The Great Darkening (Epic of Haven Trilogy) (42 page)

“Come on, Cal, let us not discover what happens to those who wander off and find themselves left alone or lost,” Deryn urged.

With that, Cal ran to catch up with the remaining host of Haven. The company wound its way up the immaculately groomed hillside towards the marble-columned manse on the top of the hill. Hundreds of men, still holding mirrored looking glasses, lined the long, shelled pathway from the shoreline all the way up to the top of the hill without a break in their eerie chain. Though some of the men of the first colony saw this as a display of honor and hospitality, there were yet a few in the company that sensed the danger that brooded just below the facade of courtesy.

“Yasen,” Cal whispered at his friend.

The chief of the woodcutters met his gaze without responding to his words, for he too did not wholly trust that the dark-eyed servants of this Lady Morana were robbed of their ears.

“Yasen, I do not—” Cal bit back his words, for just as he was about to voice his fears, one of the shirtless men turned his now yellow-eyed gaze to the whispered conversation. Cal swallowed hard, and the palms of his hands began to sweat; he had the sickening feeling that they were a flock being led to slaughter. All of his brothers were strangers in this strange land, and they had the undeniable appearance, here on the path surrounded by the servants of the isle, of being hunted and herded all at the same time.

Yasen gave him a knowing look and then lifted his finger to his mouth in a silent warning not to speak in the presence of these men. Cal nodded in agreement, but turned around to take full stock of the pathway that had brought them there. Something inside of him knew that he might be leaving this place with great haste, that he might need to know the shortest way back to the ship.

“Hail, men of Haven!” the voice of the young boy rang out, addressing the company. “Welcome to the Isle
Dušana
, and welcome now to the home and manse of Morana, Lady of the Isle.”

Another man, whose eyes flashed yellow the very moment that the young boy’s went dark again, spoke out and continued to address the company. “Our lady has seen fit to welcome you with a great and elaborate feast. Her table is prepared with barrels of spring wine and spits of roasted meats; every fruit of the great ocean is yours to feast upon. Cheeses and whipped butters, honeyed cakes and ripe olives, spiced mead and a bounty of warm bread is yours for the taking.”

A third man spoke, his eyes now glowing with the same haunting yellow. “Our lady begs you to take your fill and dull away your water-weary senses with food fit for a king. There will be time enough on the morrow to mend your storm-tossed ship, but for tonight … please, feast and fill.”

“Your lady’s hospitality is most generous, and for that, the men of my company and I will be eternally grateful,” Seig said to the last man.

The eyes of the first man flittered back to yellow before he spoke. “That is her only desire, Governor.”

“When will I have the pleasure of thanking this gracious hostess of ours?” Seig asked.

“You will have to wait not a moment longer,” the sultry voice of a woman spoke out from beneath the shadows of the columned porch.

Chapter Forty-Six

“M
y
lady?” Seig asked the hidden voice.

“I do so hope to be,” she said.

Just then, each shirtless man turned, one at a time but with great speed, to face and point the reflecting light of his mirrored looking glass in the direction of the porch. The amber light shifted to illuminate the portico of the columned mansion, and its concentrated brightness revealed a shocking sight. There, dressed in the thinnest gown of pearlescent silk, stood the Lady Morana, mistress of the isle. Her flaxen hair hung round her milky white skin in luscious ringlets of pristine symmetry. She approached the company of men with a gait that made her appear to glide over the ground instead of merely walking upon it.

With each movement of her hips and sway of her breasts, the whole of the company came under the intoxicating power of her sensual beauty. “Come, come please, gentlemen,” she said while lifting her slender, perfectly manicured hands and pursing her scarlet lips. “For I have slaved long and prepared all of this in your honor, and it would certainly be a travesty to let this meal turn,” she fixed her hypnotic stare on the now kneeling governor, “cold. Wouldn’t you agree, brave Governor?”

Seig’s cheeks flushed with the red of barely-tempered lust. Flustered and a bit embarrassed, he replied, “Why of course, my lady, that would be a travesty in the worst way possible.”

“Oh, Governor,” she purred as she took his arm. “You are too sweet. I could just … well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves now,” she said with a wry smile.

Seig smiled the stupid grin of an unaware lover who had just walked into a most deadly entrapment. It took a great deal of effort, but when he finally managed to tear his eyes away from the lady of the isle, he addressed his men. “Well, come on then, let us not keep this—um—
delicious
gifting of our gracious hostess waiting any longer!”

Morana led Seig and the company of his men into the great hall of her columned mansion. The walls of the interior were lined, floor to ceiling, with mirrored glass, and the room glowed with the last remaining illumination of the day’s fading amber light.

