Mavis is around more often. She keeps me company while Charles goes to town. When he returns with no word of anyone looking for me, we all chat together or I help Charles with chores, preparing food and cleaning. Everyone works together here. I’m also able to do some mending. If I’m here long enough, perhaps I could even help make some new things. These people have so few clothes, and what they do have is worn thin, spotted with holes. It’s nice to have a way to help, and Mavis likes learning.
After I've helped her get started on an easy patch, I pull some thread from my pack and am threading it on my needle to fix a patch of my own when Charles and another male tarnished enter. The male I don't know plops in a chair next to Helen while Charles speaks with them. He then takes his time greeting Sherry and Mavis, but when he reaches me, he pulls a chair beside me. “How are you this evening?”
It suddenly seems warmer despite the consistent cool temperature in the caves. “I'm well. How are you? Did everything go smoothly?”
“It did. There's still no word anyone is looking for you.”
I sag against the back of my chair. At least there's some good news. “How do you find out things such as this?”
“We have connections with a warlock at the house you stopped at.”
Thank goodness he didn't answer when I knocked. “What would have happened if you hadn't been there when I stopped that night?”
“Someone is always there. They would have taken care of you. That's how I learned there's still no search for you. They've been keeping a close watch. Maybe things will be fine.”
Exactly what I hope but fear to say. There's no knowing if it will be. “Why is there always someone in town?”
“Helps us gather information and gives us a bigger network to work from.”
“But one of you can't actually own the house, correct?”
He leans in closer. “True. Only warlocks can do that. Even in towns that have tarnished areas, they have to pay a fee to whichever warlock owns the building. Thankfully there are a few who are sympathetic to us and the way we're treated. Without them, this cave would be a lot darker and have less people in it.”
Nothing about that makes sense. It goes against everything I know, but then I only know Father, Jack, warlocks from class, and now Nigel. What if not all warlocks are like them? “How can you trust them?”
“We work up to it slowly. Only give them a little information at a time. Even the ones we really trust, like the warlock who owns the house you stopped at. He helps us gather information and use his house. We can even claim him as owner if need be. But he doesn't know how many of us there actually are or where our hideout is.”
“Is that why we didn't go back to the house when we first met?” I remember putting my hand in his for the first time, trusting him.
“Partly. Also, I couldn't risk it with that law officer. He is going to remember us both. We're taught to always keep risk to the warlocks helping us to a minimum as much as we can.”
No sense jeopardizing the only help you have more than necessary I suppose. “It sounds as if you've really thought this through.”
“That's Mary for you,” Sherry says.
Her voice makes me jump. I almost forgot the others are in the room with us still. They look on with intent eyes. Too intent. I focus on the repairing the breeches like it's had the majority of my attention the entire time. The hole I've been patching is almost finished. The work is familiar, even if the circumstances leave me wondering if everything else familiar is being proven foreign.
Chapter Eight
Being underground all the time is difficult to become accustomed to. I think each day will be better than the last, but each day it feels as if the walls and ceiling are pressing in more and more, growing closer and closer. A week of it makes it seem as if there's barely room to move. It’s this thought that has me staring at the rock above me, wondering how much longer the tunnels will remain upright when Charles nudges my shoulder. “Are you doing all right?”
“Yes.”
“In truth?” He looks at me as if he really wants to know the answer.
“I am. Only, it’s stuffy here. I don’t know how you manage to live in caves all the time.”
“It’s not ideal, but the alternative is worse.”
That’s certain. I’d rather be down here than with Nigel, even if it does collapse on us. Yet living here day-to-day makes that hard to remember.
“Maybe we should sneak you out for a walk,” he says. “I think it’s been long enough to be safe. We’ll stay in the forest.”
“That sounds lovely.” More than lovely. I put my pack on.
“Over a week here and you still have to keep your pack close?”
I shrug. “It’s all I have.”
“True. Makes me think I should start carrying a pack with me.”
“At the very least, I’m ready to mend anything without running back to my room.”
Together we head for the entrance. Halfway there, we meet Mary rushing through the hall, her features pulled tight. “They’re searching for Katherine in town. It won’t be long before they’re here.”
Charles pulls me closer. “Are they using a spell?”
“Not yet, but we can’t be certain how long it will remain that way. There’s no indication yet whether or not they have found her ribbon. We have to go. Now.”
Mary runs back through the hall. Charles and I chase after.
As I run, gasping along, I think on how I should have never come and endangered all of them. I should have packed my ribbon. I should have stayed home. We wind our way through the hall, the pressure of it possibly collapsing outweighed by the warlocks’ imminent invasion.
We reach the door to the outside. Mary already has it open but hasn’t moved the bush yet. She’s peering out between the branches.
“They found us,” I say, dread winding through me.
“Have they?” Charles whispers at Mary.
“Shhh.” Mary backs up and softy closes the door. “The scouts are clearing the area. I don’t know how much longer we have left until they get here. We need to use another exit. Charles, you can escape with us or…”
Her eyes shift to me even if she's too kind to say it. Or he can get caught with me.
