Chapter Text
The morning dawned grey and angry, the skies that had dumped a deluge on the ocean threatening to make a repeat appearance over the small settlement. Food was passed around and for the first time since her trip to Albion, her belly finally didn’t scream at her. At breakfast, to his credit, Captain Dredd introduced her to a group of merchants going towards Bowerstone.
With an aching farewell, she found herself on the road pressed between a husband and wife on the front of their caravan. They didn’t say much to her, not that she had any desire to strike up a conversation with them. The afternoon greeted them with a downpour, Delilah wrapping her traveling cloak around her in a vain attempt to keep warm.
“Hold up!” The voice at the front of their caravan yelled and the mules pulling the cart slowed, eventually stopping. Delilah jumped from the cart and jogged up to the front to see the smoldering remains of a carriage, two dead horses flanking either side of the wreckage. “Poor souls.”
The masculine counterpart of the couple came up to investigate, “They must have been carrying some valuable cargo. Most of the bandits aren’t that brave.”
Peering further into the wreckage, Delilah saw the charred remains of the occupants, grabbing at the door to attempt to escape. That’s when she heard someone coughing. “What was that?!”
She rushed forward and disregarding her own safety started to paw through the wreckage. A hand grabbed onto her wrist, making her jump. “Hey! There’s someone alive in here!” She called back as the travelers helped her move aside the wreckage to reveal a fire headed child covered in soot and burns. “It’s a kid!”
They managed to pull them from the wreckage, their clothes bloodied and burned. Her body was covered in lacerations, her fingertips raw from trying to claw her way out of the wreckage. “We need to get her back to Oakfield!”
“We aren’t heading that way, Miss. Leave the child, she’ll be dead before tomorrow’s daybreak if the Hobbes don’t get to her first.”
She shot a dirty look at the person behind her shoulder, “How dare you?! She is a child!”
“We have to get back to Bowerstone this evening or else we lose our payment.” The wife responded, the other travelers starting to move again. “You can stay with her, if you like, but we must continue forward.”
“You’re just going to leave her here?!” Delilah’s voice grew tight and pinched, flicking her eyes back between the husband and wife, “What if she was your daughter?”
“She’s not, though. That’s the reality, Miss.”
Delilah glanced back at the badly injured child. “I’ll take her back myself!”
“Good luck to you.” The husband said, flicking the reins to get their cart moving again, leaving Delilah on the side of the road. She didn’t bother watching them leave, hoisting the child into her arms before slinging her over her shoulder. The girl couldn’t have been more than four or five years old, the weight quickly overcoming her as she began to walk back the way she came, sliding on the mud as she ascended the hill back towards the settlement.
By the time they reached Oakfield, the sky had again grown dark, the streetlamps struggling against the rain, “Please! I need help!” She yelled as she entered the square, her legs giving out from under her. The child had fainted from her wounds, her body falling into the mud as patrons of the Sandgoose came rushing out, grabbing her and then the child, rushing them both back into the inn.
“Is she okay?” Delilah worried as she was helped across the threshold, “Oh my god, please tell me she’s okay!”
“She’ll die if we don’t get her help soon.” Phyllis said, pointing at a tall man in the corner, “Brother Paul, go get Father Abbot. He’ll know what to do.”
The man, sporting a robe of periwinkle, nodded and took off into the rain as Phyllis began to clean up the child, looking her over to fix whatever she could do. After a time, the girl began to stir, opening her eyes to look at Delilah.
“Momma…Poppa…” She whispered as an older man entered the tavern; his eyebrows knit in concern.
“Someone told me that there was an injured child.” He said, rushing over to the table, clucking over the girl, “We need to get her to the Temple of Light, only the Light can save her.”
“Then take her there!” Delilah snapped. Without another word, the same man, Brother Paul, scooped the child into his arms and rushed back into the storm.
“What happened?” Father Abbot asked as he ushered her to follow. They walked from the Sandgoose and away from the buildings, ascending a hill.
