“You are too young to remember the war that followed the Rift. Our New Faith was the only way to make people accept the new natural order of things. I saw which way the winds were blowing. Converting meant salvation, not just for me, but for all of us. We would’ve been rounded up with the others who were fighting to keep the old ways and the Old Faith.”
Mention of the Old Faith made her remember the golden chain with her mother’s crucifix and locket. She reflexively reached to her neck and found it missing. They must’ve confiscated it with the clothes. Her mother had died during childbirth, so only her father could’ve hidden it away in the basement. Why did he do that?
“Do you still believe in the old religion?” she asked.
“This world has been abandoned. The Cloud Lords rule us now and I follow their Dictates. The New Faith has brought order. It doesn’t matter that most of the older generation only pretends to believe. The younger generation doesn’t know any better and is much more malleable. With each succeeding generation, the New Faith will be accepted like any religion handed down from generation to generation.”
Chloe wanted to probe him further to find out about her mother and why he’d hidden her crucifix, but the sound of the key in the steel door interrupted the conversation. Her father regained his stern composure just as the deputy returned with some folded clothing. The deputy’s suspicious look showed he was on the verge of accusing her father of sympathizing with a witch.
Chloe’s father held up four outstretched fingers—the sign of dragon flame—and made a slow motion across his chest as he said, “I now consign you to the pyre, witch.”
The deputy made a sardonic smile to show that he didn’t believe the show, and then tossed Chloe the pile of clothing. “Here you go, witch! It ain’t pretty, but you won’t need anything fancy where you’re going.”
Her father walked past the deputy to the door and shot back a look full of sadness. It felt so strange to feel this quiet admission of love now, at the last possible moment. She’d yearned for some proof of his love all these years and to see a fleeting glimpse pained her all the more.
The constable followed her father, slamming the steel door shut. Once they’d gone, Chloe unfolded the clothing which turned out to be nothing more than an extremely simple dress and a pair of socks. The dress seemed to have been made from two worn out bed sheets sewn back to back. She slipped it up over her head, and it hung awkwardly from her shoulders. With her socks on, she sidled over to the barred window and looked out to the town square, which had once been a parking lot.
There were very few cars that worked anymore, and those that did required the extremely precious fuel, which was apportioned only to the military. Technically, motorized vehicles were against the Cloud Lord’s Dictates, but the governorship in which she lived also had to protect itself from the neighboring governorship which was under the control of the Night Flyers, another race of Cloud Lords who were universally reviled as demons by her fellow citizens. For whatever reason, the Cloud Lords turned a blind eye to the military’s use of vehicles, perhaps because the Night Flyers were a common enemy. Some speculated that the military only got away with it because they drove without headlights, and the rare vehicles went unnoticed from above. In any case, such vehicles were seldom seen in town, and thus young children often ran up to gawk at them. It was an excellent recruiting tool.
Across the square, she noticed a large pile of wood surrounding a tall iron post. Every so often, a child would appear from behind a building with either a log, an old board, or a branch in their hand and toss it onto the pile. Chloe understood that this pile of old wood was to be the fuel for her funeral pyre and her heart sank. This was just more evidence that there wouldn’t be any reprieve. The children seemed obsessed with fire, and she wondered if it had always been this way. Certainly, since the Cloud Lords had arrived, everyone feared the wrath of their fiery breath.
Behind the growing stack of wood for her funeral pyre, tents had been erected to collect the provisions for the next Ascension. The arrival of the coatl had signaled that her town was to send the balloons aloft with provisions and sacrifices. During an entire month, the surrounding farmers would deliver the provisions, whereas the sacrifices would only be chosen the night before launch. Ostensibly, it was an honor to be chosen, at least according to the New Faith. To be chosen was to receive the ‘Call’. But Chloe knew that the selection was carried out the night before to prevent families from finding a way to spirit their children to freedom in the event that they were chosen. Those who were married were spared from the selection process, which was why so many girls chose to marry immediately after turning seventeen. Others who became pregnant out of wedlock were also spared, but only until they’d given birth. Afterward, the child was given up for adoption, and the mother who’d been found guilty of attempting to avoid selection, was put on a balloon anyway. This threat had significantly reduced teen pregnancy. Some who chose to flee were declared traitors and faced the same punishment as witches. Most years, the town square witnessed one or two burnings.
However, the past two years had gone without any public burning, and Chloe wondered if the town wasn’t actually relieved to have a witch to punish. In fact, her generation had grown resigned to the obligations of Ascension. Some teenagers, a year or two younger, even seemed to look at being chosen as an honor. If the New Faith had been created as a politically expedient means of convincing the young to accept their fate, the propaganda had been successful. It seemed that if you could get people to follow something long enough, they would start to believe in it. Thinking about the New Faith made her realize that they’d taken her heirloom, her mother’s crucifix. That was her only attachment to the past, and without it, she’d lost her foundation.
Still exhausted, she crawled back onto the cot and pulled the blanket over her head. She was terrified of what tomorrow would bring, but her brain felt heavy—too tired and emotionally spent to even dream about escaping. When she closed her eyes, she fell asleep immediately.
