The Girl with No Name Copyright 2013 by Edward -EC- EC's Erotic Fiction - /~caligula97030/ (warnings: public nudity, sex between adults, corporal punishment, maledom, humiliation, war violence, occult, language) Chapter Thirty-One – The Destroyer’s Gold Throughout the morning, Danka sped past bewildered peasants as they lined the roads, staring at the gap in the distant mountainside where the cathedral used to be. They were so shocked by the disaster that no one bothered to take a close look at the slim feminine-looking guard galloping past them on one of the most expensive horses in Central Europe. The Bishop’s horse was an excellent ride, fast but very controllable, even for an incompetent rider like herself. In fact, the ride seemed almost too good, more like she was floating through air than bouncing around on a living animal. Danka didn’t stop again until noon, when she came up to a stream with a patch of grass next to it. She’d let the horse drink and graze while she adjusted her clothing and examined the contents of the Bishop’s saddlebag. It was heavy; full of coded messages, a Christian Bible, dried meat, preserved fruit, and Turkish delight, and… gold coins. Danka couldn’t believe what she was seeing. There were several coin-purses containing more than 300 coins. For the first time in her life, Danka was wealthy. She moved the Bishop’s possessions to the guard’s saddlebag and discarded the one from the Church. She removed a fine saddle-blanket with Church emblems from the horse and folded it. Her trip suddenly became much more complicated, because not only was she worried about escaping, she also was worried about safeguarding her fortune. 300 gold coins. What could she do with all that money? She’d buy land, lots of it, and put a nice house right in the center. She’d buy a library of books, and have a garden, and hire servants and guards. She’d spend long relaxing summers sitting under her fruit trees, sleeping, reading, and eating fruit. She’d bathe every day in her own heated tub. She’d never bother to wear any clothing when the weather was nice. She’d enjoy her body and her male servants would be available to pleasure her whenever she wanted. And during the winter, she’d wear the finest dresses and sit in the front row of church and go to fine parties with the wives of guild masters and city councilmen. She decided to continue riding west, in spite of the risk from riding in broad daylight. She wanted to start her new life as soon as possible, but she also wanted to return to Rika Chorna before news of the avalanche reached the eastern capital. She stopped only long enough to let the horse graze and rest. The meat and candy were enough to keep her going, and she supplemented the preserved food with pieces of fresh fruit taken from orchards. Her plan was to return to Rika Chorna just long enough to retrieve her bucket from the safe-house, obtain a couple of different disguises, and then continue towards Novo Sumy Ris and the pass. Four days later, Danka returned to Rika Chorna in the late afternoon. Both she and her mount were covered with dust from the lengthy trip. She entered the outskirts of the city and saluted a group of guards who returned her salute. She was very nervous the guards would more closely examine her and discover that she was a woman and that her horse was far more expensive than one normally issued to a guardsman. The Ancients continued to protect her, however. The men were distracted trying to extort an extra silver coin from a farmer attempting to bring a wagon of produce to the market square. When she moved past the checkpoint, Danka reflected on the irony of the situation. Those guards were worried about a single silver coin. Had they more closely examined her, they would have been rewarded with a haul of 300 gold pieces. As she moved through the city, the stallion drew the attention of anyone with knowledge of horses. Even exhausted and dirty, the animal was too flashy, a liability for a person who needed to stay anonymous. Danka realized she’d have to somehow get rid of him, preferably by selling him. But, how on earth could she find a buyer for the Bishop’s horse in Rika Chorna? She’d have to somehow take him to the western valley before selling him, but she realized there was not a chance she’d ever make it. She already had drawn too much attention to herself and people would be watching to see when she left the city. The horse would undoubtedly be stolen, probably with her being murdered as part of the bargain, as soon as she resumed her journey. The doubts about the horse expanded to doubts about the gold. To use the gold, she knew she’d have to somehow smuggle it over the pass and then find a safe location where, as a single woman, she could anonymously purchase property and avoid being cheated or double-crossed. She had to worry about being recognized almost anywhere she went in the western valley. It was possible she could buy land in Hórkustk Ris province if she could travel that far, but she’d have to cobble together small parcels purchased from homesteaders, an action that was sure to draw attention from the Royal Guards and the curiosity of the Grand Duke’s informants. She arrived at the terrible realization that, although she was wealthy, it didn’t matter. Her circumstances would not allow her to enjoy that wealth. So, what was the point of attempting to transport all that gold? She’d be risking her life over nothing. She arrived