“I found her like this. Well, WE found her. I was traveling with a group of merchants, and they left us alone. They said that she wasn’t worth saving.”
Father Abbott clucked in disapproval, “Pity we live in a time where the strong won’t lift a finger to help the weak. Thank you for bringing her back. She owes you her life.”
Delilah shook her head, “That’s still in the balance. I’ll take that praise once you save her.”
“Only the Light can save her.” He repeated, taking off into a light jog as Delilah kept pace, quickly winded by the climb. Finally, they turned a roundabout and a large white structure came into view, the squat building encompassing three sides of the hilltop, small offshoots disappearing into the woods. She could see men rushing back and forth within the interior of the open door, the small figure of the girl on a dais in the middle of the room. “Father Abbott, the sacrament must be spoken.”
The man stepped over the threshold, strolling over to where the girl lay and dropped to his knees, “May the warmth of the sun guide you home, may the summer winds whisper the promises of your ancestors. May you find the light within you to come back to us.” He stood and then brushed off his robes, “We will take her to the Pool of Light and beg for her safe return to us.”
“I’ll wait,” Delilah replied stubbornly as the monk sighed in annoyance.
“Your being here will do her no good. I will send Brother Paul to collect you when we have news.” With that, he turned back to the girl and the monks descended around her, whispering healing words as they lifted her body and walked deeper into the temple. Delilah exhaled sharply through her nose, but knew that the holy men would not budge with her being there, so chose to walk back down the hill by herself, the lights flickering in the lanterns that lit her path.
‘Please keep her safe.’ Delilah sent a prayer into the universe as she entered the Sandgoose for the second time that evening. Phyllis was quietly cleaning up the table that was used as a makeshift gurney and glanced at her when she came into the building.
“How is the girl?” She asked, turning her eyes back towards her task.
Delilah shook her head, “I don’t know.” She admitted, her eyebrows furrowing in concern. “They made me leave the Temple before I could ask anymore questions.”
Phyllis sighed, “Damn monks. I dislike them, but they do provide a good service to the town.”
“Why don't you like them?” Delilah asked, sliding into an unoccupied stool. The same tea that was given to her the day previous was back in front of her, steaming in the cool air.
“Too secretive.” She said simply, “I’ve seen lights from their temple late into the night and they never tell us anything.” Phyllis frowned and then nodded at Delilah, “Would you like something to eat, dear?”
“I could never repay you,” Delilah replied, trying to ignore the rumbling in her belly.
Phyllis shook her head and smiled, “It’s on me. If you’re looking for work, I can always use another bartender here. Pay’s good and you meet a lot of interesting people. I'll even let you stay in a room if you’re inclined.”
“Thanks, but I have different matters to attend to.” Delilah said, sipping at her tea.
“Come now, the snow will soon be falling and something tells me you have nowhere else to go.”
True, she figured her time for getting to Garth had passed with the rain that rolled through the night before and into the morning. She sighed and glanced back up at Phyllis. “I’ll help you in return for board and food this evening. Fair warning, I'm not sure if I have ever poured a drink.”
“It's simple!” Phyllis brushed her hands off on her apron and her smile grew wider, “Come here, I’ll show you.”
The bartender went into a detailed account of her newfangled machine that poured drinks for patrons and before long, she was slinging beers at every person who walked into the Sandgoose.
That was until a young man walked in. He was tall, handsome, with bright red hair and freckles to match. He looked around the bar and when his eyes found Delilah's she watched as shock, fear, anger, and surprise flashed across his face.
“Abbigail?!” His voice, strained and high pitched as he came rushing over to the bar, slamming his hands down on the counter.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Phyllis demanded, glaring at the man who had disrespected her countertop. The man, with shaking hands, pulled out a scrap of well worn paper, and unfolded it, showing the two women the picture. “My stars! Delilah, that’s you!”
Sure enough, the woman staring back at them was a spitting image of the young woman. “That can’t be me! I'm me!” She tried to reason, but the man shook his head.
