When Tereka hesitated, Mam said, “Now.”
Somehow the growl in that voice scared Tereka more than if her mother had shrieked. Her heart raced. She turned away, screwed her eyes shut, and clenched her sweaty hands.
She cried out in pain when Mam hit her bare legs with the broom handle.
“That’s one,” said Mam. “Eleven to go. One for every year I’ve put up with such an ugly spawn as you.”
Tereka tried to fight back her screams as her mother beat her. She’d learned long ago that making noise only infuriated her mother. She whimpered as she felt her flesh break and bruise.
When Mam finished, she threw the broom on the floor. “You will stand there until we return. Don’t you move and get blood on your clothes. You’ll be sorry if you do.” She leaned in close. “And don’t even think about telling your da. When he gets back and hears the story, you know he’ll agree with me. You got less than you deserved.”
When the door slammed shut, Tereka closed her eyes. She gripped her skirt tightly and let the tears fall, the tears she’d held back so Mam wouldn’t see her pain. What was wrong with her that her own mother treated her so badly?
It wasn’t fair that Mam always singled her out. Tirk could break a stool or run under a horse and her mother would just smile. For Tereka, asking a simple question would unleash abuse.
Was it because she was a girl? Tirk and Aito were scolded but never ridiculed. Perhaps Mam had only wanted boys.
Or hated her for being ugly. Tereka resembled no one in the family. Her mother had deep auburn hair and brown skin. Da’s hair was dark brown, his bronze skin a few shades lighter than Mam’s. Tirk and Aito were somewhere in between, favoring Da more than their mother.
But her? The only feature she’d inherited was her da’s hair. She often wondered where her golden-tan skin and vivid blue eyes had come from. She’d asked Da once. He’d mumbled something about lighter-skinned grandparents. Then he refused to answer any more questions.
Dark spots danced in front of her and the floor of the room tipped. She rested her hands on the kitchen table, willing herself not to faint.
After a few deep breaths, the room stopped spinning. She let her mind wander into a daydream of someone coming to her rescue, a handsome young man with kind, dark eyes who seized the broom from her cowering mother. And took Tereka far away to a place of light and safety.
The pulsing in her wounds made it difficult to get lost in the fantasy. Instead, thoughts on ways to avoid more abuse jumbled in her mind. How could she prevent this severe kind of punishment? Be more careful? Or maybe try to anticipate her mother’s needs, help her more with Aito?
She pushed away the thought that she was already doing her best, but she couldn’t predict her mother’s rages. She sighed heavily. She didn’t see what she could do about them.
Tereka jerked upright when she heard the front door click open. She turned to see her father step into the house. Her heart sank. He hadn’t been due back until tomorrow. He would be sure to support Mam’s punishment.
“Tereka?” His eyes were round and his square jaw hung open. He kicked the door shut and dropped his pack on the floor. “What happened? Who did this to you?” He took three quick steps to stand next to her.
She thought about what to say that wouldn’t make things worse. “I was punished.”
Da made a strangled noise. “For what?”
“Aito got dirty.”
“Aito got dirty.” There was no mistaking the anger in his voice. Tereka braced herself for more torment.
“My dear girl.” His voice cracked. “My dear, precious girl. I am so sorry.” He touched her cheek with a trembling hand.
Tereka’s eyes widened. He was sorry she was punished? Mam had always told her that Da’s punishments would be far worse than hers, that she was doing Tereka a favor by disciplining her and hiding her atrocious behavior from her father. And that any appeals to her da would only earn her a double dose.
He gently stroked the top of her head. “I’m going to clean you up as best I can.”
Her jaw went slack as he fetched some rags and picked up the bucket of water that stood in the corner of the kitchen. “But Mam will want the water later,” she said.
He knelt beside her. “I don’t care. You need it now.” He dabbed gently at her wounds. “I’m so sorry.” Every time she winced, he said it again. “I’m so sorry.” He wiped the blood from her legs. “Can you stand there for just a few more minutes? I’ve got something for the pain.”
