Unwilling (Book One of the Compelled Trilogy 1)

by Kristen Pike

  Rowan reeled, dropping her stick. A scream rose in her throat as her stomach dropped out but when she saw only Chev she relaxed, smiling at her skittishness. Chev half blended in with the night, his dark skin merging with the shadows, the whites of his eyes unusually stark in the night. “Miss who?” She responded though they both knew she was only playing the fool.

  “There is a legend,” Chev said, coming to sit beside her. He stared pensively at the fire, watching the flames lick higher, trying to catch the air with its heated fingers. Rowan held her breath, not probing him, knowing he would speak when he was ready to. Or he would remain silent. “It was many years ago and it says that a rich man once loved a woman so much he left all the luxuries he had to wed her, since his father did not approve, living in a life of poverty, though they were happy together. They lived many happy years together until at last they conceived a child, which they had wanted so terribly. It is said that the wife died in childbirth, but the babe was born healthy and screaming.” He sounded dismal, a bitter expression crossing his features. “But without the mother and without money to pay a wet nurse the babe starved, passing not even a week after the mother.”

  Rowan grabbed up the stick she had dropped and once again poked at the blaze, causing a log to tumble over, sending sparks of red and orange at their shins.

  Chev rubbed the tattoos he had on his arm absentmindedly, staring into the flickering fire as though he could get lost in it. “It is said that the man then became very rich, having so much money he didn’t know what to do with it, hoping that if he became rich enough, he could forget that his wife and child had died because he had been to poor for medicine or milk to save them. He wasted his riches on fine silks and treasures and castles in every land in Varisin, trying to find a way to replace the gaping hole that was in his chest left by his wife and child but…” He trailed off, his brows low over his eyes. But he would have given it all up to have them back. Rowan finished in her thoughts.

  “What happened to him?’ Rowan asked softly.

  “Nothing. Nothing happened to him. He gave up his riches a second time and wandered Varisin, waiting to die and be reunited with his family.”

  “What were their names? The wife and child?” Rowan asked, unsure of why she wanted to know.

  “Camille, and Tara.” Chev answered. “Do you miss him?” Chev asked her a second time.

  “Every day.” Rowan replied instantly. “He’s the only family I have left.”

  Chev studied her a moment then shook his head, as if he did not approve of her answer, as though she had disappointed him. She started to tell him that Elias was not the monster that had murdered the old couple but Chev stood and with a final glance at the fire, disappeared back into the shadows.

  Rowan wondered what she could have said to offend him. He had been talking of Elias, hadn’t he? Rowan’s thoughts were tumultuous, rumbling around inside her head like a storm cloud.

  She reflected on her dream, well nightmare, and wondered if it was really one or the other. Elias, or Jace, and if it really came down to it, was it really a choice at all? Elias was her brother, her blood. He had sat up late telling her stories when she couldn’t sleep, had squeezed her hand when mother came. He killed the spiders that found their way into the house because their many legs frightened her. He had made some mistakes, huge ones. But he WAS the only family she had left.

  And Jace was, well she didn’t really know WHAT Jace was to her. Only that she felt empty now that he was gone, as if the best parts of her had disappeared and she was but a walking shell, hallow, now that he was gone. She felt a deep hole where his presence had once been in her life, more so than perhaps when Elias had abandoned her.

  Rowan left the fire to die and made her way back to her makeshift bed. Her thoughts heavy as she laid down, laying awake for hours, her thoughts jumbled and confused, sleep finally reclaiming her in the wee hours of the morning.

  ҉ ҉ ҉

  The warm sunlight streamed through the branches into her eyes, forcing her awake. Birds trilled and squirrels chased each other up tree trunks, their tiny paws scratching the thick bark. The camp was already vibrant with the sounds of the site being cleared, the men talking and whispering with each other as they finished their breakfasts, or rolled up their blankets.

