by C. Ellsworth
The thump of crutches sounded from inside the door. Papa stepped to the side to make room for Gevin, the boy’s gaunt face twisting with the effort to hide his tears. He stood upright, struggling visibly from the effort. Then he handed his crutches to Papa and opened his arms, his frail form teetering.
Addy’s throat tightened. Then she rushed to him, kneeled down, and pulled him close. He was so thin, so fragile! She could feel every bone beneath his pale skin, but still she held him until he gave a soft groan. “I’ll see you soon, Wiggly.”
Gevin sniffled, a small cry sounding in his chest. “Okay . . . Squeaky.”
Mayor Aldis cleared his throat again. It really was time to leave now. Addy pulled herself away from Gevin and stepped through the swinging gate.
Ryan was waiting beside the opened carriage door, that crooked smile still on his lips. Why had they chosen him to come? He held out a hand. Well, at least the rogue had manners. She took his hand and allowed him to help her onto the step.
The inside of the carriage was as she remembered it from a week ago when she had been brought home from the mayor’s manor. There were two cushioned benches, upholstered in velvet and embroidered with gold thread; walls and ceiling lined with fine, matching cloth, woven with swirling patterns; and four small windows, two on each side, their fancy curtains drawn open.
She sat down on the rear bench and peered out through her window. Papa was watching her with a sad-but-proud expression, while Gevin stood with tears in his eyes. She would see them again soon, she would. Both of them!
This was not good-bye.
Chapter 9
By the time the mayor’s carriage got under way, the sun had risen a full length above the horizon, a bright yellow disc breaking away from the mountains to the east. Addy wasn’t jostled hardly at all as the large wheels rolled over the rough cobblestone road; metal springs underneath the carriage—and more under her seat—made the ride quite smooth. She exchanged polite smiles with Mayor Aldis, whose girth took up the entire bench opposite her. Ryan sat quietly at her side.
Addy cleared her throat. “Mayor Aldis . . .” How could she tactfully get answers without him suspecting she had overheard his conversation with Phineus? “Has there ever been a Cycle . . . when one of the Proven didn’t make it to the Tower in time for the Affirmation?”
The mayor pressed a sausage-like finger to his lips as he thought for a moment. “Phineus knows far more about Tower history than I do, my dear, but I seem to recall him telling the tale of one such occurrence, a close call, if you will.”
“What happened?”
Ryan kept his gaze pointed through the window, but he was certainly listening by the way he cocked his ear up slightly.
Abruptly, the carriage struck a pothole, and the mayor’s jowls wobbled. He smelled of sweat and spices. “After several weeks with the Spirelight lit up orange, the earth began to tremble violently. The sky filled with dark clouds that spat lightning so often people began fearing they’d go mad. If not for the efforts of the brave Proven, who knows what would have happened? We may not have been here today.”
If that had happened the way the mayor said, it must have been long ago and documented in books only a few had read. What other secrets might be found in tomes like that? “I’m the only Proven this year, Mayor. What will happen if I fail?”
Mayor Aldis frowned briefly before his fat lips stretched again into a grin. Did the man have a real smile in him anywhere? “Don’t you worry, my dear.” His tone carried an edge of . . . what? Whatever it was it sent ice up her spine. “I have all the faith in the world—the town has all the faith in the world that you will not fail us.”
“But what happens if she does fail?” Ryan’s dark eyes were strangely defiant.
The mayor regarded Ryan with a cold stare, his large lips drawing to a thin line. “Phineus is quite skilled at interpreting the old texts, but even he cannot know the whole truth of it. What he does know—what he has shared with me—is that a . . . cleansing will occur.”
Addy’s brows rose. “Cleansing? What does that mean?”
The mayor turned narrowed eyes away from Ryan and trained them onto her, the scowl falling away to be replaced by that unsettling grin. “Again, no one can say for certain, but Phineus believes that all living things in this land will be . . . destroyed . . . only to be reborn again, untouched by the Faege.”
Ryan sighed impatiently. “What do you believe, Mayor?”
