Lisbet sat by the bedside watching the flickering candlelight play over the face of her husband. It had been two weeks since he had been bitten by the strange dog, and he had not woken since that night. When she had woken the next morning and been unable to rouse him she had panicked and got help immediately. But there was no physician on Mhalwae and the best they had was the young midwife, who had only been able to suggest a few things. They had moved Cordell to a bigger, warmer room and there Lisbet had sat, in the same chair day after day watching as his condition steadily worsened.

The light from the candle, moved over his face, casting ghastly shadows in the deepened hollows. She could not believe this was the strong, sturdy man she had argued with for hours and hours, could not recognise that this was that man who had angered her so frequently. This seemed a shell of that person, just a body with no remnant of her husband left inside.

She shook her head to rid herself of these thoughts. Cordell was still in there, still fighting for his life. And she knew he could fight for hours, so why not with this illness then. She sighed deeply and stifled a yawn. She was so very tired. She could not remember the last time she had slept, sometimes curling up on a mat in the corner of the room, sometimes sitting in this very chair.

She was suddenly dragged back to alertness by a terrible rasping sound coming from the bed. Cordell’s mouth gaped open wide as he struggled to take in enough air. She found herself holding her breath too, until the dreadful choking noises dissipated, and Cordell ’s breathing returned to normal.

She sat and watched. She had lost track of all time. Time did not seem to matter now. Nothing really mattered anymore. There was just her and this chair, and her sick husband tossing and turning in the bed before her. He looked strangely peaceful now though, after winning his battle for air. She had always thought it strange that he was able to sleep with that same calm look upon his face, even after the worst of their fights, when she could not.

She could not remember a time she had felt so tired, every fibre of her body drooping with weariness. She had been told by other women that there would be many days after she was married when she would be tired from staying awake to do her duty as a wife. This had never happened but there had been many days of exhaustion, awakening with a hoarse throat from the yelling.

Her eyes began to slowly shut, the dull weight of her eyelids pulling them gently closed. She could feel now two strong arms wrapping around her waist to hold her while she slept, the heat of another body pressed against hers, her face pillowed on a warm chest, listening to the soft thud of a heartbeat.

Her head snapped up again, from its final resting place on her chest as someone entered the door. It was Cindra. She hurriedly stood up pushing the chair away and almost knocking down the candles with her clumsy movements.

“My dear Lisbet, how are you? You look exhausted”, Cindra gently asked her friend.

“Oh, you know I am getting by”, she replied.

“How is Cordell?” Cindra had almost said “your husband”, but had carefully omitted this from her question, knowing how Lisbet hated to call him that.

“Oh, as well as to be expected I suppose”, she tried to centre the conversation on medical details, but at the end of a lengthy description of his breathing her voice unexpectedly cracked and her carefully prepared mask fell.

“Oh Cindra”, her voice was bordering on tears, “How could I have been so very, very wrong”.

Then, the dam that had been holding back her emotions for the past weeks was breached and the tears poured fourth in an unstoppable torrent. She cried for her stubborn stupidity, she cried for all the times she had been unnecessarily cruel and most of all she cried for the simple fact that she had never gotten to know her husband and now she probably never would.

Almost instantly Cindra’s arms were around her friend holding her as tightly as she could, clasping the shaking, sobbing body to her until the tears subsided. She wished she could somehow make things better but she knew there was not much she could do for them.

She could only think of one thing.

“My dearest Lisbet, tell me now… how long is it since you last slept?” she was still holding her sniffling friend.

Lisbet pulled away, “I do not know, I think I may have slept a little today… or last night… I cannot remember”.

“You must get some sleep you silly thing”, Cindra said in a no-nonsense voice, patting her friends arm.

“But I cannot leave… what if something should happen”, she shivered slightly, “What if my husband needs me?”

“How about you go and get some sleep and I will watch over him tonight. I promise I will wake you if he makes even the slightest peep”.

After much convincing she finally sent Lisbet off to bed. Then she was left sitting in the darkened room with the sick man. As she sat she thought about her poor, silly friend, to only find out now that she cared for the man when it was too late. She knew that Garrick needed her too, but tonight was for Lisbet and Lisbet’s husband.

When Hepsie walked into the small wooden room, the Countess was lying calmly on the bed, her bruised face upturned, her eyes staring dully at the ceiling.

