“How can this be? He was my sister’s child.” Nemain’s eyes
filled with tears. “What do we do next? I fear I was wrong to vouch for this
boy.”
“You can’t be blamed. Others have escaped the mines before,
but finding one in our village living among us—it’s hard to believe. The
tests themselves have remained untested since the founding of Chardwick,
hundreds and thousands of seasons past.”
“I just don’t understand how this could happen. I was there
when my sister gave birth to Edwin. This means Edwin isn’t her baby? Or was
she”—Nemain could hardly bring herself to say it—“somehow… involved
with the Others?”
Mistress Schuylar shook her head. “I can’t imagine Rona
involved with the Others. I always knew Edwin was different, even when I’d see
him outside the Black Keep.”
“Why are you talking about me like I’m not here?” Edwin
asked, but they continued to ignore him. Though he knew that he wouldn’t be
able to recover from reading in the Others’ language, a perverse part of him
wanted to hear them say it: He was a Host and they were going to sacrifice him
under the hallow tree.
“But there is still one more test,” Mistress Schuylar said.
“But he read the text! What possible need is there for the
final test? We should go to Lucent Weston immediately.”
“There are rules which must be followed, Nemain—”
“Look at me!” Edwin yelled. He blanched when they listened,
but he continued. “Please, what’s happening?”
“I am so sorry, Edwin,” Lady Nemain said, and Edwin saw that
she meant it. As scared as he was for himself, he couldn’t help but feel guilty
for the trouble he was causing her. “The ancient texts tell us of three tests.
You have failed two. It is for the Lucent and the Elders to decide what must be
done.”
“First we must perform the final test,” Mistress Schuylar said.
“I have one of the five horns. I’ll do it,” Lady Nemain
said.
* * *
As the room filled, Lady Nemain asked, “Are you sure it’s a
good idea to do this with the other children?”
“You know it has to be done with the other children to
verify the horn’s effect,” Mistress Schuylar replied.
“Join with me,” the spirit whispered, but Edwin brushed it
away with the back of his hand. When things got bad, his spirit would want him
to hurt people, and he couldn’t let that happen.
Walt wasn’t the first child to finally trickle in, but he
was the loudest. His brow was muddy with soot and sweat, and it was clear he had
just come from the mines. “Are the two of you mad? You mean to test the Fury on
Edwin?”
Lady Nemain shrank back at the accusation, leaving Mistress
Schuylar to respond. “Keep quiet, Walter. You’re interfering in something you
know nothing about. This is not your concern.”
Martha walked in, and Edwin heard her ask a boy standing
next to Edwin why they were called in when today wasn’t their day to train.
“Doesn’t concern me?” Walt said. “He’s my friend. Edwin
isn’t a traitor. I’ve lived with him—I’d know.”
Mistress Schuylar shook her head. “We follow the founders’
wisdom. There will be no more discussion on this, Walter.”
“But you can’t—”
“Not. Another. Word.”
Sam walked in just as Walt began to storm off. “This is
wrong,” he yelled over his shoulder. “You’re all wrong.” Sam ran behind him to
catch up.
“Edwin isn’t the only strange child in this town,” Mistress
Schuylar remarked.
“Perhaps, but his family is beyond reproach,” Lady Nemain said.
“Troubling times….” Mistress Schuylar’s voice trailed off.
When Martha’s puppies joined, Lady Nemain cleared her throat
and, her voice cracking, said, “Today we will be calling the Fury, but I can’t
give you any further instructions and you’ll have only the horn’s voice to
guide you. Mistress Schuylar, perhaps this would be a good time to leave. I can’t
make the horn’s call have a different effect on you than it does the others.”
“Are you sure you’ll be all right here alone?”
“Yes, don’t worry. I will do my duty,” Nemain said.
Mistress Schuylar nodded and quickly shuffled out.
“Lady Nemain,” Martha said hesitantly, “was Walt right? Have
we been summoned to use the Fury against Edwin?”
