The Unblessed Dead

by Rhiannon Frater

  Across from me, Aunt Leticia is huddled on her tower but, unlike Carrie, she’s watching the Unblessed. There is a very loud group surrounding her tower banging on the metal sheeting. My aunt regards them with a blank expression. I suspect she’s trying not to show fear.

  On the platform behind her, Elder Alvis lounges on his witness bench while chatting and laughing with the wardens. I never thought I’d see the man laugh. The desire to punish him for hurting my loved ones is so strong it makes my hands tremble. I wish with all my heart the Unblessed would hurt him.

  Below me, several Unblessed turn to look toward the chuckling men. A few break off from the group and head in the direction of Elder Alvis with swift, jerking strides.

  Don’t, Ilyse! Pull you anger inside yourself. Don’t feed it into the dead. Imagine a hole in the ground and bury it inside.

  I’m sorry!

  Just do it! Visualize it! Make it happen.

  I close my eyes, imagine the well in our garden, and envision pouring molten lava from a bucket into the darkness below.

  Good. Keep doing that.

  Squeezing my eyelids shut, I sink to the floor of the platform and keep the image in my head. Gradually, I feel the heat of anger dissipating. I don’t stop until I feel lightheaded. When I open my eyes, I see the swarming Unblessed below me clawing at each other to reach the towers. The ones that peeled off have rejoined the chaos. None appear to be obeying a silent summons.

  You did a good job. You can do this.

  I’m still scared.

  I know.

  Maybe it’s the way his words sound inside my head or maybe it’s my imagination, but Quade’s words seem to reveal his own fear. I’m not a fool. I know how precarious my situation is since I have no idea how to wield my abilities, which is obvious from how I nearly sent some Unblessed after Elder Alvus. I’m glad Quade’s my witness. If not for him, I would have already revealed myself.

  “Ilyse, don’t be afraid. The shielding at the bottom will keep them from toppling the tower,” my father says, his voice breaking through my dark thoughts. “They’ve improved the test since you last took it.”

  I turn my head to see he’s moved along the catwalk to be closer to me. Hands clutching the rail in front of him, he bends over as far as he can so I can hear him. Behind him, Quade leans back against the far rail, arms folded across his chest, watching.

  “I thought women only had to take the test once,” I reply.

  Tears prick at my eyes. The stench from below is nearly overwhelming and my stomach trembles with nausea.

  “Ilyse, fear drives people to foolish decisions,” my father answers. “They’ve been rewriting the rules on how to deal with necromancers since the Bridgeport Settlement was destroyed. They’re very, very afraid.”

  The moans of the Unblessed grow louder as my father speaks.

  “It’s not fair, Father.”

  Watching me with sorrow, my father says, “No, it’s not fair.”

  It’s strange to hear those words come from my father. He is an adamant supporter of the Lost Texts and the laws based on them. To have him admit that the Elders have done something unjust is surprising.

  “This is cruel,” Quade interjects over the increasing noise of the Unblessed.

  My father agrees with a bob of his head. “Perhaps, but what happened to Bale has only driven the Elders further into their paranoia. When Bale was reported missing, there were grave concerns that we might be dealing with a criminal element. There have been some instances of thievery in the settlement. There was a serious investigation underway to uncover the thief and possible murderer when your friend made her accusation against you. After that the Elders were swept into hysteria.”

  I should have confessed, Quade, and spared everyone.

  You heard them, Ilyse. They would have forced your aunt and sister into the test anyway. Especially if you’d confessed. They’re on a witch hunt.

  My father’s fingers flex around the metal railing in an agitated manner. “Ilyse, your mother was powerful. When I saw what she could do, I understood why necromancers must be…dealt with swiftly and without mercy. Your mother understood that truth, too. She was brave and took the poison without complaining.”

  I stare at him stunned, understanding for the first time that father stood by and allowed the Elders to execute my mother. A stabbing pain in my chest makes it hard to breathe. How could he betray her like that?

