Demon Lord

The silence that greeted Mirra in the breakfast hall the next morning surprised her. A sense of doom hung in the air, and her smile faded as she headed for her seat beside Tallis. Many acolytes sent her timid smiles, their eyes sliding away. Her friend was intent on her porridge, and Mirra spooned hers with keen appetite.

  “Why is everyone so quiet today?”

  Tallis shrugged. “You are to see Elder Mother after breakfast.”

  “What about?”

  “Ask Elder Mother.”

  After breakfast, Mirra ran to Ellese’s study, bouncing in with a grin as Ellese turned from the window. The sadness in the seeress’ eyes stopped Mirra’s rush to hug her, and she advanced slowly, her smile fading.

  “What is wrong with everyone?”

  “We are all a little sad.”

  “Why?”

  Ellese sighed. “Because today you must leave us and go out into the world. You are sixteen now, and I know normally girls leave at eighteen, but you are ready. It is time.”

  “How wonderful! Why is everyone sad?”

  “Because we will miss you, of course.”

  “I shall miss you all too, but I have always wanted to see the world.”

  “And so you shall, my dear.” Ellese became brisk. “So, when you have packed, the cart will be waiting to take you to your new home. We have a lovely place in the woods for you.”

  “Thank you, Mother!” Mirra flung her arms around the old seeress’ neck and kissed her on the cheek. Ellese patted the girl’s back, appearing sadder than Mirra thought necessary at her leaving.

  “Now, now, child.” Ellese disentangled herself. “Go and get ready.”

  Mirra skipped along bright corridors to the grey cell that had been her home for the past sixteen years. A narrow bed, small table and two cushioned stools furnished it, and it seemed poky and uninviting now that her mind was full of visions of a little thatched cottage nestled in a forest glade. She packed her few possessions into a worn leather bag, and, with a last look around at the drab chamber, ran to tell Tallis. She found her friend in the vegetable garden behind the abbey, pulling weeds from cabbage rows. Flowering fruit trees hemmed the garden and graced the warm air with their heady scent, and birdsong offset the dull rumble of wagon wheels on the road.

  Mirra pounced on her friend, laughing. “I am leaving, Tallis! Is it not wonderful? I am to have my very own house, in the woods, just as I have always wanted.”

  Tallis hugged her back, her soft brown eyes a little moist. “That is... wonderful, Mir.”

  Mirra hardly noticed her friend’s sadness; she was too excited at the prospect of becoming a true healer. She bounced around, avoiding the plump cabbage heads. “In two years your turn will come. It will be marvellous! I shall heal sick people, and animals too.”

  Tallis looked down at the wilting weeds she held. “Yes, you are so good at it. I will never be as good as you.”

  “Nonsense, you are just as good as me, and much better at cooking and sewing.”

  Mirra glanced around at the sound of footsteps to find Ellese approaching. The grey-haired seeress seemed to have aged in the last day, and her smile was tired.

  “All ready, Mirra?”

  “Yes.” She picked up her bag. “Can Tal come with us, just to see?”

  Ellese inclined her head. “Of course she may if she wishes.”

  Mirra turned to Tallis, who smiled and nodded.

  The retired plough horse pulled the wagon beside the refugee-clogged road, his iron-shod feet clopping. The people walked in grim silence, their eyes scared and despairing. They pushed barrows piled with their possessions and drove bellowing livestock. The rumble of wheels mingled with dogs’ yapping and the wails of tired children who stumbled amongst the trudging people.

  Mirra smiled and waved, and a few peasants responded half-heartedly. The desolation in their eyes and the misery that hung over the throng puzzled the young healer. Dust clung to the people’s sweat-streaked faces, and drovers goaded footsore oxen that bawled in protest. Some had pulled off the road to huddle around campfires, warming food for hungry children and resting exhausted beasts. Mirra sensed their fatigue in her bones, and a frown wrinkled her brow.

  She turned to Ellese. “Where do they all go, Mother? Why are they so sad?”

  Ellese looked away. “They go to the sea.”

  “Whatever for? They are all so tired.”

  “To feed the fishes,” Tallis said, and the seeress shot her sharp, warning glance.

  “Because they must,” Elder Mother stated, her tone discouraging further enquiry on the subject.

  Mirra thought about that, then shrugged it off. Her nature was too serene to be bothered by mysteries. She accepted things on face value, and if Ellese did not wish her to know, she was content to remain ignorant.

  Instead, she gazed at the meadows and shady woodland. The carolling of birds in the hedgerows was audible over the steady rumble of wagon wheels and tramp of feet. The lush countryside basked beneath a warm blue sky in peaceful splendour, abuzz with busy insects and flitting birds. In some fields, placid cattle grazed, their bells clanking as they munched the grass. By contrast, the winding road clogged with human misery made a dismal outlook, and she wondered afresh why these people chose to make such an arduous journey to the sea when they should be planting the season’s crops and tending their farms.