by Lucy Hounsom
Wondering what they were saying, Kyndra ducked behind the curtain. Her boots snagged on its fraying threads. Muttering, she ripped them free. The cushions were sun-faded and fraying too. She pushed several out of the way to reveal the wood beneath, streaked with old varnish. Shielded by the curtain, she began to brush the tips of her fingers over the seat, searching for the loose panel.
Lifting it up, she fumbled for the book in which she kept the old alphabet parchment. Her hand closed on its spine and she wiggled it free from amongst her other possessions: a smooth black pebble, a bunch of letters from Jhren’s aunt and uncle, an abnormally long feather that Colta had found last year. She cradled the book in one hand and replaced the panel with the other. Then, trying to appear as unobtrusive as possible, she slipped back to the table in the corner.
The strangers watched her come. With a furtive look over her shoulder, Kyndra sat down. She knew she was needed in the kitchen, but curiosity pressed her to stay. Outside, the wind tossed itself against the inn and she imagined dark wings swooping between the chimney pots.
‘This bit is the oldest. It’s an alphabet.’ She opened the book and laid the ancient parchment in front of Brégenne, remembering too late that the woman wouldn’t be able to see it. She shifted uncomfortably as Nediah reached out and scanned the half-faded text. Kyndra expected him to describe it to his companion, but the man continued to read to himself and when he had finished, returned the parchment to the table. He took a sip of his wine.
‘How did you know the vineyards of Calmarac produced golden grapes at the height of their time?’
The sharp question caught her off guard. ‘I must have read a story about them,’ she said, tapping her book, though she couldn’t remember which one. ‘How do you know?’ she asked Nediah.
The man smiled good-naturedly, but another question lurked in his eyes. ‘We belong to a select order. Part of our job is to search out relics of the lost world.’
‘So Acre is real,’ Kyndra murmured to herself. Then, realizing what the man had said, she looked up. ‘There are actually people devoted to finding out about it?’
‘It may seem small compared to the old world, Kyndra, but Mariar is still a very large place. Many others share your interest.’
Although Nediah spoke kindly, the flush returned to Kyndra’s face. She looked down at her knees. Resentment for the Dales flashed through her. Suddenly she hated the inn, the people crowded into it, the small, pointless talk about farms and cattle and bad weather. How she longed, just for a moment, not to be one of them. She wondered where Brégenne and Nediah came from and where they were going.
While the strangers watched her, the noise of the common room rose up around their table. The front door banged against the wall. Kyndra turned to look and a gust of wind lifted the hair off her forehead. Another sodden man stumbled in, quickly swallowed by the crowd.
She looked back at the strangers. They were still silent, still staring. Brégenne hadn’t said anything for a long time.
‘Well.’ Kyndra sought to fill the quiet. ‘I don’t suppose you know why it won’t stop raining?’ She gave a short laugh and quoted, “Water, water, disappear, never bring the Breaking here.”’
Brégenne did not smile. ‘Perhaps you’ve answered your own question.’
‘What?’ Kyndra gaped at her. ‘That’s just a children’s rhyme. And I was joking.’ She tried to suppress that small flicker of superstition.
‘There’s always truth to children’s rhymes,’ the white-eyed woman said. ‘And the Breaking can strike anywhere.’
Kyndra shook her head. ‘Not here.’
‘No one can predict it,’ Nediah said, ‘but excessive rain has long been a warning sign. It might be safest to start moving people out of the town.’
Kyndra glowered at him. ‘Send everyone away who doesn’t live here?’
‘And those who do,’ Brégenne added coolly.
‘You can’t,’ Kyndra snapped. ‘People came here because their own houses were flooded. They’d have nowhere to go. Nor would we!’ Her hands balled into fists on the tabletop. What gave either of these people a right to come here and frighten her town with threats of the Breaking?
‘You don’t understand,’ Brégenne said sharply. ‘If people remain here and ignore the warnings, they could die.’
‘Why are you telling me?’ Kyndra made herself meet the white eyes. ‘If you really believe we’re in danger, why haven’t you told the town elders?’
‘We tried to,’ Nediah said, ‘but they were meeting to discuss a crisis.’ Both strangers studied Kyndra with an intensity that burned. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.
