The Woven End Page 25

  She looked at him.

  "I know this sounds crazy,” He continued. “But I can see it in your soul. They did something to it to strengthen it for their purposes. I knew this was coming, but giving you blood… That wasn’t part of the plan, and I don’t understand it.”

  She met his eyes and whispered back, "What? How did you—"

  Story scowled, analyzing Truth's face.

  "Child, are you ready?" The Red Lady's voice called, just outside the room.

  Story gasped. "I've got to go."

  Elder Clarity's voice piped up and grabbed the Lady's attention.

  Truth nodded, knowingly. "Listen to me, Story, it wasn't from an animal, it was from a human. It's altered your soul. It’s given you the ability to do very dark things that you wouldn’t normally be able to do. It concerns me, because there—“

  “Child!” the Red lady called again.

  "I'm coming." Quietly, "I don't know what you're talking about, Truth."

  She put her boots and outside clothes on in haste and grasped the curtain.

  Truth's words shot out from his mouth like a quiet explosion, "There is a power beyond what you know. If it seems there is no smiling in the world, don’t believe it. It’s just covered with shadows. The Great Soul remembers you.”

  Story pressed her lips into a flat line. She turned to examine Truth's wild face. She shook her head and stepped into the open.

  "What were you discussing so quietly and urgently, Elder Truth?" The Red Lady asked coolly.

  "Nothing that you need to worry about, and everything you already know about, woman." He tramped away.

  Clarity hurried after him, stumbling over his feet. Truth, suddenly aware of his devotee, stopped to help his friend, and they left together.

  The Red Lady laughed under her breath as she glanced back at her companions, the ever hooded figures whose faces and voices never emerged. They made Story's stomach turn.

  "Well, now, let us be going. Take her bag."

  "I'd rather carry it myself. It—it's not sewn together," Story said, clinging to her bag.

  It was embarrassing.

  The Red Lady's eyes widened with a twinge of disgust on her face.

  "First lesson, child, is that you must allow men to help you when it is sensible to do so. The second lesson is: laziness is unacceptable, and as soon as we reach the camp you will sew this together. He can manage your unsewn luggage.”

  One of the men took the bag, and the Red Lady led them away.

  "Have you spoken with your parents?"

  "I'm afraid I don't know where they are. I'd like to—"

  "We don't have time if you haven't done it already. If we are going to return before night, we must go now.”

  Story scanned the area as they walked. Where were Softly and West? They left that morning to hunt, and she had not yet seen them. The Red Lady's resolute face and set jaw indicated no mercy in this matter. Her eyes, wolfish and focused, looked straight ahead. Story wanted to plead for the right to find her dads, but the matter was settled, and there was no use in trying again.

  They left without a send-off or so much as an announcement of departure. The distinct chill of the outdoors struck Story's face as they drew near. The door opened. A terrible wind blew as they stepped out into the dark gray and white world.

  Their bears waited for them in the shed. The man who held her bag held it underneath him as he leaned down to grasp his bear's neck. Story mounted the Red Lady's bear and held on tightly, laying her head on the Lady's back. The other man mounted his bear and set off ahead of them. With a twitch of the Red Lady's feet, her bear plowed forward with a bear's typical wobbly grace and quickly reached a rapid, steady pace. Only wind and snow passed by Story's sight, nothing but whipping wind and blur. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath that choked her with the cold of it.

  Human blood. Why would Bear do that? Where were West and Softly? What did Elder Truth have to say about them? What did she need to know? Was Elder Truth right?

  Oh, Elder Truth. She liked him, and she spat in his face. That was regrettable. She hoped she'd live through the star to apologize—even if he was crazy.

  Without warning, she fell asleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Story woke up in a dirty white room. The walls were broken, exposing bits of the building's skeleton. Her unsewn sleeping bag lay over her. A lamp hung from the ceiling, and a small fire crackled in a metal basin in the charred, stone wall corner.

