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Virelai of Green Eyes
by
Yael Wiesenfeld
Prologue
Virelai watched Armida make her mask. This mask, she thought, will save my life,
and the lives of the men around me. She thought over what had happened. When she
was ten, Armida told her about the charm. Only men were affected by the
mysterious charm of her eyes, and so Armida had brought up the little girl in
her isolated wood cottage, away from the world. But now, at age sixteen, Virelai
had to go out in the open, to meet people, and to be taught sorcery. Virelai
watched as Armida cut the green velvet into a simple cat’s-eye shape. It was
time for Armida to work her magic. She took countless pieces of black thread,
and wove them tightly into a complicated spiral pattern, whispering magic spells
as she worked. She fixed the magical screen onto the velvet frames, and then
stood back to admire her handiwork. In the village nearby (which wasn’t very
nearby- due to Virelai they lived miles away from anybody) where she sold her
creations, not many knew Armida’s name, and all called her “Magichands”. She
handed the mask to Virelai, who slipped it on. It was perfect.
“Never take off the mask!” Armida warned Virelai once again, and then hung
around her neck the golden gate key. As Virelai fingered the green leather cord,
the black obsidian set in the handle glinted in the sun’s light. Virelai walked
outside, amazed at her freedom. She had not stepped outside for fifteen years,
since age one, when Armida had found her, crying on the riverbank. She set off
to the village, her head filled only with childish thoughts of what she would
buy at the market.
Virelai walked out of the breakfast room, watching the girls chat in the corner.
They turned toward her, ready to continue their long run argument, and Virelai
started to run back to the dormitories, but they caught up.“Tell me!” cried
Jemaril, reaching out to touch Virelai’s mask.
“Yeah, green eyes, why are you wearing that!?” asked Lorinela. Virelai was sick
of it.
“My eyes are grey, not green, and leave me alone!” she yelled.
“Grey eyes! Cool! Show me!” said Jemaril with a contemptuous smile. Virelai ran
down the corridor to her dormitory.
Milan was already in the room, writing an essay for potions. She saw the tears
running down Virelai’s cheeks and immediately ran to console her friend.
“I wish I didn’t have this charm! I wish I was normal!” Milan had gathered that
Virelai had some sort of charm, and it had to do with her startlingly grey eyes.
Of course Milan was the only one who had seen Virelai’s perfectly normal looking
(except for the color) eyes. Though it was a girl’s only school, there were
professors who were men. And there was one other reason. Armida repeatedly told
Virelai not to tell about the charm. And if the girls weren’t curious enough
already, seeing Virelai’s normal eyes would make them even more so. Now, Virelai
got up, locked the door, and took off her mask.
“Virelai?” Milan asked. “Could you teach me how to brew up a love potion?”
Virelai was a whiz at potions.
“Sure” she said. Ironic, she thought, ‘I’ll never need one of those!, With a sly
smile she said, “is your class doing that? Prof. Reveres said he would never
teach us that when lorelina asked….”
“Well………………” Milan began.
“Who’s the special someone!?”
Virelai stirred the frothing pot, her eyes watering from the steam. You’d think
a love potion would be pink or red, but as Virelai added a golden strand of
Milan’s hair and a jet black strand from Milan’s beloved’s head(Milan had not
told her how she got this, and Virelai did not really want to know), the thick
goop turned a happy orange color that reminded her of early sunsets. One of
Virelai’s own strawberry-red hairs flew into her eyes, and she blew it away. She
glanced at the sundial on the windowsill, and her mouth formed a perfect o of
surprise. “Milan! I have astronomy-continue to stir this for the next hour or
so! Got to go!”
Ten minutes later, Virelai kneeled on the cold stone of the balcony floor,
looking up at the night sky. “Take off that silly mask, Virelai, and you’ll be
able to see better!” bellowed professor sostaric. A good half of the class
turned away from their telescopes to see Virelai’s reaction to this. ‘Do you
want to fall in love with me, you old fool?’ said Virelai in her head. Out loud,
she had to settle for a simple “I can’t.”
