Darkblade avenger, p.115
Darkblade Avenger, page 115
part #1 of Hero of Darkness Series
Bloodshot eyes peered from the mass of rags as Servitor Indria placed a gentle hand on the penitent's shoulder.
"F-forgive me, Servitor." The man sniffled and wiped his nose with a filthy sleeve.
Indria slid in beside him despite the reek of alcohol and soiled clothing. "What brings you to the Lonely Goddess, friend? What ails you?"
"My Aislinn, she…" He swallowed hard and gripped the pew back so hard the wood creaked. "The pox. Took her, last week."
Indria wrapped a consoling arm around the bearded man, pulling him close. His tears soaked her soft blue Servitor robes, but she held him tight as sobs shook his shoulders.
She spoke in a soothing voice. "The Lonely Goddess feels your pain, my friend. She, too, weeps for her lost love." Her free hand reached for the locket hanging at her neck, and her throat grew tight. "Let her ease your suffering."
Indria closed her eyes. She could almost taste the sorrow he radiated, and she allowed her soul to be drawn toward him. She touched the part of him that ached for his wife, the void left by her passing. With a deep breath, she pulled it into herself. Like a fever that burned hot and cold at once, a dull throbbing that spread through every muscle, she drew it from the suffering man and took the pain into herself, made it part of her being. The gift of the Lonely Goddess.
The man's shoulders stopped shaking, he breathed easy. His eyes widened. "W-What did you do?"
Indria gave him a strained smile. "The Lonely Goddess has heard your prayers, friend, and relieved the burden of your sorrow."
He pressed a hand against his chest. "The ache…it's gone!"
"The Goddess smiles upon you this day. Let her bear your suffering, and may your life be filled with the joy of love once more."
The man clasped her hand. "Thank you, Servitor!" His shoulders straightened.
"You owe me no gratitude, friend." Indria motioned to the altar to the Lonely Goddess, a simple stone table set in a shadowed alcove. "Give her your thanks."
The man dropped a coin into the brass offering plate, kissed the Lonely Goddess’ marble hand, and rushed out the door.
Indria released the breath she'd held and clenched her teeth against the burning ache in her muscles. It wouldn't do to show worshippers her weakness. The Lonely Goddess had given her this gift to be used--she would bear the burden as long as she must.
Servitor Ryanna slipped onto the pew beside her. "It's bad again, isn't it?"
Indria nodded and closed her eyes. One breath at a time, the only way to get past the pain.
Worry furrowed the brow of the girl barely old enough to take her Servitor’s oath. "Let me help you to your chambers."
She wanted to argue, to insist others needed her help, but she hadn't the strength. Too many had come to the temple today, seeking comfort from the Goddess of the Orphaned and Brokenhearted. She'd taken on too much. The icy burn of her muscles almost drowned out the twisting in her stomach, but her vision had already begun to blur. She couldn't bring herself to eat, though she needed the strength.
She allowed Ryanna to pull her to her feet and leaned on her fellow Servitor for support. Her trembling legs protested every step down the long, chilly corridor toward her room. A muscle spasm would've made her collapse if not for Ryanna's strong arms. Just a few more steps.
Ryanna swung the door to her cell open, and Indria shuffled inside on numb feet. The cold heat spread through her arms to her fingertips as she fumbled at the clasps of her robe. Ryanna knew better than to offer assistance. Instead, the young Servitor lowered her onto the edge of the bathing tub and slipped in silence out the door.
The clasps refused to budge, so Indria slid into the tub fully clothed. She gasped at the sudden chill, but the water sapped the heat from her muscles. With every breath, the pain slowly receded. Sensation returned to her hands and feet.
She closed her eyes and listened to the drip, drip, drip of the water trickling from the walls. To all others, the House of Tears wept poison. To her, the weeping stones brought the only relief from her pain.
No, not her pain, but the pain she took from others. The Lonely Goddess’ gift felt like a curse some days--days like today. Though the water washed away the suffering of those she had touched, her own pain remained.
Her fingers played over the contours of the locket Eriall had given her on their wedding day. A lifetime ago. He'd promised her the world, as any prosperous young merchant man would. The locket was his last gift to her.
