by K. T. Webb
“You can take a seat here,” Renata gestured to a padded chair in the corner opposite the fire.
“First, you must drink this, while I drink the other brew. Then you lie down. Once you are asleep, I will begin my work.”
Honor followed instructions, sitting in the chair and accepting the warm mug. She took a tentative sip and fought the urge to vomit. The cinnamon scent was a lie.
“I should have told you, it is best to just drink it all at once. Better to taste it on one big gulp than be forced to savor that swill for any longer.”
“Thanks. I will do my best. That was terrible. What’s in it?”
Renata patted her knee as she poured her own herbal drink. “A little of this, a little of that. All you need to know is it works. Who knows, maybe your mark will guide you toward the practitioner’s life and you’ll find out for yourself.”
Honor offered a nervous laugh in response as she prepared to chug the disgusting drink. She could not help but wonder what it was like for Renata to be a practitioner. Did the woman see the same things she would see? Or did she get her own visions that led her to create the mark that would permanently decorate each person’s body?
“The time is running out. You have mere seconds to finish your drink and lie down.” Renata’s gentle urgency set Honor’s mind at ease.
She took a deep breath, staring into the cup in her hands. Without another thought, she brought the mug to her lips and pulled gulp after gulp of warm liquid into her mouth. She almost welcomed the burning sensation against her tongue because of the horrendous flavor. Honor sputtered and coughed as soon as she finished swallowing.
“That’s it, now, come here and lie on the bed. That stuff works quickly.” Renata held the suspended bed in place as Honor sat on the edge, then stretched her body out to fill the length of it.
The room started to grow foggy, and even the tiniest of sounds seemed amplified. Renata stood over the bed, holding Honor’s hand. She was whispering something in a language Honor had never heard. Her limbs felt heavy, she could not move. The room faded away to blackness.
Honor opened her eyes to find herself sitting on the edge of her cot. From the level of light flooding through the linen walls of her tent, she decided she must have slept well past noon. Rowan must have carried her back to camp. Her mark.
Honor pulled her shirt up to see her rib cage. There was nothing there. She did not understand. Had Renata not finished the transition ceremony? What did it mean if she did not have a mark? With shaking hands, she stood and opened the tent.
The camp was in ruins. Piles of torn fabric lay where tents had once stood. A fire had burned to embers. The encampment she had called home looked as though it had been ripped to shreds. A thought struck her at the top of her head, slowly creeping down to her shoulders, past her chest and landing in her midsection. The baby canthion. Could it have caused this much destruction?
As she walked the path through the camp, she began to notice a nightmarish scene unfold. Blood stains soaked the fabric that once housed her family. Honor was afraid to pull the cloth away, afraid of who she would find beneath.
“Rowan? Maris? Gray! Anyone?” she called into the silence.
“Honor?” Maris’ voice sounded weak.
With her stomach turning, Honor gingerly stepped around the wreckage in search of the woman who raised her as her own. When she finally found her, Honor released a heart-wrenching sob. A deep gash ran the length of Maris’ stomach, life spilled out of her as she lay in a pool of blood.
“Do not move, Maris. I am here.”
Honor took a piece of the tent and gently began applying pressure to the wound. In order to properly address it, she had to pull up the woman’s shirt, exposing her mark. Honor gasped and fell backward. The mark that decorated Maris’ side was colorful and intricate. Honor had always been told Gray and Maris found their destiny in each other, but according to the mark, Maris’ destiny encompassed more than her marriage.
Maris groaned softly, bringing Honor back to the task at hand. She pressed gently on the wound, staring into the woman’s eyes.
“Shhh, it is going to be okay,” Honor assured her.
“No. I do not have much time. Do not argue. I know it is bad.”
Tears filled Honor’s eyes. Maris gripped her hand as she faded away. Her vision rippled as the hand she held was replaced with another. Suddenly, the woman dying in front of her was a vaguely familiar shadow.
