by Laury Falter
“But I caused you pain,” I argued.
“You didn’t,” she said firmly, in the way she had on earth. “They did.”
It didn’t feel that way.
“None of us regret it, Magdalene. Your sister, your brother, your father.”
Breathless now, I cried out, “Oh no, no…” None of them had survived…
I lowered my head and covered my face with my hands.
“Don’t waste time agonizing over us,” she counseled. “They are just as content as I am.” She paused. “Magdalene, look at me.” It was a struggle, but I did. “You are still a good girl, but now you are a different kind of good. You have a gift. Use it and be who you are meant to be. Don’t waste another moment of regret on us. Do you understand?”
Slowly, fighting the repressive feelings that had pinched my neck taut, I asked, “Did the Kohlers mention where they might go af-after?”
She gave me a stern look, the kind I saw so often on earth. “You won’t avenge me.”
It was a command, one that she wanted enforced.
I couldn’t seem to release the single word answer.
“Magdalene?” she pressed.
“No,” I said, irritated at what I was agreeing to. “I won’t avenge you.”
“They’ve gone west to the insurrections. One of them shouted it after…when they were finished.”
I nodded slowly. “Thank you.”
With a great amount of willpower, I extended my appendages wide. And she smiled. A single pump carried me upward, but I was stopped by her voice.
“Magdalene,” she called out and waited for me to turn around. “As a messenger, you have a strength that will protect you from them. Find it.”
That simple suggestion was what did it. It came to me in a flash, that understanding Eran had been seeking. He wanted to know what caused the pain between me and the Kohlers. My mind raced back to every time I’d felt it, ending at the climactic moment when they threatened my life.
And I understood then the mother I knew on earth had given me one last bit of wisdom. She was correct. I did have a particular strength that would keep me safe. Those feelings were my warning of approaching danger.
“When you awake, where will you be?” she asked.
“Home.”
She seemed pleased to know it. “When you do, look under my chair near the hearth.”
“I will. For what?”
“Something I’ve been making for you. Something that will keep you safe…because I will no longer be able to do it myself.” She lifted her head as she added, “It’s my finest work yet.”
I spent the remainder of the night visiting the rest of my family. They were just as she had mentioned, contentedly enjoying their return to the afterlife. The memory of what they had gone through was just that, a faded recollection. When I was yanked back to earth and found the sunlight slipping through the window, I felt thankful. That feeling was swept away the moment I saw the blood stains on the floor.
Picking myself up, I walked to the chair and peered underneath. There was only a sewing basket and a black bundle wrapped on top of it. I withdrew it and held it out. It unrolled and I found what the woman who had been my mother had done. She had made me a suit, a warrior’s tunic made of thick black fabric and loops to hold weapons.
My mouth fell open.
She knew that I was the messenger. She had known all along. Of course… Symon. He must have discovered it and told the only other person in our family who could keep a secret. I also knew with an unsettling doubt, as I held up the tunic, that she had heard about the Kohlers and their attack on me.
I took a sweeping gaze of the upturned place I had called home. I paid special attention to the details of my innocent life here. I had been sheltered, hearing only of the tragedies in life through the guests I delivered messages to and from. The brief clash with the Kohler triplets was the closest I’d come to danger. All that had changed now. The damage and remnants of the fight caught my eye and a rush of determination shook me.
As I slipped on the black tunic that feeling only grew more powerful. Soon I found myself marching through the home I was now preparing to leave. Once out the door, I didn’t glance back. I couldn’t allow it.
That determination carried me down the rutted gravel road and over the first hill. I wasn’t even shaken when a voice came up behind me.
“Are you all right?” Eran asked.
“Yes,” I said, although I wasn’t.
He appeared at my side looking unconvinced. Thankfully, he didn’t press the issue. “And where would you be going now, Messenger?”
“West.”
Undisturbed by it, he asked offhandedly, “And why in that direction?”
“Because it’s where the insurrections are taking place.” And where the Kohlers can be found. While I had every intention of abiding my mother’s request not to avenge her, I did need to determine firmly whether the Kohlers were involved in the messengers’ deaths.
“The insurrections, hmm?” Eran mused.
“Yes.”
“Doesn’t seem to be the safest place you could go,” he proposed.
I agreed with him, but that wasn’t going to deter me. “You should stay here,” I suggested a little too warmly to be genuine.
He chuckled under his breath. “Like you, I go where I am needed the most.”
I walked a few more paces before clarifying, “And where is that?”
His voice was thick with resolve as he answered. “Right beside you, Friedricha. I’m staying right beside you.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN: PURSUIT
ERAN’S PRESENCE WAS AN EFFICIENT DISTRACTION from my thoughts, which kept sliding from one memory to the next. Images of my family’s blood on the floor were punctuated by my brief reunions with them in the afterlife, but it was Eran’s movements that kept bringing me back to the present.
As we walked, Eran made regular glances in my direction, giving me the impression he was picking up on my internal commotion.
