Chapter 14
T he only sound more haunting than Dempsey’s scream was the abrupt silence when it stopped. A silence matched by the darkness behind the closed eyes Emer retreated to.
She felt her body slide across the ground and knew she was no longer suspended over the cliff when the wind could not reach her tear-burned cheeks.
Calder spoke to her as he pulled her back from the edge, but she could not distinguish his words.
He gripped her shoulders, but her eyes remained closed.
He shook her, and still, they remained shut.
His hand cupped her cheek and she stared up at him.
The lines of his profile were harsh against the soft sky behind him as he grimaced at the carnage on the rocks below. When his eyes returned to her, they were dark and worried. Despite not knowing what he was looking for, she wanted to hide as he searched her eyes.
The unraveled bandages now exposed her shaky, bare hands. Hands with new faint scratches on the backs that she would be able to see long after they healed. She clasped them over her mouth to prevent another scream.
Calder tried to sit her up, but she recoiled, rolling to the opposite side and vomiting. There was a ghost of a touch to her back that might have been comforting if she was not so incredibly numb. She rose to her knees, the acid still dripping from her lips as she turned to him. His mouth moved, but the ringing in her ears was too loud.
“I killed him.”
The confession left her in a strangled whisper, but inside, it had been a scream.
“Eyes on me, Merrow.”
His command went unmet as she continued to look towards the cliff. He knelt next to her and his hand clutched the back of her neck as he tried to make her meet his gaze.
It was as if she felt everything and nothing.
It was someone else’s pain.
Someone else’s body.
Someone else’s neck, cradled by a strong hand.
Her body vibrated violently and without her permission. An impossible cold spread through her limbs. The tension that consumed her threatened to shatter her frozen bones until her body matched the crumpled mess of her soul. A single word managed to pierce the noise in her head.
Breathe.
She knew the voice was right, but somehow, the act of breathing seemed outside her realm of control. The thumb, which was pressed against the side of her neck, just at the edge of her jaw, began to move in soft strokes. She forced herself to take a breath, and the darkness at the edge of her vision started to recede.
Two words this time.
Good girl.
She fell to her hands and knees, watching as each tear darkened the earth below her. She dug her fingers into the ground to anchor herself and stop the slipping feeling that plagued her.
“We need to go.” Calder’s voice had grown more urgent, and the bite in it had her mind shifting.
Emer’s glassy eyes snapped to his, unsure of what she would find. She had sworn she was not dangerous. Sworn that she meant no harm.
Not only was she a killer, but she was also a liar.
Would Calder tell them it was an accident? Did it matter?
He pulled on her once more, growling something incoherent. She rocked back onto her heels as he tugged at her, trying to coax her to stand, but she could tell his patience was waning. Regardless of whether she lived out her days in a cell or if she was executed, her father would be damned by her crime. With her chin tucked against her chest and warm tears streaming down her face, she caught the glint of something at her side.
Dempsey’s blade.
When she watched her hand reach for the knife, she recognized the scars, but she did not feel in control of the act. It was as if the light that burned brightly inside her had reduced to a flickering candle. A soul so thoroughly broken, it surrendered to its baser instinct.
Survival.
It was not her survival that she was willing to fight for; but that of those she loved and because of the promise she made. She would do anything. Anything, she learned, meant scarring her body and staining her soul until she scarcely recognized herself.
Knife in hand, she looked at Calder, who watched her warily.
His eyes narrowed as he searched hers; he recognized the remorse, but it wasn’t until the knife’s pommel crashed against his temple that he realized what it was that he couldn’t quite place.
Resolve.
She scrambled to her feet, disbelief and bile clogging her throat as she looked at the collapsed form of the man who had just saved her. She could not help but recall the day their paths crossed and whether or not she had looked so broken when he found her sprawled on the shore. She hesitated for a moment before turning and breaking into a run.
Her legs shook with each step she took and her skin prickled as if the eyes of the entire keep watched her escape. As she reached the wooded area beyond the clearing, she heard the troubled call of the white bird that haunted her. Throwing herself behind a tree, she fell to her knees and vomited again. Her throat and eyes burned, and she wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball and cry. Time for such things was a luxury that neither she nor her family had. Rising to her feet, she pressed her nails into her palms and ran.
Darting through the forest felt much like when she swam for the surface of the sea. Every muscle in her body was devoted to hurdling herself towards the unknown. The thought of the monsters that awaited her in the woods would pale compared to Calder’s fury when he awoke, and that thought had her feet moving faster. She had not known the Sea Raven long, but she was certain he was not felled often nor easily. The only explanation for her ability to blindside him was that he had dropped his defenses as he held her; he did not expect her to strike. The moment he chose to trust her was the moment she chose to betray him. Despite her guilt, she would do it again if necessary because nothing would get in the way of keeping her promise, including a blue-eyed Raven.
Night fell quickly and though it did little to cover her deeds from the day, it did illuminate the consequences. Despite colliding with several trees, she was determined to gain ground. Her boot caught on another rogue root, sending her tumbling to the dirt. Groaning, she rolled herself on her back and mentally surveyed each of her limbs to determine if this latest incident was the one to finally shatter one or more of her bones. Satisfied that her limbs were whole and deciding it best they remain that way, she resigned herself to curl up next to the very root that had brought her to the ground. Pulling the cloak around her, she stared at the sky in the breaks between the trees. Several stars winked in and out and she could not help but scowl at the thought they were mocking her with a secret that only they knew. One they had no interest in revealing.