“Tsk, tsk.” Replied the professor. “The headmistress will be hearing about
this.” The onlookers turned away as Virelai smiled to herself. The headmistress
knew about her charm. She carefully pinpointed Mars in the sky and marked it on
her chart.
The famed evil sorceress Morgan paced her palace corridor. She thought of
Siphon….....Her prophecy…….Virelai, now a young girl of 17……..she would bring
Morgan’s downfall! No wonder, Vivian’s daughter…….when I saw her pregnant, I
should have brought her a miscarriage, but I couldn’t bear to do that to
Vivian…….she was my loyal sister for years until she turned against me.(Or until
Morgan turned against her, as anyone except Morgan herself would say) Aloud,
Morgan cried, “I summon Vivian!”
Vivian suddenly appeared in the corridor. She was slender and tall, with a
strong but womanly build, like Morgan’s. Her perfectly tapered oval eyes were
narrowed, and her straight, rose-red hair was curled onto a wide bun fastened
with an ivory clip. She was wearing a long empire-waist dress of her favorite
color, green, and the sacred diamond symbol lay just above the neckline on a
golden chain weaved with green beads.
“Take that thing off!” yelled Morgan, gesturing toward the pendant.
“Why should I?” retorted Vivian. Morgan scratched a long black nail along
Vivian’s arm. “I know that hurts you more than it hurts me,” Vivian said slowly.
But she did take the necklace off, dropping it into her green beaded satchel.
Morgan relaxed. “So do you know what is happening? What am I saying, you have
known all along.”
“True.” replied Vivian.
“I could tell you were lying when you told me your baby was stillborn, but I
assumed it was because you were worried that I would kill her.” Morgan said
bitterly.
“It was my luck you didn’t know. But Siphon and her prophecies alerted you.”
said Vivian.
“If you know about that,” asked Morgan, “then why didn’t I know about your baby?
Her charm, her prophecy.”
“Oh yes, I figured you would ask that. It’s not as if I really know myself, but
I suppose it is because there are some things only mothers know about their
children.” Vivian replied.
“I have no more need of you,” Morgan said. Vivian disappeared.
Virelai adjusted her mask, and then finally just pulled it off, tears welling up
inside it. She looked at the letter again, it’s clean black writing almost
illegible from her tears.
‘We regret to inform you that your guardian, Armida, was murdered in her house
on the 7th day of the month of planting, at unknown timing. We have been
informed that you will turn eighteen next month, and so you will not need a
legal guardian. You will inherit Armida’s house and money, which will sustain
you until you get a steady job.
The International Guardian Confederation’
“Who would kill Armida? She was always so, so nice to everyone!” sobbed Virelai.
“Virelai? Do you want to be alone? If you do, I’ll stay out,” called Milan from
outside the door.
“No, Milan. I actually could use a friend right now.” Virelai answered, wiping a
tear off one cheek.
“I summon Morgan!”
“What, Vivian dear? Are you mad at your sister for murdering the ugly old lady?”
Morgan sneered.
“Yes, Morgan, in fact I am.” Vivian replied, her eyes glaring daggers into
Morgan.
“Well, if you hadn’t put so many protection charms on that little girl of yours,
I would have gone straight to her.”
“Morgan! There is no need to bring innocent mortals into this!” Vivian cried.
“Ah, but Vivian, doesn’t this all come down to the lives of innocent mortals, as
you call them?” Morgan replied, snickering. “I mean, isn’t this all about
whether or not I will get your dear son, Eros’s throne?”
“You!” screamed Vivian, “You will never-I-you-I will protect him, and my little
Virelai, too!” Morgan disappeared.
“Virelai, Virelai! Guess what- the boy I like – he’s going to live with his
friend –in Rollsage village!” Milan shrieked.
“Calm down Milan.” Virelai said slowly. “Is this your way of asking me if you
can come live with me?”
