Chapter 34
I try to pay attention to Maureen’s lesson, but my mind keeps drifting back to my mom and Anthony.
Anthony must be coming for me soon. I’m surprised that he isn’t here already. Maybe what Layla said was true. She said Anthony would just forget about me and move on to the next unsuspecting Huldra. I cringe. He wouldn’t do that, would he? Anthony said he doesn’t know where Wraithsong Island is located, but we had both agreed that the Lightálfars probably knew where it was. I hope they know. If not, I could be stuck here for a really long time. Now my mom and I are both technically missing. Lost on Wraithsong Island—it sounds like a movie, and one that I don’t want to be the protagonist of.
Today is my third day here on the island. I refrain from pondering too long on my bleak situation. If I did, I’d spiral into a well of depression and I can’t afford to do that right now because I need to stay strong for my mom. I still think Anthony is the good guy, but the longer he stays away, the more I find reason to doubt him. The clock’s ticking, and though there’s nothing I can do to save my mom right at this moment, I feel I need to take some type of action—soon. The strange beast I saw last night vanished, and nobody has mentioned it. I briefly consider the idea that the beast was just a part of a nightmare I had, but no, I can’t start second guessing myself now. I know what I saw—I can’t deny it. But maybe all it is, is one of the Darkálfars shape-shifting, though that doesn’t make sense either. There’s no reason to shape-shift into that huge beast in the middle of the night, is there?
“Sonia?” Maureen says. Today her hair is white, waist-length and straight.
“Yes,” I say, Maureen’s voice bringing me back to the present. I blink.
“I need you to focus, darling. We’ve already fallen behind in your studies. I thought you would have been intelligent enough to keep up with the pace,” Maureen says.
“Sorry, I’m…I’ll be fine. I was just thinking about…my mom,” I say, almost slipping and mentioning the beast. “I’m so worried about her.” When I think about her the tears come like a flood.
Maureen’s tone is almost pitiless. “Your whining will not bring your mother back. Besides, that’s why we’re here training you, so that when we do finally find her, you’ll be ready to fight in the battle against the Darkálfars.”
“Well, I want to find my mom now,” I say.
Maureen comes over and places her hand on my shoulder. Her touch does little to comfort me; instead, it disturbs me. “I have already sent others to search for your beloved mother and the other three governesses as we speak. They’ve been looking for them ever since you arrived here.”
“What others?” I ask, wiping away my tears.
“The other Huldras, of course. Trust me; I’m doing everything in my power to save your mother.” Maureen walks behind her desk again and leafs through the Book of Huldras. “We must not let our emotions get in the way of our work,” she says without looking up. She clears her throat. “Now flip the page. Here, you’ll find a lesson most Huldras never learn. I’ll go into greater detail about this chapter later when I think you’re ready. I’ll teach it to you because you are particularly gifted, and because I believe that you’ll benefit from this knowledge. This is confidential, though, and stays only between you and me, do you understand?”
I nod.
“The governesses took out several precious things from the Book of Huldras. I, however, have an original copy, and live by its doctrine. One of the things they took out was this chapter, explaining how a Huldra’s flair can be appropriated by other Huldras,” Maureen smiles.
“Isn’t that…unethical…unfair?” I ask.
“Everything is this way, Sonia. Think of the poor baby turtles who strive so hard to stay alive after they hatch out of their eggs on the beach. Do you know that only one in a thousand of them will make it into adulthood? Life is brutal and only the fittest survive. Like the few remaining Huldras and Álfars.”
I understand exactly what Maureen is saying; nothing in life is fair, but I’ll be damned if I’ll be one to use my God-given will—my agency—to live a life of fulfillment at the expense of another.
“If you stick with me, Sonia, you will have a very happy and rewarding life. None of this lowly humility and suffering for the sake of suffering propaganda.” She waves her hand like she’s trying to get rid of an annoying mosquito in front of her face. “So many people suffer because they choose to suffer. Pain comes to us all, but suffering is a choice. Remember, there are no victims, only volunteers. If you live by these beliefs, you’ll never suffer and will never be a victim.”
“Okay?” I don’t quite understand how one can reach a point where one never suffers or is never at the mercy of someone else some of the time, but it does sound like a worthy ideal to strive toward.
“Next, I would like for you to open your book to page six-hundred and seventy-six. There you’ll find the reason why Huldras must not marry Darkálfars.”
“Anthony says—”
Maureen slams her book shut, startling me. “I will hear no mention of that name here!”
