Chasing Shadows (Saving Galerance, Book 1) (14 page)

She almost made the mistake of telling him her full name,
Norabel Grove. That would have certainly gotten her red-flagged. All surnames
had been outlawed under the Pax. According to Amias, surnames could start wars;
they were dangerous familial ties that made people do stupid things.
Technically, Norabel wasn’t even supposed to know her last name. Her father had
told it to her the night before they left for home, saying that it had been
their family’s name for centuries because of the plot of trees they had looked
after.

The man looked gravely down at his ledger and ran his quill
down the list. “No number?” he asked gruffly.

“No,” she answered quietly. Since the Pax outlawed
everything except the use of the first name, numbers had to be employed to keep
everyone’s names straight. Mason, for example, was actually titled Mason the
Eighth on the ledger book. Norabel, on the other hand, was a name unique to her,
and so required no number to distinguish her from others.

Finding her name, the man scrawled the time next to it. He
didn’t bother to look up as he commanded, “Go.”

Despite the summer warmth, Norabel felt unexplainably colder
as she walked away from the checkpoint. It just didn’t seem to be a good way
to start the day. And, if she was honest, she missed the triangle smile and
sparkling green eyes that normally greeted her every morning.

Shaking her head, she reminded herself that she had to hurry
quickly to work. Hunter was probably just given the day off, she reasoned.
Since he had to work during the festival. It made sense, really.

That day, Norabel had to work through lunch in order to
fulfill her boss’s orders for the day. When she had shown up to work seven
minutes late, her co-worker, Delia, cheerfully informed her that their boss
Braj had been in earlier. When he found that Norabel was not there, he told
Delia to tell her that she was to skip lunch in order to make up for the lost
time. Delia also added that, as punishment, she would need to take over part of
her workload.

Norabel did not try to argue with her. The truth was, it was
pointless. Even though Delia made only half as many plates in the day as she
made bowls, she was an untouchable worker. The reason was because she had won
the heart of a Pax official, and if Braj wanted to stay in good with the Pax,
then he was required to treat Delia with a certain degree of leniency. This
meant that Norabel and Wren did most of the work coming from the Potter’s
Workhouse, frequently having to take over the rest of Delia’s workload on days
where she just didn’t feel like “pottering.”

Wren had come back halfway through lunch that day, bringing
Norabel something to eat as she worked. Norabel had been extremely touched at
her kind gesture, and even felt a bit guilty that she bought her lunch despite
all the hardships she was going through. She tried asking Wren about her mother
and about her red-flag status, but Wren refused to talk about it. “You’re young,”
she insisted. “You don’t need to worry.”

Though Norabel didn’t find a grain of truth or comfort in
that statement, she didn’t want to upset Wren by continuing to bring it up. So
instead they chatted about little things as Norabel worked away the rest of the
lunch hour. The best technique to wedging clay before working with it, the
squeak of the window shutters whenever the wind blew them, the scent of brown
earth that was permanently saturated in both of their hands.

At one point, Wren offered to take over Norabel’s work,
having noticed the bandage on her wrist and how she would silently wince in
pain every-so-often, but Norabel refused. Wren worked hard enough during the
day, she needed to be able to relax at lunch.

By the time the end of the work day came, Norabel was
thoroughly exhausted, and her wrist was throbbing in pain. Normally she found
fulfillment in a long, hard day’s work, but the sore state of her wrist had
turned something pleasing into a long and painful battle with each bowl and
plate she faced.

When a knock came at her window at the end of the day, she
was immensely glad to see a familiar face smiling at her.

“Meet at our place when you’re ready,” Logan said, popping
his head into her window.

“Sure,” she smiled. Then he turned to leave, and she raced
over to the window to call out, “Aren’t you coming?”

Logan gave her a sheepish smile. “I’m off to see Aleta
first. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Then, throwing her a wave, he was off,
leaving her once more to herself.

Norabel’s shoulders sagged in disappointment. She wanted to
tell someone what had happened to her this morning with Fletcher. Even though
there wasn’t much someone could do about being leached off of, telling Logan
would have at least made her feel better. And, not just that, but she didn’t
want to go to Mason’s by herself. Being alone with him had become such an
uncomfortable experience.

Sure enough, when she entered their small, north-end home a
few minutes later, she found Mason all by himself, hunched over a map on the
kitchen table. He didn’t acknowledge her when she came in, but she was sure he
could hear her slow footsteps across his floor.

