by C. Ellsworth
From the darkness came the skeg’s defiant cry, echoing off walls that couldn’t have been more than a few feet away in any direction. The clang of steel followed, crashing against wood that sent chips skipping across the floor, by the sound of it. Furious and pained wails from the storm echoed in tandem with the ring of the blade. The skeg was hurting it! He was hurting the storm! Or . . . the corpses within it, at least.
Addy raised herself to a sitting position, gasping in pain as she slid backward on the floor until her back came to rest against a wall. Her eyes had grown somewhat accustomed to the dim light now, but there was nothing to see but dark shadows moving against a dark background.
There came another clang of steel. The skeg was still fighting. Lord of Light, help him! He was the only thing standing against her and those . . . things!
The hollow thump of something striking the floor was the only warning before the room exploded with light. Addy shielded her eyes and blinked until she could look on without discomfort. A small sphere about the size of her fist rolled toward her across the floor, its center glowing white with the brilliance of a dozen candles.
The inside of the small house was visible now, and, just a pace away, the skeg was fighting desperately to drop the door brace down while swinging his sword at the clawed hands trying to force their way in. Addy made to move, to stand, but with a final determined roar, the skeg threw his full weight against the door, slamming it shut. Then the thick wooden beam dropped into place.
He took a step back, breathing heavily. One of his curved swords was still in hand as he eyed the violently rattling door. The shuttered window to his left was rattling as well, but it, too, seemed to be keeping the specters at bay. At least for the moment.
Outside, the frenzied howls continued. Outside and not in her head, thank the Light.
The skeg turned and regarded her with face now bared, brow furrowed above a hawkish nose. He bore a red gash on his pale cheek that oozed blood. One of those things had gotten lucky. It was the only sign on him, though, of what they had just been through. His black, flowing garb was otherwise untouched. Addy’s dress, on the other hand, had been torn in several places, and more than one painful scratch adorned her skin.
The skeg’s pale eyes bored into her for a moment. Then he stepped forward and knelt down at her feet, his hand reaching toward her face. Addy flinched, but the skeg took a firm hold of her by the shoulders, inspecting her as he turned her body this way and that.
Addy squirmed, trying to twist away from the skeg’s groping hands. He prodded at a nasty scratch on her leg, then one on her arm. Then, after a pause, he stood and took a step back, watching. What did he want with her?
The skeg regarded her for another moment before he gave a soft grunt and turned away, walking then to slump heavily against the adjacent wall. He continued to cast glances at her, though, when he wasn’t eyeing the door and window as they continued to rattle and shake against the storm-born apparitions.
Addy began to gather her torn dress, hands trembling, and the skeg’s pale eyes turned back to watch. But she wouldn’t let him catch a glimpse of her bared legs if she could help it. She curled in on herself and closed her eyes, letting the tears roll down her cheeks to fall onto her chest.
Voices. . . .
Voices shouted in the distance. Addy drifted into focus, her forehead resting on her knees. Was that her name she had heard? She raised her head slowly, squinting against the sunlight that beamed now through the opened shutters. The storm was over, finally. And she was alive. Maybe there was still a—
The skeg appeared at her side, dragging her off the floor by the arm. Every muscle in her body ached in protest, and a small cry escaped her lips. An instant later, a black-gloved hand clamped over her mouth, and then the skeg dragged her to the window, where he peered out into the alleyway. His icy eyes darted this way and that from inside the narrow opening in his garb.
From a distance much closer now, Addy heard a second shout. “Addy!”
Papa! She tried to wrench her arm free, but the skeg held fast. She screamed, but only a muffled cry managed to get out through the skeg’s fingers. She kicked his shin and bit at his fingers, but it was no use. Papa was out there, close by, and she had no way to let him know she was there! Help me, Papa! I’m here!
She blinked. Of course! Think of Mama. Think about the song! Her mouth was covered, but she could still hum the tune. She had to focus on the tune!
