Souls of Aredyrah 3 - The Taking of the Dawn (24 page)

Children were yanked from their parents’ arms
and sent to a group of their own. Infants lay squalling upon the
ground, while toddlers clung to children only slightly older than
themselves. Pre-adolescents were corralled, boys and girls
separated. Adult males made up yet another group. They were the
most heavily guarded.

Whyn eyed the prisoners from atop his horse,
sorry now that he had not joined in the fray. It had not been much,
the Guard had described it as little more than archery practice,
but still, it might have been fun.

A chair had already been brought for him.
Though Whyn had no intention of lingering in the vile place, he was
not one to give up his comforts. Servants had laid out a tapestry
rug decorated with swirls of red, black, and gold. Upon it sat the
chair, its seat draped in red velvet, its back and legs carved from
the finest mahogany.

Whyn eased out of his saddle and strolled
toward the chair. The Commander followed at his back. A groom
quickly gathered their horses’ reins and led them aside, while a
serving girl in a nearly transparent gown brought Whyn a goblet of
wine. She curtsied and stepped aside as a boy offered him an
assortment of fruits, cheeses, and meats, all displayed on a highly
polished platter.

Whyn sat, then took a swallow of wine and
handed the goblet to the nearest servant. He rested his elbows on
the arms of the chair and ran his eyes over the prisoners assembled
before him.

“This is
all
?” he asked.

“Yes, Lord,” the Commander replied.

Whyn sighed. “Very well,” he said with a
flick of his hand. “The girls first.”

A line of adolescent girls were marched
forward and made to face him. He looked them over, but with little
enthusiasm. He pointed offhandedly to one with pale hair and eyes.
“That one pleases me,” he said. A guard holding a bowl of dye
dipped his fingers and painted a bright blue streak upon the girl’s
forehead.

Whyn moved his attention down the line. He
gestured toward a raven-haired girl with a murderous expression
plastered across her face. “She will serve the reconstruction
effort well enough.” Again a line was painted on her forehead, but
this time it was black rather than blue. Next to her a girl was
painted with a streak of green, a serving girl, and beyond her one
was marked with red, a breeder.

On and on Whyn singled out girls from the
line. Before long their terrified expressions came to reveal that
of understanding: Those that had been painted were the lucky ones.
Though their futures would not be pleasant, those that received no
paint would have no futures at all.

After those chosen were separated from those
who were not, Whyn ordered the group of women brought before him.
When he was finished with them, he then made selections from the
group of boys. He felt uneasy at the pleasure he took in it, but he
knew it was her pleasure, not his.

At last the men were brought before him. He
felt a surge of anticipation.

Where is the leader? Him first
.

Whyn grinned. “Let us first guess who he is,”
he told her. He moved his eyes down the line, resting his gaze on
each man individually. Although most made no effort to disguise
their contempt, he had little difficulty selecting the leader
amongst them.

“That one,” he said, nodding toward a
handsome young man glowering at him with kohl-lined eyes.

Yesssss, of course.
Whyn felt her
delight.
Ah…but he is pretty, is he not?

“Yes, very,” Whyn said.

I should like to play with him
.

Whyn cringed, but made every effort to
disguise his revulsion. He knew all too well what she meant; she
had played with him often enough. But what she had in mind for the
handsome young Shell Seeker was different. And for the first time
in a long time he felt compelled to say the one word he knew would
bring him more suffering. “No.”

Her fury swept through his veins like acid.
You shall pay for your disrespect
, she said.
But no need
for the others to see you grovel. Later, after I am finished with
the boy.

Whyn gritted his teeth. “I will not do as you
desire with this one.”

She laughed, a laugh so cruel it twisted him
to the core.
You will, and I shall enjoy watching you do it. Now
bring him to me. The Commander may choose from the rest.

“Commander,” Whyn barked. “Escort the leader
to me. You may make the selections from the rest. We are
leaving.”

Lyal was cut from the line and dragged before
the King. With his hands still bound at his back he was forced to
kneel. His face was shoved toward Whyn’s feet where he was made to
press his lips upon them. The young man was hers now. And there was
nothing Whyn could do about it.