Hepsie had to stifle a gasp of dismay. She could not believe this was the same beautiful face she had so often gazed at secretly on the long voyage, wishing she had not inherited such a dark complexion.

The once pale face was now covered with bruises, blooming over her skin like nightmarish flowers. Her lip was split and swollen and Hepsie hated to think what other wounds her thin nightdress might hide. She was extremely concerned about one in particular.

“Your Ladyship”, in her most respectful voice, trying to round out the vowel sounds as much as possible.

She had gotten to practice it a lot lately due to the Duchess recently losing her baby. She had been very nervous to be dealing with the nobility like this, but had to remind herself, that it was due to her talents she had boarded those ships in the first place.

The other woman said nothing, only stared at her as though she did not exist.

She busied herself straightening the sheets to hide the distinct feeling of unease that was surfacing from beneath her external appearance of efficiency.

Swallowing her discomfort she began to ask the necessary questions. Valeriya barely responded, but Hepsie managed to glean the required information from her.

“I am very sorry Your Ladyship, but I need to be examining you physically if that’d be alright with you”.

Valeriya nodded very slightly, so Hepsie leant down and began to feel the woman’s abdomen gently, looking for signs that the child was still living. Her careful hands had soon gathered the information she needed.

She stood up briskly wiping those hands on her apron. From what Valeriya had told her and from her examination, there was no way the baby could have survived.

Now came the most unpleasant part. Hepsie took a deep breath to steel herself for the woman’s reaction.

“Your Ladyship”, she said in a quiet, consoling voice, “I am so very sorry to tell you ‘at you’ve lost yer baby. Is there anythin’ I can do fer you?”.

She had expected distress, tears and perhaps anger, but she was not prepared for the response that she received at this news.

The young woman merely stared at her, uncomprehendingly, almost as though Hepsie had said nothing, almost as though she was not there at all.

Hepsie, was deeply disturbed and so broke into a stream of medical advice finishing with, “and you must get a lot of rest”. She did not think it the best response, but she had to admit she did not know what to say to the battered woman. Valeriya did not look like she had heard a word of it.

Hepsie curtseyed with as much dignity as she could muster and walked towards the door, leaving the broken woman to her thoughts.

She could not help but feel consumed with a righteous anger. They had told her Valeriya had fallen, but Hepsie knew better. That awful Earl had done this to her, beaten her into this state, killed her baby. How she wished she were a man so she could knock him senseless, as he deserved. Her fists clenched tightly as she thought of it. Anger was quickly and suddenly replaced by an extreme gratitude, that God had seen fit to grant her such a wonderful man as her lovely Steen.

Hi guys. Just a quick note. This post is quite violent and might be upsetting to some people. If you feel like you may be one of them don’t read on, the story elements introduced will be apparent in the next post so you won’t miss anything.

Radomir was surprised when he came in to find Valeriya still awake. He was so used to her trying to pretend to be asleep before he came in, her bedtimes getting earlier and earlier. He did not care if she was sleeping. She was his wife and he would wake her if he wanted her. She did not seem to understand this.

But this was a welcome change. Perhaps she was finally beginning to appreciate him. Perhaps even love him. No, he put that thought away. He knew she did not love him, but he longed for some show of affection from her. Even a smile would suffice. He could not remember her smiling once during their marriage. He had seen her smile before that, watching her play with her younger brothers as he asked her father for her hand in marriage.

“Where you waiting up for me Valeriya?” he asked uncertainly. He did not exactly know how to react to this situation. He could taunt her and order her around, but he did not know what he would behave now, if she were kind to him.

He was instantly taken aback by the animal snarl on her face.

“Of course I was not! Do you think I wanted to be pawed at again by some drunken brute!”

He felt as though someone had poured a glass of icy water down the back of his neck, and he was left reeling from the cold of it. His instant reaction was to strike out with an open hand. He was brought back to reality by the loud slapping noise as that hand connected with her face.

She backed away from him, her face more uncertain now. He had let his guard down for a moment and she had betrayed him. He was suddenly filled with a boiling rage and he began to close the space between them his jaw tight with anger.

“Stay away from me! I will not have your awful hands on my body!”

She pushed him away from her so hard that he staggered back a step.

Something inside him snapped. He had hit her many times before but always with a certain amount of restraint. This was gone now.

His ears were ringing and the room was hazy. He could not quite believe that the fists beating his wife were connected to his arms, could barely hear the dull thud as they collided with the weight of her body.