at the safe-house and announced her presence with those thoughts still on her mind. Zánktia answered the door, dressed in her nun’s habit. She was shocked to see Danka dressed as a provincial guard, but that shock quickly became irritation when she realized Danka had shown up at the safe-house with the Bishop’s horse. “You fool! What are you doing? Move that animal away from here, immediately!” “But, what do you want me to do with him?” Zánktia thought for a moment, before telling Danka to take the horse to a rendezvous spot behind the city’s church. She’d send a guard to take charge of the horse, disguise him, and get him out of Rika Chorna. Danka was enormously relieved when the contact met her and took away the Bishop’s fine stallion and exchanged him for another black horse. The new horse was much more ordinary in appearance, but looked like a nice, dependable animal. Danka moved her saddlebag to the second horse. She didn’t bother moving the Bishop’s saddle. Danka knew that she should have been upset, because she had just been horribly cheated by her co-conspirators. The Bishop’s stallion was worth far more the horse she had been given. However, she was more relieved than anything else. Both she and the Bishop’s stallion were much better off being separated. She did not have the means to take proper care of such a fine horse and she couldn’t use him or sell him without drawing attention. She had exchanged a horse she couldn’t use for one she could use. She returned to the safe-house with her new mount and led him into an adjacent stable. Danka unloaded her saddlebag and took off her guard uniform. With Zánktia available to help her, she settled into a tub of warm water and finally was able to bathe and properly wash and re-braid her dust-filled hair. Zánktia offered her a nun’s habit, but Danka refused it. When Zánktia objected, Danka grabbed a worker’s dress for herself and insisted on putting it on. Zánktia sent out messengers to gather the conspiracy’s members while Danka ate. Still dressed in the simple garment of a city working-woman, Danka gathered her companions around the dining table to summarize the Bishop’s pilgrimage and what she knew about how it ended. From what she had seen, the plot to assassinate the Bishop had succeeded beyond the conspirators’ wildest hopes. The entire True Believers’ hierarchy had been wiped out and their most sacred shrine completely destroyed. When her audience asked how she managed to trick the guards watching over the horses, Danka replied: “I didn’t trick them at all. They tricked themselves. When they looked in my direction, they didn’t see me. What they saw was their own drunken fantasy. With the help of the Ancients, all I had to do was play along.” Zánktia asked about Enockt and the men who were working with him. Danka responded that she wasn’t sure if Enockt survived the blast, but it was for sure at least one of the men setting the fuses did not. She ran past him while escaping, but when she returned to see what had happened to the church, she observed the spot where he had been stationed had completely fallen away during the landslide. Danka had not yet mentioned anything about Enockt’s willingness to sacrifice her as part of the assassination. Resentment against him burned inside her, but if he was dead it didn’t matter. Even if he was still alive, she wouldn’t benefit by telling anyone about the betrayal before directly confronting him. She was more interested in leaving Rika Chorna. She insisted her debt to Enockt was paid and she had no further obligations. “I’m sure a dead Bishop and a dead heir are worth far more than a dead nymph squad-leader.” The conspirators exchanged glances with each other, as though they were bewildered and offended. Zánktia coldly looked at Danka and spoke on behalf of her companions: “What are you talking about, with this nonsense of debt? There is no debt, and you’re not going anywhere without our orders. You’re Path in Life is to serve the Duchy, by serving us.” “You mean… I’m not free to leave?” “Of course not free to leave. What made you think you’re free to leave? That’s why I don’t understand why you put on a worker’s dress. You need to change back into your nun’s habit because you’re going back to the convent in Novo Sókukt Tók. You’ll wait there until we can reassign you.” Danka was speechless. She felt she was going to be ill. After everything she had endured, her only reward would be to go back to pretending to be a True Believers’ nun. She realized the group did not see her as one of them. She was nothing more than their servant. A useful servant, but a servant with no rights and no purpose in life apart from following orders and collecting information. Before she had the chance to think of a response, a look-out excitedly showed up with the news Enockt had just entered Rika Chorna and was on his way to the house. Everyone quickly dropped their conversation with Danka. Enockt, the planner of the assassination, would have much more to say about his victory. The distraction gave Danka time to go to the storeroom where weapons were kept and pick up a goose-egg bomb. She pulled off the protective covering, thus arming the device so it would explode if she threw or dropped it. She waited in the passage entrance while the others gathered around the outer door. Enockt entered, still wearing the worker’s clothing he had on the last time Danka saw him. The others excitedly saluted him and