The ringing in Benold's ears was insufferable. Benold opened his mouth to complain, only to cough and sputter. The taste of blood filled his mouth. Pain in his chest followed. Soon, his whole body ached. Bleary eyes parted and the blue haze of a cloudy dawn bewildered him. He heard birds chirping merrily, incongruous to his current agony. Despite sensations trying to dissuade him from moving, Benold managed to sit up and look around. His gig had a rather intimate yet disastrous encounter with a tree. What remained as a heap on the ground, ribs exposed. The wild animals had got to it. And yet he was left untouched.
Benold tried to remember the previous night. He was coming back from the festival with Caorain. And he was very tired. Oh no!
"Caorain!?" Benold barely managed to croak out her name. He tried to repeat it louder, but was cut off in a fit of coughing. He put his hand to his mouth, and felt it moisten. Peering at his dirt encrusted fingers, he saw fresh red blood. Benold rolled onto his hands and feet and crawled towards the smashed vehicle. He brushed green shards out of his way and tugged on at a loose panel Furs clumped beneath the overturned vehicle, but Caorain was absent.
Using the trunk of a sturdy oak, Benold dragged himself to his feet. His legs shook and knees felt as though they might buckle at any moment. His chest felt as if a tight band were constricting it. "Caorain?" Benold called feebly, hoping to hear her call back. Nothing.
This would never had happened if I could still afford my equipage. This would never have happened if I didn't let Asion bully me into going to that festival. Benold's thoughts went on and on of who all was to blame for his current predicament. He blamed everything and everyone except himself.
Feeling sorry for himself wasn't going to save him. Benold sifted through the debris, until he found his rifle. It was loaded, but he could not find the rest of the bullets. No matter. One shot was all he needed in most cases, and it was heavy enough to use as a club. It also doubled as a walking stick, although it chagrined him to use his darling in such a way. But he needed to find Caorain.
Benold limped as he beat around the foliage, looking to see if Caorain had been thrown into some of the low lying brambles. Clinging to a branch was a light shred of fabric. He could not remember what she wore the previous night, though he was sure it was white, or at least light coloured. Feeling tightness again, Benold loosened his cravat and unfastened his vest and continued.
Eventually the trail led to a small clearing. Benold was surprised to see Caorain reclined on a bed of wild flowers, leaned up against a large willow. Resting its head in her lap was a creature he'd always thought was mere myth. A unicorn.
The animal was truly magnificent, with its shimmering white coat that no mere horse could achieve. Its delicate pink nose quivered as nostrils flared and its thickly lashed blue eyes opened. The spiral horn jutting from its forehead was formidable indeed. Its mane was immaculate and its body slender, more cervidian than equine, down to the cloven hooves. Its ears, which now pinned against its head, were large and donkey-like, as was the tail which only had a short tassel of hair at the end of its whip-like appendage. The majestic beast lifted its head and stared directly at Benold.
"...Caorain. Are you... is she..." Benold muttered, uncertain how intelligent unicorns were. He had high doubts any creature of myth that only approached maidens could have much wit.
Caorain, whose eyes were closed, did not move. Benold took a few shambling steps forward. However, he froze when the unicorn abruptly rose and shook its mane. Ears pinned back and head held high, it flashed the whites of its eyes. Benold put his hands out in a placating manner. "Easy now... I'm not going to hurt you." Benold grimaced, and one of his hands immediately withdrew, going to his sore ribs.
The unicorn stamped one of its feathered feet and gave another shake of its trailing mane. It moved between Benold and Caorain, lowering its head and pointing its horn towards Benold. He attempted to retreat a step, but his knees gave out and he fell to the ground. The shock left him gasping painfully for air. His efforts were rewarded with yet more blood and spittle issuing from his mouth. This seemed to offend the unicorn as it reared up, legs flailing in the air and it let out a shrill bugling sound, sounding more like an elk in rut than a horse.
Benold immediately grabbed his rifle and pushed his back up against a tree for support. The mythical beast reared again, screaming louder, assaulting Benold's already aching head with its horrible sounds. What happened to chimes and tinkling of bells that were spoken of in legend? Benold was certain it was about to charge and he rested his finger on the trigger. To his surprise, though, it calmed down.
"Benold..." Caorain's voice was quiet, but urgent. "No. No hurt..." Caorain weakly held up a hand. The unicorn's ears swivelled back then flopped forward as it craned its slender, arched neck to look at her. Caorain said something else in a soothing voice, and Benold reluctantly lowered his weapon.
