by Pia Morrow
Chapter 3
They took her to the caravan with little fuss and left her there with a lone soldier guarding her. She supposed she was not much of a threat. Like everyone, she had hoped she would be the type to put up a fight in this kind of situation, but the shock had sapped her of any energy, of anything but the lead-boned desire to simply sink to the floor and stare. What had just happened?
For nearly an hour, she was sure, she simply sat and stared at the slats in the caravan’s bottom. The vehicle was barred, and she was the only one in it, thank god. Surely this was all some terrible misunderstanding, she thought, over and over. There was no mage blood in her, no magic. Her mother had been a bright and normal woman before the sleeping fever had taken both her parents from this earth. If it had been from her, then Aunt Elba would be implicated too. Her father, then. Her mouth dried at that. Her aunt never spoke of him, and a look of strong distaste had come over her face whenever Myra had asked about him as a child. She had thought little of it. Aunt Elba wore that expression a lot when it came to her, especially when she asked about the past. She remembered the look on her face and shivered. She had never looked at her with anything approaching compassion or regret. Not until that moment. She remembered how she had done nothing to help her; she hadn’t cried out nor held on as Kiana had. Even Lia had shown more emotion, turning away with tears streaming down her face. Aunt Elba had only watched.
Nonetheless, when she saw an approaching shadow that resolved into her shape, she felt relieved.
“Thank god,” she said, pressing herself against the bars. “Have you sorted this out?”
“Can I have a word with the prisoner?” she said in deference to the soldier before even looking her way. The man considered for a moment then nodded. He stepped to the side, still near enough to leap at the slightest disturbance, though obviously, he expected little from a catatonic prisoner and an old woman.
The prisoner. Her aunt had called her that. She stared at her. “You’re not here to let me out, are you?”
“Of course not,” she replied tersely, and Myra felt her last hope flicker out and die. “I’m simply here to…to say my farewells. Aura would have wanted that kindness, at least.”
That kindness. Myra wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. “Well, goodbye Aunt.” She let go of the bars and sank back onto her ankles. “You’re finally free of me. I imagine you’ll find some other poor orphan to do the work I did.”
Aunt Elba sighed a little. “If she had never met that…that man. Well, she’d still be here and you would be far away from this place. If you blame anyone, blame your mother.”
“How can I, when I don’t know anything about her?”
Aunt Elba shuffled uncomfortably. This was Myra’s last chance. “Who was my father?”
“He’s the man that landed you in that cage. And your mother in her grave,” she said simply. “I don’t know much else about him, except he had magic in him. Nothing fancy, mind. A few tricks. Not enough to be useful, nor save anyone. I imagine he’s gone now too, if he’s not in one of those workhouses down south.”
The shock of the news came as a dull impact on a day like today. Aunt Elba had always said he was dead too, and she had believed it, wholeheartedly. In truth, she didn’t even know.
“I took you in when no one else would have you and gave you a home for twenty-four years,” she was saying. “I knew what you were, and I sheltered you all these years. For her. But you’re grown now and you have to go on your way. I’ve provided all I could these years.”
“You never gave me a kind word. Not a hug or a kiss or a show of care.”
“I provided all I could,” she said firmly. “I can do nothing more for you. It’s you or the company.”
And she chose the company. Myra simply nodded. “Well, I thank you for the tent over my head, all these years.” The words tasted like metal in her mouth. “I’m sure my mother would have been grateful, for all you provided.”
She didn’t know if Aunt Elba read the sarcasm in her voice because she refused to look up until she heard the heavy sigh and the tramping away of feet on fallen leaves. Once she knew the woman was gone, she let the tears fall down her face. Twenty-three years and this was what there was to show for it. Not for the first time, she wondered if Aunt Elba might have loved a different version of her. A better version.
She thought of Kiana. They hadn’t even been able to say goodbye. If her aunt could come and see her, why hadn’t she? Her entire life had been a lie, she reflected. Then why not that too? Perhaps she didn’t want to endanger herself. It hurt like a lead bullet in the heart, but she understood. The thought that she might not see her again was unimaginable. She had seen her every day of her life for fifteen years. Slept beside her, cried beside her. How could she simply not be here with her? It scared her more than the road ahead and the thought of registration and workhouses. But a part of her was glad. She was safe. The bird had not landed on her. She wouldn’t have to see her tears through the bars. This would all be quite impossible if she had to see that.
