“It’s not her fault,” Mykel said.
Mr. Tibbins returned to using the straight bar, having trouble with the timbers.
“Is Lina here?” Mykel asked.
“With her mother. Next door.” He pointed to a cottage on the same side of the street.
So, they didn’t take all the kids. There was hope.
Mykel walked the short distance to the cottage, then stopped on the front step and knocked. It was more like a storage shed, with the door half-falling off its hinges and many openings in the weathered wood where air would leak in. A makeshift home for a family with nothing else.
The door creaked inward, and the face of a very sad woman met them.
“Mrs. Tibbins,” Nara said, “we are looking for Sammy. Mr. Tibbins said Lina was here, and we were hoping—”
A young face suddenly peered out at them from behind the woman’s legs. Lina. Recognition dawned in the girl’s eyes. “Mykel! Nara!” She darted out to grab Nara's hand, then gave her a hug. A moment later, still holding Nara’s hand, she turned to her mother.
“Mom, can they come in?”
Mrs. Tibbins said nothing, instead just opening the door further so they could enter. As they did, Nara saw three bedrolls on the floor. Lina had two brothers and a sister, so there should have been six. Lina sat on a bedroll, pulling Nara with her and directing her to do the same. Mykel remained standing.
“Where is Sammy?” Mykel asked.
“Um, they took most of the kids away,” she said, still holding Nara’s hand. “A few of us were hiding, and they didn’t find us.”
“Who took them?”
“Soldiers. With swords and armor. Some in robes.”
“Did they take Sammy too?” Mykel asked.
Lina averted her eyes from Mykel and let go of Nara. “I don’t think so.”
Nara didn’t want to hear what came next.
“Tell me,” Mykel said.
Lina sighed, fidgeting with her fingers. “I was hiding under the porch of the old Carsten house. You know, the broken-down house on the hill above the church? Sam and I play there a lot, and you can see a lot of the town from there.”
“Go on,” he said.
“They gathered all the kids, and many grownups, in front of the stage. Down by the church. They said we were in trouble. They would make us pay.” She looked at Nara. “Pay for you. They were mad at you, Nara. They called you a demon. But I don’t think so. Really.”
Lina swallowed, pausing, her eyes growing soft, reluctant to continue. She turned to Mrs. Tibbins, who said nothing but nodded, urging Lina on.
“Sammy and Simon were up front,” Lina said, looking again at Mykel. “Standing near the stage. I couldn’t see well, but I know they were both there.”
“What happened?” Mykel asked.
“They took one of them—I’m not sure which—up onto the stage.” Lina choked up, tears flowing. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”
Nara put a hand on Lina’s knee. “Keep going.”
Lina wiped her eyes on her sleeves and tried to continue but couldn’t.
Nara turned to Mrs. Tibbins. Her face was wet with tears.
“They killed one of the boys,” she said. “Sucked the life right out of him. To fill the ceppit. Punishment, they told us. To break our hearts or something. Lina saw it all. Mr. Tibbins and I were foraging near the creek, so we missed it. Heard it all from Lina when we got back. They announced some adults and took the children. All they could find. Most of the kids are gone. And they killed many of the adults. The Tinnys. Abel and Meera Trinck. Bran Fedgewick.” Mrs. Tibbins sobbed. “Bran used to live just a few doors down. Helped with the house sometimes, when Mr. Tibbins was away on fishing trips. We would have them over for dinner.” She cried again and Nara found herself crying along with her.
“Where are the bodies?” Mykel asked. “The ones they killed.”
Mrs. Tibbins wiped her eyes. “Post office building.”
Mykel left without another word and Nara was close behind. It was a short walk, filled with anticipation and dread. When they got there, Mykel dropped the staff and tore open the front doors of the half-burned building, sending them flying back so fast, Nara had to move to avoid being hit. He tossed aside burned timbers like toothpicks at first but slowed as he got closer to the buried pile of bodies.
