Once Was: Book One of the Asylum Trilogy (16 page)

Layer upon layer of my precautions fell away under my touch, a spider’s intricate web of promised death to those I’ve barred entry to and a sweet promise of pain for those simply unwelcome. The ticking away of a clock fell through my memories as each spell recognized me as the proper occupant. Not so much as a remembered warning traced through the echoes; my door remained locked with my magics—no one had entered since my last presence. With a hum of approval, the wood opened in a grand sweep of admittance, then closed behind me in a silent offer of privacy.

A charmed window allowed fresh air to circulate but denied harsh weather or birds their entry. Moonlight filtered in and concentrated upon the lamp’s candle wick, forming a warm glow to welcome me. The room’s simplicity reminded me of mine at home; I had never been one for decorations. Other than a bed, desk, and a small basket for the assortment of collections I made during my years on Sheelin, it was empty. No wardrobe covered the wall; my two changes of robes were dust-covered upon my bed, and the rose and star emblazoned circlet with its matching bracelet of my position as the next Oneira still glittered upon the navy velvet pillow on the window ledge.

A simple change of bracelet had changed my path. I went from being an apprentice dream-interpreter and full-time healer to a wandering healer in my avoidance of this piece of worked metal. The Roseen of my memories claimed that she was heeding the demands of Bas. It is human nature to paint ourselves in flattering shades when we pen our own history.

I ran away from my duties. Sesha, the grand Oracle, our Great Mother, the speaker for Bas, had chosen me to be her successor. I shirked those duties, claiming Bas wanted me to see more of Her people before taking on the mantle of duty. My selfish pride was damaged in Sesha’s choice. I wanted to be High Priestess, not Oracle. I wanted to lead our people in rituals, not sit in a temple and wait for Bas to speak. What fool would want to experience nightmare after nightmare like those I grew up with? So, I ran. I ran from city to city, speaking the ways of the old religion, fighting back Liand’s poison with the only magic I truly had. I spread hope.

I helped rebuild temples, healed the sick, divined dreams, and closed my mind to Bas except when healing others. If She could not give me my own dreams, I could not be guilted into returning. Now, knowing what fate I had left my fellow priests and priestesses to, guilt tried to cripple me. Guilt, however, would not see us through the mess. Guilt did not change things, nor was this my fault. Whatever had happened very likely would have occurred with my presence. Had I been here earlier, I may have been lost within the magic’s thrall in the grove with the High Priestess.

The black robe I chose to wear ghosted down my arms and legs in simplistic swirls. The white was embroidered, a painful lesson in patience, whereas the black was plain except for a moon and paw print stitched across the bodice. It was far from elegant, but it suited the purpose. I could not go further in wet and stained clothing. Here, more than anywhere in the world, I needed to look the part of a priestess. On Sheelin, the political games among the sisters vying for a position with the handmaidens could drive many a woman to cloister herself away in the abbey.

Had my sister not killed herself, she would have been offered a place in the abbey where they work at providing the island’s inhabitants with their needs. Tending the gardens, spinning, weaving, cleaning . . . All such tasks were done by the nuns save the metalworking; that belonged in the hands of Aya’s priests. Had Sava been alive, she would have been a comfort, one I might have stayed on Sheelin for.

I crept down the back hall to the temple room where soft echoes of voices in prayer could be heard. The last of the chambers, Sesha’s private room, glowed with an amber light. A furtive glance showed no one inside, and I breathed a sigh of relief. A private chastisement would be far worse than one in public.

Keening wails joined the sung prayer. The echoes rang out like a funerary cry among the burial mounds. Twice before had I heard such a sound, one was at the death of the prior High Priestess when she succumbed to pneumonia, and the other was from my own lips the day my bond with Fion snapped.

The soul-cry hastened my steps until I ran the length of remaining hallway, then brought me to my knees at the entrance to the temple room. None may enter Sesha’s presence on foot; as Goddess-voice she deserves our respect, even that grudgingly given.

Upon her white cushion sat the Oracle, draped in black robes. Across her lap was the source of their wails. A priestess of the healing school was nude, her face locked in a visage of painful torment. Dried blood stained her thighs and ran down a slice from her neck to bruised breasts. She had been desecrated.

