Devra had been gone for almost a year and Jherog was pleased to find he thought of her less and less. In the first few weeks, he’d often found himself worried, concerned for both her safety and well-being. And that concern had grown exponentially when he’d received a letter from her several months ago. It had arrived at the tavern for him, seemingly out of nowhere. He’d hoped to find friendly words telling him of her happiness in Linden, but it was not so. She’d written of the terrible travels and brutal sorts of people she’d met along the way. How another woman she’d befriended had actually taken off during the night having taken all of her items of value. She’d been forced to stop in a small village and work for wages for a few weeks before she could continue her travels. Ultimately, she’d reached Linden safe and sound and found her mother’s sister happy to receive her. By the end of the letter, there was slight optimism. However, its closing words were forever etched into his memory.
“The images of Rhosh and Daline haunt my dreams, even when my eyes are not closed. The images have taken up such space that I can’t even recall what my mother looked like. You took me in, sheltered me, and became like a father to me. I fell in love with you. What am I to do with all of these feelings and confusion?”
He’d read those words hundreds of times, heard them said in her voice in his mind over and over again until he thought he’d go mad. He‘d contemplated going after her when Jevlyn had discovered his plan.
”Leave Grindl? Are you mad?” she’d asked him, a strange and angry tone in her voice. ”You can’t leave. The village needs you.”
”Grindl will find a new Protector or Keeper…whatever they wish. I must go.”
”Why? What is out there for you?” He looked at her and there seemed a genuine confusion and pain in her eyes. ”Why must you go?” They stood staring at one another and Jherog finally confessed. He’d told her everything, even about Devra having kissed him. Though surprised, Jevlyn had been supportive.
”You did what you thought was best for the girl,” she told him. ”You bear no responsibility to what happened to her here in Grindl, nor to what choices she’s made since then.” There was a part of Jherog that hesitated at that. Clearly, that wasn’t how Devra saw it or felt. Even if he had done what he thought best, undoubtedly it hadn’t been. Perhaps allowing her to run away had been a mistake also. ”For all you know, she’s cultivated a wonderful life for herself in Linden since writing that letter.” She was right. It’s possible he would have arrived in Linden to find Devra happy, readying to marry a nice merchant or tradesman, having laid the foundations for a happy future. Going after her didn’t make sense. Besides, what would he do once he got there? Look after her as a father? Become her lover? He shook the very thought out of his head. It didn’t make sense. She was Derina’s youngest daughter. Lovely Derina, who’d died years ago when a strange infection had spread in the village. Lovely Derina, whom he’d loved and admired from afar since they were children. Lovely Derina, who would be devastated to learn her daughter was so unhappy.
”Where did you go?” Jevlyn asked as she rolled back onto his chest, kissing it. She looked up at him and he smiled. His mind had wandered to Devra again, for the first time in a long time. But looking over at Jevlyn’s soft and graceful naked form next to his pushed it all away. He was always amazed at what she was able to arouse in him. He’d never felt anything like it. He smiled at her.
”Nowhere,” he told her. ”I’m happy right here.” He kissed her delicate lips and felt a rush of excitement in his loins again. She giggled.
”Again?” She asked as she climbed on top of him. They made love, their bodies intertwined and moving like in a well-rehearsed dance. It was so easy, so comfortable, and so satisfying. Jherog caught himself wondering why it had taken him so long to see Jevlyn in that way. She was beautiful, slender, strong, and very smart. Were those not great qualities in a woman? They parted, their bodies pealing away from one another, drenched in sweat. Jevlyn sighed and laughed again. He laughed with her and then reached over for his undershirt.
”I’m famished,” he told her and she nodded. He rose, dressed, and moved toward the door. ”Want me to bring something back?” She shook her head, no.
”I’ll join you in the kitchen. It’s almost midday. We should make an appearance in the village. I’m sure someone has need of you.”
