Blue Rose and Raven: Chapter Six

Mother finally returns with a fantastic account, and the family receives an ultimatum that could change their lives forever.

BANG!

            The sudden, harsh sound roused our collective attention from each other and to its source. The front door had swung violently open. The wind howled, snuffing out many of our candles and throwing snow all around the house. In the now darkened door frame stood a figure covered in worn furs and wet boots. She swayed slightly, partially from the wind, but from clear exhaustion. Her eyes, visible from underneath her scarf, were weary and glazed over.

            “Mother!” My brothers and I cried simultaneously.

Instantly everyone jumped from our seats and ran to help her. Mother collapsed into our arms the second we were over there. Her hands were cold, and her cheeks were hollow. She let out a harsh, choking cough as her eyes lazily slid between us three. She managed to smile before losing consciousness.

            “She’s ice cold. August, heat up some water. Marius, help me carry her.” Connie said without any hesitation. Without any words, Camille disappeared and came back with blankets. M. DeRose held onto Caesar, who was beginning to cry. Elaine, as it turned out, went with August to find a bucket for the now hot water he’d managed to prepare in the still-lit fireplace. Marius and I wrapped Mother in blankets and gently set her in a chair near the fireplace, then placed her bare feet in the bucket. That seemed to rouse her as her body flinched violently and relaxed. A semblance of color returned to her face. She relaxed, sinking into her cocoon of blankets.

            The next hour, we all sat around her, watching her sleep. From her disheveled appearance, the journey had sapped her. More gray streaked through her hair. Her face was streaked with stress lines. Her eyes were ringed with dark circles. This must’ve been the best night of sleep she’d had in weeks. We all watched her sleep, but my brothers and I watched her closest of all. If anything happened to her, we wouldn’t miss a second of it.

            Finally, while we were all collectively dozing off, she awoke. Her heavy eyes blinked slowly, registering the room. One by one, Connie, August and I surrounded her. Instantly her eyes filled with tears.

            “My boys,” She rasped, grabbing us all and pulling us close. “Oh God, my sweet boys.” She kissed and hugged us all. Soon all four of us were crying. It had been nearly a month yet seeing her again felt like we had been separated for years. “I’m sorry I left you so long.” Soon the rest of the family joined in to celebrate her coming home. Even Eloise greeted Mother with a big sloppy kiss.

            “Where were you?!” August demanded somewhat forcefully. “Where did you go?”

            “Too much happened to keep me from you all,” She answered. “I don’t know if I can explain it properly.”

            “You don’t have to,” Connie said, tears falling like rivers from his eyes. “You’re home. That’s all that matters.”

             “My dears, I will explain everything. I just need to�"” She coughed harshly. “I need to rest. I will tell you all in the morning.”

            We all honored her wishes, with one exception: Everyone except for Caesar, Elaine, and me stood watch over Mother that night. I slept fitfully that night, unable to think about anything else. Even the comfort of Doux by my hand did little to assuage my fears.

 

            The morning after was stark and cold. Outside, the wind had stopped. There were no birds singing nor small animals scurrying around in the snow. The world outside seemed to have gone still. We all ate breakfast surrounding Mother, who sat wrapped in a blanket by the fire. She held a small cup of tea she sipped periodically. In between sips, her coughs shook her body. For a while, we ate in silence. When I tore my face from my plate of leftover chicken and quickly made porridge, I saw August and Connie taking furtive glances at Mother. Camille would look at everyone. And M. DeRose and Elaine took small glances at each other. Our collective silence was akin to a monk’s vow, a sacred oath taken for a great purpose we were forbidden to break. Mother’s reappearance was miraculous, but only through her absence being so prolonged. A miracle was so only when balanced against a greater misfortune, it seemed.

            Mother took one last long sip of her tea and cleared her throat. “I think I owe you all an explanation.”

            “You don’t owe us anything, Mother,” Connie said. “We’re just glad you’re home.”

            “Where were you for an entire month, Elise? We were worried sick about you.” Camille added.

            Mother sighed, hanging her head. “It’s going to sound unbelievable.”

