Broken (2 page)

She felt his shock and pain and cried out with him.

Memories flooded her mind, ones they shared, as children, and new ones she had never seen before.

Meghan wondered, briefly, if in her moment of death, this is what it would feel like. She stored the rush of memories, the good and the bad… It was the least she could do for the brother she loved so dearly.

She let go of the knife, leaving it in her brothers back.

He slumped onto the ground, next to the still Catrina and her unborn child.

Colin Jacoby was dead.

Killed by the hands of his sister and once protector.

He was no longer present in Meghan’s mind. She had never wanted to experience it again… his absence, and the emptiness it left behind.

This time, it was for good. He would not return.

She would never again hear his thoughts or be comforted by his presence.

8

The magical barrier, which Colin had created, vanished with Colin’s final breath, and Ivan and Nona rushed to Meghan’s side.

No cheers resounded in the field of victory.

Only whimpers over the lives that had to be ended.

Ivan Crane held Meghan Jacoby close.

“You did what had to be done,” he repeated.

Nona rubbed her face against Meghan’s, but did not feel her there. She could not breathe.

She could not see.

She had committed the ultimate betrayal.

She may have destroyed the evil that had taken control of the world, but that evil had taken control of her brother.

“She was pregnant, Ivan,” Meghan then choked out. “We killed an innocent child.”

“It is regretful,” he whispered, taking her head into his hands. Looking Meghan in the eye, he added, “They hid that secret well, but it changed nothing. Had we allowed that child to be born, it would have suffered the same fate.”

Meghan knew Ivan was right. Why did he always have to be right?

“We both knew you were the only one who could ever get close enough, Meghan. I am just so sorry that it had to be you. If I could have done it for you …” he did not finish.

The realization of the lives she had taken was more than Meghan could bear. Her tears turned to sobs. She fell to her knees, her mind reaching out for the brother that could no longer hear her.

Ivan kept his arms wrapped around her, knowing there was nothing he could say to ease her pain. After a minute, he helped her stand.

The Svoda army stood behind, unsure of what to do next. No one could say or do anything to take away Meghan Jacoby’s pain.

Meghan closed her eyes, not wishing to see Colin and Catrina Jacoby’s lifeless bodies, but she could not forget. Her mind’s eye saw the knife stabbing them, over and over again. Her head grew dizzy and at that moment, her body gave out.

Ivan Crane swiped her into his arms, gently kissing her forehead, and then carried her away from the memories he knew she would never forget.

A flame flickered, casting a woman’s silhouette against a cave wall.

“This is a future I cannot allow to happen,” she whispered to the shadows.

After the candle, of the daughter she had believed dead, had lit months before, she had intensely desired to have a vision of her daughter’s future. However, the vision she had just witnessed was devastating and her heart felt heavy with the weight of it. She leapt to her feet, dashing through the rows of lit candles, searching for one in the shape of a young man.

She found it and knelt down on the cold ground.

“I will not allow this future to take place!” she then spat out determinedly. “But if I am to succeed at changing this future I will need his help.”

9

She peered into the flames, whispering.

“Hear me, child.”

The young man in the flame lay sleeping in a bed. He stirred, but did not wake.

“Hear me,” she repeated. “You must find me.”

The young man replied, while yet asleep.

“Where must I go?” he muttered.

“When you awake, you will know where to find me.”

“Why must I find you?” the boy then asked.

“Because I can show you, Sebastien Jendaya, how to save the ones you lost and love.” Sebastien did not answer. His eyes darted back and forth under closed eyelids, dreaming vividly of a vast forest leading to the entrance of a cave.

2

“We have been walking for an hour,” said Meghan Jacoby, nearly dropping her bags from exhaustion.

“Yes, I know,” replied her brother, Colin. “I’ve been listening to you complain about it the entire time.”

Meghan retorted by sticking out her tongue.

She walked alongside Colin, near the back of the caravan, as they headed toward their new home, both glad to be out of Limbo.