whistled to celebrate his victory. He froze and his smile vanished when Danka stepped out of the doorway, casually holding a bomb in her hand. “What’s worth more, the soul of the girl from the palace, or all the others?” “Put that down. Put the bomb down.” “Not until you answer my question, in front of everyone here. What’s worth more, the soul of the girl from the palace, or all the others? Then you can explain why I’m asking it.” Danka held the bomb above her head with just her thumb and one finger. “If I drop this, all that’ll happen is I’ll die, just like you wanted. Your only problem is I’ll die in the wrong city. Isn’t that so?” “The others, if you really must know! You're just one person! My concern was to preserve the lives of several thousand! But right now you’re still alive! So what difference does it make?” “Exactly! I’m still alive, and your plot succeeded anyway! So what difference would it have made to have the honor to tell me to move out of the way, since it was my information that helped you murder a church-full of people! Just a simple ‘move out before the Bishop lights his incense’. That’s it! That’s all you would have had to say to me! After all I’ve done, you really don’t think I’m worthy of a simple warning?” “It’s of no importance. You survived! You should give thanks to the Lord-Creator, not be challenging me!” “It is of importance! A lot of importance! I don’t work with dishonored liars! And you had better tell everyone here my debt to you is paid! Paid in full! I’m leaving this city and none of you will dare come after me!” “Stop it, you dishonored fool!” “NO! I will not stop it! I swear, before the Ancients I swear, I will NEVER wear a nun’s dress again, do you understand me? NEVER! I will NEVER collect any more information for you! I’m done with this conspiracy! I’ve paid my dues and I’m finished!” The conspirators glanced at each other. Danka knew there was no way they would let her leave. Since they were about to kill her anyway, she might as well drop the bomb and take them to the Realm of the Afterlife with her. Then she remembered the Bishop’s gold. She realized what she needed to do with it: use it to ransom herself, and in doing so rid herself of its burden. The gold, stolen from the hard labor of thousands of ordinary working people, was the cursed product of great injustice and evil. It would destroy anyone who tried to keep it, including Enockt and his companions. Still holding the bomb, she held up the saddlebag with her left hand. “I want to show you something. Once you’ve seen it, I’m sure you’ll change your minds about letting me leave.” Danka struggled to pull out a coin purse with one hand and undo the drawstring. When she scattered the coins across the room, the expressions of her handlers completely changed. One of the men bent down to pick up a coin, but Danka shook the bomb, which was a very risky thing for her to do. The conspirators hissed in fright and held up their hands. “That’s only a small part of what’s in this saddlebag. I took it from the Bishop. If you want the rest, I’ll give it to you, in exchange for a few trivial things. I want a longbow and arrows and some more crossbow bolts. I want a clean set of guard’s clothing and a standard traveling kit with unused supplies. As payment for my services, I want 50 silver pieces, which is a bargain compared to what I’m about to give you. Give me those things, let me walk out of here and mount my horse, close the door behind me, and we will part ways.” In spite of his desire to keep Danka under his control and punish her for calling him a “dishonored liar”, Enockt told the others to bring her bucket and the other items she demanded, including the silver coins. Seeing the gold completely changed him. He didn’t care about his informant or the insult: the only thing he wanted was the contents of her saddlebag. To speed up the delivery of her items and to prove she still had most of the coins in her possession, Danka scattered another bag of gold on the floor. She warned the others not to touch it until she was outside. The conspirators were no longer looking at her at all: they were looking at the coins. When she saw the greed in their expressions and the weird glint in their eyes, Danka’s belief the gold had a special curse on it seemed to be confirmed. Something definitely was not right about that fortune. She could feel it. She felt no remorse about leaving it to people she hated. Instead, all she felt was relief it no longer was her problem. She emptied a two more purses of coins on the floor. A couple of coins dropped between floorboards, to the dismay of the conspirators. Danka set the saddlebag against the wall behind her while she moved her bucket, clothing, and traveling kit out the door. She had to move everything with only one hand while holding the bomb in the other. She could only hope that, once she was outside, the others would be too busy picking up coins to worry about stopping her. “I’m sure you think I’m an idiot, leaving this fortune behind, or that doing you a favor. I’m not. I know for a fact this gold is cursed. The only person I’m doing a favor for is myself.” When she stepped outside, one of the conspirators slammed the door shut and dropped the crossbar. She went to the stable, saddled and loaded her horse, and changed into her guard outfit. She had been right about her companions: they were too distracted by the fortune to worry about pursuing her. She