The Unblessed Dead

by Rhiannon Frater

  “Don’t you think he’s handsome?” She lifts her dark eyebrows to punctuate her question.

  “Yes, but I’m about to be married.”

  Leaning toward me, she says in my ear, “But that doesn’t mean you can’t have some fun before you marry.”

  I know she sneaks kisses with one of her brother’s friends, but I can’t fathom why she risks becoming Unclaimed. I worry about her, but I know it won’t do any good. She’ll do as she pleases.

  I shake my head adamantly. “No. I abide by the Lost Texts.”

  Rolling her eyes, Prudence mutters, “Which is why you have no fun.”

  I don’t argue with her even though I’m very uncomfortable speaking about Bale’s interest in me. I don’t understand it. Our way of life is well regimented. There’s no reason for us to interact since we’re destined to marry others.

  Prudence is my only real friend. I don’t want to cause a rift between us. Yet, I appreciated her friendship. Through the years she’s made me laugh when all I wanted to do is cry, and has always defended me against others. The scandal was the primary allure at first, but we’ve become best friends despite her occasional dramatics. The other girls are cordial with me, but I don’t trust them enough to be friends. I sense their disapproval lingering just below the surface of their saccharine smiles.

  We’re caught up in the throng pushing through the front doors as the bells chime overhead. Prudence and I separate. She hurries to the second floor for her lessons, while I ascend to the third. In my final year, all my classes are about taking care of children and the home. I miss reading, writing, math, and studying the history of the Known World, but those days are behind me. Schoolmistress Simmon’s office, the one she shared with her husband until he died, is at the top of the long flight of wood steps.

  Since my mother died and my older sister disappeared into the Deadlands, school has been a place of safety. Schoolmaster and Schoolmistress Simmons never regarded me with the judgment I often felt from others after my mother’s conviction and suicide. If any of the other girls harassed me, they were quick to come to my defense and remind them of my innocence. Schoolmaster Simmons was the only man outside my family I was permitted to speak to since he was my instructor. Since I couldn’t speak to my father about the loss of my mother and Angelina, I often found solace in sharing my feelings with Schoolmaster Simmons. I miss him, but I trust his wife to guide me in his absence.

  Taking a deep breath, I peer through the open door. The Schoolmistress leans over her desk, twirling a bit of her dark red hair with her fingers. I’m not surprised to see a tablet glowing on the desktop. She and her husband aren’t fundamentalist adherents to the Lost Texts. They lived a long time in The Republic before returning to the place of her birth. The Elders shun tech, but it’s not outlawed by the Council of Crats.

  “Ah, Ilyse! Come in!”

  She waves me over to a chair before she moves to shut the door behind me. Like all women in the settlement, she was much younger than her husband, and has yet to have white strands overcome her red hair. Laugh lines decorate the corners of her eyes and adorn the sides of her mouth. The black dress she’s wearing is speckled with crumbs and a half-eaten pastry sits forgotten on a plate on the corner of her desk.

  I tug my bonnet from my head, letting it dangle by the ribbons tied around my neck. Clutching my hands before me, I stare at her as she settles into her chair.

  “I’ve wanted to speak to you since Henry passed away, but the mourning rituals have been very time consuming,” she says, then sighs. “It’s exhausting. In The Republic they have a funeral and a wake and everyone goes back to their lives. It’s so different here.”

  When my mother died, we had to sit through nightly services to atone for her sins and attend mourning dinners. I had hated every second. It was exhausting. Angelina had been furious that the Elders were pretending to mourn the woman they’d put on trial and condemned. She blamed them for her taking her life. Carrie had been too young to understand what was going on, and enjoyed the attention. All I had wanted to do was curl up in my bed and cry.

  “I wanted to talk to you about the application to the Academy,” I start, my stomach fluttering wildly. My throat feels tight. It’s as if my anxiety is strangling me.

  Headmistress Simmons nods. “I wanted to discuss that with you, too.”

