Marafae stopped cackling. Her face froze in some odd expression between disbelief and agony. “Hagan!” she screamed. “Hagan, no! Don’t go! Don’t leave me!” She clutched her belly. “Don’t leave us!”
Hagan kept walking. He never stopped or looked back.
The memory changed and I saw a dirty little wooden house. Marafae was inside, sulking beside a grime-covered window. It let in dull, yellow light that showed her swollen figure. Months had lapsed and her belly was twice as big as before.
There was a loud scraping noise as someone opened the door to the hut. Marafae jumped. She watched fearfully as an older Slaugh woman came inside. The woman was followed by a big, ugly Slaugh man with bone piercings through his nose and chin.
“What is he doing here?” Marafae asked in a scared whisper.
The older woman crossed her arms. There were streaks of gray in her hair and her face was rough as rawhide. I could tell that her appearance was more from a hard life than age, though.
“Don’t be so rude.” the woman said. “Didn’t I tell you I’d find a husband for you? Tarak has agreed to marry you.”
Marafae looked horrified. “But Mother, I don’t want to marry!”
“I’m not giving you a choice,” her mother said. “It’s the honorable thing to do.”
Tarak shambled towards Marafae. The bones in his wings looked like they’d been broken many times and healed over badly. He grinned, revealing blackened teeth. “Yeah,” he said. “Let me do the honorable thing.”
Marafae backed away from him until she ran into the wall. “Mother!”
The older woman scowled. “You shame me, daughter.”
“I brought you an engagement token,” Tarak said. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a dagger. The blade was rusty and pitted. The hilt was bloodstained. He held it out for Marafae to take.
Reviled, Marafae pressed further back against the wall.
“Take his gift!” her mother said.
Marafae took the dagger with trembling hands. Tarak caressed her cheek. She turned her face and shuddered.
“Now we can begin,” said Marafae’s mother. “Tarak, do you take Marafae to protect and provide for?”
Tarak nodded. A bit of spittle hung from the corner of his lips.
“And do you, Marafae, promise to serve and obey Tarak for the rest of your life?”
“No!”
“Come on,” Tarak said, leering at her. “I’m not so bad. Here, let me show you.” He grabbed her and tried to kiss her.
Screaming, Marafae shrank away. His body was far too large and too powerful for her to escape. She writhed while he pinned her to the wall and put his lips on her cheek.
“Say yes, Marafae,” her mother said. “Accept Tarak as your lifelong mate.”
“No!” Marafae shouted. Without warning, she plunged the engagement dagger into Tarak’s chest.
The big Slaugh man staggered backwards. A black stain spread across his chest. He fell to the floor and his eyes rolled to the back of his head.
Marafae watched Tarak die with a look of quiet fascination on her face.
Her mother’s mouth hung open. Her beady eyes shifted from the dead man on the floor to Marafae. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” she shouted.
Fear came back into Marafae’s eyes. She made a swift move for the door but her mother blocked her.
“Where do you think you’re going?” her mother asked.
Marafae struggled to get past her. “Let me go!”
Her mother grabbed her arm. “Where? Who are you going to go? To that stuck-up prince? He doesn’t give a damn about you!”
Marafae punched her mother in the face. The blow was so hard it knocked the woman out. She slumped to the dusty floor.
Marafae stared at her fist in disbelief. Her chest heaved. For a moment, she appeared scared. Then she clenched her jaw and jerked open the door. She was almost out when she paused and turned back.
She pulled the engagement dagger out of Tarak’s chest and tucked it into her skirt. After a last look around, she stepped over her mother and walked out the door.
In the next memory, Marafae was struggling against a wind that blew hard little ice crystals into her face. She shivered and pulled her thin leather cloak tighter around her shoulders. Her face was gaunt and there were dark shadows under her eyes. It looked as though she’d been on the run for some time.
She stopped to rest at the top of a hill. She kept her hands low to support her huge belly while she looked behind her. Winter-gray trees stretched as far as the eye could see.
