It ain’t long ‘til we come out into a clearing on the other side. There’s a covered wagon waiting for us and two nags attached to it, snorting nervously at our sudden appearance. Waiting by the wagon are three others: a girl ‘bout my age and two young men, one not much bigger than Finn. They, unlike the others that had just helped us, wear no hoods. It’s like they ain’t trying to hide their faces at all.
“Go now,” the woman says to them. “And make sure you are seen as you ride out of town. We want them to believe the fugitives have clearly left Littlepass. Make haste for the safe house. Ride swift and safe, my friends.”
They nod and scurry away. The rest of the hoods blend into the shadows of the night now that they have secured the last of their people and disappear. The woman ushers us into the wagon just as a loud shouting comes from below us. The Army. They must have found their men and seen that we were gone. The woman leaps in behind us and shouts, “Go!” at the driver, and the wagon takes off so violently I fall over from the sudden jolt.
The wagon ride is fierce. We must hit every rut and hole possible. Feels like my bones are going to shatter they’re jarred so much. But no one dares to utter a sound or complaint. We travel in complete silence, our eyes wide, fearing at any moment to hear the shouts of the Army telling us to halt. But it don’t happen; the ride is uneventful, and we reach our destination, whatever it may be, without incident. To my relief, the wagon finally grinds to a halt, and we are herded out.
Wherever we are, we’re no longer outside. Stone walls surround us. The circular room we stand in is full of hay and mud, and from the smell, I would say more than a few animals had called this place home. Are we in a barn? Where the hell has she brought us? We ain’t given a chance to ask a single question before the woman moves us again.
“This way,” she says, and we follow her through a little door cut into the rock wall of the room.
As dirty and foul-smelling as the stone room was, the room we now find ourselves in is the complete opposite. Walls and floors so blindingly white it hurts my eyes just to look at them. I blink for a bit, trying to let my eyes adjust. It’s so bright in here it’s almost like daylight, yet it’s the middle of the night. My confused brain is telling me the light is coming from the torches on the walls, but there ain’t no fire from what I can see. Torches without flame, what the hell? I look at Finn and Jax in amazement, but they’re also standing and staring with the same gaping, fish mouth at this curious oddity. I want to ask a hundred questions, but like the woman knows what is about to spew outta my mouth, she pulls her hood off and just glares at me, startling me into silence.
“Come,” she says abruptly and starts walking down the white hall. Dumbfounded as we are, we follow meekly. Every step we take on the shiny, smooth stone floor echoes back at us from the bare white walls. We don’t talk; it’s like the room demands silence and to break it would be committing a sacrilege. She leads us to two massive black doors, the only bit of color in this otherwise white hall. She knocks once, then turns the handles, and pushes them open.
The room we step into is completely different yet again. If the other room had been cold and barren, this one is warm and inviting. A fire burns in a huge stone hearth at the center of the room, and chairs flank it on both sides, sitting on a nice, thick rug. The walls of the room are made up of shelves, filled to overflowing with colorful objects of varying sizes. Big and small, the items occupy every space, and it takes a moment for my brain to register what they are. Books. So many of ‘em. I’ve only ever seen a few in my lifetime, shown to us as a rare find by some trader who had been passing through. Only ever held one, which was the ratty, torn one Grada used to have when I was real young. The one he had taught me to read and write with, but that one had rotted away long ago. There’s so many of ‘em here and in such good shape. I never could have imagined so many existed. So entranced am I with my surroundings that I don’t even notice the woman standing in front of the fire ‘til she speaks, making us all jump.
“Welcome.”
She is tall; I notice that right away. Her hair is black, black as mine and hangs long and straight down her back. She is dressed in a long, gray robe, and her hands are tucked away in the voluminous sleeves, but she is smiling. The brillant, welcoming smile is a stark contrast against her dusky skin, but it's a smile that says she is very glad to see us and it eases the knot in my gut. She walks towards us, right up to me, and the hands that come out to cradle my face are covered in puckered, raised scars. At the contact, I can feel a tingling shoot straight through me, and I startle.