replaced the cap on the bomb and gently set it down. She didn't care who found it. That no longer was her concern. ---------- The disguised traveler rode through the western sector of Rika Chorna in the middle of the night. No one took notice of a slightly-built provincial guard riding an ordinary-looking horse. She left the town and emerged into open countryside. She wondered what to do. The allure of returning to the western valley had faded, but she certainly didn’t want to stay in the Vice-Duchy. She thought about the region’s odious ruler, its odious religious leaders, and the equally odious people who conspired against them. The sooner the Destroyer dealt with all of them, the better. She had been riding for a couple of hours when the horse suddenly stopped. He whinnied and backed away from something that obviously had frightened him. She tried to get him to move forward, but he shook his head and whinnied in protest. The animal absolutely refused to go any further. The rider reached for her crossbow. She saw nothing, but a strong premonition entered her thoughts, a warning from the Ancients that she shouldn’t continue towards Novo Sumy Ris. She decided to turn around and avoid whatever had spooked her horse. Life had taught her that whenever she had a premonition, she’d better heed it. She directed the horse along a country lane to distance herself from the road. She figured the animal needed to graze and she badly needed to rest. She had endured an entire week with almost no sleep at all. She crossed some fields before coming across a poorly-maintained orchard. It was evident the owner was poor, so perhaps in exchange for one of her silver pieces she could count on him for a couple of meals, a place for the horse to rest and graze, and a safe place to set up her tent and sleep. She changed into her worker’s dress, approached the cottage, and introduced herself as Vesna Rogúskt. A destitute-looking family blankly stared at her until she held out the coin. It was a small fortune for them, as it would have been for her father ten years before. Assured by the parents that the children would take care of the horse and make sure he was fed and watered, she set up her bedroll and tent under one of the trees and promptly fell asleep. She woke up in the late afternoon just long enough to indulge herself in some stew and half-a-roasted chicken. She wanted to resume her journey, but was too tired. She decided to obey the needs of her body and continued resting. She didn’t wake up again until the middle of the night. She thought about leaving, but was hungry and wasn’t sure she’d find all of her belongings in the darkness. She saw no harm in waiting until the following morning. She got up and went to the cottage. The farmer’s wife gave her another bowl of stew and a scrawny roasted rabbit. As they conversed, Vesna emphasized her lower-class accent, putting her host at ease by letting her know they were both peasants. The visitor didn’t talk much about herself, but asked questions about the area to find out what she could about people she needed to avoid, such as tax collectors, guards, and church officials. Vesna stayed with her hosts for three days. A heavy rainstorm prevented her from leaving on the second day. She was glad about that, because she realized she needed the sleep. Finally, when she was ready to depart, she left a second silver coin with her hosts. Might as well let someone have a good year, she thought as she saddled her horse and prepared to ride off. Vesna realized she didn’t know her horse’s name, if he even had one. She decided to call him Moonlight, since she expected to be riding him mostly at night. She would have to train him to respond to that name. She had no proof she was his owner, so the only thing she could fall back on was having him respond when she called him. ---------- Vesna resumed her journey towards Novo Sumy Ris and the pass. She changed into her guard outfit and approached the main road. She pulled back when she heard the galloping of a platoon of mounted guards. They sped by, carrying black mourning banners. In the Vice-Duchy, a black banner was the sign that an important person had died. It wasn’t hard to figure out the news of the deaths of the Bishop and the Vice-Duke’s oldest son had just caught up with her. As if to answer that suspicion, Church bells rang all around her to announce the Vice- Duchy had just entered a period of mourning. The roads were closed and anyone attempting to travel along them would be arrested for disrespect, so Vesna would have to give up her plan to return to the western valley through the pass. She remembered a possible alternative route, which might actually be better if it allowed her to avoid the Vice-Duchy’s guards. When she was living with the Followers of the Ancients and visiting the cave-charcoal mines, the elders had mentioned a couple of paths going east through the forest and eventually leading to another set of mines. Beyond those mines, even further to the east, were several small silver mines the Followers avoided because they were under the control of owners from the Vice-Duchy. It seemed the paths could all be traveled by horse. Assuming the information was correct, it would be possible to ride from Plátnackt Dék, the northernmost town in the Vice-Duchy, to Sevérckt nad Gorádki, the northernmost town in the western valley. Vesna figured the alternate route was worth investigating. Going over the