There in the center of the great room stood the most elaborately set table that any of them had ever seen. This single table was long enough to seat the full company of sixty men, and wide enough to hold the mountains of delectable fare that were piled high upon its center. When the men of the first colony had first laid eyes on the lady of the isle, a guarded suspicion had been heavy on the minds of the wisest of the company. But the longer they spent in the radiance of her seductive beauty and the more they listened to her alluring voice, the less their suspicions, and all other thoughts for that matter, seemed to exist in their consciousness. The men laughed and cheered, for they had never seen a spread of food this fine in all of their days, and their lips were desperately thirsty to taste the barrels of spiced meads and spring wines.

“Sit and eat, tired men of Haven. Drink away the sorrows of the cruel seas and let your mind wander to prettier thoughts.” Morana laughed as she ordered the men about in a most irresistible sort of way.

The room exploded with merriment, and soon the men were all feasting and singing and telling exaggerated tales of exaggerated feats. Seig was taken by the arm and led by the Lady Morana to the head of the table, where two chairs made of polished oyster shells had been prepared by the throng of shirtless servants. When they had taken their seats, Seig and Morana in turn had their chairs pushed comfortably to the table by her servant men. Soon a harpist came near the hearth at the center of the eastern veranda. His hair was curled and grey, though his eyes shown yellow in the now silver light that was reflected in the mirrored hall.

Music filled the merriment, and the minds of the men of the first colony were slowly but deliberately dulled by the pleasant assault on their senses.

“My lady, my beautiful Lady Morana,” said the young first mate of the sunken Resolve, finding a bold voice amidst the crowd of lustful sailors and soldiers. “I have seen and experienced much loss in these last dark days, and you are the brightest beauty that my weary heart has ever beheld. May I but have a single dance with the lady of the isle to lift my still grieving spirits?” he asked in an overly dramatic yet playful way.

“Why of course, it would be my
pleasure
,” she said while taking his hand and leading him to the marble floor beyond the musician servant.

The music of the harpist rang through the mirrored hall of
Dušana
, and the Lady Morana danced and laughed as the young first mate twirled her about in great ecstasy. He was a talented and spirited dancer in his own right, and many a night afloat at sea he had danced to the songs of the crewmen. But here, in the arms of a woman whose very presence dripped with provocative allure, he danced more magnificently and more passionately than ever before, or ever again. When the song finished and the two dancers bowed to each other, the half-drunken men let out a hearty applause.

At the prodding and howls of the men, the two of them took another bow. “Thank you, my lady, but I fear my heart will never be satisfied with the empty melodies of halfhearted music until my feet dance in time with yours again,” he said as he kissed her delicate, milky-white hand.

“Well then, perhaps you might take
this
little song with you on your journey, so as to warm your spirit, and quicken those lonely pulsings of your heart,” Morana said. She took his head in her hands and kissed him a bit deeper and more greedily than any had ever expected. The first mate’s eyes went wide in excitement and remained that way until Morana’s lips parted from his own. He stood there, still as a stone in utter amazement. Morana gave him a deeply satisfied smile and wiped the moisture from her lips with her fingers.

The men howled and hooted, begging for their own kisses and their own dances, but Morana just smiled and sat back down at the head of the table with the governor.

“Why is he still standing there like that?” Cal leaned over and whispered to Yasen.

“You just wait, brother,” Yasen laughed. “If you get the pleasure of kissing a woman half as beautiful as the Lady Morana, well … I suspect that your feet will have forgotten how to work too!”

Cal laughed and smiled in return. “Perhaps you are right, brother! Perhaps I might get a bit of the luck that our friend has had this evening!”

More wine and mead was passed, and more goblets were filled and then drained, yet still the first mate stood motionless on the marble floor of the great-mirrored hall.

“Cal!” whispered Deryn. “I do not trust this place, or that witch of a woman. There is evil underneath all of this merriment. Remember? You said it yourself.”

“Do not concern yourself with the things of men, my friend,” Cal said, doing his best to brush away the worry of the Sprite. “For how could there be evil when such a charming and pleasant woman governs this land?”

“I may not be human, but it is plain enough to see that your wits have been dulled beyond the point of foolishness,” Deryn growled with infuriated frustration.

From across the table, the Lady Morana saw the argument between Cal and the Sprite, and she knew that she must act swiftly, before the charms of her wine and winsome beauty wore off in the waning of the evening. The flaxen-haired seductress glided around the table and made her way over to where the handsome groomsman sat. The men of the first colony laughed and jeered as Cal’s face turned a bright red color when the lady of the isle proposed a dance.

“I … I would be honored, I mean, I would like … nothing more,” Cal tried to sound charming, but the best he could manage was a stumbling attempt at communication.

As Morana laughed, her siren-like voice carried across the room like the fog of summer’s morning, and all who heard her honeyed timbre came under the spell of deepened desire for her. “My dear Calarmindon, let me show you what real honor feels like.”

“But my lady, we can’t dance,” Cal reasoned playfully.

