Ever Marked (The Claren Trilogy Book 1)

by Mary Akers

  Elora tried once more to twist around and regain her footing, but the storm had not abated even a little and a fierce gust of wind quickly tossed her back against the wall, now softened by the vines. Though the spikes and jagged rocks weren’t as much of a threat anymore, she still couldn’t stay up there, dangling defenselessly on the rope. The storm was seemingly tireless and endless, and potentially could get even worse. She had to get down.

  Gently, hesitantly, Elora unwound her feet from the rope and shifted her weight onto a thick, woody vine growing beneath her. Slowly, she let go of the rope with one hand, grabbing hold of another vine. They seemed strong enough to support her weight. With an anxious inhale, she released the rope entirely. Quickly, she climbed down the wall of vines, fearful that they would collapse beneath her at any moment.

  Suddenly a pair of arms grabbed her around the waist, lifting her off the wall. No sooner were her feet on the ground then Asher pulled her into his arms, nearly crushing her against him.

  “Oh God, Elora,” she heard him cry, his voice strained. “I’m so sorry. Are you hurt?”

  She couldn’t speak, so overwhelmed by what had just happened and likely in shock from her injuries. She nodded her head against his shoulder in answer.

  “Can you walk?” he asked, shouting in her ear to be heard over the wind.

  Could she? A boom of thunder shook the ground and she decided that if it meant getting out of the storm faster, she could find a way to run if she had to.

  She nodded her head again, looking up at Asher, only able to see the outline of his head against the stormy sky.

  “Yes?” he asked.

  “Yes!” she shouted, finally able to summon her voice.

  He released her and grabbed for her hand, taking it firmly in his and turning away from the wall. Lightning brightened the sky for a moment, revealing a small barn bordering a wheat field about 300 yards away. He began pulling her towards the field, charging through the knee high stalks, fighting against the wind and rain.

  Elora tried to keep up, but kept slipping and tripping, her body unwieldy after the trauma of her descent over the wall. After her third fall, Asher stopped and moved in front of her, crouching down with his back to her. He took hold of her hands and joined them around his neck and then, reaching back, he grabbed behind her thighs and pulled her up onto his back. She barely had time to realize what had happened before he took off at a run towards the barn. She held on for dear life, gripping with her legs and leaning forward to lock her elbow over his shoulder. His arms were hooked behind her knees, clamping down on her legs painfully. She was sure she would be bruised later but she was so grateful to be carried that it didn’t even matter. She could feel the strength and agility of his body beneath her, moving them quickly over the rough terrain. Each bolt of lightning revealed that they were nearing the safety of the barn.

  A few minutes later he came to a stop and released his grip on her legs, catching her as she slid to the ground. He was panting with exertion, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Elora took hold of his hand and pulled him the few remaining feet toward the barn. She fumbled in the darkness, feeling for the latch of the door and lifted it, sliding it open and stepping inside. Asher quickly followed and closed the door behind him.

  The barn was pitch black. The wind whistled through cracks between the weathered boards, warped by years baking in the relentless sun. Rain dripped steadily through a few gaps in the aged roof above. But the barn was solid and mostly dry.

  Elora breathed a sigh of relief, finally protected from the storm raging outside and free of the walls of Windom. She could still hear Asher’s labored breathing a few feet away.

  “Have you ever been here before?” he asked between huffs. “Do you know what’s in here?”

  “No,” Elora answered. “I’ve never been beyond the wall before.”

  Elora stretched out her arms protectively in front of her as she began feeling around the barn, trying to identify her surroundings, hoping she wouldn’t encounter anything sinister.

  “How injured are you, Elora?” Asher asked quietly a moment later, his voice strained with guilt.

  “I’m not sure,” Elora responded. “The wind knocked me against the wall quite a few times.”

  “I should have let you go first,” he said with a sigh, his voice throttled with regret.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” she replied, wincing as her injured arm brushed against a post.

  Her head hit against something hard and she heard the familiar rattle of glass and metal. Her eyes widened with excitement as she reached up with her good arm to find a lantern hanging from a hook mounted high on the post.

  “It’s a lantern!” she cried, turning towards Asher. “Do you have any flint?”

  She heard him moving towards her. He took the lantern from her hands and knelt down beside her. A moment later, a small spark lit the barn. He had found a small amount of dried straw to catch the flame, lifting it to ignite the wick of the oil lantern. Standing, he stomped out the straw and lifted the now burning lantern, filling the barn with a warm glow. Elora sighed and her spirits lifted, grateful for the comfort of being able to see again after stumbling around in the darkness for so long. She looked around, surveying the contents of the barn. There were scythes, hoes, shovels, and pitchforks sorted in stalls lining one of the walls. A few plows were parked in one corner with leather harnesses hanging on racks nearby. Shelving and a rough workbench were built into a partial wall which blocked off the back third of the barn for what looked like storage. The building was obviously used by the workers who managed the exterior crops. It wasn’t a large space, but they weren’t nearly as cramped as they had been in the schoolhouse shed. She smiled and turned to Asher.

  “Oh God, Elora,” he whispered, horrified.

