Fear of Fire and Shadow

by S. Young

  I slammed back against the wall, wide-eyed as he crawled over me, straddling me. I looked into his face with so much hatred, I hoped it incinerated him. His stench overwhelmed me as it had the last time, and my stomach lurched in response. His stale sweat and bad breath would have been enough to make me sick, but the odor of blood and old meat lingered on him too.

  He smelled like death.

  I closed my eyes and pushed away from him as his hands pawed at me, the muscles in my body twanging and twitching like the taut strings of a lute.

  “Ye better start playin’, wife, or I’m goin’ to get mad.”

  Despite his threat, I couldn’t stop flinching from his touch; I couldn’t have even if my mind had told me it was the safest thing to do. Instead I incurred his anger over and over again, pushing and struggling and jerking to get him off me. One of his huge hands slid down over my face, and he pushed me, slamming my head off the wall. The minutes after that were distant and unclear. My head lolled on my shoulders, and I could only see and hear images. I swore I heard Wolfe’s voice, saw Haydyn’s face.

  But they weren’t here.

  As the present came back to me, my situation had worsened. I was flat on my back on the pallet, the mountain man still straddling me. My shirt had been ripped fully open by the knife in his hands. I was covered in little shallow cuts.

  I let out a garbled cry and swung at his head with my hands, a weak hit, but enough to give me a moment to summon my energy. I bucked under him, trying to throw him off. I swung at him again, causing him to jerk away, providing me the momentum I needed to shake him off. I screamed like a banshee the entire time, using it to call up furious adrenaline that might infuse me with temporary strength.

  The mountain man roared and clambered over me, the knifeless fist swooping down and connecting with my face. Blood gushed out of my nose as my eyes watered. He used my disorientation to unbutton my trousers.

  “No, no,” I mumbled, tasting the bitter copper of my blood. I shook my head. No. I began to hyperventilate as his body drew flush with mine, his face hovering above me with lascivious eyes and a lusty grin.

  I heard the clatter of the knife as he threw it away and gripped me by the throat to keep me in place.

  My eyes rolled back in my head.

  Then … the mountain man flinched, a startled cry falling from his mouth. He stared straight ahead at the wall above me, his eyes wide.

  Then he snarled and rolled off me, and my own eyes widened at the sight of an arrow sticking out of his back. I threw my tied hands out and dragged my body away from him, gasping at the vision of a man, cast in the shadow of the doorway, a huge machete clutched in his hand. Beside him stood a girl. Young. Perhaps Haydyn’s age. She held a crossbow pointed at the mountain man.

  I watched in a stupor of horror and hope as the mountain man lunged to his feet to attack the intruders. The girl let another arrow fly with calm expertise. Mountain man staggered as the girl armed the crossbow with another arrow. The man beside her laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, holding her off.

  I wanted to complain. To tell her to shoot. Mountain man was still standing. But as I watched, his face slackened.

  And then he collapsed with an almighty thud.

  “This her?” the man at the doorway asked, nodding at me.

  “Stupid question, Papa. ’Course it’s her,” the girl answered.

  I slid away from them. I couldn’t trust anyone here.

  The man nodded and moved tentatively toward me. I shimmied back until I hit the wall again. I glowered at him.

  He stopped, and as my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw his face. He appeared upset. Concerned. “I’m not goin’ to hurt ye, little one. I’m goin’ to untie those ropes for ye, so ye can be gettin’ yerself together.”

  My heart beat unsteadily as I glanced between the two strangers. I so needed to believe them. “Who are you? What did you do to him? Don’t come near me!” I screeched as he edged closer.

  He sighed heavily and the girl huffed, “Well, that be a grateful response. We isn’t goin’ to hurt ye!” She shook her head. “Papa, she’s as soft as goat’s cheese. No wonder she be landin’ in this mess and causin’ a rumpus!”

  I blinked in confusion, still dazed from my beating. Who was this girl? This man?

  “L, be nice,” the man admonished. “Help the poor girl, will ye? She’s been through what ye like to call an ordeeul.”