Addy breathed a sigh. Were all guardsmen so rude? If they were, the next six months were going to go by terribly slow.
The mayor’s grin faltered for a second before recovering. “Again, I am not the expert, but I would propose that the Tower might have a purpose that no one in a thousand years has considered.” The mayor’s voice grew more impassioned with each word. “Could it be that the Tower was actually meant to cleanse the Faege?”
“Wait.” Ryan’s dark brows furrowed. “That would mean that we’ve been living with this damn Faege for a thousand years. For no reason!”
Addy frowned. Had they endured all this sickness and death for so long because no one had understood the old texts? Could the mayor know more than Phineus? The old sage was getting along in years. No, it made no sense. Greater men had lived, and not one of them had come to the same conclusion. Or if they had, their conclusions had proved false.
The mayor nodded. “I have had lengthy discussions—arguments really—about this, but each time it is the same. No one believes the Lord of Light would impose such a ritual, Cycle after Cycle, if the true expectation is . . . to do nothing. Still, I believe there is something we’re missing, something we’re unable to comprehend. . . .” He paused, eyes lowering to stare at nothing.
What wasn’t he saying? He had to be hiding something. The overheard conversation in his manor suggested that.
Addy closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers. A dull ache was growing in her temples. Everything was changing: her mama, the mayor, and now possibly the very foundation of everyone’s beliefs. What if the Lord of Light was merely a story made up to make sense of it all? What if there was a completely reasonable explanation that didn’t involve colorful characters in children’s bedtime stories?
What would Papa say to all this? He’d say “Keep your chin up and listen to your heart.” Now if only her heart would settle down long enough to tell her something useful.
She breathed a soft sigh and opened her eyes. Ryan was silent and thoughtful beside her, an elbow propped up on the window’s edge as he looked out into the street. The mayor was watching her with a satisfied smile that sent an icy chill up her spine. She smiled softly in return; the man wouldn’t see an ounce of her discomfort. She turned her face to stare outside.
A woman’s face appeared suddenly in the window, pale and hollow. Addy jumped, leaping nearly high enough to bump her head against the roof of the carriage. It was Clara Roberts, a woman who had been battling the Faege for months, one who few expected would see the summer. The woman gave her a desperate, pleading look before lifting her baby up to the window. “Please, Addy. Kiss my baby!”
What? Kiss her baby? “I’m sorry. I—I . . . have to get to the barracks. Another time perhaps?” The woman stayed with the carriage, however, holding the small child to the window. How did the woman run like that without falling? The baby stuck a fist into its mouth and gurgled happily.
Others were gathered along the street now as well, dozens of them, all lined up and looking on curiously or in desperation, a scant few carrying babies of their own. The carriage slowed, and the driver, Orik, could be heard cursing from his seat above them. “Stand clear! Make way for the mayor!”
The people did not stand clear, however; they drew in closer, pushing and shoving toward the carriage. One man, a frail-looking fellow with dull patchy hair, pressed forward, pushing Clara out of the way to stick his head into the window. Addy shrieked. His face! It was covered in boils! He looked at her frantically through
wide, crazed eyes. “Bless me, Addy! The Faege is in me, rotting me from the inside. Please, bless me. I beg you!”
What was going on? A strong hand clamped onto Addy’s right arm and pulled her away from the window. She screeched, and then Ryan was there, fist flying forward to strike the oozing man hard in the teeth. The man staggered out of sight, but was immediately replaced with another, who shouted proclamations of his undying love for her as he scrambled to get inside.
The driver was now shouting threats at the top of his lungs, but by his desperate tone, no one was listening. The carriage had come to a complete stop and was now beginning to rock back and forth as the mob pushed from outside. Desperate cries rang out from the people, some begging for miracles, some offering marriage or gifts, and some offering things that might have made her blush had her heart not been in her throat.
The mayor sat stiffly, clinging desperately to his seat, face ghostly white and eyes bulging from his fat face. His gaze darted from one window to the next, his mouth moving to form soundless words. Ryan fought desperately against the people trying to get in, his punches and kicks striking relentlessly until they fell away. He already bore a few wounds—three bleeding gashes on his arms and a red welt down his cheek. Lord, help us!