            “Like that would matter,” August huffed.

            Mother laughed mirthlessly. “I suppose you’re right.” She turned her gaze to the flickering embers of the fireplace. Her eyes grew hollow and voice distant as she began her tale.

v   

“When I left here a month ago, my plan was exactly as I told you all: two weeks at most. And for a while, my trip went exactly as planned. Leaving the forest was difficult considering the terrain and the…odd qualities of this place, but we’re already familiar with that. For four days I traveled on that road, inching ever closer to the coast. But the weather, dear God the weather, proved to be taxing for me and the horse. Twice terrible winds and deep snow forced me to stay extra nights in an inn. Winter nights, it seems, are somewhat better out there then they are in this village. Somewhat.

Eventually I made it to the port city. Lumere, the normal place of contact for our ships. Winter is not an optimal time for sailing, and as such the port was mostly empty. Thankfully that left my ship spoiled for choice for where to dock.

Out of the crew of 10, about six were left. The hull was ruined and broken, barely held together with tar and spare ropes. The sails were punctured and torn. It was miraculous the ship survived the storm at all. The journey around the African coast did them no favors either.

Nonetheless, I was overjoyed the crew had survived. They felt the same. I was greeted by the first mate acting as captain as the original skipper had been one of those lost. He took me below deck to the hold to inspect the silks. Stepping into ankle-high seawater should have been an omen for what was to come, but I foolishly held onto hope. I think it was that horrid damp air in the hull that gave me this horrible cough. The thing was practically underwater anyway. Seaweed was stuck to the wall of the hull. I swore I saw crabs skittering about. But still I followed the first mate to where the shipments of silk had been tied down to protect them from the storms.

They hadn’t opened the silk chests since they’d hit the storm. Survival took precedent over cargo, a fact I completely understood. But I still hoped against all odds that something, anything, could’ve survived the tempest.

I reached inside. The instant my hands touched seawater, I knew my mission had been for naught. The silks had been soaking in salt water for over six months and the dyes had drained from the fabric. And the fabric was as good as useless. I felt immense anger at the misfortune of it all: Anger at the elements for ruining our family’s fortune, anger at myself for putting so many lives in danger. I knew the crew of this vessel had no choice but to keep themselves afloat. I held no ill will towards them. This was my responsibility. I would shoulder the burden.

There are times, children, when you feel your entire life is set on a certain path. The Dufresne Trading Company was mine, as it would always be for our children’s children. To see its dissolution and hold it in my hands was my final reminder that nothing in this world is certain. There is always something that can be taken from you. I never wanted to be reminded of that fact. The one other time was the death of your father. It is…not something I want to remember.

My mission was a failure. But I had to return home to you all. So I took a day to rest up and resupply, and I was off. I knew I was well behind schedule. You would be missing me, and that fact pained me. So, I made a resolution: I would make it home at all costs. Nothing would stand in my way to return to my family. I decided I could not afford to stop at an inn if it meant waiting another day to get back on the road.

And the elements did endeavor to keep me from returning. The blizzards I’d previously weathered in the safety of taverns and inns came back fiercer and colder than ever. The ice nearly pelted me off the horse. But I soldiered on. I braved the biting cold because it was my duty as your mother to return.

Two days of straight travel through the snow left me and the horse cold, hungry, and tired. But one cold afternoon through the great curtains of snow I could finally see the forests. Looking back, I shouldn’t have been riding in my state. I was half-mad and delirious. My horse was the same, panting heavily like a sweltering dog. But as I rode through the snow, all trace of day drained away like water in a stream. Soon my lantern was the only thing keeping the chilly darkness from swallowing me whole. Even when those godforsaken animals began howling around me and their shining eyes became visible through the twigs and trunks, I kept going. I barely kept myself aware of the world, the barely lit lantern’s light my only beacon of direction.

