Chronicles of Logos Quest For the Kingdom Parts IV, V, VI, and VII Revised With Index (Quest For the Kingdom Set) (24 page)

Judoc and
Melisande watched and waited all night for Brenus. They urged Dag and the
children to go to bed and get rest. The hours dragged by and the night sped on.
But Brenus did not return.

When the dawn
arrived, Melisande dragged her weary body out of the chair where she had spent
the night and bid Judoc goodbye. Perhaps, she said, Brenus had gone to their
hut instead of coming to a late dinner at his mother’s. That seemed the most
likely explanation, although unlike him not to come for her and take her home.

But when she
entered their hut, there was no trace of Brenus to be seen. The fear she had
tried to stifle all night now took flight and alarm spread through every fiber
of her being. Brenus must be hurt, lying in the woods somewhere waiting for
someone to find him.

Forgetting her
animosity for her father-in-law, she now rushed to his hut and banged on the
door. It was opened by a heavy-eyed Dag who took one look at her ashen face and
pulled her inside.

“He isn’t
there! Oh, he must be lying in the woods, wounded or sick! Please, we need to
send a party to look for him at once!” she exclaimed.

Dag
immediately roused Dirk and Brand. Judoc hastened to Cort’s hut and informed
him that Brenus was missing. Without even waiting to break his fast, Cort flew
out of the hut and headed for the woods.

They trudged
through the long grass, not caring if any woodland animals heard them. For it
was not them that they had come to hunt. Cort headed the search party, which
had now been joined by several of the village men, who told Dag that they could
find Brenus faster if they spread out.

The tension
that had been between Dag and the men since Spring Festival was broken in their
mutual anxiety for Brenus, and he gratefully accepted their help. He and Brand
searched in one section, as Dirk paired off with Cort. Laig and another
villager went off in a third. Altogether there were five search teams fanning
the woods to find Brenus.

Dag was
dismayed by the forlorn and frightened expression on the face of his youngest
son. He put a comforting arm around Brand, and kissed the top of his head.

My boys, he
thought. What a blessing they are to me. I could not bear to lose even one of
them. Please, Dominio, let all be well with Brenus.

Cort had
thoughts of his own plague him as he hunted frantically for the brother with
whom he had grown up, fought with, played with, and loved as his best friend.
He and Dirk did not exchange idle words but saved all of their strength for the
search. Rain had fallen in the night and the sodden ground sucked their feet
and released them only with a struggle.

Cort did not
hope that the search would end well. Brenus was an experienced woodsman, and
for him not to return from a day’s hunt could only bode ill. He steeled himself
to find his brother’s body, and prepared for the worst.

It was Laig
who found him. He had penetrated deeper into the woods, and finding no trace,
decided to go off the path that was forbidden to leave. Laig knew the
injunction that had been laid on the Eirini long ago, and the peril one risked
for leaving the path. But having known Brenus since he was a baby, he decided
it would be just like him to leave the path.

He saw a mound
looming ahead of him, and recalled it had been a place of rituals in the old
days before the coming of Dag and Marcus Maximus. He had a sudden, momentary
revulsion assail him from nowhere, and a queer anxiety beset him. His heart
started racing, and the beating of his own heart was so loud to his own ears
that he was certain it could be heard by his companion.

Tis nothing,
he tried to assure himself. There can be nothing to fear in a mound of earth!

Yet, his heart
continued its strange beating, and he felt his palms suddenly grow wet with
sweat. There was something of evil that lingered in this place, he decided. But
we drove the Tuadan out, so why this sense of a dark presence here? It was then
that he became aware of the deafening silence. It was May, yet the birds had
stopped their singing, and there were hawks circling ominously overhead…

Just beyond
the mound, his eye was caught by what appeared to be a heap of rags.

No, he moaned
to himself, it can not be.

He paused for
a moment, and then raised the shout to the others.

They came
running hastily from all directions. As they scrambled to meet Laig, they all
stopped and stared at the bundle beyond the mound, and waited for Dag to
arrive.

He came with
Brand, followed by Cort and Dirk. One look at the faces of the others told him
everything he needed to know. He stood still as if rooted to the ground. Cort
and his other sons looked at his stricken face and came to stand beside him.
Then Dag moved slowly in the direction of the bundle.

He saw a body
lying face down on the ground, lying so still that it could not possibly be
living. He dropped to his knees beside it, still hoping that it would not be
Brenus, but some unfortunate hunter who had met with an accident. He hesitated,
reluctant to face the truth, before forcing himself to turn it over.