  “I would like to apply,” I say, my voice barely audible.

  A bright smile spreads over her face. “Good, because we submitted an application for you.”

  “Oh?” I’m surprised and not certain if I’m relieved or angry.

  “Henry thought it best that we apply for you. If you got accepted, we’d then try to convince you to attend. I just received notice of your acceptance.” She lifts the tablet to show me, and I automatically lower my eyes. “It’s all right to look, Ilyse. Tech can’t hurt you. You need to start getting used to it if you want to go to the Academy.”

  I force myself to obey, and read the words printed on the screen. There is an official seal and signature. I lean forward to verify it’s my name glowing in the correspondence. “I scored high?”

  “Yes. On all your exit exams last year. You can enter any school you desire at the Academy. You can become anything you want, Ilyse. All the schools in The Republic are free. Your room and board aren’t, but the Academy provides a work-study program where you can work a certain amount of hours to pay your food and room.”

  I can scarcely believe all I’m hearing. “What about the train fare?”

  “The Academy will provide a ticket,” she answers, smiling.

  Will it truly be this easy to escape? All the fear and anxiety that has been overwhelming me since we first discovered Matron Chao in the garden suddenly falls away. Hope blooms in my chest, pushing aside the guilt that has lain heavily on my heart. My father is a respected and wealthy man. He’ll recover from the loss of my Bridal Auction, and I won’t have to fear being suspected of being a necromancer. In The Republic the dead are burned. There won’t be a chance of me accidentally summoning the Beloved Dead.

  “What do I have to do?” I can barely breathe from excitement.

  “You’ll need to sign all the acceptance paperwork. It’s very easy. You just sign on the screen and I’ll transmit the document directly to admissions. I can help you prepare your travel documentation as well. Once your father signs-”

  “My father has to sign?” My hopes shatter.

  “Yes. You’re seventeen and the Republic laws consider you underage. Additionally, according to the laws of the Atonement Settlement since you’re a woman you’ll need permission to travel the train.” The schoolmistress sees my expression, and says, “I can speak to your father. I can be very convincing, I can assure you. Your success in academia can only benefit your father.”

  I stare at her in silence knowing she’s wrong. My father won’t sign any travel permission documentation. He’ll be furious at even the mere proposition of me going to The Republic. It was difficult enough to consider his anger if I escaped the settlement, but if I’m forced to stay I don’t think I can endure his disappointment.

  “Ilyse, this is a great opportunity for you. You’ve always been an exemplary student. Though you father might not like the idea of you not marrying at eighteen, it’s not against the Lost Texts for a woman to pursue a career. I know the Elders make it seem so, but nowhere in the Lost Texts is it forbidden. Let me speak to him.”

  “No,” I say through numbed lips. “Don’t. He’ll never agree, and he’s already planning an expansion of his business with the funds from the Bridal Auction.”

  The crestfallen expression on her face matches my own disappointment. “Ilyse, life can be more for you.”

  “You married at seventeen,” I point out.

  “Yes, but my husband believed in me and helped me pursue my dreams in The Republic. I know that’s rare in this settlement. Henry was different because he was from the Radiated Lands. This is your chance to live an independent life
.”

  “Was your father angry when you decided to leave with your husband?”

  “Henry spoke to him and convinced him that there was another way for his daughter to acquire happiness and fulfillment outside the settlement.”

  “What if you were in my position and there wasn’t a Henry to present your case to your father? Would you risk your father’s wrath knowing he could force you to obey him?”

  Sitting back in her chair, the lines in her face deepen as she contemplates my words. She sighs, then shakes her head. “I see your point. Perhaps if I talk to Harris-”

  “He has made up his mind. He has plans for me.”

  I know I am beaten. I feel it to the core of my being. I will have to go over the wall and risk the Deadlands. If I am a necromancer, maybe I will escape a terrible death. Otherwise, I’ll join the Unblessed in their hellish existence.

  “Thank you for trying,” I say, standing.

