by Sara Gaines
She remained quiet for several seconds. Whether it was exhaustion or painful memories that forced her eyes closed, I did not know. I said nothing, fearing any sound that slipped from my mouth would shatter my chance at learning her past. Urging her to continue was a risk I was not willing to take.
Finally, and with obvious difficulty, she spoke again. “For the longest time, I met no trouble in my service. There was never a complaint directed at me from my lord, and the other servants left me alone once I made it clear I could fight. Then, one day after I had been there for so long that I barely remembered what life was like without answering to a master, everything fell apart. I was arrested one morning when I was saddling a horse in order to deliver a message to a nearby merchant’s estate.
“Without being told anything, I was thrown in the dungeon and my face was tattooed. I was tortured: whipped, beaten, starved, and anything else you’d like to imagine. My entire life crumbled, and I suffered every torment without even knowing why. Eventually, the pain was so great that my mind ceased to function. It was as if my body were no longer my own.
“I had heard stories of soldiers experiencing things so horrible that they were unable to remember what they had seen or what torment they had suffered. I didn’t understand how that was possible until it happened to me, until my own memory blocked out fragments of what my body was put through. Now, I am only reminded of the actual torture when I catch a glimpse of the scars riddling my body. The branding, however….” Her hand started to drift toward the mark, but she caught herself. “Reserved for those who commit heinous crimes directly against the noble family, it was a punishment I will never be able to forget, no matter how I might try. In branding me, Lord Moray made me a vanjiv—the greatest punishment that can be given to a Dakmoran.”
A stillness settled over the woman beside me. Ori spoke, unwilling to wait for Kahira to continue at her own pace.
“What was your crime? What did you do to suddenly force your lord to punish you if you claim your years of service were so loyal?”
“I was charged with murder.” To my surprise, Kahira laughed slightly, a haunted chuckle that bounced from tree to tree, surrounding and consuming everything. “And yes, it is because of me that someone died. Who it was is of no concern to you.”
“You killed a member of your lord’s family? Then why weren’t you executed?” Ori’s blunt question was met by a huff from Kahira.
“Lord Moray decided to delay my execution, locking me in the stocks to provide a spectacle for his subjects. The people of the city tormented me in whatever ways they could for several days. One night, when I was almost ready to beg for death, another servant came to me. She had been a valued friend in the castle, and she managed to steal the key to the stocks. Thankfully, she was at least able to provide proper clothing for my escape, even though she could gather no food or other supplies.
“Broken, starving, and with a sickening anger flowing through me, I made my way north as soon as I was outside the castle walls. It was the only direction I could go; the marks I received guaranteed I would be turned into Dakmoran authorities should I seek aid from a citizen. There were fewer people in the north—too many feared the clans who would occasionally venture down from the mountains—which meant there were fewer chances I would be turned in. Eventually, my body was unable to keep moving and I collapsed.”
The pieces were falling into place.
“That’s when the hunter found you.”
For the first time since she began, Kahira looked up from the hound lying across her feet. “Yes, Aleana, and that is the only reason my life was saved. He and his wife knew what the marks freshly placed on my flesh meant, and yet, they took me in and nursed me until I awoke several days later. Even when I regained consciousness, they never once asked me what I had done. I stayed with them until I was well enough to travel farther north. They offered to allow me to stay, but they had done so much for me that I could not risk their lives by staying with them longer than absolutely necessary. So, with the puppy they gave me, I eventually escaped Dakmoran territory, found Taewin, and have been traveling ever since.”
“Kahira….” There were so many things I wanted to say, but they only seemed to die in my throat as I tried to voice them.
Ori’s voice drowned out my own. “That does not explain why those men were afraid of you. When they saw your brand, every one of them dropped their guard for a brief instant.”
“Yes….” Kahira was struggling for something to say, her brow creasing in frustration. “You must understand, the first time I truly traveled on my own was when I made my first trek south in order to avoid another harsh winter. Foolish as I was, I returned to Dakmor, hoping to settle in familiar land. I tried to keep the mark on my face hidden, but of course I failed.