“Uh, Mason?” she said, twisting her fingers together and
wondering how to tell him about Fletcher.

“Hmm?” he asked, continuing to stare down at the map, deep
in thought.

“I…I think I’ve got leacher problems,” she admitted.

She waited for him to look up in anger, but he did not.
Instead he muttered half-heartedly, “Try a bucket. I hear that helps.” Then,
without missing a beat, he pointed to a spot on his map, saying, “Will you look
at the stables here. I wonder how accurate this map is, because it looks like
they are a fair distance away from the stronghold.”

Norabel felt a twinge of pain in her heart. He was too busy
to even hear what she was saying.

“What are you thinking?” she asked, walking towards the
table.

“I’m thinking it would be a good place to strike next.” He
rubbed a hand across his mouth in thought.

Norabel gently grabbed the edge of the table and peered down
at the map, keeping a careful distance between them.

“Hey,” Mason said, looking down to her bandaged wrist. “Your
arm okay?”

“Oh, uh…”

Before she could finish, Mason’s eyes rose to a spot behind
her, and he suddenly called out, “Ashlin. What do you think about hitting the
stables next?”

“I think it’s brilliant,” the young woman replied,
confidently striding across the room to stand next to him. “It sends the right
message. Only Pax are allowed on horses, so we take that away, we’re stripping
them of one of their powers over us.”

She pointed down to the map of Breccan on the table and
frowned. “We’ll need to get a more accurate map than this, though. And we’ll
need to know what the guard postings are like. That shouldn’t take too long.
And I think we should do it as soon as possible. Let ‘em know we aren’t
stopping anytime soon.”

“Won’t it be dangerous?” Norabel asked. She thought the two
would ignore her, but she was surprised to look up and see both of them staring
at her.

“What do you mean?” Ashlin asked.

“Well, everyone knows what you look like now,” she pointed
out. “I know you’re good at sneaking around, but in the day, it’s hard to hide
your face. Especially right in front of the stronghold.”

Ashlin thought about this for a moment, her auburn hair
catching fire in the afternoon light that came in from the window. “I’m not the
only one on the team,” she finally said with a smirk.

“What’s this about the team?” Archer asked, coming in from
behind Norabel.

“Any sign of Logan down the road?” Mason asked, flicking his
head in the direction of the street outside.

Archer casually stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Nah.
He’s probably still making doe eyes with his girl.”

“He’s been doing that a lot lately,” Mason commented
gravely.

“Nnnot the only one,” Archer mumbled, drawing his first word
out to let Mason know he was talking about him.

Norabel suddenly found great interest in a loose string on
the hem of her sleeve. She didn’t want to see Mason’s reaction. Whether it was
true or not, it made her stomach twist to think that he might be making doe
eyes with Ashlin.

“So what have you guys been talking about?” Archer asked,
looking between Mason and Ashlin. “Not me, I hope.”

Ashlin raised her eyebrows at him, but then said, “I was
just about to suggest that Norabel do a little reconnaissance for us.”

“Me?” she squeaked out.

“You scared?” Archer asked, bumping her in the elbow.

“Well, yeah,” she admitted. “I’ve only ever been near the
stronghold twice in my life.”

“Don’t worry,” Ashlin said, giving her an encouraging smile.
“You’ll be fine. I’ve seen you as a Shadow. You’re a little hesitant, but you
get around just fine without being noticed.”

“Besides,” Archer said, butting in. “Everyone’s out looking
for Ashlin. Anyone with the slightest tint of red in their hair has been
brought in for questioning today. But, they take one look at your hair Norabel,
and well…there’s not the
slightest
hint of
any
color in yours.”

Norabel looked down and rubbed at the bandage on her wrist.
“Thanks. That makes me feel better.”

“How many people have they brought in, do you know?” Ashlin
asked.

“Dunno,” he shrugged. “But I can tell you this; the Pax are
running around like a dog chasing its tail, trying to figure out why no one has
ever heard of you before. The word is that you were just using a false name,
and that no one was able to get a good look at your face last night. That’s why
they haven’t been able to identify you. But, regardless, it’s making them look
like fools.”

Norabel wanted to comment that the Pax may look like fools,
but it didn’t make their team any more heroes, but she decided to hold her
tongue. As long as their next attack involved stealing horses and not scaring
people, it wouldn’t do any good to make comments like that.

