by Angie West
***
We left the town square an hour later with the shoes, the dress, and a pair of jeans. I took a last look around the town. My eyes strayed to the wooded area beyond the fence. There were no reflectors on the wood, and yet the fence still shimmered with an unnatural light.
“Faith, you never told me about the fence.”
“I didn’t? Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“They’re protected zones. Anything inside the fence is in the safe zone—protected. It’s been that way since before I was born.” She shrugged. “The fences have been around since before my mother and grandmother were born, even. But my great-grandmother could still remember a time when the fences were not here. She’s gone now, but by all accounts, those were hard times—Terlain’s king at that time—Kahn—was not a fair man. Our people revolted. But the man that came forward to take his place was much worse. He’s truly a cruel man.”
“I see.” I didn’t. Not at all. “Wait—did you just say he ‘is’ cruel?”
“That’s right.”
“Then you’re saying he’s…is he still alive?” No way.
“Mm-hmm.”
“That’s not possible.” And to think, I had been worried about scaring her.
“It’s not only possible, it’s true. He is still alive.”
“He must be over a hundred years old.”
“Oh, he’s much older. I am not sure exactly, but I think he’s closer to two hundred.”
“Don’t people die here?”
“People die here. But he does not fit into that category.” Faith looked around and lowered her voice. “They say he’s not human. That he’s some sort of warlock.”
“A warlock?” I tried to keep the disbelief out of my voice, because it was obvious that Faith really believed the stories.
“That’s just what I have heard.”
“So the fences were put up to keep him out of the towns?” The fence was short, maybe thigh high. It looked like the type of fence you normally see around rural country homes. The panels were built from rounded sections of wood that resembled slender logs, two pieces across that were twined to the top and bottom of the posts every four feet or so. They shimmered even brighter in the sunlight.
“The matrons did that,” she explained. “The townspeople put the fences up. The Matrons cast the spell. That’s why they glow like that.”
“So the spell keeps out…” I trailed off, looking to Faith to fill in the gaps.
She shrugged. “The guards, land beasts.”
“How?”
She wrinkled her nose, as if this was something she hadn’t previously considered. “Something about the enchantment warding off evil, I guess. I don’t know the specifics—it’s just always been this way. It’s not something that most people really worry about, anymore.”
“Hmm, okay so who are the Matrons?” I asked, although I already knew. I had read about them in Mike’s documents.
“They’re a group of elders who have been around for over a thousand years, keeping watch, mostly.”
“So how are they selected? Do they get voted in, or is the duty passed down through families?” The concept of the Matrons had held my interest more than the other ‘characters’ had, though to call them characters seemed inappropriate now. I had been curious to see if the Matrons’ presence in the legend was somehow linked to the legend of the Amazon, and what similarities the two might hold.
“No. The Matrons are the same today as they were a thousand years ago.”
“They don’t age, either,” I said quietly. That part had not been in the notes. The evil king’s immortality hadn’t been mentioned either. It was fascinating—and terrifying.
“Are all of the towns protected?”
Faith shook her head sadly. “No. There were some people who chose to fight on their own. Most did not make it. Those who were left alive either became slaves or guards to the king. Some of the towns are deserted today. Then there are those where the lawless gather.”
“Exiles, you mean.”
“Essentially, yes.”
“Why would anyone choose not to be protected?”
“The Matrons can be powerful enemies when crossed.”
“Well, why can’t they just go through the world and add protected areas?”
“Once the spell is cast, it cannot be broken or altered, or so they say. Some of the roads—the newer ones anyway—are not protected. Many of our roads were here before the war, though.”
I pointed to the woods beyond the fence. There was only one question left to ask.
“Where does that lead?”