  An ordeal? I wanted to scream. An ordeal? Being kidnapped by the Iavii, running from rookery thugs, that was an ordeal! This … I shook my head. I looked back over at the mountain man and then to the two people who had attacked him. Had they really saved me? Why?

  The girl—L, her father had called her—sighed. “Look here, Rogan, we isn’t goin’ to hurt ye. We’re rescuing ye from Crazy here. My arrow was tipped in a poison he won’t be comin’ back from. Bugger won’t be hurtin’ no one again.” She curled her lip in disgust at the mountain man.

  I stiffened in suspicion. “How do you know my name?”

  The man sighed. “My girl is one o’ the blessed. A mage. She’s got the Sight.”

  “A Glava?” I raised my eyebrows at her.

  “That be me,” L huffed. “I felt yer terror. So Papa and I set out to rescue ye. Now … ye goin’ to repay our kindness by no’ takin’ a fit o’ the vapors as we untie ye?”

  There was something genuine about the girl’s gruffness and her father’s gentleness. Relief crashed over me and I began to shake. Tears glittered in my eyes but I fought them, noticing L watching me carefully. “Of course.”

  The man reached for me and gently cut the ropes around my wrists.

  He hissed at the mess. They were red and bleeding. I imagined, overall, I wasn’t a pretty sight, covered in blood and bruises. Not to mention my trousers still stank of my fear. “Ma will have to be puttin’ some o’ her special medicine on to be sortin’ that mess out.”

  I didn’t argue. I couldn’t continue my journey without getting cleaned up and hopefully fed. When Papa had cut the rope from my ankles, which were in much the same condition as my wrists, I numbly refastened my trousers and tried to pull the shirt together.

  L stilled my hands, briskly pulling off her jacket and tugging me into it. She buttoned it for me. Up close now, I could see her eyes. A multitude of emotion lived in them. She wasn’t as unaffected by the state she’d found me in as she’d like me to believe. I stumbled forward on my blistered feet, and L exhaled again, throwing her father a look. “Ma will need to be sortin’ her feet out, too, if this one is to be gettin’ to the Pool.”

  L and her father reached to help me out of the shack, their arms around me as I hobbled along with them. L’s comment meant she knew who I was and why I was here.

  “Where are you taking me?” I asked wearily as we wandered into the woods. I numbed myself to the pain, only focusing on my relief.

  L’s father answered, “Back to our home so ye can get cleaned up. I’m Jonas, by the way.”

  “Hello, Jonas. Thank you for rescuing me.”

  L coughed.

  “You too, L.”

  After a moment of silence, the numbness and overwhelming relief gave way to a need for answers, for more reassurance. “Where is your home? What else do you know, L? Is it—”

  “Questions later, Lady Rogan.” L sniffed. “Let’s just be gettin’ the blazes out o’ here.”

  I obliged her, not once looking back.

  Chapter 25

  L and Jonas guided me onto the trail and my magic hummed with relief as we headed in the right direction. I hobbled between them, attempting to bite back whimpers of pain and not always succeeding.

  “We be headin’ near the outskirts of Shadow Hill,” L whispered abruptly. “Ye need to be keepin’ that pain quiet.”

  I didn’t reply. I just heeded her warning.

  Sometime later, when I heard voices way off in the distance, I guessed we were at Shadow Hill. Jonas and L had grown tense beside me and walked with
a stealth I tried to mimic. I could tell they were worried I’d somehow give them away, but after what I’d just gone through, I had no intention of putting myself in a position to be abused again.

  There was a horrible moment when we heard crashing of bracken in the woods to our right; the whips and rustles of trees and plants, the hard thud of a heavy foot in the soil. My rescuers looked at each other wide-eyed and then quickly pushed me behind a thick tree trunk, warning me with their eyes to stay still. They scurried off to find a tree each for cover. I didn’t dare peer around the tree. My heart thud-thud-thumped as I heard a man whistling and humming under his breath. I then heard a hissing noise and saw L roll her eyes from her place behind the tree across from me. I think perhaps the man was relieving himself.

  After a while, the whistling and noise of him crashing through the woods faded into the distance, and a grinning L came out into the open, Jonas following suit. I glowered, wondering what she had to be so carefree about when I was a nervous wreck. I’d never met a girl as cocky as this one. Without a word, they put their arms around me, helping me, and we set off again.