I crawled to her on knees and hands, head bent in supplication. Sesha’s once-gray hair was now snow white and shortly curled about her face. Silver edged spectacles sat upon her nose, and the patient smile she bore for so many years had etched deep lines around her mouth.

“Rise, Child, and claim your seat.” She did not mean around the room with the other women. It was time for me to grow up.

My eyelashes remained pressed upon my cheeks, eyes closed while I regained my feet and stepped behind Sesha to the pale purple cushion for her successor. Not until I sat did I open my eyes, and I saw pain. The carnage outside was printed across their faces, invisible blood splattered over foreheads and cheeks in the fashion of war paint.

The priestesses had gone to war.

A war they lost, Daughter.
Bas’ voice was a sweet blessing in my skull before settling into my bones like an elder’s wintery aches.

“Sister Roseen has returned at the right time, my children. All hope is not lost.” The Oracle turned to the side, her wrinkled flesh undulating with the motion. “Cloreen, take Lenai to the burial ground. We cannot take her to the city now. Everyone else, go wash yourselves. Judgment has been rendered by Bas. Offer up prayers in private, then you may return for our penance.” She clapped her hands sharply twice and barked, “Go!”

I knew I was not included in the dismissal, else I would not have been granted my seat. I waited. Cries outside continued, chants lingering in the halls like wayward ghosts, and my mind wandered with them as I awaited both knowledge and punishment.

“You have come at the right time, my daughter. Sheelin has been reclaimed by the Goddess,” she told me. Sesha’s voice held a reverent tone of limitless wisdom. I knew if I waited, she would tell me everything. “Four, Roseen. Four of your sisters have been slain. Two when Asha called, then two again this early morn before the sun shook off its slumber.”

My eyes closed, teeth quivering in my body’s confusion of if I wanted to bite down until my jaw creaked or let my jaw fall open in shock, and I cried. Warm tears crested my cheeks before falling into my lap, splashing upon my fingers. “Why?” was my only question.

Turning upon her cushion to face me, Sesha held out a handkerchief. “Stevanis went to trade knowledge with the Madani smith. He was captured by guards bearing the crimson sash; they held Stevanis for more than two moons. We were so thankful when the Consort returned to us that we ignored any oddness about him, more than happy to claim it was due to the torturous ordeal he sustained. Few have survived a stay in Lorilindo.”

I had, something I would not share with her ever. Those memories were for Bas and myself alone. She had granted me that gift, not sharing it with other oneira, as a reward for my sacrifice. The sisters I had saved did not know I was there when Liand cast them out onto the wilds. Not even Cade would hear the whole of my stay. “The townsfolk live in fear of being sent to Liand’s capital city,” I acknowledged.

“Stevanis was changed, obviously. Others were subjugated to his will. Liand poisoned the Divine Escort and sent him back as bait. With beautiful words, he wove his way into the hearts of three priests, including the High Priest. They, in turn, desecrated the temple. They,” she paused to regain control of her voice, “They defiled their bodies, Roseen.”

I knew what the blood meant and shuddered. Each woman is an incarnation of Bas. Fertility and carnal enjoyment should be of her own decision and will, not something stolen by force.

Holding out her hands in prayer, I gave in to Sesha’s request and let her hold them, knowing full well what would happen. I sank into her memories, seeing through Sesha’s eyes and hearing her thoughts.

*

“No, Stevanis—you mustn’t!” I watched from behind a tree; Asha’s white waves stood out around her face as the wind whipped with her anger. My mate’s hands rested upon her shoulders, his intent glittering like blood rubies upon her.

“I’ve had two of them, Witch.” I closed my eyes to think of him doing that to my daughters. They were not mine in blood, but in heart and spirit I was their mother. “If they hadn’t fought me, perhaps the Sun Lord would have honored them with a position in Lorilindo beside me when I return. When you’re all dead, Lord Liand has offered me a place in his church. My bride shall become the Abbess of any women who turn their faces upon the righteous path.” He wounded my pride by not coming to me to be his bride, yet I knew my position as his mate was only by the gods’ decree that the Oracle and Escort be wed as Bas and Aya are.

