The Journey From Oidhche Shamhna

Disclaimer: Not Mine

The Journey From Oidhche Shamhna

Chapter 45

Lady Grey and the Baron

Lawrence had searched the known magical centres, hoping that Helena had not been foolish enough to attempt to live as a Muggle. It was one thing to pass the day, to ask questions, to shop for food in the markets as a Muggle, but quite another to live as one. Simply lighting a candle at the end of the day could signal her death.

He sent owls to Erwin, making sure they did not search the same place, and cautioned the older wizard not to travel too far to the west, where his very accent and dress would put him at odds and draw suspicions.

He travelled to the large Madrasah centres of the east, the land of the last of the Slytherin, where he found the first trace of her. She had audited lessons, and sat on the steps of the University to talk of the lectures in philosophy with the students that gathered each day with the great thinkers of the school. She dressed as Alya, with shimmering veils that covered her hair and shoulders. She had been polite and distant from the others, always leaving alone and coming well before the others. She had attended lessons in mathematics and medicine, history, and even the religion of the land.

Lawrence spoke to all he could find that had seen her, until one of the instructors, uncomfortable that a male would be asking after a single female that kept to herself and watched her modesty, approached him as to his reason. He muttered a reply, saying that he searched for his sister. The rest of the month he walked the streets, staying away from the steps of learning, occasionally stopping to feel for magic. He checked the houses that rented rooms to women and sat in the market for hours, hoping to see her as she shopped. Finally accepting the fact that she had moved on, he did the same.

Unwilling to return without her, he relied on owls and missives to keep in touch with Erwin and Rowena, to learn any news they may have. It was the missives from Helga, that bid him to hurry, that drove him to find her soon.

In the city of Sredets, some months later, he felt her magic when on his way to inquire about passage on the river Via Egnatia. Following the tender traces that had already begun to fade, he located the shop of one of the many goldsmiths that had held a broken shimmer of magic. He walked in as if admiring the wares, curious as to what lay in the trays holding broaches and trinkets of gold. Picking up a small ring, he turned it over in his hand and frowned.

"That is a fine piece." The shopkeeper came over to him, smiling. "I can give you a good price, or are you looking for something to give a lady?"

"No, I thought this most unusual." He turned it over in his hand and felt the magic. "Mixed it is, hardened nicely."

"I added copper to toughen it, it adds to the colour as well. The clasp it was made from was old, too soft to be of much use."

"I would have liked to see the clasp. If you have another, I am in need of one."

"She had another but seemed reluctant to let go of it. Two earrings I bought as well. Emerald, they are."

"Earrings," he said softly, knowing he had found her. "I really would prefer the clasp. Do you know where she is? This woman, I would like to see if she will part with the other."

"Only one place takes single women to live. Up on the hill, north of the town, keep to the right. You will see it. Ask for the Lady Grey. That is the title she wears, but if you ask me she is far from a Lady."

"Emerald earrings are not easy to come by." He laid the ring down on the workbench and started for the door. "What makes you think her title is false?"

"She looks the part now. When first she came here, she wore finery meant for a party. No, I would guess that one is playing a part."

Lawrence left the shop and headed north, following the road as it forked to the east. With the river below him, he climbed up the steep path to the stone building on top of the crest.

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Helena sat sideways in the windowsill, studying the parchment the teacher would discuss tomorrow. Her eyes were weary, burning from the strain of reading by weak light. Laying her head back against the window frame, she turned to gaze at the river below the inn. In the evenings the boats' pilots would hang brightly coloured lights from the bows as they continued north, farther inland to the forest hamlets of the north. She would sometimes sit and watch as they passed, wishing she had thought to bring more to trade, wishing to make the trip north. One clasp left. Only a few months of expenses left in her pockets.

She had yet to find the spell to unlock the secret of the diadem, still to gain its wisdom. Helena had spent the first months of her journey seeking out the magical teachers in the non-magical cities. None of them could unlock the diadem and show her the way to the truths it held. She had received odd looks and sidelong glances, none believing what she had told them.

Now, as she sat on the windowsill looking at the gathering dusk, she sighed, not knowing how much longer she could stay. She let her eyes wander to the village at the base of the hill, and noticed a wanderer coming towards her. She smiled and imagined that Agnes would soon be greeting yet another male caller. Watching him as he slowly made the steep climb and got closer, she froze.

