Season of Hytalia

by Jennifer Arntson

  I was so busy thinking about myself and what I faced, I never considered Calish’s perspective on all of this. Before me stood a man who never expected to have a woman to love, to share himself with, or have children of his own. I’m sure a part of him was excited for our potential, despite it being a dead-end fantasy of a delusional lover. For the time being, it was real. Of course he’d try to protect it from crumbling apart.

  The novelty hadn’t worn off for him the way it had for me. Once it did, he’d have to face the harsh reality of what lay ahead. The longer he hung on to ill-placed hope, the heavier the risk weighed around our futures. The odds were stacked against us, as they always were, yet this time our losses were unfathomable. We needed to figure a way out of this mess we caused, and trying to skirt the law to stay together was impossible. My fate was sealed and delivered in an envelope with me in tow.

  Deep down, he must have known our time would end. I was Blue’s property. My new owner was able to do whatever he wanted with me and would do so without fear. He’d never free me. First of all, it wasn’t legal; second, he’d already invested too much to simply let me be. If I could stomach it, I would just share myself with Blue and let him think this child was his. The mere thought of it made me ill. Still, I would do it if I had to if it meant protecting my family. I’ve survived worse.

  “We should tell Father, Una.”

  “I don’t want him to know.”

  He propped himself up against the closed door and moved a few fallen hay pieces with his foot. “We need his counsel.”

  My father was a smart man. After he recovered from the initial news of the pregnancy, and after his anger lightened, he might be able to help. It didn’t matter when we told him; everyone would find out sooner or later. It would be better to have some sort of a plan now instead of finding myself at the mercy of whatever decisions Blue made for me.

  “You’re right,” I conceded. “We’ll tell him tomorrow after breakfast.” I stood to grab my cloak. There was no more to discuss; if there was, I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. I wanted to get back before anyone caught on that we were gone.

  Calish gently touched my shoulder and turned me toward him. “I don’t want you to worry.” He moved a strand of my hair behind my ear.

  “I’m not worried. I’m scared,” I confessed. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

  “What do you mean ‘wasn’t supposed to be like this?’” He lifted my chin. “Have you had a vision?”

  “No,” I shook my head, “not really.” I recalled the dream I had with my child’s arms wrapped around my leg in the garden.

  He sat me down on the bale of hay and knelt in front of me. “Tell me; what did you see?”

  “I don’t know. A garden? Laughter?” I remembered the sun-kissed hair of my little one and wondered why I hadn’t tried to get a better look at them.

  Calish tilted his head. “Laughter?”

  “Like children’s laughter. There was a child who ran to me, but I only saw the top of their head. I think my mother was there, my birth mother. Then she was gone.”

  “Happy children cannot be a bad thing. Come here.” He pulled me off my seat and into his embrace. “We’ll figure something out, my love. I promise.”

  Calish’s arms felt warm and familiar as we cuddled on the barn floor propped up by a tattered bale of unraveling hay. I snuggled into his strong chest as the rain tapped on the roof above our heads. His heartbeat calmed me; nonetheless, it failed to stop my fears. I’d cried so much about this already, I simply couldn’t do it anymore today. Calish comforted me perfectly. His loving hands caressed my back, stroked my hair, and held me tightly against himself. We stayed there together until our bodies relaxed and we drifted off to sleep.

  The blackness of my mind cleared to reveal a new memory. In a dreamlike state, I observed the two of us folded into each other, nestled in the hay bedding we’d created for ourselves. Calish held me securely; his head rested to one side, propped up on a few flakes purposed into a pillow. Mine, still on his chest, rose and fell with his every breath.

  Why am I seeing this? Is it a vision?

  With nothing happening in here, I decided to explore the property instead. I reached for the door, but Marsh threw it open in a frenzied rush.

  “Shit! Una, what are you doing in here?” he yelled.

  His angered interruption startled me, and I woke up instantly, my mind clear and body alert. I scrambled to peer outside. Despite what I’d seen in the dream, Marsh was nowhere around.

