Chapter twenty-one
the mother with many faces
I stood, helpless at the foot of the mountain. Shadow Peak loomed above, casting the ground in darkness. I didn’t even know which direction to go.
“Hold on!”
A small, paunchy woman ran after me. The two guardians who watched over the touch stone to enter the mountain side-eyed each other. They laughed at the woman when she wasn’t looking. Upon catching up, the woman doubled over and sucked in air. Her cheeks flushed with effort, they clashed with her light, mauve-pink buzz-cut. Through laboured breaths, the woman asked, “Are you the foolish girl on the Queen’s errand?”
“That’s me.”
“What’s your name, child?”
“Nell.”
“I’m coming with you, Nell.”
“What? ”
“The Queen sent me to escort you.” The woman stood tall, as tall as she could, and wiped sweat from her brow. “She wants to make sure you make it to the burrow alive. It would be a right shame if you died before Jorgen had a chance to kill you.”
My brows furrowed as I took in the small woman. “I’m sorry, what’s your name?”
“Brana. Do you have a hat?”
“I—what?”
“A hat. We’ve got a long walk.” Outfitted for travel, Brana wore a little backpack, and something that, back home, we called a fanny pack. She pulled a large, witchy sunhat from the pack. Handing it to me, she asked, “Do you have protection?”
“What?” I repeated.
Brana pointed at the sun and pulled out a glass bottle. She plucked out thestopper and dumped the contents inmypalm. She did the same for herself, then smearedthe liquid over her face and arms.
“Ah.” Sunscreen.
“Off we go then.” Rather than head to town, Brana waddled down a path that led around the mountain.
I trudged after her. “How long will it take us to get there?”
“Three days.”
“Three days?!”
“I’ve got short legs and bad ankles.”
My mind raced. I didn’t want to leave Darragh trapped here for nearly a week. Brana sensed my trepidation. “If the Queen is going to kill him, she’ll wait until you’re back to do it.”
I shoved my hands in my pockets and muttered, “Groovy.”
“I’m surprised she let you live,” Brana said. “She executed the last girl Darragh looked at. ”
“What?”
“Oh sure. I can’t remember what happened exactly, but Darragh saved the poor guardian from being killed out in the wood. The Queen had her publicly executed the next morning, said she, ‘didn’t want someone protecting her who couldn’t protect themselves.’ But we all know she was sending a message.”
“And what was that?”
Brana pursed her lips. “Don’t touch my things.”
I shook my head. I’d kill Bowyn if I ever got my hands on him. “What about the Cage?” I asked. “Will they hurt Darragh?”
“No. It wouldn’t disobey the Queen.”
“What is it exactly?”
“No one knows much about the creature. It showed up by the Queen’s side in the last few years. Nasty thing.”
I thought about what Darragh had said, that people hated it more than they hated him. “I feel bad for it.”
“It’s a monster!”
“I imagine it’s lonely.”
“I… I suppose.” After a few moments of silence, Brana asked, “Do you have children?”
I shook my head no. “You?”
Brana’s face brightened. “A son! Pip.” If we were back home, this would be where she’d pull out her phone and show me photos. Instead, she reached for me. “May I?” I offered my hand. An image of a young boy, maybe fifteen, popped into my head.
“He’s practically a man,” I cooed.
Brana released me, her eyes dewy. “I suppose he is, isn’t he?”
I wasn’t much for children myself; I didn’t really know what else to ask. Thankfully, Brana didn’t need prodding. “I almost lost him you know, when he was a baby. Seeing him grow up”—her voice cracked—“I treasure every moment of it.” Brana wiped her eye. “Look at me, all sentimental.” She shook her head and said, “I’m sorry. Would you like something to eat?” Brana rummaged in her pack. She withdrew a softball sized pastry and gave it to me. It looked like a muffin, with a gooey, liquid centre poking out the top.
“Uh, thanks.” I bit down on the soft pastry and uttered an unseemly moan. Brana beamed as she devoured her own pastry. “This is incredible,” I mumbled through my second bite.
“Pip made it. He’s quite the baker, you know.” Pride lit Brana’s eyes and curled her cheeks into a warm smile. “Would you like another?”
“I think I’ll finish this one first but maybe later, thank you.”