A crash shook the common room. Before Kyndra could turn, a gust of cold air hit her, sweeping Nediah’s goblet off the table. A cry rose up above the sound of breaking glass. The inn’s door bounced against the wall, allowing the rain inside. A woman stood in the entrance, water dripping from her clothes. She wasn’t wearing a coat and mud caked her slippers. Her face was red with cold and tears, but Kyndra recognized it. Tessa was one of her mother’s friends.
The nearest townspeople rushed to her side, but Tessa shouted over their heads, reaching towards a large man sitting at a nearby table. ‘Benj!’ The blacksmith leapt to his feet. ‘Help me – my husband, it’s my husband.’ Tessa gulped and swallowed. ‘He was on the roof, and I told him not to go, I said the leak could be fixed in the morning when people would be around to help, when the rain stopped, but he wouldn’t listen to reason—’
‘Where is he now, Tessa?’ The blacksmith kept his voice slow and clear.
Tessa blinked through a fresh roll of tears. ‘The roof fell in.’
‘Weylan, Drew,’ the blacksmith called. ‘Come with me.’ The two men named jumped from their chairs and followed Benj through the door.
They weren’t the only ones. Most of the inn left their drinks and hurried outside, despite the freezing rain. Kyndra was no exception. As she passed Tessa – in the arms of another woman – she noticed her nails were torn and bleeding. Not only that, but an ugly mark marred her cheek like a spread hand. The sight turned Kyndra cold.
Rain pounded Kyndra’s shoulders, soaking her shirt in seconds. She wrapped her arms around herself and followed the bobbing lanterns that formed havens in a dark sea. The rain became hail. It stung her face, pelting from the sky, as if thrown by some colossal fist. Warmth leaked from her body and the flame in the nearest lamp danced wildly before a gust snuffed it out.
They hurried through the town’s swollen streets. The cobbles were slick beneath Kyndra’s feet and she slipped more than once. With muddy hands, she pushed her fringe out of her eyes, leaving streaks across her forehead.
Faces looked out of windows. Lamps flickered to life in dark rooms and doors creaked open. The people inside reached for coats and boots and then joined the growing crowd. Did they come for Tessa’s husband Fedrin, or just out of curiosity? Kyndra wondered. A silent flash bared the town and thunder arrived a moment later. The houses looked frail beneath the lightning; a toy village ready to be flattened by the wind.
The lanterns were no longer moving, but had congregated in an oily glow some twenty feet in front of her. Another flash of lightning stopped Kyndra in her tracks. A shattered silhouette reared up: a house, its roof gone, the tops of broken walls jagged against the sky.
People gathered around the open door, which, remarkably, was intact. Kyndra caught a glimpse into the rest of the house. It was a mess of broken furniture, beams and plaster. Her boot encountered something soft, a chunk of thatch torn free by the wind.
‘Make way there! Make room!’
Three men staggered out of the front door, carrying a long, coat-wrapped form. They lowered it to the ground and Kyndra recognized Tessa’s husband. Fedrin had taught her how to fish. She remembered sunny days at the stream with Jhren, Colta and the other children, learning how to hold a rod and how to fix the bait.
With a lump in her throat, Kyndra pushed closer.
Fedrin’s hands looked worse than Tessa’s. He’d torn his nails, as if he had tried to use them like claws. An awful wheezing came from his throat and when the next flash arrived, Kyndra saw a trickle of blood oozing from the corner of his mouth. It slid down his neck and soaked into his collar.
The scene grew brighter. There were enough lanterns now to illuminate the people gathered in the street, which looked like most of the town. The townsfolk stared at the devastated house and Kyndra could see her own shock reflected in their faces. Blankets were brought and eased beneath Fedrin. People shouted for Ashley Gigg, the bad-tempered herbalist, who seemed to be the only one not present. Kyndra saw everything through a grey haze. Water poured mercilessly from the sky and there was no shelter for anyone. She scanned the crowd for Reena or Jarand, but saw neither.
Perhaps she noticed the strangers because they lurked at the very edge of the light. They stood close together, whispering furiously. Kyndra watched Nediah point repeatedly at Fedrin. He clutched Brégenne’s hands as if in adjuration, but the woman stood adamant. Kyndra used the cover of the crowd to get nearer. Once on the fringes, she left the shelter of people and hid in the shadows. She was as close as she dared go.
