Beneath, part 7

It wasn’t long before the grand mother emerged from the hovel and took the ratty old clothes she left in their stead a cloth for drying and a dress, mentioning that it was a gift from one of her daughters.  Sasha thanked the old woman and let the warmth of the water boil her a while longer. She could feel the eyes watching her from around the corner, but she didn’t look to see to which boy they might belong. After she had been thoroughly transformed she emerged from the bath, with nothing but her scares to remind her of the life she suffered before. She rolled her fingers, then her toes, her ankles, her shoulders all with a new refreshed life, relieved of pain. She slipped into the dress quickly, taking only a moment to reflect on its appearance. It was long and an earthy red with a belt to fit the waist. She cinched the belt and quickly moved into the home to help old Demy.

Sasha had no idea how she might look until she entered the little kitchen and Demy, who had been working diligently, stopped and eyed her. The old matron’s reaction startled the girl so much that she looked down at herself trying to see what had disturbed the old woman. A brilliant scar showed over the low neckline of the dress, and without thought as to why she pulled her hands over the vibrant mark that spanned over her breast.

She felt terribly embarrassed until the grandmother spoke, “I couldn’t have begun to imagine how beautiful you were in those old rags.”

Sasha looked down at herself again and found the form of her womanly curves. Lines that she could have sworn flat and straight at one time were now round and full. Suddenly she was a woman, and she had not noticed its coming for she had been in the dark. At realizing this she was embarrassed a new. She had been so young when she was locked away it was easy to forget that she had changed in body as much as in mind.

“Come here my darling and help me with the meal.”

Sasha obeyed, but it was quickly apparent that she was useless in the kitchen. The young men came in to find that old Demy was trying to maintain a level of calm as poor Sasha struggled with even the simplest kitchen tasks.

“Didn’t your mother ever learn you to cook sorceress?” said Daniel jokingly.

It took Sasha a moment to realize that the boy was speaking to her as she fought with a bread mixture for their dinner. Her panic made her rather oblivious.

“I haven’t seen my mother in more than 15 years,” she said as she beat at the doughy mass.

“But you made such a lovely porridge the other morning Deary?”

“That’s porridge, it’s easy. Every soldier learned to make it during the war.”

There was a pause, the magnitude of which eluded Sasha. It took a long moment before she realized that all in the room waited for further explanation. She continued to half consciously knead the bread as she tried to recall her life’s story.

“I was about 4 years old when it was found that I had ‘The Gift’. That was when they took me away to the Wizard house. By rights I should have gone to a Witch’s Convent, but our town was too small to have one, so I was taken to the Wizards’ instead. My mother and father left me there and I have not seen them all these years since. In truth I cannot even be sure they are still alive, though it wouldn’t surprise me if they were and had more children to replace me for they were still very young. It was at the Wizard house that I learned to use magics, and how to spar, and many other things. I never learned to cook though. There was always a servant that cooked for us, so it was never necessary for me to know the skill.”

“Was the sparring where you got all those scars?” asked Nathan before he could think to stop himself.

While the question should have offended her greatly, she showed no signs of bother and answered without delay, “Some, but others I got in the war… or after.”

“It’s impossible,” Daniel said, “You would have still been a child during the war.”

“I was about eight years, and already far superior to my masters in the Wizard house. That was why I was conscripted under Lord Byron’s colors, along with all the superior magicians in the region.”

“You fought for the revolution?!” Nathan gawked, leaning forward on his arms.

“Yes. Not that I knew what that meant at the time. I fought for my house, and that was all. Byron had heard of my impressive magic and hired the entire group of us on the spot. My masters were proud of me, and Bryon’s Generals made it clear right away what was expected of me. I was not to be treated as a child. One, General Gunther, gave me this,” she said as she gestured to the long scar across her bosom, “on my first day with the army.”

“How monstrous,” said old Demy, listening closely from the fireplace.

“If you find this cruel you should see the mark I left on him,” Sasha smiled, “He made it clear to me that no one would treat me as any less of a solider than any other man in his army. He made me see that I had to be strong, and so I was. He is what helped make me what I am. He taught me sword play, defense, offense, strategy, just about anything worth learning, really. I became the greatest warrior that had ever been seen because of him. No one stood to defy me, no one would dare.”

