Season of Hytalia

by Jennifer Arntson

  Looking deep into the tree line for movement, my eye noticed something few would appreciate. At the edge of the forest stood tall, ripe thistle. I turned the horse to confirm my suspicion. As far as I could see, the robust weed grew healthy and proud. Like many weeds, they thrived earlier than friendly growth. It would also be hardest to control until the middle of Talium. Thousands upon thousands of people lay starving with a food source growing enough to feed them all.

  My thoughts were interrupted by a girl covered with dirt. “Would you like to buy one, miss?” She held out a smooth river stone in her hands.

  “It is lovely. What would I use it for?” I asked, making sure to keep my wits about me. Given the state of the lands, her distraction could be a well-planned attack for my things. I’d witnessed thieves pull similar tricks on Citizens in the valley. What I carried meant little to me, but for someone who had nothing, what I had would be worth killing for.

  “For Volaris, the river god,” she said. “He likes the smooth ones best. You just put the name of the person who died on it and cast it into the river so he’ll know to release their spirit. Otherwise, they’ll be tormented beneath the water forever.” She shuddered.

  “How much?” I asked, checking again to make sure we were not being watched. She didn’t have to be in on a con in order to turn me into a victim.

  “I don’t want money, miss. Don’t mean nothing. There are no shops.”

  “Then what do you want to trade?”

  “Do you have any water? Or bread?”

  “Where are your parents?”

  She shrugged and looked down soberly at her shoeless feet.

  “How long have you been out here?” I wiped the rain off my face.

  “Since the gods shook the ground,” she mumbled. “My father worked on the new road, and I wanted to see it so I followed him and hid in the trees.”

  “Where was your mother?”

  “At home with my sisters.”

  “Didn’t she notice you were gone all day and come for you?”

  The little girl scratched the back of her head. “I’ve got seven sisters. One less is one best,” she rhymed.

  “What?”

  “My mother liked it when we played outside. I am the only one who didn’t mind the rain. Said I’m her favorite ’cause I stayed out from under her feet. One less is one best.”

  “Where was your house?” I asked, fearing I already knew the answer.

  She pointed to the fresh soil.

  “You’re alone?”

  She nodded.

  I dug through my bag and found a roll. “Here.”

  “Really?” She gasped. “You want this?”

  I accepted her offer.

  Some may have dismissed my role in the event as an exercise in charity. Anyone in her circumstance certainly would consider the bargain a deal of a lifetime. But for me, I’d just made my first trade.

  “Thank you,” I said, letting my purchase fall into the sack.

  The little girl darted into the shadows of the makeshift homes before I could say another thing. I called out for her, and she paused long enough for me to recognize the fear in her eyes. She dashed through draping fabrics, popping up a few feet further with the roll wedged between her teeth. The little girl leaped over an obstacle and disappeared into the mess of wood and tethered cloth.

  Clever girl.

  I continued on with her circumstance turning over in my mind, thankful for the privilege of having the Resistance to call home. Being part of a community turned out to be more of a blessing than I gave it credit for. Any of these people would kill to have the security of what Nik built. Even with the best of intentions, it wasn’t possible to invite everyone there. The camp, wedged between hills, caves, and canyons, would never be big enough for the entire population or what remained. By the look of it, Ashlund didn’t seem big enough either.

  A bit further down the narrow throughway, I came to understand why it appeared abandoned. People weren’t hiding; they collected at the new road, crowded together, nearly shoulder to shoulder, all the way to the river’s recrafted bank. Much like the Atchem Festival, the whole of Ashlund gathered here. Unlike the Festival, no one in attendance celebrated. They faced the river, waiting as if in a trance, giving no clues as to where they’d come from or why they had come.

  I casually checked my things to make sure everything I carried stayed hidden from view by the hem of my cloak. “Excuse me,” I said, earning the attention of a woman with ratted hair.

  “No! You can’t ride that thing through all these people!” she hacked.

