He left her frozen there, his fingers alighting on the door as Marta silently wondered why he did not just kill her now and be done with it. Her brother was no Listener, even though his silver pin denoted otherwise, but he paused at the threshold nonetheless.
“Because you may still have a song to sing, Sister. Because hate is easy, love is hard, and indifference the most difficult. And despite all my power, I am still not strong enough to be indifferent towards you.”
The door shut softly behind him, her brother gone and Marta released from his mental grip. She collapsed back upon the ground, the weight of her state crushing her. Oleander was dead and her home lost. She had no family, no future anymore.
Finally, Marta cried, racking sobs that came from down in her core, her soul sick and trying desperately to expel the poison. And with her tears the last tatters of her tenderness and sympathy left her body; the last of her remaining humanity evaporating there on her cheeks.
She cried until she finally went dry.
Chapter 34
Winterfylled 25, 567
Though the ley headache pounded through her brain like a rockslide, Marta did not care as she clutched Caddie close. Luca said the line was nearly 200 miles long, so they prolonged their journey by adjusting the throttle and cutting their speed to a third. They knew they could not remain on the train when it reached its terminus at the Taloapus nodus where it connected up to the Cache line. Messages along the Dobra network traveled faster than their train, and Newfield troops would certainly be waiting for them there, but until they disembarked they could at least enjoy the ride despite the headaches.
Luca and Isabelle initially stared at Marta when she arrived in the inhuman Armor. Luca held his tongue at first, but eventually the silence was too much for the man. “We are truly blessed by Sol! That was like the fables of old. Gerjet, you were like Gerjet then!”
“Then does that make you my faithful dog, Baas?”
Marta aimed for a laugh with her retort, but found nothing humorous about her strange Armor. Luca’s thoughts may have turned to the heroic Gerjet, but Marta’s mind sought the stories of the Shaper Ernot. He was a terrible tyrant, said to be the consort of the fiendish Waer, whom he derived his unnatural Shaper abilities from. Ernot’s Armor was no slow and ponderous thing like most Shapers, rather swift and vicious while protecting him from sword thrusts the same as any knight’s metal armor would. The day before this Marta would have chided herself for having even entertained a children’s tale like that, would have scowled at Luca’s talk of Sol taking a hand in their fate.
She had seen the Black Breath with her own eyes though, and had watched it emerge from Underhill’s body like some awful moth shedding its cocoon. The memory of it still sent shivers down her spine, and she clutched Caddie closer as if she could somehow protect the child from horrors such as these.
Marta must not have been minding her thoughts, because Luca said, “Ernot was a vile man, one of Waer’s willing lovers. You may have darkness in you, Marta Childress, but there is some light as well, no matter how you try and hide it.”
He again fell silent, only the whoosh of the turbines disturbing the stillness as they rode the next hour. Graff could still be watching them through his Blessed Breath, but it did not matter. They would jump from the train soon, far from his reach to continue their march east. The only question was where to disembark.
Their answer came around midnight in the form of the Old Channel Lake. Though they had no clock by which to mark the hour, it felt like a new day when they reached the boundary between West and East Neider. Somewhere below resided the invisible Mueller Line separating the West from East, and they passed over it without ever knowing when exactly.
Marta slowed the train again until it was scarcely crawling, waiting until they were almost to the Eastern edge of the lake before she scooped Caddie into her arms and jumped. The cold of the water washed the last remains of the ley headache away as she reached the shore. The last of the West was washed away as well when Marta stepped upon Eastern soil, Caddie’s hand still in hers. Marta felt strange holding her such. Though she had often grasped the girl to direct her, this was the first time she did not believe she needed to just to make the girl move.
As they cleared the water, Luca and Isabelle not far behind them, Marta realized she had never told Caddie her name. The girl might have heard it from Luca’s lips, but Marta could not be sure, so she decided it was time for a proper introduction. Hunkering down beside the sopping child, Marta took her hand again.
“I’m Marta Childress, and I’m going to take you to see your father.”
Caddie stared back as dumbly as Marta had expected, but she also thought the girl grasped her hand a bit tighter. It was a step, but it was not yet quite enough for the woman.
“Now you need to introduce yourself to me. Go on, Caddie.”
For a moment it looked like the girl would react, her mouth twitching as if to speak, but it faded as quickly as it began. Marta was not upset since what she had seen already was more progress from the child than she had ever expected. She was ready to straighten back up when she noticed Luca’s bewildered stare.
“Ask her this time.”
Marta thought the moment had already passed, Caddie only peeking her head out of her shell before retreating again, but Luca had earned her trust this night, and so she did as he said.