”There’s always someone,” he joked. It was true. His tenure as leader of the village had only strengthened in the last year. Though another attack had been feared, none had come. But the villagers seemed to like his leadership. He kept the peace, especially since he’d appointed Jevlyn as Commander of Protection. The two of them worked well together, in more ways than one.
He opened the door and walked into the kitchen. It was cold as the fire in the hearth had extinguished through the night. He stirred the coals to no avail when there was a knock at his front door. He sighed as Jevlyn stepped into the room half-dressed.
”Probably Delix,” she said. ”Though my second in command, he’s incapable of making any decision without me.”
”You are our wise and fearless protector,” he joked. ”Nothing can be done without you.” Jevlyn laughed and the knock repeated. Smiling, she walked over and answered the door. Jherog could hear the whispered conversation as he refueled and renewed the flames. When he heard the door close, he looked up at Jevlyn. He couldn’t read her face, but something felt off. ”What is it?” he asked.
”A caravan of traders just arrived from the West,” she told him and he nodded, waiting for more information. ”Among them is a man…” He smiled, waiting for her to continue. ”He’s come from Linden,” she told him and his smile morphed into a look of confusion, though his heart stopped. Devra, he thought.
”And?” He asked with a slight desperation in his voice. Jevlyn held out a stack of envelopes. He looked at them and felt his breath leave his body. ”What is it?
”Letters for you,” she told him. He hesitated and then walked over to retrieve them. There were three. All from Devra. He stared at them, dumbfounded, unsure what to think. ”I must go and greet the travelers,” she made her excuses. He looked up at her. He didn’t want her to leave. ”It’s my duty as Protector,” she told him. He couldn’t argue, and a part of him didn’t want to. Jevlyn hesitated, looking at him, hoping he would stop her, but he couldn’t. She stepped closer to him and smiled. ”I’ll see you later?” He nodded, and she left.
As soon as the door shut behind her, he moved to sit at the table. He opened the first letter. It was dated five months ago.
”Jherog, I don’t know how I will get this letter to you, but I must write it. Life in Linden is fraught with despair. Dhera, my mother's sister, has fallen ill. I expect her end is near, just like mother. She is consumed with a fear that we will lose the farm. Rhia, now having seen fifteen turns, is having to acquire a husband to try and save it. Dhera had hoped I would assume that responsibility, but I cannot. Linden is not my home. This farm is not my home. You are my home. But you cast me out. And though I should feel warmth and a future here, I do not. I am but a lost and scorned woman without a family or a home. And there is rumor of a darkness spreading across the land. What happened in Grindl has happened in many other villages across the North. The people of Linden are filled with fear. Division is brewing as neighbor turns against neighbor. What kindness and generosity there ever was has vanished, replaced with selfishness and distrust. Rhia and I have no one to turn to for aid or comfort. She has found a willing suitor, but he is brutal and unkind. He will surely cast me out once they marry. I can’t help but wonder what my life would be like had you accepted and returned my affections. We could have married. We could have made a home for ourselves. Perhaps a family. I’d be safe. I’d be happy. Or perhaps, I’m delusional. Perhaps I‘ve lost all ability to make sense between the blurry father figure you became and the love I so desire and crave. What’s to become of me?“
It was simply signed with her name. His chest tightened as he re-read the letter, trying to make sense of what he was reading. How had this young girl left such devastation only to find more? He opened the next letter, hoping to find better news. It was dated three months ago.
”Jherog, Dhera is gone. It’s been a week and the time to mourn has passed and now become consumed with feigned celebration for Rhia’s marriage to the vile Gredik. Though betrothed to her, he has come for me several times. Once married, I’m uncertain whether he will cast me out, to avoid his obvious hunger for me, or allow me to stay at Rhia’s plea. I fear both. Cast out, I have nowhere to go. But if I am to stay, I’m unsure I can fight off his advances and fear the consequences of it. Will then Rhia turn against me? Or would we both be forced to live in constant fear, servants to Gredik’s bidding and lust for the remainder of our lives? Is this what life is supposed to be like? I am in a constant state of fear and my only respite is the odd sleep where I don’t have nightmares, but dream of you. Your kindness. The warmth and comfort of your gentle touch. Your loving embrace. Is that the only good I will have? Distant memories of a man who rejected me? And within all this, the rumor of trouble scourging across the land grows ever stronger. I can only hope that you are safe, well, and happy. My love, Devra.”