5
THE CLANG OF THE STEEL CELL DOOR swinging open caused Chloe to bolt up in terror. Did I sleep through the night? Are they taking me to my funeral pyre?
“You’ve got another visitor,” Jarod said with an amused tone.
Lillian stepped inside the room, and Jarod closed the door behind her. It was the last person Chloe would’ve expected to come visit her. They’d never been friends.
“No, don’t get up,” Lillian said, “I won’t be here long.”
Not knowing what else to say, Chloe said, “Thank you for coming.”
“I don’t want to see you burn,” Lillian said. “If I thought my father could intervene on your behalf, I would try to persuade him to prevent it.”
Lillian’s words sunk in slowly. Finally, Chloe said, “I thought you hated me?”
“Have I ever done anything to hurt you? Yes, we both love Wayne. But, that’s no reason to be enemies. I see that as one of the things we share in common.”
Oddly, Chloe felt Lillian’s directness to be comforting. She understands why I love Wayne. She knows I’m losing more than my life. Finding an unexpected confident in Lillian, Chloe couldn’t help baring her soul. She told Lillian about how lost she’d felt over the years, and how Wayne had represented her hope of finding the emotional foundation she’d always desired.
Lillian listened patiently, and then asked, “And your power Chloe? How long have you had it?”
The question came as a surprise. Why does Lillian care about my power? Chloe had never spoken a word about it with anyone, and it felt strange knowing there was no reason to keep it a secret any longer.
“Since childhood,” Chloe said.
“Have you ever seen anything in your dreams that came to pass in real life?”
“I thought so,” Chloe said, “But I could never be sure if it was just coincidence.”
“Why haven’t you used your power to escape? Or to find others of your kind?”
&nbs
p; “It’s hardly worth calling a ‘power’. It’s not like I can bend bars or anything. And I’m not able to detect whether anyone else is a witch. You know how our townsfolk make a big deal out of nothing at all.”
Chloe thought she saw Lillian breathe a sigh of relief, and it puzzled her.
Lillian said, “I know your feelings for Wayne must seem comforting with death staring you in the face. But this is the only reality now. Try to be courageous and stare back at it without fear.”
Lillian’s matter-of-fact tone hit Chloe like a bucket of cold water. All of her emotion had been wasted upon Lillian who had only made a show of empathy. Why? Is she just being cruel? Or did she want to pry some information out of me?
“Maybe this is for the best,” Lillian continued. “As our faith tells us, all things happen for a reason. I know you love Wayne. But he’s destined to be with me. We’re to be married, and I can see that you’d be foolish enough to spend the rest of your years pining for him. Maybe a quick end is better than a life of frustration and regret.”
Lillian knocked on the steel door to signal for Jarod to let her out, and seconds later, his boots could be heard echoing upon the concrete floor outside. When Jarod’s key turned in the lock, Lillian turned to Chloe and said earnestly, “I know how hard it is to keep a secret.”
Chloe felt too beaten down to respond before Lillian exited. She didn’t even have the emotional strength to resent Lillian’s visit. She closed her eyes and tried to calm her thoughts. Did Lillian only come to gloat? What did she mean by saying she knew ‘how hard it is to keep a secret’? When the bottle first seemed to have stopped, it then rolled over to her. It hadn’t been obvious, but maybe there was something unnatural about how it happened. Was she a witch too?
Chloe mulled over the possibilities. Lillian’s visit had come across like a confession. If only she knew the truth. It would’ve been wonderful to know that she wasn’t the only one cursed with this power. In fact, although the town professed to hate witches, most of those who’d been burned were only accused of witchcraft for political reasons. They were the holdouts who’d been practicing the old religion, and the burnings were used as an example of what happens to apostates. Chloe realized that if she hadn’t been born with her power, she would’ve doubted the very existence of witches.
If Lillian had the same power, it was grossly unfair for her to escape the same punishment and also wind up with Wayne. She would be horrible for him, Chloe told herself. And it’s not because I’m jealous. Wayne has everything in common with me. She tried to comfort herself with that thought, even though she wanted the best for Wayne. After several hours of rumination, she fell into a troubled sleep.
When she awoke, night had fallen. It would’ve been pitch black if not for the faint moonlight. Feeling rested and more alert, panic engulfed Chloe. She had to remind herself that there was nothing she could do. Her only hope would be for a chance to ask for an appeal tomorrow. She’d never known of one to be granted, but she couldn’t stop clinging to the possibility. Can there be any other way? If only there was somewhere out of reach of the Night Patrol.
Even if she could get out of prison, she could never escape the sheriff’s mounted posse. And as she thought about other possibilities, she mused about escaping with the very balloons created for the Ascension. The balloons themselves were decorated with symbols of muscular gods and dragons that represented the Cloud Lords that ruled above. The huge wicker baskets were always heavily loaded with supplies. If she could get out of the prison, perhaps she could hide in an empty sack or crate.
Those selected by the town to be sent skyward were never heard from again. Over the years, the children of the town had come up with several macabre explanations, including the supposition that the Cloud Lords feasted upon human flesh. However, Chloe felt that whatever waited above could be no worse than being burned alive.
