Crucible (30 page)

The door to Jorie's room opened, and an exhausted-looking Evie stepped out, a sheaf of papers in hand. “What if I have proof he doesn't own the land?”

Tobin stood up and took the papers. “Who owns it?”

“My sister and I.”

“What about your parents?”

“My mother died when I was young.” Evie's eyes teared up again. “I'm sure my grandfather and father were both murdered by Alphon . . . he keeps telling me they're working at the mine, but I'm sure they're dead.”

“How do you know that?” Tobin asked.

“They have to be. I haven't seen either one for months.”

“I see. May I take these papers with me?”

Evie looked at Jorie, who nodded. “He's trustworthy, and once he reads them, his word is as good as the paper.”

“Then yes.”

“Thank you. I promise they're safe with me.”

“The dinner crowd is beginning to quiet down, I don't suppose you would bring us something to eat?” Jorie asked Tobin as he scanned the documents.

“Of course. Then I'll go talk to Jaren and make arrangements to have someone guard you two in shifts.”

“Thanks.”

• • •

Jorie helped Evie back to bed and was soothing her when there was a knock on the door. As she got up to let Tobin in, she noticed the shadow under the door revealed more than one person on the other side. She got down on her hands and knees to look: two men, neither wearing white boots. She opened her Empathy to sense who they were and what they wanted. Greed and anger were the overwhelming thoughts. One of them had to be Alphon!

Jorie got up, took the chair, and jammed it under the door latch as they knocked again, louder this time. It wouldn't stop them, but it would slow them down.

“Healer, we have need of your services,” an unfamiliar voice said.

Evie sat up in bed; she was about to speak when Jorie hushed her and reached out her thoughts to Tobin.
:Alphon and another man are at the door. Where are you?:

:In the stables with Jaren, blocked in by three of his men.:

:What should I do?:
she asked as she pulled a small knife out of her medical bag.

:Stay calm, I'll be there as soon as I can.:

She heard Alphon say something to the other man, and then the door was pounded on. She tried to hold the chair up against the door and started screaming for help as it crashed open.

Evie added her voice to the screaming but was slapped hard by Alphon as the other man grabbed Jorie and knocked the knife out of her hand. She kicked and slapped him away as best she could, all while making as much noise as possible until Alphon pulled Evie close and all but held up her head with a dagger. “Quiet, or I pierce her throat!”

Jorie stopped screaming as Evie fainted.

“Take her,” Alphon said as he transferred Evie to his man. As she was gathered up, Jorie tried to dart around them and out the door but was stopped by Alphon.

“Hold, girl, or I'll kill you where you stand!”

“What do you want?” she asked.

“You're coming with us.”

“You can't do this! My brother and the Herald are on their way here.”

He chuckled. “Your brother and the Herald are being taken care off right now by my other men.”

:Tobin?:
she reached out, but got no answer. “You can't take us out of here. There's a full dining room of people downstairs.”

“I doubt they heard you all the way up here. And there are other ways out besides the front door, as you well know.”

Jorie did know. The second floor led to the staircase going to the dining room on one side, but the other side had a staircase that went to the bathhouse and the stables.

“Let's go—now.”

Quickly reviewing her options, Jorie found they all led to walking out the door and down the stairs. Climbing out the window was impossible—he'd be on her before she could even open it, and she wouldn't do Evie any good dead on the road three stories below.

“Fine,” she said as he reached for her arm. “I'll walk on my own.”

They descended the first stairway to the second floor hallway, and Jorie considered dashing down it until Alphon grabbed her by her long braid.

“Lead us out the back.” He growled. “No noise, no tricks, or you both die.”

He turned her toward the other staircase, and they took three steps when they heard feet coming up.

“Hurry,” he said, pushing her while still holding her hair.

“Get your hands off my daughter, or you'll feel some pain!”

“Mom?”

Alphon spun her around. Standing on the top step was her mother, a large butcher knife in her hand. Jillie was right behind her, holding a heavy frying pan in both hands.