“Well …..Yes?” Milan replied sweetly.
“Sure; I’ll need a friend; you’ll have to work, though.”
“Yes! It’s a triple deal; I get the guy I like, I get to live with my best
friend, and I escape that horrid step mom of mine!” Milan said gleefully.
“Yeah.” Said Virelai very quietly.
“Oh Virelai, I’m so sorry!” Milan cried out, hugging her friend. She knew that
it bothered Virelai when she talked about her stepmother, because Virelai didn’t
have anyone to care for her, not even a horrible step mom.
“It’s ok. It’s not your fault, Milan, I shouldn’t be so emotional.” Virelai
said, wiping a tear from under her mask.
Milan still hadn’t gotten a chance to sneak the potion into her loved one’s
drink, and Virelai was beginning to constantly remind her that it was going to
spoil, in a fortnight. In fact, also in a fortnight school was to finish. Milan
and Virelai would return to Charitomene’s little house, the key to which Virelai
kept always around her neck. Milan’s boy would return to live with his friend in
Rollsage village, and Jemaril, Lorinela and the other girls would go back to
their parents and all their rich little lives, which Virelai and Milan were very
happy about.
Vivian was worried. Morgan would soon strike out at her daughter or another
person close to her. But if she revealed herself, Virelai would not be able to
stand keeping away from her. Oh, she wanted to be with her so badly! A tear
trickled down Vivian’s cheek, and she wiped it away. She could feel Morgan
listening to her thoughts. ‘Morgan, I am entitled to my own thoughts!’ Vivian
thought. Morgan got the message and left. Vivian knew better, though. Morgan
would be back any minute, hoping that she wouldn’t notice. She lit a scented
candle, breathed in it’s fragrance, and cleared her mind until sleep overcame
her.
Morgan scowled. Vivian was now thinking of blueberries and buttermilk. Her
scented candle trick really did work sometimes. She rolled her eyes. ‘Well, I
might as well take a page out of my sister’s book.’ She thought. ‘I don’t want
her waking and watching my dreams as easily as one would watch a play.’ Morgan
conjured up a ginger-lilac candle and breathed in it’s sweet, yet sharp, scent
before falling asleep herself.
‘You are cordially invited to join our community for the Rollsage village annual
thanksgiving ball. It will be held at midnight on Thanksgiving, in city hall, to
the left of the town square. We await your reply by the 3rd day of the month of
bathing.
-The village council’
Both Virelai and Vivian opened letters bearing this message. Both wrote their
names and both wrote ‘will be honored to’ between ‘will’ and ‘attend’. Both
dripped candle wax to seal the envelope, Vivian’s blue, from the same
blueberry-buttermilk candle, and Virelai’s green, scented of gooseberry and
sage. Both women sent for a messenger, and the messengers took their replies,
one with a 3 mile walk ahead, and one with a long journey. Both women looked
forward to a night full of fun.
Morgan opened this letter as well. If the council wasn’t so afraid of her, her
letter wouldn’t say ‘cordially’. She cackled evilly, but then wrote ‘not’
between the ‘will’ and ‘attend’. The council will be happy, She thought. I do
love torturing people, but I think I might have……plans for that night.
Milan tied the sash on her bathing dress tighter, and began to tie a ribbon in
her soaking wet hair, attempting to wring it out. Virelai did not have the same
ideas. She swam quickly and quietly across the woodland pond, toward where Milan
stood with her back to the water. She crept up and splashed the crisp, cold
water all over Milan’s back. “Virelai!” Milan cried angrily. Then she burst out
in laughter. The two girls jumped into the pond, splashing each other with
water.
Vivian glanced at her dresser and watched this in her magic mirror, smiling.