Colin could not have gotten out of Limbo fast enough. He was harboring Catrina Flummer, and inevitably, questions and stares ensued, upon everyone learning that he, a magical newcomer, had killed a Scratcher. A feat never accomplished before even by the most powerful of the Svoda Gypsies.

Ivan Crane stepped cautiously a few steps behind them. Although he could not see Catrina at Colin’s side, he knew she was there, and appeared reluctant to let allow too much distance between them. Meghan, as well as Colin, knew Ivan well enough to know how badly he wanted Catrina to tell him everything she knew about his mother.

“We’re almost there now,” they all heard someone announce, up ahead. Many sighs of relief echoed through the weary travelers, many of whom still nursed injuries from the battle with Eidolon, the Goblin King.

The caravan stepped out of the dark forest they had journeyed through and into a bright meadow that glistened with a cover of recently fallen rain. Everyone stopped, temporarily 10

blinded by the brightness. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust, and as each member regained clear visibility, no one moved. Instead, they waited with baited breath, each staring in confused awe at an unexpected sight.

Fire had swept through the meadow, leaving behind only remnants of the huts that should have been their new homes. Smoke still smoldered on the wet ground. Belongings from the previous tenants lay strewn about the meadow, as if someone had been searching for something, and at the same time, indicating that the people living in the huts had either no chance of escape, or had made such a hasty retreat they had left everything behind.

Juliska Nandalia Blackwell, Banon (leader and Queen) of the Svoda Gypsies, took a few steps forward, followed by her personal Balaton, Jelen and Jenner Wandrer. They were brutish looking men, and also, brothers.

“Everyone, stay here,” she ordered softly, in as much disbelief and concern as the rest of the group.

“Could this be a trap?” asked Jelen, as she stepped into the meadow.

“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. “You two, check the perimeter. Once we know its safe we will allow the rest to enter.”

Her personal Balaton left her side and examined the entire meadow. There was no sign of a trap. Or life. Or anything that indicated what had occurred in the meadow, other than destruction.

Juliska motioned for the caravan to follow her. The Svoda remained silent, in awe of the devastation that lay before them, growing more fearful with each step.

Meghan left Colin’s side to follow Ivan. She assumed he would be following Juliska. Colin stayed in the back of the group, behind the Mochrie family, with Catrina, still invisible, by his side.

Suddenly a woman cried out in angst, shaking the rest of the group into life.

The woman ran to a muddy blanket lying, still folded, on the ground. She grasped it in her hands, falling onto her knees.

“This blanket belongs to my daughter. I made it for her unborn child before we left our island.”

The woman’s statement confirmed the Svoda’s worst fear: the belongings in the meadow belonged to another Svoda caravan.

“So where is everyone?” It was Billie Sadorus, who asked the question they were all thinking.

No one dared reply.

Cautiously, they stepped into the meadow, looking for any obvious clues. But the rest of the meadow held the same ominous scene: smoldering fire, strewn belongings, and no sign of life.

Juliska Blackwell swallowed hard and then made an announcement.

“Initiated members, organize into your zones at once, we meet within the hour. Non-Initiated members, set up temporary living quarters, away from the devastation.” She paused, 11

her face set in determination. “We will discover what has happened here. We will not leave until we do!”

The caravan buzzed, nervously setting in to obeying their leader’s orders. They searched their own belongings for tents and other camping supplies, setting up in the only corner of the meadow not covered in smoldering fires or haphazardly discarded belongings.

The Balaton set up a larger tent for zone meetings, which stood in between the tents for living in and the devastation in the meadow. In the center of their new living space, a cantina began to take shape.

Meghan and Colin helped the Mochries set up their tent, and were surprised at how fast the temporary tent city took shape. Exactly an hour later, all zone members headed for the large meeting tent, leaving everyone else to finish unpacking.

The meeting was surprisingly short. When it ended, everyone gathered in the cantina.

“The Viancourt will vote now,” Ivan informed Meghan, Colin and Jae, upon seeing them.

“On what?” Jae asked him.

“We’ll find out soon,” Ivan replied.

A few minutes later, Pantin Hollee exited the tent, ready with an announcement.