Eventually, he asked, “Is there anything you want to tell me, Friedricha?”
I gritted my teeth before admitting it. “You-You were right.”
His head jerked back in shock. Apparently, he didn’t believe he’d ever hear those words from me.
“The Kohler triplets still pose a danger,” I said.
“Is that why we are here now?”
“Yes, it is.”
He nodded and released a heartbreaking sigh. “What did they do to them?”
“They,” I began, but my voice broke and I had to begin again. “They slit their throats.”
Again, he nodded, solemnly.
“How…did you know they had hurt my family?”
I thought his own family might have overheard the turmoil at my home and told him or that he might have seen the bodies, but I was wrong. His reasoning actually surprised me.
“Because in the short time I’ve spent with you I’ve formed an opinion of you, including the belief that you wouldn’t leave people in peril unless they were no longer in peril.”
“What gives you that idea?”
“Friedricha, you deliver messages to and from the deceased. You’re consistently helping those in peril.”
“Yes, so?”
“You do it at risk to yourself,” he added flatly.
“I see.” He considered me to already be behaving in that manner. I wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Under different circumstances though, I would have been flattered. Right now, it all felt surreal, like I was walking through a dream.
“On a lighter note,” he said, thankfully interrupting my internal dialogue, “did you visit them in the afterlife?”
“Yes.”
“And are they doing well?”
“Yes.”
“Good, than you can stop blaming yourself for their deaths.”
“I wasn’t-,” I countered.
“Yes,” he grumbled, “you were.”
I hesitated but finally asked, �
��How do you know?”
“I told you,” he said pointedly, “I’ve been assessing you.”
We continued walking with neither of us choosing to elaborate on that topic. I was certainly finished talking about myself and turned the focus on someone else, three others in fact.
“You’re not at all concerned about the Kohlers, are you?”
“Oh yes, I am,” he replied bluntly.
“You’re not showing it.”
“What good would that do?” he asked genuinely curious.
A stifled, amazed laugh slipped from me.”You don’t put much stock in letting go of your emotions, do you?”
“I’ve never seen the point of emotions. They act contrary to the purpose of your actions.”
“Meaning what?”
“They make a person act sloppy.”
“Or they can be powerful motivators…”
He chuckled in disagreement. I was about to make my point when his arm swung up and blocked me from taking another step.
We had just crested a hill revealing a walled city on the other side. A steady stream of people shuffled in and out of the main gate and instinctively I searched them for bright white hair. While I didn’t see any, I knew what Eran was thinking.
“You’re worried the Kohlers might be here,” I deduced.
“They might be,” he said, spinning to face me. “And therefore you are going to need to stay hidden.”
His hands swiftly took the edge of my cloak’s hood and drew it over my head, but he remained there, with his fingers pinched around the seam. His translucent blue-green eyes drifted over my face from my nose to my cheeks to my lips, where they lingered.
A fire began in my stomach, spreading heat through my body, as he evaluated me and when his gaze swept up to meet mine, I was sure he could see what he was doing to me.
The briefest second passed before he suddenly stepped backwards, his fingers slipping from their grip and sinking to his sides. From a few feet away, he studied me again.
I had to swallow back the lump in my throat before assuming out loud, “You’re thinking that the disguise won’t work…”
“No,” he said, “I’m wondering how I could ever have mistaken you for a boy.”
A boy? I thought. Then my mind rushed back to the first time we met, after we had fought on the dark roadside and finally exchanged words with each other. I’d had my hood pulled up then, too.
Eran laughed to himself deep in thought.
There was a thickness in his voice that intensified the heat in me. To subdue it, I started down the hill.
We didn’t speak the remainder of our walk toward the city or through the throng of people. Eran kept a diligent eye on those who moved around us and walked with a purpose telling me that he was ready for anyone to come through the crowd who might pose a threat. Only when we were a safe distance from the city did he relax.
This grew to be our habit as we came across the cities. I would hide beneath my hood and he would act as sentry. It worked well until the end of the day when another problem arose. Eran actually realized it before I did.
“Your feet are beginning to hurt,” he commented. “For the past hour you’ve been twitching them.”
I had, in order to reposition my feet inside my small boots. Blisters were forming. I could feel the sharp pain as they scraped along the surface of my boot’s heel.
“Yes,” I grumbled, having no solution other than one that simply wouldn’t work.
My appendages were tucked inside my back and would be an excellent means of travel. Unfortunately, exposing them would mean ending Eran’s reborn innocence. Showing him my wings would definitely lead him to realize that winged beings do, in fact, exist.
“It’s almost dark,” he said, assessing the sky. “Let’s rest a little while we decide where to sleep.”
That sounded like such a good idea I veered directly off the road and into the trees lining the side of it. After finding a large enough trunk to rest against, I sat down, immediately noticing the relief in my feet.
Eran stopped in front of me. “I’ll stand as guard while you renew your strength.” I opened my mouth but he stopped me. “I know, I know…you don’t need it. I’m doing it anyways. Sleep.”