Even with her charm, she is still a normal girl, She thought, if she only knew
how abnormal, how special she is. Vivian opened her wardrobe, showing a display
of green dresses in shades of gooseberry and emerald. She thought about
Virelai’s mask, green, her favorite color. She picked out a long gown. It’s
bodice was embroidered with thousands of tiny clear beads, and it’s skirt flowed
over five layers of white chiffon. She set it aside for the ball, lost in though
about the first time she had worn it. It had been a royal ball, and she had
taken her son, Eros, then only five, and her husband…..into a side room, to tell
them that she was pregnant, with Virelai. She smiled again, recalling how she
told Eros, “you are going to have a new baby brother or sister!”, and how he had
grinned so widely, and how disappointed he had been when he learned that he
would have to wait nine months. She thought of Eros now, the young man, how he
wished that he could get to know his sister, how she wished she could satisfy
his wishes. She fondly touched the ruched sleeve of the dress, and hung it on
her headboard.
The water in the restless pond rippled as a warm breeze blew over the clearing.
Virelai slowly slipped off her turquoise ring, her silver bracelet, and her
beaded necklace. She bent and took off her gold sandals, and then untied and
slipped off her white satin robe. The golden embroidery sparkled as the robe hit
the ground. She carefully waded into the water, and then, lastly, took off the
mask. Virelai slowly swam around the tranquil pool, relaxing herself and looking
around the moonlit forest.
A rustling sound came from the bushes, and out jumped a young man, about
Virelai’s age. He carried a bow and arrow, and wore a gold band in his long
black hair. For a moment, he looked into Virelai’s eyes, and a blinding light
filled the clearing. Virelai realized that she was not wearing her mask, and
turned to put it on. But she knew it was too late. He walked toward the water,
and she stepped out, quickly grabbing the robe and covering herself. She
snatched up the jewelry and sandals, and began to run barefoot through the
forest. “Wait!” cried the boy from behind her. “Stop, wait!” He ran after her,
and she gained speed, her strawberry hair fanning out like a banner behind her.
But the young man ran faster and soon caught up.
“Wait!” he repeated, gripping her arm. “What is your name?” “V-Virelai” Virelai
replied. “Nentres” he said, still gripping her arm, though not as tightly. “I
love you.” A powerful sense came over Virelai, her heart beating faster than it
ever had before, and suddenly she replied, as if somebody was talking through
her, “I love you too.” The two young silhouettes moved closer and closer, until
their lips touched softly in a kiss that to Virelai, seemed almost magical.
Virelai untangled her hand from Nentres’ hair, and remembered something. Armida
had told her that a kiss would probably break the spell. Virelai turned back to
Nentres and blurted out, “do you still love me?” “Well, yes, Virelai, of course
I do.” He answered. “You must still be under the spell” Virelai said softly.
“What spell?” asked Nentres, confused. “I have this charm.” Virelai confessed.
Once Virelai had finished, a tear began to make it’s way down her cheek. “I
don’t know if I’m under the spell or not, but I love you, and nothing is going
to change that.” Nentres said, embracing her in his strong arms. Someone walked
out of the trees.
It was Milan. She took one look at Virelai and Nentres, and ran back into the
bushes, tears running down her cheeks. Virelai looked at the set of trees where
Milan had disappeared, confused. Then she looked back at Nentres, and it
clicked. The love potion……those long, wavy jet black locks……. “Oh no! No, no,
no!” she pushed him away, and ran after Milan. Suddenly she turned back to
Nentres. “Wait,” she said in a rush, “I live in the cottage in the woods!” Then
she ran away into the trees where Milan had last been.
The bat swooped in through the window, and then transformed into Morgan, wearing
a blood red dress with a black sash tied around her bodice. She walked into the
nearest bedroom and realized that it was Milan, not Virelai, in the bed. She
slinked toward the next bedroom, but Virelai was awake, trying to sleep. When
she saw the woman she screamed. Milan heard Virelai and ran through the cottage,
for a moment forgetting their fight. Morgan also ran forward, dagger point out,
to silence Virelai’s shrieks. But Milan was faster.
Milan threw herself over Virelai’s body, looking up at the woman, terrified.