What was
revealed made all of them cry out in horror.

It was Brenus.
But the face was frozen in an expression of such terror that it was frightening
to see: the eyes popped open, the mouth hanging open as if seeing something too
unbearable to behold.

They examined
him for wounds or marks of injury.

But their
cursory examination revealed nothing…

It was Laig
who finally put it into words after they had stood in stunned silence for
several moments.

“There are no
wounds. No sign of injury,” he stated.

Then he voiced
the words that all of them were loathe to utter.

“It would
appear that something frightened Brenus to death.”

They carried
the body of Brenus to his hut, where his wife waited anxiously for their
return. Melisande heard their approach and she scrambled to open the door
before they could knock on it. She saw the stoic faces of Dag and her
brothers-in-law, and they told her all that she needed to know. She sank to her
knees and placed her face in her hands.

Seeing her
shoulders shaking with her sobs, Dag rushed to her side. He raised her to her
feet and gently pulled her hands away from her face. For a moment she refused
to look at him, her eyes rooted to the ground at her feet. He placed one finger
under her chin, and she at last raised her eyes to his. Her green eyes swam
with the tears that Dag could not shed, and the look of utter devastation on
Melisande’s face was too much for his father’s heart to bear.

He put one arm
around her tenderly and drew her head down to his chest. She hesitated for an
instant, as her hatred of Dag warred with the grief she bore for her husband.
But grief was stronger, and the tears flowed like a river released from a
logjam. Dag stroked her hair, and her sobs came even harder as she sensed the
compassion of the man she had hated for so long.

To those
looking on, Melisande had the appearance of a little girl clinging to her
father. They averted their eyes from her agony, and laid the body of her
husband at the door of the hut. Only Cort, Dirk, and Brand remained and waited
silently for her storm of weeping to subside.

At last
Melisande’s tears were spent. She did not immediately detach herself from Dag,
but remained quietly in the circle of his arm, drawing comfort from the great
man. He patted her shoulder and she drew back and gazed up into his face. She
shot him a questioning gaze as her body gave an involuntary shudder as one last
sob escaped from her throat. Finally, she straightened up and took a step back
to face her husband’s body.

She moaned and
dropped down beside him, placing her hands on his chest, and her tears began to
pour all over again. She buried her head on his breast and wept with abandon.
In the stillness around them, her weeping was the only sound to be heard.

The attention
of the others was suddenly arrested by the sound of running feet and a sharp
intake of breath.

“No! Not my
Brenus!” wailed Judoc as she beheld the body of her son.

Melisande
glanced up at her, and withdrew to allow Judoc her moment. Judoc dropped on him
and half-lifting his rigid body, cradled him in her arms as she rocked him back
and forth. Her tears were a torrent of scalding bitterness that seemed to have
no end to their flow. Over and over she called his name, and kissed his brow
with every declaration of it.

Cort could
stand it no longer. He wiped a fugitive tear from his own eye, but refused to
give in to a further release. Although he grew up in Eirinia, he was a Trekur
Lender by birth and inclination: he would not publicly show his grief for the
brother he had loved so dearly.

Dirk and Brand
had no such reservations, and silent tears cascaded down their cheeks
unashamedly. They each took the arm of the other for comfort, and were moved by
the abandonment of their mother’s grief. Dag looked on with hollow eyes that
bore the expression of one who can not believe the evidence of his own eyes,
but said nothing.

Judoc at last
ceased her weeping, and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her robe. Cort helped
her to her feet, and she clung to his arm for support. Then she remembered Melisande,
and went to her with arms opened wide. Melisande went into them and buried her
face against Judoc’s shoulder, as her own tears began erupting again. The two
women clung together and murmured words that were inaudible to the others who
stood patiently waiting nearby.

At last, Cort
signaled to his brothers, and they lifted the body of Brenus and bore it into
the hut. This action jolted Melisande out of her grief, and she followed them
hastily into her home. They laid him on the bed, and she collapsed beside it,
crying out his name.

Cort left them
abruptly along with Dirk and Brand, but Dag and Judoc remained with their
daughter-in-law. When she could cry no longer, Judoc pulled her to her feet.

“Come,
Melisande, you shall stay with us tonight,” she crooned softly. “I would not
expect you to remain here with your husband’s body.”

Melisande
exhaled a sigh of relief, and allowed Judoc to lead her by the hand as she
would a small child. She took what she would need for the night and followed
Dag and Judoc. As she stood in the door of the hut, she took one last look at
Brenus, lying on the bed with that mystifying look of terror on his handsome
young face and shook her head slowly in bewilderment.

