Facing the Gray

by Carol Beth Anderson

  Narre’s gift was next, and Tavi marveled at the high-heeled boots she pulled out of a velvet-lined box. “I know they’re terribly uncomfortable,” Narre said, “but I thought you might like them for special occasions.” Tavi grinned, remembering the awful boots she’d worn in Savala. She’d told Narre all about them.

  When Tavi opened the round box Tullen had wrapped, her mouth dropped open. It was a beautiful hat, made of burgundy felt, with three small feathers in the silk band.

  “When a young lady in the Meadow turns sixteen, she’s given her first ‘women’s hat,’” he explained. “I hope this one will do.”

  “It’s perfect,” Tavi said, trying it on and relishing the feel of the soft felt cradling her head.

  After a few more minutes of chatting and laughter, Narre and Sall stood. “We told your mother we’d help prepare dinner,” Narre said.

  Misty started to push herself to her feet. “I’ll come along.”

  “Why don’t you stay here, Misty?” Tullen suggested. “I’ll help with dinner, and you and Tavi can relax.”

  Tavi and Misty thanked him, and Misty sat down again. When the others left, they lay back on the quilt, enjoying the afternoon sun and talking. More than once, they filled the clearing with their laughter.

  After three quarters of an hour, Misty sat up. “I suppose we should pack this food and get back to the house,” she said. “Dinner may be ready soon.”

  “I can’t even think of eating again!” Tavi rose and helped Misty clean up the leftovers from their picnic.

  “Leave the decorations,” Misty said. “We’ll come back after dinner and light the lanterns.”

  Footsteps approached from the north. Both sisters looked toward the noise, then exchanged curious glances. Tullen, Narre, or Sall would have approached from the south, and few people wandered into this part of the forest.

  A large man emerged from the shadowy trees. He had unkempt hair, a bushy beard, and muscles that strained against his dirty shirt. Tavi shrank back.

  Misty, however, stood, folded her arms, and addressed the man. “Are you lost?”

  “Not lost,” the man replied. “Fact of the matter is, I think I found what I was seeking. Is one of you Tavi?”

  Tavi’s eyes widened, but she remained seated and silent.

  “I am,” Misty replied, stepping toward the man. Tavi stared at her sister, but she didn’t correct her.

  “About time,” the man said. He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled, the sound shrill and loud. “Got someone we’d like you to meet, Tavi.” He repeated the whistle.

  A woman’s voice traveled through the trees. “I’m coming.” A couple of seconds later, she appeared. She was tall and young, perhaps Misty’s age. Her entire body was thin—shoulders, waist, hips, even her face. A cloth covered her mouth, and her first word to the man was, “Kerchief!” He grabbed a cloth tied around his neck and pulled it over his mouth, just like hers. The woman made a small gesture toward Tavi and Misty. “Is it one of them?”

  “That one,” the man said, pointing at Misty.

  She raised her eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

  “Said her name is Tavi. Not a common name.”

  “I just . . . well, I thought she’d be younger.” The woman turned and examined Tavi. “But not that young.”

  “Guess she grew up a bit since her friend saw her last, huh?”

  “I suppose.” The strangers both approached Misty, who stood her ground, though Tavi could see her sister’s shoulders stiffen.

  “I’m not going to hurt you.” The woman’s voice was kind. “I want to meet you, is all.” Tavi watched as she narrowed her eyes, which rapidly filled with a subdued, gray light Tavi had not seen since Savala. The woman gazed intently at Misty, who returned the stare—and then Misty’s whole body loosened, as if she were a rag doll.

  The man was waiting behind Misty. He caught her under her arms, holding her up.

  Tavi could barely breathe. “What did you do?”

  “She’s asleep,” the woman said. “I meant it when I said I wouldn’t hurt her.”

  Tavi snapped out of her stupor and thought of the thing she desired the most, which at that moment was to see the gray-blessed woman lying on the forest floor with a bloody nose and a few teeth missing. It was a more violent desire than Tavi was used to, but she focused on it and urged her gifts to fill her body. But movement caught her eye, shattering her focus and extinguishing the spark of magic. Tullen approached at top speed, his gifted feet a blur. He crouched and slowed just enough to pick up Tavi, crushing her against his chest. In less than a second, they’d exited the clearing together.

