Scarlet From Gold (Book 3) (27 page)

The ship gave a heave, and slowly started to move away from the pier.

“Aw, what’s this?  The mighty warrior crying over his pretty girl?” Mitment stood next to him suddenly.

“I’ll never see her again, Mitment – I’ve had a foretelling,” he said as he wiped a cheek.

“Oh Marco, surely not,” Mitment’s tone was softer.  “Sometimes we just get feelings; surely you’ll see her again in no time,” the spirit was immediately sympathetic.  “You and she are going to do just fine.”

Chapter 18 – Iasco’s Resumption

“Golden Hand, the Lady wishes to see you in her cabin,” one of Iasco’s guards spoke to Marco an hour later, as he stood at the rail and watched the last signs of land disappear upon the horizon.

Marco followed the guard down to the sizable cabin that had been turned over to the small, striped woman.

“Golden Hand, do you have any alchemy items that can induce a trance?” Iasco asked when Marco sat down across from her.

Marco closed his eyes as he mentally inventoried the materials he had packed at his workshop.  “Not the most effective materials, but yes, I can do that,” he answered.

“Good.  I’d like for you to prepare a batch to use after dinner tonight,” Iasco told him.

“What is it to be used for?” Marco asked curiously.

“It’s for you, dear,” the lady gave him a teasing smile.

“What do you mean?” Marco asked.

“I mean that you will take it tonight after dinner, so that you’ll be in a trance tonight.  There are things I foresee in your future, and I want to start to prepare you for them,” she said.

Marco simply stared at her in confusion.

“You have been a fighter, Marco, and an explorer.  Now you need to move on to using new skills – you shall first become an ambassador.  I expect that after you persuade the Lion City and Nappanee to send their troops to the battle at Athens, you will go to the battle as well, and then afterwards I am going to send you south towards Docleatae.  And you will need to be able to speak the language of the people in that part of the world.  There is a way for me to teach you the basics of the language quickly, but I need for you to be in a trance, so that your soul is open to what I will give you,” Iasco explained.

“How far are you sending me?” Marco asked faintly.

“If events occur as I expect, you will go all the way to Moraca’s court in Foulata, Golden Hand.  And in that case, I want you to be prepared to deal with the challenges that will await you,” Iasco said.  “I read the prophecies in a way that makes me think you are bound to travel south, my young champion, and it is very, very important that you be in place when the great events occur.”

“I’ve already gone to the Echidna’s Lair and the underworld,” Marco tried to sound brave, “how hard can it be to go to another court?”

“You have every right to be worried, Golden Hand.  We are fighting a hard war and we hold a weak hand.  You and I are the strongest weapons we have, along with the strength of the Lord interceding on our side through his agents and miracles,” Iasco said gently.  “That is why you have been used so much, and asked to do so much already.  Ophiuchus used you harder than a borrowed mule already!” the priestess-sorceress grinned.

There was a knock at the door.  “Come in,” Iasco offered, and the captain of the ship came in.  “Now, go prepare your potion, and I’ll see you at dinner,” Iasco sent Marco on his way.

Marco wandered out of the cabin and back to the deck, where he gulped in deep breaths of fresh air, as he considered the implications of the outline that Iasco had revealed to him.  It sounded dangerous, and it sounded like something that would truly take many, many months to carry out, months that would be spent away from Mirra.

“What’s the matter?  You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Mitment commented as she came walking over to stand next to him.  “Are you seasick?” she asked.  “You’re awfully pale.

“I’m just thinking,” Marco answered.  “Lady Iasco told me that she plans for me to go a long way, all the way to the court of Moraca.  I just saw Mirra for three days, after most of a year apart, and now we’re going to be separated again.”

Mitment stood in silence for a minute.  “There are many souls in the underworld, Marco,” she said.  “You know; you saw them.

“Not many are there because of war or violence.  Many are, I’ll grant you, but so many more are there because of disease, or old age, or accidents, or drunkenness – many, many more.

“That’s because people like Lady Iasco – and you – do so much to prevent war and evil and disease from spreading and killing.  The pain of separation that you and Mirra suffer provides additional time in the lives of more people than I can count.  Just the way some other hero did something that probably made your life possible,” she said.  “So even though you’ve got the right to feel sorry for yourself, remember that you’re saving lives.