“Mama?” Her voice surprised her as it came out. She sounded like a child.
“Honor, you need to find your own way in the world. I am sorry I have to leave you so soon. Know that I love you.”
Tears burned her eyes as she inhabited the body of her five-year-old self. How much pain could she take? Why did her mind decide to bring her back to this moment while Maris lay in the woods bleeding to death?
“Do not stay here. There’s nothing for you here. You need to find your own way in the world, get away from the village. Stay away from Pallisaide until the time is right,” her mother whispered.
“I do not know what that means, Mama.”
“One day, you will. Just remember that they will come looking for you if you do not stay hidden.”
The woman’s hand fell limply from Honor’s grasp. She was dead. Strong arms gripped Honor around the shoulders dragging her away from the body.
“Come on, Honor, we need to go. There is nothing we can do for her anymore,” Gray hissed in her ear.
She did not recognize her surroundings. They appeared to be in a village, but it certainly was not Milltown. The buildings rose higher than any she had ever seen. This was no village, this was a city. A large, imposing city that pushed around them like a narrowed cavern. Gray rushed ahead as he led her through the alleys between the close buildings.
“Where are we?”
“Pallisaide.”
“How the hell did we get here?” She panicked as the words her mother told her moments ago echoed in her ears.
“You would abandon the fight to chase me?” A familiar voice called from the shadows.
Honor found herself holding a sword, parrying the blows of someone she could not see. The fight was intense and clearly fueled by passion on both sides. Honor was losing ground, her assailant deflecting each hit. Finally, the moment came when she knew he was going to win. He swung his sword high above his head, preparing to strike her down.
“No. This is not you. Please, they have already turned you into a monster, do not help them destroy all of Alderwood.” Rowan stood between Honor and the unknown man.
“Rowan! Get out of the way!” Honor wailed.
Suddenly, she was running again. Desperate to get away from where she had been. She did not see the outcome of the fight. Had she won? Was Rowan safe? She crashed through a hanging sheet that somehow bordered the edge of Ternion Forest. Honor stopped short. Rowan was ahead of her. He showed no sign of having been in a fight. They were no longer in Pallisaide, now they were on the road toward home. He continued on as though he expected to magically transport to the middle of a wooded path. Honor stopped, aware of something moving to her left.
“Are you not coming?” Rowan inquired from ten feet ahead.
“Shhh. Listen.”
Without warning, a wild boar came crashing through the trees. From its movement alone, Honor knew it had not eaten for some time. It was desperate. It was scared. It was starving. Curved tusks glinted in the sunlight revealing tiny cracks and imperfections indicative of malnutrition. This was a frantic attempt to attack prey and devour its carcass. Rowan had become the unwitting target of starved desperation. She drew her bow and aimed the arrow in one fluid motion as it barreled for Rowan who was frozen in surprise. Before Honor could do anything to defend him, a canthion attacked from above. In a flurry of flashing claws and flying fur, the canthion dispatched the boar. Their eyes locked and, in that moment, she saw it. The canthion was hers.
In the blink of an eye, the scene changed once more t
o an undefined location. Try as she might, Honor could not make out the details of the space she occupied. The only clear feature was the face of a girl around her age. There was something so familiar about her that Honor wondered if she was looking at an older version of herself. But, it could not have been her; this girl had a blonde ponytail trailing down her back in a curly mess. Their similarities were found in the shape of their eyes, but where the stranger had eyes that rivaled the leaves on the trees in summer, Honor had eyes a few shades darker than honey that sparkled with gold flecks in the sun.
The girl reached out to touch Honor. As their hands met, a strange awareness coursed through her bones. They were connected in a way Honor could not begin to understand. The girl looked down at Honor’s hands, a momentary look of horror passed across her face. Honor followed her gaze downward to find a bloody knife in her hands. When she looked back up to try to offer an explanation, the girl was wearing a crown and surrounded by a throng of cheering people. Honor looked once more into the eyes of the other young woman, as everything faded away the last thing she saw were the emerald eyes of the stranger she desperately wanted to find.