Maelys and
Nolwenn had not joined the others. In their hearts they were frightened that
the news would be bad. Dearly they loved their brothers, and the loss of any
one of them would be great indeed.

“Do you think
he will be alright, Maelys?” Nolwenn whispered to her sister when they heard
the men returning.

She stared
anxiously into the eyes of her older sister; Nolwenn trusted her opinion and
sought it on all matters. Or at least she had before the advent of Melisande,
whom Maelys felt had supplanted her in the affections of her younger sister.
Maelys had smarted silently and clamped her lips tightly whenever she beheld
Nolwenn and Melisande giggling and whispering together.

Who was this
Melisande, and why did she not reveal her origins and family history, Maelys
wondered often to herself. Like Cort she did not trust her: unlike Cort, she
bided her time and kept her eyes open and her mouth shut.

 When the door
of their own hut burst open to reveal Dag and Judoc supporting a stricken
Melisande between them, both of the girls knew the truth at once. Nolwenn
immediately burst into sobs, while Maelys attempted to control herself. She was
very like her father in her ability to handle whatever life threw her away, and
not for the world would she betray her feelings in any way that also betrayed
her dignity.

“Oh, Melisande!”
Nolwenn cried as she rushed to the side of her sister-in-law. “Let me weep with
you, for surely Brenus was the best brother in the world!”

Melisande
obliged her by opening her arms to the young girl and holding her close, but
Maelys held back and looked on skeptically from under partially closed lids.

Just how
sincere is Melisande’s grief for her husband, she wondered silently.

Maelys had
never believed her innocent in the part she played in driving Cort away from
home. Maelys did not think Cort capable of desiring his brother’s wife, and she
silently scorned the tale that Melisande had told Brenus that so infuriated
him.

We shall see
my lady, how genuine your tears are for Brenus, she thought. And I shall be
watching your behavior with my brother Cort, now that you are free of your
husband.

They laid
Brenus to rest with the rites of the Alexandrians, beneath the limbs of a
willow tree that had been a favorite place of his to read or to dream. In
typical Eirini fashion, the wailing of the women was loud and long, not
believing it healthy to stifle one’s emotions. No one’s tears were louder than
the widow Melisande’s, who threw herself on the hastily made coffin that
contained the body of the husband she had known so briefly.

Cort watched
impassively, blinking back his own tears as he struggled for composure. His
wife Siv linked her arm into his, and his mother Brit stood on his other side,
her head resting occasionally on his shoulder in mute empathy for his unspoken
grief. His sister Maelys came to stand with them, and kissed the cheek of her
sister-in-law and smiled comfortingly at Cort.

Dag stood
erect with bowed head through much of the service. At his side stood Judoc,
whose weeping was more constrained on this day, having spent her tears in the
days before the laying to rest. Nolwenn’s tears streamed down her cheeks, but
she did not wail as the other women did. The daughters of Dag Adalbart had too
often seen his stoicism not to realize that he preferred they behave calmly even
in the midst of tragedy. Nolwenn flashed a look of mute appeal at her father,
who rewarded her with a slight smile and nod of his head.

Dirk and Brand
stood together behind Dag and Judoc and remembered the sound of Brenus’
laughter and his high spirits. Truly, Dirk had told Brand only the night
before, it was a good thing to enjoy life with the abandonment that their
brother had. And Brand agreed, although he had not that gift, but must always
question the value of everything that presented itself for pleasure.

Dirk marveled
that this day of tragedy was so fair and glowing with life. The sky was a
cloudless blue, and the birds sang sweetly as they clustered around the
graceful willow trees that crowned the emerald hill. How could the loveliness
of spring walk side by side with sudden death?

At last the
rites were over, and the family assembled in the home of Dag for their time of
mourning. According to Eirini custom, they must stay together for seven days
after the burial, that they might mutually comfort one another and help each
other to bear the loss of their loved one. That it might test the patience of
some of the Adalbart family members to be confined with Melisande was a truth
that Cort knew only too well.

That it was
not worse than he anticipated he could only attribute to the tact of Judoc,
Cort decided. For him it was too much to expect him to tolerate his
sister-in-law’s company that long. Already he saw the eyes of his own wife
watch Melisande for any signs of trouble to come. That he surprised the same
look in the eyes of his sister Maelys was oddly disturbing. He did not know how
much of the affair had been revealed to his siblings, and the thought that his
innocent sister should have any inkling of the accusations Melisande had hurled
against him made his blood boil in suppressed outrage.

