Despite the fears, she managed to get home, though it was much later than she’d hoped. The group that she was supposed to have traveled with caught up with her on the trail and dropped her off at her house, but the damage to her hands was already done.
She set the bucket down on the steps leading to her cabin, touching the raw blisters and cuts at the base of each finger, barely able to clench a fist without the feeling of her bones stretching.
The winter was sharp and nearly painful, though the air was still. The moon was nearly full, and the planes looked gloomy and blue. Eva wanted first to apologize to her mother, and then warn her of the Raiders who were now nearby. Pulling the arched metal handle on the door, the warmth of the fire met her, washing off the cold from outside.
At the kitchen table sat her mother, sobbing. Maria glanced back, tears and wrinkles clouding her face, then she hid her face in her hands, crying.
Eva lifted the water a few more steps, resting it by the door. Rubbing the blisters on her hands, she sat at the table, concerned. “What is it, Mother?” she asked with no remnant of the day’s frustrations.
Sniveling with her elbows on the table and hiding something between her arms, Maria wiped away the tears that did not stop flowing. “The gods must hate me.”
The fire snapped behind them, furiously fighting off the cold of winter, a battle that it would inevitably lose. Eva caressed her mother’s shoulder lightly, with an unfamiliar touch, never having heard her mother speak so badly about gods. “Who could hate my mother?” Eva asked, pushing a smile on her face, still waiting for the heart of the matter.
“Only those who know my soul,” Maria sobbed. “My husband is gone, my son left me, and I have put my daughter in danger, the one whom I swore with my hand to my liver that I would forever protect.”
Eva touched the silver pendant of the eagle on her neck. Remembering her father made the tarnished medallion feel cold against her chest. She swirled it between her fingers, wanting to remove her mother’s heaviness.
“We all do things that we regret, Mother.” She offered her mother encouragement that she expected to be as refreshing as hot tea on a frigid evening, but they became as disgusting as milk that had been left out in the heat of the summer sun for three days, good for nothing, sour, and repulsive.
“Yet only a few of us do things that we cannot unfix.”
Eva sat quietly, rubbing her mother’s shoulders, watching the unknown item between Maria’s elbows.
“I know you want to know,” Maria said, weakly passing Eva the item.
Not disagreeing, Eva took what she realized was a letter that had been neatly creased and inserted into an envelope, sealed by red wax, though Maria had already broken the seal. Turning the envelope over, she saw her mother’s name on the front, and she removed the insert.
Before she opened it, she stared at the creased note, fire crackling nearby. What if the message on this page tells me that Edward has been killed? The joints in her fingers loosened, and the desire to comfort her mother faded. Who was going to comfort Eva if her brother had been murdered?
She wanted to set the letter down on the table and not read it, but what would Maria think? Would she feel that Eva didn’t care about her? Thoughts sprouted like weeds from Eva’s mind, all from the seed of fear of the contents of the message.
Opening the dull yellow paper, she saw jagged handwriting – not jagged like the writer had been in a rush, but as if he were untrained in scripting. Her eyes scanned the letter, reading nothing but searching for “Edward.”
Not seeing the name that she begged to the gods was not there, she mumbled over the note, speaking some words aloud, but muttering over a few others, and then she saw that it was signed by Tyel Fandey.
Eva exhaled softly, glad it was not about Edward, and a moment passed before the significance of the note hit her. It was a love letter, written from Tyel to Maria. Tyel wanted to tell Maria how much he cared about her, but he was waiting for Maria to be ready to move on.
How could I have been so selfish? Eva had only thought of her own pain, not of her mother’s. How much pain had her mother been locking in the cellar of her heart all these long months since Tyel’s death, and how long had she had this note? But no, all Eva cared about was her own inability to handle the news of Edward’s death. She hated herself for being so self-centered. “Mother, I’m sorry,” she said unexpectedly.
“What have you to be sorry for?” Maria asked bluntly, wiping her leaking nose with the bank of her weathered hand.
