Mist upon the Marsh: The Story of Nessa and Cassie (27 page)

Chapter XXXIV:

The Prince Consort

B
ut, after sitting for a while in silence, the new friends rose up together, and made back to Mindren. Finn let them in through the trap-door, and they went on together through the halls, till they had come to his and Elia’s adjacent chambers. Here, they bid one another goodnight. Elia even offered to Nessa a heartfelt kiss upon the cheek, and Finn shook her hand warmly.

She left them, then, and went on in a meandering sort of way towards her own chamber. The last thing on her mind, of course, was Morkin; but just as fortune would have it, she spotted him presently strolling towards her, down the opposite side of the corridor.

“Hello, Nessa,” he said politely, tipping his head.

“Hello, Morkin.”

“You should be asleep, you know. Father will call for you early tomorrow.”

“You needn’t worry about me, Morkin. I will come when I am called.”

“That’s a fine trait in you, Nessa,” Morkin declared. “Not many women – or so I have observed – take so well to their orders. But you do it quite as well as I, or my brothers, do. I am very impressed with you, if you do not know that already.”

Then he leant back against the wall, and offered her a smile that she had seen so seldom upon his face. He was not quick to be moved to amusement, or mirth – but presently he seemed thoroughly contented, and merely on account of Nessa’s presence.

“As you seem wholly agreeable to the prospect of rising so early, anyway,” he said, “why not pass a little time with me? Perhaps the night would not seem so long, if we were together.”

“And what, Morkin,” said Nessa tonelessly, “would Rina think of that?”

“What would Orin?” he returned, in a manner very calm and composed. He waited a moment, obviously hoping that she would speak; and when she did not, he persisted (with only a touch of impatience): “What of it, Nessa?”

Nessa said nothing, but watched him blankly.

“Give me your answer,” he said.

“You know you speak wrongly,” Nessa admonished. “What answer would you have?”

“Yes or no.”

“No, then.”

His mouth fell open in astonishment, and he stood up straight, to gaze wonderingly at Nessa. But then he shook himself, for his pride was wounded; and with a stiff nod, he went away from Nessa.

~

But now, we return to Cassie. The Sunday after she flew from LeMontagne Boulevard in a wretched rage, she extracted the money which Nessa had left her, from a hiding place she had ripped in the fabric of her mattress. Then she drove all the way to Oklahoma, where she opened a bank account and deposited the greater part of the cash. Afterwards, she returned to the house of Birdie Post; packed every stitch of her clothing, and her guitar; and fled from the place.

It seemed very simple, when she began on this course – but she came quickly to wonder (just as quickly as she had made the decision to leave), in what direction she was actually heading? To quit one place must be to take another; unless, of course, death is somehow acquired in the journey between the two places. But Cassie was not so fortunate (or, at the very least, this was how she had come to think about it) as to find such an end; and so the road which stretched before her appeared very long, and very uncertain.

She drove for a long while in circles, wondering what she would do. Finally she went, to the cheapest motel that the town had to offer, and used a portion of the money she had retained, to rent a room. But the loneliness of the place was unbearable; and very soon she was off again, into the darkness, into the night. She made it somehow to the Gulf, where the air was warmer, and filled with the fresh smell of salt. She put the car where Nessa once had, and went stumbling across the beach to the lighthouse. Here she took up a pair of bolt-cutters, which she had stolen from Tommy Wells’s garden shed, and cut the lock on the door. She kicked open the door, and went running up the many steps; but walked slowly into the Keeper’s Room, and towards the great window that faced the crashing waves.

She stood there for a long while; and could almost feel Nessa beside her. Though this, indeed, was the effect she had been seeking, still it overwhelmed her, and forced her to move away from the glass. She went slowly round the room, round and round, over and over again, until she grew weary. Then her eyes fell upon the mattress; and her body followed, and fell down, too. Here, she could not only
see
Nessa, but could even feel her arms; could feel her face, near to her own . . .