Despite my reluctance to listen to any command by Eran, I felt my eyes closing and the next moment I was in the Hall of Records. I spent the night enjoying my refreshed state of being in the afterlife and using that energy to inform Hermina of all that had happened – which she appreciated after I fled the Hall of Records the night before in alarm – before practicing against Jerod, who was surprisingly feeble with the sword. When I was snapped back to my body on the other side, I expected to find an annoyed Eran with his lips puckered into a frown at having to wait the night before moving on. Instead, what immediately registered with me was that my body was no longer on the cold, hard ground but in a bed of hay. The sweet, welcoming aroma of it filled my nose just as I heard Eran speak.
“Good morning.” His enticing accent was thicker earlier in the day, I noticed.
My eyes sprang open and I found him observing me with a subtle grin. His arms were folded across his chest and his legs were casually astride. He reminded me of the first time I’d seen him, arrogant and pleased with himself.
“You’re a good sleeper,” he remarked.
“Yes, I’ve been told.”
Taking in our surroundings, I realized we were no longer in the open but inside a barn.
“Where are we?” I asked.
That familiar smirk rose up. “We’re there.”
“Where?” I asked rolling to my feet.
“Where the insurrections are being reported to take place.”
I tipped my head at him as I debated on whether he was teasing me.
“See for yourself,” he suggested, gesturing toward the barn door.
I strode to it, opened it, and found a house a few yards away. Beyond it was a small city of thatched buildings.
I swung back around to face him, thoroughly confused now. “But…But last night we were another days walk from it.”
“While you slept, I carried you,” he explained.
“Carried me? An entire day’s walk?”
“We made good time,” he replied with a shrug.
He was so nonchalant that my mouth fell open.
On seeing it, he muttered, “Oh, right, you must be hungry.”
Offended by the insinuation, I rolled my eyes. “I wasn’t suggesting that I…”
He withdrew a pastry and held it out to me, insisting on me taking it.
When I didn’t, he explained, “I’ve made some arrangements while you slept.”
“Arrangements?” I asked, fighting back a dreamlike feeling.
He walked the few steps to me, took my hand and planted the pastry in the palm of it. When he touched me it sent a jolt through my skin. He blinked, seemed to feel the same, and denied it. “Eat, you have work to do.”
“Work?”
“I’ve found people in need of your service and in exchange they will give us shelter and food.”
I blinked several times. “Who?”
He pointed beyond the door to the farmhouse. “The Volkmar family. I’ve explained that I am your escort and that you’ve come to offer your service. They’ve just lost a child, this past summer, and are eager to talk with you.”
Stunned, I looked up at Eran.
“They’re waiting to meet you. Eat,” he urged.
Realizing just how resourceful Eran could be, I took a bite, swallowed, and suggested, “Why wait?”
When I pushed open the barn door and made my way across the field to the house, Eran fell into step beside me. I marched the entire way there without knowing we were being watched. Eran did, chuckling to himself well before we reached the door. It was opened before I could take the handle.
“Messenger,” said the large woman whose bulbous nose was a natural rosy red. She stood just inside and behind her was a group of peo
ple that had collected. I knew by their features they weren’t from the same family and, by that, I knew that news of our arrival had spread.
“Your reputation isn’t unknown to us here,” said the woman, grabbing my arm and pulling me in. “And we are eager to get started with our exchanges.”
“Exchanges?” I said, surveying the room.
“With the deceased,” she said.
“Yes,” I replied in a daze at the boisterous welcome as I was briskly led to a vacant chair. “Let’s begin the exchanges.”
From there, I spent the day taking messages for the people of the city who had enough conviction and faith in my abilities to meet me. The Volkmars waited to be last and sat down just as dusk was settling over the rolling grasslands. Their loss was a particularly delicate one, being the first and only child they had been able to deliver and who was just eight when he fell ill. She wept as she told him that she was making his favorite bread in the morning, and cried harder when she told him goodnight. Mr. Volkmar, a towering man who seemed interested in shortening himself by hunching, sat quietly beside her, awkwardly patting her hand.
Although we were invited to stay for dinner, the tears being shed felt personal and Eran declined for us. We took the deer meat and boiled vegetables back to the barn where we ate overlooking the setting sun.
As streaks of peach and orange cast a glow across the grass blades, giving the illusion the horizon was set on fire, Eran set his bowl aside. “You know I’m going to miss this view.”
You’re leaving?” I asked, wondering why there was a hint of disappointment in my tone.
Eran noticed and smirked at me, blatantly entertained by it.
“I only meant that we just got here…”
“Mmhmm,” he muttered, skeptical of my response, his smirk deepening and his skeptical eyes lighting up.
“And you worked at securing a place for us…”
“Ahhh…” he mumbled, still unconvinced.
“Oh,” I groaned in irritation.
He managed to wipe his face of the smirk before replying, “I only meant that we should move on quickly.”
“Because you think the Kohlers will find us,” I surmised.