  Rowan smiled, looking instinctively for Jace before remembering that he was gone and she felt so desperately miserable for a second she thought her heart might stop beating and she would die right there. But she was just being dramatic and when the crushing, suffocating, sadness dulled to a mildly crushing numbness she gathered her things, wrapping her food and clothes in her blankets then wrapping her blankets up in the twine that she always carried to hold her things together. She shouldered her pack, picking her way to where the group had gathered around the now stamped out fire with tiny tendrils of smoke trying to escape the would be forgotten embers.

  The group hushed as she approached; most looked down, their eyes darting between the various types of dirt on the ground. Some looked up, as if trying to see the sky through the dense canopy of branches and thick leaves.

  “What?” Rowan asked, breaking the awkward silence.

  Pickard stepped forward, he cleared his throat, grimaced, but remained silent.

  “What?” Rowan repeated again softer.

  “Well I, we-“ Pickard stuttered, unsure of his words. Rowan wondered what horrible thing they could say to her to make them all flutter so.

  “We want to go back for Jace.” Jonquil threw out, then looked down, hunching his shoulders as if to hide the fact that he had spoken at all.

  “No.” Rowan replied simply, shaking her head. The men went into an uproar then, finding their voices, apparently.

  “I disagree!” Pickard shouted.

  “In my day we-“ Vordis started, his voice wobbling.

  “We can’t just leave him!” Barton yelled, throwing his hands out as if to indicate an absent Jace.

  “-didn’t leave our people.” Vordis finished, nodding his head slowly.

  “Jace wants to be here, anyone can see that!” Jonquil said, looking intently at a tree just to the right of Rowan.

  “We heard you arguing the other night, and you’re wrong.” Pickard said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “You’re foolish for sending him off, Rowan.” He finished quietly, his body going still.

  “Let’s go back and get him!” Mills shouted enthusiastically, the other men’s voices dying so his rang out loudly, a bird shrieked above them and flew off, sending a shower of leaves onto the ground.

  Galamee and Chev were the only ones that remained silent.

  “I can’t do that.” Rowan said softly, lowering her blue eyes. The men looked at her wordlessly, watching the inner struggle within her. Out of the corner of her eye Rowan could see Chev watching her with a curious expression on his face, leaning against a tree and eating an apple, “If you all heard the other night, then you know why I can’t do that.” They studied her, she could tell they all had something to say, but no one spoke.

  They broke apart then, ambling off in different directions, finishing the breakdown of the camp. Rowan pursed her lips, a sour taste in her mouth and an even heavier heart then she thought possible.

  They made good time that day. Hardly any words were exchanged and when they finally stopped, the sun was low, casting various shades of red, orange, and pink across the sky. It made the world look like it danced in wild fire. Rowan looked at it for the longest time, trying to commit the beautiful image to memory. Maybe someday she would ask Elias to paint her a sunset.

  After the fire was built and the meager stew prepared they all sat around the flickering light together. Though things still did not feel normal, they had travelled so far that day and were too tired to hold onto their grudge any longer. They all wordlessly decided to set aside their resentment and enjoy the meal together.

  “The bear was a good six feet tall, black as sin and he was snarling at me,” Pickard was saying
. He was telling the story for the 100th time, though everyone stared at him with rapt attention as if it were his first, “he came at me claws extended, ready to attack, but I stood-“

  “HOW DARE YOU!” A voice boomed in the darkness. A shadow figure emerged from the trees, barreling toward them, full of rage. “HOW DARE YOU!” He yelled again. Rowan stood, shocked, her heart leaping at what she thought had been impossible.

  Rowan smiled like a fool as Jace hurtled to stand in front of her. His hair was a mess, flinging every which way and a twig stuck out of one side. His clothes were filthy, and his pants were torn at the knee on the right side. He had the look of a wild beast skipping in his eyes and he sucked in air as though he had been sprinting, his shirt was soaked in the front from sweat.

  “I tell you I love you and you pack up and leave me the first chance you-“

  Rowan threw her arms around his neck. Pressing herself close to him, a complete impulse, but one that felt so natural, so right, like eating when you were hungry or yawning when you were tired. Jace’s heart hammered in his chest and hers sped up to match it, their hearts dancing together, familiar, like one belonged to the other, two pieces of the same whole.