main pass was no longer an option, and probably wouldn’t be for the rest of the year. Vesna avoided the main road as she moved north. She traveled along country lanes as church bells continued ringing all around her. She traveled at a casual pace, more interested in keeping Moonlight healthy than she was in moving quickly. She’d have to take proper care of her horse. She’d have no way of escaping the Vice-Duchy if anything happened to him. She had traveled about half the distance between Rika Chorna and Plátnackt Dék when a strange urge hit her. The night was hot and she was tired of sweating in her guard outfit. The paths were deserted, so she didn’t see any harm in dismounting, taking off her clothes, and walking naked for a while. Her legs were stiff from so much riding, and Moonlight needed a rest anyway. For several hours she walked in the dark, enjoying the peaceful night air and the gentle breeze caressing her body. She led the horse by his reins and followed a dark trail that was barely visible between fields of wheat. She ascended a hill, and tied the horse to a fencepost. She stood alone, trying to make out what lay ahead and what kind of countryside she’d be traveling through the next day. It occurred to her that she should pray to the Ancients. She received no answer, apart from confirmation she was where she should be and going in the right direction. ---------- Plátnackt Dék was the most recently founded of Danubia’s major cities. Today it is a pleasant place full of unique architecture from the late nineteenth century, located at the base of the Northern Mountains. However, in 1759 the town had existed for only twenty years and was a raw, primitive settlement of wooden shacks and ore processing kilns. The town’s name, “The Silver is Here”, reflected both the main source of income and the population’s total lack of imagination for naming things during the first decades of its existence. However, during the late 1700s Plátnackt Dék was of vital economic importance for the Vice Duchy. Its mines produced not only silver, but also iron, copper, and nickel. During the early years of Plátnackt Dék, small farmers supplied most of the food eaten by the miners. Landless peasants from other parts of the Vice-Duchy had moved in, filling the region with ramshackle homesteads. The area was poor, but the people had a culture of independence that contrasted with the tightly- controlled society of the rest of the eastern valley. That was not to say life was safe for a single woman, especially a young one moving about, because it was not. Vesna’s plan was to stay in the town as briefly as possible. However, she did have to go in and find someone trustworthy to ask about the trails going up into the mountains. She could not afford to become lost as she worked her way past the metal mines towards the cave-charcoal mines. She wasn’t worried about surviving in the forest, but she was worried about what would happen if roving groups of miners found her traveling alone. She was very glad to have her guard disguise, which she’d have to wear during the first part of her journey along the trails. Before going into the town itself, she decided to find a farming family with whom she could stay so she could reconnoiter the region and figure out the route she needed to take. She had to re-supply herself with food and rest Moonlight before subjecting him to a rough trip through the forest. She prayed to the Ancients to assist her. Shortly after she finished praying, she approached a farm with a garden and some fruit trees. An old man on crutches was outside, directing a teenaged girl and five children to weed the garden. There were no young or middle-aged adults on the property and it was clear the family was not doing well. The children did not look healthy, and the old man’s condition seemed even worse. The group was frightened when they saw a guard entering their property. The children instinctively clustered behind the old man and the teenager. Vesna considered leaving, but she remembered her prayer. Was it possible the Ancients had led her to that particular farm? She decided to take a risk and remove her helmet. The family stared at her with bewildered shock. “It looks like you could use some food, and I need a place to stay. Maybe we can help each other.” “You… have food, Mistress?” “No, but I have a have a silver piece.” Vesna held up a coin. “It’s yours if you give me a safe place to set up my tent and rest my horse.” The old man tapped the teenager with one of his crutches. Very reluctantly she approached the stranger. “You’re offering us silver, Mistress?” Vesna looked around the farm. There was a chicken coop, but it was empty. There was a pen for keeping pigs, but that was empty as well. It was clear the first thing the group needed to do was eat, so they’d have to procure some food. Vesna realized that going to the village market with a local girl to buy a meal would be a perfect way to have a look around. “Let’s do this. I want to go to the local market anyway. We’ll buy a pig and you can help me cook him. