Book One: Chapter Three

 A young man in a dark gray tunic with greasy black hair and a large nose led a white horse down a dirt path. He looked down the trail with small dark eyes, past the wheat field to the large manor house. He finally reached the outside of the home in front of two large doors. He went to the left side where there was a smaller door inset into the larger one. He knocked on the outside of the thick wood several times with a spiral bronze door knocker.

The door opened and a short plain looking man in a long tunic with dark brown hair peered from the door with dark eyes.

"Hello, who art thou and what business dost thou have at Meikell Manor?" he said.

"I am Deikuneist, son of Etae the Tailor. I come from Kirsgar with a mended dress for the daughter of the Viscount."

"I will announce thee. Wait here."

The gangly young man nodded, while the other went back through the door and closed it.

After a minute the door opened again.

"Come inside."

He did as instructed into a large room. It had high ceilings about twenty feet up, braced with pillars and beams. There was a fire at the far end of the hall and in the center a long table with many people eating meat and vegetables on flat stale bread. The young man was led to an older woman at the end of the table. 

She wore a white wimple with a veil covering, the back and sides, affixed around her head with a gold colored headband.

A maroon dress covered her from neck to floor, with azure sleaves up to her wrists tied on her arms.

"Viscountess Farnei, this is Deikuneist from Kirsgar, the son of Etae the tailor."

"Ah yes, thank you Powel,” she said. 

"My lady," he said, bowing deeply as he came close. She nodded.

"Open the case up for me to see young man," she asked.

Powel grabbed a chair and the young man set it there and opened it, revealing a white dress.

"Take it out," she said.

He held it up, the fabric flowing down from the garment. It was very detailed work with the bodice section having a beautiful white on white flower and ivy patterned stitching. There were thin rows of eyelet patterns across the skirt section. Lady Farnei looked at it and then stood from her seat, getting closer, but holding her wet fingers back as she examined it. The young man turned it around so she could see the back.

"It looks excellent. Tell thy father for me."

"Yes milady."

"Thou mayest wait outside as I finish supper, then I shall get my daughter to try it on, to make sure it still fits, then I shall get the remaining payment."

"Yes of course," he said with a bow and going outside through the door. Powel closed it behind him.

Deikuneist pat his horse affectionately and took a skin of water from the side. He was waiting nearly half an hour when the one who had announced him, Powel came outside with a bag of coins.

“Here you go sir,” he emptied the bag of several silver coins into the young man’s hands.

“Thank you.”

“The Viscountess thanks you for a job well done. Goodbye,” he nodded and went back into the house.

Deikuneist walked back down the path from whence he came, when he saw a figure on a balcony in the corner room of the manor. It was a fair maiden with dark black hair and bright blue eyes. He paused there, watching her go back inside. Then he continued to walk with his horse, looking back over his shoulder.

The raven haired young woman closed the door to the balcony behind her as she went inside.

"Spending every waking moment in our room is so boring," she said.

Her identical sister sat on the edge of the bed.

The sisters hair was uncovered and braided each along the crown of their heads and then a braided pony tail in back.

They both wore simple long scarlet dresses, nearly identical, both with patterns at the hemline and at the ends of the long sleeves. A gold colored cord was tied about their waists.

The room had an ornate canopy bed with the head and footboards carved with cherubs hugging.  There was a tall armoire next to their window, and a large chest at the foot of the bed. She bowed her head and turned to her sister.

"I'd like to pick a flower again, feel the grass between my toes."

"Oh me too Allora. As long as we don't make any more mistakes, mother won't keep us in our room."

"It's seemed to happen quite often as of late."

"Yes, mother gets mad at everything we do, but at least-."

Just then there was the sound of something hitting the wooden window covering of their room.

"What was that?"

There was another sound a few seconds later.

"Sounds like a knocking," Allora said.

            Adalla opened the door to the balcony and a small rock grazed the side of her head.

            “Ow!” she cried.

            “Oh, I’m sorry. I meant not to hit thee.  I did not know if thou heard the rocks,” she heard from below.  Adalla looked down and saw a young gangly man, Deikuneist, his horse behind him tied to the nearest tree. He looked back towards the front of the manor, as if he was worried someone would notice him.

            “Uh, who art thou?” she said, as she held her hand to her forehead.

            “Deiky,” he replied softly, moving just under the balcony. He spoke softly.

"Huh?" she said.

"Deikuneist, but people call me Deiky. I.. I had to see you again,” he stammered.

            “Me?”

