~3~
A New World
“Now remember, we don’t know anything about the girls,” Keaton recited again. He sat tall on his horse, his built torso set into perfect posture.
Alec, who slouched upon his horse and couldn’t care less, looked to Keaton strangely. “Why do you keep saying that?”
He shrugged his big shoulders. “Well you know. You sorta come off as intimidating and blunt.” He paused and added as an afterthought, “And rude.”
Alec couldn’t disagree and shook his head. “But still, this isn’t my first dance. I know what I’m doing.”
Keaton grinned, exposing white teeth. “Just being thorough.”
“Just being annoying is more like it.”
Keaton laughed and shook his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes. Alec wondered, as he often did, how Keaton managed such high spirits on long, hot days such as these-especially having to deal with a brother like himself.
“I wonder where they ran to,” Keaton thought aloud and glanced around as if expecting to see the young girls somewhere across the valley.
“Bruntwall isn’t far from here. Half a days trip maybe.”
“Let’s hope they’re smart enough than to run to a neighboring town. Word travels fast and witch craft,” he framed the term with sarcastic air quotes. “Is punishable in any city.”
“Let’s hope,” Alec agreed.
The village was made up of perhaps forty wooden cottages and a town center-where the brothers arrived when the sun was in the middle of the sky. It held several booths where the inhabitants had set up their goods for trading. Meat, dishes, blankets, furniture. On one end sat a poorly made corral that held a few lazy horses, on the other end was a white church house. Its point rose barely higher than the church itself. In the center of it all were two thick wooden posts set in the shape of a cross standing in the middle of a fire pit. The wood was blackened, fresh ash heaped around it.
The two exchanged uneasy looks. A burning, leaving no part of the body in tact, was usually the punishment for witches.
It wasn’t easy-striking conversations with the tense villagers-but finally, Keaton managed to interest two pretty girls, almost his age.
“We’re just traveling back from Oakland
Alec sighed on his horse impatiently, thumping his fingers on the saddle in no particular rhythm. He failed to notice how one of the girls had been watching him since Keaton approached them. There was something different about him that excited her, though she couldn’t quite place it. Something she’d never seen in any other boy before-something dangerously intriguing.
“Well did you hear what happened here just yesterday?” The slender one said, eyes bright.
“Of course they didn’t Cate,” The other cut in. “It’s only been just a day.”
Alec suppressed a smile. If only they knew just how word spread like wild fire. Keaton and Alec had already heard the story they were about to hear again from a traveler on the road just this morning. Lucky for them, Salinas
Cate ignored her and went on. “A family was accused of witchcraft! The little girl, only twelve years old, charred Coren’s arm clean off!”
“What?” The brothers said simultaneously. Alec leaned closer, finally interested. They hadn’t heard that from the traveler.
Cate nodded and an older woman shot them a dark look from one of the booths. “Caitlin Rose!” She hollered and the boys regained their composure. “I’ll not have you talking to strangers on the road!”
“I’m just telling them about the Astraky’s!” She yelled back a bit louder than necessary.
The lady shook her head with a disgusted sneer. “You mind your own business. Nothing but trouble and curses come from speaking of Lucifer’s children.”
Alec pressed his lips in a firm line to keep himself from retorting at the woman. Lucifer’s children. He rolled his eyes.
“You go home now and help with the chores!”
“If you really want to hear about it,” Cate whispered. “Go to the church; that’s where Coren lives.”
Keaton waited till the girls were out of ear shot and rose on eyebrow. “Lucifer’s children?”
Alec snorted. “Can we just hurry so we can get back? The Raviar is probably wondering what’s taking us so long.”
They left their horses in the corral and crossed the busy square to the church. Alec took the three steps in one leap; his heavy sword that hung from a sheath at his hip slapped his thigh familiarly. He opened the door without permission. Keaton followed reluctantly, shutting it quietly behind him.
Inside, the church was bigger than it looked. Rows of hard benches lined the middle of the room all the way to the elevated platform that held a wooden pulpit. Tall windows stood on either side, shedding white light through the empty church.
“Nobody’s here,” Keaton pointed out.
Alec’s eyes narrowed at the door set in the wall behind the altar, and he strutted through to the end, Keaton following behind him.
Keaton stepped ahead of Alec this time, and knocked. He saw the look Alec gave him and said, “It’s called privacy, a luxury some people enjoy.”
The door swung open then and the most gut wrenching smell smacked Keaton like a kick to the stomach, making his head spin. It chilled him down to his bones. He shivered as the hair stood erect on the back of his neck.