“For leaving. For acting like a child. For everything.” She had been acting like a child, begging for a treat, not understanding that her supper would be spoiled. Maria had wanted the best for her, and Eva had still wanted more.
“Darling,” Maria said, touching the side of Eva’s curly hair. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”
Selfishly, Eva expected her mother to comfort her more, but Maria didn’t. Instead, Maria locked her fingers together on the table, and Eva commenced to beat herself up again for expecting more from her mother than Maria was able to give.
“You really cared about him, didn’t you? Tyel, I mean?” She clarified that she meant Tyel, more for herself since she had been thinking about Edward.
Maria nodded, sniffing. “Tyel took care of us after your father died, and I never asked him to. At first I thought that he was sick, hoping to take advantage of a widow fresh in her grief, but after a while, I realized that he was different. He didn’t want me—”
“That’s not what this letter says,” Eva blurted out softly.
Shaking her head, Maria continued, “He didn’t want me to fall for him. He just wanted to help, and after a few years…I caught feelings for him. At first I thought it was wrong, since I still loved your father, but I was finally beginning to warm up to Tyel…and then this happened.”
“How long did you have the letter?” Eva asked cautiously.
“Ever since that day. The people in the town knew that he was sweet on me, so they let me go through his things first, since he didn’t have a family. All I took was the letter. I didn’t have the heart to read it until tonight, but I now know that I still lack the strength for a message so heavy.”
Eva sat back, pushing her hair behind her ear, knowing that she had come home intending to tell her mother two things. She had done the one thing, which was to apologize, but the second, which was to tell her about the Raiders, she did not do. She lacked the strength for a message so heavy.
CHAPTER 7
THE SEVERANCE
Two weeks passed, and Eva had warned her mother about the Raiders, but Maria seemed unfazed, telling Eva that the Raiders had come to the territory of the Green Planes many times before, and this time would be no different. However, Eva could not swallow that empty hope.
The evening had come, and the fire smacked the bottom of the cast iron pot, heating the last bit of water that they had gathered from the Water Walkers two weeks before. Neither of them mentioned the known truth that another water trip would have to be made within a few days, and there was no way that anyone of the other townspeople would share theirs, especially since it was said that the Raiders were roaming as close as the eastern edge of the woods, the last she’d heard.
Eva sat at the kitchen table, nervous, as if waiting for a storm to pass, though it was only drawing closer. “Do you think that they’ll come to us, Mother?”
“Hush, child,” Maria replied, voice shaking.
She had called Eva a child again, but Eva didn’t address it due to the more pressing matters. “I think I deserve to know. It’s me they want.”
“It’s possible.”
Eva gasped on the inside. She knew that it was possible, but hearing it from her mother cut into her. She tried to push the thoughts out of her mind, telling herself that she was dead, but the deep rumble of the fire reminded her that she was alive, and its heat was not enough to keep her calm.
“Can we put the fire out, Mother
?”
Maria gave no reply, only swift nods of her head as she pushed herself away from the table. Picking up the towels off the shelf near the fireplace, she grabbed the hot handle of the iron pot and set it on a metal ring near Eva’s bedroom to keep the heat off the floor. She scooped up a few of the vegetables into bowls for both of them, and then she dumped the remaining water on the flame.
The fire spat and hissed. Ashes puffed out from the water that spilled onto the charred wood, coating the air in a thick cloud, though a few embers lodged at the base of the fire, huddled next to one another, snarling and popping.
Maria brushed the ashes off her stale-blood colored dress and sat back down. Eva stared at her bowl of soup in the darkness, knowing that the fear in her belly had left no room for food.
“Have you ever seen the Raiders before?” Eva asked, twirling her unused spoon between her fingers.
“No, and I pray to the gods everyday that I might never.”
“They seemed to have listened so far,” Eva said, trying to fit into the snug dress of her mother’s faith.
“Indeed, but I fear that today their ears might have been clogged.”
“Don’t talk like that, Mother. You’re scaring me.”
