Aiduels sin, p.14
Aiduel's Sin, page 14
Allana spent a large proportion of those two weeks alone, trying to stave off boredom. She occupied a significant amount of time on seamstress activities, making clothes for herself within the confines of her small room. At other times, she either wandered into the town of Berun, or explored the castle and its grounds.
While she was exploring the town, staying within the areas frequented by the merchant middle classes, Allana was becoming more confident that she was no longer being followed. In the early days in Berun, she had often sensed that eyes were upon her, possibly connected to the dowager duchess’s threat to have her trailed. However, that feeling had now faded. Perhaps the older woman had by now dismissed the notion that Allana might be a spy?
On more than one occasion, Allana passed by the building which she understood housed the Berun postmaster. In the second week after Jarrett’s departure, it was increasingly piquing her interest. That was the place from where she would be able to send a letter, if she chose to.
Back within the castle, she was allowed free rein. Although she was presented as a seamstress, everyone knew that she was the duke’s mistress, and there were few places that she was prohibited from exploring. However, it also meant that the castle retainers were uncomfortable spending time with her. She had still not made any friends or acquaintances amongst them, and the women in particular seemed to keep their distance from her.
With so much free time on her own, Allana discovered that she relished standing on the highest ramparts of the castle, as she had once also enjoyed being on the battlements of Septholme Castle. She felt a sense of contentment and peace whenever she was peering out over the surrounding countryside, despite occasionally experiencing a touch of vertigo.
Berun Castle stood on a tall promontory of rock above a small lake, overlooking the town, and the highest battlements of the weathered fortress allowed expansive views in all directions. To the north, rolling hills morphed gradually into the distant mountain range of The Horns, while to the south-east, open fields covered the expanse before the wide waterway of the Canas River.
However, Allana found her eyes drawn most often to the west and south-west, looking out across the lands of Berun and Andar. Sometimes, when she stared in that direction, she could imagine that she could feel something pulsing, far away.
It’s just your imagination, Lana. Forget about it.
–
In Jarrett’s absence, Allana’s established routine therefore made the daytimes tolerable. However, the hours of darkness were awful.
At night, she continued to be stricken with the recurring dream and its lingering memories of horror. Panic attacks would then follow in the aftermath of waking, which would leave her anxious for hours afterwards. It sometimes helped to rouse herself and light a candle, but then she would be alone with her thoughts until dawn. And even though she tried to direct those thoughts in any direction but that of her imprisonment and torture, it was still a time for darker reflection.
One of the events which she reflected upon was the murder of Evelyn dei Laramin and her red-cloaked associates. In order to save herself, Allana had utilised her power to force two of the Guards to attack their own colleagues.
But of even more grim fascination was what she had inflicted upon dei Laramin, when she had poured an unseen darkness out of herself into the Dei Magnun woman. All of Allana’s blackest emotions and most bitter experiences had coalesced into an almost tangible form, and had then been unleashed as a torrent into her sadistic tormentor.
It had crippled the High Commander. Had forced her to her knees, with her hands clutching her head, and forlorn screams emerging from her mouth. All of the fear and horror which Allana had ever felt, whilst on the run or being tortured, had been condensed into a stream of agony which had washed around and through the mind of dei Laramin.
Following which, Allana had swept a knife across the woman’s throat, terminating the High Commander’s life. In some ways, that act had been a mercy. Allana had released the woman prematurely from her suffering, and from the terror residing within the blackness which had entered her.
This raised a number of questions which still nagged at Allana in the night-time hours, several months later; what would have happened had she not slashed dei Laramin’s throat? What would have come to pass if she had continued to let the horror course through the older woman, unchecked? How would it have ended?
Allana did not know, but she was aware now that the pouring of those dark emotions into dei Laramin had not cleansed them from her own body. In the days afterwards, she had realised that the darkness had returned to her, and she was certain that it was now once again lurking within her, ready to be accessed and used again in future. That thought made her feel both powerful and uneasy.
Allana also had much time to ponder on one of the last things which dei Laramin had said, in the minutes before her death…
‘…you’re one of them, aren’t you? One of the ones we’ve been looking for.’
Those words had been consistent with dei Laramin’s interrogation of Allana, back in the fortress. The High Commander had asked about dreams and powers, as if Aiduel’s Guards were searching for a number of people. The questions asked had seemed to mirror Allana’s own abilities, and the professed powers of Arion Sepian. Aiduel’s Guards were searching for the likes of Allana and Arion, and that could not be a good thing.
Arion Sepian again, Lana! she thought, on the night this occurred to her. Why must your thoughts always return to him?
–
After two tormented weeks had passed of sleeping on her own, she was once more awake in the middle of the night, and her thoughts were again lingering upon the young Sepian noble.
‘Arion,’ she whispered to herself, as she watched the flickering patterns of candlelight on the wall. She had been sweating and trembling earlier that night, racked with anxiety, but now she was feeling calmer. Her hand slid down onto her lower stomach, circling there, and she closed her eyes.