“Don’t be shy.” Brana scarfed down a second muffin and patted her pack. “There’s lots.”
Walking with Brana was actually…quite nice. She told me stories about Pip and fed me snacks. For a while, I forgot all about the burrow, Jorgen, and the likelihood of my own death.
***
“Shall we stop for dinner?” Brana wandered off the path and tossed her bags on the ground. “I’ll get started here.You grab firewood.”
“Wait, you need wood?”I’dnever seen Darragh use any.
Brana gave me a funny look and laughed. “Of course we need wood!”
“I just thought...”
“Do you know how much effort it takes to keep a firegoing? How much control?What happens if I get distracted whileI’mcooking?We’llburn the whole place down!”
“Alright, okay I’m going.” I dropped my bag andstartedtoward the trees.
“Be careful!” Brana shouted. “I’ll not have the Queen choke me for letting a nightstalker eat you before you get to the burrow!”
“Yes. That would be a shame,” Imuttered.
While searching for fallen branches,Istoopedto pickup a few twigs, butstruggled to find anything substantial. I wandered into thetrees andscannedthe ground.“A-ha!” A sizeable dead log lay across the wood floor. I grabbed a rotting branch, and started to wiggle it free.
Splinters exploded up as a boot slammed onto the branch. I stumbled away and cried, “What the—”
My heart plummeted.
Three women stood before me.
Specifically, the three women I’d forced Darragh to let live after our lastpredicamentin the wood.
What were the chances?
Oh, who am I kidding? With my luck, it’s a wonder I hadn’t run into them sooner.
“Where’s your pretty companion?” Geneth asked.She spun, and I saw a dark blur before her boot met the side of my head. I careened back, sending up a cloud of bark and twigs. Pinpricks of light speckled my vision, and I tried to scream for help. Something coiled around my throat and yanked me to my feet.
Geneth approached with her hand outstretched. The invisible ropetightened against my neck, pulling me backward. My feet struggled to keep up with the momentum, and I tried not to slip on the twigs I’d dropped. “Oof!” I slammed into a tree. The rope curled around my entire body, tying me to the trunk. With every breathI drew,the rope curled tighter.
“You killed our friend,” Geneth hissed.
My response was choked andbreathy. “Technically, I didn’t kill anyone.” I made eye contact with a woman behind Geneth. “I did hit you with a rock. Sorry. I’m glad to see you’re up and about.”She scowled and took a step, but Geneth stopped her.
“You should have watched your man better. You’re just as much to blame.”
“He’s not”—I struggled to speak—“my man.”
“Then why not let us kill him?”
I remained silent.
Geneth let out a shrieking laugh. “That’s what I thought.”
The woman I’d brained with the rock snarled, “Break her neck.”
“I’m trying!” Geneth’s face contorted with effort, but the coil wouldn’t tighten. Like an approaching storm, a shadow fell over the wood. I only realized thedarkwasn’tthe result of mynearnessto fainting when Geneth cried,“What are you doing?”She looked over her shoulder and the pressure around my neck lessened. “How are you doing that?!”
I had no idea what was going on, but I certainlywasn’tgoing to tellher that.
Tendrils of smoke oozed from the trees; they snaked toward Geneth. The strange, grey vapor curled around her ankles, and ascended her legs. Geneth batted the smoke like an unwelcome insect. It washed over her hand and continued to climb her body. “Uaah—”
Geneth’sscream cut short as smoke slid into her mouth. Sheclawed ather throat, erupting in violent, dry coughs. Smokeseeped from her nose, and her eyes turned red as the blood vessels burst. Geneth’s companions watched helplessly as she drew one final, wheezing breath and collapsed.
She did not get up.
A familiar, gut-wrenching noise permeated the trees.
Rattling chains.
Metal clanking against metal.
Twigs snapped above, and a hooded figure descended from the canopy. Legs of dark smoke stretched from the figure, giving the impression of a giant arachnid approaching its prey. It cranedits longneck toward Geneth’s companions, and a sickly arm pulled the hood away.
I knew who it was long before I saw myself reflected in the many eyes of the Cage.
It followed me.
