Scarlet From Gold (Book 3) (12 page)

Marco abruptly pushed a guard out of the way and placed his back against a wall, then held up his right hand.  His memories of using the hand, of exercising its powers, were within his awareness again, and he made the hand light up, casting a lurid red hue over the scene, astonishing those around him.

“All of you put your weapons down now!” he shouted.

In response there was the sound of boots running in the street outside the alley, as more guards came to intervene in the disruption.

“You can’t fight us all,” someone in the alley said.

“Stop this now!  All of you put your weapons down!” Folence thundered.  “Marco lower your hand!  Everyone, step back from the brink of senseless destruction.”

Marco stood still, watching the women around him, and as some of them started to lower their weapons, he unconsciously faded the color of his hand from red to yellow to white, and let it grow dimmer and dimmer, then he lowered his hand as the last of those around him put their weapons down.

“Now, Marco, come with me to my home,” Folence’s words drew a murmur.  “You’ll spend the night there, and tomorrow we’ll convene a Council meeting to hear your tale after breakfast.

“Come along,” she spoke as though everything was settled, and without a further look at the others in the alley, she turned and swept back down the road.  Her guards paused for a moment to eye Marco, and when he fell into step behind her, they also departed from the nearly deadly scene.

The house they walked to was the pink building that Marco had previously met Iasco in, on the occasion of his first visit to the Island of Ophiuchus.  He thought of Porenn as he passed through the hall where he had fought off the first ambush he had faced on the island, and then he followed Folence upstairs to the upper floor.

“This will be our guest’s room,” Folence indicated to her trailing guards as they passed a door.  “Have a guard placed at the door immediately, and allow no one except Marco to enter or leave.”

She walked on, and stood at another door, waiting for several seconds until Marco realized he was expected to open the door for her.

“Have a seat, Marco,” she waved at a table and chairs inside the room they entered.  “I’ll be back in a minute.  Would you like some dinner?”

“Yes, please,” Marco answered quietly, though he wanted to shout his answer as he realized he was starving as soon as he heard the question.  He waited until Folence and her guard left the room, then he lifted his foot and looked at the painful bottom.  There was a clearly visible jagged cut from whatever debris he had stepped on in the alley.

He suddenly remembered the alchemy items he had carried as a gift from Algornia, the gift that had been given to him so many months earlier.  He opened the ragged, tattered bag that he still carried, and he paused as he marveled at the notion that the rips that shredded the bag were the result of the battle he had survived when he had faced the awful creature – the mother of all monsters.

After a deep breath as he recollected the battle, the first moment he had had to reflect on the restored memories that were swirling about within his mind, he reached into the bag and pulled out an object.  It was one of the scales of the monster, one of the very artifacts he had traveled so very far to find.  The scale was beautiful, in its own way – deep, deep black, and a luster that was so shiny he could see his own reflection in it.

“What are you looking at, my problem child?” Folence re-entered the room, followed by a servant carrying a tray of food.

Marco wordlessly handed the object to the leader of the Order of Ophiuchus.

“This is what I was sent to gather.  The spirit of the island,” he paused, as he suddenly connected the mysterious voice he had heard in the caverns of the island with the beautiful woman who had stepped out of the tapestry in the holy cathedral at Compostela.  “The spirit sent me out months ago to get a scale from the Echidna, to be able to use it to undo the evil of the prophecy.

“And I’m going to use this scale to revive Iasco,” he finished telling Folence, as he repacked the scale into the bag.

She sat in stunned silence.

“How did she die?” Marco asked.  “I saw her in the fall, when I was here having my back healed.”  Folence nodded as she remembered his terrible injury. 

“She was attacked by men who were disguised as women.  They arrived on a boat of pilgrims, and came into the city, no weapons visible; they had them hidden in their luggage.  There were a dozen of them, and they rushed her in the streets.  They overwhelmed her guards, and they butchered her in a matter of moments.”