“Boy,” she said after another pause, “I’m glad no one else could hear me saying anything nice to you.  You won’t repeat this, will you?”

Marco turned to her and grinned.

“Just as soon as we get to the isle, I’m going to go to the Guard headquarters and tell everyone how gentle and thoughtful you are!” he laughed.  “Thank you Mitment, you’re right.  Now, I guess I better go fix the potion Lady Iasco asked for,” he said, and he went below to his cabin to work on his project.

That evening he sat at the dinner table with Lady Iasco, her head guard, and the officers of the ship.  He was the only male at the table, and though he had grown used to the oddity of being a male among the followers of Ophiuchus, the women at the table were considerably less at ease.  As soon as seemed polite, he excused himself and went to his cabin to await Iasco’s summons.

Sometime later, as the summer sky grew dim at last, and the sun began to set below the horizon, there was a gentle tap at the door.  “I’ll be up to see the lady in just a minute,” Marco called.

“No you won’t,” came the muffled reply, and then the petite figure of Lady Iasco entered his cabin.

“My lady,” Marco said as he sat up abruptly.

“No, don’t get up.  We’ll have your language lesson here.  Grab your potion and take it, then lie back down in your bunk,” she directed as she entered the small space and shut the door behind herself.

Marco reached out and grabbed the small potion jar, then looked at Iasco, and she came over and sat on the edge of his thin mattress pad.

“Go on.  Let’s get going,” the Lady motioned towards the potion.

“I just take it?” Marco didn’t know what to expect.

“Once you take it, and start to enter the trance, I’ll begin to connect our consciousnesses, so that I can start to teach vocabulary and sentence structure.  It will take all night, every night, for several days.  Get used to sleeping with me Marco, but don’t go bragging about it!”

Marco was speechless; he lifted the jar of potion to his mouth and swallowed the bitter concoction quickly, as Iasco laid down on the mattress.

“Lay back and relax now,” Iasco said in a soothing tone of voice.  Her face was very close to his, and he studied her features in the dim light that the small lantern in the room provided.  The stripes across the bridge of her nose were just as he remembered them – crisply detailed and delicate.

“Stop focusing Marco,” Iasco abruptly said.  “Close your eyes and relax.  Now, give me your hand,” she directed.  “No, the golden one.”

His potion was coming into effect.  He dazedly allowed her to lift his hand to her head, and then he felt her hand touch his temple.   There was a sudden ‘click’ within his head, and he felt as though he was not in control of himself.

“Now listen and remember,” Iasco whispered, her lips pressed against his ear.  “Sob o céu estrelado para o sul, as mulheres são escuros e misteriosos.”

“Did you hear me?” she asked.

“I heard you,” Marco said dreamily.  He felt his mind churning in an unnatural way, as though someone had taken control of it and was stirring his thoughts, inserting and reorganizing.

“Tell me what I said,” she ordered.

“Under the starry skies down south, the women are evil and mysterious,” Marco told her.

“That’s close; I said ‘dark’, not ‘evil’.  We’ll work on that.  Now listen; “O menino, com o Golden lado vai salvar a minha vida.

“Did you understand that?” she asked.  He felt his mind whirling once again.

“You said that the boy with the golden hand was going to save your life,” Marco muttered.

“Yes, very good.  I count on that to be true in the future, by the way,” Iasco told him.

“My lady!” Marco heard a scandalized Mitment speaking, and he turned his head to see the spirit projecting halfway through the door.

“What is it, Golden Hand?” Iasco asked from her position where her view of the door was obstructed, and Marco felt his mind wheeling as the sorceress accessed his mind to see what occurred.

“Ah, Mitment is looking for me, is she?” the lady said.  “Mitment,” she spoke in a stronger voice, raising Marco’s level of awareness, “Mitment, I am here of my own choosing, getting the boy ready for what may come.  I am safe, and we should not be interrupted.”

And so the evening progressed.  Marco may have fallen asleep, or he may have remained in a trance throughout the night, he wasn’t sure.  But he didn’t awaken until the sun was up, there was a knock on the door, and Iasco scrambled over him, pulling her robe on as she opened the door.

“My Lady!” the ship’s steward was speechless with shock at the sight of Iasco emerging from Marco’s cabin.