She nodded, unable to speak. One thought chased another. Mam said his punishments would be harsh. But he was always kind when he was home. Was that because he never noticed she did anything wrong?
Then again, Mam never hit her when Da was around. She bit her lip, wondering if Mam had been lying all these years.
Da dug in his pack and produced a small blue jar. “This may sting a bit.” Ever so gently, he patted the cream on her wounds. He was right, it did sting. But only for a second. She let out a long breath as the burning, stinging agony subsided. The ointment had a faint floral scent that was oddly soothing. “Just a few more minutes, dear girl. Let me bandage you up.”
Now that her mind wasn’t consumed with pain, her face flushed. She wanted to crawl under a blanket and never be seen again. She wished he would hurry so she wouldn’t be so exposed.
He tore some cloth into strips. “Lean over the table.” He draped the cloth strips over her backside and legs then wrapped more around her thighs. “Here, hold your skirt just a little higher.” She did as he asked, allowing him to wrap more cloth around her waist, securing the bandages in place. He pulled her skirt down into place. “Right. Now, can you stand?” He put a hand under her arm, lifting her.
Tears welled in her eyes and she swayed against him. She struggled to find words. “Thank you.”
“It’s the least I can do.” He shuddered. “What can I get you? Something to drink? To eat? Or do you want to lie down?”
She flushed and looked down. “Actually, I need the bucket.”
“Of course.” He helped her into the sleeping room to the covered bucket they used during the night when they didn’t want to go to the outdoor privy. “Can you manage?”
She nodded.
“Call if you need me.” He left the bedroom and went into the kitchen.
Tereka used the bucket, almost moaning with relief. She wasn’t sure if she would have been able to wait much longer. Who knows what her mother would have done if she had wet herself. There would have been another beating if Tereka had left the table to do her business in the bucket, that much was sure.
She staggered to her pile of straw and eased herself face down, hissing and wincing with every motion. After a few moments, her da returned. The straw crackled as he sat next to her.
“Tereka, tell me what happened. Surely all this didn’t happen because your brother got dirty.”
Her muscles tensed. What could she tell him without making things worse with her mother? She turned her head to look at him. His dark eyes were strained, his forehead creased. “Well, maybe there was more. Today is Aito’s third birthday.”
“I know. That’s why I came back a day early. Where is everyone?”
“At Aunt Juquila’s.”
Da pulled his eyebrows together. “Why didn’t you go with them?”
“Because I’m never invited.” She gulped, then words tumbled out of her without her meaning to say them. “Because I’m ugly spawn.” She closed her eyes so she couldn’t see his face.
“What?” His voice was a low, menacing growl like thunder that was far away. “Who told you that?”
She squeezed her eyes tighter.
Da stroked her hair. “It was either your mother or your aunt, or both. Am I right?” His tone softened. “Please tell me.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because she’ll punish me.”
When he didn’t respond, she opened her eyes. He sat with
his face in his hands. She tried to come up with something so he wouldn’t be angry. “I’m sorry.”
Da dropped his hands and gasped. “No. No. I’m the one who’s sorry. The one who should be sorry.”
“Sorry about what?”
Tears sparkled in the corners of his eyes. “Tell me. Tereka. Have you been beaten before?”
“Yes.” Her voice shook.
“Did it always happen when I was gone?”
She hesitated. “Yes.”
He flinched. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“What?” It was her turn to be puzzled. “You didn’t know?”
“Of course, I didn’t know! Do you think I would want you to be abused like this?” His face flushed and his eyes narrowed. “When did this start?”
“About three years ago, I guess.”
“Has it ever been this bad?”
“No. She’s never hit me on my bare skin before. And today, it seemed like something broke and she took out her anger on me. I don’t know for what.” Her breath caught in her throat. “Why is it always me? Tirk never gets in trouble. Or Aito.” She hated how her voice sounded whiny. “It’s not fair.”
“No, it’s not, dear girl. But I still don’t understand why you never told me.”
Tereka paused. Should she tell him? His kindness now didn’t change the fact that she’d be left alone with Mam while he was off to do his trading. She might be punished a hundredfold.