It does not
matter that Brenus is dead and I am bound to be kind to her, he thought as he
looked at Melisande. Let her just try to start trouble and I will reveal
everything about her to my father. I doubt that Melisande will be so warmly
welcomed by Judoc when she learns that her mother nearly became Dag’s wife. And
that she knew that full well when she came to Eirinia to search for him; and
with what intentions for trouble only she knows in her heart.

After the
period of mourning, Dag happened to meet Laig on the green of the village
square. With a mutual nod of their heads they greeted one another with sudden
restraint. Then Laig relented and placed a comforting hand on Dag’s shoulder.
Dag did not shrug it off, but permitted it to remain and smiled at Laig.

They both
relaxed and strolled in companionable silence. The May morning was cool and
refreshing, with the promise of greater warmth later in the day. The scent of
the sea was borne on the breeze and Laig breathed it in appreciatively. To Dag,
no scent was as intoxicating as that of the woods, but he kept his preference
to himself.

Their aimless
rambling brought them to the edge of the forest. They both stopped, and cast an
apprehensive look at the trees within. Laig had been chewing a straw, and it
suddenly fell from his mouth as he gave his full attention to the vista before
him. He rubbed a finger across his chin and peered into the woods.

At last he
spoke.

“Strange
thing, what happened with Brenus,” he ventured at last.

He cast a
furtive glance at Dag to gauge his response. Seeing that Dag merely looked at
the woods, he dared to go on.

“Nothing like
that has happened before.”

Finally Dag
turned his gaze upon him and peered at him intently. Seeing no trace of malice
or mockery in Laig’s face he gave him his opening.

“What do you
mean?” he asked; yet in his heart he already knew.

Laig appeared
uncomfortable suddenly and hesitated. He threw a glance over his shoulder;
seeing that they had not been followed he continued.

“I mean this:
no one has ever been found with an expression like was found on his face, with
no mark on them, no explanation for what took the life of them. For though some
have left the path and not returned, none have been found off the path dead,
and with no reason for their demise.”

He lowered his
voice and glanced at the ground to avoid the question in Dag’s eyes.

“And?” Dag
prompted him to go on.

“The Tuadan:
he must have encountered the Tuadan. For it is clear that something frightened
him to death, and that mound had once been one of the sites of their rituals.”

“The Tuadan
were cast out of their places long ago,” Dag reminded Laig in a voice so stern
that it startled him.

“Yes, yes, I
know: I said the same to myself when I found his body. But the smell of evil
was in that place where we found him. An evil I remembered as a boy. For I
know; I had an encounter myself once, in that very spot. Long ago it was, yet I
remember it well. Indeed, it would be impossible to forget!”

And Laig shuddered
and passed his face across his hand. He closed his eyes for a moment, and then
raised his head to look at Dag.

“I was
seventeen, and walking in the woods one May evening, very much like this one. I
had gone to visit a friend in Annick and cut through the woods for a shortcut.
It had been a fine day, and the air was full of birdsong, something I always
missed in the winter months and noticed in the spring.

“As I wandered
along I disregarded the warnings to stay to the path. Oh, I had been told many
times not to stray from it, but the grass was so green and I took off my shoes
to feel it between my toes as I walked through it. I recall laughing for pure
joy and spinning around, very silly I know, but I was only a youth.

“As I spun
around I suddenly became aware that the birds had stopped singing. Just like
that; one minute singing their songs, the next complete silence. I had an eerie
feeling come over me, and realized there was no sound of anything else in the
spot. Do you know how many sounds are to be heard in the woods, Dag? Birds
singing, rabbits rustling through the grass, squirrels leaping through the
trees, making the branches creak beneath them, twigs snapping as deer leap and
descend. There was nothing,
nothing
I tell you!

“And then, I
heard it. A footstep. And another. Right behind me. I turned and looked. There
was no one there. But I saw something that nearly frightened the life out of
me. The grass, Dag. The grass suddenly fell beneath an unseen step; the same
step that was following me.

“I did not
wait to see who was there but ran as fast as I could back to the path. For once
I was on the path I would be safe; that is what I had always been told, and to
the path I flew. I tore out of that place as fast as I could, never looking
behind me to see what followed, all the way until I was safely out of the
woods.

“And
he
was found in that very spot. And even as a boy, he tried to leave the path to
explore beyond. And if you were to ask me, it was leaving the path this time
that killed him.

“Because in my
heart, I know he had an encounter with the Tuadan, and whatever he saw scared
the life right out of him.”