RHIDAUNA, The Shadow of the Revenaunt, Book 1

CHAPTER 10 - SOUTHERN LEUDRA (Part Two)

A dozen miles away from the brook, at the edge of a forest, was Sommab's humble cottage. The sun shone and the blackbird in the chestnut tree next to the door sang with a will.

The elderly herb woman heard its warble and it calmed her. Today was the day she would die. She had known that for many years and she had learned to live with the thought. This morning she got up before the birds as usual. She had cooked and eaten her porridge as she always did, and gone to work in her herb garden.

She knew she would die, but not how. Therefore, when the shadow of a small man in a dark brown cloak fell over her threshold, her first thought was, it is you. Your hands are my death. She was proud of the way she kept her face from showing her realization.

The man nodded. 'I need your help.'

Sommab saw his gray, sweaty face with the bird scar, and she knew at once why this would be her last day. Calmly she pointed to her chair. 'Sit.'

A sickly smell of singed flesh enveloped him and when he took off his cloak, she saw the fiery burns on his head, shoulder and arm. He staggered and sat down while she went to work with herbs and oils. While mixing and stirring them, she whistled. The situation tickled her sense of humor – that of all people she, Sommab, was offered this chance. Contemplating the fact, she looked at the bottles and glass jars; it should be a strong medicine. Mangelkruid and wilde duizelijn, she thought, and smiled to herself. The man would be satisfied. And by the time he wasn't any longer... she nodded. Then it would be too late.

She dabbed ointment in the wound and at every dip, the man moaned, from relief or pain, she could not say. When she was done and the man had donned his cloak again, she gave him the bottle with the remaining oil.

'Here you have enough for three days,' she said. 'Your burns should be healed by then.'

The man put the bottle away. 'Thank you.'

With deliberate ingenuousness, she turned to the table. She knew what would happen now. She wasn't afraid, but rather remarkably clearheaded, as if the Goddess held her by the hand. Thus, it was no shock when his hands gripped her throat.

'I'm sorry,' he said. 'You can't be allowed to betray me.'

Sommab sensed he even meant it a little. While her life ran out of her, the witch thought how wonderful the ways of the Gods were. That she, the Hamorth sorceress, converted to Kathauna's service, was allowed penance this way. Her former brother was doomed. The oils had penetrated his body; the process was irreversible. Three months, at most, and then the end would come: slowly, painfully and in madness. It was a shame she could not kill him directly, her vows to Kathauna forbade that, but the debilitating poisons that she had rubbed in would work for her. Her oath allowed her this revenge, because there was an antidote. The temple had the remedy. He needed only to submit to Kathauna and they would help him.

Too bad her tongue would protrude out of her mouth when she was dead, she though. No matter, she was already an old woman. Then she died content.

The thin man in the long black robe made his way through the crowd of visitors to Virmaul's weekly market. In his stubbly face, his red-rimmed eyes darted back and forth as if he was afraid of something. He looked like so many in the underclass: ragged, hungry and restless. A man on the run. But unlike the others in his position, he knew that his flight would not be long, that it would end in a horrible death.

For the hundredth time, he wondered why all his plans had failed. How could Hardingraud have escaped his trap? When the attack in Tinnurad began, the fool had been in bed; that Dar'khamorth traitor in the castle swore to that. He couldn't check; the informant died with all the other inhabitants of the castle. Such treachery deserved no other reward. Then the Haspen attack, right under the nose of the Guard. Curse that Lykros for an idiot - and that mountain lion. The beast killed Pardoc. It helped repel the attack. How? There aren't any mountain lions in this part of the country. What then? A beastmaster? Only who...? Damnation takes all of this! Suddenly he noticed the strange way people looked at him. With a great effort, he got himself under control, before someone warned the Guards. He had no time for delays; he needed Hardingraud's head. Maybe he'd still a chance, then. The Master did not like failures. He...