Brier nodded and stared out of the window, anger rumbling like a thunderhead through him. He’d done everything they asked of him. Sacrificed. Forced himself to be with her even though it felt as though her mere touch tainted him. Soiled him. He suppressed a shiver.
They rode in silence and Brier was lost in his thoughts. His days pained him. It was agonising to wait for death. At times he’d wished Heran had never come to him. That he’d never accepted the bargain. He knew of course that the alternative would have been infinitely worse. Once he’d found out what awaited him on the other side… he didn’t have a choice.
The coachman stopped the carriage in front of the library. Brier opened the door and a young girl – no more than fourteen years old – scrambled into the carriage. Her face paled when she saw Khaya’s unconscious form. “Is she –”
“No, she lives,” Brier said. “Can you stop her from using her abilities?”
“Abilities?” she said, mouth agape. “As in more than one?”
“Yes. Can you?”
The girl gazed at Khaya, her head cocked to one side, her mouth pulling in at the corners. “Yes.”
“You are certain?”
The girl nodded.
“Then make sure you hold her abilities bound from now on. Don’t make the mistake of underestimating her. She can kill us all without lifting a finger.”
The girl’s pale face turned green and she swallowed.
“What’s your name?” Brier said, feeling sorry for the child.
She pulled her eyes away from Khaya. “Yarissa.”
“As long as you bind her, Yarissa, all will be well. Do not fear.”
She nodded, but still looked terrified. Brier knocked on the hatch to the driver and the carriage swung in to motion again. Brier relayed the directions to the mansion to the coachman as Heran instructed him.
Khaya groaned, her brow creasing. “See, Yarissa, she’s fine.”
“Brier?” Khaya asked. “How could you?”
“What? Pretend to love you? With difficulty.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because you are living a stolen life. Your entire existence is an abomination. It should never have been."
After a pause he added, “You should have died long ago.”
Chapter Twenty Two
Bargaining with the Enemy
Khaya held her head. She felt each bump in the road as a hammer strike against an anvil. She was still trying to use her Insight. She couldn’t feel it at all. Could they have taken her abilities away for ever? The loss hit her like a wave. Why wasn’t she happy? Isn’t this what she’d hoped for? Hadn’t her abilities been more of a curse than a blessing?
Yet, for some reason, the loss threatened to crush her. She squeezed her eyes shut. It wasn’t possible. She had to believe that. She pushed the rising tide of panic down and took a shuddering breath.
There was a woman in the coach with them, Brier had spoken to her. It had to be her. Khaya seethed. She should have killed Brier when she’d had the chance. He refused to explain what he’d meant by saying she should have died. Try as she might to drag it out of him.
She cursed herself. She should have trusted Derrin. She should have waited for him in the forest. “You know, you can remove the blindfold,” Khaya snapped. “It wouldn’t have stopped me from using my abilities anyway.”
“I think not,” Brier said. “The location of the Echelon is not for you to know.”
“The Echelon? You’re taking me to the Company’s leaders?”
Brier barked a laugh. “That’s perhaps who they once were, but not any more.”
“What do you mean?”
“They are far more than the leaders of the Company. You are about to be in the presence of the Order of Collectors.”
Khaya inhaled sharply. She quickly schooled her face to hide her shock. She could use this to her advantage. She didn’t want to run for the rest of her life. To hide. Live each day looking over her shoulder, waiting for someone to kill her in the night. She could confront them. Find a way to argue for her life. At least it would put an end to it.
The carriage pulled up and Brier removed Khaya’s blindfold. It was full dark and they were in front of a mansion. The sandstone pillars reminded Khaya of soldiers standing at attention. Guarding those within. And keeping others out.
A woman stood on the wooden terrace outside the tall arched door. Lanterns hung to the side of the door and cast a soft glow over her. She had long red hair which hung in a thick braid over her right shoulder. She had milky-white skin and her thin nose and narrow eyes gave her a sharp look. Her long silver gown was fitted at the bodice with a flowing, loose skirt that hung to her ankles.
Heran pulled at Khaya’s arm and pushed her towards the carriage door. Yarissa was young. Her auburn hair was short and she wore a heavy fringe that hung like a curtain across her forehead. Her thin lips were pursed and her eyes fearful. She looked at Khaya as though Khaya might attempt to kill her with her bare hands at any moment.
The girl squirmed under Khaya’s scrutiny and wiped her hands down her brown dress. It was unfortunate that she seemed fearful. Fear would make her careful. It would make escaping her bonds harder. Escape, she would, though. Somehow.
Brier’s forceful hand on her back steered her to the house. A sweeping marble staircase dominated the entrance hall. Brier guided Khaya past it to a small room behind the stairs. He gave her a final shove and shut the door behind her. There was a click as he locked the door.
It was pitch black inside with only a small window near the ceiling letting in a trickle of moonlight. She felt her way along to a cot, barely wide enough to lie on. The room smelled mouldy with a hint of sweat.
Khaya sat on the edge of the bed for some time before realising they were leaving her there for the night. She lay down and realised the thin blanket was the source of the mouldy smell. With a grimace she pulled it off and let it fall to the ground.