The familiar smell of charred corpses hung in the air, triggering dark images of the villages they’d seen in a similar state. But this was Dimmitt. Their home. A numbness started in Nara’s legs, then moved up to her torso, a dead blanket over her heart. She was not ready for what was coming next.
It didn’t take long for Mykel to find a little boy in the pile. He held the body close as he carried it to the street before setting it down. Several people came by, but they kept their distance. With the way they abandoned these bodies in the post office, unburied and ignored, there didn’t seem to be much courage left in Dimmitt. Kayna had broken the spirit of this town.
Mykel was on his knees, looking down at the dead child. It didn’t look like Sammy. Or like Simon. It almost didn’t look like a human being at all. Blackened, twisted. Part of the fabric on the pants was unburned. Perhaps a body had covered it, protecting the garment from fire. With hesitation, Mykel reached inside each of the front trouser pockets.
He seemed to find something, and as he pulled it out, recognition turned Mykel’s face to horror. He collapsed on the body, sobs racking his large frame. “No, no, no, Sammy.” His voice was weak, broken, grieving beyond imagination. “I wasn’t here. I wasn’t here.”
In Mykel’s hand was a piece of string, partially burned by fire. A snare. Attached to the string was a round trigger.
Nara collapsed on Mykel, holding him as he cried, joining in the grief. Just a little boy. A darling boy. He was good, kind, and hardworking. Memories of his smile came back to her. His laugh. The way his long black bangs always got in his eyes. The way he scratched his chin when someone teased him.
And now he was gone. It was too much to bear.
Nara cried for both Sammy and Mykel—and for her own guilt in allowing this horror to come to pass. They should have run the whole way from Took. Saving the children, taking the detour to Keetna—it had taken too long, and the delay made all the difference. She should have heeded the vision, running nonstop from the moment she’d seen it. Sammy was dead because of her. Because she tried to help others and did not heed Mykel’s warnings.
They cried for a long time, and when there were no more tears, Mykel gathered up his brother’s body and carried it home. He set it on the ground next to his father’s grave and retrieved a shovel from the shed.
It didn’t take Mykel long to dig the grave and put the body inside. Nara tried to say something, anything, but her tongue was as heavy as her heart. She could barely bring herself to even look at Mykel. Eventually, Mykel covered Sammy’s corpse with dirt and sat still again.
They sat on the ground next to the graves for hours, and nobody came by to offer condolences. The remaining villagers had their own suffering to occupy them.
Mykel did nothing but sit near the graves, a faraway look in his eyes. Eventually, numb in both her body and her mind, Nara found her way into the cottage and lay down on a cot, begging for peace from this nightmare. As she lay there, something changed inside her heart. Or maybe something broke. Who she thought she was, or maybe how she saw the world around her. Her faith had been based on the idea that Dei guided things, operated the world in a way that was, in the end, fair. Just. She believed if she did the right things, followed the rules, and was kind to people, it would all work out. She was wrong. About everything. And the price for her foolishness was being paid by others.
I tried to do the right thing, Dei, she prayed. Tried to be the help that you send to the Great Land. No matter what I do, I find nothing but destruction. Now this? Sammy? You break our hearts. You should heal, but instead, You hurt. You should save us but instead bring pain. You aren’t Dei. You aren’t a God o
f love and salvation. You are Kai. You allow death and pain. You allow evil.
The anger and sorrow welled up inside her, bursting with fury and hopelessness. Images from the announcement ceremony flooded her mind, the ambush that almost killed Mykel, the battle on the plateau, the confrontation at Fairmont Castle, and now the murder of an innocent boy. It was too much.
And I am done with you.
9
Last Looks
Anne checked her pack one last time, fingers searching until they found the cool bone handle of her ceppit. She hoped that she wouldn’t need it.
She filled a wooden bowl with imbued ink from a pool, then walked across the cavern and down the tunnel that led to the exit. Arriving at the door, she turned carefully, holding the bowl gingerly in one hand as she stepped to the water rune, tracing the design with an inked finger. Rushing water preceded a grinding sound as stone slid on stone.