Then the door to the carriage flew open, and a large hulk of a man started to climb inside. His eyes were crazed like the rest of them, face dripping sweat. Rond Helms? A very docile person the last time she had seen him. “My boy, Arin! He passed last winter. Please, I’ll do anything! Just bring him back to me!”
“They’re all mad!” Ryan shouted. A thrust of his foot caught the man hard under the chin, slamming that lantern jaw shut with a loud crack from his teeth.
Rond did not fall, though. He sneered and reached a large hand toward Addy, meaty fingers grasping for her throat. Ryan produced a dagger and put the blade to rest just below Rond’s bulging eye. “Get out!” Ryan growled through bared teeth. “Get out, or I’ll send you to see your boy.”
Addy swallowed. Would Ryan really kill the man? Sure, Rond looked like a rabid wolf right then, but he needed to be stopped, not killed!
Something seemed to snap in Rond’s head. He looked around suddenly as if seeing for the first time, and his jaw dropped open. His face reddened and his eyes glistened. Was he going to cry? Abruptly, he turned and crashed his way through the people behind him, screaming, “Arin!”
The crowd pressed in to fill the path Rond had left. There were so many, all desperate beyond sanity, eyes wide and feral as they fought to get close, fought to get inside. Ryan swung and kicked and shoved, sometimes striking with his dagger but never to kill. There was no fear on his sweat-covered face as he sent people stumbling backward, just stern determination.
A loud horn suddenly pierced the air, loud enough to be heard clearly over the tumult of the crazed crowd. It was followed by a repetitive thumping. A drum. What was happening?
Ryan drew back from the doorway and paused, ear cocked to the air. Then he turned to her, relief flooding his face. “It’s the Guard!” He barked a laugh. “It’s the Guard! Do you hear them? We won’t be dying today, Addy!”
Addy’s heart leaped. Light be praised! In another moment or two they would have been overcome by the crowd. Her throat tightened.
Ryan’s eyes locked onto her trembling lips, and he made as if to move closer, his head dipping ever so slightly. Addy’s heart skipped. Then Ryan paused, a faint color rising in his cheeks. His eyes moved back to hers, and an awkward smile bent his lips.
A large figure appeared in the doorway, shoving away another man foolish enough not to get out of his way. It was Aeric, the yellow embroidered sun on his vest gleaming in the sunlight, his dark eyes narrowed below a furrowed brow. He peered in through the small doorway and gave each of them a brief glance before sheathing the sword in his hand. “The crowd is dispersing, Mayor.” His voice was flat, as if explaining how ashes were gray. How was he so calm? “No one was seriously injured, except for Orik. The crowd nearly took his arm off. But the men are taking him to Erabelle now.”
The mayor nodded, his face still very pale. “Thank you, Guard Captain. Find another driver, please. I’d like to get home with all haste.”
Aeric gave a curt nod, his darks eyes turning to Ryan, then to Addy, then back to Ryan again. The color in Ryan’s face deepened, and the Guard Captain quirked an eyebrow. “Join the others outside, guardsman. You can escort the carriage the rest of the way on foot.”
Ryan nodded and then flashed another brief smile at Addy before he stepped outside. There were still sporadic shouts coming from out there, but most were from guardsmen as they worked to break up the crowd with threats of dungeon time, among other things.
She drew in a deep breath and let it out, but it did little to ease the chaos in her stomach.
Across from her, the mayor eyed her passively, his face a sickly, pale tint. It was a good thing Ryan had been there to protect her; the mayor would have sat there and watched as Addy was torn limb from limb.
It wasn’t long after the carriage got underway again that they crossed finally through the main gate of the ten-foot-wide stone wall that surrounded the barracks. At about six feet thick, it was only half the thickness of the main wall around the town. Like the main wall, though, watchtowers were placed evenly along its length to give the Guard a clear view of everything around them. Did that wall and its towers work equally well at keeping people in as it did keeping them out?