But all her da had said and done since he’d come home was to help her. Her heart beat faster as she decided what to say. “Because she said that whatever punishment she gave me, you’d do twice as much.”
She looked down as she spoke, bracing herself for his reaction.
There was a moment of silence. Then he said quietly, “What?”
Tereka repeated her words. Then she looked at him. His mouth had fallen open. He snapped it shut and ground his teeth together. She’d never seen his face so dark, his eyes so fierce. Not angry. Enraged. She shuddered. “Please don’t be angry with me, Da.”
His eyes softened. “No, Tereka, I’m not angry with you.” His voice shook. “I promise you one thing. This will never happen to you again. Ever.”
A weight lifted from her, then fell back on her with a thud. Could he promise that? He was often gone, sometimes for a week or more at a time. And when he argued with Mam, she’d mutter a few words to him and he’d back down. She buried her face in the sheet covering the straw.
“Tereka.” Da laid his hand on her head. “Can I get you anything? Or would you rather sleep?”
“I’m thirsty.”
He fetched a mug of water from the kitchen.
She drank it down in one gulp, savoring the coolness on her dry and scratchy throat.
“More? Or some tea? You need something for the pain.”
“Tea, if you please.” Da, she knew, had a small stash of tea he picked up on his travels. Tea that could reduce fever and ease pain. He took the mug from her and returned to the kitchen.
Once he left the room, Tereka wrapped her arms around herself. This couldn’t be happening. None of it. She was beaten and Da was angry with Mam, not her. He was helping her. It didn’t feel real.
When Da returned with a steaming mug of tea, Tereka rolled to her side. “Um, shouldn’t we clean up the kitchen? Empty the bucket?”
“You’re not cleaning anything. You need to rest. And I’m not leaving you alone until I’ve had a word with Groa. Your mother has a lot to answer for.” He gestured to the mug. “Drink up.”
She sipped, savoring the warmth in her stomach that echoed the growing hope in her soul. Da was going to defend her against her mother. Maybe she wouldn’t have to wait for a fantasy boy to rescue her after all.
3
Tereka shifted on her straw. The sharp ends poked her skin, prodding her out of her uneasy doze, part of her remaining alert for sounds of her mother’s return. From the shadows on the floor she guessed she’d slept an hour or two. Cautiously she stretched one leg, then the other. All that remained of the stinging pain was a soreness that hurt when she moved. What magic healing had Da done? She twitched a corner of her mouth. Too bad there was no such thing as magic. She’d have to ask him about that salve he’d used. It would be good to have on hand the next time Mam got out her broomstick.
She turned her head to discern the source of the dull muttering sound in the room. Da sat on the straw he shared with Mam. He was staring into space, his lips moving, shaking his head. Clearly, he was troubled about something. His shoulders slumped and he had an air of defeat or failure about him.
Could it be that he really didn’t know about Mam’s abusiveness? Tereka pursed her lips. Mam was unpredictable, her moods changing by the minute. And they were always worse when Da was gone.
A clicking sound told her someone was opening the front door. She raised herself from the bed. Da motioned for her to stay where she was.
“Girl!” The harsh tone of Mam’s voice made Tereka cower. “I ordered you to stay where you were. Now you’re really going to get it.” She stormed into the sleeping room and advanced on Tereka.
Tereka covered her head with her hands and curled her legs to her chest.
“I don’t think so,” Da said.
Tereka blinked. Had she heard that right?
Mam spun around. “When did you get here?”
“A few hours ago. And it was quite a welcome. There I was imagining we’d all celebrate Aito’s birthday. What do I find instead?” Da had started speaking in a cool tone. Now his voice was as cold as a gust of winter’s wind. “My daughter half-naked, bleeding and beaten.”
Tereka stared first at Da, then Mam. Da was defending her against her mother. Something Mam had said would never happen.
Her mother pulled herself up to her full height and stuck her chin out. “She deserved it.”