  He continues: “I know that all three of you are innocent. I’ve never seen in you what I saw in her. All the warnings. All the hints. I believe in you. Don’t be afraid. You’ll be found innocent. I promise.”

  His words are meaningless because they’re not true. Of course, he doesn’t know that, but I do. He missed all the warnings and hints he spoke of in me. Carrie was right about my father and me. Once we decide something, we develop severe tunnel vision. My father obviously decided that my mother was an outlier and that the rest of the women of his family weren’t like her. How will he react when he realizes he was wrong about me? Staring at his stricken expression, I wonder if he would stand by and watch them execute me, too, without trying to interfere.

  Below me the Unblessed start to howl.

  Calm down, Ilyse. You’re stirring them up again.

  I force myself to say, “Thank you, Father. Your words are a comfort.”

  With a short nod, he departs.

  Closing my eyes, I imagine the well in the garden again. In my vision, I stand with my bucket filled with hot lava, but I can’t tip it over. My anger is raw and painful, throbbing in my chest. My father let them kill my mother. How can I let that go?

  The Unblessed writhe around the tower and I feel it shuddering under my feet. The harness digs into my waist, the weight of the chains pulling on me. The discomfort shakes me from my vision and I stare down at the Unblessed. The reach for me with dry, shriveled hands that resemble claws.

  Ilyse…you need to-

  I mute Quade’s voice in my head. I have a right to feel the way I do. How can I ignore the injustice? Instead of pouring my anger into the dark place inside myself, I let it flow into the Unblessed. They pound harder on the tower, desperate now to reach me.

  I killed Bale to protect myself. I regret my actions not only for taking his life, but because Carrie and Aunt Leticia have to suffer. If I alone was accused, I’d probably confess but Quade is right. A confession would put even more scrutiny on my family. I have to somehow find a way to keep myself from revealing myself not just to save my own life but those of the women I love. None of the Nott women are truly safe in Atonement Settlement, and probably never will be.

  They’re certainly not safe from my father.

  Stop it!

  At first I think my aunt has screamed at me from across the corral but then the truth dawns on me. Clutching the edge of her tower, she stares at me with an intensity that is truly frightening.

  Stop it, Ilyse, or you’ll doom us all!

  My anger dissolves into disbelief.

  It’s increasingly clear that all I believed about my life was lies.

  Chapter 13

  The Verdict

  My aunt’s words echo in my mind.

  Staring across the expanse between us, I understand so much about her that I didn’t before. All this time she’s been living with the curse of our bloodline and hiding it from the world. I’ve barely been able to keep the secret these last few weeks without falling apart. This explains why she’s always been so strict with us and distant. My vision blurs with tears and I wipe them away with trembling fingers.

  Restrain yourself and we might just survive this, Ilyse.

  Why didn’t you say something, Aunt Leticia?

  I wasn’t certain. Now I am. Which is dangerous for all of us. Look away from me and act like a normal girl facing this awful test.

  I sense her cutting me off. It feels like a door shutting inside my mind. It’s a strange sensation. I don’t like it much. I keep my eyes away from her and stare d
own at the Unblessed churning about at the base of my tower. I’m glad for the shadows. It makes their grotesque faces not so ghastly.

  Carrie is silent on her tower. Curled into a tight ball, she has her eyes squeezed shut. Her face looks so pale in the dim lighting and I wish I could console her. I attempt to reach out to her like my aunt did to me but I don’t feel there is a door between us to open. I can’t explain it any other way. I’m both relieved and disappointed. Perhaps Carrie hasn’t inherited the necromancy curse or maybe it just hasn’t manifested yet. I hope she’s free of it. She deserves to live a life without constant dread.

  I adjust the heavy harness around my torso, and sit cross-legged in the center of the platform. I search for my father, curious about what he’s doing. I spot him on the other side of the cavernous room talking to Elder Alvus. They’re arguing, but I can’t hear their words.

  Movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention. It’s Quade leaning over the railing to stare at the Unblessed. Ashamed at my earlier behavior, I let him back into my thoughts.

  Sorry.