Alphon laughed at the sight. “Go back to the kitchen, both of you!” He spun Jorie back around. “Quickly, out the back way,” he said to the man holding Evie.

The man hurried down the corridor while Alphon shoved Jorie forward. Her neck felt as though it was going to break if she stumbled. They stopped abruptly, and she nearly collided into the man.

“Let them go!” came Jemma's voice.

In front of the other staircase, Jemma stood holding a short sword Jorie recognized as her husband Micah's blade. With the dark scowl on her face, she looked as though she knew how to use it.

“Stand aside or I break her neck!”

As soon as Alphon yelled, Jorie heard steps and a
loud
thud
. Alphon let her hair go as he slumped to the ground. Jillie had hit him with the frying pan!

Jorie was stunned—her family had actually come to her rescue!

She heard the other man say something like a curse, and he let Evie fall to the floor. Jorie rushed to catch her but missed. Just as Evie hit the ground, Jemma screamed and rushed forward, brandishing the short sword. The man tried to escape past Jillie, but she swung her pan again and hit him on the back, making him fall down the stairs and land in a stunned heap at the bottom.

Her mother looked proud. “I warned them.”

Jemma stopped her rush when she reached the bodies and stood over Alphon, her sword poised to strike. “How's Evie?” she asked, breathing heavily.

Jorie turned to the unconscious woman, but before she could do anything, Tobin and Jaren thundered up the steps, both holding swords and looking as though they'd been in a fight.

Tobin looked at the two men. “What happened?”

“My family happened,” Jorie said with great pride.

• • •

Tobin was impressed with how Jorie's mom and sisters had come to her rescue. Jaren wasn't surprised, because he had lived with them all his life. Evie had a terrible headache from her fall but was ultimately fine, and getting back to her usual self once she had slept well enough and broken her need for the milky drug.

The papers she'd given Tobin proved the land did not belong to Alphon. It had belonged to her father and grandfather. Sadly, Tobin and Jaren searched the cabin area and discovered their graves, along with two of the other missing men. More men were still missing; Alphon's men blamed Alphon, and he was blaming everyone except himself.

It had taken two days for the guard from Riverbend to reach Wintervale and escort Alphon and his men to
the nearest jail to await trial. It took another month for Jorie to help every person who was being drugged by him go through withdrawal. Fortunately, she had Jemma's help.

Jemma gradually cut back on her drinking and vowed never to drink again after seeing the hell their patients went through. She also didn't want to own a tavern any more.

Jillie made a surprising improvement herself. Something about taking out her anger made her want to learn more about self-defense, so Jaren began teaching her how to use a sword, just as he had for Jemma.

• • •

On the way out of town, Jorie stopped at her father's grave again. There was now a stone marker with his named etched on it and the inscription
Beloved by his family
.

“You chose a good inscription, Jessa.”

“Thank you, Auntie Jorie. Should we get going?”

“Give me a minute to say goodbye, sweetie.”

“I'm going to wait with Tobin,” Jessa said as she turned to the Herald. He was waiting with Gaela and Rowan and a black horse Evie had given to Jessa.

Jorie turned back to her father's grave. “Well, Dad, you're the last person I need to say goodbye to before going back to Haven. Jessa's coming with me, and I'm sure she'll qualify for the Collegium. Jillie wasn't very happy about it, but I've promised to make sure she comes home for the summer breaks. Which means, of course, I'll be visiting more often, too.”

Jorie felt tears slip from her eyes. “Thanks for everything, Dad. I love you.”

Elfyn had often thought that life born into the world announced itself with screams, tempered by words of encouragement. These events had followed the birth of her only child, a daughter she named Lynal, a combination of her name and the name of the father whom the child would never know.

So as she slipped into the bed with her now grown daughter, it seemed sad that a life so richly started should end with little more than a sigh. Elfyn took her daughter in her arms, just as she did when Lynal was sick or frightened from a nightmare, or as she had when the nights were cold and Elfyn was too destitute to afford wood for the fire.