            “I delivered your dress to your mother just now,” he said. "I was about to leave, but I saw thee on this balcony. T-thy hair looked so beautiful. .. and I couldn’t.. I've been thinking often of the day I first saw thee and I haven’t been able to sleep,” he stammered, fumbling for words.  “Might I climb up to see thee?” he asked, grabbing a hold of a trellis that guided long vines up the stone wall and past the twins' small balcony.

            “I do not know thee,” she said as he began his assent.

            “My father is the cloth merchant, the one who fixed thy dress,” he tried to explain, pulling himself farther up.

            “Oh, I don’t think—”

“I had to see thee again. Thy skin and hair so silky smooth. And thy bright eyes are beautiful. And thy smile is more winsome than any other girl,

"Who's that?" her sister asked from inside.

“It’s the son of the cloth merchant. He says there are no other smile as winsome as mine."

            “Who art thou talking to?” he asked with a frown, slowing as he neared the window.  “Was I a fool for coming?” he asked. “Are you married?” he asked.

            Allora popped forth into view and the sight of the two women there shocked him.

            “Whaaa?” he exclaimed, and fell backwards into the bushes below.

            Adalla winced and Allora looked down with concern.

            “Art thou alright?” she asked.

            “Yeah.. ow,” Deikeid replied, righting himself. He picked a few leaves from his hair. 

            “So what dost thou think about there not being another smile as winsome as mine?” Adalla asked.

            “Thy sister is beautiful as thee,” he replied.  “But how? Thou face has the same beauty,” he replied.

            “She is the one thee did see in Kirsgar,” Adalla said with a nod to her sister.  Allora gave a wan smile.

            “Yes Allora. Such a beauteous name and a smile so sweet,” he replied. “One such as thee I could wed,” he replied.

            “Oh, I’m already betrothed,” she said.            “It is as I feared then,” he said, looking down. "It was foolish of me not to recognize the dress as being for a wedding."

            “Who art thou?” she asked.

            “The cloth merchant is my father.  I saw you days ago at our shop.”

            She looked up, trying to remember.

            “Deikuneist,” he said.

            “Deiky? Yes I remember,” she said with a smile.

            He looked up and smiled. "Thy smile makes me giddy."

            “But shhh our parents might hear,” Allora explained.

"Yes I understand, I'l come back at more opportune time." He rushed off to his horse. 

"No thou should not come back," Adalla said, but he was too far off to hear. Deikuneist walked away with his horse. They watched him leave past the line of trees.

            “A boy came all the way from the city to see thee in the middle of the day?” Adalla said with a smile as they left the balcony and went back to the bed. They lay next to each other.

“He was very kind, but I-”

“Yeah,” her sister Adalla replied.

Allora turned away towards the wall. There was a silence between them for a minute.

“Allora?” her sister said.

Allora was silent.

“Allora, dost thou want to get married?”

Allora rolled over to face her sister.

“Yes,” she said softly. “I mean I guess so. What else is there to do?"

“Nothing I guess,” Adalla replied. Allora turned away again.

            The twins lay there quietly. It was a cold autumn day and they hugged each other for warmth.

 

There was a click and older woman with graying hair walked in. She wore a long brown dress from neck to hemline and a gray wimple over her head, revealing only her aged round face with peach skin, small brown eyes, a wide nose and thin lips. She picked up a flat wooden platter from the floor, moist empty bowls, fabric napkins, crumbs and seeds remained.

"Willst ye be joining us downstairs for dinner?"

"Yes Denda, Mother says we can," Adalla said.

"Wonderful. I suppose ye are excited to get out of this room then."

"Although we just ate, we are already eager for dinner." 

"What is that on thy forehead?"

"Hmm?"

"There is a bump on thy head."

"Oh yes, umm… I just knocked it on the door to the balcony," she lied.

"Oh my it's getting quite big. When didst thou hit it?"

"Oh, uh just after we ate."

"I shall make a poultice from datlesht root then."

"It's not that bad is it?"

"It's getting pretty big," Allora said.

"I'll gather the roots," Denda said, leaving quickly with the platter. 

"I don't want mother to see though," Adalla complained. 

"We could wear a wimple to hide it I guess. "

Adalla nodded.

She goes out to gather the herb that she knows will reduce the swelling. While out Denda sees an old man walking on the path. He says hello introduces himself as a storyteller, and she invites him to the manor, but says not to tell it was her as she's only a servant (the girls love stories). He was going to keep going, but decides to rest due to her suggestion.

 

            The twins  finished supper that evening without her mother noticing the poultice around her head. As everyone was finishing the Viscountess stood. 

