The Death of the Lake (8)

A dark fantasy

Chapter 8: The song of life

The deceased ruler laid in his death bed with the light of the red dawn glaring across his face. His last will was clear - since he had no lawful heirs, the Lord wished to leave his power to the one closest to him in the ruler’s last days. 

Merush stood by the death bed. Who would have though he shall be granted with such power? Certainly not Merush himself! All he ever did was serve his Lord as best as he could. 

Merush gently touched the old Snakeling Lord’s silvery-white hair. He had been more than a Lord, he was Merush’s teacher and a friend. He never thought the old Lord held him in such high esteem; all Merush wanted was to serve.

He took off the silver crown from the old man’s head and placed it on a red cushion. The Elders had come to do the funeral rituals. 

Merush stepped aside, the group of Snakelings stood around the bed, chanting and purifying the chamber with white Snakegrass smoke. 

Soon it will be Merush’s and Mari’s chamber. The Snakelings approved their old Lord’s choice of a successor, under one condition - the Autumnian woman shall not have power over Snakelings. Mari didn’t mind, she only wanted to be Merush’s wife, nothing else. 

After the ritual, Merush went out the wooden castle to his own house, where his beloved laid waiting for him.  The morning rose clear after the night’s snowstorm. The Snakeling town was still asleep when Merush had been summoned to his dying Lord. 

The freshly made Snakeling Lord stopped at a strange sight. A crowd of his people were coming from the lake. One of them carried something covered in snow.

“Sir, we found this by the lake,”

Merush saw a frozen black-haired girl. She was not a Snakeling, nor an Autumnian. The young creature was dead. Merush changed his course back to the castle, and ordered the Snakelings to carry the body there.

***

Crane entered the magnificent castle, shaking snow off her black hair. A snowstorm had begun. She gasped in awe. Never ever had she seen anything so grand! The young Healer was hurriedly led through hallways - each more richly decorated than the previous. The Autumnians were beautiful folk - tall, stately, black-haired. At least the people she saw in the court were extremely handsome. Crane was still very young; one of the Birdling folk, at the age of sixteen she had barely reached her adulthood by Birdling laws. 

Birdlings lived West from the great lake Autumna, below the Blackwood lands. They were Healers, granted with the magic to become birds at will, their voices sang enchantments of life and their blood could save from certain death.

“Is this the Healer?” a stunning golden-haired woman in a red dress greeted Crane with contempt and disbelief in her blue eyes. 

“Yes, my Lady!” the servant leading Crane confirmed. The young Healer bowed. 

“Alright, we have nothing to lose. Come in!” Aurora opened the doors to her husband’s chamber. Lord Morten laid in bed, his breathing had become shallow, barely noticeable. 

Just some hours ago Aurora reached her hand toward the cushion to end her Lord’s suffering, but then Lord Morten opened his eyes. He tried to speak. Aurora leaned in to hear him. A single word Morten said; it burned her ear with the Lord’s fiery breath. 

Aurora straightened her back thinking. She ran out of the chamber.

“Get a Healer! I don’t care how! No matter how much gold or blood it costs, get me one now!” Her infuriated voice resounded through the castle. It took some hours, but the servants managed to get a young Birdling Healer to come. Crane was still an apprentice. This would be her first attempt at healing on her own. None of her people were willing to come - Lord Morten was said to be a villain. But Crane, still very young and honest, followed the ancient Healer’s law - a true Healer shall not leave a wounded soul to die! Even if this soul belonged to a villain. 

“Do the Healing! I’ll give you anything, all the gold you want. Just keep him alive!” Aurora said, looking at Morten with a determined look. 

“I don’t need the gold. Just bring me the plants I requested, and bring them quick,”

Crane didn’t waste any time; the young Healer examined the Lord’s wound, his heartbeat and breathing. 

She mixed up a potion, took out a silver dagger to cut her own hand and poured Birdling blood into it. All the while Crane sang a melodious enchantment which very much resembled a bird’s song. She slowly poured the potion into Morten’s mouth. 

Aurora didn’t leave her husband’s side.

“It’ll do for now. If this helps - I’ll have to give this potion to him every day until the next new moon rises.” the young girl spoke with a wisdom beyond her years.

“And if it doesn’t?” Aurora asked.

“Then… I know another life-binding spell. But… it’s a tricky one,”

“Do whatever it takes!” Aurora exclaimed.

“Please, do calm yourself, my Lady! Or you might hurt the child,” Crane said giving Aurora a meaningful stare.

“What child?” Aurora blinked.

“I am a Birdling Healer. We can see beyond the visible. Your body carries two souls within it. One is still very frail,” Cranes black bird-like eyes indeed had a depth of the starlit skies within them. Aurora was lost for words. She touched her stomach and looked at the Lord.

The potion delayed Morten’s death, but his state remained unchanged - he was neither dead nor living.