You’re whispering his name again, Lana. Not Jarrett’s. What’s wrong with you?
With every day that had passed since Jarrett had left, she was fully aware that she was devoting increasing amounts of time to thinking about Arion Sepian. She desperately missed Jarrett’s physical presence at night, but it was becoming so much more natural to picture Arion in her mind. And to wish that it was him, not Jarrett, that she was with.
In some ways, it frustrated her that she was still fixating upon the young Sepian lord. After such fleeting encounters, he had no right to retain such a possession on her attention. Yes, she and Arion were different to everyone else, and shared secret dreams and powers. And yes, he had helped her to escape from Septholme, and she had felt differently when close to him – more alive – than any other person had ever made her feel.
But he had abandoned her, at a time when he had promised to flee with her. And afterwards, he had not waited for her to contact him, as he had also promised, but had instead married another woman. Lady Kalyane of House Rednar! Another noble, of course. He had so brazenly betrayed his solemn pledges to Allana; promises which, at the time, had burrowed into her soul.
Why did he have to do that to you, Lana? You were intending to reunite with him, until he did that! Why did he have to betray you?
She knew that she should forget about him and embrace a future with Jarrett, but there were lingering doubts which undermined the strength of that conviction. Arion was just so beautiful in her memory, and so overflowing with breathtaking power. It was easy to recall his image now, to imagine being with him, and to feel her breath quicken and her temperature change for different reasons.
If she wanted to seek out a reason to forgive Arion’s actions, she could perhaps recognise that she had also broken her implied pledge that she would write to him. Maybe he would not have married if he had been certain that she was still alive? But it had happened so quickly, and he had given her little chance!
But could he still be thinking about you, Lana, despite his marriage? Wondering where you are and wishing he was with you? How would he react, even now, if he was sure that you’re still alive?
It was such a tantalising thought.
Now that she was no longer being followed, it would be possible to make contact with Arion by writing to him. She could still act to make him think about her again, and to regret his decision to marry. It was entirely her choice.
However, what would she say? And did she want to send such a letter, given that writing to him could open up connections to her past? She had already lost everything in her life, twice before. First, when fleeing Sen Aiduel. Then later, when she had fallen within a few short hours from being mistress of a duke to a tortured prisoner in a grim fortress. Dare she risk what she had gained as the lover of Jarrett Berun, by reforging her contact with Arion?
But he’s so perfectly handsome, Lana…
Arion’s image was at the forefront of her mind as her hand moved lower down her body. Within moments, her more logical deliberations had become an afterthought.
–
Allana’s thoughts about Arion lingered throughout the following day. Finally, after much fraught procrastination, she entered Jarrett’s chambers to take possession of a quill, inkpot and sheet of parchment. Upon returning to the privacy of her own room, she wrote out a simple message:
Dear Arion,
I am alive.
Allana
After writing the letter, she stared at it for a number of minutes. Three brief words, but what reaction would they elicit within him?
She thought about writing more. Writing about where she was, and who she was with. Hurting him in the same way that she had been hurt when she had found out about his marriage. But she could not bring herself to put the quill back on the paper. If he still cared about her, that single sentence would be enough to allow her to invade his thoughts; to make him think about her, as she still thought about him. And if she decided subsequently to do nothing further about it, there was no information in the letter which he could use to trace her.
She folded the parchment, concealing the message within. She then stared at the folded document for a number of minutes, agonising. Before she had even realised that she was doing it, she was writing out the addressee; Lord Arion Sepian, Septholme Castle, Septholme, Western Canasar. Minutes later, she had sealed it with wax.
Then it would be a simple matter of walking into the town, to the offices of the postmaster, and handing the sealed letter to him. That was all that she had to do. After which, she and Arion Sepian would be reconnected. Somewhat.
She stared at the document in her hand, sitting there for perhaps twenty minutes. Eventually, she moved to the large dresser in her room, and she slipped the folded parchment into the bottom of a drawer, beneath a variety of clothing.
She would decide at another time.
–
Later that day, with the letter still unsent, Allana returned to the castle ramparts to watch the sunset. She was on the highest section of the western wall and was again looking westwards.
It was a relatively mild evening, with a gentle breeze blowing against her back. There was a lovely peacefulness about being up here at this time, wrapped in her fur cloak, even though she could feel the temperature dropping with every passing minute. Only a pair of circling guards shared the quiet of these upper battlements with her.
She spent almost an hour in that spot. By the time that she finally left the battlements and headed back towards her own room, barely a quarter of the sun remained above the horizon.
She anticipated an evening on her own in the private but chilly sanctuary of her quarters, working on embroidery under candlelight. But when she opened the door and saw a bulky figure already inside the room, she recoiled. Dowager Duchess Sillene Berun was seated on Allana’s bed.
Stay calm, Lana.
‘Lana,’ said the older woman softly, with none of the usual venom in her voice. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’
‘My Lady,’ replied Allana, feeling cautious. The dowager had not entered Allana’s private room since her first hostile visit.
‘Come in and close the door.’
‘Yes, my Lady.’
