"Silas," he said. "You do realize if you're lying, or wrong about this, I'll have no choice but to hang you."
Silas nodded, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. "I was downstream, taking a bath," he said, the words spilling out almost too fast to be understood. "I heard voices, so I climbed up onto the shore. I saw Selene and Calum Hess sitting together. He was begging her to keep his secret. He had blood under his eye."
The Constable raised his eyebrow. "I see," he said. He looked over at the steward. "Send for Roque right away."
The steward bowed and left the building, headed for the messenger's office.
"My reward?" Silas asked.
"If your information is right, you'll get it, but we'll need to send for Roque before we can move in."
Silas felt his stomach churning again, his body losing strength. "You mean I'm not going to get paid today?" he asked.
Penticott shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Our own Mediator, Lia, was dispatched to Watertown only a few days ago. We don't expect her back for another fortnight at least, and that's assuming she doesn't have to transfer the Cursed to the collection point before she returns. It's been quite a while since we've had two Cursed turn up within a matter of days. In any case, we'll send the fastest horse to the capital to summon him. When he arrives, we'll go to the Old Oak with a squad of soldiers, so that you can name Calum as Cursed. Hopefully, he won't resist, and Roque will take him to the collection point."
Silas stopped moving. "What?" he whispered, the word getting caught in his throat. He didn't know he had to look the boy in the eye and name him. His excitement was quickly turning to complete fear.
"It's his law, Silas. To dissuade the desperate from making false claims." Penticott stared at him, suggesting that it was exactly what he was doing.
"I know what I heard," Silas said. Didn't he? He was sure he did. "I'll be at the Sleepy Hollow."
The Constable shook his head. "I'm sorry, Silas," he said. "We need to keep you here. We can't afford for you to disappear before Roque arrives."
Silas had it in his mind to run, but he didn't. He had no chance of escaping an entire building of soldiers. He let the Constable take him by the arm and lead him further into the building, past the offices and down the stairs into the dungeon. There was only one other prisoner being held in the small, damp, cool cells beneath the building; an angry looking man with olive skin. Silas knew by his complexion that he must have been from the marshes.
"Look on the bright side," Constable Penticott said. "It's only straw, but it's a bed, and you'll get two meals every day. That's probably better than you've had in some time." He started to leave, and then turned back. "Oh, and I'll send someone down with a razor and some new clothes. I won't have you looking like the drunk vagrant you are when Roque arrives."
Silas let out a loud sigh, and went over to the bundle of straw in the corner. It was a three day ride from here to Elling, and that was assuming the messenger rode the horse as hard as he dared. That meant he would be stuck in the dungeon for six days at least. If Penticott didn't want him looking like a drunk, he was sure the man wouldn't grant his request for a drink either. He sat down and put his head in his hands.
" I wish I was washing dishes right now," he moaned.
***
"Wake up, murderer."
Silas opened his eyes. He had fallen asleep on the straw bed, turned on his side and facing the wall. When he rolled onto his back, he saw he wasn't alone. An olive skinned face was glaring down at him, an angry sneer painting it.
"Sweet dreams, you bastard?" the man asked, kicking him in the ribs with his bare foot. Silas cried out in pain and surprise.
"What are you doing?" he cried. "Leave me alone." Silas looked over to his cell door.
It was open.
"Do you think I don't recognize you, you murdering pig?" He kicked Silas again.
"Please, I don't know what you're talking about. I've never killed anyone." At least, he didn't think he had. His memories could be a little shaky sometimes, but he would have known if he had killed someone. Wouldn't he?
The man leaned down and put his arms under Silas, lifting him with ease. Now that he was closer, Silas could see the thick masses of muscle and the sheer size of the man. "No? Let me remind you." He threw Silas against the back of the cell, knocking the wind out of him.
He started wheezing, and doubled over.
"My name is Aziz Lozen. My sister's name was Ezra. My mother's name was Vishnu. My father's name was Roedic." For each name, he punched Silas in the stomach. "You killed them. All of them. You and his bastard soldiers."
Silas heard the names. He didn't remember them. He didn't know them. He had never been any kind of soldier, never mind one of his soldiers.
"Please," he gasped. "You have me mistaken with someone else. I didn't... I couldn't..."
"I'd know your face anywhere, murderer. Age and hair can't hide you from me. I've dreamed about killing you for half of my life. I never imagined I would find you locked up in one of his dungeons." He punched Silas in the gut three more times, laughing all the while.
Silas wanted to slump to the floor, and go back to sleep. He wanted to slip past Aziz and run out of the cell, up the stairs, and past the guards. He wanted anything but to be leaning against the wall, being pummeled to death.
"Help," he croaked. It was barely even loud enough for himself to hear.
Aziz laughed harder. "They can't hear you, murderer. I know, I've screamed myself hoarse. Even if they could, they wouldn't come. They don't care about us. They don't care about anyone who tries to think for themselves. All of those people out there. They think that they are following their own path, living their own life. They don't realize how he controls it. They think he only takes the Cursed, but that isn't true. I know, I've spent years searching for answers. He takes what he needs from the people, to have what he wants. No matter the cost to others. Like my family."
