He studied the clouds as he walked with the same thoughtful expression. “Oh just about everywhere, I suppose. I’ve been to most of the other lands. I fought when and where I was needed to fight.”
She felt her smile grow wider. “So you were a Justicar, then?” Excitement was thick in her voice. She’d heard plenty of stories about Justicars from the Walker children, and the thought that her father had been one, thrilled her. They were noble protectors in all of the stories, dashing knights saving villages and protecting the weak. Her father had stopped at her words, and she gazed up at him with adoration. Her father was tall and strong with hair still dark with no sign of grey. She could easily see him protecting the weak. Her father must have been the best of all of the Justicars.
“Where did you hear about Justicars?” he asked. His tone was not one she was familiar with. He didn’t seem upset, or unhappy. It was guarded, almost cautious sounding. He was looking down at her with little to no hint of his usual grin on his face.
Her enthusiasm died a bit, and she answered quietly. “From Nathan Walker. He was telling stories about the troubles in the South near the capital. He said everything was a mess until the Justicars sorted it out.” Of course, there had been more than just the most recent story, but she wasn’t sure about her Father’s mood right now, and unlike his words earlier, the simplest answer did seem the best to her.
He nodded slowly. “Nathan does like his stories. But you must remember life is not like stories. Things may seem beautiful when you hear about them, but once you see them the truth is not so pretty.” He started walking again by now they were almost to the porch. “And no, Jala, I was never a Justicar. Not even close to being a Justicar. Run on ahead and see if breakfast is ready while I strain the milk,” he asked. She nodded to him and ran on ahead, not missing the fact that her father was staring off toward the south.
Her mother was setting the table as she entered the house. The delectable scent of fresh bacon and gravy made her mouth water. Watching her mother closely, Jala crept toward the table with her violet eyes fixed on the stack of biscuits.
“Wash your hands,” her mother directed without even a glance up. Jala hurried to the basin and hastily scrubbed her hands clean. She hadn’t really thought them dirty. All she had done was to lead a cow and pet a horse, but mother was particular about such things and it didn’t pay to argue. She dried them quickly and found her seat at the table. “Wait for your father,” her mother added needlessly. She sighed and fidgeted and watched the door for her father. By the time the door finally creaked open, she was sure she was about to fall over from starvation. He crossed the room and set the cream bowl and the milk pail down, before giving her mother a kiss. He cast a smile at Jala and ruffled Jacob’s hair as he took his own seat. Jala felt a nudge by her leg, and glanced down to see Cap looking up to her hopefully. She grinned and ruffled his head, the same as her father had Jacob’s, then found herself glancing quickly at her mother. If she had noticed Jala touching Cap, she would make her wash her hands again.
“Looks good, Maggie,” he said as he surveyed the piled biscuits and gravy. Her mother smiled and sat down as well. Jala watched them a moment. It often amazed her how mother could seem so serious, but a few words from father could make her expression soften so much.
“Just simple fare,” she replied, and began piling food onto the plates. She had braided her hair up into a tidy bun, and her dress looked freshly pressed. Jala ran a hand through her own wild curls and frowned. She should have braided it before she came down. That would have pleased mother. Her mother always looked tidy, no matter what time of day. She was always neat and pretty.
“The Walker boys are coming over to finish plowing the north field this morning. I expect they will be here within the hour,” her father began, pausing only long enough to pour himself another cup of the hot, bitter tea he liked so much. Jala wrinkled her nose at the smell of it and took a sip from her own cider. “I asked them to bring Becka along to give you some help in the garden.” He finished and began to eat his breakfast.
Mother looked to Jala then back to her father. “Becka would be fine help, but I have Jala to help me. Surely Becka’s own mother could use her help.”
“The Walkers have more children than I do cows. Half the time I wonder how they feed them all. I’m sure Lacey will have plenty of help in her garden and Becka will earn a few coins by helping in ours. Besides, she is twelve. She will be more help than Jala.” Jala kept her eyes on both parents as she ate. Her mother had an eyebrow arched, and her father had that slight grin that showed he knew he was going to get his way.
