Promise: The Scarred Girl

by Maya Shepherd

  The memory of Arras’ completely scarred back flashes before Nea. Tears shoot out of her eyes and she looks at Arras and the scar that runs on the right side of his face. Tears roll down her cheeks. He has suffered enough already. Just the thought of it, the lattice of scars on his body, her heart breaks. It’s a pain that goes deeper than any physical suffering.

  “No,” Nea screams before she can think.

  Urelitas’ view darkens and condescendingly says, “Do not worry, you’re next.”

  “I will take the lashes. Arras is innocent. He has done nothing.”

  Now it is Arras who screams, “No! I can pay my own debt.”

  “You’re not to blame,” Nea replies. “If you had not helped Kasia you would not even be in this situation.”

  “If I had not helped you, I would never have met you,” Arras replies and looks at Nea in the eye for the first time in days. His eyes are full of warmth. For a moment she forgets about all of the people around them and their impending doom. It is an intensive exchange of glances that says more than words could. Their wordless connection is back. They have found each other. Two fragments arise and form a whole.

  “That’s enough!” Urelitas complains, angry at the interruption. “When you take your punishment, I will allow you to join the slaves.”

  He says it as if Arras has a choice. But who would prefer death to slavery?

  He turns to Nea. “You not only lied to the Carris and the first wife, but also to Ereb. For you there is no salvation and are condemned to death by fire. Before that, however, you will receive twenty lashes.”

  Nea feels the color drain from her face. Her stomach rebels and her knees soften and buckle and she falls on her butt. She gasps, but in the next moment she vomits on the floor. It is pure bile. Nea gasps for air. Arras screams and thrashes around while Kasia sobs loudly. For Nea it is meaningless. She does not struggle as the guards grab her under the arms and carry her out of the hall.

  Sixteen

  Nea sits alone in the cell. Arras is no longer with her. She needs his closeness now more than ever. Now that they have become friends again, he would surely close his arms around her and she could forget about how hopeless their situation is, at least for the moment. She tries to get used to the idea that she will die, but it is impossible. She talks to herself over and over again, but the spark of hope is not easily extinguished. She does not know who or what could rescue her. Nevertheless, she is certain that Arras is trying everything in his power to free her, but he himself is a prisoner, and no matter how strong he may be, has a small chance of succeeding against a city full of Carris. Not only that, but he has not had time to think about a plan. Even if Kasia helps him, it would be difficult, but Nea doubts Kasia will get involved.

  She does not miss the curious gaze of the other prisoners. In the time since she was returned to the prison, none of the other prisoners have returned, which means they were condemned to slavery. Ereb and the Carris must be afraid of her, otherwise they would not have condemned her to death. Maybe Urelitas had a personal vendetta against her. She hoped she would never see the man again.

  Nea wonders if her whole trip was a mistake. If she had never left her home, she would not be stuck in a prison. But she would have never met the twins. They showed her that she is able to make friends. She always thought she would live the rest of her life alone. She believed that after Miro’s death she would not be able to build an interpersonal relationship with another person. She was never good at it. She was always secretive and obstinate. After Miro’s death, she could not bear being near other people.

  She thinks of Arras’ warm eyes that betrayed the soft core behind his hard shell. He was the first person she was close to since Miro. Not on a physical level, but emotional. Even she does not understand the bond that developed between them. She just knows that she feels comfortable in his presence. She feels less broken.

  Maybe they could have been more. Maybe they could heal each other. If they had more time. If they had lived in a different world.

  Nea looks up at the window. The first rays of sunlight barely penetrate into the cell. She is thankful that the sky is overcast and gray. In her position, she feels sunshine would be a mockery. Although she is tired and stuck in this cell with her thoughts and memories, she feels the last hours of her life are too precious to waste sleeping.

  Soon the cell doors open and Urelitas walks in. He is accompanied by several guards. Nea is subordinate. Nea feels that to fight would be pointless at this time.

  Urelitas tosses a black cloth to the ground at her feet. “Put this on!”

  She looks at him questioningly. The cells are visible to everyone. Does he now want to take her last shred of dignity by forcing her to strip in front of all the other prisoners and guards?

  “Well, come on! We haven’t got all day!”

  Nea bends down and lifts the black fabric. It is a simple dress whose back is uncovered. She knows why. She swallows her tears and unlaces and removes her boots. Then she removes her pants and top so now she stands in her underwear. She turns her back to Urelitas and removes her bra. Quickly she pulls the dress on. She closes her eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath. He can take her dignity only if she allows it.