A tall, thin man stood in the doorway. A patient smile stretched his lips. “May I help you with something?”
The floor tilted beneath Keaton’s feet and he caught the door frame to steady himself. Both Alec and the man looked at him questioningly.
Alec’s concern didn’t last long once he saw the mans arm-or lack thereof. His forearm, along with his hand and fingers, were missing. A white bandage stained with dried blood wrapped around the end of his arm-or what could be called his elbow.
Alec gaped and the man noticed. Keaton wanted to shake his head disapprovingly, but refrained in fear of hurling with the movement.
“My arm,” he said. “is evidence of the evil that resides in this new world boys.”
“Coren,” Alec acknowledged.
He nodded once. “And you are . . .?”
Alec ignored the question. “What happened to you?”
Coren looked as if he wanted to smile, but was too tired. There were purple circles below his eyes from lack of sleep, his shoulders sagged. “Please.” He gestured to the benches. “Let’s sit and talk.” Coren looked to Keaton again and as he stepped between them to sit on the first bench he said, “Are you alright?”
Keaton took a thin breath through his mouth and steadied himself before following them to the bench. “I’ll be fine.”
“What happened?” Alec asked again, staring at Coren’s arm.
He let out a dramatically long sigh. “We had the misfortune of living amongst witches.”
Alec set his jaw tight and waited for the story, but Coren didn’t continue. He looked into his lap with a mask of sorrow. It was all Alec could do to not beat the story out of the guy. Situations like these are where his brother came in handy.
“Did you?” Keaton feigned enthusiasm best he could while holding his breath. The smell seemed to be coming off the man. Could it have been his rotting arm perhaps? “We’d like to hear the story.”
“It was the younger of the two girls, Sky. She fell on my church steps and I was trying to help her up. As soon as I grabbed onto her wrist, she stared at it like it was a piece of meat and started whispering something-almost like a chant. And right then, my arm just burnt straight to my elbow. There wasn’t any fire-only steam and ash-but you can bet it hurt like fire.” His eyes were wide with the story he recited like he was reading from a script. He shook his head. “We tried to find that little devil child, but she and her sister were being hid by their mother. She helped them escape-I know it - and I knew she was a witch too.” Coren’s eyes gleamed with grim satisfaction. “We burnt her up right on the cross just outside. That family won’t be terrorizing this village anymore. I’ve sent word to Bruntwall and Harler, but there hasn’t been any sign of them. But you can bet I will find them. I’m going to hunt them down and send them back to hell with their wretched mother.”
Keaton’s heart swelled with sympathy for the girls.
“You believe in God then?” Alec said glancing around the church. “In Heaven and Hell?”
Coren blinked. “Of course I do.”
“Interesting that God let that happen to you. I don’t know much about religion but I’ve heard enough to know that God is supposed to protect people like you. Isn’t he?”
He was taken aback by the acid in Alec’s tone and the mocking look in his eyes. “You don’t believe in him, I take it.”
He laughed once-a humorless, cruel laugh. “If there were a God, liars like you wouldn’t exist and this world wouldn’t have gone to-”
Keaton-who just barely pulled himself out of his fight to keep from passing out- finally heard Alec’s words and bumped him in the shoulder to keep him from finishing his bitter tirade.
“Liars like me?” Coren said, appalled. Keaton saw something else in his eyes. Fear. Fear of being exposed. Keaton didn’t believe him, though he wasn’t going to say so. Of course, Alec on the other hand, didn’t see the need for a polite filter that the rest of the world did.
Alec cocked a brow, challenging Coren to deny it.
“We should leave,” Keaton interjected and hauled himself unsteadily to his feat.
“Yes,” Coren nodded without looking at Alec. “Perhaps you should.”
“Thank you for letting us hear your story.” Keaton held out his right hand. Coren looked at it awkwardly and Alec laughed. Having forgotten Coren’s absence of his right arm, he dropped his hand quickly and looked at the floor embarrassed.
“Well good luck with your arm,” said Alec with a hint of amusement as he stood. “And the whole God thing.”
Keaton ran a tired hand over his face and turned towards Coren as Alec left. “I’m sorry about what happened to you. And that those witches got away,” he lied and turned to follow his brother.
“Don’t you worry,” Coren called after them. “I’ll find them and I’ll burn their bones to ash.”
As soon as the doors shut behind Keaton, he took a gasp of fresh air. His head swayed slightly as the blood returned to his face. He thankfully took in gulps of air that smelt of dirt and people as they made their way through the crowds to the corral.
“What was wrong with you in there?” Asked Alec as they mounted their patient horses.