All the relief she felt when she managed to escape from the cliffside began to wane. Her legs ached, her stomach writhed, and her lips were turning blue. She was never supposed to do this alone. She was supposed to be with Lachlan. He had been to Isle Basalt before and said he could get her to Lunochy. They both agreed that she should be the one to make the request, that the Guardian would sense her love, feel her desperation, and recognize her belief. She may think the Elders were bastards, but she certainly believed. More than anything, she wished now she would have told her mother and Finn that she was leaving. She wished she would have said goodbye rather than slipped away in secret.
Her failures began almost the moment her boots left her homeland, and now she feared those who loved her would be left to wonder about her fate until they joined each other across the Array.
She had not been brave. She had been the desperate daughter of a dying man who thought she could be enough to fix things while slowly breaking herself. She clutched herself and wept over how wrong she had been.
The thunderous sound of men ’ s boots on the deck and booming voices caused Emer to shake with dread.
In the chaos, she fell, her body sprawled out on the deck, and a boot quickly met her back from one of the men who continued his course as if he had kicked a sack of potatoes. The shouts continued to surround her. Emer curled into the ache as she fought to catch her breath. She opened her eyes and rolled onto her back. It was only then that she was able to truly appreciate how doomed they were. The boat was no longer a vessel but a mass pyre prepared to sail their burning bodies across the Array.
Ready or not.
Water surrounded them as far as the eye could see, which, in the dead of night, was not as far as it stretched, but the men struggled to douse the flames. Emer crawled away from the commotion, rising to her feet. It quickly became clear that it was not only the blaze that the men fought. More flames poured over the boat. Flames carried by arrows that pierced through the night sky like nefarious little beings eager to consume everything they touched.
The men ’ s shouts were joined by the sound of splintering wood as the arrows embedded themselves deep into the boat ’ s surfaces. The air was thick with smoke and fear. Rough and powerful hands clamped down on her shoulders and began to jostle her.
“ Emer!” The voice and the hands of the man who held her demanded her attention, and it took what little strength remained to refocus on him.
“ Lachlan… I…” Her focus was pulled to her right as more wood splintered nearby.
“ Get to the Well,” he growled.
His words still echoed through her as her eyes flew open and she gasped for air.
A dream. A memory. A little more of her heart broken.
“Get to the Well,” she echoed through gritted teeth.
An oath to her father, an ode to Lachlan, and a command to herself. Emer did not sleep, instead she continued to recite her purpose like an incantation until the blue-gray of morning broke and she resumed her trek.
Not long before, she wouldn’t have even dreamed of seeing this strange place. As she hiked through the darkened forests, her bones stiff and soul tired, she felt no gratitude for finding herself in it. Even the song of the morning birds sounded mournful, a dark and dire melody.
Her path swayed as she walked, moving beneath the light that filtered through the canopy, hoping she could steal a moment of warmth. Clouds soon began to gather and she stiffened her jaw as she attempted to ignore the despair taking root .
When the first raindrops slipped past the frame made by her hood, acute rage followed in its wake. Her hands balled into fists at her sides as she raised her gaze to the sky. Each drop of rain that slid down her skin felt like a slap in the face. Whether it was the Elders’ cruelty or simply their indifference, she cursed them.
Soon, the rain began to pour in steady streams and her cloak was soaked through. The hem, having been designed for its much larger owner, dragged through the mud.
She had loved the rain once. She had loved so many things that now seemed to despise her. The sea, the stars, the rain. They had all turned on her, but she still felt safer with the elements than any of the Isle’s inhabitants, so she stayed far from the main path. The benefit was that she would be less likely to encounter others on her journey, the danger being she could easily become lost in the woods. She was no explorer but knew the basics of navigation using the North Star and the path of the sun.
In the distance sat the remnants of a dilapidated cottage. It was a strange site this far off the path and she wondered what caused its residents to seek such isolation. The frame had long since been claimed by its surroundings—a sign that those who once called it home had not done so for some time. The interior was damp, although a vast improvement from the outside, and the air was heavy with the scent of loam. The rotted floor gave way in several places, allowing the flora another route to claim the space. Vines and cobwebs intermingled, forming a macabre chandelier with drops of rain slipping down and glistening like jewels. While furniture was sparse, a table and fallen chairs were located against one of the walls, with a crumbling hearth on the other. Even though there were dry items available to leverage as kindling, she lacked the knowledge needed to build a fire without the benefit of Ravenstone to provide the spark.
She carefully crossed the creaking floor to where an armoire was situated in the corner and studied the trinkets and jars. The labels on the jars were obscured by layers of thick dust. Many had been broken, their contents aged and indistinguishable. The pungent scent of the air gave way to something else, something sweet. As quickly as it had overwhelmed her, it was gone, and she was left unable to place it.
Having soaked up most of the sky, she removed her cloak and draped it over the nearby chair. Her tunic did not fare much better and had grown translucent where it hung on her shoulders. Gripping the fabric, she wrung it out as best as she could before slipping down the far wall and allowing herself a momentary reprieve from the downpour.
Emer’s eyes closed, and her tired mind had the anxious thought that she had forgotten something important, but sleep claimed her before she could remember what it was.
She had forgotten to keep her eyes on him.