  Half an hour later, quiet tears rolled down my face.

  I was in agony.

  The back of my head throbbed, my cheeks were stiff and bruised, and the cut on my lip stung. The knife injury on the rise of my breast pulsed painfully and my wrists were raw, the pain from the broken skin sharp and nipping. My ankles were the same. And my feet. They felt shredded and swollen.

  I expected L to make a comment on my tears but she just looked at me and increased her pace. I tried to keep up, and as dark fell over us, L and Jonas led me off the trail path into the thick of the woods. Wariness clung to me, but I tried to shrug it off. L and Jonas were helping me. I really believed that but the fear and suspicion seemed like leftovers from the shock of my ordeal.

  We walked perhaps another hour, this time deviating enough from my magic for it to tug at me, like a child pulling a friend’s hair in frustration. I didn’t care this time. I needed to rest. Just for a minute. Only a minute.

  Finally, a well-built shack appeared in a tiny clearing in the woods. There was a vegetable garden and a goat tied to the wooden framing of the porch. It was the homeliest-looking place I’d seen since venturing into the mountains, like something from a fairy tale. As we hobbled up the rough-hewn path, the door to the house burst open, candlelight from inside streaming out to greet us. I almost wept in relief. A woman’s silhouette framed the doorway, a child’s face appearing from behind her skirts.

  “Thank haven,” the woman whispered into the night. “I was gettin’ worried.”

  “Ma, we need some o’ yer medicine,” L called out as we drew toward the porch. Jonas and L helped me hobble up the steps until I faced the woman. Her expression changed as she took me in, her smile morphing into angry concern.

  “Dear haven, what did he do to that child? Get her in here.” She gestured us inside. It was easy to see who L had inherited her gruffness from.

  As I stepped inside, I glanced down at the little boy who stared at me in horror.

  I must look horrendous.

  I looked away from him to take in my surroundings. We were in the main room of their home, it included a sitting area and kitchen. Two rocking chairs sat on either side of a large, glowing fire. There were two doors, one at the back and the other on the wall opposite the fire. I gathered it led to their bedrooms.

  L guided me over to the table that took up most of the room. There were empty plates and cups on it. From the kitchen, the smell of stew wafted past my nostrils and my stomach clenched.

  Their home was warm and welcoming and cozy.

  And safe.

  I crumpled between Jonas and L, both of them crying out as they moved to catch me.

  “For haven’s sake,” L complained.

  They picked me up and helped me into a seat at the table. I slumped back in it, thankful to be off my feet.

  “L, there’s water boiling over the fire. Bring it.” L’s mother scooted into a chair opposite me and smiled softly. “Ye be Rogan, that right?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I replied politely.

  Her grin widened. “Ma’am. Ye be hearin’ that, L? Perhaps ye can be learnin’ some manners.”

  L grunted.

  “I be Sarah Moss. Ye met L—Elizabeth, but she be preferrin’ L—and my husband Jonas. And that one there”—she nodded warmly at the little boy—“is Jonas Jr. We just be callin’ him Jr.”

  “I’m pleased to meet all of you,” I wheezed. “You have no idea.” Tears I couldn’t control spilled over.

  “Aw, lass,” Sarah tutted. She turned to L, who had placed the hot water before her. I watched through blurry eyes as Sarah rolled up a cloth and dipped it into the water. “L, why don’t ye and yer papa make us up some bowls o’ stew, eh?”

  L and Jonas did so without complaint.

  I, on the other hand, waited warily as Sarah leaned over with the wet cloth and dabbed at the blood on my face. I winced as she touched my bruises. My nose must have been swollen as well because it hurt horribly.

  I was so glad there was no mirror in the room.

  For a while, all Sarah did was wash away the blood from my cuts. She drew a deep breath and put the cloth aside. Then she reached for me with her bare hands. At the touch of her soft fingertips on my face, my eyes widened at the tingling rush of energy that shot through my nose. My eyes teared as the swelling disappeared, as my cheeks returned to normal, as the cut on my lip sealed. I said not a word as she turned those healing hands to all my wounds, even my feet.