The Cage reached forward with one withered hand, and the women at my side vanished. My feet held firmly in place; I couldn’t run. I had some movement left in my arms; I grabbed Darragh’s ring.
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” the Cage rasped.
Before I could decide whether to heed the warning or use the ring, the Cage raised its frail arms over its head and stood tall. Wisps of smoke crept upthe Cage’sbody, enveloping it like acocoon. When it fell away, my jaw dropped.
“Brana?”
“Couldn’t stay out of trouble for two minutes, could you?” Brana looked at me in that disappointed, pitying way only a mother can. “I wouldn’t wastethat.” She pointed at the ring. “You’re going to need it.”
***
We sat cross-legged beside the campfire. I kept my eyes trained on Brana. Oblivious to my discomfort, she puttered about the fire and said, “Let’s put some meat on those bones.” Brana handed me an earthy plate heaped high with food. “We’ll give you a fighting chance against that Jorgen fellow.” She paused, deep in thought. “Or at least give him a hearty meal.” Thinking of Jorgen didn’t do much to encourage my appetite, but it was hard to resist Brana’s cooking. I ate a crisp, golden morsel. It tasted like juicy fried chicken. When I finished, Brana took my plateand gave me a second portion. I finished that too She motioned to give methirds .
“Please no,” I begged.
Pointing to a pot on the fire, Brana assured, “There’s lots.”
“I can’t.”
Branamade a disagreeable face but took my plate. She handed me a mug filled with a warm, sweet drink, before nestling in front of the fire herself.
“So…you’re the Cage, eh?” I did my best to keep my tone casual. As if I’d inquired about someone she was dating, not that she wasperhaps themost pants-shittingly scary monsterI’d ever seen.
Brana exhaled and let her head fall back. When she finally looked at me, she stared with such focus, I had to look away. “I am the Cage, but the Cage isn’t me. I’m Brana first. The Cage second.”
“So, this is what you look like? You just…turn into the Cage?”
Brana nodded. “You’re the only person in the world who knows. Even the Queen doesn’t know who I truly am.” She stared into the fire. “You were right about the Cage. It’s a terribly lonely life.” She chugged the contents of her mug. “I worry about Pip. If anyone found out who I was, or who he was to me…” Brana trailed off. “I should kill youright now.”
I sipped my drink.
“Unfortunately, with all this nasty Queen business, I can’t kill you.” Brana shrugged. “Fortunately, you’ll probably die in the burrow.”
“Thanks,” I replied, unappreciatively. “What if I don’t die in there?”
“Then I guess we’ll revisit this once you deliver the Queen her necklace,” Brana said, grinning.
“Noted.” I thought of Geneth’s companions. When Brana snapped her fingers, they’d simply vanished. “Where do people go, when you send them away?”
“Honestly? I don’t know. I just sort of, keep them up here.” Brana pointed to her forehead. “When the Queen passes, I plan to release them. The innocent ones—which is most of them. I’m just keeping them safe for now.”
My pulse quickened. “Do you have Darragh in there? ”
Brana frowned. “Before I left, the Queen ordered me to give him to the Truth.” She gave me a serious stare. “We should be swift.”
Fresh worry for Darragh’s safety needled me. Please, one ridiculous problem at a time , I thought. Survive the burrow, then worry about Darragh.
“The Queen didn’t send you to make sure I made it to the burrow alive, did she?” Brana shook her head. “Then why are you helping me?”
Brana leaned over and took myhand. “May I?”
“Go for it—”
The fire slipped away as I tumbled into Brana’s memory.
I regretted my decision. A sudden and crushing pressure weighed my chest. I struggled to catch my breath and took in Brana’s surroundings. The only window in the room, a tiny opening between the wooden beams and cob, was shuttered. A few candles, burned down so they were only stubs, flickered faintly. Brana stepped forward—
Crunch!
She pulled her foot away and picked up a tiny wooden dragon. Brana approached the small bed nestled against the wall, pausing to place the broken dragon in an overflowing toybox. Her gaze travelled up the bed and settled on the frail child nestled beneath the blanket.
The pain coursing through Brana made itself known.
Grief.
Shesat tenderly on the bed, careful not to wake the boy.
Her baby, her entire life.