“You know, that might be perfect,” Mason said, running a
hand on the map between where the stables and the stronghold were labeled. “If
people are being brought into the stronghold for questioning, then it stands to
reason that there would be people standing around outside, waiting for them to
come out. No one will think it’s strange if they see Norabel by the stables.”

“Guards and yards, Norabel,” Ashlin said. “That’s all we
need. Tell us how many men are watching the place, how many yards apart. And
get a peek at the lock on the stables.”

“We’ll need an exit route too,” Archer added. “It’ll be
pretty obvious when a pack of horses come charging through the village in the
dead of night. It’s gonna wake up a number of people, so we have to choose the
fastest route to the forest.”

“We can do that,” Mason volunteered. He turned to Norabel,
adding, “I just need you to concentrate on the stables.”

“You should probably go now,” Ashlin suggested. “Who knows
how much longer they’ll be questioning people inside.”

Norabel opened her mouth to say something, but nothing would
come out. It seemed the decision had already been made for her, and there was
no getting out of it. She was a part of the team, after all. And if she wanted
to stay on, she would have to do her part.

Dutifully going to the door, she was about to step through
when Logan appeared outside on the street outside.

“Oh. You’re leaving already?” he asked, jogging up to her.

“I guess so,” she answered.

“You guess?” he repeated, confused.

“To be honest, it all happened so fast.” She stepped around
him in the doorway, quickly adding, “Sorry. I have to get going.”

The Breccan stronghold was a great stone castle amidst a
village of wooden shacks, dirt roads, and thatched roofs. It had four tall
spires reaching up to the sky, and a stone courtyard where a line full of men
could always be seen standing to attention.

The first time Norabel had been summoned to the stronghold,
it was right after her home had been burned down and her grandfather had been killed.
The memory she had of it was broken and incomplete. She couldn’t recall the
sights inside or the men that spoke with her. The only things that stood out in
her mind were the emotions. Hurried, scared, panicked, befuddled—like
everything inside was just a swirl of colors in shades she had never seen
before, and all she longed for was a crisp blue sky.

The second time she was summoned to the stronghold, she
remembered everything as clear as day. It had been eleven years since her home
had been scorched, and she was already nineteen years old. Chief Auberon had
called both her and her family up to a room in the stronghold with no windows,
no furniture, no smell or character or warmth, just the great black and red of
the Pax flag looming on the walls.

“We’ve decided to reassign you to your old land,” Auberon
told them. “It’s fertile now, and Amias realizes that he’ll get the most out of
that land if it’s tended by the people that understand it the best.”

Her dad nodded dutifully as he took this in. He knew this wasn’t
a request. The decision had already been made.

“And, that brings me to another matter,” Auberon continued.
“Your daughter. I’ve been told that she’s established herself as a hard-working
potter here, but that she also knows how to work the land. Now, this might
sound strange, but looking into the matter, we’re just not quite sure whether
to send her to work the land, or keep her here as a potter. Both jobs are of
equal value.”

“Well what…what does that mean?” her mother asked, grabbing
ahold of Norabel’s hand.

“It means,” Auberon explained, “that, even though it is
rather unprecedented, we’ve decided to give you the choice. Either stay here in
Breccan, or travel with your parents back to your old home.”

Norabel’s mother had placed a hand over her heart in relief,
but one look at her daughter’s face, and the fear shot right back in.

Her mother said she understood, in the end. When Norabel
told them what she was doing with Mason, how she was returning what was stolen
back to the people. Her father understood, that much she could tell. He patted
her on the head and said he was proud, said it was about time someone put Amias
in his place. But her mother saw past all her good intentions of revolution and
justice.

When she had hugged her goodbye, she held her close and
whispered in Norabel’s ear, “Please don’t lose yourself sweetheart. Because I’m
afraid that, with all your happiness, it still won’t be enough to erase that
boy’s sadness.”

Norabel kicked a pebbled that she found on the ground and
tried to clear her mind of her mother’s words. She had a job to do; she didn’t
have time to wallow in the past.

Turning away from the stronghold, she saw the peaked wooden
roof of what she assumed was the Pax stables. It lied past the castle, about a
half a courtyard’s distance to the north-west. Staying inside the busy village
square, she circled around the stronghold so that she had a clear line of
vision to the stables.

At this angle, there were still a few meters of open space
between the common village street she was standing on, and the Pax guarded
stables. Though she could tell how big the structure was and how far away it
lied from the stronghold, she knew she would still need to get closer to get a
more accurate account.

