I woke up to a thick fog that filled the inside of my head from ear to ear.
My hands were stretched out to the sides. Ropes biting into my wrists. Numbness already spread up to my forearms. And I was freezing cold again.
The world behind my eyelids was spinning out of control. My stomach spasmed in an attempt to throw up, but I haven't eaten in ages, so only a retching spit filled my mouth. A foul smell filled the air around.
I pushed the back of my head into the hard surface and fought to hold back a yelp of pain. Someone must have hit me, because the last thing I remember was pain in the back of my head, as it swayed forward from a forceful blow. And then darkness.
The pain helped to slow down the swirling behind my eyelids.
Where was I?
Staying as still as possible, I focused on my senses. The surface under me was cold, rough and uneven, with small pits and grooves. A strong, ancient source of magic was buzzing under it. Energy was scraping over my naked back. Seeping through my pores, blinding my nerves. And the feel of it was familiar. I was lying on an altar.
In a twist world gained back the sounds: fire crackling got interrupted by a familiar voice.
"Will she even survive? She's the strongest one we have seen in years."
"Yes, very good catch! If the ritual takes a little more than necessary, all the better for us. And if she dies, we have her daughter."
My eyes snapped open, and I lifted my head, looking around. Bright torch lights around me made a vicious spin. My neck muscles fell limb, head hitting painfully against the stone.
I closed back my eyes, thinking over the glimpse of a wide meadow I caught. It was clear of snow. Dozens of swords pierced dead, black soil, forming a circle around the altar stone. The blades were of varying ages and lengths, some old and rusty, while others were new and shiny. The black, oily liquid seeping from the places where the swords penetrated the ground.
"She is awake. Bring the sword!" I heard the pastor's voice again and realized it was him, talking so calmly about my death.
I heard steps approaching and couldn't help but open my eyes again. The Pastor's face appeared in front of me. I gathered my strength and spat into the man's face.
May the Morrigan torture you for the rest of eternity.
But I was too weak. My spit didn't reach him. Pastor smiled.
"We worship the purest form of the Sun, and yet, here you are, a witch, a servant of evil. You are a disgrace, a stain on the perfection of the world."
"You killed my child," I wanted to yell, on top of my lungs, but my voice betrayed me. I croaked it instead "My sweet innocent boy! Murderer!"
"You know nothing, Dagda's spawn! All you know is using your powers for your own selfish desires."
"Child murderer."
"I won't discuss my affairs with a useless vessel. Where is our sword?" he asked, extending his arm to the side.
Someone passed him a rusty-looking piece of metal, remotely resembling a sword by shape.
"Bruno! All is ready?"
"Yes, we can start."
Pastor Dion nodded and started the ritual. As he was singing and walking in circles around me, I struggled to understand the language. It sounded foreign. I had no idea what was happening.
Something started changing inside. My power rushed towards the core at the solar plexus. The magic from the source underneath me also started reacting to the ritual and seeped into my body where it was touching the stone.
First, it didn't bother me much. But more and more magic seeped inside. Extraneous, it didn't belong in my body. And it started to burn. As if it sprawled my skin from the inside. Glutted, my insides ached and stung. This power tasted like the air smelled - rotten. Noisome rills surging through to my core, intensifying the pain.
The spot on my hand started aching, too. But that was nothing compared to the blazing gnaw under my rib cage.
Am I going to die? Burst to pieces?
I had no idea how long it all lasted before I felt a stab through my chest. At that point, I didn't even feel the pain of it. Only the penetration of the blunt blade ripping my insides apart.
Dion started turning on the sword. My flash resisted and the pastor, slowly, with effort and a champing noise, rotated the edge inside me. But I almost welcomed it, because the stream started escaping my body.
The blade made a full circle. And all that left was a dull numbness. I heard Dion calling for someone to close the wound.
***
She woke up in an unfamiliar room with rich wooden carving, paintings and tapestry all over the walls. Dim candle light was bouncing on the surfaces. Shadows were plaing with the carvings of wild animals on the bed headboard. Even though the woman woke up, she remained laying in bed, staring blankly into the light timber ceiling.
"Oh, you survived, what a treat," a tall, balding man entered the room and approached the bed to check on the woman. "Dion will be thrilled."
He walked closer, studying the body, covered with a thin blanket up to her chin. She showed no signs of acknowledgement towards the man.
"Get up!"