‘Listen to me.’ Brégenne ground out each word, her voice like steel. ‘Naris has remained hidden for five hundred years and it is not for us to choose when and where to uncover its secrets.’
‘I’m not saying we should tell them who we are!’ Nediah flung at her. ‘I’m only asking you to help the man.’
‘And you know very well what it will take for me to do that.’
Nediah did not reply. He stared deeply into the eyes that Kyndra could hardly bear to meet. A long moment passed before he straightened and stepped away. ‘Then I shall do it myself,’ he said, his tone so quiet that Kyndra strained to hear him.
Shock flitted across Brégenne’s face. The anger faded. She stared at Nediah and her expression softened. ‘You know you can’t, Nediah. It’s cold and dark. Where is your sun?’
Kyndra’s heart thundered, a counterpoint to the storm above.
Nediah stood looking into the night. His gaze passed over the wreckage and the townspeople gathered around the man on the blankets. His shoulders slumped and his face fell into shadow. ‘Of course. I’m sorry.’
Brégenne nodded and, smiling, laid her hand on her companion’s arm. Nediah turned away from her and looked directly at Kyndra.
Kyndra didn’t know who was more surprised. She saw Nediah’s eyes widen, his mouth opening …
She dived into the crowd. She’d heard something she shouldn’t have, of that she was certain. She didn’t care to guess whether the strangers were angry. Who were they, knowing what they did about Acre and the Breaking, about a detail as insignificant as the colour of long-perished grapes? Kyndra wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.
She emerged on the far side of the crowd, close to Fedrin. Ashley Gigg hunched over the man, running her hands across his body, lifting a drooping eyelid, listening to his breathing. She straightened from this last act and turned to face the crowd, holding up a hand for quiet. Beneath the thudding of the rain, Kyndra heard the air gurgling in and out of Fedrin’s lungs, wet as the water that threatened to drown them all.
‘This man has seen his last sunrise.’
There were shouts of protest. Ashley wiped her hands on a rag and simply waited until the noise subsided.
‘He has bruises no salve will mend. His lungs are crushed, perhaps further organs are ruptured, I cannot say. The damage is too serious to rectify.’
Tessa let out a wail and collapsed beside Fedrin. Her knees landed in a puddle inches deep, but she ignored the water welling into her lap. ‘Fedrin, oh no, oh please.’ The last two words were meant for Ashley, who shook her head, her expression not without pity. Tessa’s face crumpled and she laid her arms across her husband, burying her face in his chest. Sobs shook her body.
Some of the women hurried over, but seemed unsure how to console her. One laid a hand on her shoulder. Tessa shrugged it off.
Kyndra became aware of the muttering that filled the night. She heard the word Relic hissed more than once and tried to make herself smaller. The muttering grew. Individual voices piped up amid the general unrest. ‘It’s our punishment,’ one man said. ‘The Inheritance is gone. We have broken the Relic entrusted to us.’
‘Aye, it’s the bad luck. We’ll lose an honest man tonight,’ a woman agreed. Kyndra recognized her. She was in her sixties and often came to her mother for the spirits she favoured. Reena disapproved of her addiction, but not of the coin she received in exchange.
More voices joined the dissent. ‘It can’t be a coincidence,’ added a voice Kyndra knew well. It was Colta. Some people turned to look at her. Kyndra’s friend stood tall, a cloak pulled tight across her shoulders, drenched hair framing her face. ‘The day the Relic breaks, a man dies.’
Why was she doing this? What had Jhren said to her? Kyndra felt the first stirrings of panic. Surely Colta wouldn’t tell everyone, wouldn’t betray her. They’d been friends for years. Distantly she heard the town’s elders trying to restore order, but their commands for silence drowned in the tide of discontent that swept through the Dales folk. Where had this anger come from?
Kyndra blinked rain out of her eyes, no longer on the edge of the crowd. They closed up around her and carried her forward as a shocked cry from Tessa rang through the night. Kyndra saw at once what had caused the commotion. Fedrin was sitting up, supported by Benj.
Before Tessa could fling her arms back around her husband, Ashley Gigg seized them. Tessa tried to shake the woman off, but Ashley held on, her knobbly knuckles white on the woman’s sleeves. ‘Wait,’ she hissed.
