Still, the going was difficult as she made her way to the small road that led to the Orphanage. Out of the dense trees the way was much easier, but now she was exposed to the lightning that splayed across the sky. She reached the crest of a hill and paused for a moment to catch her breath. Though at times she was thankful that the Lady of the Vale Orphanage was so isolated and remote from the prying eyes of civilization, yet at this moment she cursed the long hilly road that led to safety. She drew in a deep breath before continuing but stopped when she heard the faint sounds of youthful laughter.
Sterling furrowed her brow. What were girls doing out here and so far from the Hall? She looked up again to gauge the storm’s fury as she headed toward the sound. There were girls of many different ages that stayed at the orphanage and most of them liked to sneak off and play in the surrounding woods. It was often Sterling’s job to round the girls up for dinner. She knew of the clearing where the wild flowers grew and thought that may be were the girls were playing.
She made her way through the brush and came out into the clearing. She stood there for a moment watching. Elise and Grace, two of the older orphans of the Hall were dancing about arm in arm and laughing as they made themselves dizzy. They were unaware of Sterling as they collapsed in a fit of laughter. Sitting nearly engulfed in the yellow field of daisies was yet another of the girls, Brigit, one of the younger orphans by at least four years. She was busying herself collecting a bouquet from the flowers surrounding her, her small, yet surprisingly nimble fingers weaving and interlocking the stems into a very pretty wreath. Though she was listed as being seven, she was much tinier than even the toddlers, due in part to the illnesses she had endured in her early years. Sterling started toward the girls, “What are you three doing so far away from home?”
Elise and Grace’s heads popped up from the knee-high flowers, smiles spread across their innocent faces. “Sterling!” They jumped up in unison and ran toward her. They nearly knocked her to the ground with their enthusiasm. “Brigit wanted to collect flowers, so we came with her.”
“These are for you Sterling.” Brigit stood and limped her way to Sterling with the wreath of mostly wilted flowers grasped tightly in her tiny little fist. She was such a sweet child, having been left at the orphanage by strangers who had found her swaddled along the road. They had wanted to keep her but were too poor to continue to look after Brigit. The deformity in her legs and her continuing poor health were too much for them to maintain. Despite her sickly constitution and the deformity of her leg, Brigit was energetic and carefree.
Sterling had been sixteen when Brigit arrived. She had fallen in love with the tiny child from the moment Mother Anwell brought her in. “Happy Birthday Sterling,” Brigit beamed at her, showing Sterling a mouthful of gleaming white teeth.
Sterling’s initial disgruntlement melted away the moment she took the flowers. “They’re beautiful,” she smiled down at her, “thank you Brigit.”
Thunder rumbled and shook the peaceful clearing. “There is a storm headed this way, we all need to get back before it gets here, quickly now,” Sterling half chided.
“It’s a race!” both Elise and Grace yelled as they ran off hand in hand toward the tree line leaving Sterling and Brigit behind. Sterling watched as they skipped together singing and laughing, on their way back to the Orphanage. Those two had been inseparable since they both arrived at the Lady of the Vale five years ago.
“Come on, let us get back before this storm hits.” She took Brigit’s hand and started off toward the forest. Brigit held on tight as Sterling hurried through the trees and as they stepped out of the woods the rain began to fall. Thick drops the size of grapes pelted them as they scrambled up the steep hill. It was the last one before the orphanage, which lay just on the other side in a small valley. Lightning streaked across the sky followed instantly by a rumble that rattled Sterling’s teeth. We’ll never make it at this pace, Sterling reflected, not with Brigit’s limp.