“My sister, Abbigail, was taken from us by the sea,” He explained, “She was sailing with her betrothed and their ship was taken by pirates.”
“Reaver?!”
“I don’t know what crew attacked their vessel, but none of them ever returned to shore. Except now, you’re here! Mother and Father will be so happy! We must return to Bowerstone at once.” He reached behind the counter and tried to tug at Delilah’s arm, but she recoiled.
“I’m not Abbigail!” She snapped, taking a step back.
“But you are! By Skorm’s grace, you are alive!” He went to move on her again and she took another step back.
“I'm not going anywhere with you.” She replied flatly. The man looked surprised by her unwillingness to cooperate.
“Come now Abbigail, surely you remember me? Your brother? You’ve only been gone a year.”
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, “Look, I don't know why she looks like me, but I can assure you, I’m not your sister.”
“Please, just come with me. We can sort this all out when we get home and…”
“I have to stay anyways.” Delilah responded, “There's a girl at the Temple of Light who I need to know is going to be okay. I won’t go anywhere until her wellbeing is known.”
The man threw up his hands in defeat, “Fine. Have it your way. I will stay here until you know your friend is safe and then we will return home.”
She sighed and her shoulders sagged, “Fine. I’ll come with you. We can sort this all out and I will prove to you that I am not your sister.”
The man clapped his hands giddily, “I will send a courier ahead to announce your return!”
“I'm not…” She began to say before the man rushed out the door. Sighing again, she turned to Phyllis. “You believe me, right?”
Phyllis shrugged and turned back to her duties, “I’m staying out of this.”
Delilah groaned and handed another drink to a thirsty patron, “I’ve never seen the man before.”
“Well, you did bear a striking resemblance to that woman.” Phyllis countered, setting a plate heaped with food in front of Delilah. “Maybe there were two of you running around Albion?”
“I have no idea,” She said, glancing at the food, “Do you need me for anything else?”
“No, eat your food and get some sleep. I’ll fetch you if the monks return with news.”
“Thank you, Phyllis. I appreciate this more than you know.” She nearly inhaled her food as the bar began to clear, the hour growing late.
The same room she had used the night before beckoned sleep, but the conversation with the man in the bar kept her mind busy. She tried to make sense of the impossible, but each conclusion left her more frustrated than the last one. She thought of the clothes he wore, finely tailored and crisp, and then thought about the clothing that most of Albion’s people wore. Obviously, he came from a wealthy family which led Delilah to wonder if she should play dumb, falling in with the wealthy of Albion would aide her greatly.
She formulated a plan in her brain, wracking her thoughts to figure out what her best way of going about this lie. Would they believe her when she said she lost her memory? What if the parents saw through her façade? The questions swirled through her brain as the grey light of dawn crept through the window. A slight knock at the door made her jump and she rolled over, “Come in.”
The door opened slowly and Phyllis peeked her head in, “Good morning love, Father Abbot is here to see you.”
She nearly tore from the room, rushing down the stairs to where the monk was sitting. “What news do you have?!” She asked breathlessly as she sat down across from him.
“The girl lives.” He replied, taking her hands, “You saved her, Delilah. She wishes to speak to her savior.”
“Lead the way, I’ll follow.” She responded as he stood and she followed him back up the familiar hill they had climbed the night before.
When they reached the temple, he led her to a small white building tucked into the woods. Delilah rushed ahead and scanned the room for the girl. Her wounds were still bandaged, sadness behind her eyes. Her flame red hair hung tattered and scorched, the clothing she wore a stark contrast against her marred skin.
The girl saw Delilah and a little smile crossed her face, “You’re the one who saved me.”
“Someone had to.” She said, sitting down next to the girl, “Are you okay?”
Tears welled up behind her eyes, “Momma and Poppa…Mr. Abbott said that they aren’t here anymore.”
Delilah took the girl’s hands in her own, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
The girl began to cry again and Delilah felt her own eyes well up. She knew what it was like to lose everything. When she looked back up, Delilah could see her red-rimmed eyes, thick with tears. “Little one, what’s your name?” Delilah finally asked as the girl sniffled.
