Once Was: Book One of the Asylum Trilogy (7 page)

I had never felt more alone in my life as I did when he walked out the door.

*

Empty though it stood, the building with its assorted dust-covered furniture was still mine. Even now, I can smell the old, bound books I sent to my parents on my travels
—
some of my own making and others I purchased with the meager funds I earned as a healer.

Turning to face the front of the home, I remembered Mother’s first loom and the great wheel she kept in “the display,” what she called the front window of her shop. That section had been opened up into the house by Father and was used by Cade as storage for the forge. Dust now swirled around my feet, my boots requiring new soles before I left if I could inconvenience Cade to take them to the cobbler.

Some part of me, the one that knew what awaited me on Sheelin if I allowed the High Priestess and Oracle their way, wanted to return to the island in the guise of acceptance. Long days of traveling and healing had left my body in need of pampering to restore my spirit. Having another healer purge my energy of any lingering illness from patients would be a decadent delight to my senses. To be waited upon by an attendant from the abbey bearing creams and oils to soften weathered flesh could only be seen as pure luxury.

Lying to the women who run Sheelin in Bas’ stead, even considering it, was enough to make my chest clench. I had become the queen of omission and word twisting but denied myself the true telling of falsehoods, even to save my own skin. Perhaps a day or two resting in my old home before I allowed Bas to pull me onward again would heal my nostalgia for the past and remove the longing from my heart.

Despite my desires, my first action had to be attending to whatever had called me home. That specific longing, now a dull ache from Bas’ claw, would not end until my task was complete. If Asha had left a message of explanation for me, it was time I reach out for it. Bas would not look with favor upon me if I denied Her ways again. She gave me powers and could take them away if I did not behave in accordance to my vows as Her priestess. My way of life is with thanks to Her.

Dreams are the realm in which I am a demi-god. No physical walls can stop me from the unseen world. Mental walls, however, can stop me from accessing my own thoughts. Taking them down would be as simple as going to sleep in a familiar bed.

Walking to the room that had once upon a time been mine, I was unsurprised to find the cloth draped mattress dusty from lack of use. Cade had left the house undisturbed since my last visit.

Making a path of footsteps to the small room that I was conditioned to feel like a child upon entering, I stepped into the pale gold room belonging to my parents. Mother’s tapestries still covered the walls, their bed stripped down so that a handful of old sheets covered the wooden slats and fraying rope that would have suspended a mattress filled with unusable wool from the wheel, straw, and herbs to drive away moths and any vermin from our neighbors.

My eyes fell upon the rustic comfort of my parents’ mingled efforts. An iron rack stood upon the frame of a broken spinning wheel, the distaff stoic in its disuse, a faded quilt of old wool and cotton tufts wrapped in an oiled cloth to protect it. It was the only one left, it had been one of the three Mother had made. Father took his with him to Bivii, and mine had been bartered for a month’s lodging and food in a small village outside of Aristeer shortly after the Wall was erected around it.

Important cities to the spread of Liand’s poison were enclosed behind a physical barrier of brick and mortar; others, like Madani, have been merely protected by his soldiers as materials are gathered to extend the Wall. Whether Liand’s Divide, as it is known, is meant to keep priestesses from leaving Sheelin and accessing possible initiates, or simply to denote which cities the army has conquered, I am unsure. When I was under Liand’s employ, he was not one for idle chatter. He inquired of my day before dismissing my response, poured me a glass of wine as he ate dinner, fed me small pieces as if I were a child or pet, then motioned me to his private sleeping quarters.

Our mornings had their own patterns. Healing treatments, a bath, breakfast with the soldiers in which I was seated between Liand and his hussy of a sister, Kayade. May she burn in a special level of the Smith’s forges for a long portion of eternity. The damned golden thread she wove into my hair after I clawed her following another binding kept me from doing anything but my full healing abilities and limited dream viewing. Liand’s command that I wear it or die was the only thing that kept it in my hair.

My hair.