"Everyone gather around the fire," she said loudly. "We have the luck of a Storyteller this evening."

The younger folk began smiling and speaking together in hushed tones.  

"Oh wonderful," Allora said to her sister.

The Viscountess, sat in the middle of a wooden bench near the hearth. On one side of the Viscountess sat her daughters and on the other side of her was a girl wearing a long green dress and a white veil over the back of her braided hair. It was the twins' cousin Sartei. Her thin lips were smiling and her small blue eyes were turned towards an old man with dirty brown clothes. He was sitting opposite the fire on a stool.

            “How about the tale of… the Disobedient Daughter?” the storyteller asked of the crowd in charismatic voice.

            “Ah yes,” the Viscountess said with a grin. The others agreed as well.

"Good then, find a seat and I'll begin."

After a few minutes everyone had found a seat or comfortable position and he started the story...

Not so long ago, during the war and in this very country, a beautiful young girl lived in a small castle with her mother and father, the lord of the land.  She was pale and had none of the suggestive nature that a strong diet of the vegetable gives.  Unfortunately she was an only child, as her birth was a miracle blessed by Fareik.  Her parents loved her very much, but they did not let her go outside of their castle. 

It was because when she was born the priest that held her up into the first light of morning to bless her had a vision.  It was so strong that he nearly dropped her on the stone ground of the temple.  He saw a fully grown woman, but captured by a Kabrate, and brought to Akain’ahn in a forest to be tortured.  The parents saw this as a sign that they should be vigilant and not let their daughter out of their castle for any but the gravest of reasons. They warned their daughter not to leave for fear of the evils of the outside world. They dare not tell her what wouldst befall her for fear it wouldst terrify her every waking moment.

One day while she was on her balcony gazing out at the beautiful clouds and listening to the chirping birds that she was oft entertained, she noticed a solitary figure riding through the forest outside towards the castle.

It was a handsome youth in armor astride a beautiful horse.  The knight’s eyes seemed to glimmer and she felt her heartbeat quicken as he glanced up to the balcony where she stood, her hands pressed against the railing. Upon seeing her he approached the balcony, taking slow steps with his horse.

“Good morning fair maiden,” he said with a low bow on his steed. “Might I ask whose castle is this?” he said in a very strong and deep voice.

“It is the castle of my father the Lord of this land," she said.

“Ah fair maiden thy voice is as sweet and beautiful as thou art,” he said with a smile. “Fair one, I have traveled far, might I rest a while until I continue?”

“Oh yes I— er… my family would not refuse to take in someone with such... vigor,” she said with a red face.

“Might thou come down from thy room that thou couldst parlay with me? I fear I am unable to enter,” he said.

“But why?,” she asked.

“It is part of the oath I gave to Fareik,” he said. “I did pledge to not rest inside a comfortable abode until I had traveled back from battle to avenge my slain sisters from the Tohcusans,” he said, clanging his gauntlet to his chain tunic.

“Oh, but my parents have forebade me to leave the castle,” she said with lament.

“It is only to speak with me, beauteous maiden, not to travel far from thy castle. Surely that is allowed?” he asked.

The maiden was taken with the knight's apparent innocent words.  She looked upon his handsome flesh and believed him fully.  

“I will come to thee,” she said.

“Thank thee,” he smiled.

So it was that she put herself in a hooded cloak and snuck down from her room out of the back door to the youth’s side.

“Please mount the horse with me,” he said.

“But I thought—,” she said.

“I have a camp not far from here,” he said. “Be not afraid it is less than a league from this very spot.”

She grabbed his outstretched hand and he pulled her up behind him.  She grasped his armored loins with her hands as they rode off into the forest. 

Her loving father did come for her as this did happen.  He had entered her room and stood looking out from her balcony as he saw his daughter ride away with a stranger.

“Stop!” he shouted, but by then they were too far away and the maiden could not hear him.  Her father immediately went to the stable to ride out and follow his daughter.

The maiden was happy on the back of the knight's horse , but when they had entered the forest, the darkness of the shadowy trees did obscure the maidenes vision so she could not see. She became very afraid.

“Oh sir, it is so dark where have you taken me?” she asked.

“I take thee to my camp,” she heard from a deeper voice that sounded grim and feral.

“What has happened to your voice?” she said.

“My throat is dry from much travel,” he said with a cough, “Nothing more.” He coughed again.  “Wait duck!” he said quickly.

Then with a sudden jolt the maiden was unmounted, falling to the grass with a hard thud.  A low hanging branch had knocked her off the horse.

The maiden rolled over and sat up.  She looked forward to see a Kabrate in a clearing in from of her.  She saw no sign of the knight.