Brana lay her head on the pillow next to him. Watching his chest rise and fall, she tried not to think about what came next. She needed to focus on this, just to be close to him for a little while longer. The bedroom dooropened, and a woman entered. I didn’t recognize her, yet I knew she was Brana’s mother. The boy who entered the room behind her, I did recognize: Darragh. He was much younger; the hair around his templeshadn’tgreyed yet. His face, less-weathered, still had the roundness of youth.
Brana leapt up. She put herself between Darragh and Pip. “What’s he doing here?”
“Step aside,” Brana’s mother snapped.
“Did anyone see him come in?” Brana seethed.
“He can help!”
“Get him out of here, now!”
Brana’s mother dropped her voice to a whisper. “Pip will be dead by morning if we do nothing.” Brana swallowed hard; her mother pointed at Darragh. “He was cursed with death, but he has the gift of life! Please! Let him save my grandson.” My stomach tugged as Brana’s mother choked on the word ‘grandson.’
Brana looked at Pip, grimacing while he slept. A part of her pretended he was smiling—the same smile he wore when she arrived home after a long day. A beautiful gift given to her simply because she was there, because she existed. She thought of the way Pip grabbed her legs and dragged her to the kitchen to show her the dinner he’d made. With Grandmama’s help, of course.
How can I come backtothis house without him? Brana wondered. How can the world exist without him?
Brana sobbed.
She’d do anything to keep him alive.
Brana stepped aside.
Darragh knelt beside Pip’s bed. “He was bitten?”
Brana wiped snot from her nose and nodded. “He was playing outside the village. He told me a big snake bit him. The healer”—Brana hiccupped—“shesaid there was nothing to be done. Pip doesn’t have much magic…She barely even looked at him.”
No one cared about a little boy who hardly had enough magic to take care of himself.
But Brana cared.
Brana cared for him more than anything else in this world. All the things he wouldn’t experience tumbled through her thoughts. He’d never fall in love or have a family of his own… A fresh surge of tears poured down Brana’s cheeks and she moved to the back of the room. Darragh picked up Pip’s hand and examined the bite. The wound was putrid and festered, but Darraghdidn’t recoil. Heplaced Pip’s hand against his cheek.Several tense moments passed before a tear fell from Darragh’s eye, dripping onto Pip’s wound. Gently, Darragh placed it back on the bed. We waited in silence, watching the rise and fall of Pip’s chest. It fell…
…and it did not rise again.
Brana stopped breathing.
Her mother whimpered and reached out. Brana pushed her away and grabbed for Darragh. He dodged and crossed the room. Smoke rose from the floor and crept up Brana’s legs. She shrieked, “How could you!”
Brana’s mother leapt between her and Darragh. “Please, Brana!”
“You killed him!”
Two thin arms wrapped around Brana’s waist. The familiar pressure of a tiny head pressed herbelly. “Are you alright, Mama?”
Brana’s world froze, and she stilled with it. Slowly, her trembling hand curled in Pip’s hair. She had to make sure he was real; she tousled his hair. Pip’s laugh filled the room and he cried, “Mama, stop!”
The weight of Brana’s body collapsed on the floorboards with a loud thud. She grabbed Pip and held him tighter than she’d ever held anything before. “Oh! Oh, my baby!” Brana wept and kissed Pip’sheadonce, twice. Pip laughed and wiggled away. His laughter was the sweetest noise in the world. Brana looked up, searching for Darragh.
“He’s gone,” her mother said. “He didn’t want to risk us further.”
“I have to go after him.” Brana rose to her feet. “I owe him my life.”
Her mother motioned toward Pip and whispered, “It’s not the time.” She refused to meet Brana’s eye, as if she harbored guilt of some sort. Brana knew then, her mother had given Darragh something.
But what?
“I will repay him,” Brana murmured, “one day.”
“I know.” Her mother frowned.
The crackling fire reappeared as Brana let go. Iwiped my nose and cheeks on my sleeve. “Darragh saved Pip?”I sniffled. Brana nodded, poking embers with a stick. “So,you’re helping me to repay Darragh? Surely the Queen will kill you if she finds out?”