Jherog couldn’t deny the restrictive pain that spread across his chest as he read the letter. It hurt to breathe. What was happening to poor Devra, he wondered. Without hesitation, he opened the final letter, dated almost three weeks ago.
”My dearest Jherog, it is done. The fates have decided. I am a taker of life. I do not deserve to live and breathe, least of all to love. I am grateful you are not here to witness what has become of me. And hopefully, you’ll never have to. It won’t be long before the Linden Watch has learned of my awful deeds. They will come for me and I will surely be relieved of my pain-filled life. And while I fear death, it is only because it will restrict me from seeing you once more. I wish to feel your strong and loving embrace. For I understand now, that you do love me. That is why you cast me out. Just as Gredik threatened to. Only, you did it for love. You love me as no other ever has or will. I am grateful I got to experience that, even if only for a short time before I left Grindl, and now. Thank you for loving me despite all that I am. You must lead the people of Grindl, and all Goridians, with the love you’re capable of at the forefront. You must bring back order and civility. You are the beacon our land needs to navigate these difficult times. For the evil will spread. And while I can be at ease in not being here to witness it, I am sorry I won’t be here to see your love conquer it. I love you, and always will. Your Devra.”
Jherog crumbled the letter in his fist, anger rising within him, but he quickly held himself back. He didn’t want to ruin it, and he needed to keep calm and rational. His breathing quickened and his head began to spin. What was he to do? Could he simply ignore the letters? Devra clearly needed him at her side, and he’d abandoned her, left her to the cruel fates of the world.
Guilt and shame filled his heart as he ran to his room and prepared to leave. He had no other choice. He had to go and save her, or learn if she were still alive at least. The thought of arriving in Linden only to find she’d been executed by the Watch overwhelmed him with fear and sadness. The words ‘it’s my fault’ repeated in his brain over and over again. He packed a few shirts and trousers, ran to the kitchen, and threw what food he could grab to add to his pack. He turned to leave and saw two empty cups sitting on the table. Jevlyn, he suddenly remembered. What about Jevlyn? He hesitated as he ran through scenarios of telling her everything. In each one, she either grew angry or heartbroken and didn’t understand. In his mind, she accused him of betrayal, of loving Devra this whole time and simply using her. But that wasn’t the case, he told himself. Yes, he loved Devra, but like a daughter. It couldn’t be more than that, he reasoned. Perhaps he was confused at times because of the likeness to her mother, but no. She was like a daughter to him, and a good father protects his daughter. A good father would do anything to help his daughter. And perhaps she was confusing her love for him also, but clearly, she needed him. He had to go. He looked at the cups once more, then grabbed his cloak at the door, and left, the letters still in his hand.
What should have taken him weeks, somehow he’d done in less. Jherog found himself entering the gates of the city of Linden. It was very dark, as it was the time of no shadows, the moon hidden from sharing its light. The guard at the gate looked him up and down, surmising his level of threat. He obviously didn’t deem him any as he allowed him to walk through without a word. Of course, it was simply Jherog on a single horse, with only a small pack attached. What possible threat could he bring into such a vast city as a lonely traveler? Still, his heart was pounding in his chest. He hadn’t a clue what to expect in finding Devra, or if he’d find her at all. She’d called herself a ’taker of life’. Had she killed someone? If yes, who? The awful Gredik? That was the only option that made sense to him, but he just couldn’t picture Devra taking anyone’s life. Devra was strong, but not in the physical sense. Her body was thin, small, and delicate. How could she have killed anyone? The urgency to know compelled him to push his heel into the horse's side, forcing it into a light canter. It wasn’t long before he found himself in the city’s large square. All of the merchant huts and booths were closed. He looked around for anything that could help him find Devra, and his eyes fell on a tavern off to the side. He tied his horse up out front and entered. It was a big room with few people in it. Only one or two turned to look at him, including the barkeep.