“No questions, please. The horn will tell you all you need
to know.” Lady Nemain looked like she might cry at any moment, but she held
herself together. Her eyes were wide with fear as she lifted the horn to her
unsmiling lips and blew on the small end.
This day’s call was different than any of the others Edwin
had heard. It wasn’t smooth, but choppy and filled with sorrow like a muffled
sob. Moving in like a dark cloud, the others’ eyes filled with darkness—only
for an instant—as the horn’s song put them under the Fury’s trance.
The spirit rubbed against his skin under his shirt. “Join
with me. Join with me now,” it said.
Edwin looked at the others, fast approaching, and couldn’t
think of anything else to do. Even though he knew this was a test, he had been
joined with his spirit before in the presence of the Fury, and they had thought
he was one of them. Deciding he couldn’t do nothing, he muttered, “Don’t think
I’ve forgiven you,” before he said the words of joining and they became one,
its essence flowing surreptitiously in a long, almost invisible stream past his
barely open mouth.
As the others came at him from every direction, getting
closer by the moment, the spirit fought for control, but Edwin held back. He
knew these kids, and he refused to let his spirit loose around them. Martha and
her puppies were closest, and they came at him using their hands like claws,
staggering towards him and closing rank with none of the agility or elegance
they normally had under the Fury.
Taking a few steps to get a running start, Edwin barreled
towards Martha and her puppies with his cloak, flowing behind him, snapping in
the wind. At the last second, he slid to the ground under the larger puppy’s
legs, and, not looking back, ran for the door. He knew even before he got there
that it would be locked but he felt that he had to try, and he still banged his
fist angrily against the door before spinning around, leaving his back against
the wall. Everyone was coming at him; there was nowhere left to run when Lady Nemain
again blew the horn. The sound meant nothing to him, but the others’ bodies
became less stiff, allowing them to move faster.
Pech was the nearest now. Disadvantaged in both height and
girth—especially girth—Edwin waited until Pech was almost on top of
him before he grabbed him by the arm, fell on his back, and flung the heavy boy
over him with the soles of his feet. Pech hit the wall behind him with a thud.
The fight was moving faster now. A girl grabbed him from
behind, and someone else tried to grab his cloak, but its iridescent black
folds were slick as ice. Ducking forward, he only narrowly avoided a punch from
Martha, who hit the girl holding Edwin instead. Edwin lurched forward into
Martha’s arms, and everyone was suddenly on him at once punching, kicking, and
clawing from every direction.
But with the spirit’s essence in him, he didn’t lose
control. Moving too quickly to keep track of himself, he was struggling to
shake himself free when the horn abruptly sounded again. The others stood up
straight, and their eyes flashed a milky-white a moment as they regained their
senses. Without the Fury’s guidance, they backed away, giving Edwin his space.
Rand’s mouth was hanging open. Pushing up his glasses, he
said, “He defended himself without the Fury.”
“No one can fight that way without the Fury,” a puppy said.
Martha tried to pat down some of her disheveled hair; her
pigtails had never looked worse. “We all know what the call said. Edwin would
have attacked himself if he’d heard it.”
So that was the test
, Edwin thought.
No one seemed aware of Lady Nemain until she forcibly moved
to Edwin’s side. She was holding a bejeweled staff, and she used it to nudge him
forward. “Come with me, Edwin. Mistress Schuylar is waiting for us. I think
it’s time to see the Lucent.”
On the road to the village square, Edwin wondered how far he
would get if he killed Lady Nemain, took the horn, and ran. Lady Nemain caught
Edwin staring at her arm, and as though reading his mind, she lifted the horn
to her mouth and blew. The call was too loud to be held back by brick, and villagers
poured from their homes and surrounded him, blindly following the Fury. Edwin
looked away, ashamed, and blamed his bond with the spirit for having such
terrible thoughts.