I unbound the waves and could still feel the scorched scars where the thread had bound me. With my hair down, I shed my clothing until I was only in a sweat-stained chemise that would have to make do until I had rested. I could rummage through the storage chest for Mother’s old shifts later.

Twisting my hair into a loose bun until I was comfortable enough upon the dusty mattress and covered with the blanket, I stared at the ceiling. Cade had resumed his work, I heard the first blows of the hammer, a pause as he inspected his work, reheating or cooling as necessary, then more hammering. He was up to something; that much I did know. The short swords on display for sale did not gleam like my father’s nor the earlier work of Cade’s I had seen. The one blade I touched felt fragile somehow, and I was certain it was unbalanced. Disappointment would have filled me to see my father’s soul, his forge, used on sub-par creations, but I knew Cade well enough to see that he was putting up a facade.

Yes: he had his part to do, whatever it may be, as I had mine to do
—
a part that began with me attempting to sleep. I closed my eyes, letting the sunlight filter through my eyelids as it made me see glowing red from the blood within the small veins there.

*

Deep breath in, held for two heart beats, then out.

“Asha,” I whispered.

I reached out across the water I had woken beside this morning, and let the magic carry me.

“Share your message.”

I felt the cold depth carrying me across cool waters, the sun warming my face. It was peaceful as I floated, the temperate dichotomy sandwiching me in between their layers as Bas’ claws pulled me to where I was needed in this dream realm. With a choking gasp, the claws ripped through me like swords and threw me onto the shore. Blood dripped onto the sand, and I knew my physical body was likewise damaged.

“Someone, anyone, help me!” I begged with blood foaming on my dream-self’s lips.

Chapter Six

I dreamt all of you long before you come to my island. One day, you will dream all my dreams and those to come after me. Dream well, my sisters. Dream of a beautiful world.

From the First to the Last, a Book of Wishes

A
sha
stood
over me, her hands running across my wounds as she sucked on a green leaf. She reminded me so much of Kira, or even Sesha, that she blurred from one form to another. Even so close to me that we were touching, she was out of focus, as if I had put on smudged spectacles or were looking through multiple mirrors to see what was going on outside of my sight. “I saw that you would come home, Child, but you answered my call too late. Now you have no home to come home to.” I felt my injuries begin to close under her touch, the cold itch of Asha’s magic healing me from the inside out. My head ached as I tried to look around, forcing myself to see what was happening on Sheelin. The magic holding me there was not strong enough. It was a broken memory placed there for me to witness.

“I took the last boat. You must find your own way home to us.” The image flickered, showing me in perfect health though sore, beside her in the main temple. The large statue of Bas in the reliquary stared down Her feline nose at me. Asha’s voice fluctuated in volume, as if she was having a hard time maintaining the vision to me.

“You know the way; are you strong enough to take it?” Her eyes widened, and she turned aside with her mouth open in alarm. A man came up behind her, one too out of focus for me to identify. The vision darkened, setting me back into the icy waters before the light surrounded me again.

Asha’s voice came back, a whisper this time. “Sister-child, the way of the road is in your heart, and to it you will return. The Oneira has seen it; so shall it be.” A glimmer of fire scorched me in Asha’s gaze, making me hold my tongue when I desired to say where Sesha could shove her vision.

“Do not let the anvil stay your course. You are needed, else I would not have called you to Sheelin. I will see you on the mainland’s full moon. I am hopeful it will not be too late to say good-bye. Bas’ blessings on your journey, my dear, sweet child. Bas’ blessings for us all.” As her lips closed, darkness closed in on Asha, leaving me adrift in moonlight on the water, alone.

“Too late,” she called. “Too late. Save the rest. Save yourself. Too late.”

*

I was shoved outside the aisling as quickly as Bas had pulled me to it. Too late? I was surprised Asha had left my message of sorts on the astral, waiting for me to search for her. As it was, my connection to her had been limited. No other faces had been recognizable to my imperfect sight. It had been days, if not more than a week, since she had left the vision for me to find; the time had degraded the quality. Asha knew the bulk of my reasons for leaving Sheelin, that she left this message to chance worried me. If it was as important as this, she would have been far better to have any of the oneira project herself into my dreams. Perhaps I would have come faster. Perhaps not given the other oneiras’ opinion of me.