“I owe him my life,” Brana echoed the phrase from the memory. “Truthfully, I think the Queen wants you to come back from this journey. If you find her trinket, maybe she’ll be lenient with us both.”Brana chuckled to herself. “Or at least kill us quickly. Either way, I’d rather have her angry with me than Darragh.”
I cringed, giving Brana a look that said, really?
“Did you see Darragh’s eyes when I ripped you away? If any harm comes to you, he’ll make good on his promise—he will burn me alive. The Queen will kill me quickly, but Darragh…well, you know how men are.”
I cocked my head.
Brana tsked and said, “So emotional.” I bit back a laugh as Brana poured herself another drink.
“You know, I asked Darragh not to kill those women in the woods.”
Brana choked on her drink and thumped her chest. “You what ?”
“We ran into them before, and he killed one of them. I begged him not to kill the rest. Hesaid they’d come back and butcher us if they had the chance.” I gazed into the fire. “He was right.”
“It was a mistake to leave them alive,” Brana agreed. She smiled, and added, “I won’t tell him.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
***
We awoke to a crisp morning. “Are you warm enough?” Brana asked, half-pulling a cloak from her pack.
“I’m fine.”
Brana handed me the cloak anyway. We didn’t bother making a fire. Brana fed me pastries and water, then we set out. As the burrow loomed closer, even Brana’s stories about Pip couldn’t cheer me up.
Would I die in the burrow?
Would I make it back to the mountain and die there?
So many possibilities.
“Well?” Brana called out.
“Sorry—what?”
Brana gave me a pitying look.
“Sorry. I’m just distracted.” I stared at my feet while we walked. “Can you tell me anything about the creature in the burrow?” Brana winced, but I pressed. “Please. I need all the help I can get. What do you know?”
“He was a man once, Jorgen. He was born, oh, over five hundred years ago now—”
“Five hundred?” I repeated breathlessly.
“That’ll be the least of the shocks in this story, just listen.”
“Sorry.”
“Jorgen was born with very little magic. Basic, like my little Pip.” Brana spit the word basic with scorn. “One day while Jorgen was working in his family’s jewel shop, a woman tried to rob him. The stories say he killed her—that it was self-defence, but we never can be sure now, can we?” Brana’s brows raised conspiratorially. “ Anyway, the moment the woman passed from this world to the next, Jorgen was overcome with power. Her power. While he revelled, a customer entered the shop. Jorgen panicked and killed them too. Same as before, when that woman passed on, Jorgen absorbed her magic. He continued this way, killing again and again, absorbing the abilities of the dead. Until one day—he couldn’t take on anymore.”
“What changed?”
“He was full up.”
“So, what did he do?”
Brana shot me a cross look that said, we’ll get there when we get there .
“Sorry.”
“Jorgen’s family were expert jewellers, and Jorgen, never distracted by magic, was the finest of the lot. He found a way to store excess power inside a ring. As you can imagine, Jorgen’s killing spree didn’t go unnoticed forever. The townspeople begged the queen at the time, Queen Aeress, to help them. While Queen Aeress couldn’t kill Jorgen, she was able to ensnare him in a burrow. For hundreds of years, people entered the burrow, hoping to kill Jorgen and take the ring. All of them were killed, and Jorgen grew stronger, and stronger.”
“Until the Queen stole it?”
Brana nodded. “She wasn’t the same after that, the Queen.” A shudder passed through Brana. “She got the ring, but people reckon she brought something else out with her.”
We crested a hill above a valley. The landscape below was mostly barren, some craggy rocks here and there. Imposing ruins stood in the middle of the valley. “Those ruins guard the entrance to the burrow. We’ll camp here tonight. You’ll go in tomorrow.”
“You?” I stammered. “As in me? Alone?”
“The Queen chooses her words carefully. You must go alone. ”
“But how will she know?” I panicked.
“The Queen shares a powerful bond with this place. She will know if I join you.” Brana busied herself unpacking. I dropped my bag and set off collecting wood, hoping the monotony might calm me. After several trips back and forth, I plopped down beside Brana.
“Am I stupid?” I asked.
Brana smiled while she prepared supper. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Should I run? Should I just go home and forget all this happened?” I rubbed my temples. “I’m going to die for someone I have a crush on. I barely know Darragh. This is ridiculous.”