"Caorain... you are... alive..." Benold strained to speak.
"You hurt," Caorain frowned and rose. The unicorn nuzzled her, and she patted its nose affectionately. Benold squinted his eyes at the unicorn. To him, it looked smug. Somehow. She gazed into its blue eyes for a moment, muttering something to it.
"But you... are you...?" Benold could not get out all the words. With the relief of a de-escalated confrontation, adrenaline ebbed away, leaving exhaustion in its wake
Caorain twirled the unicorn's small downy beard around her finger. "He help me."
That was all very well, but now what? Benold was relieved that Caorain seemed to be alright, but now he had his own injuries to worry about. And in his effort to go save her, which she didn't need, he wasted valuable time that could have been spent finding a doctor. Benold tried to get to his feet, but he could barely lift his arms now, let alone motivate his legs to bear his weight. "Caorain... get... help."
Everything faded to black.
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Benold stood in a grove. A limpid pool caught the morning sun through the trees, glittering and dancing. He glanced down at his bloody hands, then at the pond, which was pure and inviting. He crouched down, about to lower his hands into the water when he halted. His reflection showed a version of him with bull's horns. Beside him he saw Trosyn, holding a premature calf in her arms. Its large eyes bulged out from sunken sockets and its ribs were visible in sharp relief. Its legs were thin and spindly and did not look as though it could hold its own weight.
Excitement tingled up and down Benold's spine. Grotesque as the calf may be, he was eager to see her. To be near her. To touch her. He stood up and turned to embrace her, but no one stood with him at the pool's edge. Confused, he looked back at the pool, where she remained standing, tilting her head to him curiously. Benold crouched down again, reaching to the pool. The ripples that spread from his touch interfered with the image and Trosyn faded away. In anger, Benold struck the water, splashing himself in the process. It stung. The pool burned bright and he tried to shield himself from the searing sensation, but the light engulfed him.
Moments later he was standing in a foggy, empty space. From the mist came a man with pale skin, long white hair and beard, and plain white clothes. Although his hair was white, his features appeared ageless. In his hand he carried a flute with a spiral pattern. His face scrunched with disgust.
"Filthy mortal."
Benold tried to protest this verbal abuse, but could not make a sound.
"You spit poison and ravage our lands." The pale man took another step forward. "You conspired to take our Patriarch Guardian from us."
Again Benold tried to say something in his defence, but all that came out was an airy squeak.
"You tethered him and tore him asunder, until all that remained was rage." The man brought the flute to his lips, but there was something dangerous in his ice blue eyes. "I shall play your heart song."
The man's countenance turned serene as he played a few enchanting notes on his flute. A throbbing in his chest turned to a sharp pain, as if something were trying to burrow out through his back. Benold closed his eyes and could envision his heart beating. Wedged behind it was a mote of light. It grew brighter as the song continued. He saw the light by itself in darkness, and a silvery string attached to it. Fragile and seemingly invisible at times, the gossamer thread led into the distance. He could hear waves crashing and suddenly the din of voices all around him, muffled and ranging in volume as if he were passing through a tunnel. Finally, the end of the thread was revealed. He saw Trosyn curled up in a dark corner, her face glistening with sweat, her belly enlarged, and a pool of blood at her bare feet.
The music stopped and he was again in the misty expanse. The pale man lowered the flute from his lips. "I can only heal those who are pure and chaste. But I can see the pieces that fit together. You are bound, though the tether is frail. If not for this, I would impale you, regardless of the maiden's entreaties." The man blew on his flute again, but this time the sound was a discordant shriek.
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Benold awoke suddenly. The first thing he saw was Caorain standing over him. He lifted a hand to touch her face, but she pulled away. Benold heard the impudent bugle of the unicorn and the stamping of hooves.
Caorain stood up and put out her hand. Benold hesitated, then took it, and she helped him to his feet. He still hurt all over, but knowing Caorain was alright made it somehow bearable. He snuck a glare at the unicorn, who snorted and pawed at the ground. "He..." she made a shooing motion with her free hand. She then howled like a wolf, starting Benold.
"He scared... the... wolves?" Benold asked. Caorain tilted her head, thinking the laboured words over and then nodded.
"Wolves?" She made a quieter facsimile of a howl and Benold nodded.
Benold looked down, noticing that he had been bandaged up, at the expense of Caorain's now frayed frock. The amount of leg she was showing was scandalous! But thinking matters over, he was glad she was resourceful. He then peered at the unicorn which pointed its horn menacingly at him. "Let's... go."
