Chapter 4

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Autumn in Coriander Village, some time ago.

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Stephane couldn't handle it anymore.  He was at town, dropping off bags of wheat and barley off at the local pub when he heard a comment, obviously directed toward him, about his wife.  He traced the direction of the voice carefully with his eyes, and they landed on Evans the tradesman, who bartered goods for a living.

"No good witch killed all of the trade in decent goods.  All Villnore wants are slaves and prostitutes.  Everyone here sells their girls to Villnore... what a pathetic village.  I wish that Isabelle would just sell herself, and then we'd lose a load of a problem right then and there."

Stephane pounced on him.  He stepped over to Evan's table in a swift instant, planting both hands on the table, and immediately launched his barrage.  "Evans!  Why do you say that about my wife and what makes you think you have the right to speak so dastardly about her?"

It was the loud sound of two palms slamming into the wooden boards that surprised Evans first.  He leaned backwards suddenly, trying to keep as much distance between him and Stephane as possible while sitting at a bench.  The three other men at the table fell silent.

The silence didn't suit Stephane very well.  "Answer me!" he snarled.

Evans let out a shaky breath and then sat up straight again, gripping the metal stein in his hands.  "I... I only heard from Jacob."  He motioned toward the large man at the table with a double chin, wearing a straw hat.  "He said that... that Isabelle was a witch... that she was starting the droughts, selling her daughters, forcing the other townspeople to sell their little girls..."

Stephane let out the air inside his lungs, only realising now that he was holding his breath.  He folded his hands into fists.  "She did not sell her children!  Chantelle died.  She /died/."  His voice was constricted and it was difficult to hear the man speak between his clenched teeth.

Evans lifted both his arms in a surrendering motion.  "Look, pal.  I'm just saying what I've heard.  Jacob said that Isabelle started the trend of selling girls because she sold Chantelle to the traders!  And that she did magic to make sure the everyone else had a poor harvest, and that she'd grow rich.  Olivia's brother just came to town a minute ago and said that Isabelle was prepared to enchant Colette so she would appear to have magic powers and so fetch a higher price from the Villnore traders, and..."

The darkness over Stephane's features cleared, and he leaned back.  "Colette's going to be sold?"

"That's what Olivia's brother said... you don't second-guess the words of a man in black."

"Olivia's brother... works for Villnore...?"

Evan's confidence rose at Stephane's sudden instability.  He straightened himself in his chair and then adjusted his clothes casually.  "Oh yeah.  Ever heard of Fasthands?"  When Stephane didn't respond, he placed his hands behind his head.  "Only one of the swiftest brawlers in all of Villnore.  Someone you don't want to piss off.  They don't look alike... he has a stick for a sister... but when you look closely you'll realise that their faces are similar."

Stephane nodded slowly.  He then turned around and made a brisk walk toward the door of the Inn, but before he was fully outside he was already moving at a brisk run.

It was dark when he arrived back at his farmhouse.  He could barely make out the shapes with his weak lantern, but he could see a horse-drawn cart parked in the laneway.  A figure wearing black clothes, about Isabelle's height, was standing on the steps leading up to the front door.  A little girl beside the dark figure was clear, though, even in the dim porch lights: she was Colette.  Isabelle nodded once, and then placed a hand on the person's shoulder.

Stephane was about to break into a run toward the three when a gentle, yet restraining touch on his arm kept him back.  He glanced behind him and saw Olivia, seemingly appearing from nowhere, wearing a hunter-green dress that was barely visible in the darkness.  He shook her arm free and was about to move forward but he saw the uncertainty in Olivia's eyes, and despite the woman's usual, strong self, there was a hint of fear in her eyes.  He wasn't sure where the fear was directed: it was too dark to see clearly.

Olivia's words were stuttered, which was very unusual, Stephane absently noted.  She was a very good speaker.  "D-o, do you see?  Your wife is selling y-your daughter to the... V-Villnore Slave Traders."

Stephane whirled on the spot.  "Your brother, no less!" he hissed.  Despite himself, he found himself gripping Olivia by the shoulders, nearly lifting her off of the ground by her dress.  "It's not Isabelle's fault!  You're the witch... you're the...!"

Surprise crossed Olivia's features as Stephane acted aggressively toward her.  She recovered quickly, shouting, "Look around you... she has tricked us all.  Given you a plentiful harvest, so the rest of us may suffer.  But despite all of that, she goes off... sells your first daughter Chantelle... and gives Coriander a new idea... the idea of selling young girls to Villnore!  Now, she's selling your second daughter, in front of your eyes, and you turn a blind eye to it?  Stephane!  If you keep siding with her, you'll burn with her.  Open your eyes!  Look at what she's done to you!  Look!"  Olivia struggled in Stephane's grip, feeling the cloth on her dress start to tear under the stress.

Stephane turned a head over his shoulder, and then put Olivia down, but she lost her balance and collapsed backwards, falling on her rear.  Stephane broke off into a run as the cart, with Colette sitting in the back, turned around the fencepost, trotting away.  The farmer pumped his legs and his arms harder, increasing the length of his stride, feeling the cool air hit his sweaty forehead.  "Colette...!  Colette!"  He moved his legs faster, and clenched his jaw.  He felt his heart pump harder than before, the stitch developing in his side, the legs slowly starting to feel heavier and heavier.  But he didn't cease, and kept on running after the single horse drawing its cart with the most precious cargo on board.