  “I’m not trying to get through. Just curious as to why we’ve gathered.”

  “It’s the Remembrance Gathering for the dead and missing.” Her rough voice gave way to a coughing fit. “Go over there, and the Authority will add your family’s name to the list, not that it matters. You’re too late.”

  “Too late?”

  “Yeah, the prayers of the High Priest have been done already. You can submit the names individually, but the gods don’t listen to anyone other than him. He said yesterday he would only bother the gods with our grief once. Like I said, you’re too late. I’d suggest bleeding yourself and pray one of the others takes your soul instead.”

  “Thanks for the tip,” I mumbled as she turned from me.

  Seeing the booth in the distance, I led the horse west. A guard in clothes four sizes too big for his frame was standing under a sign that said Missing.

  “Can you help me?” I asked, feeling strange about addressing a Citizen so casually.

  “Probably not.”

  He didn’t need to be rude.

  “I’m looking for someone.”

  “If you haven’t noticed, everyone is,” he sneered. “Just put the missing’s name on the board. If they see someone’s searching for them, well then, you might find them.”

  “Listen to me, you insect,” I kicked his rickety booth, “the person I seek is Lord Calish. I know he lives. Where is he?”

  “Who wants to know?” He scratched his chest.

  “His wife,” I lied.

  The man panicked. “You’re Lord Calish’s wife? I didn’t know you’d married; I mean, I thought you died.” He took his pen and ran around to the board. “I’m so sorry, ma’am.” He quickly scribbled out the third line from the top. Merci Haltins, bride-to-be of Lord Calish Bartold disappeared under an inked mess. I will admit, seeing most of that gone made me feel better, yet I felt a twinge of guilt for giving false hope to anyone wanting to find her.

  “Please forgive me, Lady Bartold.” He bowed deeply. “How may I honor your house?”

  “Tell me where he is.”

  “He’s over there on the stage with the other officials and the Priest. Should I send someone to get him for you, my lady?”

  “No, just tell me where he is staying.”

  “All the Authority officials are staying in the neighborhood at the end of the road.” He pointed beyond the one that led to the river. “Would you like an escort?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “You might get robbed, ma’am. Everyone is acting like Scabs; it’s disgusting.”

  “Tell me, how did all the officials get houses next to each other like that?”

  “They made people leave ’em.” He shrugged.

  “How do you feel about that?”

  “Hey, everyone’s got to find a place to sleep, right?”

  “Someone who had a house became homeless because of the superiority of the Authority.”

  “Exactly!” He winked.

  I pulled my horse away from his booth and followed the directions he gave to the compound. Knowing I wouldn’t be permitted inside without invitation, I waited outside in an inconspicuous spot. My parents trained us to watch and anticipate the actions of others, a skill more useful when I understood the rules of the world. Things changed, and the basic assumptions went with them. In the past, there were differences of appearance based on your status. One that
defined your position in life, with little exception. Reclaimers, Citizens, Authority, and the Religious stayed within expectation until recently. As I observed the people, there seemed to be two identities left: the Authority and everyone else. The devastation took all other titles along with the lives that had been built in the valley.

  As the sun rested behind the horizon, people meandered back to their makeshift shelters against the foundations of ransacked buildings, across piles of random belongings and the road. For some, home became the space laid under tattered blankets. For those who happened to be part of the elite, an armed guard opened a gate to welcome them into their newly acquired residence. I positioned myself in such a way that if Calish had any intention of going in there, he’d have to pass me to do it. I waited so long, any anticipation I had about seeing him had passed, and all rehearsed comments I intended to make were perfected (as long as he didn’t respond).

  The masses were gone, and the road became calm. The only ones to share it with me, other than my sleeping horse, were the river cats scurrying after rats and vermin in the moonlight. Reconciled to my failure, and convincing myself Nik’s vision of my finding Calish was wrong, I almost gave up when I spotted his familiar gait. If not for the way he moved, I would have missed him altogether. He wore a weighted cloak and a wide-brimmed hat, careful to hold both in place as he walked through the drowning rain. I’d found who I’d come for. I dismounted from my horse and strolled into the path he would take.