The two continued their long trek back to the dirt road they had been travelling on. Many times Benold wanted to just pass out and give up. He was tired. He struggled to breathe. His body ached. His limbs didn't work right. But Caorain kept pulling him along, encouraging him as best she could with her limited vocabulary.
Just as Benold was considering giving up for the twenty-third time, he thrust his head head up upon hearing hooves. He looked around alertly, almost afraid that the unicorn had changed its mind and came to gore him after all. He gripped his rifle tighter, but then heard the unmistakable sound of wheels. Relief and hope all flooded into his aching chest and he went to call out, but only managed to cough instead. Caorain supported him as he wheezed and spasmed.
Around the bend came a horse cart and Benold tried to stand on his own so he could flail an arm to flag the traveller down. As the cart grew nearer he realised he recognized the driver. More relief, mixed with wonder, overwhelmed Benold and he nearly collapsed. Caorain caught him just in time , to which he was simultaneously grateful and mortified. He also remembered Caorain's torn skirt and stepped in front of her for her own modesty, trying again to stand on his own.
"Well, well, Guv," came the familiar voice of Stellan as he brought the cart to a rolling stop. "You look like you got trampled."
"Just... nearly..." Benold placed a hand along the flank of the horse to steady himself. "But what..."
"What am I doing here? I got worried when you didn't return." Stellan got down and helped Caorain into the cart, and then Benold. "Good thing I did."
"Yes..." Benold was just a bit too tall to lie out flat in the cart, so he raised his knees and placed his hands on his stomach, staring at the sky. Caorain knelt beside him.
"Good and ready?" Stellan asked. Given a grunt in the affirmative, he clicked his tongue at the horse and they set off for home. "So what happened?"
"Wolves... "
"Ah. Well. So long as it isn't bandits." Stellan remarked. "We'll talk more once the doctor has seen you."
"Thank you."
No longer focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, Benold finally had time to think about the dream he had. He was certain the man in the dream was the unicorn being unreasonably judgmental. While he had made some mistakes, he did not think himself filthy nor deserving of skewering. Had he known what critical creatures they were he wouldn't have used them as a motif for one of his guest rooms.
Thinking deeper about the dream, he remembered the sight of Trosyn with an emaciated calf in her arms. It made him uncomfortable to recall. As for the image of her in that dark place, was that just a projection of his fear, or was the unicorn able to give him a glimpse of Trosyn's fate? Was Trosyn alone, sick and injured? He needed to get to her.
Benold winced as his body tensed, bringing back the pain from his injury. He felt a soothing hand placed on his forehead and he relaxed. Opening his eyes, he saw Caorain peering down at him with a look of concern.
He had Caorain at his side, caring for him. Was it simply reciprocation? Was it just her being a good person that cared for others? Was it her upholding her duty as a wife? These questions plagued Benold's mind and weighed heavy on his conscience, as the crash laid heavy upon his chest. She was at his side and that ought to be enough. But all he could think of was the haunting image of Trosyn in trevail, and how he must reach her and save her somehow. Benold lifted his hand, groping around until he found Caorain's, to give it a squeeze.
"Caorain. I failed..." Benold had this speech in his mind, but when it came to say the words, he was too sore and exhausted for the eloquent execution he had imagined. "...as a husband. Not your fault. You tried." Benold closed his eyes again, not having the courage to see her reaction.
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"I think that's all I can remember. It's different looking at a map versus actually being there." Stellan gently pushed the map away from himself, fanning the wet ink. Benold brought the oil lamp closer, squinting at the additions Stellan made.
"This will have to do." Benold pinched the bridge of his nose. "We leave in three days."
"So soon? Are you quite healed enough for a voyage?" Stellan wiped the ink smudges off the tips of his fingers as best as he could as he stared at Benold with incredulity.
"I will have the additional week on the ship to rest. A couple bottles of wine should see me through." Benold leaned back and stretched, grimacing at the cacophony of cracks that assailed his ears. He attributed that to his recent injury, refusing to accept it as a sign of his advancing age.
"If it was just your neck you were risking I wouldn't speak up. But if you perish, what happens to Caorain?" Stellan deigned to ask.
"She'll be taken care of." Benold waved his hand. "I've already seen my solicitor. She is to be provided with her share of inheritance in the form of livestock and sent back to her village. Encumbering her with this estate would just set her up for exploitation."