Colette watched from the back of the cart as it moved farther out of Stephane's reach.  His breath was starting to become raspy and his throat was sore.  And then Colette lifted her arm up, fingers pointing loosely toward the sky, giving him a statuesque wave.

Stephane stumbled at that point, his legs too tired to hold him up, and he fell forward.  He extended his arms in front of him to break the fall and felt the stones and twigs dig into his hands, felt his face hit the ground, felt the strike of hard path on his knees and hip.  And  besides the sound of his heartbeat and his raspy breathing, he only heard the gallop of a horse on dirt road, and the rhythmic squeak of large wagon wheels spinning.

He lay on the ground, silently cursing himself and his emotional state, for letting his anger come before the safety of his daughter.  He cursed himself for not believing Olivia.  He felt his breath enter his lungs, and he coughed weakly, trying to expel the film that was collecting in his throat.  But his arms were like flab, and his legs like lead.  "Colette..." he croaked, rolling over slowly, putting himself on all fours, and then climbing up to a standing position.

He trotted weakly back to his farmhouse.  While the run took only a few minutes, the walk back seemed to last hours.  He could see the lights from the porch clearly as he walked back, but they didn't ever seem to come closer, no matter how many tired steps he took.  Heavy boot over heavy boot didn't seem to bring him closer to relief... however possible relief was.

When he finally arrived at the house, he could hear frenzied screaming inside the house.  He recognized Isabelle's voice, loud and tearful.  He heard Olivia's voice, raspy and harsh with collected rage.  He hit the front door with a straight arm and walked in.  The two women standing in the middle of the room, gesturing madly at each other, stopped.  Neither of them thought to offer him anything to drink or any place to sit.  They only stared at him, perhaps waiting for him to speak.

"I... how could you do it...?"  Stephane's voice was quiet and measured from the frenzied run.

Olivia spoke first.  "Because she's done it before."

Isabelle threw eyes of fire at Olivia, causing the woman to shrink back a step, then placed her clairvoyant gaze on Stephane, speaking with an icy tone.  "I didn't sell her.  I'm protecting her.  She will be safer with-"

"Safer, -how-?"

"Because-"

Olivia cut Isabelle off, whirling on the accused witch.  "She will NOT be!" she shouted.  "You've sold her to a life of slavery and prostitution!  You've doomed your daughter to slavery again.  Did you witch Stephane so you could create girls to sell for your own personal profit?  All girls, and no sons for him to carry on his name... teaching them, in the meantime, to be witches themselves..."

"You stole Colette's bracelet!  How do I know you do not intend to witch us with it?"

"You made it for her.  A token of your magic.  A way to teach her the tricks of the Devil."  Olivia ground her heel into the floor, keeping her eyes on Isabelle.  "Your tricks end now, demonspawn."

Isabelle turned to Stephane, and her eyes turned endearing.  "/Mon cher/ Stephane.  You must listen to me... I didn't sell Colette to just any traders.  I gave her to Chantelle..."

Stephane lifted a hand to his temple.  "No... speak not her name... let her rest." Stephane mumbled.  He lifted his eyes toward Isabelle, feeling the tears eat at his eyes.  "You don't have any right to speak Chantelle's name!  I loved... Chantelle.  And you sold her to slavery!  I loved Colette... and you sold her to slavery!"

"Chantelle was never sold!  I never sold Chantelle!  She..."

"No!  There's no reason I should believe you anymore!"  Stephane stamped his foot on the ground.  "No reason!  Colette was the only child I had left!  And you took her from me, like you were some sort of goddess!  How could you, Isabelle!  How could you do it?"

"It will turn out right in the end!"

Nothing predicted what had suddenly gotten into Stephane's mind.  With a sob-wrenched breath, he stepped forward and whirled his right arm around, catching Isabelle with the back of his hand.  The woman's head snapped to the side and she spun before collapsing on the ground in a heap.  She groggily picked herself up from the ground, a pile of hair and cloth, placing a hand on her cheek.

Stephane's lips trembled, and he stared at his palms, the blood pounding in his eyes.  "Oh my god.. what have I done..."  Both women were staring at him: Isabelle with a strong sense of defiance, Olivia displaying an expression of surprise, but this turned into a wry smile, as if this somehow amused her.  He shook his head and then walked briskly from the main room with heavy steps, rushing into his room and slamming the door loudly behind him.

The grown man collapsed beside his bed, folding his arms up on the mattress, and thrusting his head into the sheets, the tears unrestrained, the sobs breaking loose from his heart.  Everything went through his mind, and it was such a frightening shock.  He wasn't sure what really stood out most amidst the confusion in his head.  He was so stupid to let this all happen.  He was blind to Isabelle's deception.  He had lost Chantelle and Colette to her.  He was powerless to do anything about it.  He had lashed out and struck Isabelle when he had never struck any of his friends or lovers ever in his life.  Stephane didn't want to be mad at Isabelle.  He felt horrible at having done such a thing, no matter how much she may have deserved it.

No matter how much Isabelle bled for her sins, her blood wouldn't bring Colette back to him.