  Jace stood there stunned for a minute before embracing her, smashing her body to his and burying his head in her throat. She could hardly breathe he was holding her so tight but she hardly cared. She only knew that he had come back and she only realized now that she would do anything it took to never be without him again.

  “How did you find me?” She asked after a while. He pulled back slightly, to stare into her eyes, the fire light twirling across his skin.

  “I’ll always find you.” He said simply, as though her question was ridiculous and she should already know the answer. They gazed at each other and Rowan swore Jace was going to kiss her, she shocked herself to find she wholly wanted him too, but someone cleared their throat and they broke apart, remembering they had an audience.

  “Glad your back.” Pickard said smiling. And a chorus of ‘me too’s’ followed. Rowan and Jace settled down together by the fire, their knees touching, making Rowan blush repeatedly.

  “How did you track us?” Pickard asked as Jace served himself up some of the left over stew.

  “Your all like a thousand horses, trampling everything down, a blind child could have followed you!” Jace exclaimed, swallowing his bite. “Fell down a cliff on my way over here though, don’t worry it wasn’t too bad,” he assured Rowan upon seeing her stricken face. Still Rowan looked him over more intently as he continued. “Thought my head was going to cleave straight off my shoulders I was rolling down it so fast! I would have been here sooner, but I had a hell of a time climbing out of the damned thing.” He laughed and Rowan thought it was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard, making her feel light and she was surprised to find that she was still smiling.

  Jace and the others talked well into the night, leaving Rowan utterly exhausted by the time Jace and her were finally left alone by the fire. “I’m glad you’re back too.” Rowan said awkwardly, embarrassment filling her at how she had reacted to him earlier. Proper young women do not go around hugging young men like that.

  “Don’t ever leave me like that again.” He said cogently, his tone leaving little room for Rowan to protest even if she had wanted to. Which she didn’t. He did not sound angry, maybe a little hurt, but it seemed he was more making a request to her than anything else.

  Rowans eyes darkened a shade. “Okay.” She accepted, I’d be willing to chop off my own legs before subjecting myself to that devastating sorrow again. “Well, I think I’m going to retire, it’s been a long day and I’m sure we could both use some rest.” She stood and Jace stood with her.

  As they walked Rowan noticed he had no blankets of his own. “Would you like some of my blankets?” Rowan offered.

  “No I’m fine. Thank you though.” He smiled at her.

  “Don’t be stubborn Jace, I have plenty.” Rowan said, stopping by her pallet. He looked as if he disagreed, but she saw the exhaustion in him win out.

  “Thank you.” Jace said gratefully as Rowan handed him a few blankets. He made his pallet relatively close to hers, still a good five feet away though. Rowan was dissatisfied by the distance but thought it was for the better, lest she doing something, unpredictable, in the night. Like crawl into his covers and kiss him, she thought and blushed though no one else could hear her thoughts.

  Just before she drifted off Rowan swore she heard Jace say he loved her, but she was half-asleep and could not be certain.

  That night she slept dreamlessly.

  FIFTEEN

  TWO WEEKS AGO- JULY

  “I don’t know if I can hear another one.” Rowan sighed, squatting on the ground.

  “We don’t have to go, we could just stay in the woods and stop looking.” Jace responded, leaning against a tree. Sun streamed through the canopy and illuminated his face, making him look otherworldly.

  “I can’t do that.” Rowan answered. But God’s I want to, she thought bitterly. Jace said nothing as Rowan stood, rubbing her eyes in frustration.

  Elias was everywhere and nowhere at the same time and Rowan found that they just kept going in large circles, backtracking to places they had already been and she was growing more frustrated with each wasted day. She would track down a lead, only to get there and find the village burnt to the ground, charcoaled bodies lay strewn about the dirt roads as if they were merely rocks. Or stumble upon a cottage or cabin, the inhabitants disappeared completely, or worse yet, brutally murdered.

