The Darkness of Light

by Tammy Farrell

  When the warmth of the late morning sun soaked through the cloak covering the mouth of the cave, Mara opened her eyes. She examined the unfamiliar surroundings, and sat up quickly as the horrors of the previous day came flooding back. Her stomach lurched, and she fell out of the cave just as the bile from her empty stomach spilled out of her. Her mother was dead. Burned alive. And she was alone. When the heaving finally stopped, she stumbled away from the little enclosure, shielding her eyes from the light poking through the trees. The stream had settled from the previous day’s rain. She knelt before it, splashed the icy water on her face, and gathered small handfuls to drink.

  When she sat back, she couldn’t stop herself from remembering everything with misery. What felt like a bad dream yesterday, had become a sickening reality in the light of day. She pulled her knees close to her chest, feeling the oppressive hand of sorrow upon her. How had life changed so suddenly? Moorthrop used to be a quiet place. There were never murders, or executions. Is this what the Christian God would want? Would the monks who occasionally visited Moorthrop from the east approve of such things?

  If Moorthrop had been left alone to abide by its own unwritten laws like it had for centuries, lives could have been spared. But there was nothing to be done about it now. Mara’s mother was gone and nothing could bring her back. As tears began to roll down Mara’s cheeks, she wondered why her mother would deny the Christian God, when acknowledging him could have saved her. Why had she seemed like such a willing victim?

  Once again, the surge of unwelcome emotions became too much for Mara. Her soul was heavy, and her body shook. She thought she might never pull herself out of it when suddenly the stillness of the forest was interrupted by the sound of breaking branches. Mara jumped to her feet and kicked away the ashes of the dead fire. Then, grabbing her cloak, she turned to run, but the sound came closer. She dashed behind the cave under a bush and pulled the cloak around her.

  The footsteps were at the campsite, and then she heard a raspy voice say, “I’m hungry, Terric. Why are ye draggin’ me out here? I told ye she’s on the road. No woman would be dumb enough to come this far out.”

  Another man groaned. “Ben! Listen here, ye fool! I told ye I saw ‘er head into the forest. Isn’t a village near here that she could have got to by now. And I’m not passing up five silver pieces just so ye can fill yer belly sooner. Now shut yer fucking yap or I’ll give ye more than a hungry belly to moan about.”

  “Terric, I’m sick of your…wait. What’s that?”

  Mara gripped the dagger Drake had given her as the two voices fell silent. If she could just summon the fire, they might flee. But her palms felt cold and her head was spinning. Her only chance was to outrun them. She held her breath and listened as the footsteps neared, but before she could make a run for it, the men were before her. “Eh, would yah look at that, Terric.” A pair of hands reached through the branches and pulled Mara out.

  “Let go of me,” Mara screamed, swinging the dagger at the man holding her arm. He grabbed her wrist with a holler and smashed her hand on the rock of the cave. The dagger dropped. Mara twisted herself around and bit the man’s arm. He cried out and pushed her to the ground.

  The other man bent down. “It’s the lamb we’ve been lookin’ for.”

  “She ain’t no lamb, I tell yah that much,” said the one with the raspy voice, shaking his hand in pain. “More like a rabid dog, I’d say.”

  “Rabid dog or not, she’s worth a pretty penny.”

  Mara scanned the ground for the dagger.

  “Lookin’ for this?” Ben said, dangling it in front of her. When Mara lunged for it, the man pulled it back in a fit of laughter. “She’s a quick one. I wonder what she done to have such a high price on her head?” He pouted at her. “What did you do, pretty miss?”

  Mara didn’t answer.

  “Don’t talk, huh? That’s a good quality in a whore. Maybe we don’t need to take ‘er back right away, eh Terric?”

  “Suppose not.”

