Mist upon the Marsh: The Story of Nessa and Cassie (8 page)

Chapter X:

The H
ouse of Huro

D
echtire was slow in the healing, but well-met in the area of assistance for the feat. Caramon scarcely did leave her side, and in fact followed her about so closely, that she began to grow exasperated with him, and took up a thick stick for exactly the purpose of beating him over the head, when he would not put between him and herself a sensible amount of distance. Yet he smiled each time she struck him, and was given afterwards nearly always a kiss from Dechtire herself, whose anger was quick to kindle, but also quick to fade.

Considering the weight of the onslaught from the Ziruk (which was immense, in respect to all onslaughts before it), Dahro took the liberty of communicating the event to Morachi. The response of the King was this: that he would attempt again to contact their brethren in Europe, who were most well-equipped for battle with the Ziruk, but who seemed only ever waiting upon a genuine cause for alarm. Dahro thanked him for this kindness, but assured his family, quite as soon as he learnt of the King’s intent, that nothing at all would come of it. In Louisiana they would stay; and to Louisiana, none would come.

Despite this sad truth, however (which Morachi seemed to understand, as well, even as he spoke in opposition to it), the house of Dahro was not alone in its grievance; for it was decided by Morachi that the house of Huro should for the time be joined with it, so as to increase its strength, and diminish its vulnerability.

Huro arrived at Dog’s Hill three days after the fight in the forest, with his fifteen heads in tow. This particular arrangement was decided upon, on account of the considerably greater size of Dog’s Hill, in respect to the dwelling of Huro himself, which was called Blue Bank. Be that as it was, however, the house was still quite crowded at an occupancy of eight-and-twenty persons; and there was much jostling and growling among them (most especially among the males). Some were forced to share rooms with one another, even – but all of the young women were so fearful of Nessa and her explosive temperament, that they refused (quite to Nessa’s own pleasure) to sleep between the same four walls.

Now, as for an account of the members of the house of Huro. Huro was wed to Pala, and with her had two daughters, named Abbin and Misha. Huro’s younger brother, Kael, was wed to Neim, and with her had another pair of daughters, and a son, named respectively Maewen, Elia and Dor. The last sire was named Gallow (he possessed a row of false, yellowed teeth attached to his upper gum, which served to unnerve Nessa quite effectively, each and every time he smiled at her; a gesture he made quite often, if only, it seemed, for the amusement that making her uncomfortable seemed to grant him), and had for mate Juna. Juna had borne four sons named Finn, Dirzt, Bax and Renn; and a single daughter named Nina. The pairing of the young men and women were thus: Renn and Misha, Finn and Elia, Bax and Abbin, Dirzt and Maewen, and Dor and Nina. Having lived nearest to Dog’s Hill, the house was already somewhat acquainted with Dahro’s people, and vice-versa; but while all the others made at least what attempts were expected for them to get to know one another better, Nessa convinced herself that she wanted to know none of them; and her behaviour demonstrated no less.

There had been no runs made at night, in the time betwixt the fight, and Huro’s arrival. So each night, now, there went a party of sixteen out from the hill, consisting of each of the younger members of the house. (Leyra, for one, was not pleased at this new effort she was forced to make; but seeing as it was a decree of Dahro’s, there was not much at all that she could do about it.) At these times, especially, there was a great amount of difficulty in adapting to their increase in number; and several scuffles even took place, between those who were meant to be protecting one another.

And yet, in the midst of all this trouble, there was visible a bright spot in the house of Dahro. As the day was close approaching when there would be naught but six months left until the joining ceremony, the females of the house were all aflutter; and even Dechtire, stoic and stolid as she usually was, had waited hardly even for her wounds to heal, before beginning the process of choosing and cutting a gown. The elder women tried mightily for an occasion upon which they could gather all of the young females together, for just such a purpose; but Nessa quite always managed to create an excuse some parts believable, for which she could not attend any such meeting. After a little, of course, her sheer unwillingness became obvious, and was frowned upon by nearly all of the women (Leyra especially so, and most vocally so, for fear that said obstinacy should in any manner happen to be traced back to herself).

But Nessa had no design so malicious. She drew out her disassociation from the process for long whiles, but ever managed to give in, just enough and upon just the right occasion, so that her unhappiness might not be realised by Orin. Dahro himself seemed the only one of the sires who recognised the truth of his daughter’s heart; but he remained silent on the matter, and as yet neither advised nor reprimanded Nessa. He was quite occupied as it was, with the activities which were customarily shared between the older males and the younger, in that time before the ceremony. It was a time, as they said, to guide their succeeding generation in the ways of the sustenance and survival of the Endai, and of the responsibilities of caring for one’s mate, and extending the blood line. Such things were discussed, to some extent, by the women as well; but the majority of their time was spent no better than that of an expectant bridal party of humans, concentrated on the subject of the colour and fit of gowns almost to the point of obsession, and on many other delicate matters which would doubtless, in the hands of the men, become quite spoilt and fouled.

And so Nessa merely watched, with sinking heart and stubborn tongue, as all of these preparations took place. She looked upon the bonding of the sires with the young males, and wished sometimes that she might accompany them, when they fled to the forest for exercises of physical training. Yet she wished just as much that she might have something fitting to say while in the company of the women, who plotted each detail of the ceremony so intently. Yet the number of women in the household had grown so much larger (when Nessa had never been much good, to begin with, at speaking what and when she ought), that Nessa could scarcely find her place to stand amongst them, never mind attempt to mingle properly with them.