Brigit let out a giddy little squeal when Sterling lifted her up in her arms, shifting the bag of rabbits over her shoulder. Sterling chuckled despite herself as she raced down the hill, child in arm and making odd faces at Brigit as they both giggled at each other. The ground had already become slick with mud, and there were a few times that Sterling thought she’d end up slipping and sliding the rest of the way on her rump, but thankfully gained her feet and made her way down. The wind had picked up during the storm, sweeping fiercely over the hill and pushed Sterling from behind. The trees were swaying wildly, groaning under the sudden shift, sending loose green leaves spinning and dancing in the wind. Brigit screamed as lightning struck a tree, splintering it and sending smoking bits of bark across the hillside. Sterling stumbled and fell to her knees. Brigit slid out of her arms across the muddy path, almost landing on the bag of rabbits. Another bolt hit on the other side and the impact threw Sterling back.
“Sterling!” Brigit screamed as tears of fright rolled down her muddy cheeks. Her arms outstretched.
Sterling struggled to her feet, her body heavy after the impact with the hard ground. She scooped Brigit and the bag up in a running jog, trying to gain what traction the muddy earth had to offer and broke full out toward the safety of the orphanage. Mother Anwell and the others stood with awe and fear shining in their eyes as Sterling raced for both her and Brigit’s lives. The storm was directly over the orphanage.
“Hurry!” Hemi stood in the doorway waving her to quicken her pace. She forced her legs to dig in and made a final dash for shelter. She collided with Hemi’s solid body and turned to see a bright flash light the sky. A bolt of lightning hissed and cracked as it wound through the clouds and hit the ground where she and Brigit had last stumbled. A wave of shivers ran down her spine when she realized if she’d been a few seconds longer on the ground both she and Brigit would be dead.
“Are you hurt?” Hemi asked his voice gruff.
“No,” she heaved a sigh of relief as she pushed muddy hair out of her face. “Just covered in mud.”
“Sterling.” Brigit’s small hand tugged at her arm. “You dropped your flowers.” She pointed out at the flowers that lay scattered across the muddy ground.
Sterling stooped down and hugged Brigit. “Don’t mind, we’ll go tomorrow, and you can pick another bouquet twice as big.”
“All right,” Brigit nodded.
“You’re both filthy!” Mother Anwell stood towering over them. “Off with you now, clean yourselves. And let’s get those rabbits on the fire, it’s almost time for dinner.”
5
Happy Birthday
The aroma of roasted rabbit wafted from the open kitchen window. Sterling could hear Sister Treva laughing with one of the junior Sisters who helped her in the kitchen. Sister Treva had been preparing for Sterling’s birthday feast all week and had promised to fix Sterling’s favorite dishes.
Sterling pushed open the door into the kitchen and her stomach promptly growled its anticipation.
“Such manners,” Sister Treva scolded.
“What can I say?” Sterling laughed. “It reacts to the smell of good food,” she added as she stole a crust of bread from a bowl on the work table.
“Oy!” Treva swatted at her with a large wooden spoon. “No stealing food before dinner.”
Mother Anwell stood in the doorway a stern look aimed at Sterling, “Don’t ever scare me that way again.” Sterling smiled at the woman, happy that she ruled the orphanage with a firm, but kind hand. She’d heard those same words repeated numerous times over her life. It was always the same. She would do something stupid and Mother Anwell would scold her and tell her never to scare her again. To which Sterling would do something stupid and Mother Anwell would scold her, yet again. Sterling mused, she probably shaved at least three or four years off the poor woman’s life due to worry and anxiety alone.
Still, she was thankful to the old woman for giving her and Hemi a place to live. They had arrived at the Orphanage when Sterling was just six. H
emi had found out about the caretaker job from the owner of the Scarlet Bull. They had been here ever since. Sterling had no memories of what happened before coming to the orphanage, only the few pieces that Hemi told her of moving around from place to place finding work so he could feed her.
“Take these to the table,” Treva handed her a platter of roasted carrots and potatoes, “then call everyone to dinner.” Sterling carried the heavy platter and placed in the center of the table that was already covered in her favorite dishes. Her stomach growled again at the sight before her.
“It smells good,” Brigit said as she walked into the dining room.