He started punching, faster and harder. His eyes were welling with tears now, his pain finally finding some release in beating Silas to death.
Silas moved his arms, trying to block the punches, but he couldn't do it. He was too old, too slow, too weak, too hungover.
"Please," he whispered.
Aziz didn't listen.
I'm going to die, Silas thought. He knew it was true. He could feel his body beginning to bend under the pressure of the blows. Soon enough it would break. His mind traveled to the seashore. He was watching a huge, three-masted wooden ship sailing away from the land and out over the horizon. His lady, his love was on that ship. Why was she leaving him?
Under the pressure of the blows, something inside Silas shifted. It was a corked bottle that was never meant to come unstoppered, that had been drowned in the flood of ale for nearly ten years. Now the cork was pushed upward by the pressure, breaking the airtight seal and allowing a memory to drip out.
Aziz drew back his hand and threw another punch, the first intended for Silas' face. Without warning, Silas shifted his weight and ducked to the side of the blow. Aziz's fist hit the cement wall, his fingers breaking under the force. It must have been painful, but in his anger the man didn't notice.
Silas wasn't thinking, just acting. When Aziz tried to punch him in the gut, he twisted and caught the arm, using the forward momentum to pull the man into the wall. Aziz cried out in pain, his nose crushed against the stone, then felt himself being pulled and flipped onto his back.
He stared up at Silas, his anger turning to fear. The old man looked different. Younger, stronger, harder. "You are Heden himself," he whispered. He saw Silas raise his bare foot. He saw it lash out at his temple like a snake. He never saw anything else.
Silas looked down at Aziz's dead body with a mixture of fear and sadness. Where had he learned to fight like that? How did he know where to kick him to kill him? How had he done it with no thought or remorse?
He didn't know the answer to any of the questions. He had acted on instinct to defend
himself. He had done things he hadn't even known he knew how to do. The feeling was overwhelming.
He winced from a sharp stabbing pain in his ribs. "It was him or me," he whispered. "I don't know who he thought I was?"
He shifted his attention to the open cell door. He knew he couldn't escape. Just because the door was open, he'd still need to get past all of the soldiers. He decided he would just lay down and rest, and wait for them to come to feed him. Then he would explain everything.
Chapter 6
They had barely closed half the distance to the woods when Eryn looked back and saw that the soldiers were following. Two of them, the ones with the bows. She saw the others with the torches back near the house, and a moment later the roof began to smoke.
"They're burning it down," she cried. Roddin hadn't turned to look. He had enough to deal with, worrying about what was in front of them.
"We don't need it anymore," he said. "We can't go home, Erie. We can't ever go home."
If she'd had time to think about it, she would have cried. She knew if they lived the time to mourn would come, but it would have to wait. She had promised her mother she would survive, and she was going to put all of her courage and effort into that.
"They're gaining," she said, watching the rear while Roddin maneuvered Maxin towards the first copse of berry bushes. She remembered being out there just that morning, picking the berries for their porridge.
"We're almost there," he replied. His voice was stern and strong, so unlike the playful tone she was used to.
Eryn kept her eyes on the soldiers behind them, noticing that the other four had chosen to remain behind. Were they so sure that they would catch the two of them? Did they have any reason not to be?
"Watch out," she squealed, seeing the solider's arm slide back, his body arched sideways on the horse while he trained his bow. Roddin directed Maxin to the right, and the arrow landed in the dirt beside them. "We aren't going to make it."
"Yes we are." He kicked into Maxin's sides, and the horse drove forward. He knew the forest, especially here at the edge. He knew all of the nooks and crannies, the narrow trails and rocks and streams. He knew the best path to take to lose them. The soldiers vanished behind them as they pushed into the woods.
Roddin rode the horse hard, left and right and left again, in a pattern designed to lose the soldiers. He leaped over a thicket of briar, and pounded across a puddle, deep from yesterday's rain. Finally, he let the exhausted horse slow to a walk.
"Do you th-"
"Shh..." Roddin raised his finger to his lips and sat perfectly still, listening. Eryn didn't hear anything.
"I think we lost them," Eryn whispered, after a minute or more had passed.
"I think we did," her brother agreed. He turned on the horse's back and slid off. "Come on."
"What are you dong?" She wasn't sure it was a good idea to get down. What if they needed to make a quick escape?
"Two people are much quieter and less noticeable than a horse," he said. "We have to leave him behind."
She didn't want to, but she knew they must. She leaned over Maxin's neck and kissed the side of his head. "Thank you," she said, before jumping off.
"This way." Roddin pointed towards a brace of poisonous ivy. "Try not to let it touch your skin, but if it must, it must. I can make a salve later. They won't be expecting us to go that way."
Eryn didn't argue. She was glad she had worn her pants and blouse today, along with her leather boots. She didn't usually dress so boyishly to do the household chores, but she had stained the only dress she cared for during a stick-fighting match with Roddin only two days back, and her mother hadn't had time to wash it.
