3 - Iona #2
She wipes a tear as it falls, then takes steps closer to the river’s edge, dipping her hands into the fresh water to splash it on her face. Then she stands and lets out a shuddering, mournful sigh.
“Might I meet her someday?” Iona asks.
Jacira sniffles, then nods. “I will ask her.”
Aster goes to Jacira and nuzzles his nose into her hand until she pets him and regards him with a melancholy smile.
“I wonder… how do the Lysanders fit into all of this?” Iona asks.
“Ah, yes. That is my brother’s doing. Goncalo was aggrieved by our mother’s curse.
The river became his obsession, as was our father’s hope.
Father refused to accept defeat and spent his final days trying to circumvent our mother’s magic to no avail,” Jacira says.
“Goncalo inherited this vendetta and knew he could not overcome the curse alone, so he decided to return to Europe in search of a powerful benefactor. The Lysanders agreed to consider his petition in return for his allegiance and faithful service for a number of years. They had their own coven, you see. A small but formidable group lead by your paternal grandmother.”
Samuel had once told Iona of the Evoras’ time serving the Lysander family. That had been how he and his brother, Victor, had befriended Leona Evora all those years ago. She recollects this with new insight now knowing why the Evoras had entered into such an agreement in the first place.
“With the Lysanders’ help, Goncalo intended to cast our mother out of this realm and into the next, then claim the river for his own,” Jacira says.
“But… if she was sent to the other side, would that not end her suffering?” Iona asks.
“Restless spirits cannot find peace that way, as he very well knows,” Jacira says.
“Some part of my mother wishes to stay in this world, so much so that she’s anchored herself here until the day comes when she should pass on completely.
If she were forced out, her soul would be lost, trapped in purgatory, roaming endlessly without hope of resolution or reprieve of her sorrow. ”
“A fate worse than death,” Ariadne murmurs.
“He would do such a thing to his own mother?” Iona asks incredulously.
“Quite easily. He sees the river as a mere commodity and our mother as an obstacle standing in the way of his self-proclaimed inheritance,” Jacira says.
“His efforts were in vain, in the end, but I knew he would come looking for you soon enough, when word of your victory reached him. His appeal would have been a carefully crafted manipulation, so you might think you were helping rather than hurting. Today was that day, as yesterday’s stars predicted, and so I approached you before he could. ”
“Is that why you remained in Brazil? To fight against him should he ever try to return in force?” Ariadne asks.
“I would stay regardless. It is my home, my haven. I will never leave it behind,” Jacira says. “With the magic I garner here, I travel across the continent healing those who would otherwise perish. It is my chosen penance.”
“How did you save the baby?” Iona asks. “I too wish to become a healer, and the pendant is a powerful tool in that endeavor, but there is a great deal I still have yet to learn.”
Jacira regards her with burgeoning pride that brightens her brown eyes. “I would be glad to teach you.”
They spend the remainder of the afternoon discussing healing magic. Ariadne and Iona had been taught how to heal basic cuts and wounds at college, but Jacira knows how to regenerate entire organs with her magic.
“Entorpecida,” Jacira murmurs, with a hand firmly pressed to her heart.
Then, in a rather unsettling demonstration, Jacira cuts a line down her torso to open her chest and removes her ribs to show them what each organ looks like, where they are located, and what services they perform for the body.
“Could we not dissect an animal instead?” Ariadne winces, her face turning a sickly shade of green.
“Unless you intend to become an animal healer, this is a more accurate representation,” Jacira says in a casual tone. “If you mean to heal serious wounds, you must know what it is you are healing and why.”
“So long as you are in no pain…” Iona forces herself to look.
“Yes, yes, not to worry,” Jacira says. “This is the heart, these two darker parts are my lungs, this is the liver, the stomach, the intestines down there, and that is the uterus.”
Ariadne heaves, putting a hand over her mouth. “Pardon me.”
“You’d best accustom yourself to this if you mean to heal the sick,” Jacira warns. “Blood and viscera are commonplace.”
“What are those two?” Iona asks, pointing them out.