The carriage rolled to a stop, and a boy—perhaps a few years younger than Addy and dressed in plain brown clothing—opened the door and offered a hand. Saem was his name, she believed. He eyed her with wonder, but at least he kept his awe in check. Addy gave him as polite a smile as she could muster and accepted his hand before stepping out onto the paved ground.
She stood now in a plain courtyard of patchy grass and a few sparse trees, a site clearly not indented to impress. Before her stood the main building, built of the same gray stone as the walls, with a large set of wooden doors that were just now swinging open.
Mayor Aldis leaned his round face out of the window and looked at her with an imitation smile. That fake expression—on a face still pale from their ordeal—sent a shiver racing between Addy’s shoulder blades. “Best of luck to you, Ms. Swift!” His voice shook a little. “Lord of Light watch over you, and remember what I said. I’m sure you’ll make the right choice when the time comes.” And then he sat back in his seat and shouted irritably, “Driver! Take me home.”
That was it? He wasn’t staying until the end? There was supposed to be a final ceremony, presided over by the mayor himself. Had the man been so unhinged by what had happened that he couldn’t even muster a few words of encouragement before the Guard? On second thought, who wanted another flowery speech?
Saem hastily closed the carriage door as it pulled away. Then the mayor was gone through the gate, speeding down the street outside.
She turned her eyes back to the barracks, her stomach fluttering. A small stream of guardsmen was emerging from the main doors to file into lines along the path, their eyes intent on her.
Saem tugged gently at the sleeve of her dress, drawing her attention. “They say you can cure the Faege.” His voice was filled with wonder, his eyes hopeful. “My baby sister is . . . Can you help her?”
A tightness grew in Addy’s throat. “I am not special, Saem. I don’t know what happened at the Proving, but I can’t perform miracles.” What had happened? Did it have something to do with the . . . things she could do? Nothing good had ever come of it. She couldn’t even control it! All I can do is destroy things.
Saem dropped his dark eyes to the ground, looking as though the last spark of hope had just gone out. Addy’s heart ached. She couldn’t comfort him and tell him everything was going to be all right. She couldn’t help his sister. She placed her hand on his slumping shoulder and gave it a light squeeze.
“Adele Swift!” The Guard Captain stood before the main doors, the
sharp features of his sun-bronzed face looking carved from stone, emotionless and uncaring. “Welcome to the barracks.”
Chapter 10
Addy walked up the path between the guardsmen, her heart pounding. As was customary, there were sixteen guardsmen, eight to each side along the path that lead to the main barracks’ doors. They were all dressed alike in tanned leather pants and light-colored cotton shirts. Guard Captain Aeric stood at the end, the yellow sun gleaming on his chest, and his booted foot resting on the first of three stone steps.
All this ceremony. Just for her. Her stomach roiled.
Their eyes followed her as she went, their expressions a mix of curiosity, awe, and confusion. Her face heated under so many stares. Yes, she was the one and only Proven this Cycle, but did she really deserve all this attention? Regardless, she held her head high. No one would ever say that Adele Swift was meek!
Addy smiled and nodded to the last few guardsmen in line before she came to stand before the Guard Captain. He seemed lost in thought, a little . . . regretful even. Was he being sympathetic to her being there, or did her presence stir up guilt over Mama? Addy must remind him of her.
She greeted Aeric with a subdued smile, and abruptly, his whiskered face was unreadable stone. He stood for a moment, looking down at her, before his eyes moved briefly to regard those standing in the lines behind her. Then he spun on his heel and started for the door. “Come.”
Addy paused. So much for the ceremony. Then she picked up her feet and followed.
The doorway opened to a main entry area, which was sparsely decorated with a small statue of a man holding a sword and shield, and a faded wall hanging of men riding bulls. They were probably put there at the insistence of the mayor, gaudy decorations that served no purpose in a place like this. Like jewelry on a pig. The air smelled old and dusty with a hint of sweat.
Papa would come here from time to time to repair a chest or a door, or a bed post, but despite her pleas, he had always refused to ever bring her along inside. “Too dangerous,” he had said. “The barracks is full of men carrying weapons, men without manners.”