  “Ilyse,” she says pleadingly.

  “I’ll go to my class now if that is all right?”

  With a sad look on her face, Schoolmistress Simmons says, “Yes. Of course. And if you reconsider-”

  “I won’t.”

  I turn and flee the office. I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to run down the stairs and out into the street. But where would I go? Walls stretch for miles around our settlement. I’m trapped.

  When I enter my sewing class, Prudence gives me a curious look, but I ignore her. Throughout the hour, I’m riddled with anxiety and continuously drop my stitches.

  The hours of the day drag on.

  Each class is torture.

  Prudence attempts to cajole me into conversation at lunch, but I am morose. When she persists, I finally lie and tell her I’m afraid of being married. This explanation results in an all too graphic account of the glories of the flesh. She loves teasing me and seeing me blush. Usually, I’d just roll my eyes and ignore her, but my mind is too burdened for me to enjoy her effusive description. By the time she finishes, I’m even more determined to somehow escape the Bridal Auction. I can’t imagine lying in bed with any man and doing the things Prudence described. Furthermore, I don’t even want to know how she knows these things.

  I feel a bit sullied by the conversation, and when my father comes to collect me and Carrie, I fear he’ll see all my sins weighing on my shoulders. Instead, he smiles and greets us both with kisses on our cheeks.

  We fall into step behind him as we begin our long walk to the train station. The day is warm, but breezy. The streets are less congested since most people are still at work. Other students are allowed to walk home alone, but my father always escorts us. After our mother’s trial, Angelina and I were harassed on the street by some of the more fervent followers of the Lost Texts. After she climbed the wall and escaped, people still regarded me with suspicion. I’m never allowed to go anywhere without my father.

  A funeral procession passes us. The old woman being carried to the Perdition Ceremony is close to death. I can hear the air rattling in her lungs. Already her wrists and feet are bound to the stretcher. Her death must be very close, and I am relieved for her family. They won’t have to wait too long for her to be put to rest with the other Beloved Dead. When I was little, my family waited all day and nearly all night for my grandfather to take his last breath while he lay on the Sanctuary Altar.

  Soon we enter the heart of the settlement. The pink granite buildings are clustered around a square. The main Meeting Hall stands taller than the Council of Crats building, a reminder that the Lost Texts rule, not the government. Flowering plants and blooming trees in small patches are the only decoration allowed. Once, long ago, a statue of our founding couple stood in the center of the square, but it was torn down once the settlement voted to strictly follow the Lost Texts. The older buildings are much more ornate than the newer ones even with the attempt to remove any decorative ornamentation. Despite this endeavor, the pillars of the council house still impress me whenever I see them.

  My father never speaks to us when we go to town with him, and I welcome the silence. I don’t know what I would say. I feel as if all my fears, worries, and secrets are on the tip of my tongue, ready to spill out of me. It’s a terrible feeling. Worse yet, Carrie keeps stealing looks in my direction. I know she can sense I’m keeping things from her, but I don’t dare share them with her.

  At last the impressive, sprawling train station appears. It’s a monstrosity according to my father, but I like the swooping curve of the roof, the glass walls, and metal latticework that holds it all together. We ascend the sloping flagstone walkway to the main doors that slide open as we approach.

  Inside, the cool air that smells like vanilla and cinnamon rushes over our heated skin. The concourse leading to where the passengers disembark is lined by colorful shops filled with clothing that no one in the settlement would ever dare to wear, decorations we’d never adorn our homes with, cosmetics the women would never smear on their faces, and books we’d never be allowed to read. All these shops are geared toward the travelers. But we do like the coffee, tea, and spice shop. The very best thing of all is the chocolates from the candy store.

  As we were taught from a very young age, we avert our eyes from the flashing vid screens promoting all sorts of products and services in between the announcements of imminent train arrival. I shiver under my cotton cape and grin at Carrie as she lifts her hand to touch the cold draft emanating from a vent. We both love air conditioning, something we’d never be allowed to have at home.

