50. Bea
BEA
Brennen and I haven’t spoken again, though we both sit by the fire, staring into the After. It will not be long now until they come. But at least I will not be alone tonight.
I poke at a log with a stick, my mind still reeling from Brennen’s revelation.
Finally, I break the silence. “The deaths have been scattered all throughout the kingdom. Surely whoever’s behind them isn’t traveling village to village picking people at random.
” It's a thought that's plagued my mind as the day has passed. “None of the deaths has a cause. It’s not murder. I’ve seen murder. These lives simply end.”
Brennen picks up his bird. “I've wondered the same," he says. But I don’t think whoever it is has to be with the woman at all. The Cutter isn’t, when she severs our threads. I’ve seen her do it.”
He scrapes his knife across the wood, then stares down at his wrist for a long moment.
“Our dedication dàn connects us to the magic within the kingdom, but it also blocks us from accessing that magic freely. We can only manifest it in the specific ways the Fates decide. But if someone figured out how to work outside them, to get magic from the earth itself, their power could be endless.”
“But could they have enough to overpower the Fates’ will?”
He shakes his head. “I dinnae think it’s about having more power at all.
All magic is connected. The fairy pools nourish it, and it flows into streams and rivers to feed the earth.
The trees and flowers. When the dead pass through the mist, their magic is returned to the After.
If someone could tap into the same magic the Fates pull from, it’s possible they could translate that power into whatever abilities they wanted, instead of being limited by the Fates’ choices. ”
His words make sense, and yet somehow, they only cause more confusion. “But if someone is stealing the Cutter’s magic, you’d think she’d want to know it, wouldn’t you? So she could stop them? Why would she just ignore your warning?”
Brennen’s lips arch into an almost sneer. “The Cutter is prideful," he says, and my mouth drops open in shock.
“I never thought I'd ever hear you speak badly about your queen," I say.
He meets my eyes. “I never thought any of this would be happening.”
I’m about to ask what he means when the wind shifts, and once again, in an instant, I am no longer at the river.
A sweltering heat hits me as a blacksmith shop comes into focus, dark except for the orange glow of the fire in the forge.
A woman stands over an anvil, a rounding hammer in her hand.
She beats at a glowing piece of metal, singing as she works.
So sing till the song takes the life it was due,
Some hands hold the blade, and some hands hold the truth.
When the river runs red and the After draws near,
The darkness will come and bring all that you fear.
A song cannae tell you the time it will end.
As long as you live, a new one can begin.
A thread cannae cut if it cannae be seen.
If I asked it of you, would you hide mine for me?
The song calls to something in me, but I don’t give myself time to think about what it is.
“You have to run," I say. The woman jumps.
“Who are you? How did you get in here?”
“You're in danger, and you will die if you don’t do as I say. Do you understand?” I sound insane, rabid, but I don’t know how else to get her to listen. “You're not safe!” I say again when she doesn’t move, louder this time. “You need to run!”
“You'll not come into my place of business and threaten me," she says.
“I'm not threatening you, I'm warning you. Women are dying, have you not heard? And if you don't listen to me, you’ll be next.”
The blacksmith is not amused, nor does she seem concerned.
“Get out,” she says, stalking toward me with her hammer raised. “Out!”
Her dedication dàn flashes as she approaches, and it hits me like a bolt of lightning straight in the chest.
Brennen's words. The dedication dàn tethering us to the magic of the kingdom. All magic being connected. How it gives the Fate’s power over our abilities. The woman from my dreams flashes in my mind, her dedication dàn so disfigured, it’s unrecognizable.
A thread cannae cut if it cannae be seen…
“Get out,” she screams, but I do not listen.
I scan the room until my eyes land on a sharp blade cooling in a tin of water.
I lunge for it, then turn it on the woman.
She raises her hammer overhead and strikes.
The metal glances across my forehead, but I don’t stop.
My dàn of weapon accuracy flares, and I pin her arm down to the table and dig the blade into her skin, slicing through the dàn with expert precision.
She cries out in pain, swinging wildly as I disfigure her flesh, cutting through the dàn until it no longer resembles a sigil at all.
“I'm sorry! I had to—”
She lifts the hammer and, with a roar, brings it down toward my temple. I lunge back, tripping on the uneven flooring, and fall.
She stalks to me, leaning over me and once again raising her now bloody hammer.
I cover my head with my hands, closing my eyes, and then the heat disappears. Brennen is standing above me, his eyes creased with concern.
“You started bleeding. Your skin just opened up, and you were bleeding.” He reaches out as if to wipe the blood away, but freezes.
I scramble to my knees and crawl to the river, my heart racing. The cold water bites into my skin as I hold my breath, a stark contrast to Brennen’s heat as he approaches from behind, but I do not look at him. Can't bear to pull my eyes away from the river.
It swirls, brown and muddy, and the wind gets even stronger, whipping at my hair.
“Please,” I beg. “Please let it have worked.”
There's a moment where the river surges, a wave that flows from upstream and crashes toward the After, spilling down into it. And then, the water goes still.
I hold my breath, pulling myself to stand on shaking legs. Is it possible it worked? My eyes search upstream, my heart thundering in my chest. No clothes appear, and the river sighs, caressing my legs like it’s thanking me.
Tears sting my eyes as I turn to Brennen.
His hands are clenched into fists, his eyebrows raised in surprise. But in his eyes is complete awe. Admiration, even. “You did it, didnae you?” he asks, nearly breathless.
A wide smile breaks out on my face. “I think I did,” I whisper, turning back to my river.
Her water continues to flow around my legs, gentle and clear.
And there is no name on the wind.
No face in the water.
No clothes.
Tears burn my eyes because, for the first time in over a century, I am stronger than the river.