Chapter 131 – The Half-Mad Shepherd
"Madam Anna, did something happen?"
the girl called Cecilia asked.
"My man… he…"
Compared with the lovely girl, the grease-covered woman felt rather ashamed. Yet her husband was gravely wounded, so she hurriedly explained, then pleaded, "Everyone says you can heal the badly injured. I've nowhere else to turn; please, be merciful and save my man."
Her voice trembled with desperation and entreaty.
Healing a man at death's door sounded like a fairy-tale, but this uncanny girl and the family's eerie reputation made her cling to the faint hope.
The girl's gaze slid past the woman's shoulder, appraising Lame Jack's injuries, then returned to her.
"All right."
she said.
The crowd murmured, a ripple of unease running through them; they exchanged startled looks. Though rumors flew every day, seeing her agree so readily felt unreal.
"Then…"
hope flared in the woman's eyes.
"But you remember the payment I mentioned?"
"Of course, I've sent my child to fetch it."
"Good."
"Then… shall I have them carry my man inside?"
the woman asked tentatively. The laborers, hearing this, showed reluctance; they knew nothing of the details, but the house was clearly no wholesome place, and none wished to enter.
"No matter. You needn't come in."
The girl stepped down the stairs, walked up to the injured Lame Jack under the crowd's gaze, and bent down. The slender-looking girl heaved Jack—who had taken several men to carry—onto her shoulder and strode steadily back into the house.
Before entering she turned her head.
"Wait outside. Whatever happens, do not come in."
Shadow veiled her face, making her words sound sinister.
Remember us—101 Reading Network.
No one dared answer.
With a bang the great door shut.
Several minutes of silence followed.
People glanced uneasily at one another, then whispered to the woman in front: she had "lost her mind," that family was "terrifying," and the like.
The woman waited anxiously, wringing her hands as though clutching at a lifeline. Her child stumbled in hugging a basket of fresh fish; as he opened his mouth to call "Mama," she hushed him.
The air was oppressive; after an eternity the door reopened.
Creak—
The sound made the woman start. She looked up: the beautiful girl was supporting her man—still deathly pale, still unconscious—but his leg…
"Jack!"
With a cry of disbelief she rushed to him, seeing the leg that had been crushed now restored to its proper shape, wrapped in bandages. Though stained with blood, it was nothing like the ruin it had been.
The crowd stared at the healed man, then at the girl, awe and dread mingling in their eyes.
"His leg is saved, but he lost much blood; he'll need quiet rest,"
she announced.
"Thank you—thank you so much!"
the woman sobbed.
"Don't thank me; the doctor is my brother."
The girl took the basket of fish. "Then we're done."
No onlooker dared question her; they let her return inside and close the door.
"Jack, you're alive…"
the woman exclaimed, overjoyed. As long as her man lived, the family could go on. With the soli she had and what she earned, they would manage while he recovered.
Hope had returned.
People helped carry the man home. None noticed the lingering horror frozen on his ashen face, as though he had glimpsed something unspeakable.
Once inside, the beautiful girl carried the basket of fish into the parlor.
All curtains were drawn, no lamp lit; the room lay in gloom.
On the sofa sat a man trussed in a straitjacket. In the Darkness his blue eyes gleamed faintly.
Even the dimness could not hide his handsome face, though something was amiss—his expression verged on madness. He murmured
in an arcane tongue the verses of an ancient, cryptic poem:
"…The Lord came into the world and proclaimed: I am here; all defiance shall be smitten. His hosts awoke from blood, and never again was any other redness seen upon the earth…"
The profane voice, like an unseen blade, made the air shiver.
The girl, cradling the basket, approached calmly. Veins blackened and bulged across her face, yet she did not stop until she stood before him.
"Brother."
She pressed a fresh fish to his lips.
His drifting awareness returned; he opened his mouth and bit into the flesh.
Swish!
The meat melted like wax near flame, leaving a clean skeleton within seconds. She set it down, took another fish, and repeated until the basket was empty.
When the last fish vanished, his lips glowed scarlet, then slowly paled.
He exhaled long and deeply; sanity returned, the wild look fading. He smiled and winked at his sister.
"So, Lu Ze—feel the potion digesting?"
Setting the basket aside, she undid the straps of the straitjacket, asking with concern.
"Not much change. It seems the key to digesting the Rose Bishop potion isn't here."
Lu Ze of rondall sensed within himself and shook his head.
"I see…"
The girl's voice dropped. "Pity it didn't cure your half-madness. And because of this attempt we've exposed our peculiarity… I doubt we can stay here much longer."
"It's all right, little sister, don't worry."
Lu Ze chuckled. "After all, I'm now a Sequence 5 Shepherd… unstable, yes, but once I digest it properly I'll be fine."
Comforting her, he looked around and sighed.
To think I've ended up in Backlund… he mused.