  Leaving the door ajar, I tried to wake Calish. Instead of responding, he shifted to a more comfortable position on the floor and swallowed whatever drool had accumulated in his mouth. Frustrated, I moaned and shook him again. He mumbled something about Marsh and swatted at me like a disruptive fly.

  With an overwhelming feeling that it was me who was not supposed to be here, I grabbed the cloak and hurried to the house. Everyone was still asleep. Thankful for the opportunity to return unnoticed, I scrambled up into my bed and waited for whatever was to come next. Time dragged on. When I heard my father’s lips kiss my mother’s, I flinched.

  My palms were clammy, and my ears strained to hear something other than Marsh’s snoring. I watched the sun lift and pour into the house over the windowsill, not that I needed the extra light to keep a close watch on the door. The heat between my shoulder blades gave credence to my suspicion, and I wondered how hot my mark would burn before the coming situation presented itself. Then, suddenly, I felt nothing.

  Rocks smacked against the door. We weren’t expecting guests. Our home was not a destination of intention. The sound interrupted the affections of my parents flirting in their bed below. Neither of them knew anyone was coming either.

  Father emerged from their sleeping area, straightening the front of his tunic properly but leaving the hilt of his blade easily accessible. Unsure of what to do, I pulled my blankets over my head to spy downstairs without being seen.

  Marsh tugged his pants on over his unders with no attempt at subtlety. He saw me hiding and kicked my feet to get my attention. “What do you know?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Is it Blue?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He cocked a smile. “No problem, little sister. No one needs to know you’re here.” He grunted as he jumped over the ladder to the main floor.

  Father acknowledged Marsh and ordered me to stay put. “Where’s Calish?”

  “I think he’s in the barn,” I answered.

  “What’s he doing out there?” Father asked, putting on his jacket.

  “I don’t know,” I lied.

  “Keep quiet while I find out who it is.”

  Marsh dug his thistle darts out of their hiding place while Father stepped outside alone.

  Chapter 4

  My mother rushed out of bed and dressed before the door closed behind my father. She positioned herself behind the door with her shears in her grip, held high to attack. When Father rapped on the threshold to stand down, my fingers loosened on the blanket covering me.

  He opened the door enough to speak through it. “Everyone decent?” His tone was unamused and put off.

  “Yes, dear,” Mother answered, nervously setting her weapon of convenience on the counter. Marsh slid his into his pocket and blew the thistle dust off his hands.

  The door opened further. “Come in.” Father stepped to the side and extended his hand in an unenthusiastic gesture of goodwill.

  Two men entered our house. The first was an Authority man who scanned the house, noticing me immediately. Following behind was Reinick. He took off his raincoat and held it out for my father as if he were his servant. My father took it abruptly and tossed it over the chair sitting outside.

  My mother gasped. “Lord Bartold,” she quickly greeted him with a deep and fearful bow.

  “Redena,” he acknowledged her but kept his eyes narrowed at Marsh. “You still have him, eh?”

  “What do you want?
” Father closed the door and took off his jacket without answering his question.

  “Can’t a father visit his own son?”

  “It’s been what? Twenty-one years? You wouldn’t be here without a reason, so tell me what it is.”

  “You never were one for small talk, were you?” Reinick sat down at the kitchen table, lounging the best he could in a chair made of tree branches. “It’s too bad you didn’t earn more before you lost your birthright.” He picked up one of Calish’s fishing lures and studied it. “This house is kind of tight for a family of five.”

  No one, except the Lord, looked comfortable in the house. Marsh was frozen. I doubt he blinked. For the first time in my life, he actually seemed scared. Reinick’s face was not an easy one to forget. His widow’s peak and square chin were not features of ordinary men. Even in his younger days, when his hairline lay closer to his brow and time had yet to turn the occasional hair gray, his glare and intent would burn into the memory of a child who’d seen his parents gutted by his hand.