The downfall of the Bloody Hand had been cruel to all of Voramis. For three days, the Heresiarchs had battled to quell the riots and looting. Two days too many for her Eriall. Her heart had shattered as she watched his broken, battered body thrown into the pauper's grave with the rest of the casualties. She'd come to the temple fully intending to drink the Goddess’ tears and put an end to it all.
She couldn't do that now. She stroked the swell of her belly. The Servitors had stopped her, cared for her, brought her into the House of Tears. They'd told her the good news. It had only broken her heart further. No husband, no money, no one to care for the child.
She'd discovered the gift that night. Sitting in the temple, screaming a silent prayer to the Goddess, she had been joined by an elderly woman. One glance in the woman's eyes had revealed the depths of her pain--a pain Indria found herself wishing she could take away. A chilling burn had flooded every fiber of her being, like a thousand cold iron knives. But when she stared into the old woman's eyes, she saw the pain had gone. She had taken the woman's suffering.
How many days since then? How much pain had the Lonely Goddess eased through her? Too many. More than once, she'd wished the pain away. But wishing had done her no more good than her prayers to the Apprentice to bring Eriall safely home.
For the sake of her unborn infant, she would keep on. Ryanna and the other Servitors only had words of comfort to offer the woe-stricken souls who came to the House of Tears. Indria alone bore the Goddess’ gift, and the Mother Servitor had proposed a bargain: they would raise her child alongside the Beggared from the neighboring House of Need. In exchange, she would offer easement to those she could.
To see her child cared for, she would take on the burden of a thousand suffering souls.
A tap sounded at her door.
She spoke without raising her head or opening her eyes. "Come."
Sandaled feet shuffled on the floor, and a platter clanked on a nearby table. "Dinner," Ryanna spoke in a soft voice.
"Thank you." Perhaps she could bring herself to eat later.
"I'll be back in the morning. Rest." The door closed behind Ryanna with a click.
Rest. Indria doubted she would sleep, but she had to close her eyes. Soon, she prayed. Though the muscle spasms had calmed and sensation returned to her limbs, the pain hadn't faded.
No matter how much she took from others, her own pain would never fade.
* * *
Indria sighed and forced herself upright. Despite her exhaustion, she'd slept no more than an hour. The merciless thrumming in her muscles kept rest at bay.
At least the burning ache had dimmed. Enough for her to pull her dress, still damp from her bath, over her head. A few wrinkles wouldn't bother the mourners seeking solace in the House of Tears.
Ryanna entered with a covered plate. Indria smiled at the scent of fresh-baked rosemary orange bread--her favorite. How she found time among the myriad duties of a Servitor, Indria would never know. Just as Ryanna would never truly understand how much Indria appreciated these small gestures.
The look in Ryanna's eyes wiped away Indria's cheer.
"That many?"
Ryanna nodded. "At least a dozen." Her brow furrowed. "It's too many."
Hiding her dismay, Indria shook her head. "The Lonely Goddess will bring the comfort they seek. We are simply her messengers." She ran a hand over her belly; the swell had just begun to show.
Ryanna looked unconvinced. "As you say, Servitor." With a shallow bow, she slipped from the room.
Indria picked at the bread. She could manage only a few bites before her stomach protested. Her weakness from the previous night had faded, but it would return by the end of the day. Exhaustion, fatigue, numbness, blurred vision, the chilling heat--the Lonely Goddess demanded a high price for her mercy.
But Indria would pay the price if it spared others the pain that filled her heart. The Goddess’ gift would not take away her suffering.
She pushed aside the plate after a few bites and hobbled down the corridor toward the House of Tears’ main room. True to Ryanna's word, a motley collection of men and women filled the wooden pews lining the chamber. Her eyes fell upon one: a woman, young like Ryanna, with a pale face, slumped shoulders, and red-rimmed eyes.
She slid into the pew beside the woman and placed a hand on her arm. "The Lonely Goddess would hear of your pain, friend."
