Curse and Possession, Chapter 1

TR Hanley
Curse and Possession
Issue One

Smoke curled toward the pre-dawn sky as the old mansion of House Darmanse was eaten by the orange flames. Crispian lay upon the ground, coughing still from the black smoke he had breathed in while rescuing Argyle deep below the building. Darnyk, friend and lately Chaplain to the League, and thus to Crispian, had arrived near the end of the action. He now knelt next to his friend with a look of concern on his face. "What was this all about?" the friar asked. Darnyk was a member of the militant order of Hospitlers that served many of the royal orders.

Crispian squinted up at his friend, eyes still stinging from the smoke and flames of the inner house. "It's about Loriana," he answered in a puzzled tone. It seemed so odd that Darnyk would not know about it. Crispian coughed violently, spitting out a brown mass. "She's been taken." The words fell rather flat in the turmoil that ebbed around them.

Jashen knelt beside his brother and looked across at Darnyk. The noble friar's face showed confusion. "That's all he's said since we hauled him out," the younger twin commented. He was at the moment the pristine version of the two of them; clean and groomed compared to Crispian's harried expression and war worn look which was deepened by the soot stains from the fire.

"Well," Darnyk said quietly, "we'll explore that later, then." His green-brown eyes crinkled as he stared toward the roaring flames. The sun was washing the scene in orange and red hues as well, making it all seem like a woodcut from some perdition tale. "And then, perhaps, find out what this was all about." With a simple flick of his eyes, he took in all that was going on about them and made mental notes about what to ask later. Trained as both warrior and healer, his mind was as agile as his hands and as quick as his staff in battle.

Royal troops as well as those from some of the private houses of the realm milled about. The entire building was a loss; it was plain to see. Some servants stood aside weeping as their home, even more so than the owners’, House Darmanse was consumed. Roaring flames licked with hunger at the few remaining walls, intent on taking those down as well.

Shackled in chains and surrounded by a squad of able guards, Loriana was being led away. Her fine gown was ruined from the inferno that even now still raged. Although of middle-years, she yet retained a good deal of striking beauty, and even so bound and guarded, she carried herself with great dignity. The guards gave her space as they escorted her for that was her due as a noble of birth. She would be turned over to the King, she knew, for her acts had been treason. Moreover, her success had been so close. Only betrayal and poor timing had caused her failure.

As she was led away, she looked over those who had fallen during the course of the night. Most had done so due to the fire, but some had died at the swords of her retainers. She gave a grim smile at the satisfaction that this brought to her. Her foes had nearly been undone, and it was a grand play at that. If only she had realized the deception that was put before her, her actions would have come sooner.

As she recognized that not all were from her house, she almost smiled again. At last, her eyes lit upon her seducer, in the company of three other men. He who had used looks, charm, and grace to win his way into her abode and then betray her with what he was able to learn. She froze in anger as bitter scorn rose in her mind. He will be made to pay, she vowed. Yes, he would be the last at whom she struck.

Her fingers danced in spell-work, quick and precise. An accomplished sorceress, she had thrown many spells about during her career in the hunt and against the foes. Before a guard could react, she unleashed her work, as carefully done as time would allow. Her hands barely moved from her side as she let fly the wicked spell. Her energies were focused even for so fast a working.

"Inversus Inversus Desirus! Fiat Fiat!" she snapped, quick words wrapped in the power of her skills. It was not the kind of spell that would lay him low or even cause his mind to be blank slate. No, this was a twisting spell, meant to work over time, over months. He would not know what brought him down by the time he was at his nadir. Nor would it occur to him from where he had been struck. The guards yanked her along and she smiled coldly. The Axe man might be her undoing but the one to blame for it would have his own downfall.

Crispian shifted, coughing again as he tried to rise. Tannir, faithful squire and attendant, helped him shift. "You should not move, Lord," he said quietly, bracing Crispian against his raised knee. "You are weak, yet." His blue eyes, almost a decade younger than Crispian's own, shone with concern. Jashen looked on as Darnyk aided Tannir in settling Crispian in a half-sitting posture.

