provide him with sons. I was a disappointment to him, as was my mother, so he had her murdered and made me dress as a boy. But, because I would never be as smart as my brothers he never taught me anything but swordplay. He even wrote my entrance form for the Capurnan guards … I cannot read, write … I cannot even hold a quill with my hand, as it is foreign to me. I am sorry to have displeased you, princess … and lord."
Jareth stared at her questioningly, as did Alena. "What do you mean, lord? Lord of where?"
Vela shook her head sadly. "That is not for me to tell you, Jareth. Only one of your own kin can tell you that. I can see it in your eyes, your skin, your actions. Lord of what, even I do not know. But you walk with the air of one … maybe even of a prince. But, I have said too much … and we are here."
The carriage had begun to slow down, as night was approaching and this was the first town they had seen for over three days. Jareth peeked through the heavy drapes of the carriage, and was surprised to see that the rain had stopped. "Where are we now?"
Alena was baffled, but Vela spoke confidently. "The village of Airann … Chail."
Chunia once more sat near her balcony, wondering at where the time had gone. Barely a seven-month beforehand she had sat in the same seat by this window, full of hope and aspirations. Now, where had she come to? Goonads was dead, Sonaro destroyed in a pitiful display of self-gratification; Quadra did nothing but lie in her bed and scream to the gods to save her soul; and she, Chunia, could feel nothing but foreshadowing doom. He was coming … she could feel his presence, had felt it for several days. She knew not when he would get to her, but would not resist. She had no power left to do so. Her life felt like a dismal heap of broken dreams. First, her brother had been abducted leaving her without one of the dearest things to her in the world. Then, at the tender age of sixteen her parents had been brutally murdered while she was only a few rooms away. Sometimes she dreamt that she could still hear their silent screams for help, those which came from their graves and haunted her evermore. That made her envy the brother she had lost … why did he not have to suffer as she did? Every day she thought of her death creeping closer, but did nothing to lengthen her time on earth or save her soul from that which had destroyed her aunt.
Chunia had nothing left. No one to turn to: they had all deserted her, either through death or insanity … sometimes through both. She laid her head back on the velvety regal seat, and fell into a fitful sleep.
"Jarrad, where are you?"
She could not find her brother; he had run to hide in the bushes while she sat and counted to highest number she knew. Then, she would try to find him—which was usually easy, as he was small and found it difficult to find good hiding places.
"Jarrad!"
Chunia was frightened now. She turned around and saw nothing but darkness. It beckoned to her, calling her inside. Then, she saw her brother stumbling towards the black-cloaked figure which stood in front of her.
The cloak parted slightly, allowing her to see a small patch of purple velvet … and scarred skin. "No!" she cried as the darkness covered her brother and the cloaked figure spotted her in the bushes. The bottom half of its face was visible now, and it’s lips smiled something that which looked more like a snarl than anything else. Smirking at her, the monster vanished behind a tree, and Chunia dropped to her knees, sobbing at the loss which she felt—the first of many …
Alena pulled her dark blue cloak around her, coloured in such a way that none would recognise her. Jareth wore nothing but his simple farm clothes which Alena could never convince him to part with. Vela was dressed in her Chailan armour, and many village-folk that passed her placed their hands to their right shoulder, an Arsinuaen sign of respect.
As the driver went about settling his horses, the three adventurers observed the village around them. Many children pointed at Vela’s shining armour, and received little slaps from their mother’s for their disrespect. She smiled back at them, as did Alena. Jareth, however, was preoccupied with the similarities between this village and his own hometown—if he could really call it that, now—which had been destroyed. Alena tapped him on the shoulder, and whispered to him: "Reminds you of home?" Jareth nodded, and Alena left him alone.
They walked towards what seemed to be the town inn, as it was the biggest building in the village, but it seemed to be emanating very little sound for that time in the afternoon. "That could be a good omen … or an extremely bad one." Alena giggled at Vela’s muttered comment, a sign that everything would soon be back to normal.
Jareth, who was several paces ahead of them, pushed the door open absently and heard a ringing sound above his head. Startled, Jareth jumped and a harried looking girl rushed in from the supposed backroom of the inn. "Ah … hello! Welcome to the Alderman tavern and inn!" She tried to speak cheerfully, but looked exhausted.
Alena walked forward and examined the inside of the establishment. It was relatively clean, compared to the squalor they had left behind in Alentio and the horrible Tusheban tents. Still, she longed to return to her home in Syriana, despite what horrible memories might linger there. The proprietor hurriedly introduced herself. "My name is Brianne Alderman …" She touched her shoulder at Vela’s armour, from habit more than respect, then extended her hand to the others.
Vela, noticing that Alena and Jareth seemed preoccupied with inspecting the main room, she nodded towards Brianne. "My name is Vela Pernath. Pleased to meet you."
Brianne displayed no surprise at her name … obviously she was not well-travelled of -versed in the nobility of Capurna. "The pleasure is mine, soldier. You do your country proud." She then turned her attention back to Jareth and Alena. "And you?"
Jareth glanced at her, murmuring his name. She smiled weakly at him, and Alena absent-mindedly walked towards Brianne, curtsied, then introduced herself. "Alena Pasege."
The innkeeper gasped. "Alena Pasege?! Sweet Elanora! That a woman such as you might be here …" then, remembering her own queen, shushed herself, "… it is not safe for you here!"
Jareth was wide-awake now. "Yes, so you must not tell anyone in this town who she is or you may be endangering your queen!"
"Yes … yes, of course. I shall not tell a soul, good sir. I mean, to have the queen of Chail would be an honour … this is a blessing!" Jareth, in an attempt to slow her gushing, asked for three rooms and produced Syrianan gold. "I am sorry, sir … that money is no longer legitimate inside Chailan borders."
He groaned. "I knew something like this was going to happen! How may I pay you if not with gold?"
Brianne thought for a moment, then her face lit up. "Of course! Might you inspect a poor traveller who was found on the road outside town a fortnight ago, princess? It is said that Elanora’s blessing itself runs through your veins!"
Alena nodded, hoping that whoever the person was would not be close to death. "What exactly is wrong with him, Miss Alderman?"
"He cannot remember anything … only murmurs a name over and over. He seems to be quite young, and I took pity on him when most of the village wished to leave him to die. Times are hard, and food is scarce. He appeared during the duststorms, and none but I and several fishermen dared venture outside. I entreated them to help me carry him inside and gave them the last of my gold … soon I shall have nothing. But I hope to save him." Her eyes were full of compassion, and Alena’s heart gladdened at the sight of this kind woman. There was a bed in the corner of the room which Brianne had rushed from earlier, and Alena walked towards it, Vela and Jareth close behind.
The man lying there was covered in scratches, but he seemed to be dozing. Alena touched his face and sensed something familiar about his skin. At her soft touch, he stirred, and mumbled one word:
"Syrah."
Copyright 2000 M. Lees