She supposed at some point, she must have slept, though she didn’t remember closing her eyes, nor opening them again. But the next thing she knew, she was moving, and the sky was tinged with orange. Through the slats in the caravan floor, she saw dirt moving by and the vibrations through the thing sent reverberations through her. Someone had chucked in a stale bread roll and a small basin of water, much like what you would give to a dog. A considerable portion of that had sloshed onto the wood of the caravan, but she lifted the container and gulped down what she could, suddenly realising that she was parched. She had nothing approaching an appetite, but she tore off pieces of the hard bread and chewed just to give her something to do. Besides, she would need her strength. She tried to find out where they were by what little she could see through the bars, but all she could identify was miles and miles of woodland. From the sunrise, she could tell they were going West. To the capital, most likely.
Some years ago, when the current Emperor had come to his reign, it was decided that mages were too dangerous to live without everyone knowing who they were. They were told to register, and many did, not knowing what awaited them. At first, it was just that. Then they had to turn up to daily sign-ins. They had to let someone know any time they moved. Soon, the measures ramped up, and many were torn from their homes, accused of crimes. Like most people, Myra had grown up with a reverent fear of the mages. After all, who knew what they got up to? Perhaps they really were plotting against the Emperor. Perhaps it was justified. In the years since, though, persecution had increased, and they were taken to workhouses, where they might engage in ‘useful pursuits’ for the Empire and be under its watchful eye as well. The places were said to be horrible, devastating places. Most people with mage blood these days had little power if any. Those who knew their power had long since fled. There was some resistance, but not enough. By that point, many had begun to wonder about the measures, question them. But it was too late, and not enough were willing to stick their necks out for mages, it seemed.
That she could be part of this still didn’t seem real to Myra. She had never shown even the slightest pull towards magic or the like. She thought of Kiana again then and wanted to cry. Her eyes remained dry, exhausted with crying the night before.
The other military vehicles had peeled off, so it was only her and whoever was driving the van. She tried to engage, just for something to do.
“Where are you taking me?”
Silence.
“Are you sure there hasn’t been a mistake?”
Silence.
“I’ve never performed even the slightest bit of magic in my life, and I’m not likely to.”
Nothing.
“Please take me back.” She felt pathetic, but what else was there for it?
“Shut up,” came a gruff voice finally, and the partition grate between them slammed closed. Myra sunk back into herself, the slight effort taking all she had out of her.
And so they continued for many miles. Myra dropped in and out of sleep. Or something like it. She dreamed of being back at the circus. Kiana had gone and so they were making her do her act, despite her protests. They told her she was magic now, she’d be fine, and suddenly she was wearing the red dress and looking down at a hostile crowd from high, high on the tent.
“Go,” Aunt Elba urged from the platform. “You’re a mage now. You can do it.”
She looked at the thin strand of gold rope and gulped, knowing she had no other choice. She stepped onto it, and for a moment, she was stable. Then suddenly, the rope frayed and slackened, and she was falling down, down. From the platform, Aunt Elba laughed, Kiana beside her, tears streaming. Before she could feel any impact, she jolted awake in the carriage. They had stopped moving, and once more it was dark. The soldiers, just two of them now - she supposed the rest had split off with their bird to do some more mage-hunting - were sitting beside a fire, warming food and their hands. It was autumn now, and the cold crisp had settled in, though it was not winter in earnest yet. Beside her, she found another dry bread roll and the dish of water. As she ate, she gave the bars a rattle to feel their strength. They looked old, but they held fast.
She slumped down on the floor of the caravan and wished hard for something, anything to happen.
Late that night, well after the glowing embers of the soldiers’ small campfire had died out, Myra heard the crunching of leaves, and woke from her fitful sleep. She stayed very, very still and tried to make out any shape in the forest. All she could see were the looming, unforgiving figures of the ancient trees. An animal, perhaps? She looked at ground level. The crunching seemed to have stopped for a moment, but now it was advancing once more. She held her breath. Perhaps they’d be set upon by bandits right here, and she wouldn’t even have to worry about what fate awaited her in the workhouses. Part of her hoped for it, hoped for this to all be over.
Just when she was sure she had reached the point she no longer cared, she made out a hooded figure approaching. But it was rather small to be a bandit, maybe it was a child - or -
Kiana loomed out of the shadows before her, and it took everything for her not to scream at the shock of it. The emperor himself could have appeared and she would have been less surprised.
