The Woman in the Garden

Chapter X. Banishment

There were only five Ash'abah at the house, and Xadoran sent two out to find Ella, leaving them with Salim, Ithko, and himself.

"The vampire is still out there," he told the two. "Go to the river; those girls took refuge there." The men nodded and headed into the woods without a word, weapons drawn and ready.

In the garden, Xadoran and Ithko were preparing a bonfire. A stone circle was laid out by the base of the juniper tree, and beside it stacked a pile of twigs and strips of dried bark that the Ash'abah had to carry under their cloaks to keep dry from the rain. Toren and three of Khara's guards carried the marble tray of fire salts slowly across the garden. The salts needed no protection, evaporating the raindrops that landed on the tray, and plumes of steam rose with their procession like a smoky standard. Shaniera was brought behind them, escorted by Salim, Rodar, Hasan, and her cousin, Blane. All had their swords belted at their sides, different sizes and curves of scimitar and dagger, save for Blane's; the straight and long blade he wore was a symbol of the swordsmanship he had learned from his travels to Daggerfall. Xadoran cautioned them to keep armed fighters by her side at all times before the ritual, though she didn't seem like much of a threat. Shaniera walked in a daze, and had to be coaxed along by the two household guards, each gripping an arm. At the tree, Ah'zuli and Leanne stood uneasily, waiting for the ritual to begin. Ithko was uncoiling a long rope from a bag while Xadoran took out a bundle of pretty red flowers and began crushing them in a mortar and pestle.

"Satakal's Blossom," Ah'zuli whispered. "A rare flower from the Alik'r desert."

Xadoran flicked his fingers together several times, the sound of the snaps abnormally sharp and loud, and then a spark of flame came up in them, which he thrust into the ground-up flowers. Thin whisps of smoke rose from the bowl, and he set it down by the fire pit. Toren and the prince's men reached the tree, straining to set the heavy tray down slowly. The prince himself was nothing of the refined man he had arrived as; his hair was a tangled nest, his eyes puffy from lack of sleep.

"Where is Gro'shuba?" Ah'zuli asked when Toren approached her side. "She should have been helping you carry that. And what of Barentho? Where has he run off to?"

Toren looked queasy. "My lady, Gro'shuba has fled."

"What?"

"She and several other servants took off down the mountain a few moments ago. I tried to warn them against it, but they wouldn't listen."

"And Bary?"

"He is fled as well."

"That wretched coward, damn him! I knew that man had no honor in him. The blood of old Yokuda flows thin in his veins."

"Ah'zuli," Blane said, approaching the cloister of them. He was her nephew by blood, the son of her sister who lived at the estate. "My mother wanted to leave as well, but I convinced her to remain. She is inside, keeping the children calm." Blane's two younger brothers had never held a real weapon before, and certainly shouldn't have to witness whatever was about to happen.

"Good," Ah'zuli sighed. "At least I know I can rely on your honor. My sister has children she fears for; I can forgive that." Ah'zuli looked at her only child. Shaniera was arching her head back, her mouth wide open, trying to catch the rain as it fell. Her face grew more distressed with every swallow of water, confused as to why it wouldn't slake her thirst. Any hope Leanne had of them stopping this ritual was dashed: it had been over an hour since Shaniera drank the potion, and her symptoms had only grown in number and severity, not one of them being a side effect of a disease-curing potion. There could be no doubting the wisdom of the Ash'abah, which meant they would continue to have the support of her mother. Ah'zuli's grip tightened on the sword of her late husband, but she stayed silent as Salim took her daughter by the arm and led her away from Rodar and Hasan.

The juniper tree's trunk split about eight feet from the ground, and the half that curved to the side stretched over the fire pit. Ithko swung the rope over the thick branch and brought one end over, and she and Salim began to bind Shaniera's arms together. With the rope on her skin, the princess's eyes sharpened, and suddenly the daze was gone.