The song resonated in her throat, out her nostrils. The skeg glanced at her curiously, but turned back to stare outside. She continued to hum, but nothing was happening. This had to work! Why was it so—
Something . . . clicked or sparked inside. It was familiar, like the warmth of the sun after stepping outside. It was a connection to something, a source of energy that coursed through every inch of her. That power filled her, filled her completely. Her skin tingled with energy. What now? She had never tried to focus that energy on anything before, and that usually resulted in exploding pottery or water that boiled instantly into to a cloud of steam.
The door! Could she make it rattle, perhaps even open and close? Focus! She fixed her eyes.
The door did rattle a little, and the shutters as well. Then there was a loud boom and an explosion that sent shards of wood flying in all directions. The force threw her backward to crash to the floor, ears ringing from the deafening sound, and little flashing lights dotted her vision. The skeg. Where was he? He appeared again at her side, shaking his head as if trying to clear away the effects of the blast. And there was rage in his eyes.
He grabbed her by the back of the dress. “Fool girl!” So he did speak their language! The way he spoke was odd, with the R rolling slightly, but Addy still understood. He dragged her back to the doorway, where the door stood no longer, and he peered out with narrowed eyes.
Shouts of “Over here!” and “This way!” and “Adele!” echoed from outside, the last voice sounding like Papa’s. She hurt from head to toe, slivers of wood dotting her skin like quills on a porcupuss. Red claw marks, some still bleeding, decorated what space was left between. But they were coming for her! She was going to be saved!
Her head abruptly swam, and the world spun around her. Her limbs turned to jelly.
The skeg gave her a shake, and things came into focus again. He barked a few words in that odd language and then shoved her face down to the ground, straddling her legs to keep her restrained. What was he doing? She felt a brief but violent tug on the back of her dress, and the fabric tore away. Out of the corner of her eye came the flash of a dagger, and then pain, excruciating pain! She sucked in a breath that might just be her last. And then she screamed.
Darkness folded in around her.
Chapter 4
Addy blinked. The ringing in her ears was head-splitting, and all other sound came to her as if through water. Was that people shouting her name? They seemed so far away. Papa . . . ? I’m here, Papa!
She lay amid the debris of shattered door, bleeding from a dozen wounds where wooden shards pierced her skin. Her shoulder throbbed, and her head spun. What had happened? She had to get up. She had to let people know where she was, but her body refused to respond beyond the smallest movements. Her eyes drifted closed.
No! She jerked, forcing her eyes open. The small space was sitting empty now, except for the wooden remains that lay strewn about. Where was the skeg? Tower’s luck, he’d run straight into a search party, and that would be the end of him.
She dragged herself up to her knees, but her arms and legs wobbled, and she collapsed back to the floor with a pained groan. If only the dizziness would subside. “I can’t. Papa . . .”
The calls came again from outside, sounding farther away this time. Pushing with all her might, grunting from the pain and effort, she managed to raise herself again, first to her knees, then slowly to her feet. She staggered toward the doorway, nearly losing her balance twice. Her vision blurred, the floor beneath her seemed to tilt, and her ear
s still rung with the sound of a hundred bells.
Reaching the doorway, she all but fell against the broken frame. The darkness drew in on her. No! I have to stay awake! She slumped to the floor, her back against the broken door frame, sucking in breath through clenched teeth. It wasn’t just the floor that shifted now; it was the entire world around her, twisting and spinning. She filled her lungs to capacity and let out a long cry. “Papaaaaa!” Her vision darkened further at the effort.
There was no answer, no one calling her name, just the soft sound of a light wind as it blew through the empty alleyway. It was useless. She may as well have been in the middle of the Waste.
Addy’s head slumped forward, chin on her chest, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She was alone, and she would die here without seeing Papa or Gevin again. At least she’d get to see Mama soon, if there really was anything beyond this life.
“Adele.” The woman’s voice was calm but urgent.
Addy stirred, teetering on the edge of consciousness. Something tickled the back of her mind. So tired . . .
“Adele, wake up.” The voice was firmer this time.