It could not be a coincidence, or a mere accidental meeting. He was here for her. She knew he had found her. She ran to the bed and reached under the pillow to grab her wand. Standing, tapping the wand in her palm, she slid it back where it was and hurried to the bench, took up the diadem, and looked around her tiny room for a place to hide it.

Running to the window, she saw him enter the courtyard, getting closer to her. She whirled around and ran for the hallway, down the back steps and out the rear of the building. Running to a small shed, she opened the door to find a place among the bags of wheat, and then stopped. She feared the kitchen servant would come for supplies, move a sack of grain and find it. She heard her name called, and ran from the shed into the woods. He called her name again, closer this time. He was now at the edge of the wood and walking closer to her.

She shoved the diadem into the hollow of a tree, turning it on its side and pushing it behind the thickest branch. As she spun around and hurried back towards the inn to confront Lawrence, she only wanted this finished.

"Helena!" He strode up to her and reached for her arms.

"No, keep your distance. This is not a Christian house, they will not understand that I allow you to touch to me without someone else present. We should not even be speaking in private."

"What God do they keep?" He looked back at the inn nervously.

"The same God, only a different son." She held a finger to her lips and walked around the corner of the inn, hoping no-one was at the windows to watch. "Now, explain why you are here."

"You know why I am here, Helena. Let us not play these games. You are coming home with me."

"I am free to do as I please, and what I please is to stay here."

"How will you live? You have but one clasp to sell. What do you expect to do when that is gone?"

"I will find a way," she hissed at him. "I cannot go back to that prison. Do not you understand? Here I am not treated differently, here I can study as a man, and work as a man, and if I want own property I ..."

"You are not like them, you are a witch. You cannot stay here! I will not allow it."

"You will not allow it? You? And who are you to tell me what to do?"

"Rowena has need of you, she is ill. Erwin..."

"Erwin has another family, and Rowena will be fine." She turned angrily on her heel to walk away when he grabbed her elbow and pulled her back.

"Helena, come with me. You will want for nothing," Lawrence said softly. "I will make sure you are able to study, to travel, to do all that you want."

"As long as I am a good wife? As long as I do what you say? As long as I stay hidden and tucked away in the magical world? Is that what you mean?"

"You could do worse," he said as he pulled her to him. "Much worse, and not be loved by half."

"I do not love you, Lawrence. I want more," she spat at him and tried to pull away. "Since we first met, you have known I would never accept you."

"Yet you let me kiss you, and you said you would consider me." He narrowed his eyes and looked hard at her. "Who is it, then? Laulen? That half-crazed one that lived with Mave?"

"He did not live with her, only near her, and no, not him. He likes to think I fancy him."

"You use him for what you want, of course he thinks that. What of me, Helena, do you use me as well?"

"I asked you for nothing. You wanted to do those things. You wanted me to go to your dances and to hang on your arm so you could show me off. Rowena's daughter, the one from Hogwarts, is that not how you would introduce me?"

"Did you not let me do this?" He turned her back to the building, and pushed her against the wall. Placing his knee between her legs to still her, he fisted her hair and brought her mouth to his.

Helena struggled against him, feeling him push into her, feeling his knee as it nudged her legs wider apart. She tried to turn her head from him, to bring her arms to his chest and push him away, but he held her so firmly with his body that she was unable to move.

He finally released her mouth. His lips hovered over her ear. "Come with me, I can show you things you do not know exist. I can make you happy."

"Let me go, you great oaf!" She pushed against him as hard as she could. "You fool, to think I could ever fancy the likes of you. To think that I would ever willingly want your kisses - they sicken me."

He pulled his knife, pointing it at her, and in a rage he stepped closer. "I will take you home if I have to do it by force. Then we will see whom you join with. How many wizards will take you now? After living with the Muggles? After spreading around your favours and letting any man who wants to kiss you?"

"How dare you?" she hissed at him. "They will not force me into a marriage."

"I can offer a bride's price higher than any clan has seen. That or I simply label you a whore and no one else will take you."

"You would not dare!" She hit his arm, trying to knock the knife away.

"No?" He grabbed her hand and brought the knife across her palm quickly. "Shall I just take you by force? Shall I just say we are already wed?"