  Ben took a step towards Mara just as a loud crash rumbled in the distance, like the sound of a large tree hitting the ground. When both men turned towards it, Mara jumped up and bolted past them. She could hear their curses behind her, but she was gaining ground, leaping over fallen trees, and digging her leather shoes into the muddy earth. They were far behind her when she heard the sound of rushing water. She headed towards it, knowing it was unlikely her attackers knew how to swim. In an open clearing, she came upon a sheer drop into a wide gorge. The vertical, rocky walls on either side dropped down into a pooled section of the river. Mara stopped as the tips of her toes kissed the edge. She glanced back as the men came into view, and then looked back into the gorge. The drop was steep, but the lake looked deep enough to catch her.

  With a deep breath, Mara pushed herself off the edge. The descent was long as she tried to straighten her body for the impact, but she hit the river hard and it sucked her down into the murky water. Her arms pulled at the darkness, trying to get to the surface, but the lake was not as deep as she thought, and in the muffled stillness of the water, she could hear the sickening crack as her right ankle met with a boulder.

  Her underwater screams left her breathless, while a stream of blood snaked its way around her. The sight of the blood froze her as she came to the surface. She sucked in burning breaths of air, swam to the edge of the shore, and pulled herself out of the water. Her chest heaved, and when she finally looked at her ankle, her stomach turned. It was deformed and twisted at a horrifying angle, with blood seeping from what looked like protruding bone.

  “Is she alive?” asked a voice from above.

  Mara looked up to see her pursuers standing at the top of the gorge.

  “Looks like it. Better get down there before she kills herself or a wolf gets ‘er.”

  She had just moments before the men were down the gorge. With deep breaths, she tried to summon the fire, but her hands were cold, her body shaking, and her vision blurred. She’d never had to use it on command like this before. “Why won’t it come?” she cried. With a trembling hand she collected the rocks around her and waited for them. But there was only silence.

  Suddenly a loud groan bounced off the walls of the gorge, and a moment later, something hit the ground beside her. She turned to see one of the men sprawled out on the ground, his eyes open in a dead stare.

  Another sound came from above, a loud terrified shriek, and she looked up just as the second man flew off the edge of the cliff. He too fell to the ground in a dead heap. Mara stiffened, and her heart raced when she saw two hooded men step to the ledge. Her mind was in chaos from the pain in her leg. Was she seeing them clearly? They looked like the strange men she’d seen in Moorthrop. The pain shot up and down her leg and she’d almost convinced herself that she had become unhinged, but within seconds, the men were on the bank of the river walking towards her. She hurled rocks at them until there were no more in her reach, and then terrified, she watched them approach, like a wounded deer waiting for the final blow of the huntsman’s arrow.

  They stopped several feet from her and pulled back the hoods of their dark cloaks. She saw the pale one with the gray eyes, the one from Moorthrop. His expression was calm and curious; his eyes were a soft gray, less severe than what she remembered.

  The other man was taller, leaner, and unlike the pale one’s blank stare, Mara noted a hint of concern in his blue eyes. She couldn’t stop staring at the sword on his back. Perhaps these are the angels of death she’d heard the monks speak about. First they came for her mother, and now they were here for her. For a brief moment, she forgot about her leg, and when she tried to move, a fierce pain seared through her. Mara recoiled as the pale one stepped forward.

  “It’s all right,” he said. “We aren’t going to hurt you.” His words were meant to reassure, but Mara remained guarded. His gray eyes narrowed, and for a moment, he looked almost irritated. Then he said, “We just saved your life, you know. The least you could do is sho
w a little gratitude.”

  The man with the short, dark hair stepped forward. “Calm down, Malcolm. Can’t you see she’s in pain?” He knelt down near Mara and looked at her ankle. “You’ve broken it. The bone has broken right through the skin.” He reached out his hand, but Mara shifted away, shrieking out in pain from the sudden movement.

  He held up his hands. “It’s all right,” he said gently. “We can fix this.”

  Mara eyed him. “Just leave me alone,” she cried.

  “I know it hurts. But I can help you.” His voice was smooth, his expression obliging. “But you have to let me get close if you want me to fix it.”

  Mara felt her chest tighten. She had witnessed a broken bone being set in her village. A grown man had fallen off his horse on the hillside. He screamed like a child when they pulled it into place, and even then, his injury was nowhere near as deformed as hers.

  The man took a slow step forward. “Please,” he said.