As the command broke the silence, the woman started moving. She shoved the blanked off, lumped her bare feet to the floor, and wobbled up. The woman's face paled and grabbed the bed pillar. A shiver ran through her body, head to toe. A thin nightgown provided poor protection from the winter chill. But she didn't even attempt to search for a warmer gown.
Man smiled.
"Take it off."
He pointed towards the nightshirt and observed how she struggled to stand up while undressing. A waste scar was right under the woman's rib cage. Flat and pale pink on the edges, wiry lines were deep purple and elevated above the skin closer to the center. The rest of the pallid flesh crowded with goosebumps.
"Better than I expected…"
He approached the woman, walking around and looking her over with a possessive gaze. He stroked down her hair, yanking on a thin grey strand. Running fingers down, he brushed her collarbone and weighed her left breast in his hand. Then lowered his arm, pressing into the middle of a scar tissue, digging his fingers deep into the flesh. Woman released a yelp and bended over, avoiding the touch. But after the man retrieved his hand, she stood back up, like nothing happened. Face pale and empty.
"Sweet docile doll. Who knew this zealot would discover a real bonanza?"
The door opened and a shorter man in an unbleached linen robe entered the room.
"Bruno," he said, "I told you, I won't tolerate none of your games in here. She still has a husband."
"Don't be a prude, Dion. The faster we sell her, the faster we can buy new armour for your toy soldiers ."
"No. Atti is a valuable asset to our purpose. And until he is under the sun, you will respect the marriage bonds."
"It would take decades! Have you seen the man?"
"Sun shows the way and we follow. The previous smith died in a year. Physical strength has nothing to do with how fast they die, and you know it."
"Fine, fine, I will wait. When old meat goes, fresh ones come. Her daughter isn't that far from coming to force, either."
"Leave me out of your crude plans. Has Evi visited her this morning?"
"Yes, she said the scar will heal completely in a week. She can even bear more children afterwards."
"Great, let's hope there will be more gifted boys! They are so rare."
"You are a ruthless spider, Dion. Killing a child…"
"You! Judging me!? Shall I remind you that Fenorians are breathing down our necks? I know it, you know it, the High Priest knows it. You better remember that before he sent you back to the fields. Airic, dress up, and go back to bed."
As they exited, the woman slowly did as ordered. Her shivering body relaxed under a warm blanket. Peaceful breathing filled the room.
***
A week. He hasn't seen her for a week. Atti sat on the stairs of their house, gaze glued to the end of the street.
Finally, he saw Enoch. A slim, grey-coated figure shuffled behind him. He thought at first that it was Enoch's wife. But she was taller than Elisa.
When they came closer, he was able to study the lowered down face. Aric, it was his wife - he froze in disbelief. They stopped near the house. Enoch pushed his wife to take a step forward. Atti stared at a woman. His face paled as he observed the expressionless stare and limp posture.
"She will obey all your commands now. Be specific for the first couple of weeks, as they go really dumb right after the ritual. She might be completely numb in the first couple of days. Perfect wife, isn't she?"
He then handed Atti a long, shining, two-handed sword covered in runes. Atti stood up and grabbed it with trembling hands. Humming power spread from the sword through his hand to his heart and lower down to his legs. But he could barely focus on it.
"Keep this somewhere safe, where your daughter won't find it. Without a special ritual, it should only listen to you, but blood relatives might confuse the magic. Pastor will start training this Sunday. I remember my excitement to put the sword to use. Only a couple of days for you! Finally, we hold the power, right? But wait until he explains all the rules. All right, I'll leave you two. Enjoy, Lad!"
He patted Atti on the back before leaving.
Atti struggled to keep a neutral expression on his face, waiting for Enoch's figure disappeared in the distance.
Turning to his wife, he asked, "What did they do to you?"
Airic looked down and did not reply.
"Let's go in the house."
She followed, stepping stiffly, like she turned sixty in one week before he hadn't seen her. Atti went to hide the sword under the bed. As he returned to the kitchen, he saw his wife still standing right in the middle. Just the way he left her.
"Would you like something? Tea? I made some grits. Evi told me yesterday you should eat something easy on the stomach in the first couple of days."
But she just stared at him blankly.
"Alright, let's make tea."
He wanted to go over to the table, but stopped. As if it was a command, Airic left her spot and started warming up water on the already burning furnace. Atti observed her. And the more he looked, the more it felt like a horrible nightmare. He rubbed his face and pressed on his eyes.
"What have I done, my dove, what have I done…"
Atti collapsed on the chair, while Airic finished making the tea and placed it in front of him.