I feel like I have just declared that the world is coming to an end. “Sorry, I just needed some clarification.”
"One day, you’ll understand. When you have children, you’ll see that the loss of their love is the most painful of all. Today’s lesson is finished. I’ll send Olaf in.” Maureen packs up her notebook and storms out the door.
I remain in my seat, and notice I have stopped breathing. All that lingers in the classroom is the fact that I’ve offended Maureen by mentioning her son’s name. It wasn’t quite the reaction I expected. Is it possible that I misjudged her and that maybe she truly loves him and he has broken her heart? Maybe Anthony will never come for me. The thought horrifies me, because now, even though I don’t want to, I think there’s a chance it could actually be true.
Olaf swings the door open so quickly that a breeze disturbs the papers on my desk. “You really are something. The least you could do is show Maureen some respect.” His eyes, dark and wrathful, sear me into a heap of ashes. “We are going outside again today. Meet me in the stable in five minutes.” Olaf slams the door behind him.
He’s one to talk. He didn’t exactly respect me when he invaded my room in the middle of the night. I pick up my books, drop them off in my room, and make my way over to the detached stable.
When I arrive, Maureen and Olaf are talking quietly in the stable. I sneak up close to the open door to see if I can hear any of their conversation. With my back to the door, I listen in.
“I saw in a vision that her gift is what could win us our victory,” Maureen says.
“How so?” Olaf asks.
Maureen pauses for a moment, and then speaks so quietly that I almost cannot hear her. “It is the gift of Cherubo. Only one other Huldra has received this gift before her.”
Cherubo? I’ve never heard of it. My mom never mentioned it. Anthony never mentioned it, and I didn’t read anything about it in the Book of Huldras.
I hear Olaf snort a laugh. “Sonia, the half-breed, is to receive the gift of Cherubo?”
“I know—it’s difficult to believe, isn’t it?” Maureen says.
“That little girl does not deserve it for she is not even pure.”
I’m offended by Olaf’s remark, but then again, his behavior towards me has hardly been respectful. I can’t expect him to think or speak highly of me.
“Be careful, Olaf, and don’t be so quick to judge. That little girl has more power and potential than you give her credit for,” Maureen says.
I’m surprised Maureen stands up for me. Maybe she’s not as bad as Anthony painted her, and maybe she really is here to help me.
“Your job is to gain her trust, so she’ll support our cause, and then—”
I accidentally move the stable door, causing it to creak. They must have heard the noise and that’s why Maureen stops talking. I should enter—pretend that I’m just now arrivi
ng for my lesson. I curse myself for having made a noise because I really wanted to hear what Maureen was about to say. So far, she hasn’t said anything confirming she’s after my gift, but rather seems to think highly of me.
I enter the stable and pretend I didn’t hear their conversation. I must hide my thoughts from Olaf, or he’ll know that I was listening in. I focus on my surroundings instead. Dirt and straw cover the stable floor, and there are five stalls on either side of the hallway. Leather reins and saddles hang from the low wood ceiling and a dwarf-sized man is busy shoveling dung in one of the stalls with a shovel that looks way too big for him.
“Hi,” I say.
Maureen stares at me for a moment but remains silent.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” I say.
Maureen nods to me and then to Olaf and then walks off.
“Ah, there you are,” Olaf says in his usual pleasant tone. His moods change disturbingly fast. He enters one of the stalls and leads a black horse into the hallway. The horse neighs and flicks his tail.
For a split second, I lose my train of thought, thinking that I hate Olaf.
Olaf shoots me a glowering glance.
I make my mind go blank. I have become better at keeping my thoughts to myself the last few days, especially around Olaf, but I’m not good enough yet. One’s thoughts must be one of the most important things to conquer in life, and though I’m not where I want to be yet, I feel strengthened.
“Yes, here I am.” I smile pleasantly. The scent of hay and manure flood my nostrils as a breeze blows through the barn.
“I spoke to Maureen, and she would like for you to learn how to shoot a bow and arrow while riding.” Olaf pats the horse on its neck.
“All right, but is there any reason why I would need to learn that to save my mom?” I ask.
“The student does not question the teacher. Now do you want your mother back?” He seems unusually frustrated.
“Of course I want my mom back, Olaf.”
“Good.” He hooks the two reins, one on each side of the walkway, and continues to saddle up the horse. “Have you ridden a horse before?”
“No,” I say unapologetically.
“Let us start here.” He pulls up an aluminum stepstool to the horse’s left side and ascends the stairs. “I will have you use this the first time, until you get used to it. To mount the horse, you first grab the reins with your left hand, turn the stirrup toward you, using your right hand, and then put your left foot into the stirrup.”