Allana slipped into the room, shutting the door behind herself. A single lit candle stood on Allana’s dresser, illuminating the space in a murky half-light. Next to the candle was the parchment letter, with its waxed seal broken.
Sillene stood up and moved to within a couple of paces of Allana, looming over her. Several moments of silence passed, before the dowager spoke again. ‘He told me to leave you alone, do you know that?’
‘My Lady?’ Allana’s gaze flicked back to the letter.
‘The duke, my son. He knew that I’d want to come after you during his absence. To bully you and belittle you. And he ordered me to leave you alone.’
‘He did?’ Allana’s heart was beating fast in her chest. The other woman’s hefty form swallowed the space in the small chamber.
‘Yes. He’s a young fool, and he’ll soon learn to lose these notions, but I do believe that he’s in love with you. He was very urgent and insistent in his instructions that, in his absence, you’re to be protected.’
‘I don’t know what to say, my Lady. I have… deep feelings for the duke, too.’
‘Yes. And even though I haven’t liked you, your feelings for him have appeared to be sincere. Which is why, even though he’s to be married, I’ve not taken action to remove you sooner. That’s one reason. The other is that I thought you were harmless. And so, these last two weeks, I’ve been scrupulously obeying my son’s orders and have left you alone.’
‘Erm… thank you, my Lady.’
You’re in danger, Lana. Get ready to use your powers, if you need to.
‘Yes, he’s in love with you. Which is why your sudden departure will be such a blow to him.’
‘My depar-’
A meaty fist thudded into Allana’s head.
Allana saw only a fleeting glimpse of the woman’s clenched right hand as it smashed into her temple. The force of the impact sent Allana crashing backwards. Her back slammed against the wood of the closed door, before she tumbled sideways to the cold floor, her shoulder also connecting solidly with the hard stone surface.
Allana rolled dazedly onto her back, in time to see the much larger woman lumbering closer, and leaning down over her. Allana raised her arms defensively across her face as she saw another fist crashing down. The blow connected against the flesh of Allana’s upper arm, impacting in a way that would no doubt leave a nasty bruise.
‘Yes,’ said the older woman, breathing heavily as she planted a knee onto Allana’s waist, and then placed her wide palm onto Allana’s chest. ‘Your departure. For that letter, whore. Although your body won’t be travelling any further than a local pigsty. And those pigs will eat practically anything.’
‘Please.’ Allana’s plea was barely a murmur. Her head was still spinning from the force of the first blow, and she was completely pinned under the weight of the much larger woman.
‘You think I wouldn’t be told that you’d taken a quill and ink from the duke’s chambers?’
Sillene Berun raised her meaty fist again and thudded it past Allana’s shielding arms, striking Allana’s chest.
Allana felt the breath rush out of her body, and her next words were wheezed. ‘The letter? I didn’t… intend to send it.’
‘A letter to the Sepians, to the leader of their military. You’re a spy. I’d pretty much dismissed the possibility, but there you are. What is it? Code?’
‘No, it’s not-’
Another fist crashed down against Allana’s arms as she defended her face.
‘What is it then? You think you’re the first spy I’ve caught, girl? First enemy of my family I’ve dealt with personally?’
Another punch, this time into Allana’s stomach. A soft moan escaped from her throat as the blow impacted, and she was unable to find the breath to speak.
She then felt two sweaty hands wrapping around her neck, at the same time that she heard the dowager say, ‘First woman I’ve choked to death with my own hands?’
Fat fingers closed around Allana’s throat and started to clench, constricting her air passages. Allana reached up frantically with her own hands, trying desperately to release the grip from her neck, and digging her fingernails into the woman’s flesh.
But it was to no avail, and the chunky hands remained on her throat. The dowager was panting above her, making an unhealthy wheezing noise as she attempted to strangle Allana.
The remaining air was leaving Allana’s body, and her head felt like it would burst. She closed her eyes, seeing stars in her vision, even with her eyelids squeezed shut.
Lust. Power. Domination.
As she drifted closer to the breathless unconsciousness which would soon be followed by death, Allana’s powers triggered without conscious thought, and she reached for the darkness within her. The darkness which she had used just once before.
She imagined it coalescing into her limbs, into her hands. Gathering urgently within her fingers. Hungry. Rapacious. Black, infected, vengeful, sinful. Eager to do her bidding. To find a new target. To be unleashed.
As the grip on her neck drew ever tighter, Allana released this unseen darkness. She let it pour forth, through the connection between her fingertips and the flabby forearms of Dowager Duchess Sillene Berun. Torrents of dark filth, ripping into the flesh and the mind of the other woman. Streaming into her. Ruining her. Carrying the stench of death and fire.
Allana’s grip on the larger woman’s arms, maintaining this flow of horror, was now as fixed as was the dowager’s hold on Allana’s neck. As the lack of air began to overwhelm Allana, she was dimly aware of the horrified screaming which had started above her. Screaming which seemed to echo endlessly, in unparalleled anguish and despair, as Allana herself fell into unconsciousness…