He doesn’t even hesitate. “I’ll see you when I can.”
My heart bursts, with both guilt and relief.
“Why do you always have to be so rash?” Despite Mary’s stern words and tone, she pulls him into a fierce hug. “Keep safe.”
“We will,” he says.
They aren’t just looking in the area. Because of my ribbon, they’re coming directly to this hideout. And I’ve led them here. Without any questions asked or thoughts for anyone but myself. They are coming to deliver me back to Nigel, and they will capture anyone caught with me. My heart feels as if it’s going to break through my ribs.
Mary, Charles, Mavis, Sherry, even Helen, and all the other tarnished. I’ve put them all in danger. I should have done more, or at least something different.
Mary is already gone, though I can hear a faint sound of feet moving and worried voices. Too many worried voices. I caused this, caused them to have to run from their home. I need to leave here, to get away from them as fast and as far as I can. Perhaps there’s still enough time to at least not give away their hideout. To save them from my fate.
“Over here,” Charles pulls me down a passage we hadn’t used before, leading me to a narrow hall.
I keep my focus on him as we hurry down the dark passage. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for everyone to be in danger because I didn’t bring everything I should have with me. I should never have stayed.”
“And I should have made sure they weren't coming for you before bringing you here.”
Seems I’m not alone in feeling guilty.
“We’re going to have to move fast,” he says. His breathing becomes rougher from our hurried journey. “They have magic to help. We only have ourselves.”
; “I’ve never outrun magic.”
“Getting caught is highly probable.”
“Help save the others then.” I pull him to a stop, thinking of the hug Mary gave him before running off. “Tell me where to go and you escape with the others.”
“I’m not leaving you to face them alone, not after I brought you here.” He continues hurrying away. When I don’t follow, he hastens back, grabs my hand, and takes me with him. “You don’t want to be owned by him. You shouldn’t have to be.”
I should fight Charles, find some reason to make him see my way. To see that others still want him in their lives, but the truth is, I’m weak. I haven’t a clue where to go, and it’s nice to have someone willing to help. A man not quick to scorn. A man who may be tarnished but is a better person than most so-called real people I’ve met. A man whose hand is still wrapped around mine.
Besides, he’s right. It’s what mother always thought, what she taught me, even if she didn’t know how we could do anything about it. She knew we have a right to be free, and she’s not the only one.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He gives my hand a squeeze and pulls me along faster.
A minute later, we stop. The wall is closed off ahead of us. We’ve been hurrying to reach a dead end? I don’t see how this is good for anyone except Nigel.
He points to the ceiling. There’s some sort of exit there. Thank the sun! That at least makes more sense than him leading us to a dead end. My nerves are so overwhelmed I start shaking.
“I’m going to open the hatch,” he says. “It’s going to bring us out behind a hill where we can’t be seen from the front entry. If there are warlocks here already, they may still be able to hear us so keep quiet.”
I bite my lip as if that will keep me quiet. I’d bite harder if it’d help.
He points to the left. “We’re going to make a break for the river over there. We keep a boat hidden under some bushes. When we reach it, sit wherever you can and hold on. The river is fast right now, but it’s been too dry this year so it's not as fast as it could be. We have to hope it’s fast enough. Can you do that?”
“Keep quiet, run for the river boat, stay on.” Simple enough.
“Ready?”
I nod, though it feels as if someone has sewn my insides together.
He pulls a rope ladder down from the wall, climbs up, and slowly lifts the hatch. As he peeks through the gap, I wish I could see what as well. Are they already out there? Did we not run fast enough? Not only do I hope they’re gone, but I want out of this ever-shrinking tunnel.
After a moment, he finishes climbing out, disappearing from view. Even though I know he wouldn’t have left without being sure no one was waiting in hiding to catch him, thoughts of warlocks hexing him still abound. Perhaps they’re taking him right now after casting a silencing spell. They’ll subdue him, then come for me. I’ll either be caught or stuck in these horrid tunnels forever. As much as I hate the tunnels, I take a step back.
A shadow crosses the sky and I get ready to run. Then I realize it’s Charles. Of course it is. He motions me to follow. I climb, the rope and my skirts twisting beneath my steps, slowing me down. I kick my skirts and focus on each rung instead of frantically trying to get away from this closed up place. If only women were allowed breeches like the men.
The ladder continues to wobble beneath me. Two more rungs, and I finally reach the top. Charles takes my hand and helps me from the hole before closing the hatch and concealing it with a bush.
The sun is warm, friendlier than I remember. The sky bright blue puffed with clouds. But there's not time to savor the joy coursing through me. We have to move. Now.
There’s a little of the mountain we have to climb down. Then we’re in the trees. He grabs on to my hand again and moves left to where the river should be. His gaze darts back to me often, checking on my progress. The river must not be far. The sound of its rushing power fills the forest, but I don’t see it yet. The sound means freedom and hope.
Yet its noise also makes it difficult to hear anything else. Anyone creeping up on us. At least that means it will be harder for them to hear us trying to escape as well. Though with their spells, does it matter if they can hear us?