He could hear her crying out in pain as he pounded her face and body with blow after blow, but it sounded distant to him, the forlorn bleat of a lost sheep.

With one final shove he threw her backwards, hearing a dreadful crack as she hit the bedpost and crumpled to the floor.

He was suddenly awakened from his trance, feeling the dull throb of his hands and gazing down at the prostate form of his wife. She had struggled into a sitting position and now she was staring up at him. He was utterly horrified, looking down at her mangled face, one eye almost swollen shut and her lips bruised and bloodied. He may as well have been staring down at the face of his mother.

She moaned in pain and he was too shocked to help her as she rose unsteadily to her feet. His mother had told him he did not know how to love, that it was always too much, too hard, as he lay crying over the dead body of the baby bird he had squeezed too tightly. He had never understood until now what she had meant. But now he saw the reflection of that small, smashed creature he had held with all his might, in the bloodied face of his wife.

“Radomir”, she croaked, lurching towards him.

“Valeriya… what is it… oh god… I… I…”.

She leant in so that her face was only inches from his and he could feel her ragged breath on his chin. Then she smiled at him for the first time in their marriage, a mockery of everything he had desired, a cracked and bloodied slash against her alabaster skin.

She bent to whisper something in his ear. It took him a moment to comprehend the words she said and when he did his first thought was a deep wrenching terror for the unborn child cocooned in her belly. His second, a stark and unbelieving horror that she had provoked him, knowing full well that she carried his son or daughter inside her pale body.

He gazed at her in absolute dismay as she grasped her stomach, groaning in agony and fell to her knees.

“Radomir”, she cried, between tightly clenched teeth, “You need to get help”.

Eallair immediately knew there was something wrong when he entered the room. Madlenka was lying on the bed staring up at the ceiling, wearing a funereal expression on her face.

It had been quite a hard day for Eallair, out surveying the various building sites. Things had been more difficult since Garrick had collapsed. He was not as helpful as he once had been, and seemed unable to concentrate on the task at hand, like his mind was constantly wandering elsewhere. Eallair was one man down, when there were no more men to be had and he felt it keenly.

He lay on the bed next to his wife.

“So… are we staring aimlessly at anything particular”, he asked in a dry tone of voice.

Madlenka looked at him with irritation.

“Are you mocking me?” she cried, a slight bite of anger in her voice.

“Of course not my lovely Queen. Would I ever be one to tease? Now is there something I can do to cheer you up? You look as though someone has killed your cat.”

She could not keep a small giggle in at that, and he wrapped an arm cosily around her shoulders and pulled her close to him, nuzzling her soft cheek with his bristly one.

“Is there something I can do for you my Maddy”, he whispered close to her sorrowful little face. He gently rubbed his nose against hers, but her eyes were tightly shut.

When she opened them he could see they were brimming with tears, her mouth twisted into a strange smile in a desperate attempt to stop them from overflowing and running down her trembling cheeks. His heart beat uncomfortably in his chest.

“I have an idea”, he said cheerfully, to try and distract her. He knew how she hated to cry in front of him or anyone for that matter. She nodded, unable to say anything lest the tears come flooding out.

“Let us go outside and watch the sunset… it was particularly beautiful when I came in to find you”.

Now she spoke, “But I am wearing my nightgown! Someone might see!”

Eallair grinned and said, “I do not think anyone is on the deck at present. And if anyone does see you I strongly doubt they will be offended, rather I might have to fight them off with a stick”.

She looked cross.

“Oh you silly thing, do not worry about such things. Just trust me. Come outside. It will be beautiful”.

They stood outside on the deck watching the sun sink slowly below the horizon, splashing pink and golden hues over the canvas of the ocean.

Madlenka pressed her hands together and sighed, “Oh Eallair… it really is so very beautiful”.

She sighed again, this time more deeply. Eallair watched her as she gazed out to sea, a gentle, summer breeze stirring her hair, which was glowing a soft golden red in the fading light.

Eallair raised a hand to lovingly stroke that hair.

“Maddy love, please tell me what is wrong? You know I cannot tell. I am only a simple man and I cannot read your thoughts, though I wish I could”.

Madlenka turned towards him, her face soft, the last light staining her skin with the colours of the sky. She was so beautiful, a goddess walking the earth and he just a mere man trying to worship at her feet.

