Tarot

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Tarot Page 4

by Marissa Kennerson


  She looked up at the sky, which was quickly turning from swirls of hot orange into streaky light blues. She needed a plan for the night. The forest was thick with trees and rocks and uneven ground. She was already heavily scratched and bruised, even with the light of day to guide her.

  Finding a rock, Anna sat down and let out a deep breath. She hoisted up her bag and dug through it, placing its contents on the flat surface of the rock. Cold chicken wrapped in cheesecloth, a large loaf of bread, and a generous hunk of a hard cheese. Her stomach rumbled as she tore off a piece of the chicken with her teeth and continued to dig through the bag with her other hand. The food tasted so good, the sitting such a reprieve, she almost forgot her plight.

  “Oh!” Something hard and cold stabbed her hand, and she pulled it away. Anna put the chicken down and wiped her hands on the cheesecloth. Slowly, she reached back into the bag and carefully withdrew what had hurt her. It was the Hermit’s precious star lantern. Anna shook her head, fighting back tears. She knew how much this lantern meant to the Hermit. It had been a gift to him when he was a boy from the Queen, her mother. He never went anywhere without it. He’d also supplied a small bundle of wax and flint. A tiny card fell from the package when she unwrapped the wax.

  It won’t last long; use it wisely. —H.

  Anna marveled at her friends and what they’d done to help her. She thought of the Magician, so sick and alone when Anna had left her. The thought gave her resolve, and she packed up the bag and started out once again. At least with the lantern she’d be able to go a little longer. If she was being chased, she couldn’t stop out in the open. She’d go a bit farther and find a place to hide, and maybe even sleep, for the night.

  * * *

  Darkness fell like a hammer.

  Anna had never experienced such blackness. She couldn’t even see her own hand in front of her face. She stopped and looked up.

  “Father, if you are out there, and you are the Moon, now would be a good time to show yourself.” She was answered with silence. “Thought so,” she said, disappointed. She heard something rustle through the trees, and her breath caught in her throat. She had no idea what kinds of animals lived in this forest. For a moment she missed the safety of the Tower. At least she had shelter there, a bed, friends, light.

  She unclenched her fist and put the necklace her aunt had given her around her neck, tucking it into the front of her gown. She got down on her knees and felt through the satchel. She’d placed the lantern and flint near the top and found them easily. Anna was good with her hands from all the years of weaving, and was able to strike the flint and light the lantern on her third attempt.

  The light sparked a feeling of hope in Anna’s chest. It was such an exquisite lantern, with the perforated metal star swinging at its center throwing light and snowflake-like patterns around her.

  She held the lantern up. She had to find shelter.

  As she walked deeper into the woods, fatigue started to overcome her. Her thoughts clouded, and she wondered if she’d gotten lost or if the sea was really just a myth. She did not smell salt air or feel a mist. She stumbled and fell to the ground, scraping her legs even more.

  She was dragging herself up, almost ready to sleep on the spot, but the ground began to vibrate with the sound of horse hooves pounding the earth. She couldn’t hear them yet, but she could feel them. Heart racing, she held the lantern up, but it only lit the space directly in front of her.

  Men’s voices called to one another in the distance. This time she knew she was not hallucinating. What had she been thinking—a girl on foot trying to outrun an army of men?

  Anna dropped to her knees once more, and put the lantern on the ground beside her. She opened the satchel and took out a few pieces of her tapestries. She always thought best at her loom; this would have to do.

  She threw the pieces in front of her. The images stared back at her. There was a Page and a Queen and a King. There was a girl having a tea party and a boy swimming in a vast sea.

  She studied them. There was no doubt in her mind that she was about to be caught, but maybe she could talk her way out of it.

  Anna focused on the fragments again and wished a hopeless wish that she could dive into them—leave this world behind and go to a place like the one spread before her. She pressed her palms to the pieces and closed her eyes.

  When she opened them, she was still surrounded by darkness, but she no longer heard the sound of horse hooves or the voices of men.

  She gathered her things quickly and stood up. Perhaps they were farther away than she’d thought. Maybe she’d find the sea after all.

  Anna’s body pulsed with renewed energy, and she quickened her pace. Soon she came to a bridge.

  It was built of stone and dripped with green moss. Anna stepped onto it, feeling the air change. The cold wet around her shifted to a dry warmth. She tossed back the hood of her cloak. When Anna reached the middle of the bridge, she tried to hold the lantern out to see what waters lay beneath, but all she could see was darkness. She found a rock at her feet and threw it toward the water, but she never heard a sound. The air felt warm but thin, giving her the sensation of being suspended at a great height.

  Anna’s fingers ached from gripping the lantern so tightly. Her next step landed her in something gelatinous and sticky. She tried to pull her foot back, but it was stuck.

  She bent down to tug at her boot, and her head knocked against what felt like a wall of viscous sludge. Disgusted, Anna put her arms through the muck to get at her foot, but instead of more stickiness, her hands landed in warm water.