  “What?” Elora asked, alarmed.

  She lifted her hand to touch her head, finally noticing the dull throb of pain now that things had calmed down. Every part of her body was soaking wet after being exposed to the storm for the past hour, so she hadn’t noticed that she was bleeding. But as she dropped her hand, she now saw that her fingers were red with blood. She looked up at Asher with wide eyes, her mouth agape in surprise.

  Asher took a knife from his belt and slit the bottom hem of his shirt, tearing off a strip of fabric. He stepped close to her, gently wiping away the blood that was dripping down the side of her face and looked for her injury. There was a cut on her head, hidden in the hair above her temple.

  “It doesn’t look deep,” Asher said, pressing the fabric to the gash.

  Elora flinched at his touch and he grimaced apologetically.

  “Does it hurt anywhere else?” he asked, his eyes searching hers anxiously.

  “It hurts everywhere else,” she admitted, sighing.

  “Keep pressure on this,” he said, taking her hand and placing it over the makeshift bandage.

  He pulled at the strings near her throat, untying the drenched cloak from around her neck and pulling it free. It fell to the floor with a soggy “thwap.” At the sight of her shoulder, he exhaled sharply. Elora’s tan tunic was light red with watered down blood. The spike had ripped a hole through her shirt and left a ragged gash across her shoulder. Asher quickly tore another strip of fabric from his shirt and carefully applied it to her wound.

  Elora’s eyes were closed and her brows were furrowed as she tried to hold her head still. She knew she had knocked her head against the wall a few times, though she hadn’t realize how hard the impacts had been. But now that the adrenaline was wearing off, her head was pounding and her neck was sore.

  “Is it bad?” she asked, her lips pursed in discomfort.

  “It’s not as bad as your shirt made it seem,” he said, relief evident in his voice. “But there will probably be a scar once it heals.”

  He tore another strip from his shirt and wra
pped it around her shoulder to hold the bandage in place.

  “Your arms and hands are scraped pretty raw, but nothing else seems to be bleeding,” he said finally, after looking her over.

  “I’m going to be covered in bruises by the morning,” Elora said, sighing. She opened one eye to glance up at him. “I knocked my head pretty good,” she admitted with a wince.

  “You need to sit down,” Asher said, taking her by the elbow and leading her to the workbench.

  She followed submissively, distracted by the pounding in her head and the ache in her shoulder. The surface of the workbench was relatively high and she looked at it, considering whether having a dry place to sit was worth the effort of climbing up there. Her mouth fell open in surprise when he suddenly gripped her waist and lifted her onto the table. His hands dropped from her sides to brace on either side of her legs as he leaned against the table beside her. He fixed his eyes onto hers and it was all she could do to remember to breathe.

  “I am so sorry,” he whispered.

  The urge to touch his face was nearly overwhelming. She swallowed self-consciously, trying to keep hold of her senses despite the intensity of his stare. A lock of wet hair had fallen over his forehead and her fingers twitched of their own accord, desperate to smooth it back. Finally breaking eye contact, she cleared her throat and scooted her legs back on the table until she could lean against the wall. She clumsily pulled the strap of her satchel over her head, and let it fall beside her.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” she repeated. “If that storm had held off another few minutes, I would have made it down the wall with no problem.”

  “I just thought, with the torches going out and the storm scaring everyone off the wall, it was an opportunity to escape unnoticed,” he explained.

  “Well, it was,” Elora said, lowering the hand that was holding pressure on her head wound and gingerly touching her injury, feeling for fresh blood. Finding that the cut had stopped bleeding, she dropped her hands into her lap and rested her head back against the wall, closing her eyes.

  “But I never considered how dangerous it would be to scale the wall in the storm,” he said, shaking his head.

  “We’re safe now,” Elora replied. “And it looks like we did get over unnoticed.”

  “For now,” Asher replied. “Until the morning when everyone sees what you did,” Asher replied.

  Elora’s eyes flew open and locked with his as she realized that the very thing that had saved her would also reveal their escape to the Liana.

  “I didn’t mean to,” she said. “I was freaking out and they just grew.”

  “It’s alright,” Asher said, placing a soothing hand on her knee. “It was a good thing. I was about to come back up that rope to get you and I’m not sure either of us would have survived that.”

  “What now?” Elora asked anxiously.

  “You rest here a while,” he said. “I’m going to go get Kit.”

  “Kit?” Elora asked, confused.

  “My horse,” he replied. “I left her pastured not far from here.”

  Panicked, Elora grabbed hold of his hand.

  “Wait! You’re leaving me here alone?” she asked, the pitch of her voice high with anxiety.

  “Not for long,” he said, squeezing her hand. “I’ll be right back. And once the storm lets up, we’ll go.”

  Elora was at her limit. In the wake of losing her parents and saying goodbye to friends, she felt completely untethered. After her harrowing descent down the wall, every part of her body ached. With the storm raging outside and the Liana lying in wait, she had never felt so vulnerable. Asher’s presence, his calm, his kindness was the only thing holding her together. The last thing she wanted was to be alone.