“That smell.” he didn’t quite know what had happened, but it was an inhumanly grotesque stench that caused it. “Didn’t you smell it?”
Alec looked to his brother as if he questioned his sanity. “The smell of a liar? Yeah I smelled it.”
Keaton sighed but let it drop.
“So apparently no sign of them in Bruntwall or Harler.” Alec was back to business. “Which house do you think is theirs?”
Keaton pursed his lips, trying to forget the smell and his eyes ran over the little houses.
“Hey kid.” Alec had stopped a little blond boy who was following a group of children his age. He paused to look at Alec hesitantly. “Where did the Astraky’s live?”
The boy pushed his hair out of his eyes. “Why do you want to know? We’re not allowed to go there. It’s cursed.”
“Curses don’t exist,” Alec said. “Where is it?”
The boy looked down a worn path lined on both sides with homes. “It’s the one way down that road with purple flowers under the windows. It’s on the right and it has a big garden in the back.”
All the shutters were closed. It gave the home a vacant look, regardless of the window boxes smashed with purple, flowers. The door hung open and when they were off their horses and nearing the doorway, they could see all the dirt and dead leaves that had blown in since last night. The noises from the town seemed to fade when they entered, leaving them in an unnerving silence with only the sounds of their slow foot steps on the wooden floor. The front room was the kitchen, one half-empty cup still on the table and cupboards hung open. The wash area was tidy, clean dishes and wash rags in their places. They passed though the room to the open door on the back wall: it was the bedroom. There was one small bed that had been over turned and the headboard was in pieces around it. There was another bed in the corner made big enough for two. A large oak wardrobe stood with its doors flung open and its contents astray.
Alec walked to the back shutters and pushed them open. There was the big garden out back, sprouting little heads of green in orderly rows. The window seal was scuffed and shallow scratches marked the sides. He placed his dirty fingernails on the lines and traced the scars in the wood. This was how they escaped, he thought. Why hadn’t their mom gone with them? Hadn’t she tried to get away too?
Keaton was transfixed on the tiny, wooden trinkets set up on the nightstand; crudely carved horses and people that stood upright. The paint that once made up their faces was chipped and dirty. Children’s toys. He didn’t want to imagine what this scene would have been like.
“Keat.” Alec stood quietly behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”
Keaton nodded and shoved a few of the smooth toys into his pocket. Alec didn’t say anything, though he wanted to pry. If Keaton could put up with his attitude then he could put up with Keaton’s different view of the world. Keaton was the only person on the planet that deserved privacy from Alec. He had earned it.
Their boots were clunking against the wood of the kitchen before Keaton spoke. “We have to find them Alec. Before they do.”
* * *
“September.”
I heard Sky, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer. I couldn’t bring myself to move. Her arms tightened around my hollow stomach and I came to the disorienting realization that we were lying down on the cold dirt.
There hadn’t been a shed of light since we were down here, though I was certain we were in the hole for more than a night. It was dark, and silent, and cold.
Sky cleared her throat. “September?”
The fear that tinted her scratchy voice pulled me from my absent state. I tried to speak, but only a rasp came from my aching throat. I cleared it and replied. “What?” That was all I could think to say.
She sniffed and I could feel the tears slip from her eyes to my sleeve. She was lying on my shoulder. “What are we going to do?”
The answer evaded me. My mind was blank as I stared into the pitch black that was our hiding place. My eyes felt swollen.
“September?”
“I don’t know.”
There was a short silence and she sniffed again. Somewhere, deep in the recesses of my thoughts I heard Mom’s voice.
Promise me that you will take care of each other. Always.
Tears stung the back of my eyes. I had promised her I would take care of my sister. It’s what she wanted. I was suddenly very aware of Sky’s little body curled in against my side. Her arms around my stomach. Her tears soaking my shirt. She was so fragile and she needed my help. I promised.
I coughed dryly once and made sure all sounds of despair were gone from my voice before I spoke. I would be strong for her.
“We have to leave.” My heart shrunk at the thought of leaving home. The place where we had grown up.
It was a minute before she spoke. “Leave where?”
“We’ll find a place.” I was assuring her as well as myself. I untangled from her and slowly we got to our feet. I stretched, reaching for the ceiling. Knots and kinks slid from my sore muscles. Sky groaned quietly as she did the same.
“What time do you think it is?” She asked lowly.
I didn’t answer. Instead, I slid my hands along the ceiling until I found the grooves of the door. Slowly, I pressed my fingers against it until it came open just an inch. It was heavier than I remembered and no light came through the crack.