Lady Nemain again blew her horn when they reached the large
arch. Like an opening gate, the crowd in front of Edwin moved to his side, and
he saw that Lucent Weston and the four Shades waiting for him. The bald Shade
was spinning her hand lazily, and in front of her a large solid gold box rested
on a cloud of spinning dust. Tiny gold characters covered the entire box,
making him uneasy; he was sure it was written in the Host’s language.
Bowing deeply, Lady Nemain said, “Lucent Weston, your
presence honors us. We have brought you the abomination hidden amongst us.” She
was trying to be strong, but Edwin heard pain in her voice. “He has failed the
three tests: he has been found to possess the sight, he can read the unknowable
tongue, and he resists the Fury. As custom dictates, we have brought him to you
to do with as you will.”
With his heavy white robes flowing behind him, the Lucent
took a step towards Edwin. Edwin was struck by how, beneath the white robes and
long white beard, the Lucent seemed like any other old man. The Lucent leaned
against his cane, adjusted his spectacles, and said, “The path set before us by
the founders is clear in this matter. You are a sign of the dark times
returning. I have brought the Umbrage Box to perform the final act. May
it rid our land of your sins and send the darkness back into the mines.”
Edwin’s mind screamed. He may have done horrible, despicable
things, but he didn’t want to die. He pulled his cloak tight around him, trying
to be strong. “What will it do?”
“The Box will separate you from what you hold most dear.
Open it,” the Lucent said.
Edwin’s legs shook as he nodded and approached. The spirit
wanted a last stand; it wanted him to defend himself, to do whatever he must.
But as he looked around, at the bloodstones in Mistress Schuylar’s umbrella, at
the long pass up the cliff, he knew that a fight would be hopeless: There were
too many of them. They could absorb his powers, and they had the Fury. Even if
he fought as he had never fought and used every power available to him, it
wouldn’t be enough. His eyes met Lady Nemain’s. She was scared and confused,
but to Edwin she had always been so kind; she didn’t deserve to die in a
hopeless battle. The spirit wouldn’t get its way, not this time. Steeling his
resolve, he told himself that if he tried really hard maybe he could be brave.
As Edwin got closer, the bald Shade dropped the box to the
ground with a flick of her wrist.
The others who have seen it have met their
doom
, Edwin recalled from
The Lost Words
, but he refused to panic,
knowing the spirit might gain control if he did.
Kneeling down, Edwin touched the box’s lid. It felt as cold
as snow. Running his fingertips over the gold characters, he tried to make out
the words, but they formed nonsense.
And then with his hand still on it, the lid began to
vibrate, as though it recognized his touch. Moaning, metal scraped against
metal, and the lid began to open. He heard Lady Nemain’s gasp, but it was
almost too unimportant to notice as from the depths of the Umbrage Box came the
whitest of lights. Only, the light wasn’t white at all… It was every color
blended together, with its parts barely discernable beneath the blinding
argent. As the lid rose, the light crawled up Edwin’s body. Against his cloak,
the light danced and was separated into its many colors. He held his breath and
awaited the light’s ascent.
Silently, the light hit the ribbon holding his cloak around
his neck, and he felt it burn hot against his skin as it filled the air with a
screeching wail. Light exploded around him, blinding him and everyone else in
the village square. Unable to see, Edwin wondered a moment if this was death.
The next sound Edwin heard was the Lucent calling for Lady Nemain
to blow her horn and for the Shades to stop him. The light had blinded them all,
and he knew that this was his chance, if only he could see.
“Lead me. Help me,” he told the spirit.
Before he could move, a hand grabbed his, and he heard
Walt’s voice: “Come on. Hurry!”
Picking himself up off the snow, Edwin stumbled behind him. Lady
Nemain called on the Fury, undoubtedly to stop him, but its call was no help. Edwin
fell more than once, but each time Walt was there to help him up. Once Walt
stopped him just in time to avoid a Shade’s fireball; he felt the wave of heat
pass just in front of him. Before he knew it, he was inside enjoying the warmth
of a more benign fire.
