Chapter 20
Chapter
Twenty
Barren fields stretched out mockingly in front of Riona as a reminder of Aiden’s broken promise. The dark dirt lay fallow and cold. Unyielding. Riona’s heart dropped at the sight of the fields.
How could he be so cruel?
She walked across the cold earth like a sleepwalker toward her home. Loch-Gaar loomed ahead. There was a dilapidated, unwelcoming air about it. The front gates hung open a small crack as if someone had forgotten or hadn’t bothered to close the gate because there wasn’t anything worth taking. She couldn’t see any movement inside the village. Today was usually a market day and the square teemed with people. Not today.
During the winter months, the sky would usually be filled with smoke from the homes of the villagers, but a few dark clouds dotted the sky. Unease hurried her footsteps toward the village.
“Halt. State your purpose,” a tired voice called out as she reached the gate.
“It’s Riona MacGowan. I’ve come to help.”
A man she barely recognized peered down at her from the wall. The gatekeeper looked terrible. John’s face was sunken in, and his clothes were filthy. His usually well-kept hair hung around his face in dirty hanks. His laughter rang out harshly against the silence.
“You never should have come back,” he said.
“I want to help if I can.” Riona tried smiling at him again, but he didn’t react.
“You should turn back around and leave. Save yourself.” He didn’t stop her as she entered the village. He just watched her. His eyes were dull, and his expression was blank. He regarded her woodenly.
“I’ve got to try, John.” Something like pity flitted across his face at her words and then disappeared.
“Then may the gods save your soul. This village is cursed.” John turned away from her and disappeared into the small watch tower.
She stood there for a moment contemplating John’s words. With a resolve she didn’t know she had, she moved deeper into the village. A few steps later, she stopped in horror at the scene in front of her. Once well-kept houses had been torn apart. Many were missing shutters or parts of their roofs. The once bustling square was completely empty. The only thing inhibiting it was the cold wind that blew around Riona. There was no one here. Maybe John was the only person who’d stayed behind. Curiosity sent her farther into the village. No one came out to greet her.
Riona stopped after a moment. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand spending among the ruins of her home. Should I keep going? A loud noise drew Riona’s eyes toward a house, and she caught the movement of a shutter being closed. A pale face appeared at a window. No. She wasn’t alone.
How many are even left?
Riona scanned the area and noticed other signs of life, from flickering shutters and little trails of wispy smoke coming out of a few houses. There were more people here than she thought. They were just all afraid or hiding.
Her drive to help the villagers had her continue walking down the village path until she reached Marwin’s house. Disappointment enveloped her at what she saw. His front door hung open, revealing a dark cavern inside. He’d been long gone. Not knowing his fate, her feet instinctively moved toward Rada’s house.
Much to Riona’s relief, she found the Elder’s house appeared to be unscathed. The cottage stood, and smoke swirled out of the chimney in small puffs. She rapped on the door. A noise sounded inside, and then the door swung open. Rada stood in front of her like a wraith. Her pale hands curled around the splintered wood. She blinked at Riona owlishly. Her wild hair stood out in every direction, and a filthy dress hung on her scrawny body. Her skin was stretched over her face so tightly that she looked skeletal. The roundness to her cheeks was gone.
“Are you an apparition or are you real?” her raspy voice asked.
“I’m alive and here to help in any way I can.”
“Oh, you’ll help, all right.” Rada laughed. The noise was shrill and had a touch of madness in it, like Rada’s filmy blue eyes. Riona almost shrank away as Rada reached out a bony finger to touch her face. Rada scraped her finger across Riona’s cheek. “You will help.”
“What can I do?” Riona took the other woman’s coarse hand in her own.
Rada’s gaze softened. “Forget this place. We have paid the price for our greed and cruelty. Leave and live the good life you deserve.”
“I can’t leave. I have to try to help.”
Rada closed her eyes, and when she opened them, there was a bleakness to them. “Can you stop the blight? Can you put food in our empty bellies?”
“I can try. My hands are strong, and I can forage. It’s a start.”
Rada’s lips twisted into a sad smile, and she shook her head. “Do what you will, child, but I think we’re beyond help.”
“I’m so sorry. This is my fault. I told you to make your offerings to Aiden. If I hadn’t...”
Rada shook her head. “None of this is your fault. You are good, Riona. We couldn’t see past your differences, and we’ve reaped what we’ve sown. Now go, child, and forget this place.”