  “Lord Calish!” someone called out and ran to him.

  I ducked back into the shadows, and with my heightened sense of hearing, listened to his otherwise private conversation.

  “Oh, hey.” Calish held out his hand, and the other guy shook it.

  “Sir, I wish to offer you my condolences”—he put his hands on his hips—“I saw Merci’s name on the board earlier.”

  “Thank you. I’ve been told by the Observers most were killed instantly. They never felt a thing.” He shifted his feet.

  “Is that right?” The man squeezed Calish’s shoulder. “The gods were merciful then.”

  “It would seem so.”

  “Well, I bet your grandfather already has some lucky lady all picked out for you. You won’t be on the market long.”

  Is this the way to comfort someone after losing their bride-to-be? Remind him of another waiting in line? No wonder Calish had a fiancée so quickly.

  It took everything I had not to get back on my horse and run back to camp. I vowed not to do it, though, at least not until I’d assessed him. Only then would I be free to continue on with my life.

  Nik saw it. I have to do this.

  And what if I didn’t?

  “Are you coming by this evening?” Calish’s voice broke me from my query.

  “Wouldn’t miss it. It’s a noble thing you’re doing for the Officers, sir. We’re lucky to have your leadership during these trying times.”

  The man, distracted by someone down the street, cut the conversation short. “Tonight, then.”

  “Tonight.” Calish bowed, finally allowed to make his way home.

  When he got closer, I intercepted him, leading the horse to block the view of the neighborhood guards. “Calish,” I hissed.

  He stepped back, weapon drawn. “You will address me as Lord Bartold,” he corrected. “Don’t you ever approach me again, woman!”

  I threw my hood back to expose my face.

  “Una?” He sheathed his blade. “Oh gods, I’m so sorry!”

  I bowed low, albeit sarcastically. “My apologies to the great and auspicious Lord Bartold.”

  Calish grabbed the reins and quickly pulled them over my horse’s head. “Get on your horse,” he ordered, and even though I suddenly wanted to leave, I did as he commanded.

  He led us to the iron gate of his residence.

  “Lord Bartold.” The guards at each side stood at attention.

  “At ease, gentlemen.” He dismissed their attempts to please him so easily. As we walked through the neighborhood, everyone we passed addressed him similarly. He must have repeated the phrase “at ease” a dozen times before we reached the place where he permitted me to dismount. Handing the horse off to one of his servants, he instructed him to take the saddlebags to the guest room on the second floor. He grabbed the back of my elbow and forcibly led me into the house.

  As soon as the door was shut, he took off his hat and cloak and hung them on the entry hook. The house was huge and beautiful. It made Blue’s house look like a Scavenger home in comparison. Crafted statues and vases stood on pedestals and display cases as if the house had been built around it. Magnificent rooms opened into more luxurious spaces beyond their decorated entries, each large enough to house generations of families.

  This is a house?

  “Are you going to wear your cloak all night?” He stood with his hand ready to receive it.

  “I’m not sure,” I said, still gawking at the size of it all. “If I take it off, will I be able to find it again?”

  “Una,” he held out his hands, “just give me the stupid thing.”

  I unbuttoned my cloak, and the button charm that Kasish made for me fell on the floor. Calish bent down and picked it up. “What is this?” He turned it, studying the frizzy ball of cut yarn from all sides.

  “A gift.” I snatched it from him and put it in my pocket for safekeeping.

  He pressed his lips together as I hung my cloak next to his. “Are you hungry?”

  He led me through one of the parlors into a room designed for a regal table covered in food. Flashbacks of the Dining Hall flickered in my memory. I clutched the side of the table, remembering the smell of the room and the coarse stitching of the robes they forced me to wear.