“I was nestled in a tavern within a small city’s walls when a few Dakmoran soldiers walked in. Despite my efforts, they saw me, and whether it was because of the tattoo or the fact that I was alone, I will never know, but they pulled me out onto the street. I knew immediately of their sinister intentions and with Enza confined to the stables with Taewin, I knew I had a good chance of falling victim to the three men. Determined not to die without a fight, I unsheathed my knife—the only weapon I had.”
As she spoke, my hand wrapped around the handle of the knife Kahira had passed on to me.
“The men clearly did not think I could actually fight, and one of them grabbed for me, never even bothering to draw his sword. I drove my knife into his chest – the first fatal blow I had ever delivered. The other men immediately drew their swords, ready to seek vengeance for their friend. Knowing my knife would be almost useless against two swords, I yanked the sword from the dead soldier’s scabbard. A full fight broke out in the deserted streets. Still not entirely comfortable with a blade in my hand, I now carry several small scars from that encounter. Eventually I managed to injure one of the remaining men pretty severely, but not before my sleeve was torn. The pause in the fight caused by the man’s wound gave his comrade time to see the brand on my arm. I immediately turned to flee, hoping the wounded soldier would distract his healthy friend. I only let myself think I was safe once I had ridden away from the city until the sun rose again.
“For days I hid in the woods, no longer able to properly hide the mark on my arm. Of course, it wasn’t long before I needed supplies. Using my cloak to hide as much of my body as possible, I followed a man with a tattoo spread across his cheek to a small inn that seemed to have no qualms serving those generally shunned by society. Ashamed of the brand on my arm, ashamed of what I was, though growing more comfortable with my own tattoo, I sat quietly in the main room after finding food and securing a bed for the night. Listening to the conversations of the men gulping down tankards of ale, my heart skipped a beat when I realized one of the men was talking about my encounter with the Dakmoran soldiers. The Dakmorans had placed a bounty on my head, calling for the death of the only living vanjiv.
“Unwilling to risk my life to sleep in a warm bed, I rode from the city that very night. I believed I would avoid trouble if I stayed clear of the larger cities. However, there were bandits on the road one day who would not let me pass. Without even thinking, I reached for my knife, exposing my arm. Recognition lit up their eyes, and I knew the price on my head would keep me from passing safely. Thinking I would not be able to fight off the whole group, I fled once more, hoping to outrun the soldiers. But I came up with a plan as I rode.
“Knowing I wouldn’t be able to outrun the men, I decided to try and pick them off one by one. Grabbing my bow, I notched an arrow and spun Taewin around, riding straight toward the men who intended to kill me. Hunting had given me confidence with the weapon, but I never needed my skills more than at that moment. As I rounded a curve in the road, the men came into view. Without slowing Taewin, I released the arrow, relief flooding me as I found my mark. One of the men fell from his horse, and that was when I suddenly knew I was finished running—I knew I could wi
n.
“One man got away, but I buried the rest that night, taking the daggers from them I still use today. After that, I left my arm exposed, almost daring anyone to challenge me. I didn’t second-guess that decision until I was faced with a pair of bandits just before I reached the eastern plains. To my surprise, they greeted me as if they knew me, offering the sign of peace. Curious, I found the next tavern, and with my arm covered once more, I sought to learn what had made those men let me pass. Upon seeing I was a woman traveling alone and marked above the brow as a murderer, the woman who ran the tavern asked if I carried a brand. Not sure what answer would keep me safe, I inquired as to why that knowledge was necessary. Of course, she was no fool and knew my lack of an answer was just as good as an affirmation of her guess. But, as shocking as it was, I learned that I had somehow morphed into a legend.