  “What sort of trick is this?” Anna used her hands to part the wall and gasped at what lay before her. Half of her was in a shallow body of warm water, the sky above her full of stars shimmering like diamonds, and her other half was on the stone bridge, stuck in the sludge. Frightened but also delighted, Anna grabbed the satchel and lantern and pulled the rest of her body through the sticky wall and into this other place, with its soothing water and golden starlight.

  She stared up at the navy sky with its twinkling lights. And that was when she saw it, round and white and glowing: the Moon. She thought of what her aunt had said about the legend of her real father.

  “Where did you come from?” a deep voice asked.

  “Me?” she asked the Moon, placing a hand on her chest.

  “Yes, you. But I’m over here.”

  Anna whipped around to see a boy about her age, shirtless, lean chest gleaming in the moonlight.

  “You seemed to come out of nowhere,” he said.

  Anna stumbled backward in shock. She expected to meet the cool gooeyness of the wall, but instead found herself in the water. She held up her bag, not wanting her tapestry pieces to get wet, and tried to push out of the shallow water with her free hand.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you.” The boy crept toward her, holding out his hand as if approaching a frightened animal, which was exactly what Anna felt like. Her hair was a tangled mess, she was covered in scratches and bruises, and she was completely disoriented. She couldn’t even get enough traction to stand up without dropping her bag into the water. Anna looked up at the boy, who stood above her with his hand extended. He looked at her warmly. Anna gave up and reached for his hand.

  His grip was strong, and he pulled her up easily.

  “Thank you,” Anna whispered, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

  “Are you okay?”

  Anna turned around and looked for the wall, the bridge, any sign of the forest from which she’d just come. Aware that the boy was watching, she stopped herself from searching the open air for an entrance. On one side of her stood the boy and a long stretch of white sand. On the other was a tranquil sea, black beneath the moonlight and stretching as far as the eye could see. There was no wall or forest or bridge.

  Suddenly Anna heard the clip-clop of horse h
ooves and braced herself.

  “James, what’s going on here?” A girl with waist-length white-blond hair and the longest legs Anna had ever seen pulled up beside them, splashing her with water. Anna blinked and hugged her bag closer.

  “Ivy,” James said. “I just found this girl. I think she’s in trouble.”

  “Does she talk?” the girl asked, looking down at Anna from her horse.

  Anna cleared her throat. As exhausted as she was, the girl’s dismissive tone was not lost on her.

  “Yes, I talk.”

  “Do you need help?” asked the boy. “I’m James, and this is Ivy.”

  “My name is . . .” She paused, wondering if she should tell them her real name. The King would be looking for her. “Anna.” She was too tired to think quickly, but she was already weaving a story in her head. Next they would ask where she came from.

  “Nice to meet you, Anna.” James extended his hand once more. The gesture was so simple and kind that it made Anna smile.

  “You too.” Anna took his hand, and they shook gently.

  “Do you need somewhere to stay, Anna?”

  “James,” Ivy scolded. “She’s a stranger.”

  Anna felt her face go red again.

  “Ivy, you take the horse. We’ll walk back to the villa. Lara and Daniel will know what to do.” James paused and looked Anna over. “Can you walk?”

  Anna looked up at Ivy, who was glaring down at her. “I can walk,” Anna said.

  Snapping the reins and turning the horse around, Ivy looked back at them. “Suit yourselves. See you back there. I’ll tell them to get a bath ready. I can smell her from here.” Ivy tore up the beach on her horse.

  “Ignore her,” James said.

  “Forgive me. I’ve traveled a great distance—” Anna began.

  James gently placed his hand on her arm. “I like it; it’s earthy.”

  Anna looked at him. It reminded her of a joke the Fool would make. She raised her eyebrows at him and smiled.

  “You are too kind.”

  “Come on. Let’s get you to the villa. Can I carry your bag for you?”

  She hesitated, unsure if she could walk much farther.

  “Thank you,” she said, handing it over.

  They walked in silence, and Anna, exhausted, took in what she could. The ground was sandy, and it sank beneath her heavy boots. The air was warm and moist and pleasant. Anna was overdressed in the heavy cloak, but she kept it on for a layer of protection. The Moon, bright against the dark sky, seemed to follow them as they went. James would look over at her now and then, making sure she was okay.

  She kept looking out at the sea, black and seemingly infinite to their left. The warm breeze lifted its salty scent and made a gentle swooshing sound as the tide came in and out.

  Suddenly the ground beneath her felt as if it were turning to liquid, and a blackness closed in around her vision.

  “I don’t feel very good,” Anna said. She wasn’t sure she could take another step. James stopped and took her elbow.

  “You need to get out of this. You must be burning up.” He unhooked the cloak and took if off her shoulders. “Now take a breath.”

  Anna did as he said, and she experienced a second of relief.

  “I don’t know if I can walk anymore.”

  “We’re almost there,” James said. “Look.” He pointed up the beach.

  Ahead was a giant white villa. Its shutters were painted turquoise, and warm yellow light poured from the tall, wide windows facing the sea. The Moon lit up the ceramic tiles of the shiny red roof. The villa was flanked on either side by tall, lush palm trees.