“Then why did the Revolution fail?” asked James, finally speaking.

“There was… an attack. By my sixteenth birthday I had been moved up to the highest councils with the most powerful wizards and witches in the empire. By that time it had become our war rather than the lords’. They became little more than pawns supplying funds and men. We thought that we were all invincible, and that left us vulnerable. One night while we rested after a brutal day in the campaign there was a terrible attack. It wasn’t just soldiers, but magicians of terrible power. There was just too many of them and we were overwhelmed. I watched as so many were slaughtered, my friends and family. We had no choice but to surrender. I didn’t know that I had chosen the worse fate. That was when they locked me away from the world in dungeons so deep that the sun cannot find them.

“They shaved my head until it shined,” which stunned her audience since her hair now flowed past her shoulders, “They beat me, tortured me, and when they lost all use of me I was left alone in that dark place in chains garnished with powerful spells so I could not escape.”

“What kind of enchantment could block your magic from aiding you?” asked James.

“It was nefarious really, the spell on the maniacal converted magic into pain,” she said as she felt her wrists, “I suffered a great deal before I accepted my fate. I had even given into the thought of dying when suddenly they came and released me. In all honesty I didn’t think they would set me free. It seemed as though they had every intention of keeping me locked up in the darkness until I died.”

Sasha gingerly pushed around the dough feeling the consolatory glances of all those who surrounded her. She felt old Demy’s hand on her shoulder. She met the old woman’s eye for a moment and saw all the pity in this world in a single woman.

Sasha would have been crushed by their pity if old Demy had not then said, “You’re going to over work that dough deary,” and she shouldered the girl away and began to work the bread with her own hands, “Go grab the pot off the fire and bring it to the table, if you please.”

And with that simple gesture all the pain was forgotten into the past and life continued forward rather than back. They ate their meal with great fervor, and Daniel picked up again with his future bride and her loveliness. It didn’t take long before there were stories flying on every subject. Soon even Sasha found stories of her life with the Wizards being shared evenly with the simple country life of this family.

“One family is more or less like the next really, even one that is found rather than had into,” old Demy said after the boys had gone back to their work preparing the roof.

“I didn’t know what a real family was like,” she said dreamily, “But I never felt I was missing anything. It’s good to know that I didn’t.”

After the dishes were finished the two women went to watch the hard working boys. They all worked to gather the thatching for the new roof. They worked quickly, but never missed opportunity for conversation. They were all so very close, real blood brothers. It warmed her soul that there was a place that families could exist without hate, away from the ravages of war and destruction.

They talked the entire afternoon until dinner, and then into the evening after the meal. She was welcomed into their intimate lives as though she had always belonged. When the time for bed came they begrudgingly parted for the night. The young men set up diligently in the room Sasha had used her first night, and Sasha moved in with Demy.

She slipped off the belt that cinched her dress and fell onto the blanket mattress that was hers. She felt very tired but knew she would not be able to sleep. Instead she remembered the faces of those long gone. Their voices echoed off the endless walls of her mind. It seemed that the images faded the harder she tried to find them. Taya and Alan were the only faces she could recall with any clarity, and they looked always disappointed.

Sasha ran her hands over her face. No matter what she did she could not escape those pained faces. She tried to force the thoughts away, but they only got brighter and more vivid. Taya and Alan went from disappointed to hurt to suffering. She could see Taya’s eyes. They screamed, ‘help me.’ Sasha could hear Taya’s voice echoing through her mind, “Please, we need you.” Sasha’s eyes shot open and she sat up. She could still hear the echoing as she walked out of the little cottage into the night. Old Demy called after her, but she was too distracted to hear or answer, the suffering was still too fresh in her mind.

She could feel the withering pain of torture. She tried to push it away but it was still real in her mind. She sat down on the grass outside the little hovel in the cold night. The wind chilled her, but she did not fight it. She wanted to be made numb once more. She didn’t want any more of the suffering of sensation. Her eyes watered with the effort to keep them open. She feared that if she closed them she would see the faces again. She wanted to believe that it was only a feeling that told her that her lieutenants were in danger, but she knew it was more. She watched out over the field all through the night trying not to blink.