  Mara hesitated, but what choice did she have? Finally, she nodded. The man moved closer towards her ankle and rubbed his hands together, but just before he touched her, she felt a rush of blood to her head, her eyes lost focus, and everything went dark.

  Pain had never been present in Mara’s life. Not once had she ever broken a bone, scraped a knee, or fallen ill with sickness. Not for one single day. She couldn’t even recall a time when she had shed a tear or felt true sadness. However, the last two days had delivered her blow after miserable blow.

  It was true she had witnessed sickness, death, and injustice. Such was life in Moorthrop. But she was quickly learning that being a witness to such things and being a participant in them were two very different things.

  When Mara woke, she kept her eyes closed, listening. In her stillness, there was no pain. The sounds of footsteps were near her, and the smell of fire filled the air.

  “What have you done to her, Corbin? She hasn’t moved.”

  “She needs rest, Malcolm. You would too if you’d been through what she has. It won’t be much longer.”

  There was a brief pause. “Did you hear them say there was a price on her head? I wonder why they would do that,” Malcolm said.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never heard of a bounty on an accused witch. If they escape the village, they’re usually not pursued. We’ll have to ask Rowan about it.”

  Letting her curiosity take over, Mara opened her eyes. The two men sat across from her in front of a low fire. The sun was still out, and the gorge was nowhere in sight. Both men looked up at her with eager curiosity. Mara anticipated the pain in her leg, but when she sat up, she felt nothing. The cloak she had left behind at the cave was laid across her like a blanket. She lifted it off to see that her ankle looked completely healed. She slowly turned it from side to side in amazement. “How…”

  The man with the gray eyes, Malcolm, arched his brow. “Feel better?”

  Mara nodded, still turning her leg. “It doesn’t feel broken.”

  Malcolm shrugged his shoulders. “Corbin’s good with stuff like that.” He held out an apple. “Are you hungry?”

  Mara took it. For the first time since she left Moorthrop, she could feel her stomach rumbling for food.

  Corbin, the taller of the two, leaned forward and pulled a piece of fish from the fire. “Eat this,” he said, handing it to her.

  “Thank you,” she said. “How long have I been passed out?”

  Malcolm looked up at the sky through the trees. “A day and a half. I was beginning to think you’d never wake up.”

  “And what about the men?” Mara asked, looking around for the bodies.

  Malcolm snickered. “They’re definitely dead. They were dead before they even hit the ground.”

  “Oh,” Mara said, unsure how else to respond. These men were clearly murderers, and she couldn’t forget the sense of warning she felt when she saw Malcolm in Moorthrop. But they had helped her, and though she still wasn’t completely at ease, at least she wasn’t being dragged back to Moorthrop.

  Malcolm extended his hand to her. “My name is Malcolm.”

  “I’m Mara.”

  “I know that,” he said. “And you remember Corbin?” Malcolm shot Corbin a taunting smirk.

  Corbin stood, nodded, and sat back down. There was a long, uncomfortable silence between Mara and the strange men. As she examined them, she couldn’t decide what to think of them. Malcolm looked different than she remembered him in Moorthrop. His white-blond hair fell over his eyes, and though he looked to be near her age, his features made him seem almost boyish. Corbin looked like he could have been a soldier in Moorthrop, but his manner when he first approached her was gentle and kind, not what she’d expected. She remembered the feeling that ran through her when her eyes first met Malcolm’s in Moorthrop. Perhaps her instincts were wrong, clouded by her mother’s trial.

  Mara looked at Corbin. “Thank you for helping me,” she said.

  He gave a quick nod, not lifting his gaze. “You should try and stand on it,” he said.

  Although the wound was gone, the memory of the pain caused her to hesitate.

  “Just give it a try,” he urged, getting to his feet and offering her his hands. She placed her hands in his and let out a gasp when she felt a steady vibration on her skin. He met her startled gaze with a gentle smile, and pulled her to her feet. “Don’t worry,” he assured. “I promise it won’t hurt.”