The Kabrate turned his head as she looked in horror. The Kabrate was half-man half-horse.  His only clothing was a leather strap strung with human skulls across his chest and a loincloth. A bow hung on his other shoulder and a quiver around his waist.

“What are thee?” she said with fear.

The Kabrate looked troubled.  He ran deeper into the forest, away from view.  She shivered and peered around into the darkness around her.

 

The storyteller paused.

“Now anyone that wishes to hear more, surely you can open your purse?” he asked.

One man chuckled to himself.

“Alright,” the Viscountess smiled. She took her purse that hung from her belt and removed a small coin. She nodded to a few of the men, who removed a copper coin or two from their purses and dropped them in the Storyteller's weathered hand. 

“Thank ye all,” he said with a small bow and placed the coins within his shoulder bag. “I’ll continue...”

 

The maiden was in the dark forest alone, and the Kabrate had just disappeared past the clearing. There was no sign of the armored youth or his horse.

“Where are thee my knight?” the maiden asked of the forest.

Then there was shouting in a dark language. She was very frightened. She turned and began rushing back towards the castle.

“Wait!” she heard the knight’s say from behind her.

She turned to see him approach from the clearing.

“What? What happened?” she asked.

“Thou didst fall from the horse,” he said.  "Sorry it was difficult to find thee. Art thou unhurt?”

“No there was… a terrible monster in the clearing behind thee,” she pointed.

“Fear not for it,” he said. “I saw it too, so I snuck behind it and did defeat it.” He said.

“Verily?” she said dubiously.

“Yes,” he answered with a smile. "Now come with me to my camp," he said.  He rode the horse forward as she followed.

He turned the horse around near the center of a clearing.  There were faintly burning embers surrounded by rocks. And nearby a large flat table waist high, made of black stone as dark as night and carved in runes and obscure pictures.  The vegetation around it seemed thick and wild.

“Sit down on the table,” the knight said.

She looked for a moment at the surface and then sat on it. The stone felt cold on her hands.

The knight’s horse knelt down and the knight leaned forward towards the maiden.  He moved to kiss her and she did not retreat. She felt warm and happy as she kissed him, she closed her eyes, savoring the feel of his warm lips against hers. But it was a selfish desire in her heart for pleasure. When she opened her eyes again she gasped.  The knight had turned into the Kabrate.  He gave an evil smile.

“Oh no!” she screamed.

“Thy flesh shall be a sacrifice to Akain’ahn,” he said in his deep dark voice.

He grabbed her fearcely with monstrous strength and turned her prone, grinding her face against the unyielding stone.  She looked onto the surface of the table and saw more clearly the fell tableau carved into it.  There was a woman laying on the table and an Ekei kabrate was over her, violating her body.  The black table was an altar to Akain’ahn.

She screamed again as the Kabrate pulled up her dress and spread her legs.

The maiden’ father heard the screams.  He was searching the forest for his daughter but hadn’t found her yet.  He followed the sounds of the screams to the clearing.

“Stop, unholy monster!” the maiden heard. The Kabrate got up from the altar and turned towards the lord. 

“Fool,” the Kabrate said.  “Akain’ahn will give me the power to slay thee,” he sneered.

“Nay it is by the light of Fareik that thee shall die by my hand,” he barked, holding up his longsword.

Her father rode hard towards the Kabrate, and the monster reached to its quiver and bow to ready them.  The Kabrate was too slow, and the lord with one stroke cut down the inhuman being, lopping off its head.

Her father dismounted from his horse and went to his daughter’s side.

“Oh father thank you for saving me,” she cried.

She hugged him and he gave a wan smile.

“Thou art bleeding,” he said, looking at the maiden’s dress.

“The monster, he.. he” she stuttered.

“Oh daughter, that you would not leave the castle,” he said with regret.

“I’m sorry father,” she sobbed.

“Thou…”

She looked up at him with tears streaming down her face.

“Thou has lost thy purity this day,” he said fighting back emotion. “And with it thy mother I. For disobeying us thou art disowned.”

“What? No!” she cried.

“Thou hast impured thyself on this mongrel being. Thou art of our house no longer,” he said.

She cried as her father left her in the clearing.  She collapsed on the ground and lay there bleeding until she died.

So ends the tale of the Lustful maiden and her curse. She still haunts the woods to the North.

The men and women clapped and the  storyteller bowed. 

Preface     B1.C01     B1.C02     B1.C03     B1.C04     B1.C05     B1.C06     B1.C07     B1.C08     B1.C09