* * *
Still unable to see, Edwin asked, “Where are we?”
“We’re at my house. My aunts will be back later tonight.
It’s just us now.”
Without thinking, Edwin grabbed Walt, hugged him, and, his
whole body shaking, said, “Thank you.” Any composure he had managed to hold
onto left him, and not even being joined with his spirit calmed him.
Walt patted his shoulder for a good while. When Edwin
trusted himself to speak again, he asked, “What happened back in the village
square?”
“My aunts gave you an enchanted ribbon. They knew if you
were discovered the villagers would take you to the Umbrage Box.”
“Your aunts gave me the ribbon? That woman from the
fair—Gretchen—she’s your aunt?”
“Yes, and the fortuneteller you met is my Aunt Mina.”
The ribbon around Edwin’s neck suddenly felt tight,
suffocating, and he felt himself struggling to breathe. Walt, his aunts, they
had deceived him, but they had also saved him. “Who…
what
… are you?” he
asked.
Walt’s laugh was easy and carefree, as though nothing were
out of the ordinary. “I’m not a Host, if that’s what you mean. I’m your friend.
I’ve always been your friend.”
Edwin sensed that the spirit was as uncomfortable as he was.
“But… I don’t understand. You knew this entire time? Why didn’t you tell me?
Did you know this would happen?”
“We all have our secrets, Edwin. My family has strong ties
to this village, and we have waited a long time for you. My aunts have traveled
here to protect you, but they couldn’t risk exposing themselves by telling you
sooner. Today shouldn’t have happened. This all started with your potion
making. Schuylar thought you were such a natural because you possessed the
sight, but the sight is so much more than knowing how to make some silly
elixirs. Do you want to know the funny thing? I don’t think you even have the
sight, at least not yet—I think you’re just smart. This all started over
a sign that wasn’t even there. But then there were the other signs, and it was
too late.”
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?”
“Do you know how long it’s been since the last Host? We were
afraid, we didn’t know anything about you…”
“I never knew anything,” Edwin said. He felt like a weight
had been lifted. “You saved me. I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you enough.”
“Like I said, I’m your friend. And don’t worry, I imagine
you’ll be able to see anytime now. My aunts weren’t all that specific.”
Leaning back on the sofa, Edwin closed his eyes. “What do
you know about the Hosts? Why does everyone want to kill me?”
“I don’t know. All I know is that the Hosts left a sanctuary
of sorts in the mines that—”
“What? I’ve never heard anyone mention any kind of
sanctuary!” Edwin interrupted.
“Well, talking about the Hosts around here can get you into
trouble, if you haven’t noticed. The story as my mom used to tell it is that many,
many generations ago the Hosts fought a battle on this very spot, right here
where they founded Chardwick. Imagine, it had been twenty Hosts against an army
of thousands, but the Hosts had been able to hold their own. Think of how much
power they must have had!” Walt’s eagerness made Edwin nervous, but he kept his
mouth shut. “My favorite part of the story was always hearing about the Hosts’
powers, but my mom was probably just making up those parts. Anyway, when the
Hosts knew they’d lost, they created a refuge for all the creatures the army
hunted, and they hid it in the mine. Mom said it was because the Hosts thought
people would forget. They would move on, leave this place, lose their way, and whatever
remained could escape the sanctuary and have a second chance. But the army
found the sanctuary, and the Hosts had underestimated the army’s resolve. The
army founded Chardwick on the ashes of the battle, in the crater where the
Hosts had created their sanctuary, and they have destroyed everything to come
from their sanctuary every since—except you.”
“But… How do you know any of this?” Edwin asked, dumbstruck.
“It would probably be better to ask my aunts. I know you
must have a lot of questions—we all do. My aunts say a lot of the knowledge
of the old ways has been lost.”
“How do you know the villagers won’t find me here? They must
be looking.”
“My aunts are powerful women with ties to the Lucent. You’ll
be safe as long as you stay here.”