All of a sudden Marafae let out a cry of pain. She sank to her knees and put her hands on the ground. Her eyes squeezed shut. She breathed rapidly in and out.
After a moment the pain appeared to stop. She opened her eyes and took in the landscape stretching before her. A plume of smoke rose from a little stone hut on the next ridge.
Marafae smiled. “It’s going to be okay, my child.” She kissed her fingers and pressed them to her belly. “We’re going to be safe.”
Next, Marafae was lying on fur blankets in the hut. A blazing hearth fire made everything glisten with heat. She awoke from slumber, but she looked exhausted. Her hair stuck to her face and there were marks where she’d bitten her lip.
An old Gnome lady with an eye patch came to her with a damp rag. She placed it on Marafae’s forehead. “Be still,” she said. “You’ve got a fever. It’s a miracle you survived labor.”
Marafae sat upright. The washcloth slid off her forehead. She looked around the room and felt around in the covers. “Where is it? Where’s my baby?”
The Gnome’s pinched up little face became solemn. “The child didn’t make it.”
Marafae let out a wail and buried her face in her hands. “No!” she cried. “My baby! Not my baby!”
“It was a girl,” the Gnome said. “A sickly little thing…”
For a long time Marafae hid her face while her body rocked with sobbing. When she finally looked up, there was an emptiness in her eyes. Something inside her had broken permanently. Part of Marafae had died on that day and she had never been whole since.
The vision of the hut faded and I saw Marafae kneeling beside a creek deep in a forest. The trees were so tall and thick that hardly any sunlight pierced the gloom. The snows had melted away, leaving the creek bank muddy. Nearby was an unmarked cairn covered in moss and vines. Marafae appeared not to notice it. She sat and stared at her reflection in the creek like a haunted woman. She was so thin that her clothes hung loose on her. In her hand she held Tarak’s dagger.
She held one wrist out over the stream. “It ends now,” she said. She lifted the point of the dagger to her wrist.
“Marafae.”
It was barely a whisper that might have been nothing more than the wind in the branches above. Marafae nearly dropped the dagger into the water.
“H-hello?” Marafae said. She pointed the dagger around. “Is someone there?”
“Marafae,” the voice came again.
She jerked her head around. The voice came from the direction of the cairn. Slowly, she rose and approached it.
“Poor girl,” the voice crooned. “What has the world done to you?”
“Who are you?” Marafae asked in a shaky voice. “Who’s there?”
“You are in pain,” said the voice. “I can sense it. You want that pain to end, don’t you?”
A breeze blew back Marafae’s hair. Her expression turned bitter. “The world is nothing but pain.”
“Your world is pain because of others,” the voice purred. “Others who have failed you. They’ve taken everything. I can give it all back. I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”
Marafae lowered the dagger and stared at the cairn. She brushed her fingers over her flat belly. “Everything?” she asked with a hint of desperation.
“Everything,” said the voice.
Marafae knelt next to the heavy slab of stone that sealed the cairn. Something malicious sti
rred behind her eyes. “What of my enemies?”
A chilling laugh echoed through the forest. “Enemies? Merely name them. However they have wronged you, I can visit vengeance upon them tenfold.”
“What would you have me do?” Marafae asked in a breathless whisper. She leaned in close to the vine-covered seal. “What price would I have to pay?”
“A price you were already willing to give up,” said the voice. “Your blood.”
Marafae lifted the dagger. She stared at it hungrily. “My blood?”
“Your blood can unlock my prison,” said the voice. “Free me, and I will forever be your servant.”
“How?” Marafae asked. She clawed at the vines covering the cairn.
“Find the emblem on the seal,” the voice commanded.
Marafae tore moss and vines from the stone slab. Using her jagged fingernails and the dagger, she moved with frantic energy. Ages of vegetation fell away, revealing a symbol etched on the face of the cairn. I recognized it instantly.
It was my own family crest, the Wren’s Wings. I gasped, remembering what Garland had told me about my ancestors.
In ancient times, the Wrens had hunted not only magical beasts, but demons as well. They used their barrier magic to seal the demons away in special tombs.