Lying back down, she closed her eyes. She had the feeling that she would need to have some rest to prepare for the day that was to follow.
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
Brier was up before dawn. He hoped this would be the day he had been working towards for the last year. Surely, this was a formality. The Order would sentence Khaya and someone, perhaps even Brier himself, would be commanded to end her life. He imagined the moment as he walked through the gardens, a small smile playing on his lips.
Heran appeared next to him. Brier didn’t jump. He was used to the unexpected appearances. “The Order will see Khaya soon.”
“Do you want me to fetch her? Ready her to appear before them?”
“No. You will not be present during the meeting.”
Brier gaped. “Why?”
Heran struck him in the head, sending him staggering. “I told you, it is not for you to question the Order. Remember your place.”
Brier clapped a hand to his cheek, shock painted across his face. Heran fixed him with a glare until he nodded and apologised.
“My fellows won’t be as lenient with you. If you wish to keep your bargain intact, you will show your betters the respect becoming their station.”
Heran vanished and Brier swore. He hated the feeling of not being in control of his fate. Until he was granted the station of Collector he would have to bow and scrape to them. Even so, he wasn’t going to let them leave him out of this meeting.
With a determined step, he walked back into the mansion.
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
Faint light filtered through the small window of her prison. A little after dawn, then. Khaya stretched. The cot was exceedingly uncomfortable. Her head pounded and when she rubbed it, she realised her hair was tangled and matted with dried blood. She winced as she touched her head.
A chamber pot was underneath the cot. She supposed she should be glad that it was at least clean. It seemed to be the only thing in the room that was clean.
She said a silent prayer of thanks that she had cast t
he blanket aside. It was covered in brown and red stains. She didn’t even want to know what they were.
She had dreamt of Derrin. He was standing in a cavernous room. She could not remember what had been said, but she had sensed that he was being judged. Abruptly, she knew this hadn’t been a dream. It was the foretelling she’d had of him. She’d never seen him scared but standing before those five on the daises, he’d been terrified. She tried to scrub the image from her mind, but it stayed with her. Today it would be her turn to help him escape. She wasn’t sure if it was possible, but she would try.
She realised that her abilities weren’t bound. Hope surged within her. Maybe she could unlock the door with it. She probed the lock with her Insight. She saw the locking mechanism. If she could turn it, just so.
A click.
She grinned and inched the door open, trying to stop it from squeaking. Once the door was ajar she peeked out. A grim-faced Yarissa stood in front of her and something akin to a fog descended over Khaya.
Knowing it was futile, she still reached with her Insight. It was useless. She barely stopped herself from sinking to her knees in despair. The red-haired woman stood behind Yarissa. Her face was serene, her hands clasped behind her back. Her blue gown shimmered in the sunlight filtering in through the bay windows.
Yarissa stepped aside and the redhead said, “You are to meet with the Order. But you cannot meet them like this.” She gestured with a hand towards Khaya, her nose wrinkling. “Come, I’ve had the servants prepare a warm bath for you.”
Khaya raised an eyebrow at that. “I don’t want a bath.” In any other circumstances, she would have jumped at the opportunity to soak off the last few days' dirt – and blood – that clung to her. She was sure she smelled much riper than she realised. But the thought of putting herself in such a vulnerable position made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.
“You, my dear, are in need of a bath. Now, no arguments. This can be pleasant if you let it.” She turned and strode ahead up the sweeping marble staircase.
Two guards that Khaya hadn’t even noticed stepped up beside her, taking her by the arms and ushering her along. She shrugged to get out from under their hands, but the burly men didn’t let go. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Yarissa following a short distance behind. Maybe it meant the girl had to be fairly close for her ability to work. As far as Khaya had seen, she didn’t contribute in any other way. She’d have to test that.
Up two flights of stairs and down a long gloomy hallway. A scrawny man skittered past them, going in the opposite direction. A servant?
They came to a room with a stone bathtub. It stood off the ground, resting on four clawed feet. Steaming water filled the tub. There was nothing else in the room apart from a divan, soft pillows lining its back, and a washbasin. A whole room dedicated to a bathtub! She felt sorry for whoever had to carry bucket after bucket of water up those stairs.
One wall was made up mostly of a window, offering views over the landscaped garden surrounding the mansion and stretching far over the surrounding woods. It was breathtaking and the bath was enticing. Khaya had to remind herself that she was still in danger here.
Why were they bothering letting her bath before killing her? Why hadn’t they killed her already?
The woman waved the guards away. Yarissa stepped inside the room and stood just in front of the closed door. The redhead sauntered over to it and locked it, then slipped the key into a pocket in her dress. She sat down on the divan, her dress spreading out about her. “Well, you don’t want the water to get cold.” When Khaya hesitated, she continued, “Come now, there is no need to be shy. It’s just us women.”
Khaya glanced at Yarissa who had taken a seat by the window and was staring out. Trying not to show her discomfort, she undressed and slipped into the bath. The warm water was glorious. Against her better wisdom, she sank back in the tub, the tension seeming to leach from her body. For a moment, she forgot where she was and why. She closed her eyes and let her head slip under the water.