* * *
Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she would not cry out as Ryanna helped her slide into the tub. Only once the young Servitor fled the room did Indria allow the moans to escape. Every breath brought a fresh wave of pain. Cold and stabbing like knives of ice, hot and piercing like glowing irons. The pain drowned out all but the animal desire to scream and howl until unconsciousness released her from the burden of the Goddess’ gift.
The cool water of the bath slowly dimmed the fire until she could breathe without crying out. The trembling of her hands and legs lessened, but the right side of her head pulsed so hard her vision blurred. She clamped her eyes shut and whispered desperate prayers for her child to survive.
"Hear my pain, Lonely Goddess, and give me the grace to bear it."
* * *
Indria opened the door to her cell, and stopped at sight of Ryanna sitting on the stone floor. The young girl jumped up and dragged a sleeve across puffy eyes. "I'm sorry, Servitor. I shouldn't have…"
"What is it?"
Ryanna didn't meet her gaze. "I-I…"
Indria rested a hand on the young girl's cheeks. "Tell me, Ryanna."
Ryanna's dark eyes flashed as she looked at Indria. "There's too many of them!"
Indria's stomach twisted, but she kept her expression calm. "How many?"
"Two score. Maybe more."
A burden settled on Indria's shoulders, and her right eye twitched as the pounding in her head returned. Worry flashed through her. Could she withstand the suffering? Could her baby?
She took a deep breath, stood straight. "The Goddess knows what she is doing, Ryanna." She tilted Ryanna's face up. "She will give us the grace to bear her burden." Surely the Goddess would protect those sworn to her service.
Ryanna looked ready to argue, but Indria squeezed her shoulder. "Come, Servitor. Let us bring the Goddess’ mercy to the deserving."
* * *
Water splashed as Indria jerked upright. "Where…?"
The familiar bare stone of her room greeted her, and her ragged breaths echoed the drip, drip, dripping of the leaking walls.
Ryanna bent over her, brows furrowed, eyes dark as storms. "It happened again."
Indria tried to speak, but a fog filled her mind and stole the words from her lips. She leaned back and let the cool water melt away the fire coursing through every fiber.
"It was bad." Ryanna spoke in a quiet voice filled with concern. "You sat there, moaning, staring at nothing we could see. I tried to help you, but you only screamed. Mother Servitor said to leave you alone. But I couldn't leave you." She dropped her eyes. "I know the bath brings you relief…"
"Th…ank you, R…yanna." Indria's tongue felt thick, her thoughts sluggish.
"They're pushing you too hard." Ryanna's words came out tight, clipped. "Mother Servitor--"
"It's not the Mother, Ryanna." Indria's voice sounded so small, faint to her ears.
Ryanna snorted. "Of course it is! They know of your ability, and they seek to use it."
"To bring comfort to the suffering. It is a noble purpose, Ryanna. And one I take upon myself. The Lonely Goddess has given me this gift. I must use it in her service."
"She is a cruel Goddess, then!" Ryanna's face twisted. "How can she ask you to suffer so?"
"I bear the pain so others do not have to." Indria grimaced at a fresh wave of fire. "You are young, Ryanna. You have never known the pain of a broken heart." She gripped the girl's hand. "And I pray to the Goddess you never will."
Ryanna shook her head. "But think of your child. The pain you bear, surely it affects him as well."
Indria rested a trembling hand on her belly. "I am ever thinking of my child. I bear this pain for him. The Lonely Goddess will bless him, and Mother Servitor will ensure he has a home among the Beggar Priests for as long as I serve the Goddess. Even if I must suffer for the rest of my days, I will do so for his sake."
"So be it." Ryanna's hand slipped from hers as the girl stood. "Rest. I will bring you food in a few minutes."
Indria nodded, sending a spike of pain through her head. The world spun, and she squeezed her eyes tight, taking deep breaths to hold back the waves of nausea. She barely registered the click of her door closing as Ryanna left.
Indria laid back in the tub and tried to push Ryanna's words from her mind. The Goddess had given her a gift, true, but a cruel one. She eased the suffering of others only to add to her own. When she took their heartache upon herself, it only served to remind her of what she had lost.