  “What’s the matter, Una?”

  “Nothing, just a little dizzy,” I lied.

  “Here, sit. I’ll get you something to drink.” He ran off and brought back a glass filled with water. “I’m so happy to see you.” He twisted my hair around his finger and tucked it behind my ear.

  “You do know that there are people starving out there?” I gazed upon the tiers of food spilling off the edge of white plates with golden edges.

  “You have no idea how hard I’m working on that.”

  “It shows.” The water held hints of mint and citrus in the aftertaste.

  “I didn’t choose this house,” he whispered.

  “No, you stole it.”

  Calish stood and rubbed his face with his hands. “You don’t know what’s going on, so don’t talk like you do.”

  I folded my arms across my chest, waiting for his permission to speak. For all I had rehearsed, my plans did not unfold the way I intended. As such, I chose a different strategy. I’d give him the opportunity to defend the actions he felt needed it. What questions would he answer without first being asked? Which ones haunted him or riddled him with guilt? I knew what I wished to hear, but what would he feel compelled to address?

  His expression softened as he lowered himself into the chair next to me. “I’m sorry, Una. Can we start over, please?”

  “From where? From when you found me in a river basket? Or when you said you loved me? Or from the time I told you about the pregnancy?”

  There are so many places to begin.

  “Stop!” He pulled himself closer to me in his chair. “None of this is real, all right? I’m still me!”

  “Which ‘me’ is it? Is it the one who said he loves me or the engaged man of four days ago?”

  “You didn’t even give me a chance to explain! You…you ran away like you always do!”

  “If I didn’t, you’d be buried under a hillside, and I’d never know the truth.”

  He sighed. “What truth?”

  “You don’t want children.”

  Calish’s voice raised. “With her! I didn’t want children with her.” He pushed off the chair and stormed around the house, calling up the stairs for various people by name.

  “What are you doing?” I sh
outed.

  “I’m making sure no one else is here,” he yelled as he made the loop back in a different room, only to reappear near the front door again. Apparently, the house was too large for every room to have a single entrance.

  I should have taken his hands and assessed him, but I hesitated. He’d wounded me deeply, and he deserved to know it. A part of me wanted to make him hurt as I had, but I doubted anything I could do would ever measure up.

  He sat in front of me, his face more determined than before. “I know you’re upset with me, but you have to believe me when I tell you you’re wrong.”

  “You’re a liar. And a thief. You’re nothing but a—”

  “Gods damn it, Una.” He threw himself back in the plushly covered dining chair. “Then why are you here? If you don’t want me to tell you the truth, then why come here at all? Is camp that bad? Are Mother and Father not enough for you?”

  “You bastard.” I stood up and hurled the glass against the wall. It shattered into a thousand pieces, leaving streaks like waterfalls down the detailed paper. “You left me! You took Reinick’s offer without even asking me! I’ve lost everything, but that didn’t matter, not if I had you. And now we’re here in your stolen house with rooms overflowing with food and useless trinkets. You traded me for this—”

  “No. No, you’ve got it all wrong—”

  “You were supposed to come back, Calish! You said you would, but you didn’t,” I screamed, tears streaming down my face. “You lied to me! The whole time, all you did was lie!”

  He got up and tried to pull me into him, but I struggled free from his embrace.

  I caught my breath, taking a single step back from him. “Of all the things this life denied me, you were the only thing that mattered.”

  For a moment, we didn’t speak. Time slowed as his shoulders dropped and his lips, once pulled tight with intentions to defend himself, released into troubled expression. The man before me broke, and the tender one made himself known. He closed the distance between us, and I turned my face away. I had no idea how angry I’d become. The emotion grown in the rains of Hytalia festered beneath the surface, and seeing him made the wound taut. Hearing his voice split it open, and the ugliness made itself known. The pain I felt wasn’t fair, but at least he seemed burdened by it, which brought little justice for his crime against my heart. I could breathe. Finally.