“Amazing what a warm bath can do for the soul, isn’t it?” the woman said as Khaya sat back up.
Her voice dragged Khaya back to reality, her eyes snapping open. “Who are you?” She seemed somehow familiar, although Khaya was quite sure they had never met before.
“My name is Garelle.”
“Who are you, Garelle?”
Garelle gave a small smile. “I am a Collector. Second to the Highest.”
Khaya sat up in the bath. That was the last thing she’d expected. Second to the Highest? “How… why can I see you?”
Garelle pursed her dark pink lips. “Now that would be telling secrets.”
“What do you want?”
“Want? I want you to understand.”
Khaya gritted her teeth, swallowing her annoyance. “Understand what?”
“That you are going to be offered an opportunity for redemption today. You need to take it. Embrace it. It is your only chance at a happy life.”
A hundred questions ran through Khaya’s head. She stamped on the flicker of hope that threatened to take aflame in her heart. “Why redemption?” Khaya asked, glad her voice sounded steady. “What have I done?”
“It’s simple. You lived.”
Khaya frowned, no longer able to contain her irritation. “Stop speaking in halves. What do you mean by that?”
For the briefest moment, something dangerous glinted in Garelle’s eyes. It was gone so quickly that Khaya wondered if she’d imagined it. Garelle stood and strolled over to the tub. Khaya flinched as the Collector reached a hand towards her head. She traced the scar on Khaya’s forehead. “Do you know how you got that, girl?”
“I fell from a tree when I was little. I hit my head on a branch on my way down. I think I might have died if I hadn’t struck that branch.”
Khaya jerked at the bubble of laughter from Garelle. “How close to the truth and yet so far way.” The Collector walked to the window and stood with her back to Khaya, her hands clasped behind her. “So he didn’t tell you.”
“Who didn’t tell me what?”
“Did Derrin at least explain to you what he is?”
“Yes,” Khaya said, swallowing. Where was this going? “He said Collectors are angels of death.”
“I never liked that name,” Garelle said, walking back to the divan. She sat down. “That fall should have killed you. If not the blow to the head, then the final crash should have. Maybe it did. For a short time.”
Khaya wanted to scream at the infuriating woman to make sense. She forced herself to remain quiet even though her heart was pounding. Garelle couldn’t be implying what Khaya thought she was.
“Derrin was the Collector sent to assist your soul in its transition to the ever after. Children are always more… difficult. At least the first one you have to do. I understand Derrin, I really do. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t condone what he did. By eternity, I don’t even know how he did it.” She shook her head. “He spared you.”
“I don’t understand,” Khaya said. “I thought Collectors only gathered your soul.”
“Indeed. As I said, we were never able to establish how he did it. He was sent to collect your soul, but he broke our first law: No interference.”
“So, you’ve been trying to kill me because I was meant to die when I was five years old?”
“We have been trying to undo his mistake.”
“I’m a mistake?”
“Not you. Your life.”
Garelle was so flippant. Couldn't she appreciate that they were talking about… well, her life!
“So,” Garelle continued, “now you realise why he was helping you, don’t you?”
When she didn’t respond, Garelle elaborated. “He's been acting out of a sense of guilt. He admitted to his guilt at his hearing. Admitted he did wrong, that he cursed you with a life that was not meant to be.”
“He said it was a mistake?” Khaya didn’t believe it. He wouldn’t have said that.
“Of course he did. He was one of our best Collectors up until that day. He knew what we stood for, he upheld our sacred vows. He would’ve one day become a Master of the Order.” She shook her head, a perplexed frown creasing her brow.
Khaya hardly noticed. Derrin told her that he didn’t regret what he did. At the time, she hadn’t known what he was referring to. Now she knew he’d been lying. You don’t say you did wrong without regretting it. Well, not if you were a decent person.
Had he been helping her out of guilt? Clearly, he felt responsible for what was happening to her. She was his mistake. She pursed her lips. He never cared about her. She was a fool.
“Derrin was in a moral predicament,” Garelle continued, apparently unaware of Khaya’s turmoil. “On the one hand, he knew he should never have saved you. On the other, having spared your life, he felt responsible for it.” She shrugged. “He should have known that once we’d found you there was only one possible outcome.”
“So, since the day of my accident, you, the Collectors, have wanted me dead. How is it that I have managed to live unhindered for so long?”
“It was a unprecedented situation. We didn’t initially all agree on what needed to be done. After all,” she held up a finger, “law number one: no interference. But how do we correct his error without interfering?”
“You seem to have no such qualms now.”
“The decision was taken mere months after that fateful day. But somehow, when we searched for you, you’d disappeared, leaving no trace. Our usual methods of locating humans failed us. We’d lost you. Lost our chance at restoring order.”
“Was it gaining my second ability that alerted you to my whereabouts?”
She laughed, a tinkling sound. “A mere coincidence led us to you. We track humans by their auras. A Collector simply spotted that your aura was unnatural – in flux. We put two and two together after that.”
There was silence for a while as Khaya mulled over all of it. “Why am I still alive?” she asked eventually.
Riddle of Fate Page 15