Virelai’s screaming had stopped. She had fainted, and now lay unconscious under
Milan’s rigid form. “Oh you girl!” Morgan shrieked, “If you are willing to put
your life on the line so easily, than, soon, you will meet your end!” Morgan
disappeared and left Milan crying over Virelai’s still body.
Vivian walked quietly out, invisible, from the back of the dresser. She walked
toward the two girls, sleeping silently one on top of another. “Goodbye, my dear
Virelai.” Vivian whispered, kissing Virelai on the cheek. She began to walk out,
but then stopped. She turned back to the sleeping girls, and this time went
towards Milan. “Thank you for saving my daughter,” she whispered, giving Milan a
kiss too. “I think it best-yes, neither of you will remember this in the
morning.”
“Yes, it’s because of you. But it is not your fault” Virelai said. “What is it?”
he asked, kissing her. She broke away. “Well, I shouldn’t tell, but since Milan
hates me anyway…well…she loves you. She had me brew a love potion for her, but
she never had the chance to give it to you, and it spoiled. She thinks that I
meant it, that I wanted to hurt her. That’s why she is so upset” she laid her
head on his shoulder.
“Listen, are you going to the thanksgiving ball?” Nentres changed the subject
“Yes” Replied Virelai, smiling. “Willyougowithme?” Nentres asked very quickly.
“Yes!” cried Virelai.
Vivian turned toward the mirror, and Morgan’s eyes followed. “Aren’t they sweet
Vivian? Pity that she is to die soon” Morgan said.
“Yes, they are sweet, Morgan, and Virelai will not die!” Vivian retorted.
“We’ll see.” Morgan said, giggling.
“A prophesy is always fulfilled, Morgan. You know that as well as I.”
“Goodbye, Vivian.” Vivian dangled the diamond pendant in front of Morgan’s face
before she disappeared.
Vivian sighed. The time had come. Virelai would not become immortal until her
21st birthday, and so, for the next 3 years, Vivian’s only chance of protecting
her from Morgan would be the pendant. Vivian was immortal, but the pendant kept
her from being hurt. Without it, Morgan could, and would, torture her. Morgan
was a powerful sorceress and she could give Vivian pain beyond death. But for
the six months it would take to complete the ceremonies and make a new one,
Virelai would have to wear it. There was no other way.
Vivian shook Virelai awake. “I am your mother, the sorceress Vivian. King Eros
is your brother.” Virelai sat, confused and transfixed, as Vivian went on to
explain about Morgan, the prophecy, and herself. Finally she laid the necklace
on the table, and said, “This necklace will protect you, make you immortal. Wear
it always. When the morning dawns, you will have only snatches of a very good
dream. Now go to sleep. I love you.”
Sunlight poured into the room, waking Virelai. She was tired but happy, thinking
of a good dream that she could not really remember. As she rose from the bed,
she noticed something on her bedside table. It was a beautiful diamond pendant,
and a note that said, in curly blue script, ‘Wear it always.’
Virelai smiled mischievously as she listened to Nentres’ thoughts. “Oh Virelai,
stop it!” he said. Virelai’s only problem with telepathy was that when she
listened in on peoples thoughts, they heard hers too. “And yes,” said Nentres in
response to a question she had been thinking, “I do think you are that pretty.”
She smiled again, and leaned over to hug him. “Pretty necklace too.” He said,
eying the diamond pendant. “Thanks…” Virelai replied. “I got it as a… graduation
present.” “You’re lying. I don’t need telepathic skills to figure that out.”
Nentres said. “Well… to tell you the truth… I am not entirely sure where I got
it.” Nentres knew Virelai well. He did not ask any more questions.
“Vivian! Are you going to the ball on Thanksgiving?” Morgan called from the
hall, where she had just appeared.
“Yes, Morgan, and you?” Vivian replied coldly.
“Yes”, Morgan lied through her teeth, but not before clearing her mind so that
Vivian could not detect her lie. “No doubt planning something evil.” Vivian
said. Oh, yes, Morgan thought.