Back to ToC

Part Three:
Quickenings

Chapter 20: The Writing on the
Walls

A
licine marched
toward the barn, guilt gnawing at her insides. Ever since she’d
learned of the Gathering, and had baited Eyan and Dayn over it,
she’d felt miserable. That, along with the fight she’d had with her
brother, had brought her nothing but worry. She knew she had a
right to her opinion, there was always more than one side to an
argument, but if she wanted to clear the air, and have the company
of her brother or her cousin any time soon, she knew she would have
to offer an apology.

She set her teeth, trying to maintain some
resolve. If apologies had to be made, she should probably start
with Eyan. He didn’t know enough to take a stand on anything, and
was probably more forgiving than Dayn.

She yanked open the barn door and stepped
inside. It was dark and stuffy, and she couldn’t imagine why Eyan
would want to spend so much time there. She hadn’t seen him since
dinner the evening before, he’d only popped in for a quick bite,
then had left to do his chores, but by morning it was clear his bed
had not been slept in. Vania assured her this was not unusual; Eyan
frequently chose the solitude of the barn over the comforts of his
bed. But as Alicine scrutinized the barn’s shadowy recesses, she
could not help but wonder, was he up to something she’d just as
soon not know about?

She stepped in further. “Eyan? You in here?”
she called. But there was no response. She glanced from side to
side, but saw no sign of him, only farm tools left to be hung and a
floor spotted with horse manure. Alicine twisted her mouth.
Whatever Eyan was doing, it certainly wasn’t his chores.

“Eyan?”

She detected a slight rustling and turned her
eyes to the planks above. “You might want to get yourself down here
and finish your chores,” she said. “Just because your father left
doesn’t mean he won’t come home early.”

That should do it
, she thought to
herself. She tilted her head, certain she heard a
huff
followed by the scent of an extinguishing candle.

Eyan leaned over the edge of the loft. “Ye
haven’t seen him, have ye?”

“No, I only meant—” She sighed. “Come down,
will you?”

Eyan slid down the ladder. A cloud of dust
rose from his feet as they hit the ground. He turned to face her.
“What d’ ye want?” he asked, but his tone sounded rather cross.

Alicine chewed her lip, then gathered her
pride. She had never cared for apologies, especially when she had
to make them.

“Listen,” she said as casually as she could,
“I’m sorry I pitted you against Dayn in this whole Gathering issue.
You don’t have to
want
to go if you don’t want to. But if
you don’t, then you should at least tell your parents.”

Eyan crossed his arms and studied the ground.
“I d’know if I want to or not. I don’t really know what it
means.”

“It means you’re going to meet hundreds of
people at once, and there’s going to be a lot of scrutiny.”

His eyes turned to hers. “What scrutiny?”

“Like…lots of questions, maybe some
accusations about your eye color and why your parents kept you
hidden these past nineteen years.”

Eyan remained silent.

“Didn’t your parents tell you what to expect?
I mean, they talked to you about it, right?”

“Mother said I’d make friends, but Father
seemed worried.” Eyan creased his brow, considering it. “I’d like
to have friends. I never had any real ones before, just pretend
ones.”

“Pretend ones?”

“Aye. I make up friends, draw ‘em on
parchment. But they’re not real.”

“May I see them?” Alicine asked. She had
always appreciated paintings and sketches, mainly because it was a
skill she could never hope to acquire. Though she could sew a fine
stitch and was well-gifted in herbology, to take a simple writing
tool and recreate a tree, or a bird, or someone’s face, was simply
beyond her.

Eyan’s cheeks blushed. He dawdled for a
moment, then said, “Well, I s’pose you can see some, but not all of
‘em, all right?”

Alicine smiled. “All right, some then.”

Eyan pointed his finger toward the loft.
“They’re up there,” he said, and turned and led her to the
ladder.

Eyan took the lead up the rungs while Alicine
followed. “They’re in the back,” he said over his shoulder when he
had reached the top. He scrambled onto the platform and grabbed a
fire stick from a nearby box. “Wait here though, aye?”