Mother. The thought of her came unbidden to her mind, and it was all she could do to keep walking. Her mother was dead, she realized. Her father was dead. She had seen the arrows in his chest, and the swords in his stomach.
Without warning, her insides began to churn, and a moment later she was leaning against a tree, heaving onto the grass.
"Eryn, are you okay?" Roddin put his arm around her shoulders and helped her steady.
She wanted to scream, and to cry, and to shake with anger and rage. She wanted to lay there and never move again. She'd promised she would survive. She took a few deep breaths and calmed herself.
"I know," he said. "There will be time for that later. Right now we have to be quiet."
They walked through the poisonous ivy, careful to step between the leaves and the vines so that their feet wouldn't leave a trail. Eryn stumbled once, her hand coming down on the plant. She felt the slippery substance that coated the leaves spread across her hand, and she stifled a groan, knowing it was going to itch like a bucket of fleas in an hour or two.
After the ivy, they came to a clearing. Crossing it was a gigantic fallen tree. At one time, it must have been standing in the center, its massive roots taking all of the nutrients from the soil around it and not leaving enough for any of the other growth except for moss and grasses.
"I've never been in this part of the Wood before," Eryn said.
"I came here with Master Lewyn a fortnight back. We sat on top of the old redwood and looked at the stars. He showed me the constellations."
"Constellations?"
"Yes. A long time ago, scholars looked at the sky and decided to name the shapes the lights made. I don't know why, but it was fun trying to pick them out."
"I wish you could show me the constellations." Eryn looked up at the sky. She could see the white lights winking back at her, but she knew they didn't have time to stop and stare.
"One day I will," Roddin said. "I promise."
They kept walking towards the other side of the clearing, when they heard the loud snap of a branch breaking.
"Get under the tree," Roddin said. "Quickly."
They turned and ran back to the old tree, finding a space between the trunk and a branch to tuck themselves into.
Eryn's heart pounded, and she was squeezed in so tight with her brother that she could feel his heart was pounding too. They both sat motionless, trying not to even breathe, listening to every wisp of sound that made it into their hiding place.
A minute passed, and then another, and then another. Just when Eryn was going to say she thought it was safe to leave, they heard the snort of a horse, and then the sound of hooves on the grass. The soldiers were here!
They sat in the shadow of the tree and waited. There was a dim light from the sky, and it was added to by the torches the soldiers were now carrying.
The soldiers moved slowly through the clearing, and one approached the tree, waving his torch back and forth so it would light up the crevices between the branches.
"They couldn't have gotten far," the one that was further away said. His voice was deep and rough.
"Not without their horse," the other agreed. He sounded more kind. "It was a kindness to put that old nag down."
Eryn sucked in her breath, making the slightest gasping sound. They had killed Maxin too!
"Did you hear that?" The soldier near the tree stopped moving and dismounted his stallion. A dozen heartbeats later, they could see the very bottom of his feet past their branch.
"Just the wind," the other one said.
The soldier swung his torch, and Eryn watched the flickering glow of it move closer. She could feel Roddin tensing next to her, ready to defend his sister if they were discovered.
Except the branch was too thick, and the torchlight couldn't penetrate deep enough into the crook. For just a moment they could see the darkness of his eyes, shadowed by the metal helm, and then he turned and walked back the other way. There was a creak of leather as he regained his mount, and they rode out of the clearing.
Eryn waited a long time before speaking. "They didn't see us," she whispered.
"No. We can go out and stretch our legs. I think we're safe for tonight, but we have to try to keep moving. They know we're out here, which means if those two don't find us, they'll send more soldie
rs."
"Roddin?" Eryn said, once they had left the safety of the tree and stretched their legs out.
"Yes?"
"Why are you helping me?" She felt so tired, and so scared. She could only imagine that her brother felt the same way.
"What do you mean? Why wouldn't I help you? We're family."
"I've heard stories," Eryn said. "Molly Timber used to say that Cursed weren't safe from anyone, not even their own families. Because..." She stumbled over the words. "Because people knew if they protected them, they would be killed too." She fought against her tears again, intent on staying quiet.
"I'd rather die protecting my sister, than live as a coward," Roddin said. "Mother and father felt the same way. I miss them too, and in time I'll mourn for them, but I know their end was a proud one. They are with Amman now, basking in His light and peace."
"Thank you," Eryn said.
"You don't need to thank me," he replied. "Anyone who wouldn't take care of their little sister deserves their place with Heden."
"He deserves to be with Heden," she said.
"Yes," Roddin agreed.
"Roddin?" Eryn said again.
"Yes?"
"How do you think they found out about me? You said one of the villagers told them. Who? And how did they know? I haven't used the Curse, only a few times in the attic, and maybe once or twice by the berry bushes when no one else was around."
Her brother was silent. He stared up into the night sky. He looked down at the grass beneath their feet. When he finally looked at her, he had tears in his eyes.
"Edwyn told them," he said. "After I told him."
Eryn's breath caught in her throat, and she took a step away from her brother. She felt like she was suffocating, and there was nowhere to turn for air.
"Why would you do that?" she croaked.
Bound (The Divine, Book Four) Page 33