"Well then I bid you goodnight," Stellan bowed with mock respect and left promptly. Benold sighed, turned out the lamps, save for one which he carried with him to his bedroom.
Upon entering his room, he was surprised to see Caorain sitting cross-legged on his four-post bed. "What brings you here?"
"I hear. Three days?" Caorain said, holding up three fingers.
Benold nodded as he walked over to his vanity, setting the lamp down. "That is right. I do not know how long I will be away. I need you to stay this time. You and Mrs. Gray must take care of the house while I am away. Can you do that for me?"
Caorain nodded her head. "You... Can you..." Caorain tried the words he used back at him. "Can you do come back for me?"
Benold was about to tear apart her awkwardly stitched sentence, but just smiled at her instead. "I will try to come back, Caorain." Although he was unsure how she'd feel about his return when he brought Trosyn with him. He just kept holding on to the hope that the two women would get along somehow.
"Good." Caorain placed her hands on her knees. Benold stared at her in silence. She stared back at him. The silence verged on awkward.
"Was that all? If so... good night, Caorain.".
Caorain shook her head. "I stay."
"Caorain... I know you are just trying to do your duty. I respect that. But if something happens to me, wouldn't it be easier for you to find a new husband if... we don't?" Seeing Caorain's eyebrows draw together in confusion, Benold sighed and sat beside her. "Just think, if we'd consummated our marriage, that unicorn wouldn't have saved you." Caorain scoffed. "Look. If I come back, we'll sort it all out then. If I don't return, you will go back to your village with sheep and pigs. A horse even, if you want. All yours. Surely that will make you desirable to the other men in the village? Or maybe you could live independently and chase some other dream."
Caorain was silent, her gaze going distant, eyes darting side to side. After a moment she looked at Benold, eyes narrow. "But... you come back with Trosyn."
"Yes. That is what I want."
"Trosyn maybe like me not. Make me go," Caorain predicted, worry lines forming on her forehead.
"No!" Benold held his palms out. "No, Trosyn would not do that to you." Benold placed a hand on Caorain's shoulder.
"Why wait?" Caorain placed a hand on Benold's cheek, flinching when she saw him look away. "I go back, they see a bad wife."
"No! You're not a bad wife. I'm just a bad husband." As much as it pained Benold to think himself flawed in any way, he could not escape the fact that he was quite negligent. He did not even want to admit to being her husband at first.
"Why?" Caorain asked, her hand going to his shoulder instead. "Why be bad husband?"
"I..." Benold sighed. It really was intolerable that he, a gentleman, had to explain himself. His knee-jerk reaction of puffing up and commanding Caorain to stop asking was suppressed. Instead he looked down at his own lap, placing his hands on his thighs. That wasn't enough. He clasped his hands and placed them on his lap. "I guess... I'm not like some men who don't mind so long as they get some pleasure out of the affair. It took trial and error to figure out how I liked things done, and how Trosyn did too. I'm not a barbarian who doesn't consider the comfort of his partner. That said, I don't want to go through that awkward stage again with someone new." Benold twiddled his thumbs and stared across the room. "At least, not without the ability to communicate better."
There was a silence that followed. Benold rolled back his shoulders but did not dare look at Caorain, as he was feeling quite foolish in having to explain this to anyone. Just as he was about to try and swear her to secrecy, he heard a most horrid sound. Laughter. Benold gawked at Caorain, whose hand covered her mouth and she suppressed the urge to giggle further. Benold stammered indignations at Caorain's audacity. He bore his soul to her, and she LAUGHED!
"That's it! Go! Get out!" Benold said, throwing his arm wide and pointing to the door. Caorain's hand remained over her mouth as her eyebrows lifted. She looked at the door and then back at Benold with incredulity.
"Sorry! We talk with words. But we talk not with words, too." Caorain's tone took on a grating matter-of-fact tone, as if she were explaining the obvious to a child. This did not improve Benold's mood. He shook his hand and pointed again to the door with emphasis.
Benold fully expected her to bow her head in shame and meekly comply. He did not anticipate she would stand up, place her hand over his banishing finger and then kiss him. In his riled up state, it created such confusion in the emotionally bruised man that he could do little more than drop his arm and blink in a stuport. Before he could get his thoughts in order Caorain was on her feet, patting Benold on the cheek.
"Okay. I go. But need not words. Need not awkward. But you need calm." Caorain gave an amused shake of her head and turned to leave, leaving a very bewildered and bothered Benold in her wake.