The Embroidered Serpent (The Crystalline Source Book 1) Page 8

  Scoggins had returned to sitting on his stool, hunched over, peering at the mask to make sure Henry hadn’t so much as left a mark of breath on the delicate mesh. Suddenly, Henry grabbed a large mallet from an adjoining table and bashed the old man on the back of his head. Scoggins, his last thought concern for his precious work, pitched sideways instead of forward and fell to the floor, a pool of blood slowly arching across the floor as time stilled.

  Henry and Nels looked across the room at one another. Henry noticing the mallet in his hand dropped it. It fell, bouncing on his foot but he didn’t even react, so horrified he was at what he had done. “I… I…” was all he could manage as his gaze found and settled on Nels again.

  In that moment it all became clear to Nels what must be done. He knew the laws of the mountain. Killing a master meant death for Henry. Black’s Hand didn’t have any constabulary like larger cities and towns—they handled their own. Usually it just involved beatings that they doled out to one another. There was no real theft on the mountain—no one had anything worth stealing, including wives. If any rapine occurred a beating was the punishment for perpetrator and victim, just in case the victim got any further ideas. Accidents happened when overzealous villagers administered too much justice and a man was occasionally killed, but no one seemed to mind enough to seek retribution. Unless of course, that man happened to be a master of such importance to the overall functioning of the ironworks, and the killer happened to be a lowly apprentice who couldn’t even make it to the foundry.

  Henry would be killed; and Nels couldn’t allow that to happen.

  The plan had formulated in his mind instantly. “Henry, listen to me. You didn’t do this. You didn’t kill Scoggins; I did. Henry, do you hear me? Do you understand?”

  Henry was still standing agog, his mouth moving but no sound emitting. He finally nodded.

  “Good. Now listen…Are you listening?”

  Henry nodded again, seeming to realize his older brother could fix this horrible mess; maybe he would even be able to stay with the masks.

  “Okay Henry, you are going to give me,” Nels reached over and turned Scoggins’ hourglass over, “until the sand has stopped falling. Then you are going to run out of here raising the hue and cry that a murder has been committed and that I did it. No one should be coming in here, so you should be fine, even if they do, remember Nels did it. No matter what happens Henry, for the rest of your life you just remember that Nels killed Scoggins. You got it?”

  Henry still dazed said, “You mean I’ll be able to stay with the masks?”

  Inwardly Nels groaned, but a renewed sense of determination that he had made the right choice filled him. Henry belonged here—alive—but, here.

  “Yes, you’ll be able to stay with the masks as long as you do what I’ve told you, which is?”

  “Wait until the sand stops then tell them you killed Scoggins,” said Henry as a little bit of life started to return to his eyes.

  “That’s it,” Nels said with a smile, hugging his brother.

  “I’ll do it. I’ll tell. I’ll tell. When the sand stops I’ll tell,” Henry began in singsong as he broke his brother’s embrace and pranced over to the mask. “I won’t touch you ever again. You didn’t like it. I won’t ever do it again pretty lady.”

  Nels took one last look at Henry and fled.

  Nels made his way quickly back to his house without being seen. His mother and sister would be in the kitchen so he wouldn’t be able to get any food to take with him. He would worry about that later.

  He did want to get his rucksack and at least one change of clothes. He needed to pack his winter coat and his sturdy pair of boots. He was able to crawl through the un-shuttered window with no problems and as he stood looking around the room he shared with Henry he realized he had nothing of value he wished to take except his bathing cloth. While Henry had collected rocks, dead animal skeletons, and his own baby teeth, Nels’ side of the room was utilitarian. No sign of personality. He felt a vague sense of sadness by that, he didn’t understand why, but had no time to reflect. Instead he grabbed his packed rucksack and crawled out through the window.

  He decided he would have to take a bow and some arrows. He didn’t really want to; he had never killed any living thing, but without being able to grab any food he knew he would have to eat and he didn’t think nuts and berries would suffice for long. In Black’s Hand, the women kept cows, pigs, and chickens for meat; the men never had the need or the inclination to go hunting even for sport, but Nels did know his father kept a bow and a few arrows in the shed out back. For what reason he didn’t know; he’d never seen his father use it.

