by Shari Cross
“Is it time already?” he says quietly, his voice a dry whisper. “Time . . . it is the one thing that will continue to evade us and confound us. I see there is a new face among us this evening. Tell me, my boy . . .” He’s staring into the fire, but I know he’s speaking to me. “Do you intend to remain among us?”
Intend? Do I have much of a choice? If my intention is to survive and not live my life alone or as a nomad then yes, I intend to stay. But, if my family comes for me, that will change things. Or should I leave? Should I travel to other villages and search for my family? Addalynne’s hand wraps around mine. I look at her, watching the tension settle in her features.
“Yes, I intend to stay.”
Sir Alsius nods his head. “Robert,” he moves on to Addalynne’s father, speaking slowly and deliberately. “Are you prepared to care for the boy?”
“Yes, Sir Alsius. The boy is no trouble.”
“We shall see.”
We shall see? What does he mean by that?
“Pay no attention to him,” Addalynne says, leaning close enough to speak without being heard by anyone other than me. “I told you how they fear anything not from Faygrene. He is the reason for that fear. He creates it.”
“Sir Alsius.” A man with wavy, shoulder-length, brown hair; dressed in a fine navy cloak rises from a chair behind Sir Alsius. I hadn’t taken notice of him before, but from the way he carries himself, I can only assume that he’s Lord Berrenger. Next to him is a beautiful woman with a waterfall of golden curls—Lady Berrenger.
“My Lord,” Sir Alsius says with a nod, though he doesn’t turn to look at Lord Berrenger.
“I have already addressed the matter of the boy with Robert. Let us now move along to the reason for this council.”
“As you wish, my Lord.” Sir Alsius closes his eyes, and Lord Berrenger returns to his seat. “Many of you know the story I’m about to tell. And though I tell it every spring, it does not change the level of importance it holds. We must constantly be reminded of the danger that looms in the shadows of the Faenomen Forest.” He opens his eyes, and again stares directly at me. “Besides, if we’re going to have a new face in our village, we must be certain he understands. After all, the safety of every one of us depends on it.” He pauses for a moment.
“Fifty years ago, our village had an encounter with one of the hellions that lives in the Faenomen Forest,” Sir Alsius continues emphatically. I have to suppress a laugh, because I can hear Addalynne whispering his words with him.
“What did the hellion look like, Sir Alsius?” Addalynne asks.
“Addalynne!” Genoveve scolds, but Addalynne ignores her.
“As I have told you before, child, we must not speak of it, for that may draw it near.”
“But, Sir, you’re speaking of it now.”
I force out a cough to hide my laugh.
“Addalynne, stop now,” Genoveve whispers.
Sir Alsius looks at Addalynne and then shifts his gaze to me. He shakes his head as he lets out a sigh. “I tell you this for your safety, and for the safety of others. It is not my place to describe the hellion to you, for a description of that sort only builds in the imagination, and imagination is a dangerous thing for children to have. It leads to curiosity, and curiosity is not allowed, not if we are to remain safe. All you need to know is that there is magic in this world, magic that you cannot even begin to imagine, magic that is dark and dangerous. But as long as we stay in Silveria, we will be safe. Neither the magic nor the hellions can reach us here, and we must keep it that way by staying away from their territory of Incarnadine. Other villages in Silveria have little need to worry, but our village of Faygrene borders the edge of safety. We cannot ignore Incarnadine’s existence, as other far away villages so easily can, but we can avoid it. And avoid it we must. You see, the legends surrounding the forest came long before me. The warnings have been whispered and passed down for hundreds of years, and people heeded them. This is the one thing that allowed them to live in peace. But then the day came that several people decided to challenge the warnings.”
Sir Alsius stares intently at Addalynne as he says, “They went to the river and disturbed the water by throwing stones and calling the hellion’s name. It didn’t take long for the hellion to hear its call and make its presence known. What happened after is too horrifying to tell, but those who dared call out to the hellion were never seen again. For when you search for the secrets of the Faenomen Forest, the secrets of the Faenomen Forest search for you, and it won’t be long before they find you. Magic is on their side, dark magic, and once it finds you, there’s no running from it. So if temptation settles within you, remember these words, and stay away from the Glass River.”
The council then continues, with Lord Berrenger addressing the people about village matters. I hardly listen. My mind is like sap on a tree, stuck on Sir Alsius’s story and the things Addalynne and Gregory have shared with me. What is in the Faenomen Forest? Is there truth to the stories they speak of or are the tales merely lies to keep people bound to one kingdom—a way to keep betrayal at bay?
Someone accidentally bumps into my shoulder. The people around me are rising and gathering their belongings. The council must be over. It’s freezing out, and the moon is hidden behind the clouds, making the sky as black as a sea of crows. Robert picks up a torch that’s lying near the fire and lights it.
I stand and dust the dirt from my legs, but the feeling of someone watching me stops my movement. Glancing around myself, I finally find where the stare is coming from—Sir Alsius is waiting near Dahlia’s sewing shop, a lit torch in one hand, his other beckoning me. I look back for Addalynne, but she’s busy being scolded by Genoveve. Gregory is busy not looking at Mary, and Robert is speaking with Lord Berrenger.