"NO!" She turned to run only to have him grab her with his free hand and yank her back, her momentum propelling her to slam into his chest.

"You will return with me! Do you hear me, witch?" he snarled, watching as her eyes grew large and her breaths came in gasps.

He felt his hand that held the knife warm, with something hot and liquid. He felt her shudder as she bled out against his body. He pulled his hand back, bringing the blade with it, and slowly lowered her onto the ground. He held her, rocked her, and his voice keened out a wail loud enough to bring the innkeeper.

"Helena, no. Helena please, stay with me." He buried his face in her neck and sobbed. "I didn't mean it! My gods! What have I done?"

He raised his head to the sky and screamed a wordless prayer for whatever god heard him, to send her back. He felt her hand slowly rise to his face and looked down to see her eyes flutter at him, a look of surprise on her face. He pulled his wand and pointed it at her chest, to the place the blood flowed, and shouted out the healing incantations that he knew. He screamed for a Healer, for the magical stones. He prayed to the gods of his clan, and those of hers.

"Why?" she whispered, before falling silent.

"Don't leave me, Helena, anything you want, everything I have is yours." He kissed her face, tasting his own tears as the innkeeper started shouting.

"She's a witch!" he shouted to the small crowd that was spilling out of the back door. "He is one of them! He is calling to the devil to save her! I saw it, I heard it. I know what he is."

His wife turned to the kitchen maid and bade her hurry for the mullah as she watched the scene in front of her unfold, hiding behind her husband and spitting on the ground.

"Helena, no!" He sat back on his heels and pulled her up to his chest. Taking up the knife, he laid it in her still hand, wrapping her fingers around it. "Here, take this. Take me. Helena, do not leave me alone. Please, I have waited too long for you."

"There he is," the shopkeeper yelled as a man with long black robes came rushing into the yard.

"Pray for your own soul, my lad." He walked up to stand behind Lawrence. "Let her down. It is too late for her."

"No," Lawrence snarled. He raised his hand and unleashed his magic, slamming the mullah against the inn's wall. "Don't touch her, she is mine."

He looked around, feeling trapped and unable to get Helena to safety. He needed to take her home, to have her smile and tell him she forgave him. He needed to change what had happened. He needed to take her to Rowena and ask Erwin to bless their joining, and he needed Helga to make her better.

Again calling on his old magic, he held his hand over her chest and pleaded with the gods to let his energy heal her, to take his life and put it in her. He saw her head hanging over his arm, and the way her chest did not raise and fall. He saw her partly opened lips and lowered his head, brushing his lips on hers.

Then, deepening the kiss, tasting her mouth for the last time and willing her to respond, he took her hand that now held the knife, wrapped his fingers around hers and plunged the knife into himself. Knowing that a blade left in could staunch the flow of blood, he pulled the knife out and threw it from him, burying his face in her neck as he waited for the darkness to take him.

"Helena," he whispered, "I will take you home. I will take your soul home."

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Laulen was walking to the river to visit with Saul as a wave of shimmering air hit him. He fell to his knees and vomited into the grass, wrapped his arms around his waist and felt hot tears wash down his cheeks.

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Rowena sat with Kista in the small groundkeeper's hut as suddenly the door blew open, allowing a cold wind to wash over her. She looked at Kista, who hurried to open the back door to let the spirit out, and then turned back to look sadly at Rowena.

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Helga ran to Hanson, screaming at him to find the children, not knowing where the scream of a man had come from. She found him sitting at the garden, holding both on his knees as Patience sobbed into his shoulder.

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Alya stood and walked to the table, blew out the candle and put a cloth over the mirror. She did not know whose death was at hand, but it was surely a [Author ID1: at Thu May 13 01:47:00 2010 ]death that had turned the room cold.

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Gryffin pulled on his high-legged boots, slid the goblin-crafted sword into his hat, and without saying a word, left to bring her body home.

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Erwin looked to the sky and noticed the sun disappear behind a storm cloud as he felt a sudden icy wind. Stepping inside, he grabbed his broom, looked at Leigh, and left without saying a word. He needed to be alone, to go to the house of his father, to reconnect with all that he had lost. He could not return to Rowena until he knew what to do, and could not stay with Leigh whilst he decided.