“The soldier who had escaped began what would eventually lead to the story that has allowed me to travel openly amongst highwaymen ever since. Making me out to be some sort of goddess, the man told of a vanjiv marked with a tattoo above her brow, riding a solid black horse and accompanied by a vicious hound. While I was hiding in the woods, that story grew until almost every bandit had heard of me. Most of them respected me based only on the stories they heard. Many of the stories never happened, but I found that if I did not deny them, very little trouble would come my way. However, it was not only the bandits who were whispering about me, but the Dakmoran soldiers as well.
“Each day, I trained to sharpen the fighting techniques I already possessed, ready to defend myself when the need arose. Exposing my arms in the warmer climate, I ensured that I would be identified, thereby drawing fights to me. Each time, I left as many alive as I could, seeing the value of building the legend that had started. I only killed when it was necessary, or when some criminal challenged me, looking to bolster his own reputation. When a man like that ended up dead, it was my reputation that grew, whether he died at the end of my blades or not. I have not entered Dakmor since, but it seems as though the stories have continued.”
The somber tone Kahira carried throughout the recalling of her past was matched with a distant look in her eyes. Watching her, I finally found my voice.
“You’ve never considered going back home? Surely you have family there waiting, wanting to know that you are still alive.”
“Dakmor contains nothing resembling a home for me.” Jaw clenched, Kahira stared at the ground. Eyes closing, she continued. “When I was in the stocks, my father visited me. He made it clear to me I was no longer considered his daughter. And as for my sister, she was not willing to help me even when I was first arrested, let alone when I was on the verge of death. I… I have reason to believe she is the one responsible for everything that happened. Even now that the pain of the betrayal has dulled, should I return, I have no doubt she would sell me for whatever gold the royal family would be willing to pay in order to torture me again.”
I found myself craving to comfort this woman now that I knew a piece of what she had gone through. Terrified, I gave in to the urge. I hesitantly reached out and placed my hand on the vambrace still tied to her uninjured arm. Even through the leather, I felt her muscles tense. Turning toward me, she slowly brought her hand to cover my own. The sudden intensity that filled her gaze poured through my body from her touch. My breathing had stopped before she spoke.
“Aleana, I told you, I have no one waiting for me.”
And in that moment, I knew I cared for Kahira far more than I should.
Chapter 15
THE darkness felt alive, as if every horror it had ever consumed were contained just beyond what was visible. I blinked, trying to force my eyes to find even a vague shape in the abyss. Forms slowly appearing around me, I wished the dark would once more swallow what it had unleashed.
There were screams. I could not tell if they were my own or those of the deformed figures thrashing at the bars of their cages. Limbs at unnatural angles, flesh barely hanging from the broken bodies exposing flashes of bleached bone, the figures reached for me. Claws of iron bit into my wrists as I fought to flee their sickening grasp, sending blood trickling slowly down my chained arms. A chilling laugh pierced my consciousness as it punctuated the moans of other prisoners chained around me.
I heard a body hit the ground near my side. I tried to see who, what, it was, and when a face finally came into focus, a scream—undeniably mine—burned as it escaped my throat. My own brown eyes stared at me.
The imposter’s lips emitted a horrible hiss. “How could you? You’ve ruined everything!”
The grotesque imitation slithered toward me. Ripples passed over its skin as it tried to maintain my shape. I fought to get away, warm crimson liquid pouring down my arms. As the figure drew nearer, the other chained figures began to chant in a demonic symphony, calling for my death. Tears flooded my eyes as I begged the creature to leave me be.
“Gone!” I shut my eyes as a clawed finger scraped down my cheek, a ribbon of blood left in its wake. “Everything gone!”
The face that had once been mine distorted into a haunting abomination, fangs gleaming as claws wrapped around my throat, crushing the scream building within.
“ALEANA!” I fought against the hands grasping my shoulders before I recognized the voice whispering harshly into my ear.
I forced my eyelids open to find Kahira staring down at me. The half-moon’s light was low, creating the same atmosphere that had flooded the dungeon featured in my nightmare. Another wave of panic coursed through my body at the comparison. My own whimper reached my ears, and I twisted my head away.