She was debating on how to go about doing this, when she
spotted a young Pax official sitting with his back slumped up against the side
of the stables. He had a jumbled mass of saddle reins in his hands, and he
seemed to be having a hard time trying to detangle them. By the boyish nose on
his freckled face, and the tangled mop of blonde hair on his head, she figured
that he was still young, perhaps a year or two younger than her, and as such
was assigned the more menial jobs that the other officers didn’t want to do.

Norabel walked down the village road so that she was
standing directly in front of him a few yards away. She looked down to her feet,
planted on the dirt road, and made sure not to cross onto the stone courtyard.

“Uh, excuse me,” she called out to the frustrated young man.

His head shot up, and he blinked in confusion at seeing
Norabel waving to him.

“What is it?” he asked, slightly annoyed for being
interrupted from his work.

“I was wondering if you’d like some help,” Norabel asked.

Her voice had come out so quietly that the young man stood
to his feet and took a step closer, asking, “What was that?”

“I…I was wondering if you’d like some help,” she called out,
louder this time. She gave him a sweet smile and pointed to the reins in his
hands.

He looked around them, checking to make sure no one was
watching, and then walked over to her. “You know about detangling reins?” he
asked skeptically.

“No, but I know about hands,” she stated cheerfully, putting
hers up in the air for him to see. “And mine were made for detangling knots.”

The boy glanced down at the mass in his hands before
reluctantly holding them out to her. “Here,” he said. “See what you can make of
them. I can’t seem to make any progress.”

She smiled gratefully at him and gingerly accepted the pile.
She chose an outer lying rein to start from, and nimbly dug her fingers inside,
tugging it out of its prison.

“I’ve been working on those wretched things for the past
hour,” the boy complained. “I swear, whoever stored them like that was
purposefully trying to make me suffer.”

“It must be hard,” she commented as she worked, “having to
do the jobs no one else wants.”

“It’s,” he paused for a moment, as if deliberating if he
should be talking to her. Then, deciding that it couldn’t hurt, he gave out a
small chuckle, admitting, “It wretching stinks!”

She laughed softly and then swiftly pulled one of the reins
loose from the pile. “Oh, here you are,” she said, extending the newly freed
strand out to him.

He took it and draped it over his arm, watching as she
continued to pick away at the pile.

Noticing his eyes on her, she said, “My name’s Norabel, by
the way.”

After she said it, she wasn’t sure if she should have, but
there was no taking it back now. She just had to make sure she didn’t do
anything that might incriminate her whenever they discovered the horses missing
later.

“I’m Emmett,” he replied. His arm twitched like he wanted to
shake her hand, but he kept it back, either too cautious or too shy to do so.

He was quiet as he watched her detangle two more reins from
the mess, leaving only a couple that were knotted together.

“You’re good at that,” he said, motioning to the pile. “A
lot better than me,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his head in
embarrassment.

“We’re all good at something,” she told him, angling her
head to the side in thought.

Emmett took his hand away from his head and cleared his
throat. “Why are you helping me?”

Norabel finally detangled the last of the bunch and held
them out to him. “Because I like undoing knots,” she answered simply. “You
could say it’s an addiction really,” she joked.

“Well…” Emmett was cut off as someone yelled his name.

“Hey Emmett!” a Pax official called out from a few yards
away, waving his hand to get his attention. The official looked to be just a
little older than Emmett, and had two other officers with him that looked
equally as young.

“Kade!” Emmett said, waving to him with one hand and trying
to grasp all the reins with the other.

When the group of three men reached them, the officer called
Kade nudged his chin in Norabel’s direction, asking, “Hey, who’s the girl,
Emmett?”

“Uh no…she was just helping me with the reins,” Emmett
stuttered.

“Well, does rein girl have a name?”

“It’s Norabel,” she offered them with a smile.

“Hey look,” one of the other men said, pointing to the neat
pile of reins in Emmett’s hands. “She beat Harker’s knot of terror.”

“Well congratulations,” Kade said, giving her his hand to
shake. “That thing has been tied up like that for months.” He turned to Emmett
asking, “How long did it take her to…”

“Five minutes,” Emmett answered proudly.

One of the men behind Kade whistled in admiration.

“Well, hey, come on,” Kade said, motioning behind him with a
nudge of his head. “We were gonna get in a few pints before Leon here starts
his night shift.”