He spat in Asha’s face even as he shoved her to the ground. “Don’t you get it, Asha? They’re dead! Aya, Bas . . . They don’t care about us; They never have. They’re dead. The Sun Lord is here, and He rewards those who turn to His light.” His sword—a ceremonial knife made by the first priest—was covered in blood as he stepped back, smug satisfaction covering his face as he watched the priestess fade.

Having witnessed my younger partner destroy our child, I stepped from behind the tree that hid me. “Your light is that of a dying star, fallen son of Aya. Forgive me.” I had no choice; Bas gave me no choice. The blade I held within my hands was released with a prayer. A summoned gust of air propelled the shining dagger across the clearing into his chest, and lightning arced from the sky to the pommel, exploding through his body. “Your poison has burned us all,” I whispered while taking slow steps to Stevanis as he fell. I leaned over his dying form and kissed the bloodied lips that still tingled with the electricity I summoned. I closed his hands around the symbol of his office and offered one last prayer. “Sleep well, my Consort.”

*

“No,” I murmured, coming out of Sesha’s memory.

“Yes. The Oracle cannot let her whims rule her actions. I loved him as Bas loves Aya, but I could not let him get away with his deeds. My Consort raped,” a wayward tear rolled down her cheek, “three women we were to care for. Asha was prevented that injustice, only to lose her life. Two sisters were killed by the priests who believed that vitriol he spewed. Asha took them to the mainland to be buried before bringing the last boat here.”

Looking down at the blood covering the ground and her lap, Sesha shook her head. “Lenai, the third priestess, turned a blade onto herself and crawled to the main temple before expiring. As you came through the Grotto to arrive, I know you saw what our High Priestess has done. She would not heed Bas’ orders, and to save face I said what I must. In response, we are all dying, Daughter.”

I watched dumfounded as the Oracle removed her silver circlet and handed it to me. “Great Mother—” I started before she stopped me with a bloodied finger upon my lips.

“Men’s lust took four priestesses from this world. In our false confidence we took all the men on the island. Yes, all,” she added as I gulped. “We let desire for revenge color an aisling in shades of rage. She demanded justice; we declared retribution. That which defiled our maidens, both in speech and physicality, was removed.”

Her words invoked memories of the bloodied men in the Grove, their tongues and manhoods cut from their bodies. “And now, Sesha?” I braved a question in the brightly lit chamber.

“Their ignorance and our pride have destroyed our magic. We have lost balance, Child. Bas and Aya have abandoned us, Roseen. They remain in the hearts of believers on the main land. She says we’ve destroyed ourselves, and we have. My blindness to my own heart allowed me to slaughter my sons and daughters, even if was not my hand that held the blade.”

Her hands folded over my heart, the coldness of her fingers shocking me. “She is still in you, Roseen. She keeps you as Her priestess still. You are not bloodied like we are.” If only she knew. “Our time has ended. Sheelin is fading from your realm. The last of our magic is taking us out of existence. You, though, my little dreamer, can carry on our works. You can begin again all that the first tried to.”

She gave me my tasks over the next several minutes, and in a final act of love, dry, velvety lips brushed across my forehead. “I give to you the knowledge of those who wore this crown before you. May you temper it with the wisdom you were born with and that you have gained in the world.” Sesha reached down beside her for the black leather book that belonged to every Oracle to walk Sheelin’s shores. “Bas, if You will hear my final prayer, I give to You the next Oracle. My service has ended.”

With a heavy heart and mind, I ran from Sesha. When she told me Sheelin was falling apart, she meant it. The throbbing I’d felt, the heartbeat of my home, was dying. Its heart was cramped with the black blood in which it had been drenched.

“Reinstate the Goddess,” she’d charged me with. The priestess I had been when I left here before groused at being given such a task. For Sheelin, for Bas, and for all the sisters who had raised me, I would bring back the priesthood. In Bas’ name I would find a way to live side by side with ministers of the new regime, or sway them to give us a peaceful refuge to worship in solitude. Pity the man, even Cade, who tries to stop me.

Sheelin was crumbling apart beneath my feet as I reached the Grove. The priestess continued her chants, her voice hoarse as she now gave magic to hold the land together long enough for me to flee.