And so, as she was not welcome in the activities of the men, and seemed not suited for those of the women, she could not help but feel that she had no place at all. She became silently angry with her father especially, for having so obviously recognised her condition, but for having also forborne to do anything which might assist her in her plight. She grew resentful of Leyra, who shone so very brightly amidst the excitement,
and who seemed to want nothing more than for the date of the ceremony to arrive next day upon the wings of speeded time. Rather as a consequence of this, she grew somewhat unable to either look upon or converse with Faevin; and in addition found that she was no less disdainful of her own brother and his mate, for sharing a fierce and proper kind of love, of which Nessa had neither sight nor understanding. She truly longed for a comprehension of such, so as to be able to please her parents, and so as to make her own situation less desperate and complex. She looked to Orin, and was furious with the love he had for her, and likewise with the love he assumed she had for him. Much against her own will and wishes, she became daily more hateful of him, and soon grew quite incapable of coming anywhere near him.

And so, in a word, she fell into a state of discord with the entire house. Surely they noticed, and surely they were cross with her; but they assigned her manner to nothing more than her usual temper and ill character, and did not yet guess at anything of which it truly consisted.

And yet – most especially when cursed with a fire of spirit such as Nessa’s – how long can one possibly hope to keep hidden the true nature of one’s heart?

~

The summer pressed on, and was met by no more ill event on the part of the Ziruk. Dechtire grew well and strong again, and finally shook off all physical bonds which had been imposed upon her by the hand of Arog. It was the sultry season of the South, and seemed only too fitting for the mounting passion of the youngest generation of the Endai. It was clear that Orin was not bereft of this passion; and he tried his mightiest to impress it upon Nessa, and indeed to share it with her; but succeeded only in increasing the distance between them. Leyra, of course, would not even speak to her – and Nessa could not say, with any considerable measure of truth, that she was neither hurt nor angered by this.

The small part of her heart where Leyra had previously dwelt, was burnt and blackened quite beyond repair. Even had she desired for Nessa to hold her there again, in the same manner as she had previously done, it would have been entirely impossible. Any love that had existed between them was scorched to a point past any sort of reparation; and though it still smoked, as a fire only recently doused, so that Nessa could not help but to sometimes choke on the fumes that wafted up into her throat, never again could it burn.

Nessa tried, on several occasions, to share at least a small portion of her soul’s burden with her brother, besides whom there was no one else upon the surface of the earth she could turn to with such a thing. And yet, due to a combination of his own mind’s state of fullness, in the face of his joining with his long-loved mate, and the knowledge which he possessed already of Nessa’s coldness for Orin (any more than such he seemed to wish not to know), his lack of assistance, either possible or attempted, was for Nessa even more disappointing than her inability to love Orin in the first place.

And that was the whole of it. Nessa stood each day in the face of what she seemed to have neither position nor part, and slowly her anger and confusion did grow, till there was nothing at all she could see beyond the tops of their monstrous heads. She began to wish, for the first time in her life, that she was not what she was. She began to wish that she might simply put her Turin round her neck, and wear it there until she grew so very
sick from the caging of the wolf, that she simply lay down and died. It became gradually less of a wish, and more of a plausible thought; and evolved even from that, into something of an unfinished plan. She locked herself into her quarters by day, and ran by night just as always; but was sure now to make quick parting with the others, so that they could not follow after her. She returned each morning to Dog’s Hill, all alone, and locked herself away again.

~

On a stifling evening in late July, Nessa lay upon her bed, making her very best attempt at a bit of light reading. In her hands she held one of her very favourite books; one which she had not read in some time, and which should have been, for that reason, quite enjoyable to her. Yet the small words blurred before her eyes, and she needed read over each line several times, before its meaning became apparent to her. Finally she rose up, and heaved the book at the opposite wall, where it created a sizable hole in the wood (just as Cassie MacAdam’s empty lockbox once had done).

She looked down with some surprise at her hands, which trembled and shook there before her eyes, so that she could not bring herself to trust anything they might do. She could feel the muscles in her arms and legs, shivering and rippling as if in protest of something. She staggered to her feet, and put a hand to her chest, where her heart beat hard and fast; and a moment later, with a deep growl escaped from her throat, she found herself standing in wolfen form. This quite alarmed her, and made her somewhat afraid; for she had not willed her shape to change, had indeed willed it
not
to change, but had had seemingly no control in the matter. She paced to and fro for some time, attempting to shift back to human form, but was unable.

Just as she was preoccupied with this certain strangeness, and her mind was quite entirely fixated on cause and cure, there came a furtherance of her fury and displeasure: a knock upon the door. Bewildered as she already was, it was no surprise that she attempted to call for the knocker to depart; but it was also no surprise, that the attempt had no effect. She strained every muscle in her body, in an effort to return to her previous shape, but was equally unsuccessful in that.

“Nessa? Let me in, damn you.”

Dechtire. Neither was
that
any surprise, really. For some amount of weeks, none had dared to stand before
that
particular door; and furthermore, to knock upon it. It was quite fitting that the adventurer should happen to be the one occupant of the house, whose possessed measures of both fear and deference combined were entirely negligible.

In the throes of over-exertion and frustration, either of which was beginning to take a toll upon her strength, there issued an involuntary howl from Nessa’s mouth. She cursed it at once, and stamped a paw upon the floor in hatred of it; but for all that could not retrieve it back.

“And what was that?” came Ceir’s call from downstairs. “I certainly hope that no one is changing their shape inside this house.”

(Ceir had become so preoccupied with the maintenance of order in her now so frequently disorganised house, that she seemed ever on the verge of a manic episode.)

“Nothing wrong,” answered Dechtire. “I only stubbed my foot. My apologies.”