“Did she, Groa? What was her horrible crime?” Tereka didn’t miss the sarcasm in Da’s voice. She wondered if Mam had.
“She allowed Aito to muddy himself while she was supposed to be watching him. When she complained that I wouldn’t allow her to come with us to Juquila’s, I was forced to restrain her.”
“Is that a fact? Would Tirk tell me the same story?”
“Don’t you bring my son into this. It’s bad enough he has to live with your spawn.”
“Groa. There was a time when you were glad of her— ”
Another person sauntered into the room. “Oh, Tarkio, it’s been too long,” cooed Juquila, Mam’s twin sister.
“Juquila. It’s always a pleasure.” From the edge in Da’s voice, Tereka wasn’t so sure he meant it.
“For me as well. Tell me, why are you giving my sister a hard time?”
“Perhaps it’s because she’s been giving our daughter a hard time.”
Tereka’s breath caught. Horrible would have been a better word.
Juquila waved her hand in the air. “The girl’s difficult to manage. I keep telling Groa she’s not hard enough on her.”
Da spoke softly. “So you think that beating her till the blood flows down her legs and forcing her to stand half-naked for hours isn’t hard enough.” By the time he finished speaking, he’d raised his voice and it shook with suppressed rage.
Juquila took a step back. She opened her mouth, then closed it and shrugged. “Wonder what she did this time?”
“I don’t care what she did. This is never to happen again. Do you understand me?” As he spoke, he stepped to Mam. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her toward him. “Do you understand?”
“Perfectly.” Groa shook off his hands. “It’s you who doesn’t understand.”
“About what?”
“Today is Aito’s third birthday.”
“What of it? And thank you, by the way, for not waiting until I was due home tomorrow to have the feast.”
Mam smirked. “Aito is our third child. He has lived for three years. And the other two still live.”
Da fr
owned. “So?”
Juquila laughed, her large, dark eyes glittering. “Not as quick as you usually are. Too bad.”
Da glanced from one sister to the other. “Third child. Three years. You’re not serious.”
“Oh, but I am.” Mam’s smile widened. “You know the law. Once a couple’s third child reaches its third birthday, and the other two are still alive, they can separate.”
“You want to separate.” Da’s tone was flat, as if he was asking for more tea.
“It’s what I’ve been waiting for these past twelve years.” She curled her lip in Tereka’s direction. “Ever since her. You’ve used me long enough. I don’t want you here one more day. And take your road child with you.”
Tereka gasped. Road child was one insult Mam had never flung at her before.
Da took a deep breath. “You will not stop me from seeing my boys.”
Tereka’s skin tingled. Was Da choosing her over her brothers?
“Whatever you like. Just so you’re not living here.” Mam spun on her heel left the room.
Juquila smirked at Da. “How I enjoyed seeing that look on your face. The stupefied one.” She followed her sister into the kitchen.
Tereka stared at Da for a long moment. They were being thrown out, like so much rubbish. Mam didn’t want them. The stab of rejection was replaced with the balm of relief. She wouldn’t have to endure Mam’s abuse anymore. Good riddance to her, but what about her brothers? And what did her mother mean, calling her Da’s road child? Her breath caught in her throat. Did that mean Mam wasn’t—. No. She stopped herself from completing that thought.
Da stood staring at the floor, rubbing his chin. Then he nodded as if coming to a decision. He walked to the door to the kitchen. “Tirk, come in here.”
Tirk, tall with the same ruddy bronze skin and dark eyes as his father, sidled into the room. “Yes, Da?”
“I’m sure you know what’s going on here.”
Tirk’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know until today— ”
Da raised a hand. “Help your sister pack her things while I get mine together.” When Tirk didn’t move, he said, “Now.”
It didn’t take long to pack. Like most villagers, they only owned three sets of clothing, a winter cloak, and little else. Two rucksacks were enough to carry it all. Da sent Tirk and Tereka into the kitchen, saying he had to finish up a few things. Tirk picked up Tereka’s pack and helped her shuffle through the door.
Flicker of the Flame: A YA Epic Fantasy Page 2