“Tara, you have grown up. It is so good to see you again, child.”
Again? I ain’t ever seen this woman before in my life. Why would she say that? I grab her hands and pull them away, finally finding my voice.
“Where are we? Who are you? And why did your people save us? What do you want from us?” I say.
She chuckles then, a soft, tinkling sound, and squeezes my hands in hers. “So curious and so full of bravado. Just like your mother. I shouldn’t have expected any different. This is Sanctuary. And I am Lily.”
8
Sanctuary
I awake from my sleep disoriented and confused, and for a brief moment, I don’t know where I am. Then the previous evening’s events come slowly back to me and I remember. Lily had found us. Rescued us. And we were now in a place called Sanctuary. That’s still all I know. As full of questions as we had been last evening, she had taken one look at us all and refused to answer anything coming out of our mouths.
“Look at you.” She had clucked her tongue worriedly. “Tired, exhausted, and probably scared witless I’m sure. You need to rest … all of you. Zoe, take them to their rooms.”
Our rooms? She had rooms prepared for us? Like she knew we were coming? I had ignored the stern woman trying to usher us back out into the white hall and tried to question Lily again. There was so much I needed to know.
How had she found us? How did she know Grada? Why was I told to find her? But she had laid a finger to my lips and smiled that kind, but firm, smile at me again.
“Shush, child. There will be time to ask all your questions in the morning, after you are all well-rested. You have been through an enormously terrifying ordeal … things that would have broken even the strongest of soldiers. You need to sleep. The boy needs to sleep.”
I had looked at Finn then, and I knew she was right. His eyes had been huge in his pale, drawn face, and he had looked befuddled, shocked, like someone had punched him hard in the head. Did we all look like that? I wondered.
She must have seen the stubbornness on my face as well though, ‘cause she added, “Tara, all your questions I will answer in the morning. I promise, child.”
I must have been more tired than I realized ‘cause without so much as a peep of protest, I’d let the strange woman lead us back through the white hall to a bunch of doors I hadn’t noticed the first time ‘round. She’d opened three doors, one for each of us, and I had nodded at Finn that it was okay before I headed into mine. I didn’t take much stock of the room at the time, just the fact that it held a bed and that I had collapsed onto it without even bothering to undress or even take off my boots. I’d immediately fallen into an exhausted sleep.
This morning; however, I take more notice. The room is simple enough. It contains just a bed, a chest, and a small, wooden table and chair sitting on the same smooth, stone floor as found in the white hall. The late morning sunlight filtering through the high window above the bed falls onto a neatly folded pile of clean clothes sitting on the chair and a basin of water on the table. Those were not here last night; I’m sure of that. Are these things meant for me?
I unfold them. There’s a pair of dark cloth trousers and a white tunic, both of them looking to be my fit. Deciding it must be, I take off the dirty things I’m wearing, give myself a quick wash from the basin, and dress myself in the clean things. It feels real good to have the clean cloth against my skin, and I cain’t hel
p but smile at how it makes me feel so normal just to be clean. Or maybe this happiness has more to do with the fact that the sun is reflecting off of my born day gift, and that the person who had given it to me is alive and here in Littlepass, in arm’s reach.
I will get you out of there, Ben, I think. I promise you that.
Voices filter through from the hall, and I open my door to find Finn and Jax standing there. They’re dressed in the same kind of clothing as I am, though from the dirt still on Finn’s face, I don’t think he bothered with the basin of water. Jax, however, looks clean, but the huge bruise on his cheek and the cut on his lip tells the tale of Tater’s betrayal. I nod at his cheek, trying not to let my anger take root.
“Does it hurt bad?” I ask.
“Only when I smile,” he says, making me laugh.
“Well, you should be fine then since smilin’ ain’t one of your better habits,” I say, and he surprises me with his own deep laughter.
From out of nowhere seems like, the woman from the night before appears in the hall and I jump in startled surprise. Zoe, I think Lily had called her. How the hell does someone not make any noise when they walk?