  She sat up. Her body ached. What a dreadful bed. It was short, high, hard, and mutilated with age. Firm yellow fluff peeked through its holes.

  She noticed a knife, a bone needle, and a long piece of hide on a table attached to the wall in front of her.

  She longed to step outside the door and become accustomed with her new surroundings, but she knew, somehow, that the Red Lady would be looking in on her memory and obedience. Her fingers felt extra cold and stiff as she tried to sew the bag, but she finished the job and tied the strip tightly at the top, leaving the few inches of remaining hide. Perhaps she would need to unsew it or tighten it up someday. She set the knife down and laid her bag on the ground. She would never sleep on that high bed again.

  Now, to get accustomed to her new home.

  She grasped the door knob and turned it. The door creaked open, and she stepped into a cold, gray hallway, lit by a few flickering lamps. Doors lined both sides of the hallway. Considering the age of this building, the wood floor looked new. Someone must be keeping it in good repair. She stepped into the hallway and listened for signs of life. She heard nothing except the screaming wind outside. What a chilling sound she would have to face every day.

  Drafts. A new draft with every step she took. One in the face, one at her feet.

  Footsteps.

  She turned around. The steps came around the corner from another hallway.

  A man stopped, surprised.

  "What are you doing out of your room?" He asked, all but his shape hidden in darkness.

  "I…I'm new here."

  "Frosts! They don’t tell the guardians anything! Are you the only new one the Red Lady brought?"

  "Yes. Yes, just me. I woke up and I was… confused and… wondering where I was."

  The man came closer. She saw his face in lamp light now. He wasn't very much older than her. He spoke in a low tone, not quite a whisper.

  "I'm a guardian. I am one of the men here under the charge of the Father. We are here to protect you and your sisters. That's what I'm doing right now. It is my responsibility to patrol the bridal ward this evening."

  "I know what you are. I will go back to my room then. When am I to come out?"

  "You will know. Your Illess, the highest of the bridal ward, has a voice that would wake you from death."

  "Oh. Okay," She laughed a shaky little laugh.

  "Is there anything that you need?"

  "Food," she said. She had no supper before she left to join the Ilians. Her stomach burned with hunger.

  He bit his lip. "Right. I'm afraid I can't do that for you. If you want an extra blanket, your first ration of oil or wood…? That's what I can do."

  "Oh." She shook her head. "No, then. When will I learn about the Ilian order?"

  "When morning comes. Someone will give you orientation. Don't fret. You won't be lost in the chaos of order." He smiled. "Sleep well."

  Story nodded her head and gave a wan smile as she turned back to her door. She entered the room and closed the door behind her. She hated this place. It was cold—so cold. She slid her back down the door and sat with her forehead on her knees. She'd have to wear her furs all day and night to survive. Dreadful. She'd smell like an old man.

  Oh, home. Home. She missed Softly.She stood up and embraced the fire's warmth. Her face tingled and her nose dripped as she thawed herself out.

  What in cold, frosted blazes was she thinking? West and Softly would never want her here if they'd seen it themselves.

  There's no
sense in pouting. You're here. You can do this. Be stronger than the cold.

  She grabbed up her sleeping bag, sat down, and pulled it over her legs and body as she leaned against the wall. It took time, but she fell into a cold, hard sleep.

  #

  "Staaaaaaaaaar riiiiiiiiiiise!"

  Story awoke, still tired. Her head ached and her nose was cold. She pulled the sleeping bag off her stiff body and stood up.

  "Staaaaaaaaaar Riiiiiiiiiise!" The Illess shouted once more.

  The hallway filled with sounds, but no voice besides that of the Illess. A knock at her door startled her to action. She opened it and peered out. The Illess, dressed in thick, unknown, vibrantly colored fabrics, stood expressionless.

  "Up and out, new girl," she said. She turned with a flourish to tend to her other duties.

  Story stepped out and closed her door. Everyone stared at her. She didn't seem different than anyone else except for her furry, plain clothes, but the girls seemed to think something about her. Perhaps it was because she was new.