  “How about some tea, Redena?” Reinick suggested condescendingly.

  “Yes, sir.” She offered the guard a cup, but he did not answer. The man, nearly the size of Marsh, stood focused with his hand readied at his blade. His silence made it clear; he came to protect the Lord of the Authority—not to sip tea with Scavengers.

  “Where’s your son?” Reinick asked.

  “My son is right here,” Father answered.

  He shook his head in disgust. “Not him, Tawl. I’m referring to your bloodline, not the trash you picked up reclaiming.”

  My father opened the door, controlling his temper better than I’d ever seen. “You have no rights here. As such, I respectfully invite you to leave my home, sir.”

  “Redena, my tea?” Reinick held out his hand; however, my mother gave him nothing. “Oh, come on.” He let his hand drop on the table loudly.

  “It’s all right, Father,” Marsh said meekly.

  “See, the bastard has forgiven me.” He winked at the man he tried to kill years ago as a child. “Be a good boy and fetch my grandson for me.”

  When he didn’t do as he was asked, Reinick became frustrated. He sat back and cleared his throat. “You know, I could have my man find him.” He snapped his fingers, and the officer took two steps toward the door.

  “No, I’ll get him,” my brother offered, and the guard resumed his posture.

  “That’s more like it.” Reinick smiled.

  My father closed the door once he stepped outside. “Quit the charade. Why are you here?”

  “I want to talk to your son, whatever his name is.” He shifted in his chair to make sure he was not needlessly wrinkling his clothes.

  “Calish.” Mother handed him a cup of tea. “We named him Calish.”

  He snapped his fingers, pointing at her as if she’d won a prize. “Right! I almost forgot. As you can imagine, I’ve got a lot on my mind right now. Thank you for the tea, Reddie.”

  Reddie? He has a pet name for my mother?

  Reinick sipped the tepid drink while my mother sat down at the other end of the table. “I met your daughter,” he announced.

  “Where?” Father asked.

  “At the prison. I’m above those types of assignments, but we’re down a few men so I got my boots dirty. Not that you would care to know about any of that. I consider it divine intervention; after all, if I wasn’t dragged down there, I might never have met her. She makes quite an impression, that one.” He raised his eyebrows. “Don’t worry, I was able to protect her.”

  “Protect her?” Mother belted. “She came home with several broken bones, wolf bites, lacerations, and she could barely see out of one eye!”

  “Most of that was her own doing,” he scolded. “I made sure the guards left her alone—well, after the incident.” He scrunched up his face and shook his head.

  “What incident?” Father approached him, but the guard stepped in his way.

  “It was nothing.” He waved his hand as if to dismiss the accusation.

  “What happened?” Mother insisted, glancing up to where I was spying from.

  “There was an accident involving one of the guards. You must admit, she is an attractive little morsel. I’m sure she inherited that from your side,” he complimented my mother although it was not well received. “Look, we don’t know what happened exactly. The man’s throat was ripped out when we found him.”

  “What did he do to my daughter?” Father growled.

  “His condition was, shall we say, indecent, but we don’t know for sure. She was too hysterical to give us any useful details.” He saw my father’s anger and rolled his eyes. “He’s dead, Tawl. If he wasn’t, I would have killed him myself. We have rules at the Authority, and they’re well known and followed. I assure you.”

  My father braced himself against the fireplace and fixed his eyes on the flame as it consumed the log within it. It was only when Marsh came back with his other son that his trance was broken. Reinick stood up and straightened his shirt as if to impress him.

  “Calish.” He pushed the guard to the side and held his arms out to hug his grandson.

  “Good morning, sir.” He was formal, not disrespectful yet not overly polite either.

  Reinick dropped his arms to his sides and chuckled lightly. “My gods, Tawl, what have you told your family about me that they would be so rude?”