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind having roast pig?” “Mistress, you shouldn’t be taunting us. We’ve done you no harm.” “I’m not taunting you. I’d like a good meal, a safe place to eat it, and companions to share it with. I can’t eat a whole pig by myself.” After convincing the teenager and the old man she was serious, Vesna unloaded Moonlight and piled her belongings next to the cottage. She excused herself to change into her worker’s dress. She decided to take her longbow with her. Vesna led her horse, the teenager, and the oldest boy, who was ten, into the closest village. The townspeople seemed surprised to see the destitute children accompanied by an armed young woman who was considerably healthier. The food merchants had no problem accepting Vesna’s money, however. She bought the pig and ingredients needed to roast him, but she knew that it would take at least a day to prepare and cook the animal, and the family needed to eat right away. She bought a half-wheel of cheese, eight loaves of bread, a bag of apples, vegetables and salt to make stew, a cage containing six hens, and grain to feed them. She ended up spending not one, but four of her silver coins. As the sun set, the stranger and the children returned to the farm with the pig and the loaded horse. She ate a good meal with her astounded hosts before setting up her tent. She announced they’d slaughter and cook the pig the next day. The pig took two days to properly prepare, so the family continued to feast on the food their guest bought at the market. Vesna sent the girl back to the village to purchase more hens to re-stock the chicken coop so everyone could have eggs. She examined the old man’s legs and treated an infection. Over the following week the children recovered from being malnourished. Vesna talked at length with the old man about the surrounding area and the new silver-mining town. She found out that his name was Plámenckt and the teenager’s name was Margíckta. The children were all Plámenckt’s grandchildren. Margíckta and the oldest boy were the orphans of a daughter who was executed by the True Believers for prostitution. The other four were the offspring of a son who went into the mountains with a group of prospectors and never returned. Plámenckt’s daughter-in-law had moved in with him, bringing her children. However, in the spring a neighbor found her dead along the lane leading to the village. She was killed by a musket-ball, but no one knew why. After burying the daughter-in-law, Plámenckt tried to keep the farm going over the summer, but his health was failing and he did not have the resources to take care of six children by himself. When Vesna was alone with Margíckta, the girl provided additional details about the family’s history. She also confessed she was planning to run away to the mines and work as a prostitute, in spite of what happened to her mother. Vesna responded: “Well, you’d better not try doing that while I’m here. You won’t need the True Believers to separate your soul from your body. I’ll track you down and execute you myself.” “But…what can I do?” “Braid your hair and find a husband. That had better be the only Path in Life you think about.” “But, I… can’t. I don’t have a dress… or anything else…” “We’ll see what we can do about that. Don’t assume you’re the only girl who’s ever faced that difficulty. But I’m warning you not to try running off. Be patient.” ---------- The days went by and Vesna’s instincts as a peasant took over as she started addressing many of the farm’s longer-term problems. Without giving much thought to what she was doing, she directed the children to start cleaning up the homestead. The house was in deplorable condition, so she returned to the market to buy some tools and nails to make repairs. She addressed the family’s lack of cleanliness by converting an old barrel into a primitive bathtub. She oversaw a bathing and teeth-cleaning regimen. She inspected the children’s clothing and made sure it was at least reasonably clean. By the beginning of the second week she began working in the garden. She couldn’t help it: she just couldn’t bear looking at a farm in such deplorable condition without doing something about it. When she was outside in the dirt, she returned to the western Danubian custom of wearing nothing but shoes and a broad-brimmed hat to reduce the amount of time she had to spend washing and drying her worker’s dress. To save time dealing with their own clothing, the older children followed her example while performing their chores. At the end of each day the visitor insisted that everyone use the improvised bathtub before going into the house. Vesna spent August exploring the area around Plátnackt Dék when she was not trying to fix the problems with Plámenckt’s farm. She took Margíckta with her a guide and companion, but also to keep the girl under her watch and make sure she didn’t try leaving the farm in her absence. Vesna inquired about the mines and paths going into the mountains. She discovered there was a book-seller in Plátnackt Dék who was able to provide her with what she needed; a map of the paths and lanes surrounding the silver mines, including the trails going west towards the cave-charcoal excavations. He warned her not to go into the mountains, however. Recent rainstorms had washed out one of the mines and some of the trails. Unemployed miners were repairing the area, but the men were destitute and a single woman attempting to ride through the area on a horse would be a tempting target. “It won’t be so dangerous after they fix their mine and go back to work. But right now those men are starving and blocking the road. Your horse would make a fine meal and you’d provide the after-dinner entertainment.” “So, when do you think the road will be clear?” “Not till the end of August, at the