  “Put me down! We’ve got to go back!” Tavi hissed.

  Tullen ran for a few more seconds before he stopped and set her down, looking around to be sure they were alone. “Of course we’ll go back,” he whispered. “But we have to be completely silent. Activate your gifts as we go. We’ll find a hiding place.” He patted his back, and Tavi jumped on. “Thank Sava I came back to fetch you for dinner,” he said as he began to run again.

  Tullen’s ears were glowing with magic, and in a voice so low it blended with the other sounds of the forest, Tavi explained how the tall woman had put Misty to sleep.

  Seconds later, the two of them again reached the trees near the clearing. By then, Tavi’s body was full of magic. Tullen found a spot far enough back that they were unlikely to be seen. He set Tavi down. She gazed past the trees, into the clearing.

  The man and woman appeared to be arguing about the best way to carry Misty.

  Tavi sent magic from her feet into the earth beneath the clearing, sensing where the underlying stone was cracked and weak. The man and woman stood on either side of Misty, their boots almost touching her prone body. Tavi rejected the idea of using ravines to separate Misty from them; they were too close together. Instead, she would shake the ground beneath them, hopefully just enough to frighten the strangers into leaving, but not enough to put Misty in real danger.

  Her decision made, Tavi willed additional power into her feet. But as soon as her magic attempted to affect the ground under the clearing, it hit what felt like an unbreakable wall.

  Panicked, Tavi looked at Tullen. “Resistance,” she whispered. Tullen’s eyes grew wide. “Trying again,” Tavi said, but the wall that blocked her gift was immovable. She knew if she pushed too hard, her magic would dissipate. Forcing herself to breathe deeply, Tavi reviewed each of her gifts in turn, seeking one that would save her sister.

  “With them standing over her, I can’t run in and grab her,” Tullen whispered, his voice just as quiet as Tavi’s. “They’d be on me immediately. As soon as there’s an opening, I’ll go.”

  Tavi nodded. At that moment, a tall, young woman with thick, glossy hair entered the clearing. She, too, had a kerchief around her mouth, but Tavi recognized her in a moment. “Reba,” she gasped.

  Reba rushed to where Misty lay. “Why do you have Misty?” she cried.

  “Misty?” The man threw his arms up. “She said she was Tavi!”

  The three began to argue, and Tavi desperately attempted to send magic through her feet into the ground, her efforts just as useless as they’d been the first two times. She racked her brain—none of her other gifts would help here. Tavi pushed harder against the resistance and felt some of her magic slipping away. She stopped, hanging on to the remaining power still coursing through her.

  Tavi shifted her attention to the ongoing discussion. “There was someone with her?” Reba asked.

  “Just a little girl,” the man said. “Some fellow came through here, fast as a falcon, and picked her up.”

  “How old was she?” Reba asked, her voice anxious.

  “Probably twelve, thirteen,” the woman said.

  “Or,” Reba said, volume rising, “she could have been a sixteen-year-old who looks like she’s twelve or thirteen?”

  “I suppose,” the man said.

  Tavi had the ridiculous urge to insist to
these people that she looked at least fourteen years old. She used her indignation to push her magic toward the ground, where resistance swallowed it instantly. She looked at Tullen, her face burning with fury. “Resistance won’t let up,” she whispered. “We need to go in.”

  “Wait until they move,” Tullen said. “If the man grabs us, that woman will put us to sleep.”

  “I can distract them while you get Misty.”

  “They’ll take you!”

  As Reba waved her arms, exclaiming that they’d all be in trouble, the man sighed loudly. He squatted behind Misty and pulled her up, holding her to him with one of his beefy arms. “Are you sure this isn’t her?” he asked Reba, his free hand tilting Misty’s lolling head upward so her face was visible.

  “It’s Misty!” Reba said. “She’s twenty-eight years old! How could you think a woman who’s almost thirty was sixteen? And of course I’m sure; she looks exactly the same as she did when I saw her a year ago!”