Addy’s eyes cracked open and fell on the blurred image of a figure standing in the room before her. She blinked repeatedly, but the image remained a haze. “Mama?”
The woman smiled affectionately. “Yes, Adele.”
Addy’s heart skipped, and her throat tightened. Was this real? She made to push herself erect, but it was as if her body was sleeping. She slumped again. “How . . . ? You’re . . .”
Mama’s image shimmered slightly, blurred as though seen through a wet pane of glass. Her dark brown hair fell in waves past her shoulders, her deep blue dress flowing around her. Why couldn’t Addy see her more clearly? Had she hit her head?
“It’s all right, Adele.” Mama’s voice was calm and soothing now.
Addy’s heart clenched, and tears blurred her sight.
Mama reached out a hand. “I’m here with you now, dear, but I can’t stay.” Her voice sounded anguished. “You have to be strong. Your papa and Gevin need you, and time is short.”
Tears flowed down Addy’s cheeks, and her lower lip quivered. “Don’t leave me, Mama. I want you to stay with me. I miss you so much!”
“I know, sweetheart.” Mama’s blurred face stretched into a smile. “But there are things you must do yet.”
“I’m so tired.” Addy closed her eyes. “Stay with me, Mama,” she whispered. “Stay with me.”
There was a pause before Mama spoke again. “I’m always with you, dear. I’m always with you.”
The world . . . shifted. She was being drawn away. Wait! Her pulse quickened. I’m not ready! She clutched frantically at the things around her, fingers passing through objects that faded into nothing. The room before her, the entire world around her, was vanishing. She opened her mouth to scream, and Mama called to her from the darkness. “It’s all right, Adele.” Her voice faded into the distance. “You are safe now.”
Addy opened her eyes to the familiar sight of her bedroom. Papa sat at her bedside, looking down with a smile that failed to mask the concern lining his face. He looked tired—dark circles beneath his eyes, his gray-streaked hair disheveled. And there was a painful-looking gash that ran down the side of his cheek. Had he gotten that trying to save her? Had those things . . . ?
Her heart sunk, and her sight blurred through tears. She looked pointedly at his wound. “The storm?”
Papa nodded.
Addy raised a trembling hand to her mouth, her shoulders shuddering as a torrent of sobs took over. Papa placed a gentle hand against her cheek, but he remained quiet until her cries died down. Then he spoke softly. “It’s nothing, sweetheart, a scratch.”
“I’m . . . so . . . so sorry, Papa. I never meant for—”
Papa made a shushing sound as he caressed her cheek. “I don’t want you to worry about that right now. There will be plenty of time to talk later. Right now I want you to rest and—”
Addy gave a start. The boy! “There was a little boy!” Her words came out in a rush. “I tried to stop him, but he went through the gate.”
Papa frowned. “You saw a little boy?”
Addy nodded. “I chased him into Old Town, but I lost him. Spirelight, Papa! He might still be out there!”
“Addy.” Papa shook his head. “We didn’t find a little boy out there.”
Addy opened her mouth, but Papa cut in. “No. No, listen. I’m not sure what you saw, but they’ve already done the count. No one is missing.”
Addy frowned. How was that possible? There had been a little boy. She wasn’t imagining it. She shot him a questioning glance. Perhaps they made a mistake. Perhaps they mis—
“They did the count three times, Addy.” Papa’s expression was matter-of-fact. “Like they do every time.”
Addy let out a breath. It had been quite the ordeal; in fact, the whole thing seemed straight out of a dream. Well, what else was there to say? She had either seen a ghost, or she was going mad. But, in any case, it wasn’t a puzzle with an immediate answer.
Papa watched her for a moment, and then he nodded. “Now, no more excitement.”
Addy forced a smile. Then she winced. Her mind was clear now, and every inch of her seemed on fire. Some sort of green, pasty ointment dotted her arms, covering the wounds underneath. Some of those wounds were from splinters; others looked more like . . . claw marks. She shivered. Those long, rotten fingernails . . . She reached a trembling hand to her bandaged shoulder.