Tristan, a friend of Milan’s, spotted her walking through the field. “Hey,
Milan!” he called, “D’you have a date for the ball yet?!” “No…” Milan said,
thinking of Nentres sadly. “Go with me?” “Yeah, sure.” Milan said, looking on
the bright side. At least someone liked her. She smiled, walked up to Tristan,
and kissed him on the cheek. As she walked away, she turned back and smirked at
him. His mouth was in a gaping O of surprise.
Virelai pulled on her dress gingerly. Armida had told her that when she had
found her, she was in a basket, wrapped in the dress. It was beautiful, green
with rutching on the sides and neck. Green taffeta over layers and layers of
white chiffon made up the skirt and sleeves. This was the first time Virelai
would ever wear it. She put her hair into a bun, and decorated it with green
emerald clips. Finally, she put on the special mask, one she had gotten
especially for this. It was the same green cat’s eye shape, but it was decorated
with green feathers and emeralds. She was ready.
Vivian slipped on the dress. She pulled back her thick, red hair into a long
ponytail and tied it with a long, thin white ribbon that matched her dress’
bows. She slowly braided her hair into a long, thick plait; the two ends of the
white ribbons weaved into it. Finally, she picked up a glittering hair clip,
shaped like a butterfly and covered in shimmering emeralds. She used it to clasp
the loose ends of her hair and the ribbon. She looked at herself in the mirror
and smiled.
Milan carefully slipped into her gown, a long tube top dress of rich maroon
silk, with white velvet ribbons wound throughout. She took a velvet ribbon like
that of her dress, and wound it around her high bun, tying it into a bow and
letting the ends trail to her shoulder.
Morgan hastily put on a long plain, black dress. She pulled her hair into a
quick messy bun, but then she slowed down to put on her always-perfect makeup.
She painted her lips flawlessly red, and covered her eyes in black. She turned
toward her high black heels, and then slipped on black slippers instead. Tonight
she had to creep quietly.
Virelai walked into the hall, Nentres’ arm around her waist. Vivian walked a few
feet behind her, watching with a smile on her face. She was wearing that dress…
a tear tricked down Vivian’s cheek, as memories overcame her.
Vivian tediously sewed the last stitch into the gown’s taffeta skirt. Tears
flooded down her cheeks. She knew that this was the only way to protect little
Virelai from Morgan, yet she found herself searching for another way. She
slipped a tiny pink mask onto the sleeping baby’s face. She wrote a letter,
explaining Virelai’s charm, and pleading for someone to take her home. She
signed the letter ‘a desperate mother’. She gingerly wrapped the baby in the
soft velvet and silk dress, and put her into the basket. “I love you” she said,
and a tear dropped on to the baby’s cheek.
Milan had resolved to get over Nentres, and was doing so simply by flirting with
all the boys. Though she was not blessed (or cursed) with a love charm, nor as
flawlessly beautiful as Virelai, Milan had her little charms, and no single boy
at the ball could resist her. Tristan was not awfully happy about this. Every
time he asked her to dance, she had already promised Char, or Caleb, or Aaron.
She saw Nentres and Virelai, kissing on a bench in the garden. This was her
chance! She went toward Tristan. “Get us drinks. I’ll meet you on that garden
bench.” She walked to the bench and sat down, watching Virelai and Nentres with
a scowl.
Morgan whispered a simple spell for invisibility, creeping over to hide in the
bushes behind Milan. ‘But how to delay Tristan?’ she thought almost after she
answered her own question. Suddenly, inside the ballroom, Tristan simply forgot
about Milan. He scratched his head and asked the nearest girl to dance.
Morgan was aggravated. Virelai and Nentres were still happily chatting on the
bench. Milan was not happy either. Soon they would leave, and Tristan had still
not returned. Now, to Morgan’s happiness and Milan’s dismay, Nentres helped
Virelai up and led her away. This was Morgan's chance. She slipped out her slim,
sparkling dagger, slowly crept up, and slit Milan's throat.
