Chasing Shadows (Saving Galerance, Book 1) (17 page)

Norabel stepped forward to leave, but before she could make
it through the doorway, Delia called out, “Sorry to see what happened to your
face.”

Norabel paused, but did not look back at her.

“It looks like the beginning signs of a serious problem.
From what my Creason says, it’s gonna get a lot worse than that.”

Norabel bit down on her lip and forced herself to go in. She
didn’t need Delia to tell her that she was in trouble. She
knew
that.
But she couldn’t let her words get to her. She was only trying to get back at
her. There were probably dozens of cases where a leacher didn’t resort to
violence in order to get what he wanted. She would just have to work extra hard
to make sure she could give him everything he asked for.

As she quietly started on that morning’s workload, she began
to feel ashamed of herself. Her grandfather had stuck up for what was
rightfully his when Amias tried to burn down his field. And her mother and
father would shudder to know what was really happening to her. They expected
her to be fighting the Pax here in Breccan, not willfully submitting to one of
its biggest monsters. A strife built up inside of her, and she was so torn on
what to do, she felt miles away from her sleepy little work station.

When a knock sounded on her window at lunch time, she jumped
in fright, somehow thinking that it might be Fletcher come to torment her in
the day. Seeing it was only Logan and Aleta, she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Is everyone alright?” she asked, hurrying over to meet them.
She realized that, with her mind so caught up with her current problems, she
didn’t even hear talk about what had happened with the stables. Of course, Wren
was so distant these days she wouldn’t have noticed if her own house was on
fire, but she could usually count on Delia to spout off about the village’s
latest gossip.

Logan quickly gave her a reassuring smile, saying,
“Everything went smoothly. We’re all fine Norabel.” His face scrunched in
concern as he saw the bruise by her eye. “But, what about you? What happened
there?”

“Oh, uh,” she stuttered. She didn’t know how to answer him. Maybe
she should just tell him, she figured. He may not be able to stop it, but
telling someone might make her feel better.

However, before she could say anything, Aleta spoke up,
saying, “Oh, that was, that was me, I’m afraid.”

Both Logan and Norabel turned to her in confusion. Aleta
gave her a subtle nod, and she realized that she was trying to cover for her;
that she thought her bruise was some symptom of Jotham’s, and that she was
helping her keep the secret.

“I came to visit her last night,” Aleta said. “And somehow I
accidentally…” She waved her hands in the air, making a goofy expression, and
then tapped a hand to her head saying, “Bop!” She laughed, adding, “It’s a long
story, really.”

Logan stared at her with amusement and deep affection,
throwing his arm around her and chuckling at the little display she had put on.

“So, sorry about that,” Aleta told her.

Norabel nodded and gave her a smile. She couldn’t tell them
the truth about her bruise now, not after Aleta had been so nice in taking the
blame.

“What have people been saying?” Norabel asked, trying to
draw the conversation away from her. “You know, about… I wasn’t able to hear
anything here.”

“Well,” Logan started, scratching his head as though he was
stumped. “The strangest thing happened this morning. The Pax woke up to find
that all the horses in their stables had simply vanished. It’s a puzzling
mystery that’s vexed a lot of people.” He shrugged, continuing, “Of course, the
officer that was supposed to be guarding them fell asleep and didn’t see a
thing. But he did find a note stuffed into his pocket. And tacked to each one
of the empty stable stalls. Some obscure line about a beast.” He shook his
head. “We’re all really at a loss as to what it means.”

Norabel laughed at his little charade, feeling good to have
something to smile about.

“The man was really asleep?” she asked.

He put a hand to his heart. “Like a baby.”

“You know babies don’t sleep through the night,” Aleta
pointed out.

Logan looked down to her warmly, saying, “Well maybe one of
these days you can show me how they really sleep.”

He grinned at her handsomely, and she blushed and smiled
back, realizing his hidden meaning. Norabel wondered if she should leave to
give them their privacy, but a moment later they looked back to her.

“Is that all they’re saying?” she asked, growing a little
more serious. She knew there had to be more to the story than Logan’s carefree
interpretation.

