“This is madness,” Aleta whispered into her ear, not willing to let go of her and risk standing on her own.
“I know,” Norabel agreed, rubbing her shoulder. “But we’ll find a way out. Don’t worry.”
While still hugging Aleta to her, she noticed that, a little ways away from her, a young girl was also getting trampled to the ground. Norabel recognized the girl as Willow, a thirteen-year old that worked as one of Malachy’s Whispers.
“Hey! Stop!” Norabel yelled out, hoping irrationally to calm the crowd so that they would realize what they were doing, but her feeble cries were lost amongst the roaring panic.
“Aleta,” Norabel said, pulling away from her so that she could look her in the eye. “Hold onto my waist. Whatever you do, don’t let go.”
Aleta’s eyes widened in fright, but she nodded her head anyway, realizing that they would have to try to get out of this crowd eventually.
Trying to maneuver through the people a second time was a lot harder with another person wrapped around her. She couldn’t fit through the same small spaces, and she had to develop a strange kind of rhythm to finding the right times to move forward or stay put. By the time she finally made it to the girl, Willow was bent over on the ground, crying.
Using Aleta as her support, Norabel reached down and difficultly hoisted Willow to her knees. Willow screamed in alarm, thinking that someone was trying to kidnap her, but Norabel quickly called out to her.
“Willow, it’s me! It’s Norabel. Please, I need you to get to your feet!”
Willow stopped screaming and held tightly onto Norabel’s arm. Her fingers were digging into her skin so feverishly that her small wrist felt in danger of cracking under the pressure. Then, finally, Willow was up on her feet and was throwing her arms around her. It was an oddly comforting sensation, Norabel realized, to be hugged from the back and the front at the same time. And the three girls, together, almost made a kind of stronghold so that neither of them could be knocked down.
“My brother!” Willow called out in her ear after a moment. She seemed to catch onto the fact that she shouldn’t let go or try to break the hug they were in.
“Where did you last see him?” Norabel asked, trying to crane her head to look around.
“He…he was standing right next to me. I…I don’t know!”
Before Willow could panic any further, a loud, commanding voice boomed through the village square.
“STOP!” the voice yelled. “EVERYONE WILL FREEZE THIS INSTANT!”
Norabel turned her head to see Chief Auberon on the stage. A few of his men were behind him, trying to put out the fire and cut down the rope that held their unconscious friend captive. With the presence of Auberon, everyone in the crowd immediately stopped and turned to obey him. Norabel couldn’t believe it, but she was actually glad that he was there.
“You are not in danger!” Auberon called out. “The only danger you face is from yourselves. You are trampling each other to get out. You will stop this. You will think rationally. And you will leave here safely.”
Then, turning to where the unconscious official was being lowered down, he scooped him up in his arms and began to carry him towards the stronghold.
With the lull in the crowd, Aleta and Willow slowly detangled themselves from Norabel and looked around them.
“Dek!” Willow called her brother’s name out, pointing to a spot in the crowd.
Norabel looked to where she was pointing and saw Dek, a teenager of fifteen that was considered one of Malachy’s best Whispers, making his way towards them.
“Willow,” he said, giving his sister a brief hug before pulling away. “You shouldn’t have let go of my hand,” he scolded her. Then, turning to Norabel, he said, “Thank you for finding her.”
“We should get you to Malachy’s,” Norabel told them. It was in the same sector as they were in now, and even though the crowd seemed to calm down, she wanted to get them out of there as soon as she could.
They all agreed and, holding hands, Norabel led the three of them towards the ink shop that lied just a block away. When they finally stepped inside, they saw that Malachy had been waiting by the front store window. Seeing who it was, he hurried to grab both Willow and Dek into a fierce hug.
“I was so worried about you two,” he said, hugging their heads to his chest. Then, pulling away, he closed the door behind them and sent Norabel a sharp look of anger. “I would appreciate it if your little group would inform me next time they decided to start a full on revolution in the middle of the village square! I would have advised my kids to stay away!”