  Hoping it would be in useable condition, Nels sneaked into the shed. It was never locked because it mostly contained junk. Better tools were available at the ironworks if someone had a mind to help themselves; these were mostly covered in rust. The dusty windows let in diffuse afternoon light so Nels didn’t need to light a lantern. He surveyed the scene that consisted mostly of cobwebs and dry dust, which made him feel a different kind of dirty than he usually felt when coated with ore dust or soot.

  He saw the bow hanging on a peg in the wall and below it hung the quiver with seven arrows inside. It would be cumbersome to carry the rather large bow along with his rucksack, but there was no help for it. Spying a rusty old knife with a worn leather handle lying on a workbench, he decided it would be a good idea to take it even though he didn’t know how sharp the blade was; he didn’t have time to sharpen it, but it could come in handy.

  Figuring he had everything he could even hope to reasonably carry, he started for the door when he heard a slight rustling overhead. Looking up into the wooden rafters he expected to see a rat running across the beams, but instead he saw a pair of diamond-yellow eyes peering down out of the gloom. The snake’s head dropped down only a few inches, so he could see the eyes more clearly, but in that moment, he knew everything.

  Somehow, someway that alabaster snake was responsible for Henry killing Scoggins. It had been responsible in every detail from Henry’s strange love of the masks to Scoggins’ casting him out causing that jealous rage that ended in murder to Nels’ own decision to take Henry’s place as the guilty party. Thereby causing him to run…to leave the Black Mountain just as he had asked to.

  As the realization became clearer, the snake had slowly been coming lower, boring its own gaze deep into Nels’ mind, letting him know the truth of the situation. And by the time the full horror of what he had done settled, the snake was looking at him full in the face.

  Nels grabbed the snake around its throat. Without thought, he yanked it down from its perch and wrestled it to the wooden floor, kicking up dust as they both writhed. The snake was strong, but Nels had developed muscles from lugging buckets of water and cords of wood over the years, and as he kept pressing his thumbs into the snake’s delicate trachea, he knew he was winning.

  The snake began flopping in a frenzy; its mouth involuntarily opening and closing so Henry could see its black fangs begin to ooze a clear substance. It took all the strength he had to hold on even after pinning the rest of the snake’s body under his own.

  Finally the deed was done. The awareness had gone out of the snake’s staring eyes. The gleam was now dull, a flat yellow color that reminded him of bile. He quickly released the snake as he jumped up off the floor and saw blood marks on the snake’s throat where his thumbs had bitten into the snake’s pure white scales. Not quite sure the thing could really truly be dead, Nels grabbed the dull, rusty knife and sawed off its head.

  4

  After telling Casandra his story, the first time he had ever told anyone what had really happened that day at the forge, he felt a sickening tightness in his chest. Speaking the words out loud were worse than all the years of remembrances, combined. He had often wondered what had become of his brother, hoping he had carried on with his secret intact. He had dreamed many times of the snake, felt its eyes in the shadows, knowing it was alive even tho
ugh it was dead. Yet, it had seemingly left him alone until that night in Parker’s Town, all these years it had been only a bad dream, now it wanted Nels to live up to his part of the bargain, whatever that part may be.

  He still had to pay for his escape from Black’s Hand, even though he had never married or ever had any children like the vision had promised. The snake had done his part, now Nels must do his. He wasn’t even sure why, what could the serpent even really do to him now? Death? He wouldn’t mind. Yet, even though it made no sense he felt the inexorable pull on his misplaced sense of honor, that he should put it all paid.

  Casandra had listened patiently throughout the whole tale, nodding encouragement, occasionally holding his hand. And now she finally stood up stretching, pulling him to his feet. “Come on, let’s get out of here and into the sunshine. Stretch our legs a bit,” she said smiling. For that Nels was grateful, he felt himself beginning to feel maudlin.