As Edwin’s sight began to return, he first saw the outline
of the fire, and slowly objects around the large den began to take form. An
iron cauldron was in the corner next to the fire, and Gretchen’s bottles of
charms littered the table in front of him, each with its own ribbon tied at the
top. Five terrible masks hung from the wall over the fireplace. “What are
they?” Edwin asked.
Following Edwin’s gaze, Walt replied, “The masks? They’re
elements: earth, fire, water, and wind.”
The one on the far left was black, and had horns on
its head and small bones hanging from its chin like a beard. Next to it was a mask
that looked like the sun; it had a beaked nose and was wrapped in red-orange
feathers. The third mask was round, bloated, and blue, whereas the fourth was
narrow and had a thick mane of white hair. The last mask was plain and empty;
it had slits for eyes and a nose, but its mouth was a simple frown.
“Hmm… What about the last one?”
“It’s what binds it all together, time and chance.” Walt
smiled facetiously. “That’s why it’s blank. Ever changing. My aunts each made
one. They make the wearer invisible, but only if there’s a connection. If you
and I put one on, we’d look silly but nothing would happen. Anyway, you must be
tired. Let me show you your room.”
“I have a room?”
“Of course,” Walt said cheerfully, and he led Edwin up a
spiral staircase to a hall with three rooms. Walt took him past the first two
and opened the door at the end. “Here you are. I’m across the hall, and Sam has
the first room.”
The room was plain, but the bed was lush, covered in layers
of sheets and blankets, and he could imagine burrowing as deep as he liked on a
cold night. A week before, Edwin would have wanted nothing more than a room of
his own in a quiet house. But in that moment, with the villagers searching for
him and Walt knowing more about what he was than he did, all he wanted to do
was talk to his spirit or try to find answers in his mother’s book. Across the
room stood a large window hiding behind heavy drapes, and he crossed the room
and took a peek at the road below.
Suddenly Walt’s hand was on his shoulder. “Hurry, get away
from the window. Close the door and keep it locked until I get back.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Sam is back,” Walt replied, already at the door and talking
fast. “There’s more than one view of our family’s legacy. It’s complicated.
Don’t unlock the door until I come back.”
Walt closed the door, and a second later Edwin heard him
running down the staircase. Edwin turned the metal key and the bolt clicked
into place. The wood floor squeaked at his every step, so he sat down with his
back against the door, pulled his legs to his chest, and wrapped himself in his
cloak.
A moment passed, and he heard the door downstairs open. At
first there was only the sound of muffled talking. He whispered the words to
release the spirit and felt suddenly empty, but he told it to go downstairs and
find out what it could hear. But before the spirit had even left the room,
Edwin heard the words, “You brought him here?” There was running up the stairs,
followed by the sound of two bodies slamming against the floor.
“Get off me!” Sam yelled.
“Calm. Down,” Walt grunted, and Edwin heard him struggling
to hold Sam down.
“You can’t bring him here! He has to leave. He has to leave
now
!”
“Be quiet! Let’s go talk about this downstairs,” Walt said.
“But we have to get him out of here,” Sam yelled, still
struggling.
“Downstairs,” Walt repeated, and the sound of struggling
stopped.
They descended the stairs, and Edwin shifted his body and
put his ear to the ground, hoping to hear more, as the spirit’s essence
disappeared under the door. But he never heard another sound. A few minutes
later the spirit returned to the room.
“What did you hear?” Edwin mouthed.
“They sstare at each other but ssay nothing,” hissed
his spirit. “From the way they stare, it seemss they speak without wordss.”
After many tense moments passed, the spirit added, “I still
think we should leave.”
“Why? Walt saved us. He’s my friend.”
“He lied to you,” the spirit replied. When Edwin didn’t
argue, a black spark crackled in the belly of the spirit’s essence and it retreated
back under the door. He hoped it was going back downstairs to see if it could
learn more. With his head still on the floor, his eyes began to feel heavy, and
though he would have never thought it possible, he fell asleep.