Light streamed into the room. Nentres waved goodbye to Virelai and she promised
to meet him at eight o’ clock. Virelai was happy that Milan was not there to
witness his visit. ‘And she is probably having a great time with Tristan!’ she
mused. So she walked Nentres to the door, handing him a piece of fresh cornbread
and a clementine for breakfast on the way to the fields.
Virelai took one look at the evening newspaper in her hands and screamed. She
ran, sobbing, back to the cottage. As she ran through the door, she saw Nentres
standing there, even though it was only six. A single, solitary tear ran down
his face. Clearly, he had heard the news too. Virelai ran into his arms. “No,
no!” she cried, shaking her head. “Not Milan! She’s not dead! She can’t be!” she
fell silent, and dropped limply into Nentres’ arms.
“It’s okay.” Nentres repeated over and over, running his hands through her hair,
though he knew it wasn’t, and never would be. “Go, leave.” Virelai said, but she
stayed in his embrace. Finally she broke away, but Nentres picked her up and
carried her to her bed, tucking her in up to her chin.
“Get some sleep.” He whispered before leaving.
Vivian sobbed into her pillow. Her soft satin and velvet bedspread (a 100th
birthday gift from her husband) felt like hewn stone to her. She had to do
something. She would speak to Morgan tomorrow. Now was the time. She had to
truly reveal herself to Virelai, had to comfort her daughter.
Virelai wept into Vivian’s shoulder. Vivian had just told her everything again,
about Morgan, about Milan. “T-the last words I said to her were ‘you don’t
understand!’ and it’s all my fault she’s dead!” Virelai said, sobbing.
“No. how could you say that it’s your fault? It is all Morgan’s fault, and there
was nothing you could do to stop it.” Vivian consoled her. “And about Morgan. I
told you about the prophesy. It must be fulfilled. Soon. Prophecies are not
always fulfilled, and this one must be. There is something called a sorceresses
duel. Your protective charms- the diamond, and Morgan’s bloodstone-” Virelai
remembered the blood red teardrop Morgan wore around her neck “-and you use
spells and daggers, and she- or he- who sheds a tear- loses their immortality-
their life.”
“I will do it.” Virelai said. I will avenge Milan and Armida. She thought.
“Are you sure?” Vivian asked. She wanted it, but was so worried about her
daughter.
“Yes. Tell Morgan.” Virelai replied defiantly.
Vivian walked toward Morgan’s back. She smiled when she noticed the, it’s
teardrop shape making reflections on the walls, resting on the dressing table.
She picked up the diamond pendant, still around her neck, and scratched it
against Morgan’s back. “Arrahh!” Morgan screamed, as black blood oozed from the
cut. “Morgan,” Vivian said, “Virelai challenges you to a sorceresses’ duel.”
“It will be at dawn on the sixth day. I want you to be there.” Virelai finished.
“I will.” Nentres replied seriously, giving her a hug. “Oh no! I’m late for
sword practice!” she suddenly remembered, and dashed out of the room.
“Virelai, dear, hello!” Vivian ran to hug Virelai. “oh, and I would like you to
meet someone. Your brother.” King Eros stood in the clearing, smiling.
“Pleased to meet you.” He said, and the long lost siblings hugged. Vivian handed
Virelai her dagger, a gift to Virelai. It’s blade was made of Diamond, the
hardest substance on earth, and an emerald was set into it’s gold-plated handle.
“Wow!” Virelai gasped, as her mother strapped the scabbard around her waist.
“Now” said Vivian, smiling “I will leave you to practice with Eros.” And with
that, she vanished from the clearing.
Virelai pulled out her leather riding pants, smoothing them out on the rug next
to a clean white blouse. “Who is it?” she cried when she heard the knock.
“I have to practice my swordsmanship.” Virelai said finally.
“don’t worry, I’ll stay and watch!”
“It’s at your own risk, Nentres! Said Virelai, teasing. She unsheathed the
dagger and swiped it remarkably close to Nentres’ neck.