I listen to his directions carefully.
“Then, hold the waist of your saddle with your right hand, have your left hand on the horse’s withers, gently bounce once or twice on your right foot and then spring off of it.” He grunts as his right leg swings over the horse. “Next, secure your right leg into the right stirrup while pulling the reins back. This signals the horse to remain still.”
“Okay,” I say.
“Ready to try?” He looks down at me from atop the horse.
“Yes.”
He jumps back off the horse and hands me a bow and a quiver filled with blue, red and yellow feathers at the ends of the arrows. After I secure the quiver on my back and the bow around my torso, I climb onto the horse. Olaf fetches another brown horse from one of the stalls, saddles it and mounts it.
“Follow me.” He taps the sides of his horse with his legs and steers in front of me.
Not quite knowing how to get my horse to move, I do the same. The horse starts moving.
He looks back at me. “Now do exactly as I am doing.” He rises up from the horse’s back and holds his position, and I do the same. Then he sits back down again, and I follow. “This is called posting, and the way you want to do it is to rise when the horse’s front right foot hits the ground, and lower yourself when the horse’s left foot hits the ground. The key to this is coordination. Now, continue this way for a few minutes.”
I try to get the rhythm down, but it’s really hard to make my body coordinate with the horse. Soon all I can feel are my thighs, calves and hips burning.
“One, two, one, two, one two,” Olaf says. “You are up on one, down on two.”
“That’s easier said than done.” My burning muscles are screaming for a break, but I’m determined to learn this.
We ride into the tall green beech woods, following an ancient trail. The hillsides are covered with vines and green plants. After following the trail for a while, we arrive at a small grove. The leaves glitter with sunlight and in the middle of the grove stands a stone altar. Olaf jumps off his horse and unloads the leather backpack.
“This will be your target.” He lifts out a burlap and places it on the altar.
I really want to get off the horse, my legs are spent, but I don’t say anything. Probably picking up on what I’m thinking, Olaf opens his mouth to speak.
“No, I don’t want to quit!” I need to keep my thoughts more hidden. It seems harder to focus on keeping my thoughts to myself when I am physically tired.
“Weak in body makes for weak in mind,” he says, as if affirming what I’m thinking. “Now, focus on the target.”
I kick my horse to move and the horse progresses in a circular pattern around the altar.
“Now, take your bow and arrow. Remember that a Huldra never misses when she is fixated on her target. You cannot miss, unless there is something else you allow yourself to be distracted by.”
My eyes fixate on the target. Pulling my bowstring tight, I relax into the movement and let go. The arrow hits the target but bounces on impact.
“Do I need to remind you that you must…?”
I interrupt him. “No!” I snatch another arrow out of the quiver and refocus, pulling the string back as hard as I can before releasing it. It makes a swooshing sound, and with a thud, pierces and embeds itself into the bag. I give Olaf a triumphant look.
He inspects it. “Good, now—bring your horse to a trot and do three in a row.”
I know I can do this. “Yah!” I tap the horse with my legs and the horse jolts into a nice trot. Focus, Sonia, I tell myself. With my arrow pointed at the bag, I release it, grab another arrow, release it, grab another arrow, but before I release the third arrow something catches my attention. I release the arrow and look up, but don’t see anything other than bushes and shrubbery.
“Good on the first two, but you missed on the last one,” Olaf points out.
“I know, but I saw something moving in the woods,” I say, peering in the direction in which I thought I saw movement.
“A bird maybe?” he suggests.
“Maybe.” But the object or animal I saw from the corner of my eye seemed to be larger than a bird. Much larger.
“Now, off the horse,” he commands.
“Can I try again?” I ask.
“No, you can try again later. I have to show you something else.”
I steer the horse over to the altar.
“Need help getting down?” Olaf offers.
I don’t really want his help, and still feel awkward in his presence from his night visitation, but accept anyway. “Sure.” I return my bow to my back and swing my legs over to the left side of the horse.
Olaf grabs my waist and lifts me off the horse, and when my feet almost reach the ground, he clasps me around the waist and flings me onto the altar.
“What are you doing?” I yell. I hadn’t expected this.
“Do not resist, Sonia. There is no use in doing so. I knew from the moment I saw you that I was meant to have your gift,” he whispers in my ear as he holds me down.
“Stop it! Stop, Olaf! Someone help!” Adrenaline rushes through my body and I try to think of ways to escape.
