Chapter 5 #2
Slowly, people stepped forward. My stomach fell, and the feeling of bile rising inside returned.
All I could do to keep it at bay was remind myself that Alona wasn’t there.
The Veiler had promised. While normally I would never value the word of a Veiler, I needed to believe that this was different.
I needed to believe he meant what he said, and that Alona was safe; otherwise, I might break entirely.
I watched as the redheaded woman from before, Renata, walked intently by those who had stepped forward. She looked them over, searching. I wondered what she was looking for. Was she going to cut them like she had cut me?
Renata stopped in front of a young girl about Alona’s age and then nodded to another Veiler. The Veiler then pulled her from the line. A woman sobbed, and a man cursed.
The girl stepped into the torchlight, and I recognized her as the baker’s daughter, Serene. She was fourteen and one of the sweetest people in Oak Hollow. She delivered bread every Saturday and was one of the few people that my mother opened the door for. I mourned for her family already.
The second person Renata stopped in front of was Oliver.
Oliver was sixteen and the son of the blacksmith, Duris, though he was drastically different from his father.
He was a slender kid with a quiet and aloof demeanor.
I saw him wield a sword only once—he dropped it on his foot and lost a toe.
Oliver was often seen in the library with his nose in a book. That’s where he seemed most himself.
When Oliver was pulled forward, Duris drew his sword. A Veiler quickly placed a dagger over Oliver’s heart and spoke.
“Don’t be a fool and stand in the way of fate. It would be a pity to end his life before it’s really begun, wouldn’t it?” threatened the Veiler, causing Duris to step back and drop his sword. “Wise choice.”
Serene and Oliver’s wrists were bound with rope like mine, and led over to where I still knelt on the Ground.
Renata glanced at the Veilers that held us and communicated silently with a simple nod.
I was yanked to my feet, and my knees throbbed as I wobbled to find my balance.
Renata then turned to address the villagers.
“It is in Aeta’s name that we execute Her will.
These three have been divinely chosen to present their worth to Our Lady of the Stars.
If they are found worthy, they will return to you.
It is a great honor to be chosen by Our Lady.
Regarding your few dead, bury them honorably as Anam demands it.
” Renata exited the square, and I was shoved in the same direction.
Serene, Oliver, and I were led out of Oak Hollow and into the thick brush of the surrounding forest. The rocks and twigs scraped the pads of my bare feet. Pain mixed with apprehension of what was to come was all that I felt.
The short hike ended when we approached a herd of twenty horses guarded by five Veilers. There were eight people mounted on the horses, but they didn’t look like Veilers. They weren’t dressed in black and wore no masks. Some even looked to be as young as Alona.
The understanding hit me then.
They were the others who had been taken in the Culling of their villages. They looked at us apathetically, exhaustion coating their expressions.
That was what we were to become.
The Veiler that held my rope tugged me toward a black horse.
I could barely see the creature because it blended in so well with the night, much like the Veilers themselves.
He reached into the satchel that was strapped to the back of the saddle and pulled out a small bottle and some gauze.
The Veiler poured the clear liquid from the bottle, which smelled to be alcohol, over the wound he had gotten from grabbing my blade.
He threw his head back and gritted his teeth. Then, he wrapped his hand in the gauze.
“Show me your cut hand,” he commanded. When I didn’t immediately give him my hand, he sighed. “Infection sets in quickly and kills even faster. Is that what you want?” he challenged. I reluctantly shook my head and offered him my cut palm. “It will hurt. But it’s better than losing an arm.”
He quickly poured the alcohol onto my cut before I could change my mind. I kept my eyes shut as tears welled up. The pain was searing, and I yelped as my knees gave out and I fell to the Ground.
“Stand. I need to wrap it.”
I slowly stood and allowed him to wrap my hand so tightly that my fingers tingled.
The Veiler put the materials back in the satchel and fastened its leather straps.
He then lifted me onto the front portion of the horse’s saddle, mounting behind me soon afterward.
The sounds of whimpers and shuffling hooves filled the air.
A lone raven cawed, flying overhead, its ever-watchful eyes observing us from above. I was taught that ravens were the scouts of death.
Wherever they flocked, death followed.
The Veiler reached for the horse’s reins, and we took off into the night.