            My stubbornness would cost me. In my torpor, I barely registered my horse’s ankle catching between rocks. She let out a loud cry as I flew face-first into the snow. I finally awoke to hearing my steed crying out in pain. I rushed to help her, but the points of lights in the dark were closing in. A pack of wolves soon surrounded us, large backs arched and large yellow teeth glistening as bright as their eyes. The lantern had not been extinguished in the confusion, so I waved it at the animals. With a piece of cloth from my pack and my last bit of oil, I hastily assembled a torch and lit it ablaze. The fountain of light scared everyone, including me. At that moment, I took one last look at my horse, our beloved horse, then the wolves, then the horse again. And I ran.

            I had no direction for my flight. Rational thought all but extinguished in that moment as I dashed madly through the snow, clumsily stumbling through the cold wet darkness as the unearthly howling wind mixed with the inhuman howls of the wolves and my horse crying out in agony before fading to silence as she was devoured. My makeshift torch was my only defense on two fronts and even then, its golden light was fading fast. Only two things pulsed in my head like sense memories from the womb, a song barely remembered: My children. Home. My children. Home.

            After mere moments that felt like hours, I saw a small solitary blue light winking coldly in the blackness. I ran towards it, ankle-high snow numbing my legs and toes. I shoved twigs and brush aside. In the confusion, I dropped my torch. The hiss of its extinguishment was a distant thought as I continued towards the light. Soon the source of the light became clear: It was a lantern post standing sentinel, it’s light illuminating a cloud of snow in a fuzzy halo. There was more beyond the lantern as well. There were giant arched windows and snow-covered hedges and a pair of massive wooden doors. A house! A country home of a lord, possibly! I nearly cried in relief as I blew past the lantern and threw my hands on the doors, pounding with all my might. “Let me in!” I bellowed like an animal. “For the love of God, let me in!”

            The doors obliged, and I fell forward into the great house.

            The howls of the wind and wolves had stopped. I sat in a heap on the floor in total darkness. My heartbeat slowing to something resembling normalcy, I tried to make out my surroundings. But everything was so dark. It was like a tomb.

            “Hello?” I asked quietly, my voice carrying unexpectedly.

            Instantly, blue-flamed lanterns hanging overhead lit one by one in a firey procession. A long hallway of black marble floors and white pillars became visible. Picking myself up, I furtively walked the path the lanterns laid out for me. Outside the pools of light, I could make out shapes standing in the dark. I startled at first, then realized that the human-shaped forms frozen in place were highly detailed statues of men and women dressed in humble servants’ clothes. They were posed in eerily lifelike positions. Some were bowing. Some pointed down the hall. Their faces were frozen in kindly expressions.

            More lights blazed to life. A massive banquet table filled with every kind of succulent food I could imagine was prepared. At the center was a tiny vase filled with brilliant blue roses that shined brightly in the gloom. My mouth watered as the smells of foods I never thought I’d ever eat again assailed my senses. It was then that my senses returned. I realized the unreality of my situation: an uninhabited manor in the middle of a blizzard? A banquet of prepared food that could feed twenty men? Was this a dream? A dying hallucination? It was impossible, yet I could smell this food and feel drafts of warm air draining the cold from my body.

            Rationality told me to leave. But hunger made me stay. So I sat down and began to eat.

            It’s easy to forget what a privilege food can be when deprived of it. Seven months of vegetable stew and porridge after a lifetime of the best dining in Paris was an adjustment, yes. But to taste of good food again as nothing short of revelatory. There were fresh fruits; there were perfectly baked pastries and breads; finely cured meats and succulently aged wine and hot soups; and finally sweet mousses and little tea cakes. All were served on gleaming china lined with gold with silverware polished to a mirror sheen. I ate greedily like the wolves outside, indulging this dream for this night.

            In my desires to satiate my hunger, I’d neglected to notice that when I was finished with a plate, it would disappear and, in its place, a clean plate would appear. This happened when I looked away for the briefest second. Looking back, I recalled seeing my used plate and silverware in the hands of one of the statues I had glimpsed on way to the table. In fact, every time I blinked the statues changed position around the table and room, carrying empty plates and utensils or frozen in jovial conversation.