“What - how - are you doing here?” She was making little sense, but she didn’t care.
Kiana smiled weakly. “Surprise?”
Myra gaped at her friend dumbly. When she took a key out of the big cloak she was wearing, she couldn’t speak if she wanted to. And just like that she unlocked the padlock holding the caravan’s bars in place and freed her.
For a moment they just stared at each other, Myra in dumb shock, Kiana’s smile wavering slightly, uncertain. Then Myra jumped into her arms and it took all she had in her not to plant a fat kiss on her cheek. There was a moment then, between the elation of the jump and Kiana lowering her, quietly to the ground, where they both seemed to be caught in suspension, eye to eye, mouth to mouth. In that moment, it seemed that anything might be possible. Then Kiana planted her firmly on the ground and put a finger to her mouth to indicate quiet, and it was lost so that Myra wasn’t even sure it had taken place, to begin with.
With a last nervous glance at the sleeping soldiers, they slipped free and ran. Myra had no idea where, but Kiana seemed to know, taking them to a small footpath, where they were less likely to meet bandits or worse, soldiers.
“When are you going to explain to me what’s going on?” Myra said when they had gone far enough away from the soldiers that no one could hear but the night. The further they got away, the more questions she had.
“When we’re sitting somewhere warm and dry and far away from anyone,” she said.
They were in the middle of the forest, so that moment seemed rather far away.
“Do you have a plan?”
“Sure.”
“Do you have a plan beyond breaking me out?”
“Uh…kind of?” Kiana flashed her a winning smile.
They trudged on. Kiana seemed to be looking for something. She rushed up to a few trees then came back, shaking her head to herself. Myra frowned. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, yes,” she said distractedly.
The night seemed to stretch on forever. Finally, Kiana rushed over to her with a grin on her face. “Come.” She took Myra to a tree and just as she opened her mouth to ask what the hell was going on, she got onto her knees and climbed into its hollow.
A moment later, Myra followed her. “What on Earth are we doing here?”
“Hiding, obviously.”
It was pitch black and smelled strongly of earth and petrichor. The cold damp of the earth below her put Myra in mind of what creatures may be squirming in there with them, and she shuddered. And still, it was a hundred thousand times better than the back of the caravan.
“When I used to travel with my parents, if we got caught in a dangerous place after nightfall, we would find a tree just like this.”
Myra grew still in the dark. Kiana never spoke of her parents, or her life before the circus. “That must have been scary for a child.”
“Oh, no.” She laughed softly. “We made a game of it and curled up together. Father would tell the best stories on those nights and there would be nothing but the dark to distract us from one another.”
After a beat, Myra said, “Thank you. Thank you for everything.”
She felt Kiana move beside her, closer. “It was entirely selfish. How do you expect me to go on living without you?”
Myra didn’t answer. She was reminded of those times they were small when they had curled up together in the same bed. The closeness now felt just as important, yet very different. Suddenly a thought came to her and ruined it all.
“The key,” she realised. “Where on earth did you get the key from?”
Kiana shifted again. “Oh, that. Well, I have my own magic you know.” There was a note of bitterness in her voice, though not directed at her.
“A soldier?”
Silence. Myra realised then.
“Oh Ki…you shouldn’t have done that.”
She heard a shrug. “It was fine. Ten minutes, if that, behind the animal cages and I slipped it right off his belt. All the blood from their brains goes straight to their dicks if you can make it. I don’t regret it.”
She explained then how rather than give up and say goodbye to her in the caravan, as her aunt had done, she had immediately begun looking for a way to get her out. There were a few soldiers, she noticed, with rings of keys around their belts and several of the jail-caravans with similar-looking padlocks. She had picked the likeliest man and hoped to god they made all the padlocks the same. She had hoped to get her out that night, but her van had left early while the others hung around to make more arrests in the area.
And so, for a day and half the night, she had followed her.
“How?” Myra asked.
“If I’m honest, I’m not sure myself. Travelling around so much, navigation wasn’t too hard and I roughly know these woods. The caravan left tracks and after a while, I could differentiate them from any other tracks in the woods.”
She had met with fortunately little trouble on her way, the way likely having been cleared because criminals and bad types were unlikely to want to cross the soldiers. She had made it all sound rather easy, but Myra could hear the strain and tiredness in her voice.
“You’re amazing,” she whispered. “Are you sure you’re not the mage?”
Kiana inhaled.