As the cavern sealed shut, she retrieved two vials from her pack and filled them with the remainder of the bowl’s ink. After replacing the stoppers, she dropped the vials into her pocket, hearing a clinking sound as one bumped the engraver she’d placed there earlier. She patted her pocket. Ready to go at last.
As she tucked the bowl into her pack, she thought about Gwyn. Two weeks had passed since she’d sent the watcher west. “To find a certain boy,” Anne told her. “You’ll know him when you see him. He’ll get into some trouble. Save him, then I’ll find you.”
Gwyn had not argued, nor asked for direction beyond that, knowing that none would be given. She was trusting, that one. Or obedient. There was little difference between the two.
“How long before the babes come back?” she asked the sky.
They were the first words she had spoken since Nara and Mykel left two days before. Intending to go only on a long run, they were now caught up in their story again, and Anne would not see them for a while. Her ability to see their next steps was clouded. An unusual thing.
“You’re not showing me much, lately,” she said to the empty wood. Aided by her walking stick, she worked through the birch and spruce trees that swayed in the afternoon breeze. “Found someone else to do your work?”
As was often the case, no answer came. No matter. She was finally playing the role she’d waited for, and there was peace in it, even without knowing what exactly came next.
Making her way to the top of the plateau, her gaze rested on Eastway. She had not attended to the abbey grounds for months and never said goodbye. A monk had likely visited in early winter, but she had been in the cavern with the others and the tiny cabin was boarded up. They likely thought she had abandoned them. In truth, hadn’t she done exactly that? She turned to the northwest, to Fairmont. The Twins stood proud, one a peaked mountain, the other a plateau, both disappearing into the cloud cover above. She adjusted her backpack and took a few steps but then stopped, turning to look about. Cold rocks and sticks scattered the area, and the birch trees atop the flat rise had not yet responded to nature’s command to produce new leaves. No squirrels danced about their bare branches, and the wind whistled through the sleeping sentinels unnoticed by living things. Unnoticed by any except her. But Anne was leaving, and these trees, this plateau, and the cabin below would be lonely. She lingered a moment, reluctant to say goodbye. For many years she had spent time here, praying, thinking, sometimes even sleeping. But that was over, and this was her last look.
She harrumphed at her melancholy and turned again to the west. Nara had run off with little training. She knew many runes but was skilled with few. She had missed a critical lesson and, without it, she would find no victory. But there was another way to deliver it, a way prepared long ago. Anne started down the plateau, avoiding rocks on the path to prevent injury.
She looked up to the sky. “To Veneti,” she said. “I go where You send me.”
But He didn’t answer.
10
Caged
Sammy didn’t like being at the bottom of the boat. It was dark, and he didn’t like the dark. Not at all. Sometimes they opened the door above, and when light came down the stairs, he could see the faces of the others who were with him, huddling together to stay warm. The air was wet and cold, though. That was almost as bad as the dark.
When the kids first came into the boat, a soldier gave them blankets, but there weren’t enough to go around. Sammy wanted a blanket for himself, but there were smaller kids who needed them more, so he shivered alone. After a while of shivering, someone came over and sat next to him with her blanket. He couldn’t see her face in the dark but was pretty sure it was Serah Willy. She always smelled like onions, and her voice was very soft.
“Are you cold?” she asked in a soft, oniony voice. Definitely Serah. He wondered how she knew it was him. She couldn’t see him either, but maybe he smelled like something too. Or maybe she had seen him when they opened the door. He hoped that was it.
“I’m fine.”
She moved her blanket to cover his legs, then leaned against him. She was warm, and it felt nice.
“Where are they taking us?” Serah asked.
“Dunno.”
“I’m scared.”
Sammy was also scared, but wouldn’t say it. Not in front of a girl, anyway. He wasn’t the oldest boy here. That was Clive Anders, thirteen and sitting alone with his very own blanket. But Sammy was older than most of them and would be brave for them, even if he was just pretending.