She sighed again and spoke, a tightly controlled sound the belied the tears hidden beneath it, waiting to surface at some unbidden moment, “I am afraid that I shall never have a child Eallair”.

He had been worrying sometimes of this too, but trying with all his might not to let his open face reveal this. But now it had been said and the surprise was so great it took every ounce of his control, to set his features into an expression of amused surprise.

“But Maddy, why would you worry such a thing?” he asked, the tone of his voice carefully regulated.

She did not answer, and looked at him helplessly. He could not bear this expression of vulnerability from his strong wife for very long so he tilted her chin up and gently kissed her trembling lips.

She kissed him back with such ferocity he was pushed up against the railing. Her body was trembling as she pressed against him and he felt his heart thumping against his ribcage so hard that he thought it would jump right out.

“Why Maddy”, he cried pulling away from her, “Are you trying to give this man a heartattack? Are you not worried someone might see?” He could not resist the opportunity to tease her.

She grinned at him sensually in the fading light, her lips turning up at the corners in the most delightful way. It was obvious to him that she had decided to set her worries aside for the moment, and so he too shoved his back from the place they had risen from.

“I would appreciate if his Majesty would deign to adjourn to the bedroom with me, where perhaps we can remedy this problem”.

“Well I definitely do not need to be told twice”, he grinned at her.

Garrick was walking in the forest near the city, where he liked to go hunting. It was Autumn and the trees surrounding him were a blanket of red, brown and yellow leaves. The light that refracted through to the forest floor was golden and a heavy mist hung in the damp air.

He took a deep breath, his nose filling with the scent of moist soil. He had always loved these woods, a favourite haven to escape an unhappy home. They had always gone here together but now he could not find her.

He continued to wander through the forest, listening for her footsteps or her soft, tinkling laugh. He knew she was somewhere nearby, he could feel her presence as he had always been able to.

Suddenly the skies opened with a crack of thunder, and a gentle downpour began. Garrick did not mind, it was warm for an autumn day and he had always loved the rain. They both had, huddled together inside the trunk of the old oak tree, whispering secrets to each other.

He continued to walk, gazing around at the changed forest, his senses attuned to the rain, the way it felt pattering softly on his skin, the smell of the rising earth and the sound the drops made falling from the leaves above his head.

Then he heard another sound, a childish giggle and a rustling in the bushes nearby.

“Isabelle? Is that you?” he asked already knowing the answer, looking around for the small figure making these noises.

He saw a green and red flash in the corner of his vision and turned to see a figure running through the trees.

“Isabelle! Isabelle… wait for me!” he turned and ran after her, but she was too fast for him, despite her long dress catching around her legs.

He did not pause to think it strange that she would run so fast, he had always been able to run faster than her. Still he pursued her through the darkening forest.

Without warning she stopped at the edge of a clearing. He slowed to a walk, approaching her as she stayed there, her back turned away from him. She was waiting for him.

Suddenly the forest did not feel so welcoming. The rotting smell of soil from the grave filled his nostrils and icy rain pricked at his skin. Even the sound of the raindrops seemed wrong to his ears, the noise of each drip separated so the sound seemed almost deafening. He shivered as he crept towards the small red-headed figure with her back turned to him. She was so still, he could not even see her breathing.

Ignoring the overwhelming feeling of dread that had settled over him he reached a hand out carefully to touch her, so she would turn around and he would see that this was all a game and there was no need to fear. He could see the droplets of rain clinging to her hair and was surprised to notice that her dress was not just muddy at the bottom of the skirt, but all around. As he looked closer he saw her hair had damp soil clinging to its fiery redness.

He was suddenly filled with terror and his hand dropped uselessly to his side. But it did not matter, because she was already turning.

Garrick came up abruptly from the depths of his dream gasping for breath. He was soaked in sweat and his heart was pounding. He was shaking all over, despite the warmth of the stuffy room.

He gingerly pulled back the covers, trying not to wake Cindra. He felt ill as he always did when he awoke from the nightmares he had been having since the day he had collapsed.

Cindra had become a light sleeper in the last weeks. It was almost impossible for her to sleep properly as it was, since her husband spent nearly every night thrashing in his dreams and moaning in distress. She was constantly worried for him and she did not know how to reach him in the dark place he was inhabiting. She could only try to comfort him as best she knew how.

As she sat up and pushed the covers back she heard a muffled sob from the other side of the bed.