Papa’s eyes grew misty, his lips working to form words. “You were . . . taken by a skeg, weren’t you?”
Addy drew in a shuddering breath, and nodded.
“And he gave you that mark.”
Is that what he had done to her, marked her like . . . like cattle? She swallowed hard and nodded again.
Papa looked away, brows furrowed.
A soft cry left Addy’s lips. “Why . . . did he do that, Papa? Why did he . . . mark me? What does it mean?”
Papa paused before turning his teary, brown eyes back to hers. He hadn’t looked this heartbroken for a long, long time. “Nothing, Addy.” He cleared his throat. “It doesn’t mean anything. Now rest. Please.”
He was holding something back. She sighed. “I had a dream about Mama.” She forced a smile. “I wanted to give up, but she wouldn’t let me.”
Papa let out a long breath, his eyes staring inward for a moment. “I dream about her all the time. She’s always in my thoughts.”
“Why won’t you talk about her?”
“Now isn’t the time, Addy.”
“Yes it is, Papa.” A fire lit up in her middle. “Since she died, all you have ever told me is that it happened on her journey to the Tower. But you never said how it happened. I think . . . I think it’s time you told me everything. I want to know.”
Papa hesitated, looking thoughtful, resigned. Then he nodded. “It’s true . . . your mama made it to the Tower. She performed the Affirmation, and the Tower was calm again. The Light showed blue atop the spire. But before that, before they ever made it to the Tower, they were set upon by the skeg, and your mama was—”
Papa’s face wrinkled, his dark eyes still glistening. Addy’s chest tightened. Then Papa drew in a shuddering breath. “She was captured and held for a time.” He paused for a long moment. “The Guard Captain, Aeric, finally managed to get her free, but not before they . . . not before they marked her.”
Addy’s jaw dropped open. “They marked her? Like me?”
Papa nodded. “Aeric told me what they thought it had meant. She had been . . . claimed by the man who marked her and that he wouldn’t stop pursuing her until he got her back.” He paused again. “Your mama told him . . . not to let them take her alive again.”
Addy frowned. Would Aeric really have killed Mama before letting them take her? Would she have killed herself? “Did he . . . ?”
Papa shook his head slowly. “I don’t know, Addy. I really don’t know.�
� He wiped a hand down his face, looking suddenly very tired. “He told me only that she fell to a blade when the skeg had finally caught up to them again, but I’ve always felt that he was holding something back. I think—knowing your mama—she would have made him promise to do whatever was necessary. She would have made him swear on his life.” He heaved a sigh. “She could be a stubborn, stubborn woman sometimes.”
Addy’s head swam. So that was the tale, if what Aeric’s tale was true. It certainly made sense of the odd relationship Papa had with the man, the tension, the narrowed glances, the polite-yet-restrained greetings. Aeric might have killed Mama. Sure, it would have been to save her from a life of certain torture and misery, but . . . killing Mama?
Papa lowered his head. “It wasn’t right that he came back without her. He should have died protecting her. If he had then, maybe . . .”
Maybe Mama would be here instead. But would the skeg have ever let her go? Wait. Addy’s heart clenched. “Papa, will that skeg come for me? With he come for me now that I’m . . . marked?”
Papa shook his head. “No, Addy. We’re safe here in town, but the guard will be extra careful now anyway. And I’ll have a talk with the Guard Captain as well, convince him to put extra men on the walls, put spears in the farmer’s hands if we must.”
“For how long?”
Papa gave her an uncertain look, but his words were spoken as a vow. “For as long as it takes.”
Could Addy live like that, wondering when a day might come when those cold eyes were upon her again?
Papa watched her for a moment. Then he stood and kissed her forehead. “Get some rest now, Addy. And please don’t tell Gevin about all this, about your mark. Not yet. When he’s older.”
She nodded. It wasn’t right keeping the truth from Gevin, but she couldn’t disappoint Papa either. Hopefully when Gevin did finally learn the truth, he would understand.
