13 January 2008
Chapter 7: Moonlight
“You might as well stop running, my dear,” the raspy voice called out from the forest’s thick shadows. Even though the moon was full, precious little of its light penetrated the thick clusters of oaks; their rounded, deep red leaves caught only occasional glints of light as they rustled in the mid-autumn breeze. “You can run all you like, but I guarantee you will never escape me.”
“Running’s not the talent of mine you should be worried about,” Lucia challenged, then swallowed hard, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Luckily, tonight she hadn’t worn a tight corset, and could hike up her simple, red dress in her hands, making it possible for her to run. Some of the outfits in her wardrobe would have constricted her to the point that she would have been nothing more than a prettily wrapped present for her pursuer.
Lucia glanced around the clearing to see if there were any signs of a path, but she didn’t recognize any except the one she’d created in her hasty passage. She had run so fast and so erratically to try and shake her pursuer that she had gotten turned around. If she took off running again, she might just end up deeper and deeper in the wood.
“Oh, I’m well aware of your talents,” the voice assured her, this time from the opposite edge of the clearing. “I’ve seen the things you can do, the great power that you wield. Breathtaking, to be sure. But I also know the one thing against which you’re completely powerl–”
Before he could finish his thought, Lucia darted back between the trees, back the way she had come, thinking she might be able make it back to a larger clearing. In the open, Lucia had been holding her own, but now she was in the middle of the deep forest—his turf—and at a severe disadvantage. The worst part was that she couldn’t see him, if he got close enough to pounce on her, she wouldn’t the slightest warning. How was it that he could still move so impossibly fast, while she was struggling to keep going at all?
And how could he even see two feet in front of his face in this darkness? As she worked her way through the black branches, some completely stripped of leaves, Lucia had to hold her arm out in front of her and slow her pace. If she charged headfirst into some sharp sticks, she could lose an eye for her trouble. In addition, her dress frequently snagged on the sharp ends of the branches as she forced her way through the denser patches. With some effort, she thrashed through some brittle, dead blackberry vines and came out in another clearing, glad that she’d worn a dress with long sleeves, at least, and spared her arms from countless scratches.
“It’s touching, it really is,” came the voice again, closer than before, its owner still out of sight. “Watching you blunder your way around, attracting attention to yourself, like a lost doe calling out for a hunter’s arrow.”
Lucia turned to orient herself on the voice, and backed up against a thick, blackened stump, her arms raised defensively. With dismay, she realized she’d somehow ended up in the same clearing as before. Or at least it looked like the same one. Damn it all to hell.
“Why don’t you just come out and face me, coward?” the girl asked, her eyes flashing with anger, now. “Skulking around in the shadows, hoping for me to tire and make a mistake… hardly an honorable way to do things.”
“If there were a word less suitable to describe those who seek to end your life,” the voice replied, matter-of-factly, “I have no idea what it would be.”
The forest behind Lucia exploded in a flurry of leaves, twigs and branches as a dark figure burst forth and leapt at her. His weight caught her left side and spun her to the ground roughly. The two tumbled across the forest floor, Lucia clawing and pushing at him desperately, to free herself from his grip. The shadowy man held firm, though, with an unearthly strength. Before long, Lucia ceased her struggling and lay still, trying to calm her racing heart and think of what to do.
“Does this mean,” she asked quietly, in between deep breaths, “that I’m dead?” Lucia watched as her attacker pulled back his black cowl, partially revealing his face to her. She gazed into his eyes, and saw her answer.
He leaned in close, and covered her mouth with his own, kissing her hungrily. The kiss was passionate and urgent, fueled by his adrenaline that had built up during their chase. Lucia returned his passion, allowing the kiss to continue for almost a minute, just until she felt his grip loosening…
Lucia shifted her weight and pushed him off of her, rolling backwards away from him. She ended up in a crouch, her hands up, her fingers curled into strange positions.
“Now who’s dead?” Lucia asked.
The clearing erupted in an brilliant, lavender flame, banishing every shadow. The flames did not scorch the grass or the trees; but they incinerated the black robe and cowl her assailant wore. Soon, the attacker was revealed as a handsome, black-haired young man with olive skin, laying on the ground in the nude.