“Well,” he tweaked his mouth, “you know how the Pax can try
and spin anything. There’s some talk going out there that setting the horses
free was an act of cruelty; that the horses can’t survive in the wild by
themselves. They even say that they found one of their bodies, killed by a wild
animal.”

Norabel’s face froze, and she put a hand up to her lips,
feeling horrible about the poor horse.

“Norabel, you don’t think that story’s real,” Logan said,
reaching out to lightly rub her arm. “The Pax made it up. There’s no way they
could have found any of the horses yet. They’re miles away by now.”

“But it
is
possible that they could die,” she said.

He sighed and relented, saying, “Anything’s possible I
suppose.”

Her head and shoulders drooped, thinking about what those
horses could be doing now.

“Hey. Cheer up, kid,” Logan said. “This, relatively
speaking, is a good day. We should enjoy it.” His face darkened as he added,
“I’m not sure how many more we’re going to have.”

“Thanks Logan,” Aleta scolded him. “You’ve cheered her up
immensely.” She then turned to her friend, saying, “We have to get going, but
why don’t you go to the doctor later on today?”

“For a bruise?” Logan asked.

“Oh, well, you know,” Aleta said innocently, “you can never
be too careful.”

Norabel nodded, knowing that Aleta really wanted her to go
to make sure her Jotham’s wasn’t getting worse.

“You’ll let me know if everything’s alright?” she urged
further.

“Of course.”

“And you
will
actually go? You won’t just say you’re
fine and not have gone?”

“I’m sure Norabel knows how to take care of herself, Aleta,”
Logan gently reminded her.

“I know,” she agreed. “I’d just feel better if she promised.
You know, since it was my fault and all.”

Norabel offered her a smile, saying, “I promise.”

It had been several years since she had been in to visit the
village doctor about her condition. Of course, since Breccan was so large,
there was a doctor present in each residential sector. At first Norabel didn’t
know whether she should go to the one located in the western sector where she
lived, or the one she had been to when she first moved to Breccan. That doctor
was located in the northern sector, the place that her family lived before she
had been forced to move out at age eighteen. In the end, she decided to go back
to him. She didn’t like the idea of telling a stranger of her condition, and
she didn’t want word to accidentally spread.

Doctor Mica’s place of work was a small stone and wooden
building that was hidden among the houses of the north sector, differentiated
only by the sign on the door and the stone flooring inside that allowed for
easy transportation of medical carts.

The place was humming with humanity when she stepped inside.
There was a noisy boy in the corner of the front room, holding a bandaged leg
and complaining that his father would get the boy that did this to him. Norabel
gave him a sympathetic smile as she walked past. Going further into the room,
she found Mica standing over a man that had been laid on a wooden table. He was
telling the man to take deep breaths, but the man could not stop coughing
between each one. Mica frowned and told him to sit up. He handed him a pouch of
something, and the man gratefully took it and then stood up to leave.

“Can I help you?” Mica asked, having noticed her in the
room. His expression was that of courteous professionalism, but it changed a
moment later into one of recognition. “Norabel?” he asked, stepping around the
wooden table.

“Hello Doctor Mica,” she greeted him, feeling a little
guilty for not having been in to see him in a long time.

“Dear girl, you haven’t aged a day,” he marveled. “You look
exactly the same as the last time you stood right there in that very spot,
insisting that I keep your condition a secret.” He had smiled at the memory of
it, but his mouth soon turned into a frown when he noticed the bruise on her
face. “On second thought, not exactly the same. What happened to you there?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” she said, lightly touching the side of
her head. “Just a bruise.”

“Well here,” he said, motioning her over to the table. “Let
me look at it.”

Norabel sat down, and Mica narrowed his eyes on the red
skin, lightly touching her temple and brushing a few strands of hairs away to
make sure that the mark didn’t reach any further.

“Did you bump your head on the kitchen table or something?”
he asked.

“Something like that.”

He took her wrist and checked her pulse. “How are the
lungs?”

“They’re alright,” she answered.