She floated in a haze, visions of Eriall flashing through her head. Their chance meeting in the marketplace. His gallant rescue from the drunken crowds of the Festival of Plenty. Their first kiss, stolen in the alley behind her father's chandlery. The droning voice of the priest of the Apprentice as they swore their marriage oaths before the gods of Voramis. Happiness.
Shattered, in a moment. Stolen with the coins and goods looted from his shelves. Buried beneath a mountain of dirt and broken bodies. Drowned out by the pain of the Lonely Goddess’ favor.
Everything whirled around her, and Indria clutched the sides of the tub to keep herself from slipping under the water's surface. Darkness seeped into her consciousness, the chill burn in her muscles fading as fingers of fog numbed her thoughts.
She didn't open her eyes as her cell door creaked, but Ryanna's cry of alarm penetrated the haze in her mind. Fatigue sapped the strength from her muscles. She could only open her eyes and stare at Ryanna's aghast expression.
"Wh-What…?" she croaked.
Ryanna turned and rushed from the room, calling for the Mother Servitor.
Indria tried to raise her head to see what was causing Ryanna's consternation, but she couldn't summon the energy. The fog retreated, and in its place came the pain. The same stabbing and slicing heat that plagued her every day, but with a familiar pain layered atop it. An uncontrollable clenching of her womb, the twisting, tightening torment that plagued women with every turn of the moon.
Ryanna fell to her knees and clutched Indria's hand. "Hold on, Indria. A physicker is on the way."
Indria couldn't summon the strength to say anything. She could only cling to Ryanna's hand and pray to the Lonely Goddess to have mercy on her child.
* * *
For once, the pain in Indria's muscles couldn't compare with the torment of her shattered heart. It was more than she could bear.
The physicker had tried everything to stop the bleeding, but all their healing arts had failed her child. She'd refused to leave her tub the last two days, ignored Ryanna's pleas to eat. She had only the burning chill and the memories of her husband for company.
But now she had no choice. Not even the Goddess’ tears soothed the icy ache thrumming through her muscles. It had come on so strong she'd been unable to do more than curl in a ball and shriek into her darkened cell. She hurled curses at the Goddess that had given her a gift and, in return, shredded her happiness to pieces.
Her torment diminished, Indria had struggled to her feet, fumbled for her cloak, and made her trembling way from the temple. She'd left well after midnight. Ryanna and the others would be asleep. No doubt the young Servitor would offer her company and support, but Indria had to do this alone. Though the other Servitors sympathized with her and offered her aid, they would never understand her burden.
A chill wind swept through Lower Voramis as Indria stumbled down the moonlit alley toward the familiar wooden door at the end. It creaked as she pushed it open, her entrance set the candlelight dancing.
A woman sat at a table, chin resting on her ample chest. She jolted awake as the door banged against the wall. "Wha--?" She squinted, eyes bleary from sleep, and fumbled for a pair of wire-framed spectacles. "Indria?"
"Hello, Mammy Graye."
"Heard you was serving in the House of Tears." The salt-and-pepper-haired woman stood, eyes wide. "Never thought I'd see you back here. Not after what happened to Eriall…"
Indria's eyes fell, and she swallowed.
"What brings you, dearie? Surely you can't be here for another fertility draught."
Indria shook her head. "Something for pain."
"Toothache? Wound gone rotten?"
"Everything." Indria met Mammy's gaze. "From my head to my toe, everything hurts."
Mammy Graye stroked the hairs on her chin. "The aches, is it?"
"No." Indria flexed her fingers. "Not in the bones. It's like my muscles are on fire and freezing cold at once. The pain, it stabs and burns, throbs and stings all together."
Mammy Graye narrowed her eyes. "Never heard of nothing like that, girl." She leaned closer and studied Indria, as if searching for a sign of insanity. Many of the Illusionist Clerics suffered from such maladies, the result of the Illusionist's touch on their mind. But Indria met her gaze without wavering.
"I've come to you because I trust you, Mammy." Indria covered Mammy's chubby hand with her own. "Now, can you give me something or not?" She held out the copper bits she'd pilfered from the Goddess’ offering plate.
"That won't go too far. None of that fancy opium like the uppity folks take for their pains." The coins disappeared beneath the counter. "Now, how much of 'something' you looking for?"
