Rogue Beyond the Wall
Page 19
Then there was a blast of green. It lit up her lids and she fell to her knees and folded up, her scream rising in her ears. She was screaming for all those who didn’t or couldn’t. For her father. For Nicholas.
Oh gods! Nicholas!
And her scream turned to crying that filled every nook and cranny despite the fact her ears were covered. And that was when she finally removed her hands and curled up into a ball. She wanted nothing more than to not have to tell someone that her father was dead, as that meant eventually it would have to be explained to her brother who was not well at the moment.
“Brida?” came a hesitant voice.
She tensed, where her heart should have been stuttering somehow.
“Brida, are ye all right?”
She inhaled, lids slitting open to find the dark pond before her and the moonlight shimmering along its surface. The tears that should have been there were nonexistent, and her eyes didn’t feel the least bit strained.
“Did soehmet’in’ ‘appen to yer fat’er?”
Brida sniffled and pushed herself up awkwardly, taking in the fact she just ditched her father, and nodded. Then she faced Salbatzaile with eyes that she so desperately wanted to have show the pain she held, but the monk had his mouth covered and was looking to the side.
Sanctus and Ángelo stood waiting on the path.
“Are they on the way here?” Ángelo interjected hesitantly, one foot making the motion to step forward but pausing. He was nervous.
She shook her head and gulped. “As far as I know,” came her voice, and it sounded strange to her, “they don’t know where Nicholas is. They only caught father.”
“What do ye mean caught?”
She reached for her head and ran her fingers through her hair out of habit. Then she looked down guiltily, taking in the way the grass appeared so much darker in the night. It was as though an entire day had gone by. “He snuck out the window four days ago.”
Silence.
“He read Nicholas’ part of the letter and became convinced he needed him.”
“Didn’t you read the letter, Sanctus?” Ángelo scolded.
Brida turned up just enough to see the unpleasant monk staring down the kind one.
“Of course I did!” Sanctus shot back in a tone that startled even her, a glare that didn’t suit his face glowing in the night. “Nothing was…”
“It was his writing.” She returned to Salbatzaile, not wanting anyone to take the blame as this was all her fault. It was all because she had chosen her own fate, which drove her brother down the wrong path.
Everyone’s eyes landed on her.
“Nicholas has a way of writing. A way of speaking. I saw it. It wasn’t him.”
“Not’in’ we can do now,” Salbatzaile resumed. “What’s doehne is doehne.”
Brida covered her face and sobbed tearless once more. “It was awful!” she cried out.
Salbatzaile’s hand slipped over her shoulder, making her flinch.
“I couldn’t even stay to see the end!”
“Wait,” Sanctus stepped forward then, his feet rustling into the grass and drawing her up once more. “You didn’t see your father die?”
She shook her head as she brought her knees to her chest and hugged herself, Salbatzaile’s hand still on her shoulder. “There were so many of them, and on horseback. They were burning all wagons and shooting all gypsies in sight. I closed my eyes and screamed when…” She paused. Blinked. Then she gasped as she pictured that place in the forest.
Missing (Isaiah)
A massive thumping echoed within Isaiah’s skull. It got his temples, his forehead, his brain. Every inch of him ached fiercely, too. But he shoved himself up from the trampled mud and snow, nonetheless, and got onto his feet. There he swayed as he took in the scene.
It had been five bounty hunters from his count. Five burly looking hunters on horses that hadn’t stayed when they had all been thrown into the trees.
Isaiah stumbled on over to one that had smacked into a spruce just paces away, leaving a trail of blood on his journey back to the ground, and squatted as he reached for a vein in the man’s neck.
Dead.
He looked over at the next closest hunter and awkwardly shifted from his bent position the few paces required. There he did the same thing, though from the hunter’s mangled appearance it was clear his horse had fallen on him, panicked, and stomped him to death on the way up.
A look around showed the remaining men unmoving. One horse was still on top of his rider, most likely just as dead.
His gaze shot up into the bright morning sky from there. At some point the clouds had cleared to allow more light through the sparse canopy, and he let himself shed fresh new tears. “Forgive me. I didn’t intend to kill anyone.” Then he dropped completely onto his knees and bowed his head to the ground. “May you take what you need from me as compensation. I will gladly pay it.”
Shivers ran along his spine, as though a cold hand had reached within him and grabbed it. Another appeared on his chest, gripping his heart and lungs. Then a gentle, familiar force nudged him.
Brida? He straightened and glanced about with blurry eyes, the presence vanishing. “All right,” he nodded. “I will keep going.” And he stood up, made one more apology to the dead bounty hunters and the gods, and went for the bag that had been thrown from his grasp.
But the bag turned out to be rather light, so he undid the ties and opened it up to see it held only bread, oats, and a leather flask of water. No clothes or blankets.
She really did intend for us to keep going without stopping.
He looked back over his shoulder, but Theodosia’s body was too far to see. It was also unnaturally silent.
I should at least say a prayer over her.
He drew the strings on the bag and turned back the way he came, only he froze with an internal gasp at the realization something was missing. His palm no longer grasped an item.
I lost whatever it was she gave me!
His feet twirled in the snow as he spun about, eyes darting over the earth. He looked around his feet.
Nothing.
He dropped the bag and started digging. Crawled around like a deranged dog until he covered every inch of space from where he fell and the bag had been thrown.
Maybe I dropped it when I ran without realizing it.
He bolted toward Theodosia, chest pounding with the heat that rose through his veins and his mind racing over how the object felt in his grasp. Whatever the item was, she obviously wanted him to have it. It was just that he couldn’t recall anything about the item except that it had been in his hand.
Then a glint caught his eye and he slid to a stop. Just a couple steps to his left, pressed a ways into a hoof print, was a small round pendant on a chain. He reached down for it, the metal colder than ice, and turned it over.
A sixteen spoke wheel was engraved on one side, a leaf on the other. There was also a strange power radiating off the charm, but holding it felt right. So he slipped it around his neck and clipped it into place, and then he made his way back to his gypsy friend.
Other Publications
Books
The Sorceress Saga
The King’s Sorceress
Journey of the Sorceress
Sorceress Under Siege
Fate of the Sorceress
Sorceress in the Skies (SOON)
Fiction World: fictional short stories that
will take you out of this world
Thoughts of Poetry
Short Stories
An Eclectic Collage published by
Freundship Press, LLC
Haunted
Hauntings From the Snake River Plain
published by Other Bunch Press/River
Street Press
The Blind Man’s Dog
Poetry
An Eclectic Collage Vol II:
Relationships of Life published
by
Freundship Press, LLC
Sea of Love
Memory
An Eclectic Collage Vol IV: For the
Love of Animals published by
Freundship Press, LLC
Chuck-It
Thoughts of a Senior Cat