“The kidneys,” Jacira says. “They purify your blood.”
Once she’s reattached her ribs and healed her chest, a feat that leaves Iona entirely in awe of the woman’s casual mastery, Jacira takes them to her wagon to explain the many uses of her medicinal herbs. In that, Ariadne is already well versed and even manages to teach Jacira a thing or two.
“My father is exceedingly skilled in phytology,” Ariadne explains. “He was my sole instructor on the subject.”
“I would very much like to be acquainted with him so we might trade in secrets and skills,” Jacira says. “One is never too old to learn.”
Ariadne smiles. “I’ll extend the invitation. Or…”
Her smile fades as she lowers her head, then clears her throat and walks away, leaving Jacira perplexed. She glances at Iona with a question in her gaze.
“Her mother exiled her when she did not claim the pendant,” Iona whispers.
“Oh…” Jacira says. “Another family broken by greed. Will we never learn?”
Iona doesn’t know how to respond, so she goes after Ariadne, finding her at the edge of the river.
“Ari,” Iona says.
“Shh!” Ariadne hushes her, motioning for her to duck down.
Iona does so, going tense with fear as she takes careful steps to Ariadne’s side. What is it?
Look. Ariadne points downriver where a majestic wild cat with orange fur and black spots laps water from the river.
Beautiful, Iona marvels.
“Ah, you’ve met Bea,” Jacira says. “Magnificent, is she not?”
“Yes,” Iona whispers, in complete awe of the creature. “What sort of animal is she?”
“A jaguar,” Jacira says. “I see her cubs have left her.”
“Oh,” Iona sighs with disappointment. “I would have loved to see them.”
Jacira hastens back to her wagon and rifles around inside until she returns holding a rolled-up piece of canvas and hands it to Iona. She unfurls it, revealing a painting of Bea with three cubs, two with orange fur and one with black fur.
“How lovely,” Iona smiles.
A crack of thunder startles them and sends Bea scurrying back under the cover of the trees.
“It is nearly sunset,” Jacira observes. “Come, I shall take you back. We mustn’t be here after dark.”
Iona is reluctant to leave, but when the rain becomes a torrential downpour, she is glad for the shelter of the wagon. Jacira entertains them with stories of her travels through Brazil, Paraguay, and Argentina, until the wagon comes to a stop all too soon.
“How long do you intend to stay in Brazil?” Jacira asks.
“Only for a few days more,” Iona says. “We have prior engagements in France and Nepal.”
“My, what a journey,” Jacira says.
When they exit the wagon, they are only a few paces away from the bungalow. The rain is worse here, compelling them to run along the side wall towards the entrance.
“You are more than welcome to-” Jacira screams, a sudden and terrifying sound that has Ariadne wrenching Iona against her and using her staff to form a protective shield around them.
“What…” Iona gasps when they turn the corner where Goncalo lays prone within a circle of acicular runes that burn her eyes to behold. “No… Oh no…”
His eyes open and unseeing, Goncalo’s chest is ripped open, his throat slit, his blood pooling in the mud. A truly gruesome sight. Jacira falls to her knees, her body racked with violent sobs, and Iona goes to embrace her, but Ariadne holds her back.
“The malefician could still be near,” Ariadne hisses.
Iona searches for any movement in the surrounding trees. Though visibility is terrible in the darkness and rain, and though her eyes could deceive her, she imagines the malefician must have fled the moment their ritual was complete.
When Jacira cries out another anguished sob, Iona takes her arm back, giving Ariadne a reassuring look, before going to Jacira’s side and embracing her, attempting to console her as best as she can. Ariadne approaches the circle and drags her foot over the symbols to wipe them away.
Jacira crawls to her brother’s side, gingerly moving him so he’s flat on his back. Upon further inspection, she gasps. “His heart… it is missing.”
Iona meets Ariadne’s gaze, reminded of the horse and the bear that Elise had mutilated. She’d only ever slaughtered animals but if she’d been left to cultivate her power, there is no knowing what horrors she could have committed, like the one they see before them now.