  The Red Lady appeared at the right end of the hallway.

  "To your scheduled activites," the Lady ordered. "Story, you come with me."

  Story followed the Lady down the hall and to the left. The Red Lady's clothes fluttered behind her as she trotted down the stairs in her maturely prim manner. On floor level she led Story around a sharp corner and into a very hot room. Story had never experienced heat like this, even in the complex.

  "Bathe yourself. New clothes will be laid out for you. I will return shortly."

  The room contained only a screen, a table, and the large, hot pool of water. To the right was an enormous fireplace, ablaze with a strange looking red fire. It seemed like it had once been wrapped in a clear paper, but the paper was flopping about as if in the aftermath of an explosion.

  She gasped. This would be wonderful! She stripped herself down and dipped her toe in the water. It was so warm. She slid in.

  She looked around her and spotted lye at the water's edge. She snatched it up and washed. Someone entered the room. A shuffle of feet, the sound of fabric moving, and then, "Your clothes are out here," called a man's voice.

  He left.

  Reluctantly, Story crawled out of the pool and dried off with a strange fabric that was left on the screen for her. She stepped out and quickly grabbed her clothes and scurried behind the screen.

  She put on the first layer of fishnet. She was familiar with these as she wore these under her clothes for warmth when she worked above ground. She put on her second layer of pants, thick socks, and and a coarse dress. Over these layers, she pulled on the long, full, cream dress with bell sleeves like the lip of a pitcher. Its soft, heavy fabric felt stiff on her body. Then she put on the cloak of vivid green with a fur trimmed hood. White wolf? She tied it under her chin. A pair of knee-high, hide boots and mittens remained. She pulled them on.

  The door opened.

  "Story, are you finished?" The Red Lady asked.

  "Yes, Lady."

  "Here, my pupils call me Hadate.”

  "Yes, Hadate."

  "You look pleased," she said.

  "Yes, I am. What am I wearing?"

  "Wool. Well preserved. We haven't had sheep on our islands for several hundred years. We Ilians take good care of our things. Age, death and decay are optional here. We can overcome it by our means no matter what nature says. That's your first lesson, and it is the basis of our faith. You don't have to believe nature."

  The Red Lady turned to the door. "We do not have to pay for nature's mistakes. It might wish to live courageously and cause others to suffer for its youthful foolishness, but we will not abide it."

  #

  Writhing, wiggling, and screaming. The end suffocated, starving for its own brand of air. Love, just love—that's all that must be achieved, and yet it could not accomplish it in decent time.

  It peered out through the yellow haze. Ah, it saw the array of colors, lights, and lines, but could not reach them, and yet reached it every day. Oh, the torment! For so long it saw nothing, for so long it was alone and now—in one fell swoop—it would have revenge and glory at once.

  Gasp. Gasp.

  The end would end, and no one who expected it, expected what it really was.

  Gasp. Laughter. Nature tightened its fist around the end.

  Laughter. "You are too human."

  Gasp.

  "Get out while you still can. The emotions…"

  Gasp.

  “…Are getting the better of you, old friend. You're not as tough as you…"

  Gasp.

  "…Think you want to be."

  #

  Hadate's quarters contained little more than a desk and a large white mat. The white mat bed was a luxury, but the room seemed, in every way, suitable for its inhabitant. Cold and severe, the Red Lady didn't feel the chill around her, and what was there above ground that was not severe?

  "…The Illess will wake you every morning. Illesses are subject to change. To displace the incumbent Illess and become Illess yourself, you must be exemplary in your behavior, studies, and appearance. There is no scoring system, therefore the judgment of ‘exemplary’ will be made by myself. Whoever is Illess at the time of Nat's ascension will be she who we present as a companion for him.

  "You receive breakfast after your first scheduled activity. We are strict about our rations here. There is no night time snacking, and anyone who cannot abide by this rule will suffer dire consequences."