Bright sunlight, that of the afternoon sun, shone through my bedroom window, blinding me. It was still a shock to have glass windows inside wood and stone walls where oil-clothed curtains were once suspended within a thatched cottage. When Sheelin released me to become a missionary, I had returned to Madani to find a small house where the cottage in the way of our ancestors had once stood in pride. If not for its proximity to the forge and Mother’s sign in front, I would not have known it to be my home.

The sun shining onto my face through the window above my bed was a treasured sensation. Most places I stayed had long since been overrun with industry, and smog filled the once clear skies. A bath, bed, and sun were luxuries not often afforded by a priestess. My nap, which to my mind had felt like mere moments had been hours, still left me tired and aching. Pulling back the blanket, I cried.

Crimson stains faded out into the dirty bronze color of drying blood, coating my clothing, the mattress, and the underside of the extra quilt. My ribcage and stomach ached from bone deep rakings of claws through me; sitting up made my head swim. Despite Asha’s healing magic, I had lost too much blood.

Laying back down, I angled myself into the largest patch of sunlight and tried to be calm. “Sun above me, source of Aya’s fires, heal me.” The golden glow warmed my skin, the heat seeping into my tender flesh. “Earth beneath me,” I paused as I felt down beneath the wooden floorboards to the fertile earth. “Rich earth, Bas’ hunting ground, heal me.”

Gold and dark green lights converged upon my body, communing in a sacred dance of their patrons. Bas and Aya bowed before one another as They waltzed through my body, healing me.

“You were right, Lady,” Aya murmured against the Goddess’ slender throat. “She does call to You with all her heart. Perhaps We can still use her.”

A throaty purr warmed me far more than the sun as Bas laughed against Her lover’s cheek. “She’s My priestess, Consort. She’ll use her own claws to rip out Your throat if You force her. Coax her as I have.”

Even I knew better than to announce that I was there and had my full consciousness. It did not do one good to interrupt the Gods as They determined the fate of a priestess. They spoke in words I both did and did not understand. Their magic was a bright force as it healed wounds I did not know existed.

“This, My Lady. This is Our brother’s work.” Aya’s voice held a reverence I did not know. “Why have You not cleaned it out of her?” The paternal side was winning out over His position as Her lover.

“You are questioning Me?” Bas took offense. I held still as a corpse, my eyes closed to Their brilliance. “I cannot do everything, Wayland Smith. They would not learn if We coddled them too greatly. I do not like My children to be My pets. I must loosen the leash if I am to be loved as I crave.”

Lulled by Bas’ words, I drifted in contentment. The verdant sunlight beckoned me with pulsing medicine for my soul.

Then came bone-shattering pain.

I convulsed upwards, newly knit wounds tearing open as molten metal poured through me, scouring the hidden parts of me. Fire followed in its wake, burning away the blackness. “Sleep, Little Priestess. Let Me clean you.” Aya’s voice softened as He forced me into a pain-free realm of unconsciousness.

*

It was almost dinner time when I awoke again. The sky was softening to a warm reddish glow through the windows, a gentle awakening compared to the bright pain of before. Pain? The pain. Was it all a dream?

Seeking fingers slid over silken skin, finding no scars across my sides, even the one gained years ago from falling into a thicket of berry bushes and cutting myself on a dagger. Looking down, I saw pale skin against the tanned flesh marking out two large hand prints on my abdomen. Aya had healed me.

Praise to the Lord and Lady.
I gave the prayer in my head, too scared to voice my thanks and break whatever spell I was under.

Their magic still throbbed under my skin. Would it be enough to see me to Sheelin?

The full moon was when I would find if my own magic held; I had little time to learn if I could walk upon the water as the first priestess had done when she was led to Sheelin by Bas. The woman was heavy with child as she made the treacherous path, stumbling to the shores that welcomed her as a parent welcomes home a child.