Honor gasped in the darkness. Her body ached, her head was foggy, and she was lying on a cold, hard surface. As she tried to sit up, her side caught with a stinging sensation. Honor realized she was not wearing a shirt, her torso was wrapped in a cloth bandage. Her mark? Had it all been a dream? The images that flowed through her mind came back to her in full force. Maris was still alive, she had to be. The knife in her hands had not been real. None of it had been. None of it, that is, except for the memory of being at her dying mother’s bedside.
Honor reflected on the things she had seen. The memory of her mother had been unexpected. She had no idea if the words of warning were a memory or an effect of the herbs she drank. Some small part of her wondered if it was real, otherwise, she would not have struck out on her own, perhaps she would not have ended up in Ternion Forest with Maris and Gray. Her life could have turned out very differently had she not followed those instructions as a child. But why was she to avoid Pallisaide? And if she was supposed to stay away from the largest city in Alderwood until the time was right, how would she know when she was to go there? Honor could not help but wonder if all visions left their recipients with more questions about their future than answers. She rubbed her eyes, trying to remove the last bits of grogginess from her mind. Vibrant green eyes flashed into view. Who was the girl she had recognized so suddenly?
She stumbled to the chair in the corner and grabbed the corset she had worn to Milltown. She silently cursed herself for not changing before they left the camp. She pulled on the restrictive top and carefully fastened it just tight enough to keep it from falling off. Once she was satisfied with her coverings, she made her way back down the hallway toward the front of Renata’s shop.
The sun was beginning to rise outside. Honor wondered what Rowan was doing. Had he wandered off to find something to do? Had he visited the girl who practically threw herself at him each time they came for supplies? Before she could reach the front door, Renata’s voice startled her from the shadows.
“Leaving so soon? I told you I would answer your questions about your mother when you woke.”
“Oh. I nearly forgot. My head is still a bit fuzzy.” Honor sat next to Renata on the low padded bench.
“I knew your mother from the time she was a young girl. She grew up near here. She was beautiful. You have the exact same shade of hair she had.”
Honor knew those things, she wanted more information about how she came to be. She knew her mother, her father was a complete mystery. She wanted desperately to ask about him, but Renata had already continued on with her story.
“She was a mischievous girl. Always running off to play when her parents expected her to do her chores. Your grandparents were good people, but they did not live to see their daughter return from Pallisaide. That was the year the Frozen Fever swept through Alderwood, no village was left untouched. Milltown suffered losses like we had never seen before.”
Honor furrowed her brow. She had never heard of the Frozen Fever. Many illnesses had devastated certain sectors of Alderwood through the years, but none had been as widespread as Renata was indicating. The practitioner seemed to read her thoughts as she placed a hand on Honor’s knee.
“The Frozen Fever crept upon us at the onset of winter. Those who suffered from it were overtaken by a fever high enough to drive them to delirium. But the symptom that marked this apart from any other illness we had encountered was the pale blue hue covering the skin of the afflicted. They were like ice to the touch. Many thought it was almost as if they were being frozen from the inside out.”
“That sounds horrific. You say it affected all of Alderwood? That seems unusual.”
“Oh, it was. Highly unusual. They never discovered the source of the disease. Regardless, many died, and among them were your grandparents.”
“Renata? This may sound odd, but what was her name?”
She blinked in response. “Your mother? Her name was Laurel.”
Honor smiled. It was a beautiful name for the woman she remembered as kind and soft. Her memories may have been clouded with only the positive thoughts because she had so few memories to begin with. Now, she knew she was Honor, daughter of Laurel . . . but her heart was still missing the other half of her story. Who had her father been?
“What about my father? Was he from here?”
Renata shook her head. “It has been many years. The details have become foggy. She never told me who your father was. I do remember that your mother ran off to the great city and returned terrified for her safety. She also had a secret growing inside her.”