  At one site, set back in the woods, they had found a hand sticking straight up through dirt just outside the front door of the cabin, as though the person beneath it had been buried alive and they were just able to reach up through the mound of earth before they asphyxiated.

  “The trees are growing thin.” Rowan observed, placing her palm against a smooth tan tree. As they drew closer to Daria, the Shining Capital of Lamarina, held in the east, they found that the outlining areas were really nothing but one large town, melted together with practically invisible borders. The forest was growing thinner, the trees smaller. Rowan noticed there were fewer animals and even though there was still many miles of forest left between their group and Daria, Rowan could not help but feel trepidation for when the trees finally ran out, as if she would be exposed.

  The towns and villages they came to were still spread far apart, though Rowan did know they were getting closer together the nearer they got to the capital. The people in the towns were often too afraid to talk to Rowan; the last town they had passed an old couple had been kind enough to let Rowan and her accompaniment stay in their home. When they found out Elias was Rowan’s brother however, the couple threw them all out the door, saying they would not play host to the devil or his kin.

  The stories grew worse and worse as they went, to the point Rowan dreaded finding any sort of civilization at all. If the people were not being downright hostile toward her, they were telling her the worse sorts of tales she could possibly imagine.

  In one community called Fredeal, where everyone walked around with no shoes and would gather at night to sing sorrowful songs with their hands clasped together in a wide circle, Rowan and Jace had stumbled upon a young woman in the Market. She was swollen with pregnancy and waddled more than walked. She had long brown hair and soft chocolate colored eyes.

  “He’s a dark haired blue eyed devil that man.” She had whispered to Rowan and Jace, leaning close to them, eyeing the people that passed. “He came here not too long ago, carried a big old sword he did. He began stabbing people, this cold look in his eyes. Bodies piled up all over they did.” The woman had shuddered, her eyes darting to the dirt ground beneath them, as though she could still see the blood and bodies from Elias’s visit. “Took us days to clean them all up, my poor husband was gone from dawn till dusk. Hasn’t been the same since then.” She wandered off then, lost in thought about her husband who hadn’t been the same si
nce Elias had come to visit. Rowan tried to imagine Elias standing where she was, stabbing people to death, and failed.

  They had moved on quickly, following the direction multiple people had pointed them in, toward the capital, always toward the capital. The next settlement they made their way into, Kalasakie, they hadn’t gotten any help in the Market. That was surprising to Rowan, usually they could find at least one person willing to gossip, but no one was in the Market at all, all the booths boarded up and empty, spider webs dangling at the corners of the abandoned booths, their tenders gone and hiding in their homes.

  Jace and Rowan had wandered around, hoping to run into any townsperson. Any time they did happen to run into someone and ask about Elias though, they clammed up and hurried off. Rowan and Jace had taken to knocking on doors, feeling discouraged. Most were slammed in their face with a curse. Just as Rowan began to despair that a single soul wouldn’t talk to them, they came across Agatha.

  Agatha lived alone in a small, creaky house. “That’s okay though, I’ve got me hound to keep me company.” She had told them as she ushered them through the house to her kitchen, where she promptly sat down at a rickety table. Agatha was a crumbling old woman, with gray wispy hair. She had a big bald patch at the top of her head and was always moving what little hair she did have around to try to cover the glaring blotch of skin.

  “So, has my brother Elias been here?” Rowan said to her. The old woman fidgeted with her hair, seeming to forget she had guests. “He has dark hair like mine, and blue eyes.” Rowan told her, hoping to jog old Agatha’s memories.

  “Oh yes, he’s been through here.” Agatha nodded at them, her eyes squinting as though it was hard for her to see. “Don’t you worry about me any though; I’ve got me Buster to keep me safe.” Agatha smiled at a dog, who lay curled up on the floor beside Agatha’s chair. Though the dog was huge, it appeared as old as Agatha was, its once dark brown fur turning a sickly muddled color with age. Rowan didn’t think the dog could protect Agatha from a dust mite, much less her brother, though she didn’t say so aloud.