With a wave of his hand, Cris signaled he was done moving. Even that small shift had set a fire to his back. He was sore everywhere from having charged fool-headed into the burning old manse. Having pushed aside the older Cinaq lord, Crispian had taken the full brunt of a falling beam upon his back. Had it not been for that same man calling for aid back to him, Crispian would surely have burned to death within the building.

As his pale gray eyes surveyed the scene before him, he paused in thought. What would the days and weeks ahead hold? He had been so sure of it all when this was but conspiratorial whispers in taverns and salons in Alyadar. Loriana had been wrong in what she planned, he knew. The information he had discovered and brought to light a few days earlier had revealed her twisted plan. He was certain that acting on it was the right thing to do.

Now that plans had become deeds, there would of course be consequences. Even a Captain as young as Crispian knew that. What those consequences would be remained to be seen. With a shake of his head, he straightened up a bit more. "If you think we can manage, could we try to get back to the Hall?" he said through a strained smile, trying to show he was all right. For now, all he wanted was to be out of his armor and into a soft bed.

A quick exchange of looks and a nod from Darnyk, and Tannir and Jashen were hoisting him to his feet. A cringe or two accompanied their efforts, restrained though they were. Supported by Tannir, already a full head taller than he, Crispian began to make his way across the wreckage of the courtyard. Some troopers waved here and there to him, but most were busy with prisoners or wounded. The foursome moved slowly through a scene of carnage worthy of the war front. But this was the outskirts of the capitol, close enough to see the spires of churches and the tops of mage towers even.

A table had been set outside the entry arch of the Manse’s garden, and at it stood Argyle, Edward, Mathriel, and a few others. The group stopped there. These men were the nobles in charge of the overall arrest effort here that had led to the disaster that consumed the building. Brother-in-law, husband and other relations to Loriana some of them also numbered, yet they would not put blood above king and country as she had tried to do.

"Lord General, I trust all went well?" Crispian asked, giving a half-salute to the tall Cinaq. His back and shoulders alit with new pain as he moved but respect was the man's due, and Crispian would give it as able.

Argyle nodded, his bushy mustaches drooping. "Aye, lad, fine indeed. Thanks to what you learned." His blue eyes were squinted in the smoky air and his armor would need smithing. "If it hadna been for you, we'd still be chasing after just one man's honor, not seeing the risk to more." Some of those around him nodded, showing their assessment of events as well. Even this assurance from Argyle came with a grim undertone.

"No, Lord, you would have found out," he replied with a shake of his head. "Some other would have found her out, I am sure. Perhaps her own plotting would have been betrayed." Crispian lacked the certainty of Argyle regarding this. He did not buy into the idea that ends justified means, nor was he so inveterate to the war as to justify some acts. His conscience was torn.

The church knight scoffed loudly. "Ack, and my mother is taking up battle-healing! You're a modest man, Sir Crispian, but honestly, you have to admit that none would have done what you did when need was known." His voice softened at the end as he noticed the conflict within Crispian's eyes.

Crispian thought back to exactly what that had been. He had wooed and seduced a vulnerable lady to gain entry into her sanctuary. Then, he had plundered it for information and revealed what he had learned to those concerned. True, he had learned of a plot to discredit a knightly order, two nobles, and even to cast suspicion upon the king. But he had also used the vulnerability of another to do so. He was not used to trafficking in such things.

He shook his head, leaning into Tannir as the healing wards casts by Darnyk faded. "Some other way, Lord General, there should have been another way."

The older man frowned, nodding slowly. "Oft times, lad, we be wishing that, but it isnae so. What needs to be done has to be done. And those who have to do it sometimes suffer for the doing." He himself had taken an oath to the church, and fought on the standard of that oath. However, even he at times had felt the pull of accomplishing a goal and the means to doing it. He clapped a large hand on his fellow knight's shoulder. "Dinnae worry, Crispian, you'll make your atonement."

With a nod to the man who had become like a surrogate father to him, Crispian began to limp off with aid. He could not help but wonder what atonement that would be. He knew it would not be the penance of some priest of the church. Atonement for something like this often came from a more preternatural source.