A movement across the room caught her attention. The boy
with the bandaged leg hobbled over to the window at the front of the building,
yelling at someone he spotted outside.

“How many attacks since you last came?” Mica asked, drawing
her eyes back to him.

“Just…just one,” she answered, “and it stopped before it got
too bad.”

He nodded and took in a satisfied breath of air. The boy at
the front of the room stopped yelling and came away from the window.

“Have you told anyone about…” he trailed off, careful to
keep his question open-ended.

“One person actually,” she said, glad that she could give a
positive answer.

“Good. That’s good. There should be at least one person that
knows in case…”

Norabel looked down at her lap, curling her fragile fingers
in towards her palm. She didn’t like the feeling that came with talking to a
person that knew she was going to die young. It made her feel weak and pitied.

Standing up from the table, she was about to bid him a
goodbye, when a thought occurred to her. “Doctor Mica, do you remember meeting
a lady called Wren? Her mother fell ill, and I believe she lives in your sector.
I was wondering…”

She stopped when she saw the remorseful expression on his
face.

“She was red-flagged, as I recall,” he answered.

“Do you know how her mother is doing? Wren isn’t able to
visit her, and I was hoping you might…”

Mica placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I’m afraid I’ve
been…asked not to see her,” he explained.

“Asked?” she repeated in confusion. “But why would they do
that?”

He shook his head. “The price that comes with the red flag.
If I were to treat her, I would soon find myself working in the Steel Works. My
job here would be commandeered, and someone less knowledgeable would take my
place.”

Norabel furrowed her brow. “But then…she’ll die.”

Mica’s expression softened. “Wren’s mother is suffering from
a bad bout of the flu. With her advanced age, it’s hard for her body to fight
it off. But, there is an herb that might help her. If someone were to have a
little knowledge about plants, they might retrieve some from the forest and
bring it to her.”

Her face brightened, and she gave an eager nod of her head.
Mica smiled and left to retrieve a book from a nearby shelf. When he brought it
back, he opened it to a page that contained a drawing of a clump of leaves.

“This is called Timber Ivy. It’s a deep green color, almost
black. You’ll find it wrapping up the bottom of a patch of Mulberry Trees not
too far from our eastern border.”

“I know the spot,” she assured him, already hurrying for the
door. “Thank you so much Doctor Mica,” she called out over her shoulder.

Valor forest was alight with whispering birds, butterflies
and bugs when she ventured in. The woodland world was buzzing with gossip at
her arrival, and Norabel could feel the curious gaze of a hundred eyes watching
her. Travelling down the road a little ways, she spotted the patch of Mulberry
Trees Doctor Mica had mentioned, and hurried over to inspect the bottom of
their trunks. Sure enough, weaving in between the trees like a thick underbrush,
was the dark green leaf of the Timber Ivy. Gently reaching her hand inside, she
plucked a few of the vines from the tangle, coming away with several bunches of
leaves.

She had just put the ivy in the pouch around her waist when
she heard the sound of someone approaching through the trees. She looked to the
road, but the sound was not coming from that direction. Whoever it was probably
did not want to be seen, and so had chosen to stay off the path. Deciding that
it was probably best that she not be seen either, Norabel quietly stole behind
a large tree, waiting in silence for the person to pass. The crunching of the
forest floor underfoot was a soft thud as the person grew nearer. Whoever it
was, they were light on their feet—not something characteristic of the Pax.

She chanced a look around the tree and immediately felt foolish.
It was Ashlin. She must be walking these woods on her way home. She was about
to call out to her and announce her presence, when a thought struck her. She
had no idea where Ashlin lived. Was it just out here in the trees? With no
house and nothing to eat but what she could kill with her bow and arrows?

Fueled by curiosity and a slight hint of sympathy, she
decided to follow Ashlin’s trail home. Of course, she knew that the girl that
had so suddenly become the “New Face of the Rebellion” would notice if she was
being followed, but Norabel didn’t need to see her in order to follow her. Back
when she was a kid living up in the mountains, her father and grandfather
taught her how to read signs in the forest to make sure no one was lurching
nearby, planning to steal from their trees.