“Good morning. I trust you all slept well?” I don’t think she was truly concerned about that though ‘cause she don’t give us a chance to answer before she speaks again. “If you would follow me, Lily is waiting for you all at the breakfast table.”
Breakfast? Now, we’re talking. My stomach rumbles at the thought of food, and all three of us eagerly follow the woman. She leads us down the hall, through the room full of books, down a flight of steps, and into yet another hall. I look around all the while, overwhelmed at the vastness of each room we pass through. What the hell kind of place is this Sanctuary, and how big is it really? This second hall is much smaller than the first though, and we pass under an archway into a room containing a long, wooden table.
The table is huge. Must be at least ten chairs sitting on either side of it. Lily occupies the one at the end, and she rises as we enter, gesturing for us to join her. I still got the same barrel of questions from the night before bouncing around in my head, but the sight of the food on the table takes priority right now.
“Please,” she says. “Sit. Eat.”
She ain’t gotta tell us twice. We promptly fill the chairs on either side of her, and I make a grab for the fresh bread I could smell as soon as we entered the room. It’s still warm. And is that—oh, gods, it is. Butter. I ain’t seen butter since our goat died about four years back. Wasn’t all bad; the goat meat had kept us fed real good for quite a while, but I sure did miss that butter. Grabbing the closest knife I can find, I cut off a chunk of the white stuff and start smothering my bread with it. My mouth is watering something fierce as I watch it melt on my bread and ooze down over my fingers. I take a huge bite and close my eyes in pure pleasure.
The only noise for the next little while is our lips smacking and our sighs of satisfaction. Zoe pops up at my elbow at one point, replenishing the bread, and I nearly jump from my chair in fright. I almost yell at her “Stop doin’ that,” but I didn’t wanna be ill mannered. Especially to Lily who surely had every right to be horrified at our lack of table manners, but she don’t say nuthin’ as we stuff our gullets. After about my fifth or sixth slice of butter-soaked bread (I’d lost count), I look up to find her watching me, a sadness etched in her soft, brown eyes. She must see my questioning look ‘cause she just shakes her head at me.
“I’m sorry, it’s just you look so much like her, Rease, your mother,” she says, and at the mention of my ma, my appetite dies just like that. The bread that I’d been enjoying so much earlier now tastes like dust in my mouth. I lay it down and am about to wipe my greasy lips on my sleeve, but Lily hands me a folded white cloth from the table with a little smile.
My ma’s name was Rease. I never knew that. I mull this over for a bit, trying it out in my head.
“You knew her well?” I say finally.
“Very much so. She was a great friend and a powerful New Blood.”
At hearing those words, my heart skips a beat. My ma was a New Blood, too? Did Lily know about me? I raise my eyes to her, and as if she can read what I’m thinking, she nods at me.
“Yes, I’m very aware that you follow in her footsteps, Tara. I was hoping you would. Praying really. That was the reason I took you away to the other side of the mountains, so he wouldn’t get his hands on you. So you wouldn’t end up with the same fate as your mother.”
So this is it. What I want to know—what I need to know—but now that I’m finally about to get some answers, I don’t know if I’m truly ready to hear them.
“You were the one who left me in the sand lands?” I say. “So my ma didn’t abandon me?”
“No,” she whispers gently, and that simple word causes me to grip the edge of the table. “Leaving you was not her choice.”
Hearing what Lily just said, it’s like some huge weight lifts from my chest … like I can suddenly breathe again.
“What happened to my ma then?” I’m pretty sure I already know, but when the answer passes from Lily’s lips, I’m a little surprised at the sharp pain in my chest that accompanies it.
“She died at his hands. Just like every other New Blood that has ever had the misfortune to cross paths with him,” she says, and I drop my eyes to hide the tears that suddenly well up.
I ain’t sure why I’m tearing up. It’s not like I didn’t know she was already dead. I reckon maybe there was this tiny little part of me that had been hoping I was wrong. I take a couple of breaths, get myself back under control, and when I speak again, my voice don’t waver.