”What say you, stranger? Care for a pint?” His voice was low and loud. It echoed off of the beams in the ceiling. ”Or are you looking for shelter?” Jherog stepped up to the counter, smiling.
”I’m uncertain,” he told him. ”I’m looking for a friend.” He stopped, unsure of how to word his question. Could he ask for Devra directly?
”What friend is that?”
”Rhia,” he told him, and the barkeep's brow furrowed in confusion.
”What friend are you to Rhia?” He sounded defensive, but Jherog kept his smile.
”A friend to her mother actually, Dhera. Though I’ve not seen her in ages. I come from Grindl with news from her sister's family.” The barkeep's face seemed to relax at that.
“I see. Well…” he hesitated, unsure how to respond. ”Dehra’s farm is just a short way passed the library, just before the western limits.” Jherog nodded.
”I thank you, friend.” He turned to leave but stopped when the barkeep spoke again.
”I don’t think you’ll like how you’ll find them,” he told him. ”I hate to be the one to tell you, but Dhera passed, some time ago now.” Jherog pretended to be shocked, hoping it seemed genuine. ”Rhia was married shortly thereafter, to Gredik, a brute of a man, if I may say so. Since becoming his, none have barely left that house.” Jherog widened his eyes, pretending he didn’t know what to say.
”Nonetheless, I must see Rhia, if only to check on her welfare on behalf of the family.” The barkeep nodded.
”Good man,” he said. ”I’ll keep a room for you, just in case you need it. I can’t be sure Gredik will welcome you much.”
”My thanks, barkeep.” Jherog nodded and quickly left.
The house was dark, save for a light protruding from one of the upper-floor windows. The doors of the small barn behind it were wide open, but nothing could be seen inside. A part of Jherog wanted to rush into the home and call for Devra, but something held him back. There was a tingling sensation running up and down his spine. Something was wrong. There was a strange stench in the air. Jherog had smelled it before but couldn’t place it.
He tied his horse to a pillar at the front of the house and slowly walked toward the front door. It was slightly ajar, but there was no light. He stopped and stared at it.
”Hello?” he called. ”Devra?” No movement could be heard. ”Hello?” He waited less than a moment and then gently pushed the door open, making his way into the home. The strange smell was definitely coming from within the house. He moved aside to close the door and felt his hip hit something. He moved his hand and felt a small wooden table. He grabbed it’s side to ensure it wouldn’t fall over and felt a strange waxy substance. A candle, he realized and sighed in relief. He reached for the firestarter in his pocket and lit it. When the flame caught, and his eyes adjusted, he finally looked around. His eyes widened as they took in the scene. Furniture was scattered throughout the room as though it had been thrown. Chairs were on their backs and sides. A small table was upside down, its legs extended toward the ceiling, with a very visible crack along the length of it. The white sheer curtains were closed along the windows, but torn in several places. It was impossible to tell what had caused such damage. His nerves tightening, he turned to the staircase leading up to the second floor. There were dark smears and splatter stains along the wall. Was that blood, he asked himself, taking a deep breath.