She turned and shut the door in Riona’s surprised face with a click.
Riona stood in front of the closed door. Her hand was raised to knock again, but she stopped herself. Rada always had answers and ideas, but she’d just given up. Riona knew it was no use.
The wind howled around her, buffeting her cheeks with cold air. Riona stood dumbly in front of Rada’s door, unsure of herself and what to do next. Her only companion as she walked through the village was the wind. Unconsciously, she’d made her way home. She found herself stopped in front of her old house. A shadow passed by the window. The blacksmith must have arrived. It was no longer home now.
Before she could turn to go, the door opened, and a tawny-skinned man about her age opened the door. He was a solid wall of muscle with a neatly trimmed black beard and close-cropped hair. But she almost didn’t notice. Her attention was focused on his ears. They were pointed, just like hers. And his eyes were a startling amethyst.
“Can I help you?” the mountain of a man rumbled.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here.” She spun on her heel to leave, but his voice stopped her.
“Another Fae blood in this town. I’m surprised you made it past the gate. Then again, there’s no one really left to stop you. Come in,” the man said, and he held the door open wider for her to enter. On second glance at the man, Riona noticed his muscled body was covered in tattoos. Intricate, colorful patterns twined around his neck and arms, probably other places too, but his clothing was covering him. He raised an eyebrow at her hesitation. Riona smiled abashedly and stepped inside. He seemed friendly enough, and he was another Fae.
The aching familiarity of her home crashed around her. Her chest became heavy with memories of her past life.
“Are you okay?” the blacksmith asked as he ushered to sit down.
“Just memories,” Riona said softly. She sat at the table her family had spent countless hours at together. They were all gone. She was the only one left. Her fingers trembled as she ran them over a deep groove one of her father’s projects had accidentally caused when he plunked it down a little too roughly. Her mother had given him a sound scolding, but it had ended in smiles when he had disappeared, and then returned with a bouquet of wildflowers and a very heartfelt apology. He’d even tried to fix the table, but her mother had stopped him and said she liked the table as it now had character. Riona’s eyes grew a little misty at the memory.
“Ah, you must be the infamous Riona,” the new blacksmith said softly. He rummaged around the cupboard and drew out two metal mugs. A kettle on the stove whistled. He picked it up and poured its contents into the waiting mugs.
Riona swallowed, and when she felt she could speak clearly, she did, but her voice was still a little raw. “How do you know who I am?”
“It isn’t a secret that you used to live in this house, and most of the villagers curse your name. Unless their lips are already filled with curses about me. This village is poison. If I had known how they felt about the Fae, I would have never come. I’m Broc, by the way.” He held out a cup in his giant paw of a hand toward her.
Riona took it and was greeted by the smell of blackberry tea. Her favorite. The tea was so pale it was almost clear. He’d probably used the last of what he had to make something for the both of them. The kind gesture touched Riona. She took a sip and gathered her thoughts. The villagers cursed her. Some blamed her for their downfall. Even though it was their own greed that brought on the blight. Riona was surprised by her thought. It was true, though. But regardless of what some said, they weren’t all bad. There were innocent people here who still needed help. Either would help Loch-Gaar. She couldn’t just leave the village to rot, no matter how much they cursed her. This was her home.
Was it?
Riona ignored the voice in her head and thought of a crackling fire in a library and cait cuddles. Aiden’s house wasn’t her home. Loch-Gaar was.
Riona racked her brain for what she could do to help. There were only so many berries she could gather. A thought entered her mind, and she smiled. Of course, she would ask Siobhan for aid or to send a new patron. Loch-Gaar was under the queen’s protection, so regardless of whether Aiden helped or not, the queen should... hopefully. Now she just had to figure out how to get a message to the queen.
Distracted, she looked around her old home and noticed that Broc had done some redecorating. Blades and other weapons hung on the walls. Some of the spaces were empty, as if weapons had been hung there and removed. A canvas pack sat open on the bed, stuffed halfway full, and beside it a pile of arms.
“I’m leaving at nightfall, and you should come too. You’re not safe here. Neither am I, for that matter.” Broc’s voice broke through her thoughts. Riona blinked at him in surprise. She’d been completely lost in her thoughts and forgotten about the blacksmith.
“The villagers don’t like the Fae, but they wouldn’t hurt us. Not me. I’m one of them.”