  The man cursed, dropping Misty unceremoniously to the ground, where her head landed with a thunk. Again, Tavi gasped, and Tullen put a firm hand on her shoulder. She tried her magic, and it still refused to move the ground or even enter it.

  The large man was still squatting next to Misty, cursing under his breath over and over. Scattered sunlight glinted off something in his hand. Tavi squinted, and he moved his arm just enough for her to see what it was: a long knife. She took a step forward, but this time it wasn’t resistance stopping her; it was Tullen, his arms gripping her so tightly she couldn’t hope to pull away.

  “We have to get her,” she whispered, pushing her magic into the ground with as much strength as she could manage.

  “We can’t,” he replied, just as quietly.

  “We have to!” Her magic was nearly gone now, most of it absorbed by the wall of resistance.

  Tullen’s only reply was his immovability. Tavi squirmed and twisted. She used every escape move she’d learned in training, but Tullen knew all the same moves, and he countered them, holding her tight. It was the quietest fight she’d ever had, and the most infuriating.

  The man knelt next to Misty, and his movement caught the attention of the woman who’d put Misty to sleep. “What are you doing, Yamah?” she demanded.

  “She seen me, without a kerchief. Can’t send her home now.”

  “Tavi saw you too,” the woman replied. “Don’t do something stupid!”

  “We’re gonna get Tavi,” Yamah said, “soon as we’re done here.” And without a further word, he brought the knife down.

  Tavi’s entire body reacted all at once.

  Her eyes slammed shut with the force of cellar doors in a storm.

  Her lungs drew one massive gasp, then ceased moving, as if by stopping the breath inside her, she could halt the knife as well.

  And though her eyes refused to watch, her feet were frantic to reach her sister. They churned beneath her, scuffing the dirt and leaves once, twice, again. Then they left the ground, her entire body lifted by the unyielding ropes of muscle and flesh holding her back. Tullen would not let her go.

  Her instincts turned inside-out, and suddenly she desperately needed to see Misty. Her body reversed its reactions.

  Her feet stilled.

  Her eyes opened with the force of hope. That the knife had stopped in its trajectory. That she’d been imagining things all along.

  Her gaze focused on her sister.

  But it wasn’t Misty. It couldn’t be. More times than she could count, Tavi had embraced her sister, burying her face into that smooth, soft neck. This could not be Misty’s throat, for it was open, utterly open, as if it were crying for the injustice of the moment with words of liquid red.

  Tavi’s lungs at last resumed their work, releasing her pent-up breath in a tremendous scream. One of Tullen’s arms went under her knees, and the other stayed across her back, holding her tightly. He ran.

  Tavi heard the panicked voices of the people in the clearing, but she couldn’t decipher their words over her own shrieks. “I can heal her! Bring me back! Let me heal her!” Tullen continued to run, though Tavi screamed her demands ceaselessly.

  It might have been seconds, or it might have been hours, when Tullen skidded to a stop in front of Tavi’s kitchen door. He threw it open and carried Tavi inside. His voice rose, even above hers.

  “Lock the doors! Lock the windows! Jevva, Mey! Lock them now!”

  Chapter Four

  He kissed his mother, left his town.

  He took up arms and joined the war.

  Yet when he saw a man struck down,

  The nameless soldier fought no more.

  -From Relin the Fierce, Author Unknown

  Reba Minnalen ran. Her lungs burned, she had a stitch in her side, and her skirt kept threatening to trip her, despite her holding it up with one hand.

  Wrey led the way, her long legs seeming to contain endless strength. Yamah ran between Wrey and Reba. His legs were long too, but he had a lot of bulk to carry around, and his breaths sounded just as labored as Reba’s.

  And still, they ran.

  The clearing where everything had gone wrong was only two miles from the western edge of the forest. Two miles, Reba told herself. Anyone can run two miles. But they were hard miles, full of undergrowth and rocks, not to mention tree branches. Reba could swear the branches were alive, reaching out to slap her in the face whenever they got the chance.