“Jala will need to learn how to garden, or her family will starve. Remember the first year we settled out here. Half my plants died and we had to buy most of our food. By spring, we could barely afford more seed. I wouldn’t wish that on my daughter.”
“Jala is only seven with plenty of time to learn,” her father countered smoothly.
She felt the nudge at her leg again and slipped Cap a thick piece of bacon; sure neither parent would notice. Taking another bite of food, she sat back and watched as her father smoothly guided the conversation.
“I won’t have time to watch her, better that she helps me, so I know she isn’t getting into mischief,” her mother said mildly. She had recognized the direction of this talk by now, and her objections seemed halfhearted.
Her father looked shocked at the words, his expression almost comical. Jala repressed a giggle and fed another piece of bacon to Cap. “Jala? Mischief? Why I don’t believe the two have ever met.” He raised an eyebrow at Jala and gave her a grin.
Her mother repressed her own grin and shook her head. “Of course not. Not your sweet, innocent Jala.”
“Indeed not. My Jala couldn’t do any wrong.” He leaned over and gave her mother a light kiss on the cheek. “I will be taking her with me to check the cows. Surely Mischief won’t find her if she is with me.”
Her mother did laugh then. “No doubt, it knows you far better. Why stop at a child when it can visit an old friend.” She gave another sigh, her smile still showing. “You do realize you have a daughter, right?” She asked with another shake of her head. “You treat her more as a boy. Look at her patched trousers, oversized shirt, and wild hair.”
“Aye, Maggie, I know she is a girl, and I know I’m working on limited time here. Soon enough she will be all braids and ribbons and afraid of dirt. Her concerns will be of young boys and new dresses. Keeping her poor old father company while he checks the family cows will be her last thought. Let me have the few years of her childhood I have left, please.” He looked at her with exaggerated pleading and sipped from his tea in time to hide the wide smile. His eyes danced merrily over the brim at her mother who was laughing softly again.
“Over played that a bit, didn’t you?” She asked through her laugh. “You poor old withered thing, I suppose you can take your daughter out before she turns on you completely. I think she is going to wear the hide off that poor pony though. She’s been riding him more than walking since you gave him to her.”
“He’s a horse, not a pony,” Jala objected quietly. Her father grinned wider, and her mother simply rolled her eyes.
“I’ll saddle Blackjack for her and she can ride about the yard a bit while I get them started on the plowing, then we will be off and should be back by late afternoon,” he stated.
Her mother frowned slightly. “I don’t like her riding by herself yet, Toby. She is still so little. Wait on the saddling until you are back and she can help me pack a lunch for the two of you. If you are going to be out till late afternoon, you will need it.”
“She’ll be fine. That pony wouldn’t spook if you tied a snake to his bridle. Jala has good balance, too. We shouldn’t need much of a lunch. Some dried meat and cheese should do fine. I can fix that myself before we leave out. No need to trouble yourself.”
“Horse, not a pony,” Jala objected once again. A pony was short and stubby, and while Blackjack
was smaller, he certainly wasn’t stubby.
Both of her parents once again ignored the objection, and she sighed. She slipped another piece of bacon to Cap and watched her mother wipe Jacob’s face free of the newest batch of slobber.
“Jala, that’s the third piece of bacon I’ve seen you feed that dog. One more and he will be banned from the house.” Her mother didn’t even look up from the baby as she spoke and Jala froze.
Her father gave a chuckle and pushed his chair out. “Com’on, Curly, let’s get that pony saddled.” Jala hopped out of her chair quickly and raced out the door before her mother could voice another objection. Cap ran lazily along beside her, nearly tripping her twice. She could hear her parents still talking behind her, but didn’t pay attention to the words. Just as he said he would, her father had handled Mother’s objections nicely. He always did as he said he would. She wasn’t too sure about his arguments, though. She couldn’t imagine ever being the girl he described. How could dresses ever be better than trousers? You couldn’t climb in dresses.