As she was dreaming about escaping up into the clouds on a balloon, the rattle of keys on the steel door startled her. She turned, expecting to find the deputy, but discovered Wayne instead. He had her confiscated clothing in his arms.
Chloe’s heart leapt, and her face lit up with an enormous smile. Surprised, Wayne smiled back.
“I didn’t expect to find you in such good humor,” he said.
She threw her arms around him and said, “I thought you were on probation.”
“Worse than that…demoted,” he grumbled. “The others sang like canaries. They told the Commission that I was at the party, but since I didn’t get caught during the escape, there remains some doubt. Besides, our sentences may be commuted to some lesser punishment since Lillian was there, and the mayor doesn’t want his daughter to be caned. The best thing is that no one suspects that I helped you, so I was able to keep my keys for the cells.”
“What about Jarod?” Chloe asked.
“I was able to convince Jarod to share a drink with me. I brought some moonshine my uncle brews, and even though it’s against the rules, he couldn’t resist the opportunity. I think he wanted to gloat. He’s got incredibly low self-esteem and has always resented the fact that the constable puts more faith in me. But the guy could never hold his alcohol. And I guess the fact that I dissolved some sleeping pills in the bottle didn’t help him either. He’s out for the night.”
The news was reassuring to Chloe. Now, I don’t have to worry about that little creep trying to rape me in my sleep.
“Get your clothes on,” Wayne said.
“I’m in no hurry to dress for the pyre,” Chloe said, “but I appreciate your trying to save my dignity.”
“Who says you’re going to the pyre? I came to get you out of here.”
She should’ve guessed that Wayne was coming to her rescue when he entered, holding her clothes. But an escape with Wayne hadn’t even crossed her mind, mainly because she would never dream of seeing him put his own life in danger for her own—unless this was the proof of his love that she’d always hoped for.
“Don’t do this…you’re risking everything. No one has ever helped a witch escape, and you know that traitors are executed.”
She needed to hear him say that he was risking everything because he loved her.
“I couldn’t stand by and watch while they burned my best friend,” he said, handing her the clothing. “Get dressed while I wait outside.”
The phrase ‘best friend’ sunk into her consciousness like a stone falling into an abyss. As she got dressed, she reflected that it might be best to call off the escape. It wasn’t worth Wayne’s life to take such a risk if he didn’t love her. And as far as she was concerned, without love, her soul was as doomed as a castle on a foundation of quicksand. She might never fix the loneliness that made her feel broken. Why run when there’s nothing waiting for me?
Yet, a last glimmer of hope rebelled inside her. If she went on the run with Wayne, they’d be alone together. There’d be no going back. He would come to realize that she was more than his ‘best friend’, and he’d sacrificed his future because he loved her. And, surely that love would grow into something greater.
That, Chloe told herself, would be something worth running toward—something worth risking one’s life for. One thing was certain. If she didn’t escape with him, she’d never have the opportunity to find out.
6
CHLOE ADMIRED WAYNE’S HANDLING of their escape as they rode through the night. On several occasions, he led both horses through shallow stream beds. First he would trot forward a certain distance, and then he somehow managed to coax the horses to backtrack in reverse, before finally entering the stream. From there, they would ride up the stream bed for at least a quarter-mile, then exit and continue on their way. This was just one of several tricks he used to throw off the hounds and their human masters. At one stop, he took out a jar of dried cayenne peppers that he’d possessed the foresight to bring along. Using a rock, he crushed the peppers into the fabric of an old shirt. He dropped the shirt onto the trail.
“They always use
an article of clothing to put the hounds on the scent,” he said. “When the dogs get a whiff of this, their noses will be out of commission for a good twenty-four hours.”
“It won’t hurt them, will it?” Chloe asked.
“Nah,” he said, “they won’t get a full nose of hot pepper, just enough to give them a very, runny nose. Besides, you’re not going to tell me you’d rather get burned at the stake?”
He’s got a point, she realized. A little discomfort for the dogs meant the difference between her own life and death. They’d put as much distance as possible between themselves and the sheriff’s men. Wayne had told her that they wouldn’t rest until absolutely necessary. Fortunately, he had stolen the two fittest horses among the herd. At some point though, they would have to hole up and recuperate. The sun was rising, and she was already feeling exhausted. She’d never ridden for hours before. It made the muscles in her thighs and buttocks sore in a way that she’d never even imagined possible. She would’ve felt sorry for the horses, if her own body wasn’t already riddled with pain.
“Do you feel that?” Wayne asked, squinting at the rising sun.
“Feel what?”
“The wind,” he said, “It only ever blows from one direction at once. But I could swear that it has been blowing from two opposite directions.”
“You’re right,” Chloe said, astonished that she hadn’t noticed it herself. “And it’s giving me a headache to get it in both ears at the same time.”
“Bizarre,” he muttered, “It’s blowing from the east and the west. If this keeps up, we’ll be getting the worst of it the closer we get to the mountains.” He smiled. “But on the bright side, it’ll also confuse the hell out of the hounds.”
Riding onwards, they encountered numerous dust devils whipped up by the conflicting winds. Chloe wondered, If the wind gets any stronger, are we going to see tornadoes?
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