“Watch it!” She laughed and marked a target on the wall. She spun around and hit
it perfectly, driving the sharp blade halfway into the wall. “Wow, you’re not
half bad!” Nentres remarked. She simply smirked as she tried to pry the blade
out of the wall. As it flew out, it slit a deep wound in her upper arm. “Virelai!”
Nentres cried out, alarmed.
“It’s okay.” She said, looking at the pendant. She watched as a few drops of
silvery-white blood seeped through. Then the wound sealed itself, healing as if
it had never been there.
Virelai took a deep breath and walked into the clearing, Vivian, Eros, and
Nentres close behind. She nervously fingered the handle of her mother’s dagger,
and welcomed the comfort of Nentres’ arm around her waist. “Can I talk to you
for a moment?” he asked. The couple walked away from the clearing. When they
reached a secluded little spot behind the trees, surrounded by flowers, Nentres
knelt before Virelai and opened a small wooden box lined with velvet. Before he
could open his mouth, Virelai fell upon him, kissing him as tears ran down her
cheeks. They kissed for a long time, finally pulling away so Nentres could slip
the ring on Virelai’s finger. They walked into the clearing, smiling despite the
danger that was to come.
“Mom!” called Virelai, “meet your future son-in-law!”
Morgan delivered the first strike, a deep cut in Virelai’s upper arm. She
systematically waited for it to heal, but it didn’t. she felt, for the first
time in 8 months, pain. She bit her lip and tied a strip of linen around it to
ease the bleeding. Then she remembered her lessons. She screamed “This is for
Armida!” and stabbed Morgan in the heart. Morgan clutched her wound, closing her
eyes tightly to fight back fatal tears. Virelai took this opportunity to make a
line on the dirt with the blood on her knife, reciting words under her breath.
Morgan turned, and immediately recognized the simple spell. Morgan could not
cross the line of her own blood. Virelai safely took her time behind the line to
blot the blood off the first wound Morgan had given her, and to administer some
healing oils from a vial in her packet. Vivian smiled. She had made sure her
daughter was well equipped. Morgan threw her dagger at Virelai’s head with
remarkable aim. Vivian screamed, but Virelai ducked it neatly. The blade
clattered to the ground, and Virelai sheathed it in her own scabbard, grinning.
She advanced on Morgan, and said coolly, “I don’t strike weaponless opponents.”
Throwing the dagger back to Morgan, in the few seconds it took for Morgan to
realize what happened, Virelai struck her opponent hard, rendering a bloody gash
across her left cheek. Morgan regained her balance and lashed out at Virelai
again, this time cutting deeply from her collarbone to above her right breast.
Virelai wrapped a length of linen around her chest, and then attempted to stab
Morgan. As Morgan twirled around to avoid the blow, revealing her back to
Virelai, Virelai shrieked “and this is for Milan!!” then she cut clean across
the back of Morgan’s neck, the cut that killed Milan, the cut that killed
Morgan. For as she turned back, blood gushing from her neck, a single tear
escaped from her eye.
Epilogue
Virelai sat down on a moss covered tree stump, enjoying the sunlight of the
meadow. She kissed her husband, and his hands came to rest on the soft swell of
her stomach. Nentres took out the tiny sketchbook he took everywhere. He stepped
back and began to sketch his wife. Pregnancy gave a special glow about her, he
thought. The sun made her silken strawberry hair look almost blonde, and her
startlingly grey eyes glittered even with the clear drops she put in them each
day so she wouldn’t have to wear the mask. The stump was surrounded by wild
flowers in shades of purple, gold, and orange. Nentres smiled at Virelai, and
Virelai walked to him and fell into his embrace, kissing him.
Four months later they had a child. Little Yasmin slept in Virelai’s arms as the
midwives put a fresh, cold, wet towel on Virelai’s forehead. Nentres held
Virelai’s hand, looking at their child, and slowly, slowly, Virelai, too, fell
asleep.
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