She let out a shriek, and hid her head beneath the blankets, to block out the night. Her breath came quick, but slowed with the return of Nessa’s arms, which held her up, and away from the abyss.

She closed her eyes, and the night faded away. There was only the sound of the roaring waves, and Nessa’s small voice in her ear.

~

Nessa had a dream – though it was some nights after Cassie arrived there alone – of the Bellman’s Cove. It was broken into pieces, and blurred to indistinctness; but still she could feel the strength of it, an imperfect memory. She saw Cassie, standing beside the glass of the Keeper’s Room. But then the scene shifted to the burnt clearing, and the severed tree. She saw Cassie sitting upon it.

She spoke something to her; but Nessa did not hear it. The horror of her face so sorrowful, shook her immediately from a deep sleep. She looked all around the room, nearly convinced that Cassie would be there; but alas, she was not. There was only emptiness, and she was alone.

But several nights later, there occurred a thing both strange and wonderful. When she lay down to sleep, weighted and chained by her own misery and inaction, she heard the sound of a voice, emanating from the place beside her, which she knew very well to be empty. Empty as always.

“Why do you stay?” the voice asked simply. Nessa opened her eyes, and looked to see her brother, sitting there upon the bed. He struck a match to light the candle on the bedside table. “Why,” he persisted, “when your heart does not want it?”

“What else can I do, brother?” Nessa returned, hiding her eyes from the light.

“You can do what you ought,” he said sternly. “Have a little pride, sister! Have a little courage!”

“But – but I thought –” She dropped her face into her hands. “I thought this was what you wanted for me?”

He smiled; but his eyes were filled with regret. “Ah, sister,” he said; “how wrong I was! There are some things you cannot know, you see, while you are alive. But when you are dead! Things are so different here. There is always light, for the darkness is banished. What lies dwelt there in the shadows – well, now they are gone.”

He reached out, and pressed her shoulder. “Perhaps you need only cast out your own shadows. You will see more clearly, then, I think.”

There came a loud knock at the door. Caramon looked to it with a frown; but when he turned back to Nessa, his face was fit again with a smile. “Go, Nessa,” he said. “Go and set it right.”

The air around him seemed to shiver, as he disappeared.

Again came the knocking.

“Half a moment!” Nessa cried, leaping from the bed. “Half a moment, now!”

She opened the door, and saw Morkin there, with the displeasure of his countenance augmented eerily by the dim light of the hall.

“Good evening, Nessa,” he said.

“What do you want, Morkin?”

“I want your attention.”

“You have it – for the moment. But in another, I shall return to my bed. I am very tired.”

He peered into the room. “Then why is your candle burning?”

“What business is that of yours?”

His expression tightened; and he struck out with his fist against the door. “Quit with your games!” he hissed. “You cannot strive for something the likes of which you are being offered – and then lash out against the one who must help you to attain it. I asked you politely, several nights ago – but now I will not be so polite. I want you to come with me. To my chamber.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

He leant nearer to her, and looked for a moment into her face, his nostrils aquiver with fury. He then aimed a blow at the wall, and the very stone seemed to tremble with his strength.

“You cannot say no to me,” he said. “You are to be my mate, after all.”

“I am paired to Orin.”

“No!” he cried. “You are paired to me. I have only just left my father’s chamber, where we discussed the subject at great length.”

“Is Rina aware of this?”

“No.”

“And Orin?”

“Of course not,” he sneered. “Who would have told him?”

“Then we are nothing of the kind, Morkin,” Nessa said; and proceeded to shut the door upon him.

But he stopped it with his foot, and reached for her with both hands. He wrapped them round her throat, and pinned her to the wall.

“I assure you,” he whispered. “We are.”