“It’s night,” I declared.
“Or the rug is blocking the light.”
That was why the door was so heavy. I had forgotten about the rug completely. “Maybe.”
I pushed it with more force, but the rug made it difficult to open. It pressed against me, keeping us in the little hole and a flutter of panic rose to my throat. What if I couldn’t get us out? I swallowed hard and held the door up with one hand, reaching out of the crack for the carpet with the other. I got a grip on it and yanked it several times, grabbing at the heavy folds, until it slid off the door. I exhaled a sigh of relief.
“It is night,” Sky said from beside me. It was still pitch black.
I let the door shut again. “We have to be very quiet,” I told her. “We’re going to get our bags from the bedroom and pack okay? Pack your clothes and a blanket first, and then we’ll pack food and leave out the back window. Alright?”
“Okay,” she breathed and I opened the door, wincing when it hit the wood of the kitchen floor. I crawled out of the hole and pulled her out after. Though the kitchen was dark, the bedroom shutters were open and moonlight bleached everything in the room a luminous white.
“I could have sworn I closed those,” I whispered more to myself than Sky when I saw the open window.
It was clear that the house had been searched for us and we packed silently, taking only a few changes of clothes and one blanket for each of us. I moved to the dark kitchen while Sky finished in the bedroom. I felt my way to the cupboards and emptied them, stuffing the contents into my bag.
“September,” she whispered. I tied my bag shut and looked to see her silhouette standing in the doorway. “Some of my toys are gone.”
I dismissed it with a wave of my hand. “We don’t have room to pack toys anyways Sky. Come here.”
I found the canteens we used when we traveled-which was a rare occasion after my dad died. When he was alive, we made frequent trips to Foster City
“You ready?”
I saw the dark shape of her shoulders shake and she nodded quickly. I swallowed the impending sobs back and ruffled her hair.
“We’re going to be fine Sky,” I lied lightly. “We’ll figure this out. Don’t worry.”
She nodded again and wrapped her arms around me. I sighed and hugged her close, letting a few tears escape from my eyes.
We climbed out the back window and filled all three canteens from the well behind our garden. We picked a few ripe vegetables from the soil and stuffed them in our already too full bags.
The Trystone woods were visible from our backyard, a wide, smudgy shadow splotched against the dark blue sky. We would stay off the roads and travel to Foster City
I looked back through the window one more time: at the big bed Mom and Sky had shared. The wooden walls decorated with foreign objects my mom had bought at gypsy markets. The black doorway to our kitchen, where we spent every single night together at the table for as long as I can remember.
Silent tears swelled my eyes, blurring my vision. I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to curl up in my bed and sleep. I wanted to wake up to Mom telling my I’d slept too long. I wanted to be annoyed with her when she lectured me.
Instead, I wiped my eyes and we turned our backs on everything we had ever known and walked straight into a lonely and unfamiliar new world.
* * *
“I think we’ll be okay here,” I panted after nearly tripping over a rotting log. “We’ve come far enough.”
We had been picking through the merciless terrain of the Trystone woods for what felt like an hour now. Little moonlight filtered through the trees, making it impossible to see the thick ferns and scraping twigs in our path. The ancient trees seemed to moan at our unwelcome presence when we came to a little clearing.
“We can sleep here,” I said and took a small gulp from my canteen.
“Good,” Sky breathed and shrugged the bag off her shoulders and onto the dirt. “I’m so tired.”
We fixed our beds there in the forest on the damp earth and I couldn’t help but to feel sorry for myself. Sky picked an apple out of her bag and crunched into it. She lay on her back, her eyes half closed.
My stomach twisted with the pain of hunger that I had ignored before. I sat on my blanket and found a roll of bread. I ate the whole thing, but found myself hungry still. I tried to shove the thought away and laid down; we didn’t have enough food to eat more than a little bit each night.
I looked at Sky. She was wrapped in her blanket so close to me and looking right back. Her eyes were glistening with fresh tears that ran down her round cheeks. The sight brought tears of my own and I put an arm around her. She curled into me and cried into my chest while my tears soaked her hair.
She was all I had left, the only reason my heart still hung on by just a thread. She shivered and I pulled my blanket over her as much as it would go. Eventually, her sobs subsided and her breathing was heavy with sleep. I watched the rise and fall of her breaths. Brushed away the wet curls that clung to her face. Her lower lip poked out and her eyebrows still held the pain of loss, even in sleep. Seeing her so broken brought on more pain. I could feel it in my stomach, a sick weight nestled in my core. I buried my face in her soft hair, and prayed for unconsciousness.
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