by Raven Bouray
“Oh yes. We get all the rogues, outlaws, castoffs, disfigured ones, and the rogue magickers trynna flee the Cagers. Just thought I’d give you some advice. You seem like a good one.”
At that, Emmaline snorted, “Hardly.”
“A girl? Really? You doing some slave trading? Not that I would judge ya. Everyone’s got something.”
“I’m not a slave,” she huffed out.
“We’re all slaves to something, girl,” the woman retorted.
“You seem to be a slave to this desolate place,” she fired back.
The woman chuckled darkly, chidingly, “You are young. This place served us well for many many years. I and a few others have chosen to remain in penance.”
“Penance? What sort of thing would you stay here for?” Apparent disdain leaked into her tone, and she hardly cared.
If the woman noticed, she gave no indication. “The gods thought us too greedy.” Even though her face gave nothing away, her tone was one of equal bite. It made her feel like Irine often did when she had done something foolish but she refused to backtrack or apologize. “And so they punished us. Or possibly more likely, Arator punished our sloth and our greed. So we stay to prove our worth. And when the rivers run green once more, we will be the ones who will be first blessed.”
“But won’t that make you greedy? And cause a new punishment?”
The woman gave a loud guffaw. “Perhaps. But if we are wise, we will learn from our mistakes. If we are not, then we would deserve such punishment again, no?”
“I suppose so.” Emmaline turned from her and began to look at the shelving again.
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched her captor walk up to the counter with his haul and point to several bottles on the shelves behind the counter. The woman turned and produced several small leather pouches and began to carefully uncork the bottles and place a small amount of the contents into each pouch.
Emmaline continued to look around and found a small shelf of thin books. They were utilitarian, most about foraging, climbing, making a camp, and even a small bestiary. All things one might need when crossing rugged terrain. She reached forward to pick one up but heard metal hit the counter and turned back from the self to look toward the sound.
Her captor had dropped silver coins on the countertop, and she had to wonder where he had even found coin. Had he stolen or earned them? Was there someone dead and gone because of it? Even if she asked, she doubted that he would give her a straight answer.
He turned from the counter to find her staring at him, “Make ye useful. Carry this.” In his grasp, a bag hung heavy with the items he had purchased.
Emmaline glared at him. “Why should I?”
“I give coins, you carreh. Jus’ ta horse. No’ tha’ far.” He shook the bag slightly in his fist, and she gave a growl and stalked forward across the small space to snatch it from his hand.
The burlap sack was quite weighted, and she turned away to leave. “Fine.”
“Have a good trip, you two,” the woman purred behind her.
“Yes. Good trip. Into a dark canyon filled with beasts and unstable caverns.” Sarcasm dripped from her tone as she opened the door and walked out into the fading sunlight.
Arya lifted her head, her ears flicked back and forth, and she gave a light whicker in greeting. Emmaline lifted her free hand to scratch between her dark blue eyes.
The white head nudged at her arm and belly, and she let out a small laugh in reply. The laughter was out of place here in this ghost town, but despite the atmosphere around her, the cloudy mood from the past few days lightened somewhat.
And with her better mood, the shame of her petulant behavior crept up and seized her heart in its grip. Her father and mother didn’t raise her to be some spoiled brat who used rudeness and anger as tools for communication. They raised her to find the best in any situation and to use her best face to confront any situation.
After toying with the thought of going back into the store to apologize, she decided against it. No going back. Only forward. Instead of being angry, perhaps she would try a new tactic. One that was a better balm for her mood than resistance and rage. One that was more like her and less like Edrin DeVross.
Her captor exited with another smaller bag that he shoved into the folds of his cloak and stopped in front of her. His head lifted and she thought that he might have leaned back slightly after getting a look at her expression. “Come ‘ere.” He gestured her forward, and she followed with the bag in hand on foot.
Arya plodded after both of them.
They walked only a short distance and stopped in front of a door. He pushed it open and walked inside.
“What are you doing?” She hissed.
“Goin’ in,” he answered wryly.
“You can’t just go into someone’s house. It’s against the law.”
“No’ if they leave.”
“Are you sure it’s abandoned?” She walked inside uneasily.
“Yes. Come in.” He took the sack from her grasp and set it down on a table.
The inside of the one roomed home contained a chair, table and two beds with stuffed mattresses. Emmaline walked over to one of them and pressed her palm down into the fabric. It sunk in softly, and she could have squealed with delight. Stuffed with wool. An actual bed not made of straw, stone, or dirt. But the edge of unease still simmered along her consciousness. “Are you sure?”
He sighed. “Yes. Now rest. Sof’ bed. No’ much sof’ where we be goin’.”
She sat down on the bed and let out a pleased sigh as her tender hip sunk into the cradle of wool. “Fine.” With a click of her tongue, Arya also ducked into the building, and her captor dug into his cloak to produce a handful of grain, of which her horse rushed over to devour.