Nessa pushed out against him; and he fell away from her, and struck his head against one of the heavy bedposts. As he slid down to the floor, and put a hand to his bloodied head, she was reminded of the night of the Red Pavilion, when Leyra had come to her room – and was stricken then, by the same had which struck Morkin now. She watched him carefully, as he began to pant, and leant dizzily against the bed. She took a moment to wonder deeply at what mistakes she had repeated: and certainly they did not consist solely of stricken and bloodied heads.

“You shall regret this,” said Morkin, struggling upwards to his feet.

“So I always hear,” said Nessa. She turned on her heel, and made to leave the room.

“Wait!” hollered Morkin. “You wait just one moment, Nessa.”

She looked back reluctantly.

“Without me,” he said, “you shall have none of what you were promised. You will never be Queen.”

“I would much rather not be,” Nessa retorted, “if you were to be my King. Ah – you to be King! My Prince Consort, rather.”

“You say that now,” said Morkin hotly, “and you mock me now – but you will change your mind. Apologise to me. You remember the first weeks we spent together, just after you arrived? I believe you felt more for me then, than you feel at present. Recall how you felt, then – and perhaps all will not be lost.”

“I have already lost all,” Nessa said quietly. “And you mistake what I felt for you, Morkin. It was not what you think. And think, now – if I could never love Orin, how could I ever love you?”

Still, she looked long into his face, before she left; and she was entirely assured of one thing. She would be perfectly content to be his Queen, and to exchange the occasional blow with him – indeed, even to break poor Orin’s heart at last to bits. Yes, she could do all of this; could do all of it and more, if there existed no such person upon the earth as Cassandra MacAdam.

Perplexed now to the point of no remedy, Morkin made her no answer. He only watched in amazement, as she turned from him once more, and vanished into the hall.

Episode VI

Chapter XXXV:

Fire in the M
arsh

F
or the first time in what seems rather a long time, we shall return to that lonely swampland, and the house of Qiello and the banished Voranu. Assuredly they have all been diligently employed since the time that they parted with us, brewing up all sorts of things which we would call trouble, in an effort to finally attempt the task which they would call noble, and wholly deserving.

Still the mind of Qiello was fixed raptly upon Nessa, despite the fact that his eyes were not able. She felt no more of it, and experienced no more instances of invisible eyes upon her back, while she was at Mindren; but still Qiello thought of her, and plotted against her, as the very nearest thing to him which could possibly serve as a substitute for the punishment of Morachi, who had dismissed Qiello, and all of his people.

Still that fire burnt, in and around Qiello. It had spread quickly to the hearts of his sons, and more slowly to all the rest of his clan. Every single one of them, however, was presently afire, and seeking as heartily as Qiello for a way to fuel the flames.

This search had been, for a long while, one of silence. There was nothing but to watch, and to wait, and to weigh the anticipated effects of one proposed action against another, and then another and another.

Yet the plot began in sincerity, the night that Nessa took Cassie with her to the Bellman’s Cove. Of course she had not known it, and of course she did not know it now; but Qiello himself had been watching that night, having ventured forth from the swamp for the first time in years, so as to track Nessa’s movements.

He had learnt, through the intelligence of his sons (who had also been granted permission to leave the marsh), that Nessa was one of the mighty children of Dahro, second in greatness only to her brother, who was second, then, only to Morachi himself. This most certainly sparked Qiello’s interest even more greatly – and he knew in that brief instant, without reservation, that he must make this professedly great family suffer.

He realised at the Bellman’s Cove, that the bond between Nessa and Cassie (the latter of whom had been, at that time, nameless to him) was stronger than what he ever could have suspected. He knew – oh, how happily did he know! – without doubt, just as soon as he witnessed Nessa change her shape before Cassie’s eyes.

And then his plans began earnestly to unfold. He understood perfectly the place to strike; and he resolved to begin the necessary preparations immediately.

He knew full well that he could not gain access to Nessa against her will. And so he needed reach her through this other: this weak and helpless human. With a generous measure of care, and a dash of luck besides, he would draw Nessa to
him.
With a ration of fortune even more than this, he would make real all of his wildest dreams, and avenge his family without delay.