“I might try something different. But that would require assistance of your physician. It’s risky for both the Lord and me,” the young Healer suggested after examining Lord Morten.

“Do whatever it takes!” Aurora replied. She spent most of the time near her husband.

Crane prepared for the life-binding spell. It required to infuse the wounded with the healing Birdling’s blood directly, and a lot of it. The spell should have to be stopped as soon as the ill shows the first signs of recovery, not longer, or the Birdling giving his magical blood would be in danger. Since Crane herself was the Birdling giving the blood, the castle physician should be the one stopping the infusion.

Crane laid in a second bed brought into the Lord’s chamber. She had already cut the large blood vessels of Lord Morten’s hand and inserted an ivy string into the cut, now she hurriedly did the same with her hand, whilst singing a complicated enchantment and hoping she does it right. Only once had the young Healer seen this spell performed by her teacher.

“You must cut the cord as soon as the Lord wakes up. I may not be conscious to tell you,” Crane instructed the physician, handing him the silver dagger. Then she laid down and continued chanting the spell, her blood began to travel to the Lord through the ivy string; Birdlings usually used plants to perform their healing magic - weather in potions or life-binding spells.

Slowly Morten’s face began to regain colour, his breathing became deeper, all the while Crane’s sight grew weary, her voice weakened and her cheeks got pale. Aurora observed the Lord, her eyes widened as Morten’s chest rose with deeper breaths. Poor Crane was nearly unconscious as Morten finally opened his eyes. It seemed that every drop of Birdling blood he received made him more and more alive.

“You shall live, my Lord! I’ll make sure you will become stronger than ever,” Aurora stared in his dark eyes with an insane shine.

“My Lady, we should stop the infusion!” the physician exclaimed. Crane was drawing deep breaths to stay conscious, she could not speak, pale as snow.

“Do not dare to cut the cord, or you’ll end up as dragon’s dinner!” Aurora barked at him. Then she addressed Morten lovingly,

“You’ll recover soon, I will make sure you do…. My dearest,” The last word made the Lord’s eyes teary. Though he could not speak yet, his eyes replied with silent admiration.

“My Lady, if she gives any more blood, the girl will die!” The physician examined Crane, the Healer fainted, still the blood kept flowing to the Lord. He indeed felt better every minute.

“So be it! Your Lord’s life is worth more than a halfwit Birdling’s!” Aurora yelled at the man.

“My dearest,” Morten whispered to Aurora.

“My Lady, I cannot let her die!” Finally, the physician cut the cord and tied its ends firmly around both Lord’s and Crane’s arms, though no blood would ooze from the Crane’s end anymore. The poor girl laid lifeless, deadly pale with the wave of her black hair around her young face. The physician looked at Aurora, he trembled in fear, but the Lady did not care about him - she saw only Morten, sitting by him and caressing his face.

“What about the Healer? She’s barely alive,” the physician murmured.

“I don’t care! Feed her to the dragon!” Aurora gestured impatiently. The man bowed and went out of the chamber to call a servant.

The physician was a decent soul; he could not witness a Birdling Healer being fed to the dragon. Well, at least not right there, in front of the castle. The large, Red dragon growled and snorted, held by servants. The beast was impatient and hungry - if not fed or released to graze, it might soon attack whomever comes his way.

“Lady Aurora should let the old Red go. Or else we’ll be his dinner,” they pondered.

Then along came the physician and the servant with a lifeless girl in his arms.

“She’s feeding this child to Red? It’ll hardly make a snack!” The servants exclaimed.

The old physician scratched his head.

“You’re right! But her order was clear. Then again, I do not want this blood on my hands. I know!”

He commanded the servants to tie Crane to the dragon, then let it lose. Red might still have his snack, but at least they shall not be around to serve as the dragon’s proper meal.

The snowstorm raged as the darkness overtook the land. Red flew into the air, the winds played with the beast swirling it round and round.

***

Merush and the Elders observed the dead girl. All agreed - it was a bad sign for the new Snakeling Lord, to begin his reign with such an event.

“I’m not hungry for power - if the Foreverold finds me unworthy of this task, I’ll step aside,” Merush bowed to the Elders.

“It appears to be a bad sign indeed,” one of the Elders concluded. Merush nodded - his reign lasted only an hour. He was more concerned with their find; what had occurred to the poor child lying before them.

His cold Snakeling hand touched the girls palm - frozen.

“So be the Foreverold’s will,” Merush said and sighed.

Suddenly the girl drew a loud breath, opening her eyes. The Elders stepped back frightened. Her eyes were wide, black and bird-like. The girl grabbed Merush’s hand.

“The Foreverold’s will is such - you shall remain the Lord of the Snake-likes.

The Lake shall die a thousand deaths,

The land beneath reveal its depths,

Until the last son will be born,

His father’s guilt he shall forlorn.”