“Lucia!” Costin shouted angrily, curling into a ball to hide his nakedness and looking around the still “burning” clearing for any scrap of his garb that had survived. None had, though the knife that he carried had been spared, and now sat on the forest floor. “What shall I wear now? How will I explain this if someone sees us?”
“As if you would allow anyone to see you if you wished to be hidden,” Lucia said dismissively as the lavender flames continued to dance around the clearing. She grinned innocently at her love. “Are you not the most skilled skulker? Are you telling me you doubt your skills, now?”
Costin leapt at Lucia again, though tackling her in a much less aggressive manner this time. She laughed out loud at his impetuousness, and squirmed under the weight of his naked body, feigning embarrassment.
“Costin, please,” Lucia admonished him, unable to hide her smile, “it is most inappropriate for a lady to be under a naked man in the woods.” She kissed him briefly on the nose, before noticing that he was not smiling. Costin made some gestures of his own and muttered some ancient words, and the lavender flames’ color shifted to a bluish white, then abruptly extinguished themselves.
“For goodness’ sake, Costin,” Lucia said, embracing him with the tone of a consoling mother to a petulant child. “You slipped out of your camp unseen, you trailed me all the way from the Great Circle without the slightest effort, certainly you can do the same on your way back? They’re just clothes. I’ll bring you wonderful some new fabrics from the castle, tomorrow.”
“And how would I explain your fine silks and delicate weaves to my parents?” Costin demanded. “That I found them? stole them? Damn the clothes.” Costin’s face was still stern. “That’s not what I’m upset about, and you know it. Lucia.”
“I did as you’ve taught me,” Lucia protested, “I pretended to be conquered and I turned the tables on y—”
“I doubt that when the Strigoi have chased you down and pinned you that they will be interested in a kiss,” Costin shot back, rolling off of her, grabbing and tearing a wide panel of fabric from the hem of her dress as he did. With the many rips and holes that had been inflicted on it in the past few hours, it was an easy feat. Lucia started to protest until she saw that Costin was wrapping the fabric around his midsection to fashion a crude loincloth. Fair enough. She already planned to dispose of this dress when she arrived back at the castle, anyway; she had more than enough in her wardrobe, and hiding it was easier than explaining.
“If I were a Strigoi,” Costin continued, “or one of their hideous underlings, you would surely be dead at this moment.”
“Then it’s a good thing,” Lucia retorted sharply as she tried to even out the ragged hem of her dress, “that unlike you, I don’t feel the need to run around in the dark playing tag with these things.” Little lavender flames danced across the irises of her blue eyes as she tore away at the other side of the tattered frock so the length was more uniform, revealing an elaborate, white petticoat. She tossed the strips to Costin, should he need more for his loincloth. He used one of the strips to fashion a belt to hold his knife sheath.
“I’ve learned just about everything you could teach me, and far more,” Lucia said, confidently. “Am I not among the most formidable practitioners you know? Anything threatening me will find itself the prey in short order.”
“Unless you’re surprised,” Costin chided her, “or exhausted, or you make a mistake, or any number of things. You need to learn to defend yourself in every way possible, not just through spells and mystical energies.”
“And so I am,” Lucia snapped, gesturing to her tattered burgundy dress. “Have I not destroyed six frocks in two months, playing games with you out in the woods? Perhaps, for all the progress I’ve made, I’m still not the bloodthirsty gladiator you seem to be, but I am trying. We do not all of us possess the same passions, my love.”
Costin completed tying off his makeshift belt and gazed at Lucia despondently. Much as he wished it were otherwise, he had to agree with her assessment; she had a fighting spirit and great determination, but hand-to-hand combat was simply not in her blood. Her cousins and kinsmen had been raised on swordplay and war games, while she had been relegated to learning social etiquette and ceremony, being groomed for her future husband. Lucia had relished their training at first, as a respite from the limited prospects of her usual lessons, but had ultimately found it no more rewarding.