Almost instantly she was by his side, wrapping her soft, warm arms around his shaking body.

“Garrick my love, have you had another nightmare?” she gently asked.

She did not know what he dreamt about, she had asked the first few times but he had been so angry and defensive that she would not ask again. But every night when he muttered the name Isabelle in his sleep, she felt more and more alone. She did not know who this Isabelle was and she could not bring herself to ask him. Every time she opened her mouth to ask, the words died on her lips as she looked into his haunted eyes.

He leant heavily against her, still trembling and she wished she could take up the weight of his sorrows and carry them on her little shoulders. She knew that the Cindra of a month ago would have stamped her foot and yelled at him if he had whispered the name of another woman in their bed. But things were so very different now.

“Oh my sweet little Cindra”, he said suddenly as though finally awakening, “What would I do without you. I am so very very sorry”.

He pulled her to him, resting his head on her shoulder, burying his face into the warmth of her hair.

“Do not be so silly now my love”, she said, holding him with the fierce protection of mother lioness guarding her cub, “You did not wake me so very much”.

“I do not think I will sleep again tonight Cindra, I am sorry”, he sighed deeply, his chest pressing against hers and she suddenly realised that they were both very naked.

“Well then”, she murmured, her voice husky with desire, “Perhaps we can think of something else to do”.

He gazed into her eyes for a moment, then pulled her to him, their entire bodies meeting.

“I love you, my lovely little Cindra”, he almost whispered the words, his lips inches from hers. Then he kissed her deeply, all of his worries disappearing for a time in the heat of her embrace.

Lisbet lay on the bed, her thoughts elsewhere, somewhere she had the life she wanted and was not tethered to the relentlessness of this one.

She was startled back to reality by the sound of someone fumbling heavily at the doorknob. That someone was obviously her husband, and from the sounds of it he was exceedingly inebriated. She had been too late to bed and now she would surely have to listen to the cacophony of his drunken snores the entire night.

She leapt out of bed and readied herself, hands on her hips and lips pursed angrily. She was not going to let him get away with it again. No… certainly this time she was going to give him an earful. She was aching for a fight, it had been a week since they had even spoken and irritation was ready to burst from her, like the contents of a shaken bottle. It would serve the drunken lout right. How dare he come and share a room with her in this state.

Cordelll finally managed to pull open the door and walked through. Lisbet thought he looked particulary drunk as he was swaying slightly and rubbing the back of his neck in a way that suggested he had possibly fallen down and hurt himself. Well… he would get no sympathy from her, he deserved to fall over. Maybe it would teach him a lesson not to stay out drinking with that dreadful Alexis.

The he looked up at her, and she gasped as she saw his face. His left eye was almost swollen shut, a dark and vicious bruise beginning to form around it. Dried blood crusted his nostrils and lips, and she was extremely disturbed to see a gashed wound on his neck. Her first thought had been of a fight, perhaps some drunken disagreement. But she felt sure these were wounds not simply made by some disgruntled drunk.

He stretched his back, his face twisted into a grimace of pain.

For the first time since she had been married to him, Lisbet was at a complete loss for words. She stood there gaping at him, her planned curses dying on her lips.

Cordell’s eyes suddenly focused on her, as if he was only just noticing her presence in the room. His expression changed to one of anger and he raised his hands upwards, “Why have you given me such a harridan for a wife God? Do you see the way she looks at me, her ugly mouth opening and shutting like a trout’s”.

Lisbet abruptly shut her mouth, offended by his comment more deeply than she could bring herself to admit.

Cordell now had his head in his hands and was writhing in agony.

“I cannot bear it… the pain… I feel like I am burning up inside. My head… oh god… it is surely going to split apart”.

“And you woman, you stand by and do nothing for me. Why was I to be cursed with one such as you with no redeeming features whatsoever”.

He was now pressing his fingers into his eyes, almost as though he was trying to rub the image of her standing in front of him away. She could hear his breath coming out in ragged gasps of pain.

When he looked up again, she had to stifle a gasp. His face was contorted in rage, his upper lip curled into a snarl. His teeth were clenched so tightly, Lisbet thought she should be able to hear the noise of them grinding against one another from where she stood.

“Stop talking woman! I do not want to hear your wretched, whiney voice anymore tonight! No… make that never again. Speak again and I will cut your sniping tongue from your mouth”.

Lisbet did not know how to react to this, and she had to bit her lip to stop her teeth from chattering together. She had not spoken a word since he entered the room.