earliest. Whenever you come into town I’ll update you with anything I find out.” Meanwhile, Margíckta was paging through the books, looking at the text with bewilderment. Vesna glanced at her, then at her map in frustration. The end of August. Knowing how the Realm of the Living worked, the date was optimistic. Probably those workers wouldn’t have the road fixed until sometime in September. It would take at least another month to navigate the paths to Sevérckt nad Gorádki, meaning the best she could hope was to finish the trip in mid- October. She wouldn’t make it before the first snowfall in the higher elevations stranded her. So, she’d have to wait until the following year. She sighed in frustration. She had wasted her time, coming to Plátnackt Dék. There was more bad news awaiting Vesna when she and the girl returned to the homestead. Plámenckt was in bed, unable to talk, with the kids gathered around him. When Vesna examined him, it was apparent he had suffered a stroke. Vesna questioned Margíckta about the old man’s health over the summer. The girl related he had suffered a previous stroke, the one that forced him to use crutches. The second stroke was even more serious. It was obvious he was not going to recover. Vesna sat by the old man’s bed. He struggled to talk. He was able to nod, but not much more. After looking around the room at his grandkids, Plámenckt looked at her with a pleading expression. It wasn’t hard to figure out what he wanted. Vesna took a deep breath and accepted the responsibility the Ancients had given her. She took his hand. “I’ll stay with the kids over the winter. I can’t promise you anything more than that, but I’ll help them make it through the spring planting. I know a few things about surviving and I’ll teach them what I can while I’m here. And I’ll watch Margíckta. I already told her what will happen if she tries to run away. I know how to use a switch and she’ll find that out if she tries anything stupid.” The old man continued looking at her. She didn’t know what else to do, so she continued talking to reassure him. “I came here because I wanted to go through the mountains to get to Sevérckt nad Gorádki. I’m a fugitive from Rika Chorna and I can’t risk going over the main pass. I just found out I can’t go this way either, because I can’t go past the mines until next spring. So, I’m stranded. I couldn’t leave even if I wanted to.” Vesna’s cold logic reassured the old man more than any promise she could have made. Vesna called Margíckta to her side. She placed the girl’s hand onto that of her grandfather. “You heard me tell your grandfather that I’ll watch over you. I will keep that promise. Do you understand, Margíckta?” “Yes, Mistress Vesna.” Vesna figured it would be best to let the grandkids be alone with the old man during his final moments in the Realm of the Living. She carried a new pickax to the gravesite of the murdered daughter-in-law. She took off her dress and started a new grave next to the one already there. She began hacking at the ground halfheartedly. However, as the memories of the Vice-Duke and his hideous palace and the hideous people who filled it took over her thoughts, rage built up inside her. This… right here… this was the price of what that group of degenerates was doing to the Vice-Duchy. She grunted and perspired as she wildly swung the implement. She was sick of her life and sick of the Realm of the Living. At that moment everything disgusted her. The face of the weakling Prince Hristóckt, as he lay in his bed beneath her, filled her imagination. She savagely swung at that offensive apparition, landing the pick squarely into his nose. Oh, how she would have liked to use that pick on him for real. He had died suddenly, in an explosion or a landslide. That was way too good for him. Why couldn’t he have suffered like that old man inside the cottage? As she swung the pick, the faces of other people she hated came into view: Enockt, Oana, the Vice-Duke’s family, the women from the palace in Rika Chorna, the nuns, the matrons from the Grand Duke’s castle, Guard Anníkki … and the Crowned Prince of her bitter memories, Bagatúrckt. She grunted in rage as she swung the pick into each of their faces. Before she realized what she had done, Vesna was standing in a grave that was as deep as her chest. Sweat poured down her naked body, she was covered in mud, and her hands were full of painful blisters that already had broken. She looked up to see the bewildered children standing above her. Margíckta made the announcement that her grandfather’s soul had separated from his body. Vesna climbed out from the muddy hole and told the others to wait until she could bathe and get dressed. A half-an-hour later the patriarch of that sad family was laying in the ground, holding the remains of a broken mirror as the dirt piled on top of him. The funeral consisted of a prayer to the Ancients and three hymns of mourning sung by Vesna in archaic Danubian. ---------- Later that night, after the children were asleep, Vesna returned to the grave. She silently stared at the mound of dirt for a long time. As pathetic as it was, the funeral for a stranger was more than she had been able to give either her dead husband or her dead lover. She decided a prayer to the dead was necessary. Yes, she had prayed for Plámenckt, but it had been a while since she prayed for the souls of Ermin and Ilmátarkt. Before she could kneel, an owl flew over her head and