  With head held high she turns to him and smirks at him, challenging him. She thinks, ‘You cannot break me!’

  The guards grab her and lead her barefooted from the cell.

  Nea is taken to the large square in front of city hall. It was empty the day before, but today it is full of people. Most of them are slaves. The guards form a pathway to allow Urelitas and his entourage through. A platform has been built directly in front of the town hall and next to it is a stake and pyre. She will soon be strapped to it and set on fire. Everything seems so surreal that Nea almost expects to wake from the nightmare at any moment.

  On the other side of the platform are guards, other Carris priests, and Kasia, holding a child in her arms. Nea does not know if it is a boy or a girl. Despite all that has been happening, Nea is suddenly overcome by a feeling of affection for Kasia and realizes that she would have never had the heart to betray Kasia had her child been born under her and Arras’ care. Kasia appears to be crying and is very pale. The slight rain causes her blond hair to stick to her forehead. As Nea enters the platform, she sobs loudly. The attending priests admonish her to maintain posture, but Kasia cannot control her tears.

  Urelitas forces Nea to kneel on a wooden block in the center of the platform. For the first time, she directs her sight at the crowd and finds Arras immediately. He stands in the front of the crowd and is held by several guards. He is being forced to watch. His anger is apparent. His whole body is under stress, like he is readying himself to fight back at the slightest opportunity. Seeing Arras makes Nea so happy that a tiny smile flits across her lips. Arras’ eyes water and a single tear rolls down his scarred cheek. Nea would like to wipe away his tears, to touch him and show that his scars do not repel her, that she admires his will to survive. She wants to show and tell him so much, but she will not be able to. It will be one of the many things in life she will be unable to do.

  “This woman is a traitor!” Urelitas screams at the crowd. There are no calls. No murmurs. It is dead silent.

  She kidnapped Ereb' first wife. She lied to us. She betrayed us. She wanted to take the Holy Child.”

  His words move the crowd. Most of the crowd appears to be slaves who are only there under duress, and must go along with the spectacle. “You will regret your deed as you receive twenty lashes and then burn at the stake. Only in your death will Ereb redeem your unworthy life.”

  Nea’s heart is racing. She is afraid of the pain the first blow will trigger. She has survived a fight with a bear, but this will be completely different. She is defenseless.

  “You may begin,” Urelitas commanded. To Nea, it sounds like a man entered the stage from the rear. She cannot see him. Her hands are sweaty as she tries to hold onto wooden block for support. The slight r
ain covers her back and she hears the crack of the whip before it hits her. She has nothing to compare the pain to. Nea tries to be strong. She does not cry or scream, but the impact pushes tears to her eyes. It feels as if someone has taken a knife and slashed her back. Even the wind that sweeps over the wound hurts.

  The next strike is even worse as it touches some of the soreness of the first strike and robs Nea of her breath. She can only scream. Every other thought is wiped out, even today, the day of her death.

  After the eighth blow, Nea’s strength is gone. She can no longer cling to the wooden block. Her head falls forward as she gasps for breath. It’s hard for her to keep her eyes open. She moans in pain as the ninth blow hits her back. She gazes out to the crowd and sees two familiar faces. The twins. They wear the dark red vest of slavery as they stare up at her crying. They hold each other and shake all over. Nea is not sure if she is hallucinating. It makes no difference, because she will soon die.

  The tenth blow hits her bleeding back and Arras’ cry breaks through to her. His scream is louder than hers. The Carris guards holding him act like they are trying to keep a wild animal at bay. Nea does not regret her decision. She does not want to change places with him. It would kill her to see a man she loves suffer so much. Love? Does she love Arras? She barely knows him. It is meaningless. Nea loses consciousness.

  She is torn under her arms and her legs and the pain in her back causes her to cry out again. She wants it to stop even if it means her death.

  The guards drag her from the platform to the stake. Like a doll, they press her to the stake and tie her hands behind her back firmly. The wood on her bare skin burns like fire and she jerks forward, but her bound arms hold her in place.

  The smell of fire rises into her nose and she sees Urelitas with a torch in front of the pyre. He yells something but cannot understand him. She has the feeling of being in a whirlpool and being spun around in a circle.

  Urelitas drops the torch on a pile of straw located at the base of the pyre and the flames spread greedily. The rising smoke burns Nea’s eyes. Her throat is sore from all of her screaming. She tries to hold her breath. She can feel the heat of the fire. Her whole body burns as though it were already in flames. She stretches her head to the sky and feels the light rain on her face. God will not save her. If there is a heaven, she will be with her parents and Miro soon. That’s what she always wanted. Maybe it’s better this way.

