The Sight of Blood: Rhen's Story

-6- Memory of Shame

In the doorway behind them stood Asara in a simple white dress, her hair hanging freely around her shoulders. She stared forward at nothing, dwarfed by the wide white pillars that framed the entrance and dotted the room. Her wrists were in chains. Everyone turned, and when Rhen caught sight of her she opened her mouth to call out, but her mother looked at her in a way that held her tongue. There was deep sadness in her eyes, which revealed the falsehood of her passive expression, but there was also an unspoken warning. Rhen held her silence and watched.

Two of the edran priests broke away from the others and stood to either side of Asara, who began to walk across the room. People parted for her without comment. Some of the women bowed their heads as she passed as others began to cry. She walked until she was at the first step that led up to the rise, where she knelt, always looking ahead.

The envoy stepped forward, holding his head high as he looked down at her. His expression, too, was passive, but his eyes revealed a chilling mixture of satisfaction and disgust. His clear, soft voice carried easily to all corners of the silent room.

“You, who call yourself Asara. You have committed crimes against Delir and the Forest Temple.”

The woman didn’t move or form a response. Still watching her, the envoy continued.

“In breaking your vows and spreading lies to your sisters, you have desecrated the purity of this place. Only death will cleanse it. I sentence you to die, here and now.”

His words were only met with silence. Rhen’s mother did not even look at him.

“By the mercy of the Delerin you are granted one final statement.”

They pulled her to her feet and forced her to face the onlookers with the intent to hold her upright, but in a moment of grace and strength she shrugged away her captors, then straightened and turned her head toward the row of hooded priests. Her tone was calm and defiant, her tongue perfect as she spoke to them in their own language; a language she was taught to speak but forbidden to comprehend.

“Na’syrc ir crysen.”

Her words were met with uproar. Several of the priests pushed their hoods away, revealing startled expressions that shattered through their normally stoic poise. One even shouted in anger. Asara only smiled as she was thrust up the steps and forced to kneel. Through tears, Rhen saw the envoy kneel before her mother. He spent a lifetime folding the sleeves of his ceremonial robes, making sure that the folds were even and precise until they were a sufficient length away from his hands. When he had finished there was a knife was in his hand. Without a single word or expression he drew it across her mother’s throat in one swift moment of violence.

In the last moments of her life Asara, who had lived countless years in the Forest Temple, screamed – but it was no human scream. A wailing shriek, full of despair and agony, filled the room and could be heard from all corners of the temple. Past the walls, birds took flight and wolves began to howl as the sounds of anguish ripped through the twisted branches and seeped into the bones of everything living within the forest. Beyond that, even as far as the cities that stood just past the trees, in places no nessari had seen in a lifetime and Rhen had never heard of, the people gave pause as a collective shiver passed through their spines.

Rhen screamed too, but could not hear herself over the shouts of anger that had erupted from the edran, or the cries of her many aunts who were her only family now.

From the top of the steps, the envoy was looking at her. His eyes seemed to look straight into her, piercing past the others in the room as though they were the only two in existence. Rhen did not like the look in those eyes – she was suddenly more afraid than she had ever been. She ran, vanishing easily into the crowd of people who had already forgotten about her, the child that should never have been there, the memory of her intrusion replaced by the revelation of the nessari’s last words. Weaving between legs and a forest of clothing, she ran until she was in the courtyard.

The courtyard was empty and quiet. Behind her, Rhen could hear the increasing sounds of commotion from the inner temple. Men shouted and women screamed. The ground shook and Rhen hurried over to one of the stone pillars to keep from falling. She was sobbing so hard she could barely breathe, both from the shock of what had happened and her fear and confusion about what would happen next.

Celane stumbled into the courtyard. Her dress was torn and a small trickle of blood streaked down her face from a cut on her forehead. Panting, she straightened when she noticed Rhen.

“Rhen! What are you doing here?”

Rhen didn’t answer – she could only run toward the woman and throw her arms around her legs.

Celane knelt down until they were face-to-face. Her eyes darted back and forth as she stared hard at Rhen. Several tears began to trickle down her face and Rhen wasn’t sure why.

“What is happening, Aunt?”

The older woman stroked her blonde curls. “Everything is going to change, child. I’m so sorry.” She pulled her into a tight embrace. “Your mother was very brave. I need you to be brave like her.”

A Delerin priest appeared in the entryway, his hood pushed away. Rhen recognized the priest who had scolded her weeks before for climbing, but he was pale and sweating and his clothing dissheveled. When he saw that he was not alone he drew a knife from his belt. Celane rose and pointed a finger at him. Rhen gaped - it was forbidden to raise a hand to the edran.

"Come no closer," she warned him.

"That brat," he rasped, "is an abomination." He lifted his arm and began to rush toward them, but Celane directed her finger toward the ground in a swift gesture. Vines shot upward from between the cobblestones, wrapping around the elf's arms and legs and pulling him to his knees. The edran snarled and several of the vines withered under his touch, but there were too many too quickly and he was held fast.

Holding Rhen's hand, Celane stepped toward the elf, her expression unusually chilling. Rhen thought she saw her eyes glow bright green as they reflected the light. The priest growled and jerked his head from side to side. A vine coiled itself around his neck and held him still. Then it began to squeeze.

Celane smiled and leaned forward. "My sister was not the only one who remembers your shame, Edran'In." As the vines continued to squeeze the life out of the now helpless priest, Celane turned and led Rhen out of the courtyard and into the gardens beyond.

The sky was dark, though it was not yet midday. The ground shook again and they could hear sounds of voilence from within the temple. Outside, though, the sounds of nature provided an unusual sense of calm. Rhen did her best to stop crying, scrubbing at her nose and eyes with the back of her hands. She was frightened and confused, but she kept Celane's words in the front of her mind. Be brave. Still, she wanted to know more than anything what was going on, and why the priests seemed to angry with her now. “Have I done something wrong, Aunt?”

Celane pulled her close again. She was shaking. “No, child. Nothing at all.” Though Rhen could not see her face she could hear the quieted sobs, but when she pulled away her face was dry. “We have to get you out of here.”