“I’m sorry,” Norabel said, at a loss for words. “I…I had no idea that they…that they would…they didn’t tell me everything.”
Malachy’s face softened. “There now, Norabel. I know it wasn’t you.”
She felt a tug on her arm, and she turned back to see Aleta staring at her with wide eyes.
“Do you think…did Logan know?”
“I…” Norabel stuttered, not knowing how to answer that. “I can’t say for sure. My guess is he only knew as much as I did. Our only job was to light the flags on fire.”
Suddenly there was a knock at the door, and Malachy hurried over to it. He put his hand to his lips to tell them all to be quiet. Then, inching the door open, he peeked outside. The moment he saw who it was, he opened the door wider. Immediately Logan entered the shop, and upon seeing Aleta standing there with them, he breathed out a sigh of relief. Striding over to her, he swiftly wrapped her up in his arms and pressed his lips to hers in a fervent kiss.
Pulling away just an inch, he whispered, “I was so worried.”
Aleta touched a loving hand to his cheek, responding, “I’m alright. Norabel helped me out of the crowd.”
Logan took a step back so that he could find Norabel. When he did, he gave her a silent nod of thanks.
“The other side looks a little different than I imagined,” Norabel said, looking to the front window in a daze.
“You have to believe me,” Logan said, adamantly shaking his head. “I had no idea that they were going to do that to that man. Mason assured me they wouldn’t hurt him.”
Before anything more could be said, there was another loud knock on the door. This time when Malachy went to open it, both Mason and Archer came bursting in.
“Good,” Mason said when he took inventory of who was in the room. “I guess we all had the same idea.”
“Hardly!” Logan exclaimed, charging over to his brother in anger. “You told me you wouldn’t hurt him! You left me in the dark! Your own brother!”
“What’s the big deal,” Archer said, blowing out a puff of air. “So we beat up a scumbag leacher. He’s done way worse to the people he’s preyed upon.”
“Oh! You told him!” Logan said, gesturing to Archer.
“Because I knew he wouldn’t blow up like you!” Mason said, shoving his brother out of his face.
“People were trampled upon because of what you did,” Malachy said, using his age as authority over Mason. “Kids with broken bones!”
“Look,” Mason said, taking a step closer to him. “We didn’t know that’s how the crowd would react. Ashlin said the Pax would be the ones creating a riot, and the crowd would be too scared to do anything.”
“Oh, that’s what she said, is it?” Logan said, pointing to the window. “Well, where is your little girlfriend so I can give her a piece of my mind?!”
Mason shot him a glare and responded in a dead-panned voice, “Not here. She’s somewhere safe.”
“She’s probably already in the woods,” Archer offered helpfully. “That girl can sneak around so fast, it’s scary.”
“Yeah,” Logan replied harshly, turning away from them to stand next to Aleta. “She is scary.”
Before Mason could fire something back at his brother, Willow pointed to Norabel exclaiming, “Oh, Norabel, your arm!”
Norabel blinked in confusion for a second, wondering what she was talking ab
out. Her eyes shot down to her arm, and she saw four narrow bruises forming on her wrist. It must have been from when Willow had grabbed onto her. But she couldn’t tell the others that that’s what it was from. Any normal person would be fine after having their arm squeezed a little. This was just another curse from Jotham.
“It’s nothing,” Norabel said, trying to draw attention away from herself. She pulled her cape around her so that it was covering her arm.
“That didn’t look like nothing,” Willow said, not willing to simply forget it.
“You didn’t hurt yourself when you were pulling us through the crowd, did you?” Aleta asked, rushing over to her in concern.
“No, I’m fine.”
“You are not!” Willow insisted.
“Come on, Norabel,” Aleta said, reaching for her cape. “Just show us your arm.”
Norabel’s heart thundered in her ears. If she continued to refuse, it would seem even more suspicious. Her only option was to show them her arm and hope that they didn’t realize what it had come from.
