First Night

 

First Night

The Abbey of The Widow, Widow's Way
Year 204, AC
(twenty-six years later)

Lightning forked across the midnight sky, and the rumble of thunder came right behind it.

A blood moon rode high in the heavens, partly obscured by an angry fleet of clouds, and the wind gusted with unexpected ferocity.

For one intimately tuned to the subtle, and sometimes not-so-subtle stirrings of the earth, all things were signs.

Portents.

What the signs foretold on this night were things too grim to give voice to, and so the tiny band traveled in stony silence.

There was a mission to carry out.

A duty to perform.

A total of nine traveled in the band. Eight afoot. All unarmed. Trudging, not walking, toward the Abbey in the distance, as if their tiny burden, and the secret they carried with them was an impossible weight, even for all of them collectively.

They had nothing whatsoever in common, these nine.

None were kin to any of the others, and in fact, no member of the group had so much as laid eyes on any other member, prior to their summons by the fabled Enchantress...the most widely known, and least-oft seen figure in the whole of the Basin.

Not a single individual among them had anything to gain by the venture as proposed....in fact, all knew that it would end in seven deaths.

And yet, none of them flinched from the duty they had been asked to perform.

A Doctor from WestKeep.

A Deacon from Ouestron.

A Stableman from Parthia.

A Litigator from Ascaaphol.

A Scribe from Maldev.

A Free-Woman from Trentare, and a BattleMaiden from Kell.

Four men. Four women, counting the Enchantress herself, and the newborn girl-child, cradled in the sturdy arms of the BattleMaiden.

The baby had not eaten for the better part of a week, and was fussy and miserable. While most newborns were delightfully plump and soft, this one had endured the rigors of a long journey, fraught with numerous perils, and lacking in even the most basic essentials.

Food.

Water.

Sleep.

As such, the greater bulk of her baby-fat had melted away, leaving a feeble, almost skeletal husk of a newborn.

She weighed less than half a stone, and yet....

So heavy was the burden on this group that each step closer they drew to the Abbey, the step following it was made at a slower pace, and was a shade smaller in its stride.

By the time they had come to within ten paces of the imposing gate, they appeared to be not so much moving forward as swaying with great reluctance in place.

And yet, with agonizing slowness, they gained ground, and before any of them truly wished it, they were before the gate itself.

The Enchantress knocked loudly against it with her glowing staff.

Twice.

Then thrice.

She raised it to knock again when the sounds of movement were detected on the other side of the Abbey wall, so faint that they were nearly lost on the wind.

"What business here?" A muffled voice asked as an iron grate slid aside a fraction of an inch, and the vaguest hint of a human eye glared suspiciously out at them.

"We bring an orphaned child to the Matron of the Abbey." The Enchantress replied.

"An orphaned child, ye say?" The grate slid more fully open. "Come back tomorrow, and the Matron will see you before the noon meal."

The grate began to close, but the Enchantress shoved her staff resolutely toward the small opening, preventing it from snapping shut entire. "I'm afraid there's no time for that. We must see the Matron, and we must see her now."

The old woman at the gate gazed more closely at the group before her. Thinking. Assessing.

There were sounds of jangling keys. A rusted and well-worn lock being undone, and then the screech of straining metal, and metal-on-stone, as the gate was opened to admit them.

"This goes against my better judgment." The wrinkled Gate Keeper told them.

"And mine." The Enchantress agreed. "But an evil storm brews, and a nightmare comes to life in the West....we must prepare....already, it may be too late."

They fell into step behind the old woman, who led them down the walk and toward the Abbey proper. Her hunched over posture and slow, shuffling gait contrasting sharply…strangely with the fury and frenzy of the storm around them.

As if knowing they would come, the Matron met them on the steps. She regarded the Enchantress before her with a mixture of suspicion and admiration, and then took in the sight of the other members of the group. "What witchery is this?" She asked, indicating the storm all around them.

"Not mine, I assure you, Matron." The Enchantress told her. "I have come begging your assistance."

"The Church does not have dealings with....your kind."

"This, I know too well....and it is fortunate then, that I do not ask you to deal with me direct, but only to take this child into custody....to watch over her and care for her....to let no one know that she is here, or how she came to be here, until the time is right to do so."

"And how will I know that such time has come?"

The Enchantress regarded her for a lingering moment. It was impossible to tell what thoughts stirred in her mind, or what secrets dwelt there. "You will know."

"Why here? Why this child?"

"Here, Matron, because no one will think to look, and this child, because....because she is the future....one third of the best chance we have to stem the rising tide of darkness that will soon engulf the whole of the Kingdom, and devour everything we hold dear in the world."

The Matron smiled at that. "Well, it is good, at least, that you do not over-burden this innocent in your arms."

"We ask of her, no more than she is capable of giving."

As if on cue, the BattleMaiden stepped forward, bearing the child with her, and held her up to the Matron, who took her gently into her arms, and relieved the assembled band of at least that one part of the burden they had borne together. "It shall be done." She pronounced solemnly. "She will be raised as a child of our god, and none will know of her presence here, nor how she came into my care."

The Enchantress bowed then, at the feet of the Abbess, and the rest of her band did likewise. "Thank you, My Lady Abbess.....you have saved us all. We owe you a debt that we can never repay."

"We shall see." She said in reply.

They did not linger, but instead, having delivered their precious cargo to its resting place, turned to leave, for there was more work yet that needed doing, and almost no time now, to be about it.

They departed on the same storm they strode in on...a storm that seemed to be worsening with each passing minute.

The journey from here was not a long one, for the Abbey had been built quite near to the great crevasse. The very spot at which the earth had opened itself up some two hundred years earlier, and devoured mass thousands of terrified refugees.

A small copse of trees had grown up on either side of the crevasse, and it was here, to the center, where a small glen had formed, that the group, now one member smaller, made their way.

They formed a circle, all holding hands, with the Enchantress in the center.

She met their eyes individually as she turned in a circle to survey them. "The sacrifice you are now called upon to make must be made of your own free will...no power in the heavens can coerce you, or this magic will fail...one last chance to back out then. If there is any man or woman among you who does not wish to be a part of what we do next...leave now, and never look upon this place again."

No one stirred.

"Very well....let us begin."

She began chanting in a slow, melodic voice that at first was lost on the winds of the storm. As her chant continued, however, her voice became louder, and more commanding, such that it swelled and rose to match the tempest crashing around them.

At the height of her chanting, she grasped her staff with both hands and plunged the base of it into the earth.

Thunder roared all around them then, and the wind howled like a wounded beast.

These sounds masked the cries of terror that welled up from the seven chosen, and then....

A resounding silence.

The Enchantress slumped to the ground, holding on to her staff for support.

Around her were seven pillars of stone, vaguely bearing the shape of the humans they had once been.

"Your sacrifice," she whispered to them. "Will not be forgotten."

She collected herself, gathering her strength to stand, and stumbled out of the glen, near the Crevasse of Sorrows.

It was done.

Whether it would be enough....not even she could say.

Now, it was all over but the waiting.