“Who were they?  Why did they do it?  How did men manage to fool the women of the island?” Marco asked sorrowfully as he reached for a piece of bread.

“We don’t know,” Folence answered.  “The village was outraged, and slaughtered them all, so there was no one to question.  But they fulfilled the prophecy, which told that the Lady at the head of the cult would be killed after a man first stepped on the island, and her death would foretell the beginning of a terrible conflict.”

“How did so many men sneak onto the island?” Marco repeated in astonishment.

“Someone went to a lot of trouble to make them appear to be women,” Folence answered.  “Of course I was in Barcelon when it all happened, but I’m told that they had their male organ removed, and things stuffed under the flesh of their chests, just to make them appear feminine enough to infiltrate the island and carry out their suicide mission.

“Can you imagine?” she asked.

“So how do you think you can revive a dead woman, a woman who’s been in her crypt for weeks and weeks?” Folence asked.

“I don’t know yet,” Marco answered.  “But the spirit said that I would find out.”

“This spirit, do you have regular chats?  Share a cup of tea every morning?” Folence asked sarcastically as Marco took another bite of food.  “Tell me how this works.”

And so Marco told the story of what happened in the cathedral, mesmerizing Folence as he told the tale.

“You actually talked to the embodiment of the island?” Folence asked as Marco ate.

“That’s how it happened,” Marco closed his eyes as he tried to remember the stunning beauty of the spirit.  Instead, there came to his mind a memory of Mirra as he had seen her during his short, amnesiac visit to the castle at Sant Jeroni.  She had been confused and hurt by his behavior, and he let out a great sigh at the recollection.  He had seen her, and he hadn’t been able to tell her how much he loved her.

“What else has happened to you?” Folence asked.  “You fought an invincible monster, and you met a living spirit?”

“I visited a secret valley of pixies, I found the way to the library at Clovis, and I walked through the underworld,” Marco said.  “I drank the water of Lethe and lost all my memories until I came back here and found you.”

Folence shook her head, as Marco started rooting around through his bag again, pulling out a few of the random alchemical items he found.  There was enough to create a salve to heal his foot and prevent infection, he was glad to discover.

“Go to your room and rest.  We’ll have a big day tomorrow,” Folence told him as she stood up.  Marco gathered up his items.

“Thank you, my lady,” he said as he turned to go to the door.

“Don’t thank me yet, Marco.  The Council is still in a bloodthirsty mood.  I’m not completely sure how tomorrow morning will go,” Folence spoiled any peace of mind Marco felt.

He left the room, and returned to his own room, where the door remained guarded, said good night to the stony-faced guard, and went inside for the night.

Chapter 9 – The Trial

Once he was in his room, Marco sat on the bed and concocted a healing balm with the items he found mixed among the contents of his pack.  He found the items he needed, and slowly ground them together into a fine powder as he thought about all that his memories revealed.

He thought about Mirra.  She would have enjoyed making the pilgrimage from Lacarona to Compostela in the company of Saul, whose humor had made the trip more enjoyable than it would have been, though it would have been fun with Dex and Pivot, no matter what.  There was so much he wished he could have said to her about where he had been and what he had done, and why.  Especially about Pesino.

He thought about Pesino a great deal as well.  He sprinkled his powder into the wound on his foot, then blew out his candle and lay down on the bed.  Pesino had started their epic journey, in his mind, as a liability and a burden.  By the end of the long journey together she had been his closest companion and confidante.  And the strange results of his treatment of her blindness had given her abilities and a depth that enhanced her appeal beyond her attractive appearance and her irresistible siren abilities.

He wondered and he worried as his memories and thoughts moved on.  He hoped that his companions had made it safely to Persephone’s Gate and had exited from the underworld.  Kate and Cassius – he thought of them, and he felt on the floor for his bag of possessions.  Through the leather cover he felt the two remaining jars, the formulae that were meant to allow the two former merfolks to reconvert back to their original form.  He wasn’t likely to be able to supply the transformational potion back to his companions for a long time to come, but he wasn’t sure that they were in any hurry to change their forms.  Cassius was unlikely to become a merman if Kate remained a human.