“Aleana, it’s safe.” I felt Kahira’s hand against my cheek, removing tears I had not even realized I’d actually shed. “You’re safe.”
A choked sob escaped me as I slowly accepted that the horrors I’d experienced were not real. I relaxed, my body going entirely limp as I tried to compose myself. There were no cuts at my wrists, there was no blood staining my skin, and there was no creature clawing at my flesh.
“I… I was….” I sat up, wiping the tears from my face, trying to find my voice.
“Wherever you were, it is not important now, Aleana. It’s over; you’re safe.” Kahira knelt beside me, her eyes catching mine in the dim light.
“I’m sorry.” I felt the tension return to my muscles, causing me to shake. “If I woke you up, I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t. My arm was aching, and so I was already awake when I heard you.” Kahira, seeing my shivering body, draped my blanket around my shoulders. “Look, Ori’s still asleep.”
“Thank you.” I pulled the blanket tight, trying to focus on the feeling of its softness against my skin, trying to force myself to recognize that the pain was only imagined.
Kahira offered a quick smile as she sat beside me. “There is no need to thank me, Aleana. You seemed to be in a place where I should not let you stay.”
I shuddered, unconsciously moving my body closer to the woman next to me. “It was horrible. I was locked away, my hands in chains. There were screams of people being tortured and the blood… there was so much blood.”
As soon as I realized what I had described, I looked at Kahira’s wrists. Her vambraces were removed, and with my new understanding, the scars caused by metal restraints cutting into Kahira’s flesh became apparent. I carefully reached for her unbandaged arm. I knew my nightmare was nothing compared to the one she had actually lived through. She said nothing, allowing my fingertips to run over the faint lines etched into her darker skin.
“How did you do it? How did you handle everything they put you through?” I finally looked to the woman whose arm rested in my hands, her focus entirely centered on the path my touch was taking along her wrist.
“At first….” She hesitated, her voice dropping to barely a whisper, forcing me to lean closer as she spoke. “At first it was because I thought I had a reason to not give up. Until I found out what I had been charged with, I had a reason to suffer through every min
ute of torture.”
No longer afraid of whatever horrors I imagined in my sleep, I saw the haunted glint in Kahira’s gaze return. I turned my attention away from her faint scars and looked her in the eye. “Last night, you said you killed someone.”
“I….” Kahira slowly moved her arm from my grasp. “A woman died because of me, yes.” Kahira took a deep breath, steadying herself before she continued. “She was Lord Moray’s daughter, and when she was killed, I was charged with the murder. No, she did not die at my hand, but she was killed because of me.”
Kahira had looked away. Gently, I moved my hand to her cheek, carefully willing her to turn back toward me.
“How could her death be your fault?”
I thought I caught a look of sadness before she closed her eyes, leaning her head against my hand, leaving me unable to think of anything else. Taking a shaky breath, she answered.
“If she had never met me, if she had never fallen in love with me, her father would have never killed her.”
“Kahira….”
My hand was still pressed to her cheek, and I felt the muscles in her jaw tighten. Eyes still closed, Kahira rested her hand on mine, running her thumb across my skin. The delicate press of her callused hand finally made me conscious of how close we were to each other. Her lips twitched, and I suddenly became painfully aware of the curve of her mouth. Trying to swallow, I found that my throat was too dry. Her eyes opened and with a sad lift at the corner of her mouth, Kahira stood, dropping my hand from hers. No matter how badly I wanted her to, I knew there was nothing I could do to make her stay.
KAHIRA pointed to the nearest entrance of Ariwa sprawling across the next massive hill. “The tavern should be just through the eastern gate.”
We had talked the night before about whether or not seeking information in the city would be worth the risk after the Dakmoran soldier had escaped Kahira. It had been a simple decision. More than anything, we needed to know what was going on.