She slipped her right arm beneath Lynal's head, then tucked her still daughter against her warmer body and held her until death slipped in and stole the only thing Elfyn still held precious in her life.

Her sobs rose with the tolling of the Death Bell, announcing the passing of a Herald. She didn't question how those in the tower knew the moment her daughter slipped away. She'd long ago stopped wondering about the ways of the Heralds and their magic.

She sensed the Healers in the room with her, waiting patiently. Elfyn wrapped her arm around Lynal, fearing
they would take her away again, just as they had taken her from Elfyn's side the day the white horse had appeared.

• • •

In those early years, Elfyn had worked as a cook in a local tavern, keeping Lynal close to her and away from harm. Some insisted she was too overprotective. Elfyn had lost her husband to thieves, men he trusted, men who'd slit his throat and left him to die on the side of the road. When he didn't come home for two days, an eight-months-pregnant Elfyn had worried herself into delivery. The day she had set her eyes upon her daughter's little face was the day she had also saw her first Herald.

He was a striking sight: tall and lean, with sunbaked skin, no older than his midtwenties, with sun-gold hair, dressed in leathers whiter than snow and trimmed in silver. He said his name was Bristol, Chosen by the Companion Idara, and he had been the one who found her husband's body. His Idara had sensed the death.

That moment had been forever burned in Elfyn's memory, locking together the presence of white-clad Heralds with loss. Bad news. Evil tidings. She had sensed the Herald's sadness then, but she dismissed it, and him along with his white horse. She'd needed someone or something to blame. Unfortunately, Herald Bristol bore her contempt until the moment he was asked to leave the small village.

Her own daughter's Choosing happened in the spring of Lynal's tenth year. So often she had loved to explore the woods near their meager home. The hut itself was little more than the discarded barn of a family of means, rented to Elfyn for nearly the exact coin she turned as a cook. Elfyn had planted their own garden behind the hut, away from the prying eyes of the landlords, who never visited, and taught Lynal about planting, harvesting, and cooking. There wasn't a vegetable her voracious little girl didn't like.

The rising sun glinted off new dew on the grass. She'd
heard her daughter leave the house, telling Elfyn as she peeled apples in the kitchen for tarts, that she was going to pick flowers for the morning table.

But by the time breakfast was ready, Lynal had not appeared. Wracked with worry and an overwhelming feeling of apprehension, Elfyn had set out to find her. As she walked through the woods, the only thought was that of her daughter and the lingering fear that bandits had taken her.

Or worse, she would find her beaten and bleeding body in the woods.

She could still remember the glimpse of white in the thick, blooming forest. Her first thoughts were of a ghost—that she was too late and her daughter's spirit was forever trapped in the woods.

“Lynal!” she screamed as she glimpsed the white again. Even if the specter was that of her daughter, she would love it and offer it a home.

“Mother!” Came her daughter's cry.

Elfyn had stopped because the tone of the cry and the feeling behind it had not been that of a child in trouble but of a child in happiness. Confused, she ran through the spindled trees toward the sound of her only child's laughter, her heart thundering in her chest as her stomach clenched into a tight ball.

When she burst into the clearing, the shape of the white shadow became evident. It was a horse! An unnaturally large one, with a coat whiter than snow and large blue eyes. Standing beside it was Lynal. No, she wasn't just standing by the horse—she was hugging it, her tiny arms wrapped tightly around its neck. And the horse bent her head around as if to cradle the child to her.

“Lynal!” Elfyn shouted, but she stayed on the edge of the forest.

“Mother, look!” Lynal said as she let go of the horse and moved only a few steps away. “She says her name is Yllafiel!”

• • •

“Elfyn,” said a gentle voice in her ear and she recognized it as belonging to the dark-haired Healer. “Please . . . it's time to prepare the body.”

Her daughter's body. Elfyn's right arm had fallen asleep past the moment of pins and needles and was now cold and numb. Her daughter's body no longer held any warmth, and the skin had begun its transition into gray. No matter what wish Elfyn might have, her precious Lynal would never smile, or laugh, or call to her mother again.