I make my way toward Sir Alsius, curiosity and apprehension dueling within me. As I approach, he silently walks around the corner, and I follow him until he stops in the doorway of a boarded-up shop.
“Sir,” I say with a nod.
He assesses me for a moment, his eyes turning gold in the light of the flame he holds. “You are not from here.”
“No, sir. I’m not.” Everyone knows this, but the way he’s looking at me makes me feel as though I’m hiding something. “I don’t know where I’m from,” I continue, rambling now. “I assume I must be from a village upstream, though I don’t know how far.”
“No, Boy, you misunderstand me. I am not saying that you’re not from Faygrene, I am saying that you’re not from Silveria.”
Not from Silveria, then that would mean . . . “Incarnadine?” I say, though it comes out as more of a breath than a word.
“Shhh. I did not say that and neither will you. I simply said that you’re not from Silveria.” He reaches out and places his hand on my chest while closing his eyes. Should I walk away from him? Surely he’s mad. What other explanation could there be?
He opens his eyes again and the flame from the torch blows out. “No matter what happens, you cannot go back. Not yet. This is your home now. There’s a reason you have forgotten your past. Leave it forgotten. Do not try to remember. And if by chance you do, forget it again and never mention it.” He turns to walk away, but I can’t let him leave, not after that.
“Why are you saying this? What do you know?” I ask him as I follow him into the field.
He turns around and faces me, a look of fear and confusion on his weathered face. “Who are you? Why are you following me? I don’t have anything for you. Go away.”
“But, sir . . . you just spoke with me.”
“I’ve done no such thing. Now let an old man be.” With that, he walks away, and this time I let him.
Making my way back to the market, I try to shake off his words. I can’t be from Incarnadine. Surely, I would know if I were. Even though I can’t remember my past, I would feel it. I know I would. There is no truth to his words. They are just the mad ramblings of an old man. Like Addalynne said, he spreads the fear of Incarnadine by tell
ing stories he probably knows nothing of. He doesn’t trust me because I’m unknown to him. There’s nothing I need to forget except his words. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
Chapter 5
HER
“Do you think they’re looking for me?”
The boy’s words whisper through the darkness. I open my eyes and try to adjust to the black shadow that has spread through my chambers. He came in here to talk earlier, as he does every night, but I thought he had fallen asleep. I sit up and wrap my arms around my legs, pulling them against my chest and resting my chin on my knees.
“Who?”
“My family.”
“Oh.” I blink again and this time his frame comes into view—hunched shoulders, fingers twisting through the fur of the blankets. “I’m sure they are.” Could they be? And if they are, what would it mean for us? What if they come here?
“Sometimes I wonder if I even have a family.”
“Of course you have a family.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Well, you exist, which means you have a family.”
“Have and had are very different, Addalynne.” He lets out a frustrated breath, but I know the feeling isn’t because of me. “I may have had a family, and they’re dead or I may have a family and they don’t want me.”
“Or you may have a family that loves you and is looking for you as we speak.” For his sake I want this to be true, but I saw the blood he was covered in, and I know that nothing good waits for him in Incarnadine. He was meant to come here, somewhere safe.
“It doesn’t matter anyway. Even if they are alive and looking for me, they’ll never find me. Who knows how long I was floating in that river? I’ve been here for weeks and there’s been no sign of anyone looking for a missing boy.”
He was in the river about two minutes, but I can’t tell him that. He’ll want to go back to Incarnadine, and I can’t let him. “You still don’t remember anything?”
“No.”
Several minutes pass while I struggle with my guilt, and he struggles with his empty memories. I keep telling myself that I’m doing this for him, for his safety, but underneath I know the truth; my motives are mostly selfish.
“Do you want to know what I fear most?” His voice trembles.
I glance at his shadowed form and wait for him to continue. He doesn’t look at me when he does.
“I’m terrified that I’ll never remember . . . that I’ll never know who I truly am. How can I be anyone when I’ve lost fourteen, maybe fifteen years of my life? How can I build a life with no foundation? It’s like trying to plant a tree that has no roots.”
I wish Gregory were here. He would know what to say. He would find a way to calm him and make him laugh. Instead, he has me and my tangled tongue.
“You don’t need roots to grow,” I begin. “Every week, my mother brings home new flowers from the market. They don’t have roots, but they grow and thrive. All they need is a little . . . water. And you received plenty of that.”
His laughter cuts through the dark and brings a smile to my face. “I’m going to be a gentleman and refrain from pointing out the holes in that argument.”
“What holes? There are no holes in my argument. It makes perfect sense.”
“Of course it does,” he continues with a laugh. After a few seconds, silence settles over us once more, clinging to us like fresh fallen snow. “What are you afraid of?” he asks.
“Spiders.”
“Then I guess I shouldn’t tell you that I saw one go right under your bed a few minutes ago.”
“I can’t even see my own hand. There’s no way you saw a spider.”
“Fair point. But I don’t believe you’re really afraid of spiders.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because your favorite place to be is in the woods, preferably in your Grey Tree, and the few times I’ve climbed with you, I’ve seen plenty of spiders.”