She watched silently as he dressed himself for bed. It was evident he was in a great deal of pain, she could see him whinceing at every movement, his body trembling all over. For some disturbing reason she had an overwhelming urge to wrap him in her arms and hold him until the trembling subsided.

She shook her head slowly to rid herself of this thought. How could she think this after what he had just said to her. Still… she could not believe he had meant it. He had never spoken as such to her, never threatened her. It was not her husband speaking but some fever coursing through his body. She once again had to resist the urge to reach out and touch his skin to feel if it were hot. He carefully put himself into bed, pulling the blankets up to his chin, his body shivering uncontrollably despite the warmth of the night.

He was soon in a deep but disturbed slumber. Lisbet stood by his bed and watched as he moaned and mumbled, his jaw clenching and unclenching, his brow drenched with sweat. A new feeling she had not yet experienced in conjunction with her husband was growing in her, starting at the bottom of her stomach and working its way up to constrict her throat. Lisbet was desperately afraid.

Hej guys!

So once again I am heading off. I have a course in Copenhagen for Structural crystallography (I know it sounds pretty scary). It should be really good though because I am really going to need it for analysing my samples. Anyway… enough with RL and back to what this means for my blog.

Basically I am going to be away for two and a half weeks. I have brought a whole lot of pics with me so I should be able to update. But I am not sure about the state of internet yet so we will have to see.

In other news I am super-excited because I found some downloadable ships on ModTheSims2! So now you won’t have to just see the inside of the ships the sims are currently living in but also outside shots… hurrah! And soon they will be starting to move into actual castles and such (when I get round to building them). I am trying to be sort of realistic in the time it would take for them to build though and since there aren’t that many people on Mhalwae, I think it would take a while and they have only been there for about four months now (I know… time has been going slowly… I am going to speed it up a bit in the future but this whole getting to know Mhalwae phase has taken a while). So anyway… you will be seeing some ships in a few posts. Yay!

Okies… better go to bed. Have to get up early to catch a flight. Keep up the good simming and blogging =).

Cordell stood deep in conversation with Steen. The young man showed remarkable apitude when it came to deciphering the cause of a problem. And at that point they were having problems with the ground that part of the foundation would lie on, so Cordell could use all the apitude he could get.

Cordell had been assigned to oversee the building of the the new church. It had been decided that the ruined church at the foot of the mountains was too dangerous to use as a foundation, and a more accessible position had been chosen, close to the beginnings of the castle.

“Perhaps Sir, all that we might need do is dam up that part of the creek that runs past this here church ground. Cause I think the ground is waterlogged cause of the direction, so if we change it’s course she’ll dry up in no time I’m sure”.

The young man turned his head to look back towards the coast, “Well if it ain’t two messengers from God come to tell us the next course of action then”.

Cordell turned to look and saw Father Harndall and Sister Mella coming up the hill. Sister Mella had not said another word since her outburst during the service, and had seemingly returned to her normal placid self. Of course she was with Harndall, it seemed he could not go anywhere without her trailing him, a silent ghost, watching his every move.

“Hello my good men. Hard at work I see”, the priest winked and chuckled at his own joke. Cordell liked the man, he was honest, genuine and a good father to his people. And also his sermons were not boring, which meant Cordell liked him all the more. Bad enough that he was forced to sit in the same room as Lisbet for two hours, but having to put up with a long-winded priest would have been the last straw.

“But Father, can you not see, we are hard at work solving the problem of a river that runs in the wrong place. Surely you may have some advice for us? Can you not ask your Lord if he could slightly change the course of this creek. It is for a good cause after all”, Cordell winked back at the priest who was still chuckling.

“Do not forget Sir Arwaduhn, that he is your Lord as well, and I think he is perhaps a little busy with the concerns of the world to help us with our watery problem. Can I perhaps be of some assistance in his stead?”

Mella had gone off to stand in front of one of the foundation walls, gazing unnervingly towards the mountains in the distance.

The men were so engrossed in their conversation that they failed to notice her, and also that the sun was sinking fast towards the horizon. Soon it was quite dark and they realised it was beyond the time when they should head back to the ships.

Cordell went back to pick up some items he had left beside the foundation wall.

As he was organising himself, he felt a sudden chill, and all the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He had the distinct feeling he was being watched. His gaze raked over the bushes around him and fell upon a pair of red glowing eyes staring out at him from the darkness.