~

Now, these plans
had
been somewhat delayed, by the absence of the house of Dahro from Dog’s Hill. There was nowhere for them, then, but Mindren; and so Qiello sent his sons to keep watch upon Ulo’s Head, the home of Kaegan’s people, where the houses of Fendon and Silo were also gathered. They learnt quickly of what message had passed through the Endai, a wildfire of the same intensity as that which burnt in the swamp.

It seemed that Nessa was to be passed the Queenship from the very hands of Morachi. But no – she was to be no Queen as they did know the word to mean, no Queen like Belda. She would be what each head had been, from that of Modendo, to that of Morachi himself. She would rule the Endai.

After attaining this piece of information, a heated frenzy came down upon Qiello, and he became desperate to carry out his plan. But he knew that he could not, till the house of Dahro returned to Dog’s Hill. He could only continue to watch, and to wait.

While he was waiting so impatiently, however, there came to pass a marvellous thing. It was perhaps the greatest achievement of his favourite son Niono; and he was so very pleased by it, that he at first could find no words with which to properly praise his son.

The young wolf arrived home one day, with an unfamiliar creature at his side. This creature was one of the Voranu; and the hackles of all the clan were instantly raised. But Niono begged them to be calm, and introduced his guest as a voluntary deserter of his people. He assured them that there came many more in the way of him, who had been persuaded by this self-same deserter to accompany him to a place full of mighty members of the Voranu, who had been greatly wronged by Arol.

Seeing as the clan of Qiello were by no means the first to have been mistreated by the High Prince, the deserter managed to gather to him a very large number of the Voranan people. He ordered them all to come away with him from Curu-ga, while Arol was away from the stronghold, and the high commanders of the army were asleep.

All of this would have been impossible, of course, had the primary deserter not been the very same one who was, but who has not yet been named as, the most eloquent orator, the most dedicated soldier, and the most attentive to his people’s needs, of all the Voranu.

This deserter was eager to build up a singular following of his own, which would obey none but him, and which would do all he put to them in the way of seizing power from Arol. This deserter was greatly resentful of Arol’s inability to value any of his people at all, after the death of Arod (and even before it); and he wished finally for a voice of his own, to be obeyed when cast out over the heads of a great sea of wolves.

This deserter was Xersha, son of Arol. 

~

So the Voranu came to the marsh – and all of its occupants were quite busy with the task of constructing for them makeshift dwellings. For now, there dwelt far more of them there in the swamp, than there dwelt still at Curu-ga.

Qiello was filled, for the first time in long years, with unspeakable joy. He looked around him, and took in the sight of so many of what brothers and sisters he thought had abandoned him; and they looked to him as a leader, a captain who stood beside Xersha their general.

And now, his plan was complete. Every factor was accounted for; and every element was in place. Finally he could do what needed be done, with no more worry as to the possibly deadly repercussions of such an act. Should the chain reaction have ignited, and exploded, as he had hoped, his clan would have been placed in grave danger. This was, of course, a risk he had been willing to take; but now, with the additional protection of the Voranu, his confidence was swelled tremendously.

There was only one thing left to do; and he would do it, now, with no postponement.

~

When Arol arrived back at Curu-ga, and found the place so barren, he ran straightaway into the chamber of his commanders: and found them all fast asleep. He went directly to Gormov; roused him roughly from sleep; and proceeded to tear off one of his ears. This he put into his mouth, and swallowed whole.

While Gormov cowered there before him, holding his paws to the side of his head which spurted blood, Arol flew back down the hall, through the main chamber, and out onto the precarious shelf of rock outside the entrance to the cave. Here he turned his face towards the sun-filled sky, and, regardless of what attention might be attracted to the place by such folly, opened wide his blood-smeared mouth, and howled in a rage he had never known before.