I realized now what lay within the cairn. I wanted to scream at Marafae to stop, but it was only a memory. I couldn’t undo the past.
“The Wren’s Wings are the lock,” the voice said. “Your blood is the key. You know what you must do.”
Marafae obeyed, trancelike. She plunged the dagger into the palm of her hand. Black droplets ran down the blade and dripped onto the Wren family crest.
Her blood was like acid on the stone. The slab began to bubble and smoke. Then it dissolved until there was nothing but a large hole left. Beyond it laid the dark interior of the tomb.
The chilling laughter rang out again. It grew louder and louder. “AT LONG LAST I AM FREE! THROUGH YOUR BLOOD I SHALL BE REBORN INTO THE WORLD!”
The laughter became overpowering. It drowned out all else. Marafae began to look frightened.
Suddenly the laughter changed. It became the high-pitched crying of a baby. The piercing cries came from inside the tomb.
Marafae took a deep breath and reached into the tomb. Her eyes were wild with longing. Her hands brushed something and she let out a gasp of delight.
Out of the cairn she pulled a squirming, crying infant.
Tears sprang out on Marafae’s cheeks. She cradled the infant in her arms. Its cries stopped.
“My baby,” Marafae said, rocking it against her chest. “My child. I’ll never let you go. I’ll never lose you.” She kissed the baby’s forehead.
The infant gurgled with pleasure as it stared up at her with glinting red eyes.
Marafae was delirious with joy. “A baby. My baby. My baby girl.”
I wanted to look away. The sight of those red eyes gleaming from an infant’s face was sickening.
“A girl,” Marafae said as she stroked the baby’s head lovingly. “I will call you Robyn.”
It ended. I felt a nauseating mix of shock and horror. Knowing the truth didn’t give me any peace of mind. It confirmed my worst fears. My ancestors had sealed Robyn away long ago, but now she walked the world again, trailing death and destruction in her wake. Marafae’s hate-filled blood had freed a monster.
“You!” I shouted, prying Marafae’s hand from my wrist. “You set her loose!”
“Forgive me!” Marafae pleaded. “I was blinded by my desires. I was consumed by hate.”
Seething anger filled me. I thought of my father and of Hue. They would still be alive if not for Marafae’s selfish act all those years ago. “How many people have to suffer because of you?”
Marafae pulled herself up to the chair. Her body collapsed and she gazed up at me with weary eyes. “Many will suffer,” she said. Her voice was growing weak. “There will be battles and many will probably die but—” a tiny spark of something like hope showed in her face “—I can give you a weapon.”
I suppressed my rage long enough to ask, “What weapon?”
“Myself,” Marafae said. “I was the key that unlocked Robyn’s tomb. With your help, I can become the key that locks her away again.”
I didn’t understand. “How? You’re dead.”
“So long as Robyn lives, a part of me does, too. She’s my blood. I gave that to her. Even though my flesh is dead, there is still one last part of me that I can give.”
The anger began to subside. I was perplexed by Marafae’s sincerity and her strange proposal. “A part of you?”
“My soul,” Marafae said. “Take it before the Twi-Realm reclaims it and I can become your key.”
I thought of my Spirit Mentor. The irony that Linaeve was Marafae’s old rival was not lost on me. I wondered if Marafae meant for me to do the same thing with her soul as with Linaeve’s and bind it to a tree. There were no trees on Avalon, though.
“That’s a powerful object you have,” Marafae said.
She was looking at the dagger in my belt.
I removed the dagger carefully. I hadn’t handled it much since my last encounter with Robyn. It was a gift from Lev. At one time the blade had been purest translucent blue. I had used the dagger to drive Robyn out of Chloe’s body. The desperate act had nearly killed Chloe and left the dagger forever marred. Now it was crimson.
“Yes,” Marafae said, her eyes widening. Her fingers stretched towards the dagger but then she drew them back. “I can’t. You must do it.”
“Do what?” I asked.
Marafae turned over her hand. There was a scar on her palm. “Undo what was done. Make me into the key.”