“The great city? You mean Pallisaide?” Visions of following Gray through the alleys in Pallisaide resurfaced. Honor shook her head, she had never been there. Perhaps she would be going there in the future.
“Yes. She had gone to follow her destiny.”
“Do you know what her mark was?”
Renata shook her head. “That’s not how the magic works. I am not aware of the mark you are to receive, and I am still under the influence of the herbs when I dress the wound. I do not even know what’s under your bandages and we only finished an hour or so ago.”
“Do you know if she found her destiny?”
“I do not. She never said.” Renata looked at her with sad eyes.
“So, my father could still be in Pallisaide?” Could he be the reason her mother told her not to return? Or had something happened to him? Perhaps her mother and father had an affair or were somehow forbidden to be together; the creation of a child would have alerted everyone to their relationship. Honor’s stomach tightened, what if her father was dead? What if he had died before her mother fled to Milltown? She shook her head, there were too many questions and seemed to be no possibility of answers.
“I wish I could give you more information about the time she spent in Pallisaide. I wish she had told me who your father was, but she did not. The only thing I know for sure is your mother did not want anyone from that place to know about you. I often wondered if she was afraid of the man who was responsible for her condition.”
Honor knew exactly what she meant by “her condition,” but she chose to ignore the outdated phrasing. It did not sound like her mother was on the best of terms with her father, and it did not sound like traveling to Pallisaide was a good idea for her. The cryptic deathbed message her mother had delivered during her vision was confusing and frustrating. At the very least, Honor knew if she decided to seek out her father, she would have to start in Pallisaide. Honor also knew for certain she would end up in Pallisaide in the near future, and she was not going to be safe.
Chapter 4
When Honor exited Renata’s shop, she was relieved to find Rowan leaning against the cobbled brick building waiting. Her mind flashed to the vision of Maris, his mother, dying in front of her. Honor had to remind herself that the strange visions she had expe
rienced while sleeping were not fact and may never happen.
She refused to believe she could do nothing to prevent the terrible massacre from her visions. The way she saw it, there were two viable options for keeping her family alive: She could warn Gray and Rowan of the things she had seen, or she could make it her life’s mission to protect them from any harm. Even as the options crossed her mind, she knew neither was possible. Fate would play out however it was meant to, and there was not a thing she could do to prevent it. Revisiting the visions made her wonder what horrors others had witnessed while they slept and if any of those had come true.
“Hey, sleepyhead. It is about time you woke up,” Rowen teased. “Let’s go to the inn down the road and grab some breakfast. You’ll need to replenish before the walk home.” He offered her his arm which she took gladly.
She was not exactly weak, but she did not feel like the time she had spent “sleeping” had been restful. Now, her mind was filled with more questions than it had been before. Some had nothing to do with her mark or the visions that accompanied it. Renata had given her information about the father she never knew, but it had only brought more questions. Honor now felt a twinge of sadness when she thought about her young mother. She was barely more than a girl when she ran off to Pallisaide. She had been looking for a destiny that she may not have fulfilled. Honor felt empty for the woman she barely remembered. She had not even known her name until Renata told her. Laurel. It was a beautiful name for the woman who gave her life.
“You are awfully quiet, Honor. How are you feeling?” Rowan’s face was etched with concern.
“Oh, I am fine. Just thinking. Renata told me a little about my mother, but I still do not know anything about my father. It sounds like it is for the best. Apparently, she came back from Pallisaide pregnant and afraid.”
Honor did not know what reaction she expected from him, but his interest level seemed appropriate. He unloaded questions that made her wonder why she had not thought to ask them herself. He wondered if Renata had been given instructions for Honor’s care upon her death. He asked if she had inquired about the cause of her mother’s death; all Honor really knew was that she had gotten sick and died. Was her illness preventable, or was it the result of something Honor herself should be on the look-out for?