  James guided her gently toward the house. When they reached the steps, the front doors flew open and a young man and woman rushed out.

  Anna looked up and saw Ivy at the top of the steps, her arms crossed, leaning in the doorframe.

  “Why didn’t you tell us she was in such rough shape, Ivy?” Anna heard someone say. As Anna’s legs started to give, she felt a pair of arms grab her. She watched Ivy shrug and walk into the house. Delirious, Anna turned to the young woman at her side. “I’m sorry about the smell,” Anna said. “I think I’m about to faint. Your hair is so red.” Anna slid into unconsciousness.

  “It’s okay. We’ve got you,” the young woman assured her.

  The two young men propped Anna up between them. “Lara, can we help her?” James looked to the young woman.

  “She’s probably just exhausted,” Lara answered. “Let’s get her inside and into bed. I’m sure she needs rest more than anything.”

  “Is she injured?” asked Daniel as they carried Anna up the stairs.

  “No,” James said. “She seemed . . .” He paused, thinking of the right word. “Lost.”

  The King flew out of the Keep, his guards marching behind him with heavy, syncopated steps. He took in the scene, the massive stone Tower now reduced to smoking ruins, his eyes burning with fury. Charred pieces of chain mail were scattered, still smoldering, evidence that members of his Guard had been killed. Had Anna burned along with them?

  He walked the perimeter of the fallen Tower, his thoughts racing. This could be the act of Marco returned from the dead, or perhaps the girl had inherited his gifts after all. Maybe an enemy from afar had felled the Tower while they slept.

  But there was no foreign attacker pounding at their gates. They were not under siege. This attack had been focused and singular.

  The King whipped around, eyeing the throngs of peasants and members of court who had gathered. They looked to the ground to avoid the wrath of his gaze. His subjects followed his rules, and in return, he fed, clothed, housed, and gave them humble occupations. It was a regimented life, but a stable one.

  “Who saw what happened here this morning?” he shouted.

  The Fool and the Hermit were hidden among the crowd, each holding his breath, while the King’s question hung in the air. Anyone could have seen them leave the Tower, but no one spoke. Drake pressed his shoulder close to the Fool. He wished he could openly take his hand, but the relationship that existed between them was punishable by death. To outsiders—the Hermit, the Magician, and Anna the exceptions—they were simply the best of friends.

  “No one?” the King asked again. He clasped his jeweled fingers together and brought them to his chin. “We’ll see about that,” he said to himself. At that moment Senator Bassett came running through the mob. He was still in his sleep clothes, and his thin black hair stuck out in all directions as he raced toward the King.

  The Senator surveyed the scene before them, his eyes widening. “I . . . I . . .” he stammered.

  “You what?” the King snapped.

  “I ordered my Guard to keep watch at dawn, Your Majesty. The execution was set for this—”

  The King held up his hand. “I want every person in this kingdom questioned. Find out what happened here,” he boomed. “And find the girl.”

  The Senator nodded, but his eyes were filled with doubt. “I will open a full investigation, Sire.” He hesitated, afraid to say more.

  “You suspect magic,” the King guessed.

  “We must consider it, Sire.”

  The King felt a thin tug of dread. He looked back out at the people of his kingdom, only now processing their looks of fear and confusion.

  “Look at them. They’re terrified,” the King said. “They need to know we have this in hand.” The Senator nodded again and stepped back.

  The King walked toward the crowd, his Guard moving with him seamlessly, their steps beating in unison, swords flashing at their sides. He wasn’t sure how he would explain the accident.

  But that was what it meant to be a king. To give the appearance of being in control at all times, no matter what the circumstance. He had learned this from his father and his father before him—each of them distant
father figures to the people of this land. The men on the throne were duty bound to keep the people from harm and respond to their grievances. The common man was a sheep, the King his shepherd. That was the way it was and the way it must always be.

  “Something evil has transpired here today. . . .” he began. The people responded to his deep voice and looming presence, their eyes suddenly riveted on the King’s face. “But we do not tolerate evil in this kingdom. We never have, and we never will.” He raised his arms as if embracing them, and he let his words settle over the crowd.

  The Fool, watching from the back, felt a familiar warmth stir in his chest. He didn’t have a father, and the King’s presence had always made him feel safe.

  The Fool felt torn between his love for Anna and his loyalty to the King. Ultimately, his love for her had won, but it was not without cost to his heart.

  The Hermit looked on from beside the Fool, feeling less emotionally conflicted, and wondering instead how the King was going to explain the Tower’s destruction to his people.

  “I will find out who or what did this, and they will be punished severely. They will wish for death when I am through with them. I will make an example of them, and when I am done, no one will ever dare threaten this kingdom again.”

  The Hermit felt his composure slip away. The King’s threats toward Anna made his stomach churn with worry.

  The King walked back to the Keep among a chorus of cheering, but the sound meant nothing to him. He was consumed with the idea that he might have made a fatal error in not keeping his promise to the girl. Maybe if he had let her go, treated her with greater care, even love, the Tower would still be standing. Anna was alive. He could feel that in his bones. She was alive, and he had just committed to publicly torturing her when he found her.

 

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