  For not having any instruction, you’re good at shutting me out. You’re a natural, which is good and bad.

  My aunt is one of us. Did you know?

  Quade rubs his fingers over his goatee, his eyes growing thoughtful. No, I did not. That is an interesting development. Did she speak to you?

  When I cut you off, she did.

  You forced her to act when you were stirring up the Unblessed like that.

  Sorry.

  You’re young. You’ll learn, Ilyse.

  If I survive this.

  You will.

  A loud claxon rings out. The Unblessed howl in response. I grab onto the rail and take a deep breath. I know what comes next.

  The tower shudders beneath me as one level of the scaffolding folds, lowering the platform. The metal squeals and the gears protest. Carrie’s shrill screams echo around me. As we sink closer to the Unblessed, they become even more agitated. The tower continues to shake after the mechanism lowering the platform comes to a stop. The Unblessed know their prey is nearer to their reach now.

  The smell is awful. I can barely keep from retching. Closer to the ground of the corral, the air is thick, humid, and dense with the scent of decay. The cries of the dead are louder than before. I dare to peek over the edge of the platform and estimate how much room is left before their hands will be able to grip the edge.

  Twelve feet.

  I cover my mouth with the collar of my dress and press my forehead against my knees. This is more terrible than I remembered. Perhaps time stole away the worst of my memories.

  There is a commotion near Carrie’s tower. My father is being forced to sit on the witness bench by two wardens.

  “You’re a witness! Stay there! You cannot visit with the women being tested!” a warden shouts at him. “Don’t make us secure you!”

  “Father! Father!” Carrie sobs. She stretches her hands out toward him. “Tell them to let me go! Tell them!”

  The raised voices only provoke the Unblessed and their cries sound like a roar. In the pit of my stomach, the raw fury begins to build again as I listen to my distraught sister. I clench my eyes shut and press my face against my knees. My fingers dig into my ankles as I rock back and forth. I have to control myself and not reveal the truth for her sake, my aunt’s, and my own.

  This is inhumane.

  I don’t answer Quade. It’s taking all my willpower to not scream a confession. I hate hearing Carrie’s cries. My aunt calls out to her but Carrie is inconsolable. I suspect if I look at Elder Alvus, he’ll be smiling.

  I start to count the seconds in my mind. Each minute ticking past is torture. I stop when I reach an hour.

  The claxon rings.

  The tower shudders.

  We’re lowered again.

  The smell worsens.

  The howls grow louder.

  Carrie’s screams are hoarse, yet shrill.

  This is different from before. The process is accelerated. Angelina and I stood on the old platforms for over a day. I’d fallen asleep standing upright. My father told me a few years after Angelina went over the wall and a woman died from shock that the test was revised to be more humane but that’s a lie. It’s even more terrifying. There is less time to acclimate every time the tower is lowered.

  When I do finally look at Elder Alvus, he is smiling.

  The night wears on.

  Thirst and hunger become new torments.

  My bladder hurts from the need to go.

  I remember Angelina hoisting her skirts and urinating in plain sight of the witnesses and elders. I’m not so brave. I clench my legs together and try to ignore the need.

  Carrie continues to beg for release.

  “Please, please, Father. Tell them I’m innocent. Please!”

  The litany makes all of this more unbearable. I guiltily remember doing the exact same thing. Angelina had begged for me to stop and implored me to be strong. I’d failed her. I wasn’t strong then and I’m not strong now. I try to block out my younger sister’s wails by pressing my palms against my ears and humming to myself. Her cries are worse than those of the Unblessed. The only way I can help her is to fight to contain my necromancy and not implicate all three of us.

  The hours tick on.

  The towers descend.

  Carrie finally falls silent. When I lift my head to check on her, she’s staring down at the undead a few feet below her and ignoring my father as he attempts to console her from the witness bench.

  Meanwhile, my aunt sits with her back to Elder Alvus with her eyes closed. She hasn’t whispered into my mind again and I wonder if she’s struggling to contain her powers.