“Suit yourself,” Broc said with a disbelieving shrug. “I think you should come with me to Ciar. They don’t have a problem with Fae. I never should have left.”
“Why did you come here?” Riona asked.
“Living in Ciar... Always having to be ready for the next round of draugar, always fighting. Never knowing peace. It wears a body down. I thought that Loch-Gaar would be the answer, but I didn’t know how they treated Fae blood. I’d heard whispers here and there about how some towns were, but I didn’t realize that Loch-Gaar was one of them. Imagine my and the villagers’ surprise when I arrived.” Broc smiled bitterly.
“Are you going back to Ciar?”
“That’s the plan. I still think you should come too.”
“I have a friend in Ciar. You might know her. Meg?”
Broc nodded, and this time his smile was genuine. “I do, and Connal. I’m glad to hear that they are safe. I worried for her safety. When she left, she tried to get me to go with her, but I stubbornly stayed behind since I’d just arrived and hoped that things would get better, but they only got worse. I’ve regretted not leaving with her every day I stayed behind.”
“They are in Ciar now. Safe and sound.”
“As safe as any could be in Ciar.” Broc shot back. They sat in silence for a second, and then he continued. “So I can’t convince you to leave with me? You’re going to try to stick around?”
“I have to try to help. It is my home.”
“Foolish of you to think they will be grateful.”
“If I turned my back on them, I would never forgive myself, and I can help them. I can send a message to Siobhan for aid.”
“As in Queen Siobhan of the Unseelie Court? That Siobhan?” Broc asked. There was a tone of skepticism and something else in his voice... Anger?
“Yes, that Siobhan. We’re friends. She will help.” And if she wouldn’t do it out of the goodness of her heart, Riona figured she could barter with her. Also, Siobhan had to help Loch-Gaar. Technically, she was bound to protect them by oath. It was part of the Fae-mortal covenant.
“Siobhan doesn’t help a soul if it doesn’t help her, and I don’t think this village has much to offer by way of incentive,” Broc said with an edge of bitterness to his voice.
“Do you know the queen?” Riona asked. Broc smiled grimly.
“A little too well. She’s my sister.” He laughed at the surprised look on her face and amended his statement. “Well, half-sister. Dear old Dad didn’t have much use for half-Fae bastards, and I haven’t heard a peep from my loving sister since she took over.” He took a swig from his cup. Even from the distance Riona was sitting, she could smell the liquor in it.
“I didn’t know the queen had a brother...”
“More than one, and a sister. Alec made things easier for her and died in the war. I didn’t oblige her in the same way.”
“Why would her brother’s death be a good thing?” Riona asked. She’d give anything to spend just a day with her little brother.
“Because, love, we’re just as worthy of the throne as my dear sister.” Broc’s gaze shot to the door, and his expression clouded. “We’re about to have company,” he said as he stood and reached for a large ax mounted on the wall. With his free hand, he pulled a wicked-looking notched blade from beside the ax and hefted it at Riona. “Do you know how to use one of these?”
Riona shook her head.
The sound of voices buzzed in the distance. The villagers of Loch-Gaar were coming for her. Their voices were raised in anger, and the closer they got, the easier it was to make out their hate-filled words.
She’d been a fool to come. A naive fool. Riona closed her eyes to stem the tears that threatened to fall. A hand gently grasped her shoulder, and Riona’s eyes fluttered open to see Broc regarding her with pity.
“Get behind me, and I’ll try to hold them off as long as I can. If you are able to make a run for it, go. Don’t worry about me. Just go.” He tossed the sword aside, and it landed on the floor with a solid thunk. Broc gripped the ax with the familiarity of a soldier. They both waited for what was to come.
The door swung open by the force of the angry crowd. There were more of them than Riona expected. Many more. Too many for Broc to hold off successfully. Their eyes glittered with accusation and hate above their thin, starved faces.
“Riona, we’ve been waiting for you,” a voice she’d never hoped to hear again said. Kendrick stood at the head of the mob, holding a pair of iron manacles.
Broc lasted much longer than Riona expected him to, but in the end, the villagers swarmed him and wrestled away his ax. He fought them bare-handed until he was overwhelmed by their sheer numbers.
Their hands reached for Riona. Resolve coursed through Riona. These weren’t her people. Not anymore. She turned to pick up the sword Broc had offered her. But before she could reach it, something painful struck the back of Riona’s head, and then she fell into darkness.