Lucia had a greater affinity for magick; she had as much, maybe slightly more, innate power as he. But unless they stayed together every day and every night, they would end up facing the things on their own, eventually. Knowing the ruthless and deceptive opponent they faced, Costin feared her magickal skills would not suffice.
Costin had thought on this, and had a plan for another way to deal with it, though the risk was great and the outcome not guaranteed. Thankfully, there had been only sporadic sightings of the Strigoi over the past weeks. The longer he could stave off going to desperate measures, the better it would be.
Costin rose to his feet, then offered Lucia his hand in assistance.
“You have made some good progress,” Costin admitted, forcing a smile upon his face. “Especially when compared to your lack of fighting prowess several months ago, when you would have been easy prey for any assailant. You know that I push you only because I worry for your safety and wish for you to be prepared. When the time comes that our skills are needed, you may yet have improved enough to face and defeat them.”
“May have?” Lucia repeated, questioningly.
“As I say,” Costin nodded, gravely. He could not bring himself to reassure her more than that.
After dusting themselves off as best they could, the pair walked in silence through the dark forest, hand in hand. The evening had felt so menacing while they played their game of cat-and-mouse, but now it seemed serene and romantic. Only the chill of the night air intruded on their perfect moment, and Costin shivered a bit in his revealing, new outfit. With a murmured word and a spark of deep blue light, he conjured a warm breeze to envelop them and keep them comfortable on their journey.
It took them almost a half hour to get within sight of the Great Circle, with its tall oaks ringing a central firepit. With all the troubles the Strigoi had brought, and the animosity between her people and Costin’s, few ventured out this far and availed themselves of the Circle these days. Nobody wanted to risk being set upon by some foul beast just for an evening by a campfire, so everyone stayed safely indoors at night. It was fortunate for Costin and Lucia, though, since the Circle sat halfway between their homes, and became a safe and private meeting point.
They had rendezvoused there on their first night together, a year prior, after their chance first meeting in town. She had briefly separated from her company to enter the shop stalls to find a small carving to give as a gift. In a stall run by Costin’s grandmother, she’d found a tiny relief of a dove, carved from oak, the most beautiful carving she’d ever seen. She’d also discovered, in Costin, the most beautiful boy she’d ever seen.
What little Lucia knew of Gypsies was from the casually foul descriptions her father and his officers used. The fact that Costin was a Gypsy immediately dispelled those words as obvious fiction. Something about Costin was immediately magnetic to Lucia, so much so that she dared to whisper to him to meet her that very evening. The dumbstruck boy had agreed, feeling the same mysterious pull to the noble girl, and they had shared countless evenings since, despite all the troubles, natural and supernatural, that had conspired to separate them.
The two reached the Great Circle and stood in its center, gazing into each others’ eyes for a moment, hands clasped together. The first hints of dawn were appearing on the horizon, as the black sky displayed ribbons of dark blue and purple behind the mountains. Lucia looked around the circle.
“Any word from your grandfather?” Lucia asked, gingerly. She recalled how Costin had told her the tale of his grandfather’s planting of the Great Circle, as a young man, and how he and his grandmother’s magicks had encouraged the trees to grow to maturity within a year. When he first told the story to her, she thought he was making it up. She had not yet learned of the power of magick.
“No word,” Costin answered, a little more gruffly than he intended. “Which I suppose is all for the best. If we’ve heard nothing, then your people have heard nothing, as well.”
“I do hope that he’s safe,” Lucia said, lamely. The two stood in awkward silence for a moment, listening to the breeze rustling the remaining oak leaves. “I have… tried to tell my father that the Gypsies’ magicks have nothing to do with the horrors plagueing our lands. That they are trying to stop–”
“Tell him nothing!” Costin interrupted, incredulous. “Are you touched? Lucia, please tell him nothing! Even if he believed you, do you really think the man would admit his mistake and welcome us back with open arms? Rescind his arrest orders?”
“He could,” Lucia suggested, hopefully. “Costin, he is not a heartless monster. He is just a man who is afraid, as many are, and trying to protect those in his care. He might listen to me.”