  It didn’t help that she was beyond distressed by what she’d just witnessed. She tried to watch where she was going, but her vision kept filling with tears, and she couldn’t stop picturing Yamah slitting Misty’s throat. Reba shook her head hard, trying to drive the image out of her mind. It didn’t work. That’s not what I wanted, her mind cried over and over.

  At last, they exited the forest. They continued running across an overgrown field to an abandoned barn. At the entrance, Reba stopped and bent over, pressing her hands to her knees, fighting to regain her breath.

  “Reba.” Wrey’s voice sounded normal, like she’d been taking a nice stroll instead of running through the forest. “You’ve known Sella the longest. I think you should tell her what happened.”

  Too tired to argue, Reba stood and entered the barn. Sella was kneeling, greasing the axels of their wagon. After taking a minute to regulate her breathing, Reba told Sella the truth.

  “Is he a complete idiot?” Sella shouted, her voice echoing around the stark space. “How could the two of you let this happen?”

  “I didn’t let anything happen!” Reba cried. “I knew her personally! Do you think I wanted to see that?”

  Sella stood and called, “Wrey, get in here!”

  Wrey entered, and Sella beckoned her close. In a low voice, Sella said, “Bring Yamah in. Once he’s in the wagon, put him to sleep.”

  Wrey left and returned a moment later with Yamah. His arms were folded, a belligerent expression on his face.

  “Sit in the doorway of the wagon, Yamah,” Sella said.

  “Why?”

  “Because I need to talk to you, and I don’t like you towering over me.” She gestured at the low door on the back of the wagon.

  “Fine.” Yamah opened the door and pulled himself inside, settling with his legs extended over the wagon’s edge.

  “Wrey, tell him what you just told me,” Sella said.

  Reba watched as Wrey turned to Yamah, her eyes already glowing. His gaze met hers, and he began to fall forward. All three women rushed up, shoving their hands against his chest as hard as they could. His momentum shifted, and his upper body collapsed backward, his head making a terrible clonk on the wooden wagon floor.

  Reba stared at him. One of his hands was splayed open next to his hip, and the light from the barn door illuminated the dried blood covering it. She swallowed and said, “I’ll help you tie him.”

  “All right,” Sella said. “We’ll do it as we travel. Wrey, you’re driving. Let’s get away from here as fast as we can.”

  A few
minutes later, Yamah’s legs had joined the rest of him in the wagon, and they were on the road. Calling it a “road” was a stretch though; it was a dirt path, barely wide enough for their enclosed wagon.

  The previous year, Ash and Aldin had conveyed Reba and Narre along the main roads between Oren and Savala. Konner had later admonished them about the trail they’d left, “so clear, a blind man could have followed it.”

  This trip was different. They were staying away from civilization. When they needed supplies, Wrey and Sella took turns riding a single horse into small towns, drawing as little attention as possible.

  When Konner had told Reba she’d be “taking a little trip,” she’d been excited, expecting to stay in cozy inns and be waited on in dining rooms and pubs. Instead, she was again stuck in the back of the stuffy, enclosed wagon. At least on this trip, they usually kept the wagon’s shutters open, giving them all a little fresh air.

  The windows also brought in enough light for Sella to dig through their stores until she found a long, thin rope. “We’ll truss him up like a pig,” she said.

  Reba nodded, and they got to work. But neither of them had experience tying someone up. “More is better, I suppose,” Sella said. They tied his elbows together, using several knots. When they moved to his hands, Reba spoke.

  “Sella, I knew Misty. I used to see her all the time when Tavi and I were friends.”

  Sella didn’t lift her head. “I know. That’s why you came on this trip.”

  “I’ve never seen—” Reba’s voice caught, and she took two deep, shaky breaths before she continued. “I’ve never seen anything like that. When I received my gray awakening, it was so . . .” She stopped, shaking her head.

  “Easy? Clean? Unexciting?” Reba didn’t respond, and Sella continued, “Listen, to get your gray awakening, you smothered an old man who was too sick to be aware of anything. What happened today was real death. There will be more of it.”