[An Epic Fantasy 01.0] Skip

by Perrin Briar

  “Okay, Mother,” she said. “I’ll marry him. Maybe I can convince him to let me travel a little more.”

  “Good girl. You won’t regret this. Mark my words. You will be happy and live out your days in luxury. These thoughts of travelling will disappear and you can focus on what’s really important: raising a family and taking care of your husband.”

  “Yes, mother,” Jera said with a sad smile.

  Her mother stepped across the floorboards toward the ladder.

  “Are you coming down?” Lady Wythnos said.

  “In a minute. I’d like to stay here a little longer.”

  “All right. But don’t spend too long up here. I don’t trust this floor.”

  Lady Wythnos grabbed hold of the ladder and began to climb down.

  Chapter Ten

  Jera sat on a child’s chair and watched as the sun crept ever closer to the horizon. It was just beginning to turn dark, in that moment when the birds stopped singing and the world was overcome with peace.

  Jera picked up a handful of damp leaves and stuffed them into the carving that made up her name that signed her list of things to achieve before adulthood, and when she stepped back, her name looked like it was never there.

  She crossed to the edge of the platform and threw her legs over the side, stepping on the first rung of the ladder. She paused when she heard voices. And then the snap of twigs and foliage below. The voices became louder and clearer as they passed beneath her.

  “Do you think they’ll go for it?”

  “Of course they will – look at us. How could they resist?”

  “They’re putty in our hands.”

  “But what if they get suspicious?”

  “Then it’ll be a mighty short honeymoon.”

  Their accents were guttural and rough, like something Jera only ever heard while passing the rougher sections of town in the carriage.

  “What about the old man? He’s whimpering and simpering and going on like he might try to back out.”

  “The time for backing out’s past. If he’s going to have second thoughts he should have had them before he came to us.”

  “Come on, let’s get this farce over with. The sooner we get hitched to these so-called ladies the sooner we can shove off and never set foot in this backwater. You know what? When I own this kingdom, that’s going to be the first thing I do. Name this forsaken rock ‘Backwater’ and blow up that awful black building an’ all. It’s ruining my tan sittin’ in its shade all day.”

  “What was all that stuff with tying the ribbon?”

  “Ladies like it. They think it’s sensual or something.”

  “You’re shameless.”

  “Don’t knock what works.”

  “You’re shameless.”

  “My one’s not gonna be a lot of fun, I can tell you that. You’ll have to watch yourself with your one. She looks like a bit of a live wire.”

  “I think I can handle her. I wish I could get to handle yours.”

  “Why didn’t you warn me she was the ice queen?”

  “I figured you wouldn’t have come otherwise. Would it have made any difference?”

  “I suppose not. Why is it you always get the beautiful fun ones? Next time I get the fun one.”

  “That’s just the luck of the draw. She’s got a nice body at least. Unlike Beverly Craddock. Do you remember her?”

  “Don’t even bring her up. She’s like a splinter in my mind.”

  “A fat splinter.”

  The two men chuckled.

  “What makes you think there’s going to be a next time? This might be it forever.”

  “Don’t say that. I can’t be stuck with her forever and a day.”

  “I suppose it’ll never come to that.”

  “Do you think they suspect anything?”

  “Would they still be marrying us if they did? I don’t think so. All we’ve got to do is keep ‘em sweet till next month. We’ll be husbands and wives, and then the old man’ll have nothin’ to complain about.”

  “Keep your voice down. Somebody will hear us.”

  Jera pressed her body against the tree trunk.

  “Sh. Wait,” one of the voices said. “Did you hear that?”

  There was a pause.

  “Hear what?”

  Somewhere deep in the woods an owl screeched.

  “You’re putting me on edge, saying stuff like that.”

  “Better safe than sorry.”

  “We can’t talk in the house, where else can we talk?”

  Their voices became indistinct again as they walked across the forest floor toward her house. They passed into a thick curtain of moonlight.

  Jera got a look at the two men. They were of similar height, one wide and large, the other sleight and wiry. Her breath caught in her throat.

  They each wore a suit. One white, one blue.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jera waited in the treehouse until well after Richard and Gregory had gone inside. The sun had set and she was cold, but more than that she was scared. She wasn’t quite sure what she’d heard.

  She picked up a stick that had fallen from the upper reaches of the canopy. She snapped the excess twigs off and peeled the bark off the end. She began etching something into the soft bark of the tree, but it wasn’t until she finished and saw the word she’d written that she understood what she had been doing. The engraved word ‘IMPOSTERS’ was light with exposed grain.

  Jera looked up in the direction of her house. She got up and climbed down the ladder. At the foot of the tree she looked at the darkness around her. She took her first tentative steps across the space thick with trees. Something rustled in the hedge, causing her to hop on one foot before hastening forward. Her footsteps were slow and laboured, and she felt like she was running through treacle. Something snagged her dress, and she turned in panic. Her dress tore, a long strip of blue material hanging from the bush.