Maria grabbed her daughter’s hand, pulling faintly. “We should leave.”
Glued to the seat, Eva couldn’t move. What if the Raiders weren’t coming, or what if they left and ran into the Raiders on the way? Before Eva could choose, Maria jerked her arm nearly out of its socket.
“Let’s go!” Maria said in a violent whisper.
Eva sprang to her feet and grabbed her coat from the door, following closely behind her mother. The door swung open, and the cold night assaulted them.
Peering through the threshold and looking to the east in the direction of the Vice, Eva nearly lost her spirit. Torches drifted through the night, galloping on the back of horses, held by men whose armor clinked together with each stride. Leading them, face covered with a metal helmet that knocked away the rays of the moonlight and reflected them across the planes, rode the Dark Queen.
Before Eva’s eyes devoured anymore of the riders, Maria shoved her daughter back inside, forcing Eva to the ground. Eva banged her head against the wood, and the pain bounced forward, chattering her teeth as the door slammed behind them.
“Into to the cellar, child!”
Eva flipped to her stomach, scrambled through the ashes, and tapped the baseboard with her foot in the darkness, listening for the hallow sound of the cellar. Without thinking, she dug her fingers into the floor and split the nail on her long finger, sending a pain shooting up her forearm.
Fumbling around, she found the notch in the floor, swung open the hatch, and dropped inside. The smell of spices and coffee blended with dank mugginess and fear, nearly making Eva vomit. Her head swirled, but she regained her senses, grabbing the rope on the hatch to pull it halfway closed, beckoning for her mother to join her. “Come, Mother, now!” yelled a wide-eyed Eva to Maria who was crawling on all fours to the cellar.
The voice of a woman from outside, the sound of which was captured by the helmet, spewed venomous orders to her subordinates. “Drag the wench out into the street!”
The wench? Had they seen Mother? The thought vanished from her. “Mother, now!” Eva waved frantically.
Maria crawled, hunched over, to the cellar, caught eyes with her daughter, and did not move. Tiny rays of moonlight burst through the cracks in the cabin between the logs, shining on flecks of dust and ash that floated around helplessly. A beam of light touched Maria's face and followed a lonely tear down the side of her cheek. “Eva, I love you.”
What is she doing? Before the thought finished in Eva’s head, the bell of reality rang painfully. “Mother, no!” Eva pulled at Maria, tugging her into the cellar, tears now streaming down Eva's face. “Don't leave me, please!”
The pain of fifteen years of rebellion swooped down on her. All the disobediences and all the bad-mouthing now came to this moment, the moment that her mother had chosen to leave her.
Wiping away the tears and ignoring her daughter’s pleas, Maria said, “Listen to me. Be strong. Close the cellar, or I will have given my life in vain.”
“Mother!” Eva yelled, nearly forgetting about the Raiders and speaking too loudly.
Maria mouthed “I love you” to her daughter, picked herself off the floor, and went to face the Raiders.
The cellar shut, and Eva dropped to her knees in the darkness, sobbing silently. She felt weak. She could go and save her mother, but she knew better. The Raiders were hunting for the Girl with the Scar, and both she and her mother would have been slaughtered, which wouldn’t have been so bad, and Eva would have gladly accepted death, except her mother had not allowed it.
A man with a deep and scratchy voice, grumbly like a rusted chain dragging over a wooden floor, questioned Eva’s mother. “What is your name, wench?”
Eva could hear the conversation through the walls, and she prayed to the gods that her mother would be spared.
“Maria. Maria Solace.” It was the same tender voice that had soothed Eva to sleep for years, the one that had called Eva out of her room to discipline her, and the one that had once called her a woman.
“You hiding any contraband, Maria Solace?” asked the rusty voiced man.
“None at all, sir. It’s only me here, passing out my wretched old days.”
Firelight from the torch sprayed through the cracks of the hatch as the soldier moved his torch around, glancing through the house. “Since there’s none at all, as you say, then perhaps you wouldn’t mind if I looked around.”