“We’ll be okay. They won’t hurt kids.”
“They killed Simon.”
That was true. Sammy had tried to put that out of his mind, but it came back now, and his eyes tried to cry. Sammy scrunched up his forehead, but a tear came out, anyway. At least it was dark and Serah couldn’t see. She wiggled around, then leaned on Sammy, putting her head on his shoulder.
“Why did they take us?” she asked.
Did Serah think Sammy knew these things? After a while, she fell asleep. He could tell because she stopped moving around, and her breathing got slow.
But Sammy couldn’t sleep. He kept thinking of Pop, and how he fought the soldiers. He thought about the post office on fire, and the screaming. He thought about Simon but stopped because it would make him cry again. Crying was for babies and he would be brave. At least until Mykel could save him.
But Mykel was gone and had been for a long time. And Mykel couldn’t save him because he didn’t know they were on a boat. Even if Mykel came home to Dimmitt, he wouldn’t know where the soldiers took Sammy and wouldn’t be able to find him at all.
He scrunched up his eyes again, but he couldn’t stop the tears this time. Lots of them came rolling down his cheeks. He leaned his head against Serah’s and let the tears flow.
A long time passed on the boat before the men opened the door at the top of the stairs and let Sammy and the other kids out. Sammy waited behind, shielding his eyes from the daylight with his hands.
The deep voice of a soldier yelling made Sammy move, and he walked up the steps behind the other kids. They walked in a line to the edge of the boat near a big plank. The plank had little wood strips you put your feet on so you wouldn’t slip on the wet wood, but Serah slipped anyway and almost fell.
They stood on the dock for a while before two wagons arrived. Wagons with cages. The soldiers forced them into the cages, then put a lock on the outside. The wagon ride was long, and it rained sometimes. They were given wet biscuits and they huddled together because the sun didn’t keep them very warm. Sometimes, they stopped to pee, but the soldiers yelled a lot because the kids didn’t move very fast. At night, they stopped in the middle of the road and the soldiers slept in shifts, but the kids stayed in the cages. It was mean to put kids in cages. He remembered what the man in black robes said about punishment, but the kids had done nothing wrong, and they shouldn’t be punished.
After several days on the road, Sammy saw hills. Another day and he saw mountains, big ones, way bigger than Dimmitt’s, and with snow all over the top. It was even cold
er in the mountains, but it was beautiful, too.
When the wagons stopped for good, it had been many days, maybe ten or twelve or more. The kids all got out, and when he walked, Sammy’s legs hurt. His back hurt too.
“Follow me,” one soldier said. He was a short soldier, but still taller than most of the kids. He led them into a big red brick building, with every brick lined up perfectly. Even cold, scared, and with sore legs, Sammy could appreciate those bricks. Maybe he would be a bricklayer when he grew up.
Inside the building was another cage, big enough for all the kids. There were pillows inside, enough for every kid to have one. Some kids ran to pick the best pillow they could. Sammy grabbed one as well, hugging it tightly. Then he wrapped himself in his wet blanket and closed his eyes, pretending he was home in Dimmitt.
11
Graveyard
Nara heard a sound and opened her eyes to see Mykel enter the cottage. His eyes were dry, and he carried purpose in his posture as he stopped in the middle of the room.
She rose from the cot and went over to him. “You okay?” she asked.
“We need to bury the rest.”
“Where?”
“A new graveyard. Near town.”
“Easy to visit. So nobody forgets.”
“Yes.”
Mykel decided on a clearing several hundred yards to the west of town, a flat piece of land on higher terrain. Nara stood at the edge of the area, overlooking the southern Dimmitt coast from atop the small cliff. Waves crashed on rocks below and she squinted, barely able to make out the large island to the south where one would find the Village of Fulsk. Dimmitt felt so different now, and it wasn’t just because of the murders or losing Sammy. The last time she stood here, she was a silly girl with no idea what her future would hold, ignorant to the darkness that was coming for her.
Finding Kai Page 7