“Yes, it does. Treva has outdone herself this time,” Sterling said as she walked through the house to the dinner bell that sat on a table in the foyer. From the very beginning it had been her job to call the girls to dinner. As a child, she’d barely been able to lift the large bell, but now the worn wooden handle fit comfortably in her hand. She lifted her arm and swung the heavy brass bell up and down announcing that dinner was served.
“Happy Birthday Sterling!” The chorus of cheers rang out across the dining table. Treva’s meal had been delicious as usual and Sterling was happily satisfied by the food. Brigit sat in her lap, her arms around her neck as she kissed Sterling on the cheek. “Happy Birthday,” she whispered into Sterling’s ear. The younger girls all gathered around Sterling as Hemi told embarrassing stories of when she was a child. It seemed that her birthday celebration had turned into a recounting of all the embarrassing things Sterling had done over her lifetime. But it was because she felt comfortable in this setting that Hemi would tell the stories he told. He knew how uneasy she was in large crowds and having people stare at her.
At first, as a child, when new girls came to the orphanage they would avoid Sterling and her silver eyes. It pained Sterling to no end to have it happen. To be the social pariah, especially in an orphanage of all places, was something a child should never experience. But over time, despite her differences, she had made some friends. It was a vicious cycle when the girls had befriended her, only to be adopted by a family and never seen again. Sterling had to start over again with new friends repeating the same thing every time. It got to a point, as she grew older, that Sterling would be mean to the new girls just so she wouldn’t have to go through the heartache of losing another friend.
Now, fifteen years later, here she sat with a gaggle of girls wishing her a happy birthday. She loved each one of them for the joy they brought, but it still broke her heart when one would leave with their new family.
“Sterling, promise you will help me pick a new bouquet tomorrow,” Brigit said as she pulled at a strand of Sterling’s dark hair.
“I promise.” Sterling returned Brigit’s kiss.
“Sterling.” She turned when Hemi’s gruff voice broke through the squeals and laughter of twelve girls gathered around her.
“Yes Hemi?” she replied softly.
“I need to talk to you for a moment.” His tone was off. She knew immediately that something was wrong. He turned and left the dining room expecting her to follow him.
Sterling lifted Brigit off her lap and gave up her spot to the girl. She said her goodnights to Mother Anwell and followed the hall that Hemi had taken to the Mother’s study. “Close the door,” Hemi said, with his back to her. She could see his reflection in the window. There was a sense of nervousness she’d never seen expressed in his face before. His hands were clasped behind his back. He was a giant of a man that had been her rock since as far back as she could remember. He was always steady, never faltering.
“What’s going on?” Sterling asked as she closed the door.
“Sit down.” Sterling could feel the blood drain from her face. Had he found out about her confrontation with the Leyenese? She knew if he discovered it she would be in big trouble. It was best to face up to it now and get it over with than let his ire grow.
“About that,” she started, “I know I shouldn’t have gone so far sou-”
“I’m not your Uncle.” His words cut into her explanation.
“What?” She laughed, thinking she had misunderstood him.
He repeated his words and she could tell by his tone that he was telling the truth. “I don’t understand. Of course you’re my uncle. Father and Mother died in a fire when I was a baby and you brought me here.”
He finally turned to face her, “Your father was a Kai’Varian warrior, and I was his slave.” Sterling’s ears began to ring as Hemi’s words sank in. Her father was Kai’Varian? How could that be? Hemi was a slave? None of this makes sense, she thought.
“Is this a joke?” The look he gave her told Sterling that he was not joking. There was pain in those stoic eyes. “You’re not joking, are you?”
“No,” was all he said. It was enough.
Sterling felt her knees give out and she slumped into one of the leather chairs that lined the wall of the study. “Your father, Khort Rin’Ovana, was a Kai’Varian warrior and a Veillen High Guard. I was given to him as a slave after my unit had been captured crossing into Kai’Varian territory.”
“I don’t understand.” Sterling stared at Hemi’s feet afraid to see the truth in his eyes, “Hemi, I don’t understand any of this.”