“All zones leaders met and spoke their views, and the Viancourt has taken a vote and decided unanimously, that as of this moment, the following rules will be strictly enforced.” The meadow was silent as she spoke.

“No one is to leave this meadow without the direct permission of the Viancourt. A curfew is set for sunset, meaning you must all be in your tents by the time the sun is down, and, no one shall use magic unless instructed by the Viancourt to do so!” she paused, taking a breath.

“The Balaton,” she then continued, “are setting up special measures, which will track any and all magic that has been or is used in the meadow. Anyone discovered using magic will be considered as interfering with this investigation, and will be promptly and severely punished!”

Pantin Hollee paused again.

“These rules are necessary if we are to discover the terrible truth about what has taken place here.”

The group shouted their agreement. These rules seemed a small price to pay for the answers they all desperately wanted.

“Now disperse,” added Pantin Hollee. “Tomorrow at first light, all zone leaders will attend a mandatory meeting to discuss further developments and plans. Until then, keep your eyes and ears open, and most of all, be safe.”

12

3

Colby and his Catawitch, Elisha, trudged up a steep hill. At the top of the hill stood two trees, the trunks of which were tall and straight, but whose branches entwined around each other, like a gated entrance. The corner of Colby’s mouth turned up slightly. His bright blue eyes peered sideways at Elisha.

“You know what to do,” he said.

His Catawitch then took out her front right paw and extended a claw, scratching Colby’s hand. He winced only slightly, allowing the blood to pool in his palm. He then stood in between the two trees, allowing the blood to pour out of his palm and onto the ground.

The instant it hit the ground a voice echoed.

“Welcome home young master. Your blood is true and you may enter.” Elisha jumped into Colby’s arms and began licking his wounded hand.

“Terrible! Vile! Appalling!” she cattishly admonished. “Requiring a blood sacrifice every time you come home.”

“Father has to be sure it’s really me, Elisha. You know this.”

“Still, it’s cruel that I have to hurt my master each time he comes home.”

“But I’ve got you to heal me, don’t I?” he reminded her.

Elisha had already healed his wounded hand, using her Catawitch magic to do so. She jumped down, parading alongside him.

They no longer stood atop a lonely hill, but rather at the entrance of a vast estate. Colby stepped onto the cobblestone driveway, soon crossing a small wooden bridge. A stream trickled underneath, feeding the surrounding lush gardens with water.

“Ah, welcome home young master Colby,” a voice spoke just after he crossed the bridge.

Colby turned to see an older man sitting on an upside down bucket, with his gloved hands elbow deep into another steaming bucket. The foul stench quickly found Colby’s nose.

“I’ll never understand my father’s love of gardens,” he said.

The man got up off his bucket and leisurely made his way toward Colby. Manure still covered his elbow length gloves.

“Your father has good taste, Young Master. Knows good food when he’s had it! Would you want to live off that stuff the others call food? Where they got the idea to use magic to grow their food I’ll never figure out! Only had to try it once to see just how clearly using magic to grow food is about as idiotic as digging a water well in a sandbox! Nope. I’ll be your father’s gardener till my death, and happy to do it.” He then went back to his smelly, steaming bucket and left Colby to his own business.

Colby did not give any more thought to the matter. He had news to share with his father.

News he hoped would please his father immensely.

13

Then his father appeared, standing in front of him at the entrance to the main house. His father’s aged and gaunt face made no change at the sight of his son. He and Colby looked like ants standing in front of the house, which towered well above the tree line.

“Hello father,” said Colby. “I have news.”

Jurekai Fazendiin, the unspoken ruler of the immortal Grosvenor, motioned for his son to follow him, but said nothing.

Colby knew the drill well. He followed his father down a long corridor, knowing he would not speak of business until in the one room he knew with absolute certainty was safe for business conversations.

The long corridor opened to an oval room with ceilings a good thirty feet above Colby’s head. The room and walls were bare, except for a stained glass portrait. Fazendiin stared fondly at the woman portrayed in the stained glass. She was dark haired, pale skinned, and her head tilted to one side, leaning against a pillow, sleeping.