“Now I told your mother you wouldn’t go past the brook until you were with me,” her father said as he sat her carefully into the saddle. Buck stood saddled and waiting restlessly nearby, and she could see the boys on the road riding toward the house. She wouldn’t have long to wait before he was ready to go and she tried hard to hide her excitement. This would be the first time she had gone out with him on her own horse.
“I won’t,” she agreed, readily taking the reins up in her hands. On a normal day, she would object to not being able to leave the yard, but she wasn’t about to do anything wrong this morning. Her being able to ride all day, well away from the house, more than made up for not being able to leave the yard for the short while she had to wait.
“Shouldn’t take me more than an hour to get them started and then we will be off. Keep yourself out of trouble till then and don’t go past the brook,” he repeated with a smile.
She smiled back at him and nodded, watching him swing onto Buck and ride off to meet the boys. She gave a sharp whistle to Cap and turned her horse toward the yard. She had no interest in seeing the Walker boys or Becka. The boys tended to tease her, and Becka never had anything important to say.
Mother was just setting Jacob down near the garden patch as she rounded the house. Smiling she waved happily to her.
“Not past the brook, young lady,” her mother called out. Jala nodded back in response. She eased Blackjack into a trot and took a few turns around the yard, occasionally glancing up to watch either her mother talking with Becka or her father hitching the huge team of draft horses. She was getting bored quickly, and father hadn’t even taken the team up to the field yet. She looked around the yard trying to devise some game to keep herself busy and out of trouble and her gaze stopped on the large tree near the brook. It wasn’t past the brook; it was right at the edge. Her eyes climbed the branches and landed solidly on the thick, dark fruits hanging heavily on the branches.
With a gentle nudge, she urged Blackjack beneath the tree. She could smell the scent of the fruit now, rich and sweet, and too good to ignore. She judged the distance to the lowest branch carefully. If she stood in the saddle, she could reach it and then pull herself up. It was still early spring, but there was a chance a few of the Jimpa would be ripe enough to pick. The peaches and plums were still a good month away from harvest, but Jimpa ripened fast and was nearly as sweet as candy.
The thought of finding enough to take with them, spurred her on, and she stood carefully in the saddle and stretched until she felt her fingers brush the branch. With a dexterity that would make a monkey jealous, she pulled herself into the tree and began climbing her way to the upper branches where the thickest of the fruit hung. She glanced back down the tree to see Blackjack daintily nibbling on the grass below the tree, exactly where she had left him. She smiled and began checking the fruit for ripened ones. It would be a simple matter to drop back down into her saddle once she was done and then she could surprise Father with the treat. She looked up toward the north field to see Father riding Buck up the hill, while the boys led the draft horses and plow behind him at a much slower pace. That gave her about twenty minutes to find the fruit and be back down in the saddle before anyone even noticed she was in the tree. There was plenty of time as far as she figured.
She had found three ripened enough to pick when she heard Cap give a sharp bark below the tree. It was followed by another, more urgent bark. She looked down to see her dog staring toward the south. Blackjack gave a snort and his small ears pinned back. She nearly dropped the fruit in shock as the horse gave another snort and bolted running hard toward the north. In utter bewilderment, she watched him run and looked back down at Cap who was whining pitifully. She followed his stare toward the south and watched in complete confusion as a black cloud covered the entire southern horizon. It billowed and ebbed almost seeming to pulse with life. She heard a cry of alarm from behind her and turned her gaze back to see her mother staring after the quickly disappearing form of Blackjack.
“Jala!” Her mother cried out frantically. Her hands were clenched in her apron tightly while her eyes searched the yard.
“I’m here, Mother,” she called back. Her mother’s confusion quickly turned to fear. Cap gave another sharp bark and her mother’s searching eyes found her. Instead of the anger she had expected, she saw relief and fear written on her mother’s features. If anything, that scared her more. She looked frantically toward the north field, and saw her father racing back toward the house. Buck was stretched out in a full run, the fastest she had ever seen the horse move. The sky above her began to darken, and she heard herself cry out in fear.