Hanging her head, she brought her arm out from behind her cape. Aleta gasped when she saw the purple and red bruises forming, and gingerly held her wrist in her hands.
“Norabel,” she whispered out in worry.
“How did you get that?” a voice demanded.
For a moment, she didn’t recognize who had spoken. When she looked up, she found Mason standing in front of her.
“Who did that to you?” he demanded again.
Norabel clenched her jaw and turned her face away from his. “It doesn’t matter how I got it.”
“Well, it matters to me!” Mason said, taking a step closer to her.
“Hey, give her some space, will you?!” Logan said, coming to her defense. “She doesn’t want to tell you, so just back off. I think she’s earned the right to keep secrets from you after you kept her in the dark about half your plan tonight.”
Luckily Mason’s attention shifted to his brother, and he took a few steps away from her. “Look, I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry about what happened in the crowd. But I’m not going to apologize for what I did. The only way the Pax will take us seriously is if we pose at least the slightest bit of a threat to them. So, yeah, people are going to get hurt. And if you don’t like it, you better get out now, because people are going to continue to be hurt. I don’t like it any more than you do, but it’s the only way we can bring down the Pax.”
Mason turned away from everyone and stared at the door. He ran a charged hand through his hair and strained out, “And I’m sick of living in this supposed peace! I’m sick of people telling me that everything is alright. Well it’s not alright! And the only way it can get better is if it gets worse.”
He turned back to them and continued. “It’s like a fever, don’t you see. The Pax is a sickness, and the more the fever goes up, the more we are fighting it. And I know that means that it hurts. But if we don’t fight, if we don’t raise the fever, then we’re giving up. And a sick animal that doesn’t have the will to run a fever is a dying animal. So, would you take the chance that the fever might eventually make things better, or will you just do nothing and die quietly in the night?”
Nobody spoke as he stared back at them, catching his breath as if he had just come over a fever himself. Then, in the silence, someone spoke out.
“Well I thought it looked cool.”
All eyes turned to where Dek stood in the corner of the room. Norabel had almost forgotten that he was there with them.
Noticing that everyone was staring at him, he shrugged, saying, “What? I thought it looked cool.”
“Thank you!” Archer exclaimed pleasantly. “I thought I might have been the only one!”
Suddenly the tension in the room seemed to fade. Mason lost the fire in his eyes, and Logan seemed to forget that he was mad at his brother.
“Look, Mason,” Logan said, going over to his little brother and putting a palm on his shoulder. “I’m with you. You know I am. Just, next time please trust me enough to tell me what you’re doing.”
Mason’s face fell in apology and he nodded his head. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“You’ve got a big brother,” Logan added, giving him a playful shake. “So remember I’ve got you’re back, no matter what you get yourself into.”
As the two brothers reconciled with each other, Norabel wanted to slip away before anyone could remember about her arm. There was a back door to Malachy’s ink shop, and she turned around and started to slip towards it. She made it safely into the second room, away from the view of the others, but before she could make it to the back door, Aleta’s voice called out to her.
“You’re leaving?”
Norabel’s heart sank, and she turned around. There was no light in the back room, but she could see Aleta’s outline as she strode over to stand in front of her, blocking her path to the door.
“Will you please tell me what’s wrong?” she pleaded. “Why won’t you tell us what happened to your arm?”
“Please Aleta,” Norabel begged, clasping her hands over hers. “Please, can you just forget it?”
Aleta looked down to their hands and got another look at the bruises on her wrist. In the dark, all that was visible was a faint shading on her skin, yet it somehow sparked a memory in Aleta’s mind.
“This wasn’t from when you pulled up Willow, was it?” she gasped.
Norabel’s shoulders fell, and she closed her eyes in defeat.
“Norabel, is that…is that what this is?”
She reluctantly nodded her head.