The taller of the Healers helped her out of the bed, and she stood to the side, watching as they removed her daughter's clothing. One of the younger Healers watched Elfyn for a few moments before she approached. “Is that something important?”

Wiping at her face, Elfyn frowned, and then looked to where the young woman pointed. A much-handled piece of folded paper stuck out from the pocket in her skirt. Elfyn slowly retrieved it and held it to her chest. “It's . . . a letter my daughter left for me. The last time she visited. Of course, that was over five years ago.”

The girl looked at Elfyn with wide sad eyes. “It must be very precious to you. Is it a letter of love?”

Elfyn's shrug confused the young girl. “I don't know what it says. I can't read.”

“Oh . . . then, would you like one of us to read it to you?” The girl stepped forward, her hand outstretched.

“No!” Elfyn said as she stepped back, holding the letter close. She hadn't meant to snap at the girl and instantly felt bad. “I'm sorry . . .”

“No, no. It's all right. I'm sorry for intruding. It's addressed to you.”

“It is?” Elfyn looked at the marks scrawled across the front. She'd always wondered what the word was, and had assumed it was her name. “What does it say?”

“It says ‘
Mother
.'”

A young woman with large dark eyes and full lips stepped forward and bowed to Elfyn. “My lady? Would you come with me?”

“I'm not leaving my Lynal.” Elfyn pushed the letter back into her skirt pocket.

“I understand. We're going to prepare her. Herald Lorin thinks it's best if you wait in the garden.”

Wait in the garden? No. She had no time for flowers. “Where are her quarters? I need to gather her things.”

The girl's face looked sad. “I'll have one of the Trainees take you.” She gestured to the door, and Elfyn followed close behind. The dark-eyed girl called one of the small, gray-clad youths from the hall and instructed him to escort Elfyn to Lynal's room.

The boy kept his head down as he led the way from the House of Healing across a smattering of gardens. Elfyn followed close behind, and though she tried to keep her own eyes in front of her, the white of the Heralds' clothes as well as the white of their Companion's coats caught her attention. When she looked at each pairing, she noticed they were close together, the Heralds' arms around their horses. An overwhelming miasma of sadness seemed to blanket the gardens, muting even the color of the flowers.

At her daughter's door, the young boy paused when he realized he'd raised his hand to knock. With a slight blush he put his hand on the knob and opened it. Elfyn put her hand on the frame. There was no longer a need to ask for entrance.

Lynal's life had been simple when she'd lived at home with Elfyn, and she had kept that simplicity in her quarters here. Elfyn had never been to the Collegium, had never traveled so far from her home. Seeing the Herald at her door two days ago had surprised her. He'd been sweaty and out of breath as he delivered the news of her daughter's wounds. Lynal had been on Circuit when what was supposed to be a minor land dispute had turned into a small war between houses, and though she had been
trained by the Collegium in defense, her Whites made her an easy target. There was little her body could do against multiple knife wounds.

Elfyn and the Herald had traveled with little sleep or food to bring her to the House of Healing in time to say goodbye to her only child.

The bed was made and covered in a fine layer of dust, evidence of Lynal's prolonged absence. It was a modest if not nice place to live, with comforts Elfyn had never been able to give her, such as a real bed with a mattress and soft sheets.

A shadow fell across her back and spread into the room. She turned to see another Herald in the doorway, standing just behind the Trainee. Their white clothing gave them away far too easily. That, and something about their presence that echoed inside her head. She'd noticed that same soft “other” about her daughter after she was Chosen.

This Herald was tall and thin, the thinnest one she'd seen since arriving at the Collegium. His hair was dark, though streaked with white and gray, and pulled back into a leather thong at the back of his neck. “Josef,” he addressed the boy. “Healer Malachi needs a clean set of Lynal's Whites. Will you take them to her?”

“Yes, Herald Lorin.” Josef gave the Herald a slight bow before moving past Elfyn to the closet. The boy removed a set and placed them carefully on the bed. Elfyn watched as he methodically folded the clothing and retrieved a pair of clean boots.