The entire world began to slow. Jala saw her mother running toward her with outstretched arms, beckoning Jala down from the tree. Behind her, she could see Becka rushing back into the house with the wailing baby clutched tightly in her arms. Her dog was barking frantically below. She heard the thundering hoof beats of her father’s racing horse. It all faded a bit. The air about her seemed alive and grasping, and the sky continued to darken. She felt a sharp pain on her chest, and looked down to see the amulet glowing brightly as the entire world crashed back into full speed.
The sky gave a deafening roar louder than any thunder she had ever heard and then a bright flash blinded her to the surrounding world. She felt a moment of vertigo and realized she was falling, with a cry of alarm as she twisted to land on her back. The ground seized her roughly, and she felt the wind knocked out of her. She was still blinded from the flash her eyes refusing to focus. The area around her was as silent as death.
She blinked, willing her eyes to work and felt tears welling up. She wasn’t hurt from the fall; perhaps a few bruises but nothing more. It wasn’t pain that brought the tears; it was fear. Her mother should have reached her by now. She should hear her father’s horse. There shouldn’t be this silence. The world should be chaos right now, not still and utterly silent. A sob burst from her throat and the noise filled the void as loudly as the thunderclap had a moment before. There was no answer to her cry. Her mother didn’t gather her up as she was supposed to. Her father wasn’t there as he should have been.
The world around her slowly came back into focus, and she didn’t recognize any of it. Everything was black. The house was gone, the yard, the tree she had been in a moment ago, all of it, gone. The ground around her was covered in ash, a thick layer of it, with more falling from the sky like grey snow. She stood slowly on shaking legs and scanned the area around her frantically. Vast, black, and empty. No sign of her mother or her father or even Cap. It was all simply gone. Her mind labored to digest what her eyes were seeing. Light filled the sky once again, followed by a heavy rumbling that actually sounded like thunder this time. Rain began to pelt down over her. She knew she should find shelter, but there was nothing. She felt herself begin to tremble from both fear and chill due to the icy rain. Too cold for this late in the spring. She scanned the horizon again, pleading wit
h any of the gods that would listen, to see her father. “Daddy!” she called into the pitch, her voice quavering loudly. A low rumble of thunder was her only answer. “Momma!” she called, her voice more frantic. She strained her ears for anything, a bark from Cap, a yell from her father. Desperate, she called again. “Momma! Daddy!” Another sob burst from her chest and her tears ran down her cheeks as much as the icy rain.
She stood for what seemed like hours sobbing and staring, and feeling all hope drain away. She was alone, and she didn’t even know what had happened. There had been a flash and then this. How could an entire world just vanish? Maybe she had been taken instead. It made more sense to think she had been stolen by magic, than her entire world had been stolen. Easier to believe she had been whisked off. Her mind froze. Whisked off, to where? She looked around again at the bleak, empty landscape covered in ash. She sniffled heavily again. In all of the stories she had ever heard at the hearth, from her father or from the Walker boys, the only place this reminded her of was the Darklands. Father said those who are dark and cruel of heart went to the Darklands when they were dead. The Walker boys said demons roamed the Darklands tormenting the souls of the damned.
She felt herself tremble again. She wasn’t dead, though, and she wasn’t dark of heart. She might be dead if she had fallen wrong and landed on her head or neck. She didn’t feel dead, but then she didn’t really know how death felt. She shook her head in dismay and sought her mind frantically for another reason. She wasn’t dead she decided firmly. And if this was the Darklands, Father would come and get her and fix everything. He always fixed everything. And he had been a soldier. He had said so. So no demons would stop him. He would cut them down and ride up any minute. All she had to do was wait.
She sat down and tried to ignore the icy rain, and forced herself to be brave. That itself was getting harder to do. She couldn’t remember ever being so scared, and no nightmare she had ever had was half as frightening as this. She couldn’t remember ever being alone before. Even at night, she had Cap with her. He was trying to warn me, she realized with a sniffle. Blackjack had run, but Cap had stayed and tried to warn her. She felt tears grow heavy in her eyes again and bit her lower lip.
The Elder Blood Chronicles Bk 1 In Shades of Grey Page 3