“I’m Hannah,” She said, “What will happen to me?”
Father Abbott entered the room and stood by the far wall, “You’ll stay here with us. I will teach you the ways of the Light.”
Delilah glanced over at the monk, “You can ensure her protection?”
He nodded, “Yes, we can keep her safe.” He ushered Delilah from the building, “What you did for the girl, we can never repay you. However, I can bless you with the Light.” He reached his hand out to her and she took it. His grip was calloused, the hand had seen a lifetime of hard work, “Go with the sun, may it guide you to where you are meant to be.”
She thanked him and then walked away from the temple, dreading what waited for her back at the Sandgoose.
The moment she entered the building, she heard the name Abbigail being called. She turned and saw the same man as before, a smile nearly breaking his face, “How is your little friend?”
“She's okay.”
The man’s smile grew excited as he reached out once more to tug on her hand. This time, Delilah didn’t even flinch. “Come now, I have the coach packed for the journey back to Bowerstone.
Delilah’s stomach lurched. The task ahead of her made her nervous. Lying to the hopeful was something that she disdained, but if that was the path forward, she would take it. She smiled back, her lips wavering as the man turned from her, walking down the street.
“Mother and father will be beside themselves when they see you, Abbigail.” He rambled as they approached a large building on the outskirts of town, a sleek walnut carriage attached to two fine horses in front of them.
“Brother,” The word sounded so strange on her lips, like she had never used them before, “Forgive me, but I truly don’t remember a thing. I don’t even remember your name.”
He stopped and turned to her and for a moment, she was afraid she had said something foolish. However, the moment soon passed as he shook his head, as if amused by her memory loss.
“I’m Adrian, silly. Now come, we haven’t the time to dally.” With that, he turned on his heel, snapping his finger in annoyance as they walked towards the carriage, “Hurry up, now! We haven’t got all day!”
A man scurried from the shadows and opened the door of the coach, keeping his eyes cast down as they passed. Delilah glanced at him as they stepped into the luxurious interior of the carriage. The door shut behind them and she sat across from her supposed brother, watching him carefully. With a lurch, their transport began to move and the world behind the window began to blur.
“Now, tell me, do you know how you ended up in Oakfield?” Her brother asked as she turned from the window.
“I was found at sea by some merchants. They took me to Oakfield and that’s where I found you.” She lied, her heart beating quickly.
“I had been in Oakfield for days before I saw you.” He replied, narrowing his eyes.
“Er, yes. I tried to get back to Bowerstone on my own several times, but each one fell through. The last trip ended up back in Oakfield too with the girl.”
“Ah yes, your friend. I’m glad she lives. These roads can be dangerous for travelers, but our horses are swift, not even the fastest bandits can catch us.
A small inn rolled past the window, the rain hitting the windowpanes as they passed. The water refracted the light, little starbursts coating the pane of glass. Just as quickly as they appeared, they vanished into the grey.
“Mother and Father, what are they like?” Delilah asked, testing the waters of knowledge.
“Oh, they are wonderful. They raised us on fine culture, beautiful music, and wonderful food.”
‘Sounds like Abbigail might have thrown herself into the ocean,’ Delilah thought to herself as Adrian rambled on, talking about his time as a child, swearing of the pair’s closeness. Delilah should have paid more attention to the conversation, but the dread she had felt when they left Oakfield had settled in her belly. The sky began to turn dark as the dirt road they had been traveling on turned into cobblestones. Lights began to appear in the window as the carriage was drawn to a crawl. Finally, it slowed and then stilled completely.
“We’re here!” Adrian announced, wrenching the door open and bounding down the steps to rush into the house. Delilah stayed behind, looking up at the architecture of the home. It was well taken care of, the walk clear of any debris and the siding freshly painted. The house itself was nearly as large as Reaver’s, the two stories looming over her like a threat.