“Those wretched horses,” the officer named Leon said,
shaking his head. “I never understood why they need some guy to just sit in
front of their door twiddling his thumbs every night of the wretched week. It’s
not like the horses are gonna up and leave!”

“So whad’ya say?” Kade asked, turning back to Emmett.

“Ah, I can’t,” he replied, looking down to the reins in his
hands. “I’m the one guarding the stables right now. I can’t leave.”

Norabel’s ears perked up at this last comment. From what
Emmett and Leon had said, it seemed as if there was only one guard posted at
the stables.

“Well that’s wretching unbelievable,” Kade exclaimed. “We
can’t go
now
cause you can’t go, and we can’t go
later
cause Leon
can’t. It kinda makes you rethink having so many friends.”

“Why don’t you just stay here with Emmett?” Norabel
suggested.

The four guys turned to her, eyes blinking, unsure of how to
respond.

“And do what?” the man named Leon finally asked.

“You ever play Shadow Snapper before?” she asked.

“Never heard of it,” Kade said, shaking his head.

“Well, each person has a small handful of Snapper, and the
object of the game is to hit someone’s shadow with it while trying to keep your
own shadow safe. If you hit a person’s shadow, that’s a point, and if someone
hits yours, that’s a minus point.”

“Sounds simple enough,” Emmett reasoned. “You guys wanna
try?”

“I’ve got some Snapper right here,” the quietest of the
young men said, raising it from his pocket in offering.

“You just carry that around with you, Finn?” Kade asked in
disbelieve. “Even to the pub?”

“You never know when you might need it,” Finn defended,
shrugging his shoulders.

“Not in our line of work,” Leon added. “They never let us do
anything of any importance. It’s all unknotting reins, watching horses, and
latrine duty for us.”

“Imagine using Snapper for that last one,” Kade joked.

“Oh, hold on, guys,” Emmett exclaimed, holding up the reins.
“Let me just drop these off in the stables. I’ll be right back.”

Norabel listening closely as Emmett left for the stables.
She made sure to keep her eyes on the boys’ interaction before her so it
wouldn’t seem as if she was interested in what Emmett was doing. She heard the
quick jingling of keys as the door opened, and then a moment later when he came
back out to lock it. As he ran back towards them, she noticed a small ring of
keys slipped at his waist. There were three keys in total, but the one that was
sticking out in the front was the largest. That must be the one to the stables.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Emmett said when he rejoined them.

Norabel then took the Snapper from Finn and gave each boy an
equal share. However, before she could give the rest back to Finn, they all
insisted that she play with them—just to make sure they were doing it right.

So, Norabel soon found herself playing Shadow Snapper with
four Pax officials, and the strangest thing was, she enjoyed it. The boys laughed
and joked with each other non-stop, and the game seemed to bring out their
naturally competitive side. In fact, the guys seemed to take turns trying to block
her shadow from the others’ view, and on a fair few occasions one of them would
actually step into her shadow with their own, claiming that they had taken the
brunt of the attack.

They ended up playing so many games of Shadow Snapper that
only the setting sun caused them to stop. When they all realized that they
couldn’t play anymore without their shadows, a subtle wave of sadness washed
over the group.

“Well hey,” Emmett said, realizing that Norabel had to go.
“If you ever see us around the village, don’t be a stranger.”

Assuring them all that she would say hello should she ever
see one of them again, she bid them a goodnight, and walked home.

Though the sun had fully set by the time she came down her
street, she could still see enough to know that a man was leaning against her front
door, waiting for her. She stopped in her tracks, feeling her heart speed up.

“Is that you Norabel?” a smug voice called out, kicking off
from her door and taking a few steps closer.

She instantly recognized Fletcher’s voice and closed her
eyes for a brief moment, wishing this wasn’t the start of something bigger. She
took a quick glance at her neighbor’s house to make sure that everything looked
okay, before she turned around to greet him.

“Good evening,” she offered, bravely stepping up to her
house.

She figured that the best way to handle Fletcher was to
treat him as nicely as possible. And, if there’s one thing that her mother
taught her, it was that difficult situations were only made better with
kindness.

“I’m hungry,” Fletcher stated, throwing her a smile as if
silently asking her to do something about it.

“You can come inside if you like,” she said, unlocking her
front door. “I can make you something to eat.”

Fletcher made no comment as he marched right on in after
her. Seeing the kitchen table, he slouched down into one of the chairs and
tapped his fingers against the wood.