The girl never released Merush’s hand, her eyes shone with the light of distant stars on a winter’s night.

“Who are you?” Merush attempted to pull his hand away.

“I am Crane, a Birdling Healer. I have seen death, but the Foreverold sent me back, for my time had not yet come. Now I am to serve his will as long as it takes,” the girl said sternly.

Merush and the Elders stood silent.

“Why were you sent here?” Merush asked. Although revived, the girl was still weak. She laid, staring at the ceiling, but her sight was clearly captured by something invisible to the eyes of the living.

Merush ran into Herki’s chamber without knocking. Both Herki and Ulise woke up startled.

“I apologise, young Lord, but we received some unexpected news. My spies couldn’t fly in the snowstorm, but another messenger was sent to us. It appears Lord Morten is alive and he’s recovering!”

“How can that be?” Ulise helped Herki sit up.

“Lady Aurora summoned a Birdling Healer. They drained the poor girl out of her blood. But the Foreverold brought the dying child here,”

“Are there no boundaries to my father’s malice?!”

“I’m afraid there will be no boundaries to his power - his magic should be amplified by Birdling’s blood. It’ll take some time for him to recover, but when he does…” Merush shook his head.

“What can we do?”

“Prepare ourselves! While there’s still time,”

Luke went into the wood in the afternoon. The snow from the last night’s snowstorm rustled beneath his feet. The cold was nearly unbearable.

He enjoyed singing, but mostly he did it for the poor Snakeling girl. Luke thought that somehow his singing will make Anaish feel better.

Yet again he stood amongst the pines, singing the same old lullaby, and feeling like a fool - it must’ve been an awkward sight to see a young Thilian howling alone.

“Why do you make the same sounds again?” Suddenly a voice behind his back asked. Luke jumped up frightened, but smiled right afterward – so, she was listening!

There she stood with another big load of firewood on her back, shaking from the cold.

“I must get back indoors. The cold is deadly for us, Snakelings,” she turned to leave hurriedly.

“Wait! I’ll help! I do know other songs too. I can sing them, if you like,”

“I would like that,” Anaish replied quietly. Luke took her load and accompanied the girl to the shack, singing a song about water lilies.

“I would invite you for some tea, but…”

“I understand. Decency of the maidens,” Luke interrupted her. Anaish nodded, but just before she disappeared behind the door, the girl asked,

“Do you have any more songs inside of you?”

“I do!” he exclaimed happily.

Anaish gave him a cheeky smile and closed the door. Luke tilted his head in surprise - her cheeks formed lovely little dimples when the girl smiled heartily. Was that an invitation to sing again tomorrow? Just as Luke turned to leave, he ran into Anaish’s sisters. The two stared furiously at the young Thilian, and as they went inside, Luke could clearly hear them scolding Anaish.

The rest of his time Luke spent with Herki.

“Why couldn’t the Foreverold make your father die, rather than sending us a half-dead Healer?” Luke wondered. Herki chuckled, holding on to his wounded stomach; he had always admired his friend’s childish honesty.

“At least now we know exactly what we’re dealing with. And maybe the girl can help us when she recovers.” Herki replied.

“They say she’s an odd little creature,” Luke shrugged.

“Merush described her as “wise beyond her years”,”

“In other words - ugly, but smart,” Luke concluded, making Herki laugh and moan simultaneously.

The next day Luke once again sang in the pine forest, with the light of the setting winter sun shimmering in the snow. This time nobody came up to him. Still Luke believed - she was listening. He went away blowing warm breath on his own freezing fingers; the weather got colder each day.

“Herks… erm… I was wondering…” Luke stuttered the next morning.

“What is it, Luke?” Rarely had Herki seen his friend so bewildered.

“Could you, please, write me a poem?”

“A poem? For you? You know I love you, my brother, but I don’t want you kissing me for the poem,” Herki teased him.

“No! It’s not for me!”

“Ah! It’s for a girl,” Herki’s eyes narrowed with a sly smile, “do you want to get a kiss from her? I can honestly say - it works! It may take some time, but you’ll get paid in full,” Herki’s amber eyes shone with him giving a dreamy stare to Ulise, who had just entered the chamber.

“No, it’s not for a kiss, I… never mind,” Luke blushed and got up to leave.

“I’ll do it! Come later!” Herki shouted at his back, as the embarrassed boy ran out of the chamber.

Luke did come later, he peeked into the chamber shyly. Ulise wasn’t there. Good!

“That girl has left a lasting impression on you. I can hardly recognize my brother, coming in so quietly,” Herki smiled at Luke.

“What girl?” the latter stood blinking.

“The one you’ll give this poem to,” Herki waved a piece of paper in front of him.