He heard a low threatening growl and suddenly the bushes erupted in a large mass of black fur and sharp white fangs.

A big black dog was running full pelt at the foundation wall, all ropy muscles coiled in preparation to leap over it.

The creature cleared the wall with no apparent effort and before Cordell had even had the time to react it was standing before him, with its teeth bared, saliva dripping from the razor sharp rows.

Cordell was a brave man, he had received adulations for his courage in the battles leading up to the invasion. But at this moment the icy hand of fear was clutched around his heart, the pounding of which seemed to be the only sound he was capable of hearing. The stench coming off the thing was revolting, the smell of something long dead and festering.

The animal growled again, a deep guttural sound roiling up out of its throat and leapt at Cordell knocking him to the ground.

Then it was upon him tearing at his face and neck as he desperately tried to fight it off. He was a strong man but it was nothing compared to the stark power of the black beast pinning him to the ground.

He felt it trying to gets its teeth around his neck and knew he did not have more than a few moments left. Strangely all he could think of as his hands clawed at the foul creature was Lisbet’s face, peaceful as it appeared when she was sleeping.

Suddenly the hound’s weight was shifting above him and then he was freed from it.

He raised himself up on his elbows to a half sitting position and readied himself for another attack but it did not come. To his astonishment instead, he saw the Nun her hands caressing the creature, as she made soft contented noises. The beast began to whimper its tail wagging, its red eyes rolling in ecstasy, as it sought out her hand.

Cordell struggled to his feet and away from them in horror, a warning to the nun dying on his lips as he saw her disturbing reaction to the ungodly creature.

Then, without warning it ran back into the forest from whence it came, Mella watching intently as it disappeared.

Cordell stumbled away from them, clutching at his stomach as he violently retched, the pain from the wounds on his arms and face dizzingly intense.

He carefully stood up again, noticing Harndall and Steen had rushed back to the constructions. He felt around his neck. It was painful but there only seemed to be a few small bite marks on it, he had managed to protect himself from the worst of the attack.

Steen rushed up to him, “Sir, I saw what happened with that there dog, are you all right Sir, you are wounded. Can I help you?”

For some reason a wave of annoyance washed over Cordell. He tried to contain it as best as he could, but he felt like the world was muffled from the pain and he could not exactly control himself, “No… no I am fine… I do not need your help. Just leave me alone.”

They all walked silently back towards the ships, Harndall staring intently at Mella, who walked as though in a trance, Steen watching Cordell to make sure he did not actually need the help he had rudely refused and Cordell, stumbling along, attuned only to the searing pain that was rampaging through his body.

Sitting through a church service was a trial even at the best of times, but it was made a million times worse by the embarrassment of sitting through it with her husband.

Morven stared straight ahead trying desperately to ignore the fidgeting of her wayward husband. It was almost impossible for Alexis to sit still for five minutes, and there was absolutely no way it was going to happen for two hours.

She sighed softly in irritation as he began to drum out a tune on his thighs, a noise she was sure was loud enough for the whole congregation to hear.

She sharply turned to glare at him, in an attempt to make him stop with her evident scorn. She was bored too but one wouldn’t find her fidgeting. She had already read the bible ten times, and knew the story Father Harndall was reciting back to front. Actually she wished she could discuss with him her thoughts on it, but unfortunately this was not befitting of a woman as she had been reminded on several occasions when she opened her mouth with an opinion.

He pointed to himself with a look of mock atonishment as if to say “Me, are you angry at me”. She had to laugh, albeit a very quiet chuckle. Suddenly rather than an embarassment she felt as though she had an ally against the monotony.

To show that she was not angry anymore she very quietly drummed on her thighs too, hoping the father would not notice.

But when she looked up he was deeply engrossed in reciting the story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead, and seemed oblivious to all, caught up in a religious fervour.

She had to admit he was a lot more interesting than most priests and he had the added advantage of being young and easy to look at. That definitely made the time pass a little quicker. Also, his evident enthusiasm was often contagious and the people generally enjoyed his sermons far more than they supposed they ought to.

Her train of thought was abruptly interrupted by a strangled sob to the left of her. She carefully looked sideways and saw that the noise had come from Sister Mella who was now wearing a look of utter terror on her face.

She saw that Lisbet, sitting on the same pew as the nun, was doing her utmost best to stare fixedly ahead and ignore what was going on beside her.