Unlike the elders’ shouts, Fedrin’s movement effectively silenced the crowd. They pressed in closer, forcing Kyndra with them. There was something strange about the man’s eyes. They were unfocused, as if staring at the space between raindrops. Words bubbled out of his throat. ‘Breaking,’ he said, unmistakably clear. Nobody spoke, though eyes began to fill with unease.
Fedrin’s gaze shifted and he stared directly at Kyndra. ‘You will destroy us all.’
He died then, eyes still fixed on Kyndra. Slowly, as if in a dream, the townspeople turned to follow Fedrin’s final gaze. A circle cleared rapidly around Kyndra. She watched it happen, her mind as frozen as the dead man’s face. She saw accusation in their stares, even fear.
‘That’s her.’ Colta pushed her way through the crowd. ‘She was the one who broke our Relic.’
‘No!’ And Jarand was there, struggling to reach her too. Unlike Colta, he met a wall of arms. ‘No!’ he shouted again. ‘This is madness. It wasn’t her fault!’
‘She broke it,’ Colta said, and there was a coldness in her tone Kyndra had never heard before. She didn’t understand. What could make Colta hate her so much?
Colta came right up to her. ‘I will never know my true name because of you,’ she said, but loudly enough that everyone could hear. ‘Because of you, my calling is hidden from me.’ She leaned in closer, so that her next words fell on Kyndra’s ears alone. ‘Jhren was ready to give you everything.’ Her face contorted, as tears and rain gathered in her eyes. ‘Everything. You don’t deserve him. You never did.’A sob broke from her and she turned, elbowing her way back through the crowd.
‘Colta!’ Kyndra shouted, but the dark-haired girl didn’t look back.
Kyndra swayed, dizzied from the scene. There were torches in the crowd where only lanterns had been before. The noise was rising. ‘Do you deny it?’ someone shouted.
‘No, I—’
A roar rumbled through the people, gaining strength as it swept towards her. ‘I didn’t mean to!’ she cried. ‘I promise I didn’t mean it!’ No one seemed to hear. Jarand screamed her name, but the crowd drowned out his voice.
‘A life for a life!’ It was taken up, chanted, and there was no escape. Kyndra couldn’t focus. Faces she knew, faces which had smiled at her, were c
ontorted with hatred. It could be a nightmare, except for her own panicked heartbeat in her ears. She looked for a way out, but the wall of people stopped her as effectively as it stopped Jarand. They were loath to touch her, though. Their hands pushed at her when she tried to run, but only to keep her penned. The townspeople held her at arm’s length, as if she were a foul thing.
‘She should have been taken instead of Fedrin!’ Tessa’s wild shriek cut through the tide. ‘A life for a life. She destroyed the Relic, destroyed our children’s futures – she’s hidden their true names from them forever!’
‘And do you not believe that is the way it should be?’
Brégenne’s voice boomed in the night like an echo of the thunder. She stood beside Kyndra, hooded, arms spread wide. The crowd blinked at her, stunned into silence.
‘Who are you?’ someone demanded finally. Brégenne turned towards the voice, her white eyes frosty.
‘That is none of your concern. Why are you so ready to persecute this girl?’
‘She destroyed it!’ a man yelled, sharpening the edge of hysteria in the crowd. ‘She brought this doom upon us all. You heard Fedrin. She took away our heritage.’
‘You foolish man. The rain is a warning you have all ignored. The Breaking is here.’
Brégenne’s words drew gasps from the night. Amidst denials and cries of fear, one of the elders shouted, ‘Then it is Reena’s bastard’s doing! Must we all suffer for her crime?’
The insult slammed Kyndra back into her body. At her sides, her hands curled into fists.
‘The Breaking has nothing to do with that,’ Brégenne shouted over the roar caused by the elder’s words. Her icy gaze roamed over everyone gathered. ‘It cannot be stopped or controlled. If you don’t get out of this town, many will perish. Forget this thing you call the Relic. It was recovered from a world you cannot hope to understand.’
‘It was a gift,’ the elder said stoically. Kyndra looked at him. The man’s beard dripped over his chin and his elder’s robes were stained with mud. Still, fervour gleamed in his eyes.