She swallowed nervously as the front door was pushed open and two people rushed out. Delilah didn’t even have time to register as she was pulled into a strong hug, a woman sobbing in her ear.
“The gods are good, Nathan!” The woman shrieked, making Delilah wince. She was wildly uncomfortable with the whole ordeal.
Finally, they let her go and Delilah could finally look at her assailants. The pair was old, the man sporting a large beard and a belly to match while the woman was wispy, her hair making up about half her height. Both had grey hair and lines of age had etched themselves into their faces.
“Mother, father.” Delilah greeted with what she hoped would be a convincing delivery. The couple didn’t seem to mind as she was pulled into the house. The layout was similar to Reaver’s home, the excess gaud of the pirate’s dwelling now replaced with tasteful décor.
“Come now, pet. Come sit in the library,” Her “mother” ushered her into a large room with books on shelves that disappeared into the shadows. She sat in a fine, high-backed leather chair and the pair sat themselves across from her, clasping hands.
“Abbigail…what happened?” The question that she desperately wanted to know. What happened? How did she end up in this world that she obviously did not belong to? What cruel twist of fate had led her to be sitting in the library of people who claimed she was their daughter?
“I…I don’t know. I don’t remember a thing.” She said quietly, looking down at her hands, “I was found in the ocean by merchants, and they took me to Oakfield. I tried to make it back to Bowerstone, but something stopped me every time.
“You don’t remember a thing?” The woman asked, furrowing her brow, “What of your fiancé, Isaac?”
She shrugged, “I don’t know what happened to him.”
The woman sighed through her nose and then stood, watching Delilah in a way that made her want to squirm, “Very well, pet. Come now, we’ll have dinner in the parlor.”
She was led up a wide set of stairs and into a low room, a table stretched out filled to the brim with all sorts of delicacies. Delilah’s belly growled in hunger as she sat across from Adrian, privy to the glances he would throw her on occasion. She helped herself to a little bit of everything on the table from roast duck to some sort of green vegetable she wasn’t familiar with. By the time she had finished piling her plate, the helpings nearly dripped onto the tablecloth. Her mother looked over at her disapprovingly, eyeballing the pile of food.
“Abbigail, you don’t need all that.”
A memory flashed before her eyes and for a split second, she saw someone standing behind the old woman, their voices echoing in tandem with one another.
“Delilah, you don’t need all that.” The tone was disapproving, and it made her belly twist. She blinked and shook her head.
“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”
“I said, you don’t need all that food. With your return, I’m sure suitors from every corner of Albion will be knocking at our door now that your return has been announced.”
It took everything in Delilah’s power not to let out an audible groan. “So soon after my return?” She squeaked out as the older woman sighed.
“Of course, pet. You’re nearly 25, practically a spinster.”
“I got married,” Adrian said, shoveling a piece of pork into his mouth, “Remember Heather?”
“No,” She responded flatly as he swallowed, taking another bite of food. Delilah decided she didn’t particularly care for her so-called brother as he chewed loudly.
“She was your childhood best friend. We’re having our third baby soon,” He responded as his mother beamed at him.
“Carrying on the family legacy,” She praised, glancing over at Delilah, “I will not go to my grave before I see you have children, Abbigail. It’s been over a year, and I march ever closer to my death.”
Delilah bit back a retort, now moving the food back and forth around the plate as everything became a soup of mashed potatoes. “Fine, I guess.” She gave into the demands as a smile crossed her mother’s face that didn’t quite meet her eyes.
“Excellent. I will inform the town crier that we will be seeking eligible bachelors for your hand.” With that, she stood from the table and walked from the dining room to inevitably tell the town crier that Delilah was single.
“Where is my room?” She snapped, standing suddenly. Her father seemed startled by the sudden outburst.
“Come, I’ll show you,” He said gruffly, following suit. It was the first time the older man had spoken since her arrival.