“On the day you were born, there was a fierce battle between the Veillen and the demon graekull, your father died protecting you and your mother. She-” He paused for a moment, “She died shortly after your birth.”
“But why bring me here?” Sterling stood. “Didn’t my father have any family to raise me?”
“Khort instructed me to hide you,” Hemi shook his head, “but not from whom or from what. He told me to take the necklace,” Hemi pointed at the necklace that hung around her neck, “so I did, I took it and you and I ran.”
Hemi was interrupted when Sister Treva came bursting through the door. “Oh, thank the heavens I found you.” She was out of breath and her face was devoid of color.
“What is it? What’s the matter?” Hemi asked, his stoic face now fading into worry.
“It’s bad. The Severon are here,” Treva warned, her face white with panic.
6
Caged
“They are looking for a girl with silver eyes.” Both Hemi and Treva looked to Sterling. “Mother Anwell is keeping them occupied, we must hide you.”
The Severon? Sterling’s heart raced as she followed Hemi toward the back of the house. Was it the same cruel man that had killed Motego and Franto on the Merchant Road? How could they have found her? Especially here, of all places?
She was certain he had not seen her eyes that day. Had someone given her up to the Severon? No one in Shee trusted the Orom’s army since they had purged the city of foreigners breaking up families in the process. She doubted they would willingly divulge her location.
“In here.” Hemi easily pushed the heavy dining table out of the way and threw back the carpet revealing a hidden door. He pulled up on the iron ring, opening the way to the root cellar. She’d been inside the cellar once before during a visit by one of the Orom’s envoys. She disliked the closed-in feeling she got in this room. It is like crawling into my own grave, she thought as she moved forward. But knowing that Hemi could get her out quickly once the Severon were gone made the decision less overwhelming.
“Hurry,” Sister Treva urged, “Mother Anwell cannot stall them much longer.”
Sterling slid into the dry root cellar and sat, pulling her knees close to her face. It was a long room that spanned the length of the house and the only other entrance was the cellar door that let out into the kitchen garden. She took one last look at Hemi and saw the fear and concern in his eyes. He winked one last time, then a smirk crossed his lips. Forced, Sterling thought, but oddly reassuring nonetheless. It was like he was telling her not to worry, that he would take care of everything just like he always had. Dozens of times before. Yet that tingling sensation of dread kept trying to crawl into her brain. He closed the door and replaced the carpet. Du
st rained down on her as he pushed the large dining table back into place. And that sense of being buried alive began to bleed through her resolve.
The root cellar was pitch-black except for a few places where the slats of the floor had been worn away. Dust motes floated in the meager light that forced its way through the tiny holes. Sterling could hear the footsteps of the approaching Severon. Their boot heels struck the wooden floor with a decisive staccato. The softer footsteps of Mother Anwell followed the men into the dining room.
“I am Commander Remus Engram of the Northern Arm,” the man said introducing himself. “There are rumors that you’ve been harboring a Devian. Rumors I tend to believe from a man who no longer has to worry about counting to ten.”
Engram? Sterling recognized his name as the man she’d seen on the Merchant Road. The one that had murdered Motego and Franto. The one who had almost caught her.
“But Commander Engram, there is no one here. We are just a simple orphanage,” Mother Anwell softly responded.
“And I am a simple soldier following the Orom’s edicts. If you say there is nothing here, then you should not have a problem with us searching for what you say is not here.”
There was a short pause, “Go right ahead Commander, we have nothing to hide.”
“Then you have nothing to be worried about. Search this building from top to bottom. Every room, every closet. Every chest. You there, search the farmhouse and the grounds.”
Several answers of, “Yes, Commander,” were followed with retreating footsteps.
“You there, have we met before?”
“I do not believe we have, Commander,” Hemi answered, his deep voice calm despite the chaos swirling around him.
There was a long pause before the Commander spoke again, “Mother Anwell, how many girls do you have living here with you?”
The Elemental Union: Book One Devian Page 4