“How did you know that I would be like her? That I would carry the same curse?” I say.
“Curse?” Lily looks at me in shock, like she cain’t believe what she’d just heard. “Is that what you think, child? That you are cursed? You are blessed! You have been touched, chosen by the gods to do their bidding here on this Earth.”
The unexpected anger comes over me like some rogue wave. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Why cain’t people talk plain enough when describin’ what a New Blood is? Is it because I am a mutie, a freak, and you don’t want to come right out and say it? Touched by the gods … fulfiller of prophecy … what a bunch of shite. I just want to know what I am and where I came from. Is that too much to ask?”
This is met by silence. Finn regards me with wide-eyed surprise, the slab of hog he had been devouring sitting precariously on his fork halfway to his mouth. Jax is quiet as well, but his blue eyes convey silent understanding. To my surprise, Lily is smiling at my outburst.
“So much like your mother.” She motions to Zoe, who has been hovering creepily at the end of the table. At Lily’s request, she picks up a cloth-covered tray and joins us at our end.
“I cannot tell you how New Bloods came to be because I do not know for certain. There may have once been a few souls who knew this answer, but I am afraid those people have long since passed. There are some who believe that New Bloods descended from the gods, brought about to heal our destroyed world. Others believe that they were created by man. The same men who brought about the Shift and now needed a stronger breed to be able to rebuild and repopulate the dead lands. I do not know which version is the truth. What I do know to be true; however, is that New Bloods’ gifts are very rare and vary in strength. I, for example, can heal others from life-threatening wounds if I get to care for them quick enough. But that is the extent of my ability, I’m afraid.”
Was Lily admitting to being a New Blood as well? But her hair, she ain’t got no white stripes. She notices what I’m looking at and nods.
“I am not of the light. That sort of Chi only occurs in the most powerful of our kind. I hear you have experienced it a few times.”
She heard? From who? Who had she been talking to? I look to Jax and Finn, but they are both shaking their heads at my unspoken question.
“I have experienced … somethin’ …
and I’ve done things I cain’t explain, but I got no control over any of it,” I say.
“You will. It takes time to know your Chi and learn to control it. It took your mother years to know hers. Let me show you something.”
She pulls the cloth off of the tray, and sitting there is what looks like a little bowl of silver-colored water and a wilted weed sitting in a pot full of dirt. Okay, is this supposed to mean something to me?
“Give me your hand.”
I do as she asks, and before I realize what she’s up to, she pricks the tip of my finger with her knife, causing the blood to flow.
“Ow,” I cry and try to pull away from her, but she holds on tight. What the hell is she doing?
“Trust me,” she says in her calm voice.
Trust her? The crazy bird just cut open my finger. But against my better judgment, I don’t pull away. She holds my bleeding finger over the water, and a few drops fall into the bowl. Gently, she wraps my finger in the folded piece of cloth. She picks up the bowl and swirls it around so that the red blood looks pinkish mixed with the odd-colored water. She then pours the water into the pot. I wait expectantly for what, I ain’t sure. Nuthin’ happens.
Shizen. I think to myself. She is just as bat shite crazy as the others we had met. I don’t say it out loud though ‘cause I don’t want her pricking me with the knife again.
“How did you know Grada?” I say to her, pulling my hand to my chest and thinking I should take her mind off of New Blood talk for a bit. “And why did you take me to him? Why didn’t you just keep me here with you?”
“Is that what you called him? Grada?” She smiles to herself. “He must have been pleased with that name. Your ‘grada’ was my friend, my ally. He was once one of the Army himself until they found him out of course. He was lucky enough to escape into the sand lands before he could be dealt with. And I took you to him because he was the only one at the time that I could trust with keeping you safe. After your mother died … the Prezedant looked high and low for you. He questioned everyone, tortured many, executed some. He wanted to find you very badly. I needed to get you as far away from him as possible.”
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