--
Barthel Darmanse, nephew to Loriana and scion of house Darmanse, paced the antechamber. Word had reached him some hours ago that the family estate outside the city was under Royal seizure. He had bided his time waiting for a moment with the King. His finery showed the strain on him as he paced and fretted. The family had never known such shame, and his temper was on the rise. What had his spinster aunt done? Was it not bad enough that she showed such an obsession over this Edward man and his destruction? Surely, that should be enough to bear. Her actions that had led to the King issuing warrants must be found out.

An aged courtier entered the chamber. "His Majesty will receive you now, Lord Barthel," he said quietly with an exquisite bow. "He awaits you in his study." The man turned and led the young lord to a withdrawing room.

Seated at a large, ornate table, the King was reading a half-rolled scroll. He was a large man, with a full head of rich blue-black hair. Eyes of brown glinted under generous but not unruly eyebrows, and a patrician nose set the face as noble, even as his bearing marked him regal. "Lord Barthel," he intoned more than said in a voice rich with command, honed on the battlefield and brought to bear in council, "you have sought a moment of our time?" He barely looked up from the scroll initially, leisurely taking a moment to set it down and then survey the man before him.

Barthel did not miss the use of the Royal plural. He grasped quickly that the King was not in a pleasant mood. From a deep bow, he rose, inclining his head again in greeting. "Yes, your Majesty, I am pleased that you could make time for me on such short notice. I have heard that you have laid arms to an estate of my family's outside the city?" He kept his voice as neutral as he could.

The king turned his eyes from the scroll, fixing the nobleman with a direct and examining stare. "Yes, we have taken into possession estates held by your paternal aunt, Lady Loriana, and will have her to custody. We are in possession of evidence of her treachery against our Throne, our Subjects, and our Knights." He indicated a stack of papers at his desk.

"That my aunt had enemies is no secret, Sire," Barthel said quietly. That she lacked foresight in planning was terribly obvious to him now. "What is your will in this matter?" If the king was pronouncing sentence already there would be no hope for her. If he had not made his mind up fully perhaps Barthel could redeem his aunt somehow.

The king looked at his noble with little pity in his eyes. "We shall reflect on her actions, and form an opinion. In the meantime, she shall here be held." The tone in which he said the last sentence left no possibility for further discussion.

"As is the King's Grace," Barthel said bowing and leaving. Loriana had made errors in her judgement; that was clear. However, to plot treason something had to be wrong and greatly so. Someone would be made to pay for this. Not a man to act rashly, Barthel had learned to be patient and strike when opportunity arose, as it always did. Soft boots scuffing along the marble floor, he left the halls of power and returned to his estate to consider what to do next regarding his aunt.
--
Chained, hunched, and defeated, Loriana arrived at the Palace of the King. It was the seat of power, home, and center to the King and his Kingdom. A vast, sprawling complex, it covered acres of land on the east ridge of the City. Only the central keep retained the look of fortress any longer, for long had the Kingdom once known peace. In these days, war raged on the borders, and a wing of the building had been made over into a prison. It was in this direction that Loriana was now led.

Chambers fitting her station were shown to her, and she was even given a servant, though she was a large, hulking brute of a woman. Dejected, Loriana sat and watched the sun bathe the palace in golden spring light. She could still see smoke rising beyond the walls where her home burned.

The woman brought basin and towels to her. "You look a fright, milady," she said quietly, setting the basin down with a suppressed smile. A small chuckle escaped her. "The world has dealt you a blow, I'd be saying," she remarked as she prepared cloths with which the lady could clean.

Loriana turned toward the woman, noticing an almost unnatural smoothness to her features. "Yes, it has indeed," the noblewoman said quietly, as she took up the towel and dipped it in the basin. Warm water helped her rub at the smudges over her face. As she washed, the woman chuckled again.

"Life's not given you much to laugh at, has it?" she asked in an odd voice. Loriana turned toward her, noticing an odd look in her eyes. "But you'd like to laugh wouldn't you?" The woman's lips lifted in a crimped smile as their eyes met.