  “So, what is in the package you’re picking up?” Carrie asks when we are at last eating chocolates.

  The candy store is near the package pickup counter, and we have a clear view of the platform. Above our heads, a sign flashes that the train is on time and about to arrive.

  My father’s stern face smiles with affection at me. His obvious love forms a lump in my throat. The fact I conspired to run away from him makes me feel simply horrible.

  “It’s silk fabric for Ilyse’s wedding gown. Only the best for my daughters,” he says proudly.

  “Thank you,” I stammer, and quickly push a ball of chocolate into my mouth. I don’t think my conscience can take much more.

  “What’s silk?” Carrie fishes another chocolate out of the brown bag my father is clutching. She unwraps the bright pink foil and pops the candy into her mouth.

  “It’s a very fine fabric. I special ordered it from the Enclave. She will be humble and without pride, but dressed as a favored daughter at her Bridal Auction.”

  A loud bell rings out through the speakers overhead, and a voice announces the arrival of the train. It enters the terminal, whisper quiet, resembling a sleek silver snake. People emerge from shops to await the arrival of friends and family or perhaps preparing to depart. The smooth silver skin of the train opens to reveal doorways. Soon a steady stream of people flow from the train and across the concourse.

  Carrie and I openly watch the exotic newcomers in their unusual clothing. I wonder where they are from. The Enclave? The Republic? The Radiated Lands? The Reclaimed Settlements? With sorrow, I realize it doesn’t matter. I will never see those places, even if I escape into the Deadlands and manage to survive. I feel sickened by the realization that I no longer have a future.

  As the passengers thin out, my father watches with a stern look on his face. “I see they’re respecting our wishes,” he says at last.

  “Who?” I ask.

  “The Enclave. They asked the Council if they could send a Cleric to deal with the Unblessed Dead that are gathering near the river. The Elders told them not to send one of their heretics here. That we will deal with the issue.” My father appears satisfied when no one in the robes of a necromancer appears. “I see that they are finally respecting our wishes. We’ve had to turn away several heretics in the last few weeks.”

  “What will we do to the Unblessed?” Carrie digs around in the paper bag and pulls out another candy.

  “Undecided, but they�
��ll be dealt with,” my father assures her.

  It appears as if all the passengers have disembarked, and I start to look away when one last person emerges. A young man with a scruffy blond goatee steps down from the train dressed strikingly in a long black coat and wide-brimmed black hat. His dark blond hair feathers against his high collar and frames a handsome face with high cheekbones, hooded eyes, and a finely-shaped mouth. He’s probably only a few years older than me, but there is a confident swagger to his gait. Feelings that I don’t even have names for bubble up inside me, flushing my cheeks and making my heart beat faster. I lower my eyes to hide the fact he’s captured my attention, but I continue to furtively watch him.

  Pausing in the center of the concourse, he scratches his chin with fingers adorned with silver rings.

  But it’s not the jewelry that catches my eye.

  It’s the swirling greenish fire dancing around his hands.

  I gasp, and Carrie sharply looks at me.

  And so does the stranger.

  It’s impossible to look away from the strange glow around the man’s fingers. I start to turn to Carrie to ask if she sees it, but I realize from the calm demeanor of everyone around the man that no one else is witness to the eerie phenomena.

  My father folds the top of the brown paper bag and hands it to me. “They’re about to open the package counter. We best get in line.”

  I clutch the bag of sweets and follow him. I try not to look back at the stranger, but I can’t stop myself.

  Standing in the center of the concourse, the newcomer watches me trail after my father.

  A crooked smile on his lips, he lifts his hand and waves at me. The green flames around his fingers expand like a vaporous ribbon, rippling through the air, and reaching out to me.

  In my mind, I hear a voice that is not my own.

  Don’t speak about what you see. Wait for me.

  Chapter 4

  The Unblessed Dead

  It’s difficult to pretend everything is fine when you’re terrified.