“Fair point. I’m not afraid of anything”
“Everyone is afraid of something.” His words come out slower this time. He shared a true fear with me and I turned it into a joke.
“I’m afraid I’ll never leave Faygrene,” I begin, offering him my honesty. “That I’ll spend my entire life behind the village walls, never seeing what lies beyond them, never knowing the truth. All those things they speak of . . . the hellions, the magic . . . I want to see it all.”
He nods. “So you want to go to Incarnadine?”
Incarnadine. That word coming from his lips holds more meaning than he knows. Do I want to go to Incarnadine? The thought fills me with nervous excitement, but I don’t even want to put the thought of going to Incarnadine in his head. “No, I just want to know the truth, maybe see something from the Grey Tree.” Like I saw you. “Mostly, I want to leave Faygrene. I can’t bear the thought of being trapped here my entire life.”
“If you could go anywhere, where would it be?”
Incarnadine. “The ocean. I’ve seen pictures of it and can only imagine what it’s like in person. Besides, I would love to meet a mermaid.”
His laughter is louder this time, startling me from my imagination. “I could see that. You splashing around with a mermaid.” His laugher slows. “One day we’ll go. We’ll find a way. I promise.”
The thought brings a smile to my face as I lay back down.
After a few minutes, I feel his weight leave the bed. I open my eyes and watch him make his way to the door. “Goodnight, Addalynne,” he says and then leaves my room. A singe of disappointment burns through me, so I close my eyes and picture us far away, sailing on a ship across the sea.
I help prepare supper by stirring a large pot of potatoes, the aroma of garlic and onions watering my eyes and mouth. Mother is giving Elizabeth a much needed bath, Father is tending to the horses, and Gregory and the boy are at the market. This leaves me with my uncle Geoffrey, who arrived from Artania early this morning. He’s been gone for a little over a year, so he spent the day getting re-settled in his home here in Faygrene and talking with my parents about everything he missed while he was away.
I steal a glance in his direction and watch him pace nervously across the kitchen. His peppered, grey curls are sticking to the back of his neck, damp with sweat, and his blue eyes are darting back and forth toward the door.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. He stops pacing and turns to face me, a smile on his face.
“Nothing, my dear.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, Addalynne. I’m fine. It’s just strange to be back after so long.”
I don’t believe him, but I know it would be rude of me to continue questioning him so I reluctantly return my attention to the potatoes.
At that moment we both hear the front door open, followed by the loud laughter of the boys. I turn and once again look at my uncle. His eyebrows are drawn into a worried crease.
While we eat, Uncle Geoffrey’s apprehension is palpable. His hands fidget with his napkin and his bread roll as he asks the boy questions ranging from what he hopes to do in the future, to his favorite food and color.
I glance around the table and see that Mother and Father have pleased and understanding smiles on their faces. Gregory looks slightly confused. Elizabeth is poking her carrots with the wrong end of her fork and watching them jump across her plate with a laugh. I want so badly to ask my parents and uncle what’s going on, so I stuff food in my mouth. If it’s full, I won’t be able to say something that will get me in trouble.
After supper, the boy, Gregory, and I stay to clear the table while Mother, Father, Uncle Geoffrey, and Elizabeth go back into the study. We clean in silence, letting the sound of our families’ murmured voices drift toward us. My heart is pounding with anxiety, and I force myself to focus on piling the plates and bowls in order to keep from fidgeting. After several long minutes, the door to the kitchen swings open and Mother walks briskly in, her red hair tumbling loose from its braid.
; “My dear,” Mother begins, her words directed at the boy. “We would like to have a word with you.”
“Why do you want to see him?” I ask.
Mother faces me. “Because, as I said, we want to speak with him.”
I set down the plates. “Can I come too?”
“No.”
“But—”
“Addalynne,” Gregory says, cutting off my argument. I turn toward him, and he shakes his head. I look back at the boy, and his eyes find mine. The rag he was wiping the table with is clutched tightly in his fist, and there’s a trace of fear in his eyes. But after a few seconds he offers me a reassuring smile and, after taking a deep breath, follows my mother out of the kitchen.
“Why are you so jittery?” Gregory mumbles around the mint leaf that’s pressed between his teeth as he leans against the wall, his arms crossed in front of him.
“Because there’s something going on that they’re not telling us, and it’s obviously about the boy.”
Gregory shrugs. “You’re probably right. But getting worked up over it won’t help anything. Besides I’m sure it’s nothing bad.”
He can’t be sure about that. What if they somehow found out he’s from Incarnadine? Is that why my uncle was so apprehensive? I nervously glance around and then make my way out of the kitchen and into the front room.
“Where are you going?” Gregory whispers.
“To listen.” I open the front door and step out into the night. I try to pull the door shut behind me, but Gregory is there to stop it. I turn toward him expecting him to make me go back inside, but instead he steps out as well and shuts the door behind us.
We quietly make our way around the side of our home, ducking under branches and stepping around shrubs. The open window of the study is just ahead. I can see the golden glow pouring through the window, inviting us toward it. We slow as we approach and drop to a crouch. My fingers grab onto the sill and I lift my head up high enough to peek in.