“Will you say hello, Caddie?”
“Caddie,” the girl chirped, Marta unsure if she was answering her question or simply echoing the last word she heard. But it still felt momentous as the three surrounded her solemnly.
Marta decided such a big step deserved something to commemorate it, her thumb rubbing at her woven ring. It would be a dear gift to give up, but Marta had already parted with it twice before as she slipped the ring from her finger to place it on Caddie’s.
“I’m very proud of you, Caddie, very pleased that you are here with me. You are a single gleaming gold strand in a world of dull silver.”
If the girl treasured the gift, her face showed no sign, but she did not take her eyes from it as she slowly walked away. No one had told her where Ceilminster and her father resided, but Caddie plotted a path for the city sure as any compass.
Luca shot Marta a strange look before falling into step behind Caddie, Isabelle beside him as silent as a shadow. Alone, Marta watched them go, wondering if all four of them would be lucky enough reach their destination.
They were more than halfway there, Marta realized, Ceilminster only a few weeks away even on foot. Unfortunately, this half was made up of Covenant sympathizers who would happily slit her throat if they spied her traitor’s brand, but that would not stop her as she hurried to catch up to the other three.
She had commemorated the child’s progress with her own cherished ring, and so Marta reckoned her adult companions deserved something to mark the moment as well. Their reward came in the bottle Carmichael had gifted her with. It was originally meant as an insult, so she could not think of something more fitting to share with the agents he sent to aid her on her quest. Marta took the first swig of harsh whiskey before handing it on to Luca. The man delighted in the drink, taking a big swallow before handing it on to Isabelle. The half-Ingios woman took two pulls to his one before passing it back to Marta. And so they shared Carmichael’s bounty between them.
As they headed on Luca examined his stolen fiddle. In time the wood might still warp from being dunked in the lake, but for now it was a fine instrument, especially considering what he had paid for it. He ignored the bow, instead plucking the strings with his fingertips. His first cord was the opening to “Joy and Ease,” but he did not reach the second stanza before Marta cut him off.
“Not that one. Play us something more fitting.”
“Like what?”
The first strains of “The Sun Rises in the East” escaped Marta’s lips before she was aware they were there. She had not sung since her capture, her voice as unfamiliar as a stranger’
s. Soon Luca joined in with his makeshift mandolin, Marta’s tune strained, but serviceable. She might not sing like a mudbird anymore, but she certainly resembled one in her shabby state.
Families belong together,” her father said at the start. She had not seen her family in over nine years, nine years of no one except for her hateful brother. Their family was no healthy thing, but it did not make her father any less right in his assessment.
Her thumb rubbed the space on her finger where her ring recently resided, and Marta decided it would have a happier home on Caddie’s hand. In a way the girl reminded her of the damaged nation of Newfield. Both had gone through terrible trials, each left savaged and nearly crippled by their ordeals. The damage left deep scars, but if Caddie could make progress, perhaps there was hope for Newfield as well. Not long ago Marta had thought the nation a dying beast not long for the world, but perhaps it too could heal from its wounds and make its way whole again.
There would be no hope for Newfield if the Covenant Sons had their way though. Working with Orthoel Hendrix, they would usher a second Grand War, and such an outcome would be the death knell of the nation, no chance remaining for it after that. So to ensure its safety, Orthoel Hendrix would have to die by Marta’s hands.
It was true she now cared for Caddie, the girl’s improvement in their short time together inspiring her hope for the nation of Newfield again. And for that reason Marta would soon have to shatter all that headway by killing the girl’s father. Peace could not be sustained while Orthoel Hendrix lived, Marta decided. She also swore she would do her best to ensure Caddie did not witness the murder of her father by the woman she had chosen as her protector. Marta would be quick and merciful about his assassination for the girl’s sake.
She was not a monster after all.
Acknowledgments
To my family and friends, whose personalities I plundered mercilessly as I created my characters. To Sotiris, who offered some early encouragement, and to Will, who refused to tell me what I wanted to hear. To Ashish, whose notes and advice proved invaluable. And finally to my grammar guru Chris, whom will discover firsthand what an aneurism feels like when I say he made all my words sound real good.
About the Author
Never passing up the opportunity to speak about himself in the third person, M.D. Presley is not nearly as clever as he thinks he is. Born and raised in Texas, he spent several years on the East Coast and now waits for the West Coast to shake him loose. His favorite words include defenestrate, callipygian, and Algonquin. The fact that monosyllabic is such a long word keeps him up at night.
For more stories within the world of Ayr, please visit his website: www.mdpresley.com
The Woven Ring (Sol's Harvest Book 1) Page 32