  “Contrary to what you might think, I’ve said nothing. Until today, they didn’t know you existed.” Father took a deep breath. “Boys, this is Reinick Bartold, the Lord of the Authority.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Tawl!” he chastised him. “I’m your grandfather.” He smiled proudly.

  Masking his puzzled expression, Calish slid his hands into his pockets. Marsh must have offered some warning, but what exactly, I could only imagine.

  Our father didn’t give any clues to his perception of the situation. He acted neither nervous nor impressed, but no one shared his comfort. Not even Reinick.

  “Reddie, get my grandson some tea.” He motioned to her with his finger in the air.

  That man is so arrogant.

  Without a hint of gratitude for her service, he stood and slowly circled Calish. His shiny black shoes clacked on the floor while he took measure of him like livestock about to be presented on the Seller’s Stage. When he finished his assessment, Reinick hugged him into his side. “I didn’t know I had a grandson.” He ruffled his hair.

  Calish combed it back with his fingers, unfazed by the act. “I didn’t know I had a grandfather.”

  “Ha!” He slapped his back like they were old friends. “And a quick wit as well!” He took the tea from my mother and handed it to his grandson. “Please, sit. We have something to discuss.” He sat across the table from him, leaning forward on his arms like he had a secret to share. He beamed a toothy smile, and his dark eyes twinkled. To be honest, the whole display was rather disturbing. “Do you know who I am?”

  He glanced at my father. “I thought you said you were my grandfather.”

  “Well, yes, but more importantly, I am the Lord of the Authority. Do you know what that means?” He scooted to the edge of his chair.

  Calish shook his head.

  “I am the head of the Authority. The leader. Everything that happens here falls under my direct supervision. The only man more powerful than me is the Governor.”

  “What does the Governor do?”

  “Nothing! His face is on the currency. He’s an old man who signs declarations for me. Soon, very soon, he will die, and I will assume his role.” Reinick licked his lower lip and smirked.

  Calish set his tea on the table before him, waiting calmly for this to end. Titles meant nothing to us, other than Citizen and Scab. He could have said he was a god in the flesh and it would make no difference to us.

  “Did you know I have another son?”

  “My father mentioned he had a brother.”

  Reinick shook his head, slowly realizing he had
no place in this family. He had cut my father off, and my father did the same to him. “Your Uncle Hawk is the Junior Lord of the Authority. I’ve always believed in keeping our men in positions of power and influence; it’s in our blood. It’s our birthright given by the gods themselves,” he said reverently. “However, not everyone appreciates that blessing.”

  “Are you referring to us?” Calish clarified.

  “No. I’m talking about your uncle, Hawk.”

  My father’s stance changed, and I knew his interest had been caught. “What did you do to him?”

  “Nothing,” Reinick patronized my father. “He’s just become a little soft over the seasons. I’m concerned that he may not be up for the tasks I’ve given him.” He turned his attention to Calish. “You see, my younger son has everything he could ever hope for: money, women, freedom. The problem is that he’s always had these things, so he’s not inclined to work to keep it. A healthy balance of fear and comfort encourages most men to continue to perform well. I’m afraid Hawk has a tendency to…well, let’s say he’s not reaching his full potential.” He sipped his tea.

  “What does that have to do with us, sir?”

  “Not ‘us,’ my boy. You.”

  “Then, what does any of this have to do with me?”

  Reinick leaned back in his chair. He fiddled with his cup on the table as he answered. “You have nothing. It’s not your fault. Tell me, my boy, do you know the High Priest?”

  “I know of him.”

  “Well, he has received a message from the gods.” He reached into his pocket, brought out a small black box, and set it on the table. “It seems as if your fate is about to change.” He slid the gift across the table to Calish.

  He accepted it, glancing at our mother before opening the lid. I couldn’t see it from my hiding spot, but his posture straightened by what he saw inside. He closed it, careful to leave it where either of them could reach it.

  “Maybe you’d like the opportunity to discover your full potential.” Reinick took another sip of his tea, nudging the box toward his grandson.