“Thank you,” Herald Lorin said as Josef approached the door.

The boy paused and looked up at him with wistful eyes. “Herald Lorin . . . any word on Yllafiel . . .”

“Everyone's searching, Josef. Go, get those to the Healer.”

Once the boy left, the Herald stepped inside and shut the door. Elfyn noticed Lorin's strong presence before
he addressed her. “Elfyn Muriel. I'm Herald Lorin. I was one of your daughter's instructors. I would like to express my condolences on her passing.”

“Were you the one that sent her into that mess?” Elfyn didn't try to hold back her rage, and was rewarded with a wince on the Herald's stoic face. “Sent a young girl into a situation best suited for those of you more experienced at diplomacy?”

“I can assure you,”—he held up his hands—“Herald Lynal was capable of handling the situation—”

“My daughter is
dead
!” Elfyn pointed at the floor as she expressed her anguish. “You and this Collegium have at last taken
everything
from me. My daughter . . .” She balled her hands into fists and turned away. “My little girl . . .”

“Herald Lynal was anything but a little girl, ma'am.” Herald Lorin's voice wavered just a touch, revealing his own grief. “She was excellent at diplomacy. In fact, she was the best we had, and she volunteered to go. And . . . despite the loss of her and her Companion, the agreement was still reached, and the area should know peace for some time. Your daughter is responsible for saving hundreds of lives.” He paused. “I—I just wanted to let you know.”

Elfyn felt his sorrow; it was as palpable as her own. But something in his words caught her attention. She turned just as he reached for the door. “Wait . . . you said she and her Companion.”

“Yes.”

“I didn't know her horse was injured.”

“Yllafiel wasn't injured. But with Lynal gone—it's complicated,” he said as he lowered his arm and clasped his hands in front of him. “How much of Lynal's relationship with Yllafiel did she share with you?”

“As much as I'd let her,” Elfyn wiped her face and put her hands on her hips. “When I would listen. And I never listened much. That damn horse always seemed too uppity for my taste.”

Herald Lorin pursed his lips. “Companions are not horses. I'm sure Lynal told you that.”

“She did. But it still looked like a horse to me.”

“And the bond between Companions and their Chosen is for life.”

Elfyn narrowed her eyes. “I'm not sure what you're trying to say. You mean because Lynal died, that Yllafiel died as well?”

“When a Companion loses their Chosen, they usually die of grief.” He glanced back at the door. “Josef's own Companion is concerned because no one can reach Yllafiel through Mindspeech. All available Heralds and Companions are out looking for her. She disappeared from the fields when Lynal died.”

“So you're saying she's run off to die.” Hands still on her hips, Elfyn went to the window and looked out over the garden. She could see Heralds with their Companions, and younger children dressed in gray with their white horses as they took off into the forest. “The horse is just going to give up?” She looked back at Herald Lorin.

The expression on his face surprised her. He looked stricken and she wondered if her brisk manner had offended him. He took in a deep breath before he answered. “The Companion is not just giving up. Yllafiel believes that there is no other reason to live without her Chosen.” Lorin finally moved from where he'd planted himself and joined Elfyn at the window. “Elfyn . . . I know about . . . your feelings toward Heralds and how you feel toward Yllafiel.”

“You do, do you?” Elfyn felt that old pang of guilt mixed inside her own drowning grief when she thought about the first Herald she ever met. “Lynal tell you how a Herald found her father dead and brought me the news after I gave birth to her? Did she tell you how I picked up the pieces with a child and no husband? How I considered her a gift because my beloved was gone,
only to have that gift taken from me by the very same white-robed people?” She tried to keep her temper under control, but she knew she was failing. Despair had settled too close to her heart, and she feared she would fall into its dark, bottomless pit at any moment. A pit her daughter had kept her from entering. “I wanted to spend my life as a wife and a mother, and my world shattered that day. Lyn was the only light I had. So when she was chosen by that horse—and the Heralds came for her—”