  “I don’t like this,” she said, her eyes wide.

  “Just try to relax and recover for a little while, Elora,” he said in a tone that brooked no more argument.

  “Please hurry,” she said, still gripping tightly to his hand.

  “I will,” he said, gently pulling his hand free. “Don’t go anywhere,” he warned. “Don’t come after me.”

  Elora nodded stiffly, trying to control her fear.

  “Just wait,” he said, leaning forward to look directly into her eyes, the words spoken softly but with emphasis.

  Elora stared back at him, the fear evident on her face. He didn’t move, waiting for a response.

  “Okay,” she said, swallowing hard around the lump in her throat.

  He nodded and squeezed her hand. Turning, he walked over to the barn door but paused with his hand on the latch. He looked back at her one last time.

  “Wait for me, Elora,” he said, his eyes fixed on hers.

  She froze, caught off guard by the words that had haunted her.

  Not lingering for a reply, he lifted the latch and slid the door open a few inches. A gust of wind billowed through the gap and turned the air inside the barn turbulent, making the lantern flicker and sending dust and straw airborne. Elora closed her eyes and turned her face away, startled by the blast of debris. The air settled suddenly and she looked up to find the door shut and Asher gone. She stared at the place where he had stood only a moment ago, her heart thudding in her chest.

  Could it be? Could Asher be the man in her visions. It had been weeks since she’d first had that vision and the man had only said those words to her once. Would she even be able to recognize his voice if she heard it again? But the sound of Asher’s voice, the way his accent curled around those words, was so familiar.

  “No,” she whispered to herself, shaking her head.

  Asher couldn’t be her soulmate. He hadn’t been paired yet. He had never mentioned any visions, much less visions of her. And he seemed so desperate to find his soulmate. He believed in the power of the Ever Tree so completely. If he had been paired with her, he would have said something? Besides, she didn’t feel the same way for Asher as she did about the man in her visions. Did she?

  “Stop it, Elora,” she admonished, shaking her head again more vigorously before wincing in pain from her injuries.

  “It was probably just a coincidence,” she thought, surprised by the disappointment that tugged at her heart. She closed her eyes and dropped her head back against the wall, a small smile playing on her lips.

  Probably.

  Chapter 21

  Every crack of thunder made her jump out of her skin. Elora sat on the workbench, acutely aware of every detail of her surroundings, her eyes wide with paranoia. Asher had been gone at least 20 minutes by now and she was struggling to follow his instructions. She stared at the door to the barn, her legs twitching with the urge to go looking for him.

  The ache in her head had subsided somewhat and she sat up, sliding her bottom towards the edge of the table. She was too restless to sit still anymore. The Elysic Cloak caught her eye, laying on the floor in a sodden heap. She walked over and picked it up, leaving a small puddle in its place. She began wringing out the fabric, and then hung it from a peg on one of the posts.

  Looking for a distraction, she took hold of the lantern and made her way to the darkened storage area of the barn to explore. As she rounded the corner, there was the rustling sound of mice scurrying into hiding. She held the lantern high, looking around at the odds and ends that had been left there over the years. A hopelessly broken plow, a few scythes rusted through, but there was nothing very interesting or useful.

  She wandered back to the main area of the barn and peered around, taking a closer look at its contents. Her eyes lighting on a leather water bladder hanging from the corner of one of the tool stalls, she gasped. She hurried over, taking the flask in her hands and turning it over, looking for holes. Perhaps it had just been forgotten and not discarded. She couldn’t see anything wrong with it. She smiled, excited to have found something useful. Walking over to the workbench, she placed the bladder be
side her satchel and turned to look at the door once more, hopeful that Asher would walk through at any moment. Sighing with disappointment, she continued her inspection of the barn.

  After 5 more agonizing minutes, Elora couldn’t take it anymore. Something must have happened to him. She had waited long enough.

  She retrieved the cloak from where it hung drying and rolled it up, returning to her belongs on the workbench. The leather satchel had kept its contents surprisingly dry despite the torrential downpour. She shoved the cloak into the bag, not caring that it was still wet. The flask went in as well before she lifted the strap over her head and across her chest, tucking the bag behind her hip. She took hold of the lantern and walked with determination to the barn door. Her hand on the latch, she took a deep breath and was about to open it when the handle jerked out of her hands.

  The door slid open and Asher was suddenly before her, water dripping down his face. She jumped back in surprise as he walked in leading a brown horse, its coat so drenched it appeared nearly black. She quickly slid the door shut behind him and turned to watch him, breathless with relief.

  “Were you going somewhere?” he asked, his back towards her as he fiddled with the straps on his saddle.

  “I thought something had happened to you,” she replied, sheepishly.

  “I told you to wait,” he said angrily, shifting to glare at her briefly before returning to his task.

  “You also told me you’d be right back,” she replied, lashing out, her voice strained with all the anxiety and frustration she’d pent up over the past hour.

  “I know,” he said, shaking his head. “Kit was spooked by the storm and it took me a while to catch her.”

  Elora approached the horse’s head, holding her hand out to stroke her muzzle.