I stared from my dagger to Marafae’s palm. “I see.”
“Can I beg one thing of you first?” Marafae asked. Her voice shook. What little strength she had left was seeping away.
“What?” I asked.
“Forgive me,” Marafae said. “Please, I beg of you. Find it in yourself. Forgive me.”
Marafae had suffered a terrible past, but I could never forget the tragedy she’d brought to others. Dad’s last smile was always lingering over my memories, reminding me of what I’d lost.
“Please,” Marafae begged.
I stared down into the face I had hated for so long. Her eyes were all but empty. The only emotion left was pain. I tried to put myself in her place and I had a chilling revelation.
We weren’t so different. I tried to imagine what it would be like if everyone I cared about turned their backs on me. The loneliness was unthinkable. Marafae’s baby was the only thing she had left and when that was taken…
An unexpected tear rolled down my cheek. Surprised, I wiped it away. Somehow, I had found a part of myself that could look Marafae in the eyes and feel truly sorry.
“I forgive you,” I said as I lifted the dagger.
A look of peace transformed Marafae’s face. She smiled. It was the last thing I saw before I plunged the dagger into her hand.
There was a flash of light like the twinkle of a Pyxis Charm, but brighter. I closed my eyes. The dagger grew heavier in my hands. There came a sound like a sigh and then all was silent. When I opened my eyes, Marafae was gone.
No, not gone. I could feel her in the dagger. It was a thing reborn. The light that had dimmed when I used it on Chloe had returned, but it was different. Where before the dagger had stood for peace and purity, it now gleamed with a blood red purpose.
“The key,” a Seraph said.
I turned to see the vaporous figure watching me. I didn’t know when it had come into the room. I lifted the dagger high, feeling it pulse with its new power. It was only one half of the solution, though. “If this is the key, then where is the lock?”
“Ah,” the Seraph said. “We’ve meddled enough—nay, far more than we should have already. Even so, I would tell you where the lock was if we knew.”
This took me by surprise. “You mean you don’t know h
ow my ancestors locked Robyn away before?”
The Seraph’s silvery form grew darker. “She has…evolved since then. The past methods of containment are no longer strong enough, but I can tell you this: The way still lies with your ancestors. They were far more powerful than even they realized. Beings like Robyn will always gravitate towards that kind of power. In doing so, they create their own prisons.”
“You mean she’ll create the lock?”
The Seraph’s form grew bright again. “You’ll know it just as you know that the dagger is the key. It is time for you to return home, Emma Wren. You know now what created your enemy. You have the means to destroy her.”
CHAPTER FOUR
It was past midnight when I made Tuari land at the bottom of the castle cliff so as not to disturb those sleeping inside. I carried the red dagger in my belt. It was now more than just a weapon. It was Marafae—all that was left of her, anyways. It was a key. At long last I had something to use against Robyn.
I was clueless as to how my ancestors had sealed Robyn away centuries ago. I was only one Wren. Robyn’s powers were far greater than my own. Besides, I’d have to find her first. Robyn had a Pyxis Charm. She could be anywhere.
I was in an odd mood as I trekked down the path that led to the castle entrance behind the waterfall. The dark memories of Marafae’s life haunted me, especially the face of the boy who’d broken her heart.
King Hagan Winterwing had a dark past, too. I’d always pictured him as a heroic figure who tried to liberate the Slaugh from an age of violence. He had sought diplomacy with the Fay and tried to give his people books and art.
He had also been a cold-hearted jerk. I thought of my Spirit Mentor. What would Linaeve say if she knew? Did she have any idea? Would she still have given up her life at Ivywild if she’d known what Hagan had done?
Perhaps none of it mattered now, but one thing still bugged me. Hagan looked remarkably like Lev. It made me question all the things Lev left unspoken. Could he possibly be King Hagan’s son?
I wanted to believe that he’d have told me something that big before now. If he was Hagan’s son, that meant he was a prince—no, a king. There was nobody else left who could claim the Slaugh throne.
The Flute Keeper's Promise (The Flute Keeper Saga) Page 5