“I’ll have breakfast in my cabin, please,” Iasco said nonchalantly as she passed the steward.  “The boy may not be ready for breakfast yet,” she added, then closed the door behind her and walked down the corridor.

All that day Marco was subjected to sideways looks from the crew, a clear indication that rumors had run through the ship instantaneously.

“I’m sure you weren’t doing what everyone assumes you were doing last night,” Mitment spoke to Marco in the mid-morning.  “Her ladyship is taking a nap now, by the way.”

“I was getting a language lesson,” Marco explained.  A crew member walking by stiffened as she heard Marco talking to himself.

“I was in a trance, and Lady Iasco was saying the words, and putting them into my head at the same time, somehow,” he explained.

The same cycle was repeated each of the four days they sailed from Barcelon to Ophiuchus.

“On the last day, Iasco asked Marco to prepare another batch of the powder that exposed Mitment.  “I’ll want to show you off to your sisters, dear,” Iasco told the unseen spirit.

“Come along Golden Hand,” Iasco told Marco when the island harbor came into view.  “You deserve to witness the insanity that is going to erupt when I return; you certainly had a role to play in it,” she smiled.

And so there was a huge crowd, one that was eerily silent, as Iasco stood visible on the deck of the ship, with Marco a step behind her.  The energy on the pier was intense, as the women of the island waited to find out if they should scream with joy, or fear, or something else at the return of the dead leader accompanied by the hated male figure of Marco.

Folence stood at the foot of the gang plank as the passengers from the ship disembarked.

Marco watched as Iasco stepped onto the pier; it was her homecoming.  The woman who had been killed by evil was back again, ready to resume control of the Isle, the Temple, and the entire Cult of Ophiuchus – and it seemed, she was ready to assume control of all the forces in the lands of Clovis’s old empire that could be gathered together to fight the battle against the evil of Docleatae.  It was an evil that was coming closer and closer to home, as Marco knew from the Corsair raids and the occupation of Athens.

Folence took a step towards Iasco, and then suddenly went down on her knees in a sign of submission.   Those who stood behind her observed her display, and Marco watched as waves of women fell to their knees in acknowledgement of Iasco’s rightful rule of the cult.

“Stand up,” Marco heard Iasco tell Folence, extending her hands down to pull the taller woman upright.  “Stand up and accept my thanks for the burden you accepted during my absence; you have been a blessing to our cult by providing leadership when it was most needed.”  Iasco’s voice seemed to carry far out into the crowd, Marco observed, as he saw many heads bob while they listened to the voice of their returned leader.

“Thank you, my lady,” Folence said in a voice that extended back over the first few ranks of those who had also risen to their feet.  “It’s a relief to have you back, and to return the mantle of leadership to you.

“As young Marco will attest, it was a heavy burden at times!” she acknowledged Marco’s presence.

“All welcome Lady Iasco,” she said in a raised voice, as she turned to face the crowd.  “All hail our returned leader!”

The pier was inundated with shouts of happiness, joy, and respect, as the women of the village gave voice to their satisfaction and astonishment in seeing the dead leader alive again.

“Thank you, thank you,” Iasco’s voice carried, and it began to settle the crowd, though she waited nearly a full minute before the last of the cheers and the comments died down into silence.

“Thank you for this warm welcome,” Iasco began.  “It feels good – so good – to be back among the women of the Island, back where we all devote our energy to healing and wholeness and health among women.  Our mission has been successful for many years, and it must continue.

“But it must change too.  The world is changing,” Iasco told the crowd, and Marco noticed the ripple of murmurs that the word “change” brought forth.

“The power of Ophiuchus has risen to challenge a great evil that is abroad in the world.  Many of you – I am told – have even seen our own great spirit, standing among you in the flesh.   She has risen to work with the spirits and the saints and the powers to fight against the evil,” Iasco told them.  “That is why I am back from the dead, so that I may be one of her generals.

“And here is the man who was her hands and feet among the dead and the living.  Here is Golden Hand, who many of you have met or seen before,” Iasco pointed at Marco, and motioned him forward.  “He is welcome on this island,” there was no cheer or applause from the crowd for him, Marco noted, “and he is to be treated as the favored of Ophiuchus, as well as of me.