“No use in thinking, Sonia, have you not yet realized that? I will always be one step ahead of you because you are so weak-minded that I can read all your thoughts. Do not worry, little dancer, I am not after what some men might be after. I am only after your gift.”
I wiggle my left arm free a
nd try to punch him in the face, but he grabs my arm and pins it behind my back in a flash. My arm feels like it’s going to tear off, he’s twisting it so forcefully. “Let me go, you creep!”
“No, no, no, dear, there is no use in wasting your breath because there is no one else here. No one will come to your rescue.” He pulls out a silky, white rope and ties my wrists in front of my body and my feet together.
Oh, dear God, is he going to sacrifice me?
“No, I am not going to sacrifice you. How would you give me your gift if you were dead? You will give it to me because I have your mother,” he says.
“I knew you kidnapped her!”
“Let us stop the chit chat, shall we?” He gags me with a black handkerchief. Breathing heavily, he paces around the altar, as if he’s trying to evaluate his next move. My horse neighs, moving around nervously. Olaf goes over to calm him, but instead, the horse stands up on its hind legs and brays loudly.
Just then I notice the beast I saw last night slowly emerging from the deepest part of the woods. My horse takes off galloping back toward the stables.
In the light, the beast looks even more terrifying than I remember. It’s a muscular beast with sharp claws on the front two paws and hooves on the rear. The black zigzag spine of the snake tail continues to the beast’s back and contrasts with his golden reptile skin. The goat horns are set above golden eyes that burn with hunger. I feel a surge of terror that overcomes my ability to think rationally. Warn Olaf, I’m finally able to think. I scream as loudly as I can with the handkerchief securely gagging my mouth, but Olaf isn’t paying attention. He’s busy trying to calm his horse and probably thinks I’m screaming for help from him.
The beast moves methodically toward Olaf, his eyes fixed and angry. His jaws open, revealing layers of fangs. I inch my way to the edge of the altar and roll off on the opposite side of the beast. The fall hurts, knocking the breath out of me, but I hope the beast hasn’t seen me or will forget about me if it can’t see me anymore. My new position means that I’m unable to see what’s happening between the beast and Olaf. The beast roars and I hear Olaf screech. I feel sorry for him; the beast is probably devouring him alive. Stifling a sob, I try to remain calm, though I’m powerless to quiet my pounding heart. Olaf screams again and again, but slowly his screams turn to moans. After what seems like an eternity, I can’t hear Olaf anymore—only the heavy panting of the beast. I’m next and I’m dead, I think, and squeeze my eyes shut, barely daring to breathe. I curl up into a ball, clenching my head, waiting for the beast to approach. But the beast never comes. Instead, the air grows silent, and all I hear is the soft sway of the trees and their leaves rustling in the wind.
I don’t know exactly how long it takes, but finally I find the courage to sit up and peek over the altar. The beast has vanished, and Olaf’s body lies prostrate on the ground with blood on his clothes as well as blood pooling in the grass below his lifeless figure.
“Olaf?” I try and say through the handkerchief that’s gagging me. He doesn’t respond. “Olaf?” I say a little louder. Again, no response. I crawl toward him all the while looking to see if the beast will return. Why didn’t the beast eat Olaf? That seems like the only logical reason why it killed him—for food. I sit down next to Olaf and pull out the dagger secured around his thigh. With both hands, I cut the cord around my ankles. Then by placing the dagger between my knees, I manage to saw at the rope around my wrists. It finally loosens and my hands are free to remove the handkerchief.
“Olaf?” I say again, nudging him this time with my index finger. When he doesn’t move, I roll him over onto his back and look at his face. His eyes are open and I can tell immediately that he’s dead.
I gasp and begin to cry, not because I’m sad that he died, or died in such a cruel way, but because if he was the one who kidnapped my mom, I might never find out where she is. The secret may have died with him, unless Maureen or Layla know.
Slowly, I pull myself together, knowing I have to do something. I’m free now and can technically run away. If it weren’t for that stupid detector that’s buried somewhere in my body, I might have a fair shot at escaping this island. I weigh another threat: if I run away, I also risk running into the beast and if that happens, I’ll have no chance of surviving. I consider my choices carefully again and come to the conclusion that the best option is to further investigate the island. Layla and Maureen won’t be expecting Olaf and me back for a few hours anyway, so I must seize the opportunity to do some exploring now. What I find might help me escape down the road, and now that I’ve almost given up on Anthony rescuing me, I need to become completely self-reliant.
Wraithsong Page 48