Once I finished venting, Brana handed me a knife and a pile of gigantic green beans. “Trim these.” I sawed at the woody ends. Brana cringed at my inaptitude but didn’t intervene.
“When I was young, there were people we called matchmakers. Gifted with incredible foresight, a matchmaker peeked into all possible futures before you. They returned with visions, fragments of a beloved—of someone whose magic weaves into the very fibres of your heart.” Brana stirred the boiling cauldron. “Matchmakers revealed the one person who might love you so completely that you have no choice but to be the best version of yourself, for your sake and theirs.” A darkness settled over Brana. “It became a common practice for mothers to bring their daughters and sons to matchmakers. Children wasted less time and energy searching for love if they already knew who their beloved was, whom they might call melaethien.”
“And what happened to them, the matchmakers?”
“The practice was outlawed. Too much corruption. Mothers, eager to find their children powerful matches, bribed matchmakers. Instead of showing a child their true love, a matchmaker provided a false prophecy, showing a powerful suitor.” Brana dropped the beans in the boiling cauldron. “My mother, Lore, was a matchmaker. I’d like to imagine she never took any bribes but, none of us are infallible, are we?”
“I suppose.” I wished Brana would get to the point.
“After matchmaking was outlawed, my mother never used her gift again.” Brana waved a hand, stoking the fire. “Until the night Darragh saved Pip.” She looked at me to see if I understood.
I didn’t.
She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Darragh knows who his beloved is. He knows because my mother showed him.”
My jaw slackened, and I stared at Brana.
Hundreds of tiny moments fell into place like delicate puzzle pieces. Sasha’s matter-of-fact whispers. ‘ He recognized you. ’ Bowyn’s casual allusions, that he was happy I survived, ‘ for Darragh’s sake .’ And Darragh, who looked at me with such enduring conviction, as he offered his power and body to protect me…
Brana continued. “So, if you’re asking me if you should run, my answer is this: Darragh might have found his melaethien, but that doesn’t mean you’ve found yours.” Brana gave me a pointed look. “The choice is up to you.”
I gazed into the fire, mulling Brana’s words. If Darragh truly believed I was his beloved, why did he always shrink from my touch? I picked up a blade of grass and began shredding it between my fingers. Perhaps all this time, Darragh was terrified to do or say the wrong thing and scare me away?
Night had fallen while we talked, and I found my gaze drawn to the sky. I felt some comfort when I located the brightest star in the dark expanse. As I looked upon it, I couldn’t help but wonder:
How many nights had Darragh held my face in his memory, hoping to find me ?
After a deep breath, I tossed the blade of grass into the fire.
I would not— could not leave Darragh to die.
“But what can I do?” I said. “What chance do I have against some monster that’s killed thousands of people?”
Brana pulled away from cooking. “It does seem awfully hopeless, doesn’t it?”
Story of my life.
Brana dragged her bag over and pulled out a small vial. “This past summer, Pip had his first outing with a young woman.” Brana fidgeted with the vial. “I bought this to send with him because, well, you know how young girls can be.”
“What is it?” I asked apprehensively.
“Do you have any protection at all? A blade? Anything?”
“No—wait!” I tugged out the pin Bowyn had tucked in my hair. The sharp point glinted in the firelight. Brana plucked the stopper from the vial, and, taking the pin, dipped it inside. When she withdrew it, a thick, purple liquid oozed over the blade. I pinched my nose against the sickly-sweet stench. Brana held the pin to the fire, and the liquid dried clear.
“Pierce Jorgen’s flesh with this, and it just might buy you enough time to get out.” She handed me the pin, pulling away before I could take it. “Don’t accidentally nick yourself with this, alright?”
I took the pin. “What do you think I am—oops.” I searched for the pin in the grass. “Heh.” I picked it up and very carefully tucked it back in my hair. Jutting my chin at the vial, I said, “I’d hate to be one of the girls interested in Pip.”
Brana chuckled. “Can’t be too careful.”
“Where’d you get that, by the way?”
Brana tucked the vial away. “Only one person supplies the town with poison.”
My mind wandered along the path from Darragh’s cottage, through the winding shrubs and flowers, and stopped at the final garden with the tallest fence.
Inside, a deep-purple flower dripped a thick, oozing sap.