Alicine perched near the top as Eyan
disappeared to the back of the loft. She could hear him shuffling
around, but the darkness denied her a clear view of what he was
doing.

He soon returned with a lit lantern. He
reached for her hand and helped her navigate the last few
rungs.

With lantern in hand the back of the loft was
lit in a golden glow, drawing Alicine’s eyes to a plank table
covered with numerous bowls of dye powders, chalk, and liquid
colors. Dozens of pictures could be seen tacked to the walls, but
there were a few spaces where some appeared to have been
removed.

“Oh…my,” Alicine exclaimed. She walked slowly
toward the wall, drinking in the images as she approached. Eyan
followed, raising the lantern to further illuminate the
gallery.

Alicine paused, running her fingers gently
over some of the pictures, leaning in to study others more
closely.

“D’ye like ‘em?” Eyan asked.

“Yes, but…” Alicine turned to face him.
“Where have you seen people like this?”

Eyan lowered the lantern, the happy
expression on his face vanishing with the light. “I know I
shouldn’t be drawin’ demons. Does it make me a sinner d’ye
think?”

“No, of course not. I just wondered where
you’ve seen people like this, that’s all.”

“I found pictures of ‘em on a wall in a
cavern past the brook. I know it’s wrong, but I like the way they
look. Some I copied, but others I made up.”

Alicine returned her attention to the
drawings. Most were on parchment, but others were on animal skins
or shavings of bleached bark. Each held the image of a different
person: male, female, young and old; all were beautiful, but even
more disturbing, all were blond-haired and pale-eyed.

Alicine moved down the wall, surveying more
and more portraits. Eyan held up the lantern and followed along
behind her.

Alicine halted with a sudden intake of
breath. “What about him?” she asked, pointing to one image in
particular. “Was he there, in the cave, too?”

Eyan leaned in, examining the image in
question. “Aye. He’s there.”

Alicine felt dizzy as she stared at the
image. Her mind could barely grasp what her eyes were seeing. There
before her was a painting of a red-haired boy. And he was staring
back at her with bright violet eyes.

* * * *

Alicine barreled through the front door,
letting it slam against the wall at its back. “Dayn!” she shouted.
“Come quick and see!”

Dayn jumped from the bench and reached for
the knife next to the potatoes he was about to peel.

“What is it?” he exclaimed. His eyes darted
toward the door. “Who’s here?”

“No one,” Alicine responded. “Just come and
see.”

Dayn set down the knife with a scowl. “Don’t
scare me like that,” he grumbled.

“Come
on
!” Alicine grabbed his hand
and pulled him from the bench.

“Lands, what’s goin’ on?” Vania asked from
across the room. An armload of laundry was in her arms, and her
startled eyes were peering over it.

“Nothing, auntie,” Alicine called back
breathlessly.

“A lot o’ carryin’ on over nothin’,” Vania
muttered. “Bout sent me to the grave.”

“Sorry,” Alicine said as she swept out the
doorway with Dayn in tow.

“Let go my hand,” Dayn groused when they
reached the barn.

Alicine dropped it, but grabbed his sleeve
and continued to pull him along.

“And let go my sleeve. God, Alicine. What’s
going on?”

She grinned. “You’ll see.” Then she led him
toward the ladder.

Eyan peeked over the edge and watched as Dayn
and Alicine ascended the rungs. He glanced over his shoulder
nervously, then took Alicine’s hand when she reached the top. After
she had stepped safely aside, Eyan offered Dayn his hand as
well.

“I can handle it,” Dayn said gruffly as he
crawled onto the platform.

“Sorry,” Eyan mumbled.

“For what?” Dayn asked. He slapped the dust
and straw from his pants legs. “I only meant I was at the top and
didn’t need any help.” He sighed with annoyance. “What is it you
dragged me up here to see, Alicine?” he asked. “A trunk full of
dresses or something equally important?”

Alicine curled her lip, then took the lantern
from Eyan’s hand and marched to the back of the loft. Raising the
light, she nodded toward the portraits tacked to the walls and
said, “Look.”

Dayn’s jaw went slack as his eyes moved over
Eyan’s drawings. “What the—”