  Little squares of golden light spilled from the windows and stretched to elongated rectangles across the back lawn. Jera got to the outer edge, closed her eyes, took a deep breath and exhaled. She marched up the lawn, the gardeners long since gone. Her heart beat in rapid bursts. The dining room doors were wide open and Jera could hear music. She walked up the stairs and looked in through the window.

  The music was coming from the next room – the sitting room. She could see her parents and Gregory conversing. Jera ducked her head down and walked in through the open French doors of the dining room. She placed her hand on the sitting room door frame and caught sight of her father. She tried to catch his eyes, but he had them closed, laughing at a joke Gregory had just made.

  “Jera!”

  She spun around at the voice. Richard’s hulking mass approached her.

  “What happened to you?” he said. “You’re a frightful mess!”

  Jera stared at him in open horror, and then she relaxed her expression. She looked down at her clothes.

  “Oh,” she said. “Oh, yes. I am rather, aren’t I?”

  “What happened? You look like you’ve been rolling about in the mud.”

  “I went for a walk and fell over in the woods. I was watching the moon, not looking where I was going. There are so many tree roots sticking up out of the ground it’s hard to see anything.”

  “Yes, yes. Of course. You’re not hurt?”

  “I’m fine. It’s just mud.”

  “‘Just mud’?” Richard chuckled. “I know your sister wouldn’t react like that. Speaking of which, you haven’t happened to have seen her by any chance, have you? We can’t seem to locate her.”

  “She went out to meet a friend,” Jera said.

  “Do you know which friend?”

  “Just a girl friend from school.”

  Richard smiled. It was the same sweet smile, but this time it looked greasy and put upon, and Jera wondered how she had ever been suckered into believing it held a shred of warmth for her.

  “Why don’t you go get washed up and j
oin us in the sitting room?” he said in his smooth deep voice. “We’re choosing patterns for the wedding serviettes. A life or death decision. We could do with your input.”

  “I’ll be right in,” Jera said, reflecting his own phony smile back at him. “You go inside. Try to deflect Mother’s poor taste.”

  Richard turned and walked down the hall. Jera looked back into the sitting room. Her father caught sight of her and smiled. He raised his glass of champagne. Jera made her eyes wide and nodded to the side, to join her. He waved her over. She shook her head. He frowned, and put his glass of champagne down, excused himself, and walked toward her.

  “Jera, what’s wrong?” he said.

  “Not here.”

  Jera walked toward the opposite end of the dining room at a calm sedate pace, utilising every shred of willpower not to run as fast as her legs could carry her.

  “Jera?” Lord Wythnos said.

  “One moment.”

  She opened the door, stepped through into the corridor and waited for her father to join her. They were alone. She closed the door behind them.

  “Jera, just what is going on?” her father said, his voice fuzzy with anger.

  “It’s them. It’s Gregory and Richard. They’re not who they say they are!”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “It’s not really them. They’re pretending to be them! I don’t know if they’ve always been pretending or they’re just starting now, but they’re not who they say they are!”

  “What are you talking about? You’re not making any sense, what are you saying?”

  “I was up a tree, in the old treehouse Kali and I used to play in. I was about to come down when I heard voices. It was them. It was Richard and Gregory. Only they weren’t speaking in their voices, but different voices, rougher voices. And they don’t really want to get married. They’re doing it for some other reason. And they said they’ve been married before!”

  Jera panted, out of breath. Lord Wythnos’s eyebrows knitted together.

  “Are you sure it was them you heard and not someone else?” he said.

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “Could you have only heard someone else talking, and then saw Gregory and Richard?”

  Jera hesitated.

  “Think carefully,” her father said. “Did you really see them talking? Or just hear them and see them later?”

  “I…”

  Jera clenched her fists.

  “No,” she said. “I know it was them. It was the sound of their voices, their cadence, their tone. They spoke with different accents, but it was definitely them. And there was no one else around.”

  “You’re certain? If I’m going to take action I’ll need to know there is no doubt in your mind.”

  “I’m certain, Father. I know it was them.”

  Lord Wythnos nodded. His eyes were faraway, distracted with thought.

  “Look at me and tell me you don’t believe me,” Jera said.

  Lord Wythnos looked up at her. Her hair stuck up and she looked more unkempt than usual. Her eyes were round with fear.

  “You honestly believe this?” her father said.

  “Yes, Father. Please. You have to help me get rid of them. They’re dangerous.”

  Lord Wythnos nodded, and then nodded more vehemently.

  “Yes,” he said. “Yes, you’re right. Of course, you’re right. It’s just hard to believe they might not be what they appear.”

  Lord Wythnos pulled the door open a crack and peered through the dining room and into the front sitting room. He couldn’t make out his wife or his guests, but he heard his wife’s chiming laughter. He closed the door.

  “We need to get you and Kali to a safe place,” he said.

  “Richard said he hadn’t seen her, that they couldn’t find her.”

  “She came back about ten minutes ago.”

  “She did? Where is she?”

  “She’s in her room, getting changed. Wait here a moment and I’ll make my excuses so they won’t follow us.”

  “What about mother?”

  “She’ll be all right. They don’t suspect anything right now.”