Wide eyed shock rushed through her. So that was how he did it. That’s how he turned her friend against her. Treats. Following the rush of clarity was one of irritation. How delicious was that grain to have turned Arya against her. Was her mare really that fickle? Traitor.
“We won’t be able to take her with us.”
“Hmm?” His tone rang of absent thought.
“Arya. She won’t be able to come with us down there. Wouldn’t it be better if we took the long way around? Safer even?”
“We canna go tha’ way. No’ enough time. An’ she will go wit’ us.”
“From what I know of the Barren Wilds, it’s filled with pitfalls and crags and narrow cliffs. I don’t want her to fall and die.”
“She will no’.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Eat, sleep. We leave when sun is up.” He patted the horse on her neck before taking a seat on the other bed. “No fear need be. Ye may nee’ a weapon though.”
“I don’t think I’m a warrior.” She rubbed her hands together and twiddled her fingers while looking down at them.
“Ye train’d wit’ yer captain, no? Wha’ was all tha’ if no’ for warrior?”
“I was playing a game, it seems. All the times I’ve been near a real fight, I’ve been nothing but a coward.”
“No’ less. Ye need a weapon.”
Emmaline turned from him to lie down on her bed and she stared up at the ceiling, or what was left of it. Stars blinked and shone through holes in the roof, and she watched them even as her eyelids drooped closed and she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 19
Emmaline opened her eyes and looked around to find tall people milling around her, talking in low musical tones holding glasses of what looked like wine. Despite knowing that she had not been here moments ago, she felt right at home. Music weaved through the crowd and she took off, spinning in a circle laughing and dancing to the beat.
Despite the fact that this couldn’t be real, she had no control of her movements at all. It was like she was watching a memory in a Triveri glass rather than dreaming.
Emmaline looked straight up and around as she moved and skipped through the throngs of people. The thing that struck her was the su
bstantial amount of green, gold, and red that surrounded the area she danced around in on all sides. Beneath feet that were oddly bare, it felt like a polished wood floor. But without control, she couldn’t do much more than take glimpses of her surroundings and the waists and feet of other people.
She took off toward a suspended bridge and when she looked down her heart leapt in her throat. They were rather high off of the ground, suspended in what she surmised must be a city made of trees with wooden suspension bridges connecting each platform to the next... Her feet slapped along the bridge fearlessly, and it seemed like she was making her way to a specific destination. There was a certain chill in the air that perhaps hinted at winter or early springtime, and the pale blue sky had the look of sunset to it.
She was able to dart through many people without even brushing alongside them, and it reminded her of how mice would dart along the bottom of the castle walls. She noticed that the faces of the taller people around her looked alien and unfamiliar, but they all gave a smile and nod to her as she passed. Pointed features predominated their faces, rather than the rounder profiles that she was used to. Even their eyes were odd to her as they were shaped like almonds instead of spheres. Not to mention the pointed ears that extended past the crown of their heads. Despite all of this, every single one of them was hauntingly beautiful. Elves. They had to be elves. But why was she here surrounded by them in a dream, when she had never even seen elves before, not even a drawing to give her an idea of what they looked like?
She finally slowed down when her feet touched down on the biggest platform yet. This one surrounded a massive tree, bigger than she thought that trees could ever be. There wasn’t enough time to be awed by it because she put her head down again and made her way slowly through the crowds. This time though she was greeted by several beautiful people who went out of their way to do so. Most of them bowed and called her Princess. She responded with a voice that was high pitched and small. A child’s voice. Which made sense with both her stature here and her speed.
Eventually she stepped into an open area in front of a platform and instantly her gaze locked on the most beautiful blonde woman that she had ever seen standing atop the dais. “Mama!” she greeted the woman and climbed up the steps to her. The woman greeted her with a radiant smile and bent down to wrap her in a hug. But like any child she squirmed after a few moments to be let free. The woman she called mama released her and stood. Directly behind her was an elaborate throne made from white wood and next to it a smaller throne of dark wood. To the opposite side was a smaller throne. She stepped right up to the smallest of the three chairs and sat down on it to watch the festivities. Couples danced to the music and plates of food were being passed around. Her stomach grumbled a bit, but she made no move to claim any food for herself.
It wasn’t long before a sullen looking teenager broke through the crowd. Despite knowing that he must have a face, her perception of him was blurred and the only thing she could see clearly were his eyes. They were a bright but intense green color, like a dark emerald or when the pine trees were at the height of growing season. She felt a thrill of exhilaration and gave a happy cry of what might have been his name. It was a heartbeat before she pushed off of the still too large throne to hasten to him. He evaded her embrace, and she heard a reprimand from the beautiful woman. Her shoulders bunched, and she gave a sullen sigh before she turned away and took her seat once more. Laughter from the partygoers at her antics briefly warmed her face. But why should she be embarrassed?