“But, I don’t understand. How…”
Norabel took a quick peek to the front room to make sure no one else was listening in on them, before admitting in a strained and pinched voice, “I have Jotham’s. I didn’t want anyone to know.”
Aleta put a hand up to her mouth in shock, but didn’t utter a sound.
“Please don’t tell anyone,” Norabel pleaded. “Not even Logan. Please, Aleta. Promise me you won’t.”
Aleta blinked and stuttered, trying to process what she was hearing. “Wh—yes, I promise. But why don’t you want anyone to know?”
She held up her bruised wrist, responding, “Because a Harbinger team is no place for a Jotham. They’d kick me off the second they found out.”
“So be kicked off the team!” Aleta whispered furiously. “I don’t see what’s so horrible in that.”
“You don’t understand,” she said, looking away and shielding her face in the shadows. “If I’m not on the team, then I’ll never see him again.”
“Wha…” Aleta started to say in confusion, when she stopped herself, realizing what she meant. “Oh, Norabel,” she said, rubbing her arm in comfort.
“It’s stupid, I know,” Norabel admitted. “I should just get over it. But we were so happy when we were kids. I keep thinking one of these days he’s going to remember. He’ll just go up to me and start talking and joking as if nothing had happened, like he remembered how to be that fifteen year old kid that I miss so much. That he’ll remember he was my best friend.”
“Come here,” Aleta said soothingly, pulling Norabel to her in a hug.
“So, you won’t say anything?” Norabel asked, her voice muffled into Aleta’s shoulder.
“Not if you don’t want me to.” Pulling away, she gave her a smile, adding, “Your secret’s safe with me Norabel. Now, let me help you put something on that.”
Chapter 11
Hunter looked gravely outside of the mess-hall window to the courtyard below. In the distance, he could see the charred wooden structure of the stage that had been half-burned down last night. Two officials chopped away at it with axes, and Hunter could hear the faint echo as their steel hit the dull wood.
“Hunter,” his uncle’s voice called to him from behind. “It’s time.”
Hunter took one last look at the village square, hoping that no one he knew had been hurt, and turned from the window to face his uncle. Lorca
n waved him forward and began to lead him through the mess hall, past the morning commotion of noisy men eating their breakfasts.
“Hey Hunter!” a voice called out to him from across the room.
He didn’t turn to acknowledge it. He knew Fletcher’s voice when he heard it.
“I hear you’re going on a little trip!” he yelled out, determined to grab his attention. “That’s a shame. I’m planning on being real busy while you’re away.”
Hunter bit down on his tongue as he silently followed his uncle. Lorcan glanced back at him briefly, as if to make sure he wasn’t about to engage him. When they finally made it out of the mess hall, they turned down the hallway and headed towards the portion of the stronghold set aside for the senior officers.
The first door they came to belonged to Chief Auberon himself, and Lorcan knocked on the wood, waiting for a reply. When they heard their Commander and Chief respond for them to come in, Lorcan opened the door and swiftly ushered his nephew inside.
“Here he is, Auberon,” Lorcan announced, looking proudly at his nephew. “The best horse rider this side of Valor Wood.”
Hunter stood up straighter as he looked across at Auberon. The older man was standing over a map, and only briefly looked up to acknowledge his presence.
“I trust you chose him on merit,” he said, addressing Lorcan while still examining the map. “If it had anything to do with his relation to you, you’d be doing him a disservice.”
“Hunter is the best rider I’ve ever seen,” Lorcan affirmed with a nod.
It seemed that this was all Auberon required, for he looked up at Hunter, saying, “Good,” before promptly returning to his map. Then pointing to a spot on it, he said, “Come here, boy. I want you to see your destination.”
Hunter took a breath. The air in his lungs cleared his head a little. Striding over to the table, he looked down at where Auberon was pointing to. He had to twist his head to get a better view, for at first he did not believe he had seen the name right.
“Liadrel, sir?” he asked respectfully. “Isn’t it forbidden?”
Chasing Shadows (Saving Galerance, Book 1) Page 12