  She opens her eyes and her gaze falls on the topmost window of the town hall. A bright white cloth sails down at her, almost like a dove. It flutters in the wind. Nea is fascinated by the sight. From far away, she hears someone scream, “Stop!” She would recognize that voice anywhere. Her head is playing a prank on her in her final moments.

  The cloth falls on her face and covers her eyes. She breathes in the smell of ripe oranges and somehow feels secure. It is the scent of another time, a better time.

  As the cloth falls off her face, she sees that several guards have rushed to the stake and are trying to extinguish it with water. The gray smoke causes Nea to cough. What is happening here? Why are they putting out the flames? Did Kasia tell them to stop?

  The smoke around her is so dense that she cannot see anything. She hears someone walking up behind her. Her binds holding her to the stake come loose. Before she can tilt forward, strong hands close in around her hips. Someone holds her shoulders and then lifts her up. She is dizzy from the movement and struggles to not lose consciousness. She cannot give up now. She needs to find out what’s going on.

  She raises her head and looks into the most beautiful face she has ever seen. Eyes as blue as the sky on a summer day. It is Miro. Nea is sure she must be dead already. Otherwise she cannot explain this miracle.

  Miro walks down from the stake and when he reaches the bottom, all Carris bow before him. Even Urelitas.

  “Ereb is chaos, chaos is Ereb,” Miro roars. This does not make sense to Nea. What does he have to do with the Carris? Heaven is a strange place.

  “I will spare this woman and command that no one may ever hurt a hair on her ever again,” Miro continues in a commanding tone. He sounds nothing like the Miro she knew. Though he never lacked self-confidence, he was never authoritarian.

  No one dares to contradict him. Miro’s gaze wanders to Nea, still lying in his arms. A warm and loving expression fills his eyes. “I never thought I would see you again,” he whispers. Tears cover his eyes.

  ‘Is this really heaven?’ Nea thinks. Everything feels so real. But Miro is dead! She saw him fall off the cliff... he must be dead.

  “Speak to me, Nea,” Miro begs her, crying. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

  Is it really possible that Miro and Ereb are one and the same person? Nea remembers that there were Carris before his death, but at that time they were only a small sect, completely harmless. But after Miro’s death, they suddenly became powerful. That was when the story of their god who rose up from the sea started spreading. If it’s really true, it would mean that Miro must have survived the fall and never returned. It would mean he did not care about her.

  With a jolt, Nea repels Miro and falls to the ground. Kasia runs to her side.

  “Nea, I’m so terribly sorry,” she weeps and stretches her hands out to Nea to help her up. Nea just stares at her, stunned. If Miro is Ereb, then he is married to Kasia. Not only that, he is the father of her child. She will never forgive Miro.

  To be continued...

  Acknowledgments

  There are many people who have accompanied me on the long journey of writing this novel. In order to explain how important this book is to me, I will have to go back quite far. This is not just one novel of many; this was my first real work. I started writing this book three years ago, but never dared to publish it. It always ended up back in the drawer, only to be pulled out and revised again every few months. More work has gone into this one than into any of my other works. I am now happy to send this book out into the big wide world out there. But, it would have been impossible for me without the help of some wonderful people.

  This novel is dedicated to Sabrina Keim. She helped me not only to capture my dreams, but to write them down as well. She was one of the first people to have read the rough draft of “Promise.” To talk to her about the characters of the book was to talk about common acquaintances.

  Sabrina has read the book and found it good. Without her consent, I would have given up immediately. I love our hours of conversations about books and series.

  This book brought me closer to my in-laws, Henny Schäfer-Einfinger and Lutz Einfinger. Asking them to read my book was like inviting them to take a look into my soul. In every book I write, there is a piece of my personality.

  Of course I am also grateful for my proofreaders, Michaela Wiedau, Lisa Czieslik, Manja Teichner, Carina Griendl, Katharine Heil, and Nicole Geldmacher. Your corrections encouraged me to give this work the finishing touches.

  Thanks also to Ines Caranaubahx. She has shown great patience with me and my cover needs. The result, which you can see here, not only reflects the atmosphere of the book, but is better than I ever dared to hope. I am already looking forward to the cover for the second part.

  The best has been saved for last, and in this case, this is my husband, Robert Schäfer. Since we have been together I have never seen him with a book in his hand. However, I was allowed to read my written lines to him every night. This not only motivated me, but made me happy. In a relationship, it is not important that you share hobbies, but it is important to support each other’s dreams. My husband could not have done better.

 

 

 
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