“More likely he will find out that you have been meeting me,” Costin replied, “and have a new reason to bring down his wrath on my people. I say let him blame who he blames. Let him regret his deeds when the truth comes out.”
“He has done what he has done,” Lucia replied calmly, “but he is still my father and I still would hope for better from him. I would hope that he, also, had the chance to work to set things aright. As I hope to do.”
Costin started to reply again, but bit his tongue instead. He knew Lucia felt tremendous guilt over what had happened, and that she felt obligated to do anything she could to help his family. He just wished she would stop bringing it up.
“Let us not speak any more of it,” Costin asked Lucia as he looked down, his face hot with emotion. “It’s done. My grandfather and grandmother are gone and I console myself with the knowledge that he, at least, may return one day. That is something.”
Lucia took Costin’s hand and said no more, sorry to have taken their conversation down that path in the first place. He responded by embracing her warmly, and planting a single, gentle kiss on her forehead.
“I should…” Costin said, looking into Lucia’s eyes. She nodded. Dawn would be upon them soon, and it would be much harder for Costin to slip back into his camp in the light of day. She had a secret entrance that she used, to make her passage rather easy, but he shared a much smaller space with far more people. And the Gypsies were light sleepers, especially with all the troubles of late.
“I will stay in the Circle a little longer,” Lucia said, “The leaves will be gone in a few weeks and I should like to see them in the light of dawn whenever I can. Nobody will check on me until eight.”
“Until tomorrow then,” Costin bowed deeply as he stepped backward. “Blessings upon you, as always.”
“And upon you, my love,” Lucia replied, before Costin turned and disappeared into the forest. In moments, he was gone from view.
Lucia sat on an upturned log and fished in a buttoned pocket on her dress, finding a small obejct carved from golden wood, which she turned over and over in her fingers.
“And upon you,” Lucia whispered.
Costin had traveled just over a full mile toward his family’s camp and was making very good time, when something started nagging at the corner of his brain, making him nervous. He slowed his pace then came to a full stop, listening intently, hoping that the source of his distraction was a deer or rabbit foraging in the leaves. He heard nothing. Even the breeze, which had provided a constant backdrop of rustling leaves, was still. The only sound that he heard was his own hushed breath, and his heart, beating from exertion.
Costin reversed direction, taking off at top speed toward the Great Circle once again. Dawn was coming far too soon for a detour like this; his mind whirled with visions of being stopped by guardsmen, wearing nothing but a loincloth, reinforcing their view of Gypsies as naught but savage denizens of the dark. He almost laughed at himself.
But he continued to run. He could not put his finger on the feeling he had, the dread that was coming over him, but he knew he needed to get to Lucia and make sure that she was all right before he made his way homeward. Perhaps it was just a delayed reaction to her decision to remain in the wood alone, whether dawn was approaching or not. He oughtn’t have let her stay there.
The nagging feeling got worse, not better, as he covered the distance between himself and the Circle. Costin felt a nausea settle upon him, like the feeling of being too hungry to eat. Despite this sensation, he ducked and jumped the branches and brambles of the deep forest with grace, and his pace quickened.
Recklessly, he made to leave the shelter of the wood and get on the main path. He dared put himself out in the open if it meant that he would see the Great Circle that much sooner and put his mind at ease. Perhaps he would even see Lucia from a distance, assure himself that she was well, then turn and head home straightaway. There was no need for him to embarrass himself by—
As he stepped onto the path, he could see the Great Circle in the distance, ablaze with lavender flame.
Costin ran faster, drawing his knife and searching his mind for the best incantations he might use in combat. He found himself too distracted, too tired from the evening’s activities, to concentrate, unfortunately. Panic settled upon him as he made a bee-line for the Circle, and for the figure standing in the center, arms outstretched, as the lights danced around her.
Suddenly, something snaked itself around his legs, causing him to pitch forward. Only a quick tuck and roll saved him from a nasty face-first collision with the dirt. He turned to orient on what had grabbed at him, and saw pair after pair of yellow eyes—dozens, maybe—staring out from the forest, and equally disturbing limbs, tendrils, arms, growing from the shadows like an unholy spreading vine.