“Thank you,” Delilah followed him from the room, the lit braziers casting light on the portraits that hung from the wall. She paused at one of them. The woman in the portrait had long red hair, tied back from her face to reveal soft features. High arched brows sat atop a pair of bright, inquisitive pair of indigo eyes. Her lips were full, and the artist had taken the liberty of adding a tint of deep pink to them. The only sharp feature in the portrait was a pointed nose with a smattering of freckles.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Her father said suddenly, making her jump.
“It feels like it,” She replied. “I’ve seen enough ghosts to last a lifetime.”
The old man nodded as he understood. He turned around again and finally, opened a door into a large, well-furnished room. “Goodnight, Abbigail.” He said she walked into the room, the door shutting behind her. She took a moment to look around the room, a fire roaring in the fireplace at the foot of a large bed. Another portrait hung on the mantle, the same woman looking down at her. She crossed the room and looked at herself in a mirror propped up on a vanity.
While it was obvious the woman in the portraits was the body she now inhabited, the painters had exaggerated her face. She sighed and looked back at the bed, her stomach once again grumbling at her. She ignored it and walked over to one of the bedside tables, tugging on one of the drawers. It opened easily, but to her dismay, she found nothing inside. She opened the bottom of the table and felt around inside. Still, she found nothing. Her fingers brushed against a suspiciously low part of the table and as she pressed on it, the piece of wood fell into her hands, surprisingly heavy. She removed secret compartment and to her surprise, found a book. She put the compartment on the table and sat down on the bed, opening the leatherbound tome.
“Dear diary,
Today was my 23rd birthday. Mother and Father were so angry with me when I refused to dance with Lucien. He is such an eerie man and the thought of him touching me is enough to make me want to vomit. They told me he’s one of the richest men in Albion, but you couldn’t pay me all the money in the world to let him put his clammy hands on me. They told me he lost his wife and child a year back and I should take pity on him, but I cannot, Diary! I would choose any man in this world if it meant never having to see him again!
Jane saw my distress during the party and came to my bedroom to check on me after the party. She is so beautiful with her curls and her green eyes. I wish to kiss her, Diary, but what would Mother and Father say if I kissed one of the servants, let alone a girl?!”
Delilah realized it was the diary of Abbigail. She felt as if she was intruding on a private part of the woman’s life, but perhaps a glimpse into the life of her predecessor, she could easily navigate the waters of her newfound life.
“Dear diary,
Lucien came back today. He asked for my hand and my parents were delighted. I don’t want anything to do with the man, but yet he keeps coming back like a cockroach. Thinking of bearing his children fills me with dread, and a life away from Jane sounds like a never-ending nightmare. I pretended not to hear when he came to visit, keeping my head glued to my cross-stitch pattern in the parlor, but his voice carries. It’s like ice creeping into my veins. I’m sure my parents will soon come to tell me that I have accepted his hand and that they will soon ship me off to live with him in Castle Fairfax. I fear the doom that awaits me like his first wife and child. They say he’s mad, Diary! I am supposed to be the madman’s bride!
Jane came to see me again today. I kissed her. She kissed me back. I think I love her.”
The pages continued about her mother and the life that awaited her in the future, until one page caught her eyes.
“Dear Diary,
I’m supposed to marry Lucien tomorrow. With all I know about the man, I will not be his bride. Tonight, Jane and I will escape Bowerstone with my family’s riches and ferry a trip to new lands. I want to be happy with her, Diary. I will be happy with her. Together, we’ll find a home that we can call our own. Perhaps find refuge with the pirates in Bloodstone or the farmers in Oakfield. I do not care as long as it is with her.
She is coming to see me tonight, Diary! Any moment, we flee this wretched place and we’ll at long last be out of their grasp!”
The next few pages were wrinkled and torn so Delilah couldn’t read them. Finally, she found a legible page.
“Dear diary,
Today is my 24th birthday. Tomorrow, we will set off to greet Isaac’s family in the small seaside town of Andolin. I hope they like me.”
That was the final page of the diary. The rest of the pages were blank. Delilah sighed and flopped back down on the bed, her mind swirling with thoughts of the woman who lay in this bed before her. Sleep would not come easy this night.