Charles takes the time to place his feet carefully yet somehow managing to keep a quick pace. I attempt to do the same, but the shuffle of my steps can still be heard even above the noise of the river. As we make our way through the forest, I can’t help but look behind us, fearing a warlock will appear any moment, my noisy steps or attachment to my spelled ribbon drawing them in. Listening and watching for pursuit takes almost as much energy as trying to get away quietly.
So far no warlocks appear. Perhaps Mary was mistaken. Perhaps the scouts did see some warlocks in the area, but they were out for a walk, not searching for me. Perhaps there’s not someone coming to capture me. There’s been no spell, no men, no chase. All the commotion was for something, or someone, else.
Charles cocks his head to the side. His lips thin as he pulls us along faster. Did he hear something? Does he know they’re coming for us? No matter how much I want to know his thoughts I don’t dare speak, even with the river to cover it.
My legs grow weary of the rapid pace. I push on, but they feel week, almost numb. As I struggle to stay with him, my footsteps grow careless. Branches crack beneath my feet. Charles doesn’t shush me or even turn around. Instead his gait lengthens, pulling us along even faster. Exchanging stealth for speed.
This is bad. Very bad. I glance behind, but there are no warlocks in sight. The way Charles is silently urging me on, they must be close. Either that or something else is coming that’s just as bad.
When we leave the tree cover for a clearing, the river is within sight, though it’s not close enough for me to feel as if we’re going to be safe. Don’t know if my legs can take me all the way there, even though it’s not much farther.
There’s no boat in sight, though he said it was hidden. If I could see the end goal, perhaps this would be easier. We make our way out of the trees onto a sandy beach littered with big bushes. The river is wider than I expected and flowing by so fast I doubt I could cross it on my own. The white, peaking waves look as if they’d knock me over.
He releases my hand and heads straight for a group of bushes like he knows exactly where the boat is going to be. We’re almost to the river. We are going to make it. They aren’t going to get us. We're going to float away on the river, and I’ll never have to marry Nigel.
My foot hits a rock. I stumble and try to stop myself, but there’s nothing to grab on to. Charles turns, but it’s too late. I fall, fall, fall to the ground. My right hand smacks against the ground first, gashing in my wrist with a snap. At the pain, shock screams from me, bounding out into the world. Charles kneels beside me, putting an arm around me. Control returns after only a brief yet agonizing moment. I clamp my mouth shut, but the damage is already done. My ears still ring from my scream.
I look at my wrist through blurry tears. It’s already a little swollen.
“Sorry,” I mouth to Charles. He doesn’t respond, staring back into the forest from where we came, listening. Following his example, I strain to hear sign of pursuit. Nothing. No one heard my lapse of control. Some of the tension eases from me as he helps me from the ground.
“We’ll take care of your wrist in—” His eyes widen on something behind me.
I turn. A bright gold spell zips from the forest, shooting straight for me.
Chapter Nine
“Go!” Charles yells, pushing me toward the river.
I stumble but don’t fall again, managing to run as soon as I catch myself. My feet twist in the rocks and the ground rushes toward me again. Charles grabs my uninjured hand and pulls me up. He keeps a hold of me as we charge toward the riverside. But it’s too late. The gold spell slams into my back. A shock slices through my entire body.
After the initial jolt, there’s no other sensation. Something shou
ld be happening. The fact it’s not is more frightening than if the usual pain from hexes accompanied it.
“What’s it doing?” I ask, voice shaky. “Is it on me?”
“It’s there,” Charles says between breaths. “Think it's from your ribbon. It’s leaving a trail to find you.”
“Cripes.” I turn back and see a faint glow of orange light hovering in the air, leading straight to me.
“Just run.”
My legs no longer feel as if they can carry me. The spell darts faster than before. Between gasps of breath I say, “Go without me. They’ll catch me. Save yourself.”
He doesn’t say anything, but his grip around my arm tightens. I don’t have breath left to argue with him.
The river is a rush of sound. I’m no longer grateful for its ability to cover noise. How far away are they? How much farther will we be able to make it before they catch us? I won’t go back without a fight.
We reach the riverside, bushes everywhere. Charles picks up several of them and throws them. Boat? This is no boat. The thing looks more like it’s only useful for housing bugs, not a vessel to safely carry two people down a river. There is a hole in the side and the boards look worn, ready to break under my weight. Lovely.
The worst part is the current. It’s moving fast—fast enough that when this thing falls apart, I won’t survive. I doubt I could survive it anyway without knowing how to swim. That’s if we even get away before the warlocks unleash more hexes on us.
Charles unties the rowboat from a tree and pushes it halfway into the water.
“Get in and hold on,” he calls back.
Despite the strong urge to do otherwise, I promptly get in the boat and tightly grip the side with my good hand. The hole is bigger than I first expected, but at least it is high enough that nothing is coming in. Yet. This is their escape plan? Or at least their escape plan for people like me who are unlikely to survive.
Mine to Tarnish Page 5