  Hadate stood in front of Story as she rattled off the list of rules and the order that one ought to know when joining the Ilians. She clearly wanted to be through with it and on to better thing.

  "The goal for you and all of the women here is to become the perfect bride for Nat. Contrary to what is boasted in the complexes, this is a competition. Do not expect the girls to be friendly to you.

  "As for the Father and the Guardians, they play a vital role in the present and an even greater role in the future. The Father is a great man who is strict and hard on his men. He is also your superior. What he says, you will obey as you obey me. His men are protectors. They patrol our building day and night. Our girls are to remain virgins, that is to say, there can be no intimate contact with the Guardians. The Guardians know this. This includes any physical contact that manipulates the emotions and has potential to stir up affection. You are to preserve yourself for Nat, or suffer dire consequences. You have no—You have a question?"

  Had her face said something?

  "Well, yes. My dads told me that women weren't dealt with harshly. They were allowed to go home if necessary. You’ve said ‘dire consequences’ twice now."

  "We will only send a girl back to her complex if, after correction, she fails to alter her undesirable behavior—this disturbs you?"

  "It's not what I expected."

  Hadate smiled. "As I was saying, you have no reason to fear the Guardians. Punishment for them is often very severe in order to discourage bad behavior. Bad behavior is never hidden for long.

  "It is time for you to walk about and get acquainted with the place. Everything is announced here. It will be no mystery what you should do and when. Today is a day without schedule for you, except that I will send for you later to prepare for your intitiation." Hadate sat down behind her desk and plucked up a pen, dipped it into a small pot of black ink, and proceeded to write on a parchment.

  "Tomorrow you will join the others. You may go. Thank you." She rolled up the parchment and closed it with a strap of leather from one of her drawers.

  "Oh—Yes. You're…you're welcome."

  Hadate smiled. Story walked out and closed the door behind her.

  Story was alone.

  “So very, very alone,” she whispered to herself.

  She did not take a tour as Hadate suggested. She went to her room and waited there for someone to tell her what to do.

  She laid back on the bed and closed her eyes. How proud West and Softly must be at this m
oment.

  She opened her eyes. That thought alone was worth this. They had been so kind to her.

  Twenty-Nine

  "The white man appeared to Il and laid the foundation of our faith," the Illess began. "Il wrote the words down and we base our lives upon it to this day. It is to this scroll we devote all of our reputations, hopes, lives, and pleasures. Outside of its words we find nothing. I will read the words concerning the how and why of initiation from Il's Pages.”

  She read, "I and a companion happed upon a strange orifice in the forest floor. It was rumored that a white monster resided in the woods, unlike any human or beast known to us…"

  Story knew this tale, West and Softly had told it to her.Yes, yes… He was afraid, then he fasted and hid, and then he returned to the woods where the white monster appeared and gave him these words—but she dare not interrupt to say so.

  Through the window behind the Illess, the gray sky turned to coal. Story’s initiation would be in darkness. She tried to imagine what the initiation could be.

  "…The order of Ilians must be divided into two branches: the Guardians and the Brides. Only one will be chosen as Nat's bride, but all Guardians will be entrusted with the preservation of the potential brides' purity. When Nat ascends, they will become his army. Each Guardian must go through initiation to prove his mettle. This is to be decided by the head of the Guardians: the Father.

  "The brides vie for the honor of being presented to Nat for his companion. It is vital for the salvation of the world that he love. The mixture is not complete without love.The savior is not a savior without a bride.

  "Each bride must also go through an initiation. I, Il, have determined that this initiation must be one thing: She must spend the night near Nat's presence, under the watch of a Guardian, for her safety. She must not leave the bottom of the stairs, nor fall asleep, but prove herself a worthy and faithful bride who will endure darkness, fear, chill, and lethargy for love of the savior."

  The Illess looked up from the pages. "That is it."

  "I must spend the night near Nat's cellar?"

  "The third step up is the way it is done," she said as she slipped the pages back into their chest and closed the lid. She looked out the window. "It's time to begin. Come along."