“Oh?” she asked.

“It would seem that not only have you stolen this young man’s heart, but you have taken away his will to walk away from the very dance floor where his lips met yours.” Cal spoke in a flirtatious tone, now feeling a bit more confident here in her mesmerizing presence.

“Well, we will have to do something about that now, will we not?” she said with a smile.

At the moment the words left her lips, the music stopped. The first mate turned and walked away from the marble dance floor, taking his place at the table.

“Well now, it looks like we have had a bit of fortune fall our way, wouldn’t you agree? Calarmindon?” Morana murmured his name in an irresistible purr as she reached her hand out and placed it on Cal’s shoulder.

“Look at his eyes! Look at his
eyes
!” a small voice whispered from inside Cal’s cloak. But Cal couldn’t move his gaze to see anything but the intoxicatingly inviting form of the lady waiting for him to join her.

“Aren’t you just the luckiest one of us all?” Pyrrhus drunkenly and altogether obnoxiously proclaimed as he took a chair next to the first mate. So sudden was the inebriated outburst that the Lady Morana momentarily forgot her preoccupation with the groomsman. “What did she taste like, lad? I’ll wager it was like honeyed wine and dragon fruits! Huh? Am I right? You lucky bastard, you!”

The stunned sailor stared straight ahead, the life and color drained from his eyes. No longer did they look human; all that remained was a dark death.

A sobering panic slammed into Pyrrhus’ foggy mind, and as he held his goblet in front of his own eyes, a grave realization settled deep in the pit of his now churning stomach. The room around him started to blur and spin in the wake of so much mead and wine, and it took the whole of Pyrrhus’ wobbly focus to keep from collapsing under the weight of his newfound understanding.

“Bro … broth … brothers!” Pyrrhus managed to stammer out a bit too excitedly to the half-drunken room. “We … we … we must go! We …” he breathed heavily and rubbed his eyes, trying to get ahold of himself. “We must leave now!”

The room erupted in laughter and Seig added insult to injury. “Oh Pyrrhus! Don’t be such a sore loser. I am sure if you ask the good lady nicely she will dance with you too!”

“Oh but of course, brave knight,” Morana said sweetly. She let her hand linger upon Cal’s shoulder before she walked away from him and over to the ashen-faced, panic-sickened knight. “There is no need to be nervous, Pyrrhus. You won’t have to
beat
me,” she said in an exaggeratedly sinister tone of voice, “like you do your horses … I will gladly come with you anywhere you like.”

Pyrrhus’ eyes went wild, his chest roaring with the thumping sound of his frightened heart. “No! How do you … how are you … what kind of devil are you, woman?”

As Pyrrhus shouted, Yasen noticed the dark, lifeless stare of the first mate, and something inside him woke and clicked back to life. Dread-filled concern bristled in his gut as he watched the shell of this dead-eyed young man sitting at the table just two chairs from him. Yasen put his hand on the man’s shoulder and shook him, hurriedly trying to wake him from whatever spell had taken hold of him. “Are you alright, lad? No woman in all the world is worth looking that forlorn over! Come on, now,” Yasen said in a fatherly, concerned tone, doing his best not to gain the attention of the room just yet.

The head of the sailor snapped violently in a hard turn and faced the chief of the woodcutters. His eyes shone with the sickening yellow of the shirtless men and he spoke in a voice that was not his own. “Oh but she is, North Wolf … you should taste her for yourself.”

Yasen’s blood went instantaneously cold as all the hairs on his neck stood in fearful attention. He jumped up in a panic, knocking over his chair, sending it clamoring to the floor.

“These men of mine have had too much wine, my lady.” Seig tried not to slur his words as he attempted to apologize for the outburst.

By this time, Morana had made her way over to the knight, Pyrrhus. Seduction was her lone aim, and she was hell bent on having her prize. “Look into my eyes, fire knight, and see that whatever you desire is yours for the asking.” She traced her hands up her own curves, daring him to deny her.

“Away from me, you witch!” he shouted in a half-drunken protest. “I will not fall prey to whatever devilry possesses you!”

The lady of the isle walked the long way around the table in fierce pursuit of Pyrrhus, and as she did she happened to pass through the shadow of one of the large, white, marble columns that supported the magnificent manse.

“Look, Cal! Open those drunken eyes of yours and wake up! See what it is that is happening!” Deryn screamed from within his cloak, no longer concerned about revealing his presence to the crew.

“What madness are you talking of, Sprite?” he replied in a voice too harsh for friends.

Deryn could wait no longer; even now he could hear the toxic lullabies being sung to these foolhardy men. He shot out from his hiding place, and with a disproportionate strength he pushed against Cal’s face and forced him to see what he had feared since first landing on these godforsaken shores. “Look, Calarmindon Bright Fame! Look at the true nature of this enticing witch!” Deryn screamed to his spellbound friend.