Maria didn’t respond. Eva felt herself anticipating her mother to speak before the Raiders became suspicious.
“If that would bring comfort to you, but you won’t find anything, not in here anyway.” Maria had somehow regained her wits. Perhaps the gods’ ears were unclogged now, and they had granted Maria back her confidence.
The soldier stepped inside, his metal boots jingling as he took solid proprietary steps against the wood-planked floor. He hiked to the kitchen and then turned right to the bedrooms. Edward’s was empty. Eva’s was not.
At that moment, Eva could have choked. She could have gotten her things out of her room two weeks ago when she heard that the Raiders were coming. She could have swept her floor last night. She could have made her bed that morning. If only she could slip past the soldier and complete her chores without him knowing.
“Is this your room, Maria Solace?” the Raider asked, mocking.
Would her mother choose honesty or the lie? When Eva had chosen honestly, it had done well for her, but only the impossible would have done well for her mother here.
“This room belongs to my son who's gone hunting for the night. He won’t be back for perhaps another three days.”
The soldier took a few more heavy steps in front of Eva’s room, waving the torch around. Eva remained kneeled in the cellar, holding her stomach, keeping down the retches.
The guard stepped into Eva’s room and slid open one of the drawers. The grinding sound of the wood vibrated through the house. “Your boy wears dresses?” he laughed.
Maria kept quiet.
“Maria Solace, you wench!” A heavy slap smacked across her face, and her body banged against the chairs, jolting them across the floor as she fell to the ground.
Eva jerked from the hit, covering her mouth with both hands, wanting to cry out.
“In here!” the rusty voice called out.
Maria brought herself to her feet, her soft footsteps backing up to the fireplace. Metal footsteps clanked against the planks overhead as the Raiders flooded the kitchen. Maria screamed, and Eva felt it in her belly. Chairs clashed against the floor, and the sound of shredding blankets and pillows tore into Eva’s chest.
She couldn’t bare to let her mother endure this alone. Reaching up, she touched the hatch with her fingertips, waiting for the moment to spring out, but her mother’s words
kept Eva buried within the cellar. She lowered her hand back into her lap, clenching her stomach.
The Dark Queen’s voice from outside intruded the house. “What seems to be the matter, Dreyshore?”
“The wench lies and says that she lives alone,” replied the rusted voice.
“Then why is she still alive? Kill her.”
The words echoed in Eva’s mind like a voice caught in a bowl. Wanting to scream out, she clamped her lips shut.
The rusty voice answered back sternly. “As you wish, milady.”
“No! Please!” Maria screamed, backing against the wall, her voice her only weapon, though weak and defeated.
A heavy grunt and the sound of a sword scraping against wood in one violent slash sent a rippling chill down Eva’s spine to the tips of her toes. She waited, not breathing, longing for her mother to cry out again. A solid thud hit the ground, and no sounds followed, then another thud.
Eva searched the deepest cavities of her mind, piecing together the sounds. Then the dread caved in on her. Her mother had been beheaded. Whimpering, Eva planted her face in the dirt, crying for her mother and calling out in her soul for safety.
“The house is empty, Commander Dreyshore,” one of the Raiders said.
“Get this woman out of my sight.” Dreyshore stepped over Maria’s body, and his metal footstep hit the ground hard. Taking a few steps, he stood directly over Eva.
She pushed her face deeper in the dirt, breathing in the dust, warring against the sobs and saving her grief for later.
“Dreyshore, we must get moving,” the Dark Queen demanded.
“Yes, milady. Move out!”
The metal boots rumbled overtop Eva’s head as the Raiders leaked out of the door, dragging her mother’s body with them. Dreyshore stepped forward, and tiny specks of dust descended from the planks, collecting in Eva’s hair. She kept her face planted, barely breathing.
His boot hit the floor, and he started towards the door, leaving Eva behind. Before stepping out, his footsteps halted. Eva panicked on the inside. Get out! What are you still doing here?
The Girl with the Scar (Dark Connection Saga Book 1) Page 7