The Necronomicon

Chapter Twenty Nine

I want to leave, but I have to stay. Trapped, chained here. In this disgusting marriage, where in order for him to throw me a bone I have to beg and yelp. I did not ask for this. But for her — if it protects her (and myself) — then I shall get through it.

For her.

It was this part of Eleanor's diary that confused Meredith. Who was 'her'? Was it Meredith herself - she knew Eleanor had not cared for Elder Hawthorne, why else could she have stayed in such a marriage?

Meredith had nearly finished reading the diary. She was sitting in the shade, her skin prickling with complete and utter pain, pages away from the end. Taking a rest from the tiring thump of her feet against dirt.

I will lay down my words, even if I know they are forbidden. I cannot feel this way — I cannot. Yet it is how I feel.

The letters swam in front of her eyes; she blinked, rubbing her eyes.

I am still in love.

Meredith gasped.

With a woman.

Her head swam with both this new information and weariness. She felt like collapsing into a heap of sweat and tears, and fiery red skin. Her boils were swelling with pus, a few bursting. Instead of mourning the loss of her pearly, pale, skin, Meredith stood up, popping the diary back into her knapsack, and began to walk.

Eleanor loved a woman. That Meredith could take in — but who? Her fingers itched to read more, but she told herself that only when she made it to the rebel camp could she let herself.

I can't believe I finally had the courage to write it out.

———

"We have to go to the marshlands, then."

"Do you think we'll make it — if she's somehow still alive?" Alfred looked at Pippa, serene. "He might have murdered her."

"We might be overreacting — but it's better to know."

"I wish that we could trust him," Alfred replied, squeezing her hand.

She smiled at him wanly. "Time is of the essence. And we must be quick while we are gone. If Frederick calls a meeting, and they make decisions, and I'm not here, the results could be catastrophic."

He nodded. "We'll be quick. And you're right. Dmitri is perfectly lovely, but he is weak-willed, and he follows Frederick's lead without question."

She was already drawing away from him to fill a bag with rations. "I've been saying it for years. We had a chance of being fair with Audrey and Eleanor providing input — but now, with his, 'new leaders' —"

The door swung open — and Frederick entered. His face was red, and wet. He had a streak of mud on his cheek.

"I thought you were spending a few days alone," Alfred said.

Frederick bowed his head. "I am. Only — I wanted to get some food. At first I was thinking of fasting — swearing off food — for a week to mourn her death, but Meredith would have wanted me to live, I'm sure. And I'll be presenting a speech announcing her passing tonight — before retreating into my hut." His eyes sparked as they caught Pippa's. "Why are you packing a bag? Are you leaving?"

Pippa smiled easily. "I was actually about to bring you some food," She lied convincingly, and Frederick seemed satisfied.

"I'll take it, then," He reached out a hand, and Pippa gave him the bag.

Alfred spoke reluctantly. "Do you need help carrying it?"

Frederick ignored him, wiping his eyes, and Pippa pulled him into a hug. "Her memory lives on. In you. In us. Now go — sleep. You need the rest." She released him, and he exited.

Alfred waited a few moments before speaking again. "I'll get a new bag," He whispered, and Pippa inclined her head mutely.

Outside, Frederick sighed. He wanted to trust Pippa. He really did.

But Alfred whispered too loudly.

———

Wind pushing her, so that she nearly fell over with each shaky step. Beating sun. Still, she forced herself to go on.

Only one thought crowded her mind, with every pounding step. It could only have been Frederick. He had hit her. It could be no—one else.

They'd met — in the woods. Meredith had slowly fallen in love with him; his words, his eyes, his manner... She recalled their conversations, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"All you did at the party was flirt, and even, at one point, if I recall correctly, fake an injury." He uttered plainly. "Amusing, I must say, but not especially interesting."

She turned the same colour as her flaming red hair. "Forgive me." Frederick said, and she turned her face to him, glaring. "But is that the same dress you were wearing at the party?"

"Yes, it is."

A playful look erupted on his face. "That makes sense. May I suggest that after this meal, you get into the river and wash your hair? And change that ghastly dress — you smell bloody awful."

With him, she'd imagined a future. A home. Children.

Frederick... had pained her: emotionally and physically. She wasn't going to forget this. Ever. It tore at her. She wanted to scream; let her screech reverberate from tree to tree. Instead she focused her energy on walking, step after step after step after step.

———

"We have lost one of our own," Frederick began, his voice ringing out loud and clear. The crowd let out a collective gasp — whispers spread among them. "Meredith Hawthorne." He paused after saying her name.

A "No!" burst from the mass — Olivia.

Frederick ploughed on. "She will be sorely missed. Meredith Hawthorne was a joy. She was the child of Elder Hawthorne and Eleanor Heartfeld. She died — horribly. A branch fell from a tree and hit her head. I tried to save her — I held the bleeding wound; but it soon seemed to me apparent that her final breath was approaching. As I clutched her lifeless body to my chest, she said her last words."

Alfred and Pippa walked at a fast pace, Frederick's words, faint, behind them. "Hurry!" Pippa told him, a half-step ahead of him, and he took her hand.

"We'll make it," He promised, and she exhaled.

"I hope so. If, as we suspect, Frederick tried to kill her, she must know something."

Frederick continued, unaware that, as the words spilled off his tongue, two rebels were searching for Meredith, scouring the forest. "I could not bring her body here. I've left her body —"

"We can collect it!" Olivia cried from within the mob.

"A moment of silence for Meredith Hawthorne," Frederick ignored her, and everyone fell silent.

No-one could hear Alfred and Pippa racing to the marshlands, or the rapid beat of Frederick's heart as he weaved his lie.

———

Meredith could walk no longer. She took a deep breath, her eyes bulging like a bullfrog's, and her chest heaved suddenly. Her legs gave out — she collapsed.

Fatigue. Hunger. Thirst. The three, combined, had taken her.

Meredith took shuddering breaths, her eyes closed, her legs still.

Her heartbeat slowed.