And Pesino – he had a sense of intuition that she saw her own future being involved with Asterion; something in her manner and voice at the end of the time they had been together told him that she had a vision of her future.  Neither she nor the former minotaur were likely to change their forms.

In any event, Pesino and the others were in places unknown.  By the time his duties allowed him to have the free time to go in search of the location of the gateway to the underworld, the others were likely to be long gone.

And he would – should – follow up on the end of his adventures by finally returning to Mirra and Sant Jeroni.  He thought about the letter she had shown him, the letter that he vaguely remembered writing while he had been under the influence of Sty’s truth serum, and he gave a sigh.  Between the words of the letter and the appearance of his marriage torq, he could imagine what a heartless impression he had left at the castle when he hurried away from the people who were supposed to be his loved ones.

Fretting and worried, Marco fell asleep slowly, and awoke too early, before dawn.  He opened his door and found a guard on duty, who looked at him enquiringly.

“Will breakfast be available soon?” he asked.

“When her ladyship commands,” the guard answered.

Sensing that the guard had no desire to be personable, Marco shut the door and remained quietly in his room.  Time passed, and the sun rose, but no summons to breakfast occurred.  He waited as the morning passed, and began to grow fidgety, until mid-morning, when there was a harsh knock on the door, and it immediately swung open.

A quartet of guards waited out in the hall.  “You have been summoned to appear before the Council for immediate judgment,” the officer of the group pronounced in an emotionless tone.

“Shall I meet the Lady Folence there?” Marco asked, his senses alert to some tension among the guards.

“You shall,” the officer affirmed.

Marco acceded to the command, and walked with the guards through the building, and out into the street.  It was drizzling a light rain outside, but Marco and the guards took on no protection as they walked down the lane.  Nor did many of the observers, who stood silently along the road and stared coldly at him as he passed.

He felt like a prisoner being escorted to the gallows.  He reached to his hip to feel the reassurance of his enchanted sword, then felt a horrifying churning in the pit of his stomach as he realized that he had not strapped the scabbard belt on after awakening.   He did not have his weapon, and he felt a sense of panic, even though he tried to reassure himself that he still had the sorcery of his golden right hand as a means of protection.

After just a three minute walk up the road they entered a large stone building.  The entry foyer was filled with people packed closely together, and the guards pressed their way through to a large pair of doors, that they pressed open and ushered Marco through.

Beyond the doors was a large room, with a tall bench across one end, where seven women sat.  Windows high up the wall allowed the gray light of the day outside to gloomily illuminate the room, where benches were crowded with observers, who looked at three tables that faced the seven women on the bench.

Folence sat alone at one table on the left.  Three women sat together at the table in the center, and Marco was escorted to sit alone at the table on the right.

“Let the trial of Folence and the boy begin,” the center woman at the bench spoke almost as soon as Mark seated himself, with two guards standing directly behind him.

“Trial?” Marco questioned.

“Silence on the floor,” the same imposing woman spoke.  “We will follow the procedures of the court to determine the due punishment of those who are guilty of malfeasance,” she looked at Folence, “and treachery,” all the members of the bench stared at Marco.

One of the women at the center table stood up.  “Your honor, the charges of malfeasance against the Lady Folence do deserve explanation and adjudication, which may take some time.  The charges against the boy are self-evident to all, and only his sentence needs to be confirmed, so I ask that we dispense with that first, and then handle the other matters.”

“I am guilty of nothing!” Marco shouted in angry astonishment.  “Folence!  What have you done?” he rose momentarily as he shouted, before the guards clamped their hands upon his shoulders and forced him back into his seat.

“It is not your fault, Marco,” Folence stood.  “These ladies are fearful and angry, and have lived too long in their isolation on the island.”

“Silence!” another woman at the bench roared.  “You are impudent!”