landed on a fence post. The bird turned his head and stared at her with cruel yellow eyes. The world slowly went black and the ground grabbed her feet. She was immobilized. The eyes grew until they filled her entire range of vision. “Danka… Danka… Danka Síluckt. Answer me. Do not try to ignore me.” “Why are you calling me that? I’m using the name Vesna Rogúskt right now.” “Not with me, you’re not. To me, you will always be Danka.” “So, what now? What are you taking from me this time? Or are you here to tell me something awful about the old man?” “I’m not taking anything from you, Danka Síluckt, and I’m not here to tell you anything awful… at least not about anyone you care about. I’m here to congratulate you. I tested you, and you were one of the few mortals who’ve ever survived that challenge.” “Tested me? You’re… you’re talking about the Bishop’s gold?” “Exactly. You saw the gold for what it is. It took you a while, but you realized what that fortune would do to you. You were smart enough to get rid of it. I’m impressed. It’s not often I can say that about a mortal. You impressed me.” “So, I guess… I should thank you for the compliment.” “If you wish. I know you’re curious to know what’s happened to the gold, whether you care to admit it or not. So, I’ll tell you, and in doing so I will give you some insight of the true stupidity of humans, and why I see fit to torment them. As you know, the gold was indeed cursed. The Bishop collected it over the years, making life miserable for tens of thousands of people in doing so. That gold was his purpose in life, so I saw fit to destroy him. Would you like to know what happened to your co-conspirators in Rika Chorna?” “Yes.” Very well. As soon as you gave them the coins and departed, you’re companions argued over what to do with my fortune. The smartest member of your group argued for taking it to the Great Temple in Danúbikt Móskt and handing it over to the Prophets. Had they followed that advice, they would have rid themselves of my curse. Unfortunately for them, Enockt overruled that member and asked, what else should they do with the gold? Buy land? Weapons? Use it for bribes? Construct a better safe-house? As the arguing continued through the night, your companions lost trust in each other. Each began to wonder how he or she could take away a portion of the gold for personal use. They became greedy, so no one had the common sense to admit the coins should be evenly split up. The quarreling turned into an open fight. Finally, close to dawn, Enockt snuck out, retrieved a flash-bomb, and tossed it into the room to paralyze the others. Your leader killed his companions, people he had worked with for years, with a short- sword. He gathered all of the purses, stole the Bishop’s stallion, and departed to return to his home in Pívdenkt Tók. Shall I continue?” “Please.” “As soon as the sun rose, a group of provincial guards recognized the Bishop’s horse and pursued the rider. It took several hours, but finally they cornered Enockt and arrested him. Without bothering to ask any questions or formally put him on trial, they bayoneted him. Interesting, is it not? They had, in their custody, the most notorious criminal in the Vice-Duchy, but they were so deluded by the gold they never bothered to learn their prisoner’s true value. The guards spent the rest of the day arguing over what to do with the gold and how to divide it up. Each thought he deserved to have most or all of it. At sunset, the guards grabbed their muskets and clubbed and bayoneted each other until a single man was left alive. He took off with the Bishop’s stallion and fled. The surviving guard was dead in less than an hour, murdered by brigands who recognized the horse and wanted the animal for themselves. By sunrise the following morning, the brigands were dead and the treasure changed hands yet again. So, that was the fate of the gold and the horse. For the rest of the summer, the coins and the animal moved from town to town, separating souls from bodies wherever they went.” “…and how will it end?” “It just ended, today in fact. Another mortal, a bit smarter than most, did what you did. He rejected the gold and refused to touch it. I spared his life and took back my coins and my horse.” There was a long pause, as Danka (as she was still known to the Destroyer) stared into the unblinking yellow eyes. “I have a question. I’d like your permission to ask it.” “As you wish. Ask.” “You seem to enjoy punishing people who indulge in hubris. That’s the weakness that seems to attract you the most. Am I correct about that?” “I don’t ‘punish’ mortals, Danka Síluckt. I separate souls from bodies because that is what the Cosmos calls upon me to do. But you are correct about hubris. A person, or a nation, indulging in hubris is more likely to draw my attention than one that is not indulging in hubris. And remember, hubris takes many forms and destroys mortals in many different ways.” The eyes vanished and the darkness receded. The ground released the young woman’s feet. When she looked at the fence-post, the owl was gone. She felt strangely at peace, which was the first time she had ever felt that way after a visit from the Destroyer. Previously she had felt frightened or bewildered or angry, but this time the Destroyer had not visited to taunt her. Instead, the Destroyer had given her some insight about the Realm of the Living. She was grateful for insight, regardless of where it came from.