Chapter 20 - Muted Refrain

When shadows meet in candlelight,

And ancient sins demand their right,

The past returns with bitter cost,

To claim the love that can’t be lost.

Aranach entered the hut first, ducking his head a bit to avoid hitting it on the low door frame. Elanor followed. They both had their weapons at the ready.

“Oh, you can put those away,” the old voice said.

An elderly woman stood with her back to them, her hands busy at the small counter in the corner of the hut that served as a kitchen.

The late night wind rattled through gaps in the wooden structure, but the warmth of the fire kept the chill away.

A few minutes later, she turned toward them. As Elanor and Aranach looked at her face, it occurred to both of them that the woman was older than anyone they had ever seen. Her face showed the weather of centuries, yet somehow she stood just as straight and tall as her two young guests.

“Please sit,” she said, indicating a sofa in front of a small fireplace.

She set a tray down on the table in between them and sat in a chair opposite the sofa.

She looked at them for a moment and then poured the steaming tea into three cups.

She reached for hers and noticed the two not doing the same.

Aranach spoke up first.

“May we know your name? And why you are altering the wildlife to be more feral and aggressive toward the people of Gravelthorn?”

The woman glared at him, but the sinister expression left her face just as quickly as it had appeared.

She took a slow sip of her tea, closing her eyes as if savoring the flavor.

“How about this,” she said. “I’ll give you two options. You can leave right now, empty-handed but unharmed.”

She gave the two teacups in front of them a nudge. “Or you can drink and I’ll answer all of your questions.”

She leaned back, and then raised a finger.

“Oh, and since you’re wondering, yes. The tea is poisoned. But I will provide the antidote long before any damage sets in.”

Elanor looked at Aranach, then back at the woman and down at the tea. At The Shroud, they’d been taking small doses of various types of poisons for years to build a resistance to the most common among them.

Before Aranach could say anything, Elanor lifted the cup to her lips and took a long sip. The tea was surprisingly delicious.

Hints of apple and cinnamon wove with an earthy element that was almost certainly a poison-bearing mushroom.

Aranach watched in horror as Elanor set the cup back down. As she leaned back, and a sudden tightness gripped her throat.

Her breath still came easily, but her ability to speak was gone.

Her mind flashed back to the prison cell she’d occupied in Myrrindel for so long. The idea of her voice being locked away like her body had been was jarring, but she did her best to remain calm.

The woman sat silently, waiting for Aranach to make his decision. Her face betrayed nothing as she watched.

Finally he reached for the cup and swallowed down a large gulp of the liquid. He found his voice quelled also.

The woman stood and began pacing as she spoke.

“Good. The poison will be fine in your system for a half hour before it does any harm. Before that point I’ll give you the antidote, along with a request for your help. Until then, you’ll listen silently to my tale. And because you didn’t whine and complain about the poison, I will give you the antidote whether you agree to help me or not.”

Elanor and Aranach simply nodded, and the woman began her story.

“If you’re training at The Widow’s Shroud, then you know the world is comprised of much more gray than it is black and white.”

A look of surprise showed on both Elanor and Aranach’s faces.

“What? Of course I’d recognize assassins from the Shroud. I trained there myself, after all. Although it was centuries ago…”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Her voice trailed off for a moment.

“Anyway. No matter that. Back to the point. The world is full or moral gray. As assassins, you must learn to operate within that framework without losing yourself.”

She sipped her tea, and Elanor found herself doing the same. The damage was already done, and the flavor was impeccable, after all.

“It was exactly the same way for me,” the woman continued. “Yet once, two hundred years ago, I found myself challenged in ways I never thought possible. I was torn between my mission and the last pleas of a dying man.”

She cast her eyes downward, shame crossing her wrinkled face.

“The Umbral Thread had accepted a contract to end the life of a man living on a mountain near here. He lived secluded in a hut not unlike this one.”

She looked around her, sighing at the rundown nature of her abode.

“The man was an elemental mage, and I followed his magical trail up the mountain path and right to his front door. I coated my daggers in poison and slammed through the door with the fury of the nine hells.”

As she took another sip of her tea, Elanor noticed a slight tremor in the woman’s hand.

“I slashed his wrists before he could cast any spells, and was about to finish him off, when something in his eyes gave me pause. He was screaming out in pain, but he didn’t look hostile. I steadied my hand, withholding the killing blow, and he spoke to me.”

The woman took in a deep breath, and began speaking in a deeper tone. Her voice perfectly mimicked a gruff man’s. Elanor knew if she closed her eyes, she’d not be able to tell the difference. The imitation was flawless.