The nun suddenly made a low growling noise loud enough for those around her to hear.

From the corner of her eye, Morven could see the Sister’s outburst was apparently directed at Lisbet, but she did not think Lisbet had said something that could provoke such a response.

She noticed a number of people in the pews in front of her, stiffen and sit up straighter. They had obviously noticed that something strange was going on behind them, and were chosing to ignore it.

Father Harndall had stopped speaking and was staring to the back of the room, an expression of sorrow on his face.

“STOP!!!!”, the Nun suddenly cried, to the astonishment of everyone in the room.

It was well-known that Sister Mella had not spoken a word since the invasion.

She then began making guttural sobbing noise that did not resemble any speech Morven had ever heard.

She could not help but stare at the raving woman, even though she knew it was very rude.

Suddenly the Mella stopped ranting at her unseen antagonist and stared directly at Morven. Morven shuddered and chills ran up and down her spine. The nuns eyes were so vacant and cold, devoid of emotion. Morven quickly turned away to remove herself from the Sister’s empty gaze.

A greater disturbance at the front of the makeshift church caused her to rise hurriedly out of her chair, as the room was pierced by a woman’s shriek of pain.

She saw Lochan looking at his wife in horror and rising out of his seat as she began to slip off the pew.

She moaned in agony and clutched her scrawny belly, falling to her knees on the wooden floor with a thud. Her face was contorted, the grimace only enhancing her already macabre appearance.

She curled up in a ball, sobbing in anguish, her tiny hands grasping at her stomach as her distressed husband rushed to her aid.

Morven heard a hysterical laugh from behind her and turned to see, to her horror, Mella, a look of abandoned glee on her face. Morven was close enough to hear her panting breath whistling between her clenched teeth, and see the whites of her eyes as they rolled madly around.

Valeriya breathed deeply and fought another wave of nausea. Her swollen and uncomfortable stomach roiling she willed herself not to throw up again. Small beads of sweat formed on her forehead and she could feel the bile rising in her throat, threatening to spill forth uncontrolled.

After a few moments the feeling subsided again and she lay feebly clutching her stomach. She had not bled for too long and she knew exactly what that meant. Despite all her care the worst thing possible had happened.

She glared upward accusingly, “Why have you done this to me? Have I not suffered enough?”

There was of course, no response and anger welled up in her, a fiery rage that smouldered in the pit of her stomach along with an intense hatred for the tiny life that was beginning to grow inside her.

“What did I do to deserve this? Isn’t it enough? I have prayed… gone to mass… I have fasted, done everything I am supposed to do and yet you let this abomination grow inside me… his child. How could you?”

She swung her legs around and carefully stood up, lest the feeling that had miraculously departed for a time, decide to revisit her.

She stood there, her thoughts turning inwards to the small creature that was growing in her belly. It was a parasite feeding from her, sapping her strength and making her ill. His offspring, his spawn and she was forced to be the carrier. He had taken everything now. He had completely claimed her body as his now. Nothing remained that was hers.

Her body was suddenly racked by a spasming pain, and she clutched blindly at her abdomen as the nausea rose up in vicious fury to claim her once again. She cried out in pain and distress, clawing at her stomach, wishing there was some way to remove her affliction.

But there was not and as the pain subsided she began to sob with the abandon of a small child who has lost its parents in the marketplace. She fell to her knees still clutching at her belly, alone in her despair. There was noone who would help her, nobody even cared. She was alone.

She curled up her body into the foetal positon, unthinkingly mimicking the tiny being housed in the warm confines of her womb. She stayed like that, sobbing wretchedly until her throat was hoarse and finally, all of the tears were gone.

After a long while she finally sat up. She may have a new life growing inside her, but her heart felt dead and cold. There was nothing to be done but keeping on going, keep on living this dreg of a life she had been handed.

She carefully rose so as not to disturb her overly sensitive body again and walked over to the mirror.

She studied her reflection for a long moment, noting how her normally pale skin was red and blotchy from crying and her eyes puffy, with trails of dried tears lining her cheeks. She found this morbidly interesting… it was not often that she cried, let alone showed any emotion. She was not used to seeing herself this way.

She carefully dried her tears and cleaned her face with a wet towel. She did not want anyone to see she had been crying, especially Radomir. She remembered that she still had one thing he wanted from her that she would not give him. Her tears.