"What's happening?" She asked. She looked around at the Ash'abah and her family. "What are you doing?" She tried to wriggle free, but the rope had already been wound several times, encasing her arms up to the elbows. She jerked back and Salim held the rope taut, while Ithko moved to secure the other end.

"Why is she still wearing that dress?" Xadoran demanded of them. "Cut it short or cut it off, we aren't trying to set her on fire." Salim nodded, took out his dagger, and gripped the side of Shaniera's gown as he tried to saw through the skirt just above the knee. Shaniera twisted out of his grip and kicked him in the jaw, but before she could run Ithko was behind her, and had her stuck in a tight hug. She thrashed around, crying out, and for an instant Leanne saw a glint of blue in her eyes. Shaniera bit down hard on the woman's arm, shaking her head as if to tear the limb off, but her teeth didn't have fangs—not yet, at least, and the arm was covered in chainmail.

"We're losing her," Ithko said. She held her in place for Salim to step forward and tear the dress right off. Night had almost fallen completely, and Shaniera's body was little more than a shape in the dark, surrounded by the shadows of the Ash'abah in their black cloaks, but Blane averted his eyes all the same. Ah'zuli looked on as a mother might at a time like this, as did Toren—he had always treated Shani as if she were his daughter, too. The prince watched, his thin smile unseen by all but Leanne.

"Blane," Leanne whispered. The young man was just a bit older than her, twenty-one or twenty-two, and was just as fine a swordsman as his cousin. "We have to do something. We can't let them do this to her!"

"What choice do we have?" His eyes were filled with uncertainty, but it wasn't enough. "Leanne, I love my cousin, and I know you love her too. We cannot let her become one of those monsters."

Xadoran pulled the rope, and Shaniera was hoisted up, naked and kicking and screaming. A piton was planted in the dirt and the rope fastened to it. Then Xadoran gave the order to set the fire. Hasan looked to Ah'zuli, uncertain, but Rodar didn't seem to have any reservations and began moving the heavy slab. Reluctantly, Hasan helped him moved it into the stone circle, under Shaniera. The Ash'abah tossed the wood from the pile onto the granite. Whatever dampness had gotten to the kindling meant nothing to the salts, and soon the whole pit was ablaze. Shaniera stared into the fire below her, eyes wide with panic. Xadoran brought the bowl of burning flowers up, and began to chant in old Yoku, joined in by the other Ash'abah. He upended the bowl's contents into the flames, then reached for a pouch at his side, and sprinkled from it a fine powder that sizzled into green fumes when it fell into the blaze. Stepping back, he drew out his whip, and cried out in the language of Tamriel, "foul Daedra from Oblivion, begone from the realm of Mundus. Begone!"

When the whip cracked, for a split-second Leanne thought that lightning had struck, and then Shaniera screamed. The whip came in again, lashing loudly against the storm. The wind wailed in the rain. Leanne wanted to look away, but she couldn't. She watched the tears stream down Shaniera's face, and the red lines drawn one by one along her back, her buttocks, her legs. Salim and Ithko stood to the side, still murmuring that strange tongue of history. Salim's crossbow was loaded and in-hand, a silver bolt ready to kill at a moment's notice.

"Please!" Shaniera's voice was raw with fear and pain. "PLEASE, DON'T DO THIS!" She sobbed and thrashed wildly. The flames licked at her heels. The storm howled. The whip cracked.

Leanne rushed forward. Blane lunged to pull her back but she was already past his reach. She dashed towards Xadoran, intent on throwing herself at the man, but he swept her aside with a swat of his arm. Tossed to the mud, Leanne looked back at everyone. No one was going to save Shaniera. They all thought that they already were. Rain and tears soaked her vision, but she knew the garden well enough to get up and run through it half-blind. She heard her father call out to her, and just barely heard Ah'zuli telling him to let her go. And soon all she heard was the rain, and the whip, and the wails of the woman she loved, echoing in her head as she ran out into the darkness.