“If you let me live, you can take my hand as proof of my death and I’ll disappear from society forever. Your contract will be complete. I have a child, and wish to see her grow and blossom. We lost her mother last year and I’m the last thing she has left in this world.”

The woman continued in the deep, booming man’s voice.

“But if you strike me down now, you will be cursed. Know that your body will be blessed with perfect health for exactly two thousand years, while your face will betray the true nature of your soul.”

Her voice returned to her own.

“I was sure he was lying. A dying man would say anything, after all. I laughed in his face and struck my killing blow. I severed his hand to seal the contract, wrapping it in a black cloth before tucking it into my satchel. I wiped my blades clean on his tunic and sheathed them. But when I turned to leave, a young girl stood in the doorway. She couldn’t have been a day older than four years.”

The woman let her gaze wander to the dancing flames of the fire.

“At that moment, I realized the man hadn’t lied about having a child. I didn’t know what to do, so I took her in my arms and ran. I completed the mission at the nearest outpost, but didn’t take more. I retired to the countryside with Wren, and I raised her on the farmland as my own until she reached adulthood.”

Elanor’s face lit up. Wren? The young woman who had helped her escape Goldenvale’s mansion in Myrrindel said to call her Wren.

Both Elanor and Aranach felt their throats loosening bit by bit. Elanor had a feeling it wasn’t poison that she’d been given, but she remained still and silent.

The woman continued with her tale.

“When Wren was around sixteen, a scout from The Shroud came to make an offer. I wanted to refuse and send him on his way. I had grown to love her more than anything in the world. But that curse remained in effect. My body was stronger than ever, but my face showed signs of every questionable decision I’d ever made. The life of an assassin isn’t easy, and the missions aren’t always black and white.”

She sighed yet again, and Elanor could see the exasperation written all over the woman’s ancient face.

“Still,” the hostess continued, “if there was a chance for restraint back in those days, I didn’t often take it. The power you feel when you hold a man’s life in your hands can be intoxicating, and I will admit to you now that I drank freely from that well.”

She laughed. It was not a pleasant sound, but one that betrayed her profound sadness.

“In the end, Wren begged me to let her train at The Shroud. She wanted to follow in my footsteps. Somehow that beautiful child saw through this ugly face and into my heart. Black as it may have been in my distant past, from the day I met Wren, I strove to be the best role model I could. I’d have given anything for her. Even my very life. And so, when she told me she wanted to join the Umbral Thread, I couldn’t tell her no. She left a few weeks later and I haven’t seen her since.”

Tears were streaming down the etched lines of her leathery skin now. She wiped them away with her sleeve, and composed herself.

“Okay, you’ve listened to my tale. Let me return your speech.”

She handed them each a small vial she pulled from a pocket and they drank.

The woman looked at Aranach.

“You asked my name. You can call me Orthixia. It’s an ugly name for an ugly woman.”

Orthixia looked down at the floor, sadness still showing on her face.

Aranach cleared his throat and was happy to hear the antidote indeed worked.

“Orthixia…”

He reached out toward her hand.

Orthixia smiled at him.

“Now for my request. It comes in two parts. I know you’re on your final test at The Shroud. You wouldn’t have been able to leave if it weren’t so. After you complete your training, can you please find Wren? Tell her…”

She sniffled a bit as tears continued falling.

“Tell her I love her more than anything, and that my pride in her is the only pure thing left in me.”

Elanor looked thoughtful.

“I think I may have met her before,” she said.

Orthixia leapt up from the sofa. The move was so quick that it surprised both Elanor and Aranach. The wrinkled, old face connected to a youthful body was like a blasphemy of nature.

“Could it be? Please, describe her to me.”

Elanor described the young woman. Elanor was pretty young then, but she thought the girl was in her early twenties, with jet black hair. And one thing that Elanor did not forget. Wren had been wearing a barrette in her hair to hold it back out of her face.

“The barrette had a silver circle engraved with—”

“A wolf?”

“Yes. A wolf!” Elanor said.

Orthixia reached forward and pulled Elanor into a hug.

She was surprised again by the ferocity displayed, but she returned it. Wren had displayed a kind heart back then, and Elanor vowed to never forget her.

“I will get a message to her,” Elanor vowed. “I must continue my training at the Eversong Vault next, but I will ensure Sapphire gets word to Wren. I promise.”

“What is your second request?” Aranach asked.

Orthixia looked up at him. She wiped the tears away once again. A look of determination crossed her face.

“Before you leave here tonight,” she said, “I want you to kill me.”