“Oh, no! I’ll sing to her, the poem, I mean…”

“Ah, using your strengths to impress - a smart move,” Herki acknowledged Luke’s efforts.

“No! No! No! It’s not like that! I just want to make her happy!” Luke exclaimed, shaking his head.

“Of course, you want to make her happy! And then she’ll make you happy. That’s exactly how it works!” Herki laughed, holding to his stomach.

Luke growled infuriated, he grabbed the paper and rushed out of the chamber.

Once again, he stood amidst the pines with his feet freezing in the snow, exhaling clouds of warm breath as his song resounded through the forest. Luke turned around quickly and there she stood smiling behind a tall pine. His face lit up. Anaish couldn’t see it, she turned and went away without a sound. Although the boy opened his mouth to call her back, he stopped himself. Luke didn’t want the girl getting in trouble because of him. Hopefully his new song had made her feel better for a while.

“I need another poem!” Luke gasped, running into Herki’s chamber. Ulise smiled at his excitement, but Luke didn’t even care.

“So, she liked it! I’m glad I could help. But Luke, if it’s a Snakeling maiden, you cannot hope for a kiss anytime soon,”

“I don’t want to kiss her,” Luke frowned.

“Sure, you don’t,” Herki held back a smirk.

Luke turned to leave.

“Oh, we have to get ready for Merush’s coronation Ceremony,” Ulise reminded the two.

All the Elders, the Snakeling soldiers, the notable Snakelings and the guests gathered in the largest hall of the wooden castle.

Merush looked truly regal, ever more so because he wasn’t acting proudly. Not at all! He was determined to serve his people. His sight radiated confidence and determination, as the Elders put the fine silver crown on his head. The Snakelings were not pleased with their new ruler; his hair was short and that Autumnian woman by his side…They said she was a whore in the Autumna court! What a disgrace!

Little did they know - the beautiful long, black hair Merush had to cut off as soon as he entered the service of Lord Morten. It was the first humiliation the Lord gave his councillor; a servant could not have long hair, that was the privilege of an Autumnian Noble. And the Snakelings had no idea what poor Mari had to go through…

The Snakelings bowed to their new Lord reluctantly. His guests - Luke, Herki and Ulise congratulated him heartily.

The next days were even colder. Still Luke stubbornly went to the forest each afternoon and sang a new song for Anaish every day. Sometimes he saw her listening with a cheerful smile. Lovely dimples appeared in her cheeks and Luke found himself feeling warm inside. His songs truly made the girl happy!

Another snow storm emerged two weeks later. It howled all through the night and went on the whole next day. Still Luke snitched the new poem from Herki’s hand to run into the forest early in the afternoon.

The winds were freezing cold, Luke’s voice was drowned by the storm. He sang and he sang, without seeing anybody. She was listening! She must have been! After a longer while he decided to head back. The snowstorm got worse by the minute. Luke lost his sense of direction, he struggled through the deep snow, until he tripped over something. A load of firewood, and what’s that near it? Oh no… Anaish laid in the snow! The cold was indeed deadly to the Snakelings. Luke shook her, but she did not wake up. He grabbed the girl and carried her. After fighting through the wind and the snow, finally Luke found her shack. He tripped inside, laid the girl in her bed and closed the door. The shack was also cold - no wonder! Anaish had gone out to find some firewood, but Luke didn’t take it with them. There wasn’t any in the shack, Luke didn’t dare to go into the storm again, he might not find his way back. The girl’s skin was ice-cold, she laid stiff and lifeless, and Luke could not hear a heartbeat, putting his ear to her chest.

What now? Luke could not wait for her sisters to return; they must’ve been lost in the storm. Without thinking it through, Luke frantically took off Anaish’s clothes and laid her beneath the warm blankets, then he hurriedly took off all his clothes, laid beside the girl and wrapped his body around hers. Hopefully it was not too late! This was all his fault; Anaish stood listening to Luke’s singing until she froze.

Anaish’s body was soft, frail and deadly cold. Luke’s own body seemed hot like fire comparing to hers. Not a single dirty thought crossed the boy’s mind! He only wished to save the poor creature… After a while Luke felt Anaish’s body slowly regaining warmth, she moaned and moved. But before Luke got to explain himself, the doors slammed open. Anaish’s sisters stumbled inside, covered in snow, cursing at the storm.

“Anaish, why isn’t the fire burning…” the sisters stopped with their mouths ajar - the sight was unambiguous - their seventeen-year-old sister laid in bed with a naked man wrapped around her.

“Oh, I… no, it’s not… I was just… she nearly died I was trying to keep her warm…” Luke stammered getting up. Both sisters gasped and turned away. Poor Anaish - she couldn’t see what’s happening. She covered herself with the blanket, frantically turning her head. Luke got dressed and ran out of the shack embarrassed. He was a fool and a coward, but how could he explain himself? They would never believe him!