  Sarah looked exhausted by the time she settled back in her chair. L and Jonas had ladled out the stew and were already busy eating.

  “You’re a Dravilec,” I whispered in amazement.

  She nodded. I shook my head, glancing between Sarah and L. A Dravilec and a Glava in the same family. L caught my look and seemed to understand. She smirked.

  “How is that possible?” I asked.

  Jonas replied, “I have Glava in my family history. Sarah, Dravilec.”

  That really wasn’t what I meant. What I had meant was that, for a world whose mages were apparently dying out, I’d encountered many of them. Haydyn’s evocation wasn’t the only thing in Phaedra changing.

  More mages were being born.

  I chewed my lip as I wondered what this meant.

  Of course, the Moss family didn’t know I’d encountered many more like them, so my puzzlement was bemusing for them. I shrugged it off. This wasn’t the time.

  At Sarah’s insistence, I ate the stew, but slowly, because my stomach still fragile. But as I ate the stew and warm bread, and sipped the apple juice Sarah pushed toward me, my body began to shut down in a sudden lassitude now that I felt safe.

  “No, no, Lady Rogan.” Sarah shook me, and I was surprised that it didn’t hurt. Of course. She had healed me. I smiled dopily at her. I could have kissed her for that. “First, we need to get you washed up.”

  Again I was too tired to argue. Sarah shooed the rest of the Mosses from the room and set about undressing me. I let her wash me as my own mother had done years before, too exhausted to be embarrassed. She was gentle, even rinsing my hair out and braiding it into a coil on my head.

  At last she dressed me in one of her own clean, soft, cotton nightgowns, and led me to a room at the back of the house. It was small with two single beds and a chest of drawers opposite them. Floral curtains were pulled across the window. In the bed closest to the door lay Jr., already fast asleep. In the other bed was L. She sat on the edge of it in cotton long johns. It didn’t surprise me she didn’t wear a nightgown to bed.

  “She all right?” L whispered.

  “She will be,” Sarah replied. “She just needs sleep.” She turned to me. “Ye can share L’s bed. She don’t mind.”

  At that moment, I didn’t care if she did or not. I crawled into the bed and slipped under the covers.

  L craned around to look at me. “Make yerself
at home.” She grunted and then slid in, too, pulling the covers around us. She reached over and tugged the other side of the quilt so that I was completely covered. Then she turned to Sarah and whispered, “Night, Ma.”

  “Night, L. Proud o’ ye, lass.”

  “Thanks, Ma.”

  I must have fallen asleep as soon as my head hit L’s pillow because I didn’t remember a thing after that.

  Chapter 26

  The next morning I awoke snuggled up next to L.

  She gave a huff of laughter because I’d trapped her in my embrace and she couldn’t get out without waking me up. I blushed beetroot, but she merely waved away my apology.

  Apparently everyone else was already up for breakfast. It was midmorning, L told me. They’d let us rest longer. I was grateful. I already felt so much better than I’d ever thought I’d feel again. L gave me clothes—we were of a similar height. I pulled on the soft trousers and shirt, eyeing the stockings and the too-big boots with dread because I knew my feet would soon be wrecked again.

  As we dressed for the day, L mentioned I’d woken her up thrashing through what she surmised was a nightmare. I couldn’t remember it and I apologized profusely. Again.

  Again, she seemed truly unbothered by the disruption I’d caused.

  “I only mentioned it because …” She seemed embarrassed and I raised an eyebrow. “Well, because ye might be wantin’ to talk about what happened to ye. Ye can talk to me.” She shrugged as she turned from me.

  I smiled, sad but grateful. “Thank you, L. I don’t …” I bristled at the way my body still clenched in fear at the thought of the mountain man. “I can’t just yet, but thank you.”

  L shrugged again and headed into the main room.

  Breakfast was delicious.

  Eggs, toast, goat cheese. More of Sarah’s delicious apple juice. The Mosses were kind and considerate of not only me but each other, and I enjoyed their teasing banter at the breakfast table. Their home was happy and warm. It was so nice to see that again after what I’d encountered up here in the Alvernian Mountains. It soothed my jangled nerves.