            I’d finally had my fill. And on cue, the lanterns led me down another black-marbled hall to an open door. My dazing brain caught other strange details of this place on the way: There was a curious crest that adorned some walls and doors of this place. It depicted the outstretched wings and open beak of a raven behind a blooming rose. There were raven’s heads and wings claws all over the walls and furniture carved in perfect likeness of the bird. A curious animal for a family crest, but who was I to judge the tastes of noblemen?

            My room, lit by blue fire, was a massive canopy bed and several couches filled with soft pillows. Once I saw that bed, I could think of nothing else but the need to sleep. So, without taking off my boots or coat, I collapsed into its soft embrace and fell asleep instantly. I didn’t dream that night.

            It was dark when I awoke. The blue flames lit the room and I could see everything clearly. But it was still night. I looked around for a clock, but there were none. A fear in my heart began taking root. How long have I been asleep? I thought. The strange properties of this place fell into focus the more my mind reclaimed itself from sleep. If this place is enchanted, then what if it means to ensnare me? What if I have slept for decades instead of hours? I shook my head. No. Stop. You need to leave this place, then. Whoever is here has opened their home for someone in need. Now you must leave and think nothing of this again. I willed myself to get out of bed and leave the room.

            Outside my room, the servant-statues were waiting for me, their heads bowed in frozen piety as one offered me fresh clothes bundled in their stony hands. “No thank you,” I told the statue with polite curtsy. I didn’t know if it could hear, but it seemed polite. “Whoever your host is, I thank you very much for your hospitality. But I really must be going.” I strode away from the statues and whirled around, searching for a way out. I realized I was utterly lost in this strange dark cavernous place. Despite my every step being illuminated by lanterns lighting automatically overhead, I was no closer to finding the massive doors from which I entered. I passed through several rooms in my attempts to leave. There was an impossibly large library filled from roof to floor with volumes; I passed a massive atrium with an immaculate stained-glass ceiling and a grand piano carved from the finest wood at the center of the room; I saw balcony overlooking a snow-covered garden, the weather outside calm and still.

            The last room I passed was what appeared to be a massive art gallery and studio, its walls filled with artworks from across the world. It was not unlike our old collection at our old house. But just like the rest of this place, the artworks had minds of their own. A painting of a ship at sea braved a stormy sea contained in its frame. A battle between samurai of an ukiyo-e painting silently engaged in fierce combat, arrows flying, and katana held aloft. I had seen too many strange things in a short time to disbelief my sight at this point. The most normal thing in the room was the small table populated by used paintbrushes and a palette covered in dried paint.

            Paintbrush. It was a tiny thing that reminded me of a promise I’d made. I’d forgotten to get gifts in my haste to return home. But a single paintbrush was easy to find and to miss. I should’ve thought my choice through. Instead, I took one look around for my nonexistent host and with a swift movement snatched the smallest brush from the table.

            A moment more of wandering and I finally found the foyer. I was inches away from the door when I heard a sound like a gavel ring throughout the room. The ground shook and I fell to the ground.

What I saw next I will never forget.

            “How dare you steal from me!” A great voice echoed through the walls. Stalking from the empty pitch-black hallway was a massive form whose every step was punctuated by the loud gavel clack. I should’ve run away that point. But as the figure came into the light, I was so paralyzed with fear I could barely move. In the place of a human head, there was a mass of black feathers and large jagged beak with fatty tissue like a rooster drooping from its chin. Its piercing blue eyes were set like blazing flames in its head. Its hands were scaly and terminated in curved talons, one hand curved around a polished wooden cane. The cane’s head was an ornately decorated raven’s head with two gemstones for eyes. Most surreal of all was the creature’s garb, for it was dressed in an expensive silken robe not unlike the kinds that we would’ve traded in the past. The creature was horrible, but it had refined tastes. It hobbled towards me with frightening speed, its clear limp not stopping its desire to hunt me down.

            I tried to move to the door, but the cane stomped near my head. Fearfully, I turned back around to face the creature. “So this is what common folk do? I open my home to you in your time of need and you steal from me?” The creature said indignantly.