”Devra?… Rhia?” he called but there was no answer. He placed his foot on the first step and stopped when he heard a sound. ”Devra? Are you there?” The sound repeated, sounding like soft footsteps coming from a room above. And then the soft click of a door closing. His heart pounding in his chest, his mouth drying with each step, Jherog slowly crept up the stairs. The foul odor seemed to be getting stronger. When he reached the top, he found himself on a landing with a hallway with five doors. All were open to darkness, except for one. It was closed, with a faint stream of light sneaking out from behind it. He could feel his heartbeat more than hear it as he took one step after another toward it. Should I knock, he wondered. Deciding against it, he slowly turned the knob and pushed the door open. The first thing he noticed was the smell. It seemed to thicken and it felt as though he were now coated in it. He felt his stomach turn and so quickly changed to breathe only from his mouth. As the door opened, the light remained, but once halfway opened, it suddenly extinguished, and a sudden gust blew out his candle also. He looked down at his candle, confused, and then felt his breath suddenly leave his body as he was tackled to the ground. There was screaming as what felt like two fists hit his chest and claws scratched at his face. He tried to pry the hands away from him, but the strength behind them was determined.
”Stop!” he yelled. But the hitting and scratching didn’t stop. He somehow grabbed the creature and pushed them over, rolling on top of them. The body continued thrashing underneath him, making it nearly impossible to grab it and hold it down. He couldn’t see anything but felt hair or fur. The screaming grew louder and was beginning to pierce Jherog’s ears. He finally grabbed a hold of some part of it and held it down. ”Stop! Please!” he yelled as it continued convulsing underneath him. A suddenly louder and very high-pitched scream exploded into the room. The pain of it reaching his ears weakened Jherog’s arms and the creature was able to break free. His hands free, Jherog grabbed at his own ears, trying to cover them and protect them from the shrill screech. He felt a sudden kick to his ribs and collapsed. The kicking continued and finally got him in the face. He fell back, feeling blood gush from his nose. His head was spinning. He felt the creature standing over him, one foot on either side of him. It was likely looking down at him. Perhaps it was laughing. Unwilling to wait and see what it would next do, Jherog brought his leg up and forced it down on the creature, hitting it and forcing it to the ground. It whined as it fell. Jherog quickly stood and reached down to grab it. He felt a thick cluster of hair and grabbed it in his fist, twisting as he pulled up. The creature screamed in pain, but he didn’t care. This vile creature could be what killed Devra, he thought. Why then should he show it mercy? A dim light filled the room and he could see the outline of a bed. He dragged the creature over to it and slammed it down on top of it, holding the hair tightly in his grasp.
”Where is Devra?” he cried. But the creature only kept screaming and struggling. ”Where is Devra? Did you kill her?” He was screaming, his heart ready to explode with anger and sadness. What a terrible end my poor Devra would have met at the hands of this thing, he thought. He raised his fist and held it above the creature. “Tell me what happened to Devra!” But it refused to answer. The creature's silence angered him all the more, so he slammed his fist down as hard as he could. He heard a terrible crack and felt a terrible pain in his knuckles as they made contact with whatever he held down. But the creature stopped moving and grew silent. All Jherog could hear was its breath. He stepped back, trying to catch his own breath. He could still feel blood trickling from his nose, but he ignored it. At least it was interfering with the stench. He reached for his firestarter. When a flame finally formed, he squinted from the brightness and allowed his eyes to adjust. He scanned the room and jumped back when he saw two bodies in the bed. The source of the stench, he realized. A woman and a man lay next to each other, both of their eyes wide open, frozen in shock or fear. Their mouths hung open also, as though a scream had been suddenly and forcibly stopped. The man was large and grizzly-looking. The woman was smaller, but still thick. Could this be Gredik and Rhia, Jherog wondered. But then, what had become of Devra? He wanted to search the rest of the house but decided he should secure the strange creature first. He looked down at it, and while there was much hair, he could also see a small body underneath it all. His face scrunched in confusion. He could see thin and frail ankles and wrists. He slowly reached down and began moving the hair aside. There was so much of it. When he finally pushed it all away, he was stunned and lost all feeling and sense of reason. He quickly cradled the head in his hands and began to cry. “Devra?” He cried, in a harsh whisper. “Devra, it’s me, Jherog. Wake up.”
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Ⓒ November 2022. Beki Lantos. All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, or transmitted in any form by any means without prior written permission of the author.