  Quade sits on the witness bench, arms folded over his chest. I’ve heard him snore a few times but he awakens immediately. Though the witnesses are allowed to leave to eat, drink water, and use the bathroom, Quade hasn’t moved from the witness bench. I suspect he’s determined to stay at my side as long as I have to endure the Necromancer Trial.

  The night wears on. I doze a few times. I dream of falling off the tower and into the mass of the Unblessed. I wake up instantly, gasping, terrified, and lean over the edge of the platform to make certain they cannot reach me.

  Their hands are closer. Ever closer.

  I run the tips of my fingers over the scars covering my feet and ankles. When the Unblessed had seized me those many years ago, the wardens had come to my rescue. The harness had kept me secured to the tower but I had deep bruises and a broken rib from nearly being pulled off. I’d been sick for weeks afterwards. My wounds had been infected by the dead flesh and the doctors had worked diligently to save not only my life but my feet. I remember when I took my first step months later and my father had wept with relief. Will the wardens come again if the Unblessed seize us? I look over my shoulder at Elder Alvus chatting with a warden and wonder.

  It’s hard not to cry when fear has such a fierce grip of my senses and everything is amplified: sight, sound, touch, and smell.

  The tower trembles continuously beneath me. The Unblessed beat their hands against the metal sheets protecting the base. The raucous wears at my nerves and I find it increasingly difficult not to give into my fears and attempt to send them away.

  The seventh hour passes and the claxon rings.

  Again the towers descend, metal squealing. The tower beneath me shudders not only from the gears grinding but the continued onslaught of the Unblessed. My tower ceases its descent. I cannot help but look down at the decayed hands just two feet below me.

  When do they stop lowering it, Ilyse?

  When they believe we’re innocent, Quade.

  There is a long pause.

  Do you mean when the dead hurt you?

  Sometimes.

  The groan of metal grinding against metal reverberates through the vast room. It’s not my tower though. I look toward Carrie’s tower to see that the Unblessed are swarming around the bottom. At fir
st I don’t see why, then I spot what’s causing the heinous sound. The Unblessed have torn away the shielding around the base of the tower. They pour through the opening seeking flesh and blood only to flounder into the mechanism controlling the scaffolding.

  “Stop them!” I scream, pointing.

  At first the wardens don’t seem to understand. My position allows me to see what they cannot. They glance at the Unblessed howling at Carrie, but then look away.

  Quade, do you see it? They’re in the base where the gears are!

  Damn! I do!

  Quade rushes along the catwalk, gesturing toward the base of Carrie’s tower. “They broke into bottom of the tower! Get her off there!”

  Raising her head, Carrie stares at me in confusion. Her eyes are red and puffy from crying and her lips are pale with fear.

  “Don’t move, Carrie! The wardens will get you!” I shout at her.

  “Get her off there!” Aunt Leticia screams. “Harris, save her!”

  The scaffolding holding up the platform buckles a second later. The tower descends abruptly, smashing the Unblessed thrashing around the mechanism. Instantly, the undead besiege my sister. Their fingers grip the edge of the platform just above their heads, shaking it violently.

  “Get to the center of the platform!” Quade shouts at her.

  Carrie scrambles to stand, her hands holding onto the railing to keep her upright. A few Unblessed are tall enough to almost reach her feet. Their clawed fingers rake at her slippers.

  “Why aren’t you saving her?” I scream at the wardens.

  The young men are panicking. A few attempt to beat back the Unblessed with long spears, while others rush to move the gangway. Elder Alvus watches from across the corral with a stern look upon his face. I don’t see concern in his gaze but interest.

  To my horror, I realize Carrie’s tower is off-balance due to the crushed Unblessed mucking up the mechanism. The tilt doesn’t seem quite so bad until several Unblessed grab onto the metal bars holding up the railing and start to pull. Carrie shrieks as the platform starts to list. She scrambles onto the higher railing, straddling it with her legs so she can tenuously perch on it. The gangway slowly moves downward toward her position, but it’s clear the situation is devolving too fast.