            “My lord, please,” I sputtered. “I apologize for my rudeness. I have not been in my right mind. I’ve been travelling non-stop for weeks�"”

            “Spare me!” The creature snapped. “I don’t care for your excuses. Your theft has offended me deeply, and for that you must remain here as recompense for your crime.”

            “No!” I shouted. “Please! You must let me go! I have a family and I have been gone so long. I must get home to them!”

            “Your mission is urgent? Is that why you slept for three days after gorging yourself on my generously provided banquet?” The creature fired back, both hands clasped over its cane authoritatively. “You would’ve kept walking past my estate if you were so set on returning home.” It turned away from me.

            I had known holier-than-thou types in my line of work. The well to do believe themselves above the common people because they possess more gold than their servants. I knew when I was being condescended to and learned to hide my anger after many years of practice. But this beast dared to presume of my mission to return home and the circumstances that led me to this place. And I will tolerate no one who speaks ill of the love for my family. “How dare you!” I erupted. “I have trudged through snow and ice for nearly a month trying to bring my family back from poverty. I ride into these abominable woods and wild animals nearly eat me alive. And you have the gall to suggest that I don’t care enough to return home when I nearly lost my life!” I stood and clenched my fists. “You know nothing of me, you foul-hearted monster!”

            The creature’s back remained turned. I came down from whatever demon possessed me to insult my host and braced myself for the inevitable deadly retaliation. To some lords, such a response would’ve meant my head would roll.

            “You do love them, then,” The monster said in a small voice.

            “I love them more than life itself,” I said, the thought bringing tears to my eyes. “I would give everything to see them again.”

            “Very well,” The creature replied. “Then I will let you return to them. But in three days’ time, you must return here.” The creature turned its head ever slightly so one of its eyes was visible to me. “No exceptions. The steed outside will take you home. And in three days’ time, it will return to bring you here.”

            “Thank you, sir. Thank you so much�"” I started, falling to my knees in relief.

            “That’s Madame to you. Now stop groveling and leave. I’ve my own business to attend.” The monster growled without turning around. “I will be expecting you.” She hobbled away into the dark, the clack of that cane fading away to nothing.

            I scarcely understood what just happened in the few past moments. My monstrous host seemed ready to end my life right there, and instead she lets me see my family again. It was truly like a bad dream: existent but utterly nonsensical. I had little to compare this incident to aside from bad dreams, but even those made their own kind of sense. After standing in the silence of that dark place’s foyer, I felt my pocket for the paintbrush I had stolen before leaving.

            The storm that had drawn me here was gone, replaced with a gently falling snow. Underneath the lamp lit with blue fire was a great stone horse. I moved cautiously toward the animal and saw a leather saddle and bridle affixed to the beast. The creature stood deathly still. Without prompt, it creaked to life and kneeled to the ground, its carved body grinding against itself with an unnerving sound. I looked the horse in its great unblinking eyes of polished black stone, then to the great manor hidden in the trees, and finally to the forests that lay beyond them. Then I hopped aboard.

v   

            Mother took another sip of tea upon finishing her story. We all stood in stunned silence. Only the soft crackling of the fireplace filled the air.

            “I don’t expect you to believe me,” Mother said quietly. “But if you need additional proof, here it is.” She produced the single paintbrush from her pocket. It was small and covered in dried paints. A small and unassuming thing, one that I used in the past. Not something that would’ve come from the lair of a monster.

            “But you’re not going, are you?” August stammered. “You’re not seriously going to obey that…creature?!”

            “What choice do I have?” Mother replied. “I did steal from her.”

            “You could leave! You could ride far away where it couldn’t find you!” Connie added. “Let’s see its magics find you if you’re half-way across the land!”

            “That would be unwise,” M. DeRose said solemnly. We all turned to the old woman. She wore a grim scowl. “It is a terrible mistake to break a vow, especially one bound by magic means.”

            “What is this, a Faustian bargain?” Camille chimed in. “Did you sell your soul to this creature?”

            “Silence!” Mother exclaimed, holding up her hands. Everyone went silent again. “My actions are my own, and I will fulfill my vows.” She tried to maintain her aura of dignity, but soon hung her head. “I must do this alone.”