  “Sure, of course,” he replied quietly, giving her a half smile. It did feel good to be out in the bright light, even if he did have to squint, as his eyes adjusted. He hadn’t realized the fragrant odors of the barn had been so stifling until he gulped in a large breath of fresh air.

  “I still don’t think you should go back, Nels,” Casandra abruptly said. “After hearing everything, I don’t think it will help. You don’t know the snake had any control over events. No, wait. Hear me out. I know there is more to life than what we’ve been aware of, but I’ve never heard of any evil like that, with that much power. A snake that makes bargains and causes people to kill? Could it not have been the overactive imagination of a young boy who desperately needed some deviation from the bleak life set before him?

  “Your brother killed Scoggins yes, but it sounds like he may have been a bit off in the head. Forgive me for saying that, Nels, but it needs to be said. You did the right thing by taking the blame and leaving—you were never meant to spend your whole life there. It was under horrific circumstances, but they were just life events that led you out from the mountain to the forest where you really belonged. There was no evil in that, and it certainly wasn’t devised by some snake, no matter how unique its appearance.”

  Nels felt a flash of anger, how dare this sheltered woman patronize him. Think that it was all in his head, a boyish overactive imagination. Well, if it was, he had lived with it for far too many years to be able to dismiss it so casually. He knew the difference between the nightmares of dark memories and the actual sensation of being in the presence of that evil. How could anyone know if they had never been exposed to it and Nels was quite sure Casandra hadn’t. That would explain her easy dismissal of his claim.

  Oh, he was sure she had heard of, if not seen, the violence and cruelty men could inflict on one another, but this was something different. Impossible to put in words, it was only to be shared with another who had been touched by the evil themselves, looked it in the eyes and survived. Maybe he was the only one who did know what he was talking about. He had never spoken of it to anyone and had never heard of any like conversations in any hunting parties or taverns he’d been in. It had never occurred to him that what he had experienced might be unique to him.

  “You could be right, Casandra,” Nels managed with a smile. There was no need to chastise her because of her ignorance in the matter. Of course she wouldn’t recognize an evil that was bigger and deeper than just mere human frailty—would anyone?

  She smiled a relieved smile in return and asked, “You’re not going back, then?”

  Until that very second, he would have still continued in his insistence he return to his childhood home, except that there was something in her face…a slight look of understanding, maybe even knowledge that she did know something of what that evil was. It was gone in an instant and replaced by an openness that Nels found suddenly irresistible.

  “No, no I won’t be going back…yet.” He laughed. “But now I have no where to go. Unless you care to show me more of this traveling by Portal, that is.”

  “Sir, it would be my pleasure,” Casandra said grabbing Nels by the arm. “We don’t need to pack anything or tell anyone we’re leaving. It really is a wonderful way to take a trip.”

  “Hey, wait a minute! Don’t you need to tell your parents?”

  “No. They know I can travel, even if they don’t really understand it. They can’t do it themselves, and they really don’t want to. It’s almost like they know I leave and come back, but they refuse to actually see it. We never talk about it, anymore. Time operates differently in the worlds, but I don’t think I’ve ever really been gone for more than a couple of hours here—maybe overnight once.” Casandra shrugged. “They don’t worry about it, which is the important thing. I couldn’t stand to have them worry about me.”

  Nels thought of Mistress Whiten. She was used to him being gone for long periods of time when he was acting as a guide in the Deadwood. But, let him be late for dinner when he was in town, and she would give him a scolding as if he was an errant child. She certainly could make him feel like one during those occasions. So, he tried not to let them happen too often. Hopefully, for now, she would think he was guiding Langard Turkand through the woods until he could get back.

  “No, I know what you mean. It’s not good to have your folks worry—causes too much stress on the kids. Good thing yours don’t.” Taking a deep breath, Nels led Casandra to the pool.