  The strange tingling sensation from his touch continued as she took the first step, and then another. It felt as though it was energizing her. She let go of Corbin’s hands and stared at him in disbelief. She was healed, completely healed. Corbin stepped back with an uncomfortable smile. “There you go. I guess it wasn’t broken after all,” he said, giving her a quick wink.

  Before she could ask him how, Malcolm clapped his hands together. “This is all very sweet, but can we please get going before I spend the rest of my life in this forest?” Mara found herself scowling at him.

  Corbin shook his head and turned to Mara. “He can be a bit harsh sometimes, but he means well.”

  “Harsh!” Malcolm exclaimed. “We’ve just killed two men to save her, sat here waiting for her to finish her nap, and yet here she is, looking at me like I’m some kind of villain. Who do you think made the tree fall to distract those two so you could get away? Yes, that was me!”

  Mara turned abruptly, picked up her cloak, and tried to walk away from them, but Malcolm stepped in her path. His expression softened and he held up his hands, yielding to her glare. “Fine, I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t mean to sound angry. I would just prefer if we didn’t sit around like sheep waiting for more outlaws to come by.”

  Holding her cloak close to her, she looked from Malcolm to Corbin. “I can’t go with you,” she finally said. “I made a promise to go to the next village.”

  “You can’t go to that village,” Malcolm said.

  Mara pursed her lips. “And why not? Why go to all the trouble of helping me? Are you like those other men, just looking for a reward?”

  Corbin stepped between them, his broad shoulders almost blocking Malcolm completely. He looked at her with sincerity in his blue eyes. “We don’t want to take you back to Moorthrop. But you heard those men; there is a price on your head. There will be others looking for you, maybe even soldiers. So right now, there isn’t a place in this realm that’s safe for you.”

  Mara considered what he said, remembering her inability to summon her fire on her attackers. If there were more outlaws looking for her, could she escape them all? Her shoulders hunched in uncertainty. “How will they know who I am in the next village? I can say I’m from the north.”

  Corbin smirked. “They will know who you are. And besides, a lone woman arriving in any village is always cause for suspicion. Trust me, I know.”

  This made Mara think of her mother, arriving all alone in Moorthrop, and no matter how much time had passed, she was never one of them. Mara looked at Corbin and Malcolm, sensing the unease
between the two. There was something they weren’t telling her. “Why were you in Moorthrop?” she asked. They flashed each other a quick glance. “Why were you in Moorthrop? And what are you doing out here?” Mara asked again.

  Malcolm exhaled. “We were sent to deliver a message to your mother.”

  “What kind of message?” she asked.

  Corbin gave a cautious look to Malcolm, reached into the pouch at his side and withdrew a folded piece of parchment with the seal still intact. “We were to deliver this message to your mother, and bring her back with us, but by the time we got there, it was too late,” he said.

  Mara stared at the letter and then held out her hand for it. “What’s in it?” Many questions raced through her mind. As far as Mara knew, her mother had no kin, no friends in other places. Who would send her a message, let alone summon her?

  Malcolm shook his head. “We don’t know what’s in it.”

  Mara held out her hand. “Give it to me.”

  Corbin looked to Malcolm.

  “Please, give it to me,” she said, her voice cracking.

  “Can you read?” Malcolm asked.

  Mara narrowed her eyes and grabbed the letter out of Corbin’s hand. “Of course I can,” she said, as if every peasant could.

  She held the letter with great care, as though it was a piece of fractured glass on the threshold of shattering. Her fingers traced the red wax, stamped with a looping quaternary symbol. She walked away from Malcolm and Corbin’s watchful eyes and snapped the seal in two. The letter was written in uncial script, normally used by scribes. The broad, single stroke letters were marked by a much practiced hand, resembling her mother’s own writing. Mara took a deep breath and read.

  My dear sister,

  The last time we were together seems like an eternity, though an eternity was indeed your desire. What more could I have done to prevent your sudden departure, the elements of which are still a mystery to me. For these many long and forlorn years of separation I have abided your request to keep the distance between us, but it is now, dear Ethnea, that I must forsake my oath in favor of the imbalance that has begun to linger in the air. Have you felt it?