Conflicted emotions leave Iona entirely at a loss, unable to shed tears, though she is unspeakably aggrieved. She’d only just met the man, had turned him away when she learned of his mercenary schemes, and now he is gone.
“Why did the stars not warn of this?” Jacira relents, a thousand conflicting emotions at war in her expression, too. “Oh… I cannot… How could this happen…”
Iona only holds her, needing no explanation for her sorrow.
She knows well the conflict of such feelings after what Elise had done to her and cannot imagine how much worse it would be to lose an estranged brother in such a violent manner.
Thunder cracks overhead as the cold rain cleanses the earth of darkness and washes the blood away.
“Do not let the water touch your skin,” Jacira warns, her throat raw from sobbing.
Iona and Ariadne take caution as they help her gently place Goncalo’s body into the Rio Paraná. Jacira trudges through the water with him, pulling the corpse farther into the dark abyss until it sinks beneath the surface.
“Descanse em paz,” Jacira whispers.
A dreadful wail reverberates through the dark as the wind picks up into a vicious gale. Jacira is almost swept up in it, but she manages to crawl out of the water before the current pulls her under.
“It is Mother!” Jacira yells over the wind. “We must leave now!”
Ariadne crafts a portal with haste, pulling Iona through and holding out her hand for Jacira to take. They leave so quickly that Iona hasn’t the chance to see much of anything except the faint outline of a womanly figure hovering over the water, obscured by wind, rain, and fluttering leaves.
Ariadne closes the portal, and at once the noise of the wind abates, leaving them in eerie silence.
“I wasn’t sure if she’d…” Jacira says. “He is still her son. I thought it right to give him back to nature. Perhaps I was wrong.”
“No,” Iona says, “I do not interpret it as anger, but rather grief.”
Jacira nods absentmindedly, letting the rain pelt her until her gray hair is dripping with it. They lead her back to the bungalow and give her a cup of tea to calm her nerves. It’s only when Ariadne hands her a cup as well that Iona notices her hands are trembling.
“I must…” Jacira swallows hard. “I should send word to the family.”
Iona and Ariadne simultaneously conjure a pen and ink before they realize what the other is doing.
“Thank you.” Jacira takes the pen and ink from Iona and nods at Ariadne, who sets hers aside.
“Where will you send it?” Iona asks.
Jacira writes her note and sends it off, the letter disappearing with a small pop. “Lisbon. They live near to the Castle of Alcácova. Did I not say?”
“No.” Iona shakes her head.
“You may wish to visit them,” Jacira says. “You should. They are still your family. They are not all like… Goncalo.”
Iona considers it but isn’t sure if the timing is quite right.
Perhaps someday she will venture to Lisbon, but she does not wish to impede on the Evoras in a time of great mourning, to divert the attention away from Goncalo’s passing, and risk enduring other attempted manipulations.
She’d wished to learn of her history, and she has done so.
“What of the malefician?” Ariadne asks with impatience. “We should confer with any witches and warlocks nearby to see if they’ve noticed-”
“I shall convene with them in time.” Jacira holds up her hand. “You needn’t concern yourself.”
Ariadne blinks, then says, “My staff is capable of shielding against dark magic. I could help in the search and pursuit of the malefician.”
Jacira’s eyes widen at that, but still, she shakes her head. “We shall protect Brazil as we always have. It would be best if you rest tonight and depart in the morning.”
“But why?” Iona asks.
“You are strangers to this land and will almost certainly be the first whom they suspect of treachery. That is very likely why the malefician left Goncalo’s body at your doorstep, to divert attention from the true culprit,” Jacira says.
“You would only distract from the search, which would lead to further bloodshed in the interim. You’ve dealt with a malefician before.
You know how pivotal it is to find them before their magic grows too strong.
You must leave at once and if we have need of your assistance, I shall send a letter. ”
“If you’re sure.” Iona exchanges a glance with Ariadne.
Jacira studies their forlorn expressions and her eyes soften. “Darkness shall always have a presence on this Earth. That we can never change. Grieve my brother’s soul, then move on to brighter days. We are still alive.