  When they first stepped back into Sandrid, everything was just as Nels had remembered from his original short visit. He was immediately misted with water and blinded by the bright sunlight. He stepped on the marble blocks while carefully avoiding the waterways, and even managed to notice schools of red fish swimming by like sparkling red rubies. Casandra led him to the same crystal bench and there they sat acclimating to the very different surroundings.

  Even the temperature was somehow different. It was warm, almost hot, but without the heaviness one would feel during midsummer in The Kingdom. There was a strong breeze, but not enough to be called a wind, and it had a certain grittiness to it that Nels wasn’t familiar with.

  Able to see more clearly now, Nels realized that a great building was looming up to his left. It was also made of white marble, but instead of veined with blue, it had lines of black that seemed to indicate constant motion as if the breeze was blowing rivulets of ink all along the walls. He found the sight slightly disorienting and looked away and back hoping it was just his eyes playing tricks on him. They were not—the distortion was still there. To the sides of the structure were marble columns with great swaths of fabric in blue and red swirls draped between them creating canopies that added to the dizzying effect. He had a feeling Sandrid was going to be one strange place.

  “What is that place?” Nels asked Casandra.

  “It’s Javin Bone’s house. That’s where we’re going first. I want you to meet him straightaway. He’s like a spiritual guide to me.”

  “His house?” Nels asked incredulously, he’d never even seen a building that big. “Wait! A spiritual guide? What in the world is that?”

  Casandra laughed gently. “I didn’t know what it meant either when Javin first explained it to me. First, he’s like a father or a teacher, someone who is older or wiser than you are. The spiritual part refers to who we are. We are more than just flesh and bone. Many people believe that the essence of who we actually are is really an invisible force. We can’t see are true selves. So, even though Virgil is my physical father, he literally fathered me, and taught me about how to survive in the world we know, Javin takes on the father role as far as teaching me about who my invisible self is and how I can do more than just survive, but flourish and grow.

  “In a way it is more like a master-apprentice, teacher-pupil relationship because each enters into the arrangement willingly unlike a parent and child who have no choice in the matter. But unlike a master or teacher there is a deeper bond involved, since we are dealing with our true selves and there is much mystery we both must explore together. The
relationship is built fundamentally on trust.”

  Nels considered this. He understood what Casandra meant by the types of relationships, but he had never heard or thought of this “invisible self” before. He thought of himself as his body: when it hurt he hurt, when it felt good he felt good. It was one and the same to him. Recognizing, though, that he was sitting in a strange land he would of never dreamed was possible because of this woman, he decided to give her the benefit of the doubt that she may know a little more than he did about these kind of things. “I can’t say I fully understand what you’re talking about, but I am willing to listen and learn.”

  “Wonderful. That’s all I ask, just give me a chance to show you. And Javin will be a big help. He knows far more than I do. Shall we meet him?”

  They walked around to the front of the big marble house; apparently the fountain courtyard was in the back. Walking up the steps, Nels was relieved to find the sense of motion had gone, and was instead replaced by a sense of grandeur he had never experienced before. The double front doors were massive. They were at least thirty feet tall and made of some kind of black wood that had flecks of gold throughout giving one the feeling of walking through to the other side of the night sky.

  And what another side it was.

  The vast expanse before them was cavernous. The pattern of marble was reversed: black marble with white veins, and thankfully no visual distortions. There were columns down all sides of the hall supporting a double balcony that wrapped around the whole perimeter. It was preternaturally dark after coming in from the bright white exterior. Any windows were covered by floor to ceiling red velvet drapes.

  Nels noticed an unusual glow of colors in the middle of the floor. Looking up he saw a huge stained glass dome. Thick, plush red carpets ran along the length of the hall under the balconies, purposefully leaving the black marble bare to capture such an amazing array of colors. The effect was stunning. It was as if the light was dancing—the colors swirling, reflecting off of the polished marble at least six feet into the air. A living symphony of light playing right before his eyes. No wonder Javin Bone kept it so dark in here. He could imagine the sadness of seeing it disappear at night and the thrill of watching it reemerge every morning.