  Lord Wythnos walked through the dining room and into the sitting room. Jera peered around at the long corridor, feeling alone in all the world. She crossed her arms, goosebumps pricking her flesh. A moment later her father returned.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  They walked down the empty corridors. The vacant suits of armour seemed to have eyes that watched them as they passed. Jera clutched her father’s arm tight. She hastened until her legs grew cramp.

  “What do you think they’re going to do?” Jera said.

  “I don’t know. But if what you say is true we have to do something.”

  Jera smiled with relief.

  “I knew if I could get to you everything would work out,” she said.

  Her father smiled, but kept his eyes straight ahead.

  They walked down the corridors with generations of Wythnoses watching them from their square portrait prisons, the same genetic language written over their faces: the jutting eyebrows and bulbous noses, and then once every few generations, a beauty the likes of which the bards sang.

  They got to Kali’s bedroom. Jera pulled the door open and rushed inside. It was dark and cold, and the candles hadn’t been lit.

  “Kali?” Jera said. “Kali? Are you in here?”

  She ran toward the bathroom, but the candle hadn’t been lit in there either.

  “She’s not here,” Jera said. “Kali’s not here.”

  Jera turned and faced her father standing in the doorway, his figure a small beaten shadow backlit by moonlight.

  “Father?” Jera said.

  “I’m sorry, Jera,” he said, not looking up.

  Jera ran toward him, but he reached over and pulled the door, slamming it shut and casting her in darkness. She beat at the door. The heavy lock turned and clicked into place. Jera grabbed the handle and pulled on it, but it would not open.

  “Father!” she cried.

  “I’m sorry, Jera,” her father’s voice said through the door. “This is for your own good. I’m doing this for you.”

  “Father? What are you doing? Open the door! Father? Let me out!”

  Jera banged on the door with her hand, but it wouldn’t budge.

  “Listen to me, Jera,” Lord Wythnos said. “You had to find out one day, but I didn’t expect it to be so soon. It’s much too soon. I’m sorry, but you must marry Richard. The Ascar family are the only ones who can help us now. Everything will make sense in the end, I promise you. This really is for the best, you’ll see.”

  “Father, let me out,” Jera said, trying to add authority to her shaking voice. “Let me out now.”

  “Listen to me, Jera. Our family is destitute. We’re broke. We have no money left. By agreeing to marry into the Ascar family we can save our family, keep our home, and you can have a future. Your mother can’t know about this. She can never know. Jera? Are you listening to me?”

  “Why did you bring us into this?” Jera said in a small voice.

  “Jera… It’s complicated.”

  “This was your fault. Why did you have to drag us into it?”

  “You were what the Ascars wanted. They wanted to tie you to me so I wouldn’t back out. Once I agreed there was nothing I could do.”

  “What are they going to do?” Jera said.

  “They’re just going to use my fleet to trade their goods, that’s all. Since the storm six years ago business has been slow. But now we can recover and be as strong as ever.”

  “Father,” Jera said with tears in her eyes. “Don’t do this, please.”

  “This is for your own good, Jera. One day you will see that.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Elian stood beside the door and watched the clocks on the wall. Pendulums swung and second hands ticked, and the instant they made a full circle they began to chime, Elian slammed the door
closed and turned the lock. He turned to the clocks hanging on the wall and rubbed his hands together.

  “Time for you to show me your family jewels,” he said out loud.

  He took hold of a clock that had silver digits, hands and whorl detailing around the edges. He sat it on a work bench and hunched over it. He slipped the edge of a tiny chisel under the number one and tapped it ever so gently with a tiny hammer. With a little pull, the number loosened and fell to the table, chiming like heaven’s bells.

  Elian picked it up and raised it to his trained eye. The light bounced off it and refracted off the wall. He smiled. It was good quality. He bent back down over the clock and began chiselling at the number two.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lady Wythnos, dressed in her bedclothes, pulled back the silk blankets from the bed and climbed in. She buried herself in deep like a tick and wrapped the blankets around herself forming a cocoon.

  “I haven’t seen the girls all night,” she said. “Are they all right?”

  Lord Wythnos slipped the jacket from his shoulders.

  “Oh, yes,” he said. “Quite all right. They’re just excited about the wedding, that’s all.”

  “It seems wrong to be organising the wedding without them.”

  Lord Wythnos unbuttoned his dress shirt.

  “They are tired, dear,” he said. “It’s been a long day for them.”

  “I suppose you’re right. That’s what parents are for, to help organise things their children don’t want to do.”

  Lord Wythnos went into the bathroom, ran the tap and splashed water on his face.

  “It feels like that’s ninety percent of a parent’s job,” Lady Wythnos’s voice said. “Organising things.”

  Lord Wythnos stared at himself in the mirror for a moment and then came back into the bedroom and changed into his bedclothes.

  “Does Jera have to marry Richard?” Lady Wythnos said. “He’s a nice boy, but I just don’t think they’re a perfect match.”

  “It’s about time she took on some responsibility. I’ve sacrificed a lot for this family. I won’t let her get away unscathed.”

  “You’ve become awfully gruff in your old age, Frederick. Seniority doesn’t suit you.”