The boy took the steps quickly and walked past her to stand like a bodyguard would to her rear left. She turned to look at him with a smile which he barely returned. But that didn’t seem to bother her much as she turned back to look around the platform. Her eyes didn’t stay on one person or place for very long because there was so much to watch. But Emmaline wouldn’t complain. The women were dressed in the most beautiful, flowing gowns that shone brightly with every color imaginable and the males were similarly dressed in long coats and vests in bright colors as well. It was far more than any other party she had ever been to. Her feet swung back and forth and she fidgeted in her seat. Emmaline knew that it was a weakness of small children, as she had also once been one of those not too terribly long ago. They had very little patience for sitting.
Soon though her dream child’s patience was rewarded as the woman she called mama spread her arms apart and made a cutting motion with one hand. The lively music surrounding them faded at once and she began to speak. “This year has been plentiful and rewarding and the earth has been kind and nurturing to her people. Your king consort is finishing the wards along the forest, and when he returns, the ceremony to renew the barrier around our beloved Grilorin will begin.” The golden haired woman paused and turned to face her. “And this will be the first ceremony that my daughter will participate in, as is her duty.”
There was applause from the onlookers, and she lifted a small hand in a childish wave while she smiled.
“Eventine is a ceremony of renewal, as you all well know. The end of winter is upon us, and glorious lively spring will sweep through our fields and forest and--.” The woman’s speech ended abruptly and she turned her gaze from the people in front of her to her dream mother. Golden eyebrows were drawn in a look of concern and Emmaline felt her chest expand with the beginnings of a question when she felt the tiniest vibration run through her body. Then again and again. Stronger pulses shook her until they wouldn’t stop.
The people around her were making nervous sounds, and she felt the edge of fear curl through her mind.
An explosion from below deafened her and knocked her from the chair onto the ground. Muted screams pierced her skull as she pushed up from the floor. Her vision was obscured by blonde waves as she tried to look around, “Mama!” She shrieked in fear as another explosion hit the platform. The platform shuddered with the pounding of many pairs of feet and she felt an arm around her middle to heft her up. “Mama!” She shrieked once more, then blinked.
And when her eyes opened again she was sitting up in bed, breathless and panicked.
“Tá anfuil míth. Sér bhíah äg a dôna aisig. Milïs banrinsa.” The words echoed in her mind, both familiar and not, but in the end, all her sleep addled mind could comprehend was gibberish.
She focused on the room and tried to slow the beating of her heart. That dream had felt so real, so much more like a memory than something she could have conjured up on her own. Most of her dreams this past week had been of food and a nice warm bed, and soap. Nice soap. This had been terrifying. Darkness still predominated their stolen space, and she found her captor kneeling next to her bed still hooded and cloaked. But he hadn’t touched her at all, despite what must have been her unconscious distress. He was still speaking, but she wasn’t paying that much attention to the words. “Stop speaking that nonsense. I can’t understand it. You know that.”
He stopped and his hood tilted. He looked much like a curious cat or dog that had found something odd but interesting. “I was sayin tha’ ye were fine. Jus’ a bad dream.”
Had she been talking in her sleep? That seemed even more odd. Acting out her sleeping memory was quite a bit more than anything she had done before. “It was so strange. What did I say in my sleep?”
“Wha’ do ye ‘member?”
She tried to summon up the dream which had been so very vivid at the moment of her awakening but as she tried to grab onto the images they slipped through her fingers as if they were made of smoke. “Nothing now. But it seemed so real…” Emmaline shook her head and rubbed her temples. “I was so afraid but I don’t know why.” Her heart had now resumed a more calm and normal rhythm in her chest, and her breathing had also returned to normal as if nothing had happened at all.
“Are ye well now?”
“Yes. Thank you. Sorry I woke you.”
The cloak shrugged. “No matter. Get bac’ ta sleep. Ye still ‘ave a few hours left.” He stood up from his post at her bedside and walked t
o his bed on the other side of the room, wrapping his cloak around him as he sat down upon it before lying down himself.
Emmaline shook the last of that feeling of fear off of her. She hoped that she wouldn’t dream that same dream again. Or maybe she should want to dream it again. Just to know what happened.
With a deep breath, she laid back down on the soft bed and laid there for some time before drifting back to sleep.
Chapter 20
It was the presence of light in her eyes that brought her from her dreamless sleep. That, and the sounds of movement close by. She sat up and rubbed her eyes to free the sleep from them. However she wasn’t sure how long she had been awake for last night, but the vestiges of sleep clung to her like a shroud and she blearily looked around for the source of the sounds around her. Emmaline was alone in the abandoned home but knew that her captor was not far from her, and that also meant that Arya was close by as well. Despite her traitorous nature toward him, she was still quite loyal to Emmaline.