Costin scrambled to his feet and continued toward the Circle, noticing more of the things on the other side of the path, and further up, near the Circle, and even behind him, coming boldly onto the path itself. He had seen these things individually—he and Lucia had even dispatched a few in the course of their evening outings—but his blood turned to ice to see the mass of creatures of all shapes and sizes that were closing in on them.
The Gypsy boy turned from the mob and headed directly for the safety of the circle of lavender flame, passing through the sheet of fire harmlessly and stumbling into the now brightly-lit Great Circle. Lucia stood transfixed, arms up, the flames cascading and rolling from her to fuel the circle. Her face was ashen, and she looked shocked to see Costin.
“Why are you here?” Lucia demanded, her concentration faltering for a moment. The lavender fire subsided a bit, and Costin saw, with revulsion, that the horde of creatures had them completely encircled. The things didn’t dare to come through the flames, but nor did they seem overly worried about dawn’s approach. Costin also saw something else that horrified him: Lucia’s burgundy dress was wet and dark, and her white petticoat was bright red at the hem.
“How?” Costin asked.
“It was as you said,” Lucia responded, face pained. “They waited until I was unaware, distracted, then attacked before I could cast a spell of protection.” The flames subsided even more, and one small, gray, multi-legged thing skittered through and came at them. Costin stabbed it viciously, then pulled the knife up to cleave it in half. Both halves fell, writhing to the dirt before dissolving into dust. “I was so glad that you were not here,” Lucia said, tears streaking her face. “I was so glad that you would survive.”
“A fantasy,” Costin replied, coming closer and embracing her, lending her some of his strength. The wall of flame burned stronger, lavender mixed with jets of dark blue, preventing any further intrusions. “They would come for me, for my family, for your father, for all of us in turn. We stand together or die apart.”
Up close, though, Costin could see the severity of Lucia’s injury. Her dress had a deep gash in it from just under her breast all the way down to her waist. Blood from the wound soaked not only her dress and petticoat, but also the dirt floor of the Circle. Costin caught a gasp in his throat.
“You will stand together and die together,” came an unfamiliar, deep voice from beyond the circle of flame. Costin could make out a shape; a black-robed man, painfully thin, with slender fingers and curved, sharp fingernails. His face was obscured by the robe’s cowl. He stood, surrounded by the legions of foul creatures, like a twisted, hellish version of St. Francis.
“Do not worry,” Costin murmured, wrapping his arms around Lucia from behind, putting pressure on her wound. She winced, but stood her ground. “We are stronger than he knows. We will survive this test.”
“Indeed,” the figure continued. “You two most certainly are strong. You should feel honored that we consider you so important that we must amass such a force to deal with you. Once you are gone, such an assemblage may never be needed again.”
“I am not worried,” Lucia assured Costin, her eyes closed. She pulled Costin’s hand away from her stomach and pressed something into his hand: something small and smooth. Her own hand closed on his, and held it tight. “I have been waiting for just this occasion. I knew it would come.”
Lucia gripped Costin’s other hand tightly, and began to murmur some incantations he was unfamiliar with. As she started to work her spell, the wall of flame extinguished abruptly, its energy drawn back into the pair at the center of the circle. The creatures began to move slowly toward them, uncertain why their way was suddenly clear, and wary of the flames’ potential return.
“It will end quickly,” the black robed man assured them, standing in place as the sea of hideous things swept past him. “It will all be over in a moment.”
Costin, listening intently to Lucia’s words, gradually understood the intent of her spell, and nodded his head, his eyes filling with tears. He felt a great swell of love for this girl who had opened her heart to him and vowed to right a terrible wrong. He chanted the words along with her.
“It will all be over in a moment,” the man repeated, his excitement overcoming him, licking his lips in anticipation.
“You’re wrong,” Lucia said, simply.
The Great Circle exploded with a brilliant, white light and a thundering roar that was heard from the castle all the way to Costin’s camp. The roar drowned out the squeals and shrieks of the hideous demons as they were incinerated where they stood.
When the light was gone, all that remained in the circle of oak trees were two lifeless bodies still clasping a tiny, wooden dove.