            The living room was silent again, but the energy of our collective anguish was thick in the air like smoke. None of us could comprehend the strangeness of Mother’s story. The thought of her seeming acceptance of her bondage to the creature was too much to bear. But that was just our lives now, it seemed.

           

            The next three days dragged on for ages. We tried to make the best of it by exchanging gifts. M. DeRose and Elaine stayed with us the whole time. Elaine presented her wooden dolls to the family, which we all accepted. Camille and Connie cooked dinners with our remaining meats. Mother played with Caesar for the first time, something that always put a smile on her face. Otherwise, it felt like we were all collectively waiting for the inevitable. Mother had unwittingly paid the ferryman it seemed. The boat to the other side was due to come very soon and there was little any of us could do.

When we exchanged gifts, Mother handed me the paintbrush. Seeing the little thing in my hand made me feel both sick and regretful. I thought it selfish to feel responsible for actions that weren’t mine. But the feeling wouldn’t leave me no matter how hard I tried. On the night of the second evening before she left, I gave it back to her. “But it’s yours, Marius,” She protested.

            “I can’t bear to look at it because of what it cost,” I replied, closing Mother’s hand over the brush. “Nothing so small is worth losing my mother over.”

            “Marius,” She said, touching my cheek. “Do not shoulder my burden for me. You have no reason to.”

            “What if this thing harms you? It could devour you the second you arrive!”

            “Then it will know your mother’s fury.” Mother said. She pulled me close, and we hugged each other tightly.

            Still the feeling persisted. It like the vines that choked the statues and trees of this place strangled my heart. This guilt over my stupid dream and my family suffering because of it. In less than a day, my mother would disappear from our lives over a single paintbrush.

            The last night before Mother’s departure, I decided I would return the brush. Personally.

 

            I laid awake on my cot, eyes alert and ears alert to every sound. I slept in my clothes the night before, pretending to sleep while August finally fell asleep. I caught small hours of sleep, but otherwise waited until early morning.

            Then in the silence of the morning, a sound of large clopping stone hooves.

            I crept out of my cot, taking one last look at my brother sleeping peacefully before leaving the room. Careful to keep my footsteps quiet, I finally got the door and gently shut it. I stared at the little cottage with its sunken roof and said a silent goodbye to the family inside.

            The snowy path ahead was empty. There was no horse in sight, only that heavy sound of its hooves in the morning gloom. I felt my body tense. This must’ve been what small animals felt before being pounced, I thought as I waited. The end is coming. I just don’t know when.

            Finally, the horse strode into view. Mother’s words didn’t do it justice: It towered over me, six or seven feet tall at least. Its body cracked with every movement, yet the cracks reformed instantly like an invisible sculptor continually repairing its creation. Its black eyes seemed to stare everywhere at once. Its stone mane hung like stalactites.  The horse breathed hard, a hollow sound like wind blowing through a canyon blasting from its flaring nostrils.

            It moved its large head, and I flinched. Upon opening my eyes, I saw that it now bowed, its leather saddle open to me.

            “What do you think you’re doing, young man?!” A familiar voice shouted. Mother was striding toward me and the horse, expression manic. “Get back in the house right now!”

            With all my strength, I stood firm. “No,” I answered, voice shaking.

            “This is my responsibility!” She said, hand to her chest. Her eyes were filling with tears. “Well? Get back inside, damn you!”

            “Mother,” I said, grabbing her shoulders. “You don’t have to worry.” I fought back my tears. “You’re more important.”

            “Please let me go,” she said over and over, her pleas turning to sobs. “Please just let me go, Marius.”

            My own tears flowed freely, the sudden heat stinging my cold cheeks. I hugged Mother, who clutched me tight, sobbing into my chest. “I love you, Mom. I love you and Connie and August and everyone.” I broke the embrace and climbed onto the saddle. Mother fell to her knees, her body heaving with her sobs as the horse and me disappeared into the forest.

Author's Note

General thoughts, is it readable, are you bored with it.
MAKE SURE YOU'VE READ THE EARLIER CHAPTERS. Full context is more important for story critiques.