Souls of Aredyrah 3 - The Taking of the Dawn (45 page)

The mock trial proceeded with the only
witnesses to Dayn’s crimes the Vestry itself, and of course
Sheireadan, who had been forced by his father to speak against the
defendant. The trial was over in less than a heartbeat, at least
that was how it seemed to Sheireadan. What the Vestry was doing was
unjust, even he knew that, and though he’d been raised to hate Dayn
with every fiber of his being, for some reason this felt…wrong.
Without thinking, Sheireadan had risen from his seat when the
verdict was reached—guilty. But he had very nearly fallen back into
it when the punishment was read—death. At that moment, his stomach
had felt as though it was being swept into a whirlpool, but when
his father announced, “Death by fire…at high sun…with all the eyes
of Kiradyn as witness…,” it was as if his soul had been swept in
with it.

Sheireadan staggered out the door of the Hall
and into the cold evening air. His body felt feverish but at the
same time bathed in chills. He swallowed in an attempt to calm his
churning insides. If he hadn’t left the room as quickly as he had,
he was sure he would have vomited the contents of his stomach onto
his boots. He leaned his forehead against the side of the building,
beads of sweat trickling down his neck. Death by fire, an agonizing
way to die, even for a demon. But was that was Dayn was, a demon?
Though Sheireadan had always believed it, a nagging voice in the
back of his head insisted that Dayn was innocent, and that nagging
voice was Falyn.

Sheireadan stared blindly at his feet.
How
am I going to tell her? When she learns I spoke against Dayn.
He groaned and closed his eyes, replaying his father’s lies as well
as his own, and the verdict that had resulted because of them.
Falyn would never forgive him, of that he was certain. But what
could he do? There was no way to challenge the verdict now; were he
to retract his words, he might very well find himself on the pyre
next to Dayn. As for the punishment, the Vestry had no choice. Fire
was the only way to purge evil. The Written Word said so.

Sheireadan shook his head. If only he and
Falyn had left before their father had come home, where might they
be now? In those dreadful clan lands, no doubt, but at least there
they would be safe. If Lorcan had gone after them, he wouldn’t have
stood a chance against the clansmen. Sheireadan straightened his
back. The clansmen! If he could get word to Dayn’s family…to the
clans! He spun from the wall and ran full speed down the road that
led home, his mind racing with a plan. Falyn knew the way to
Haskel’s homestead; Dayn had drawn her a map. She was a swift rider
and…

The house came into view; Sheireadan slowed
his pace. Falyn would be in the cellar around back, and probably
well-guarded by his father’s men. He stopped at the side of the
house, gulping to catch his breath, then peeked around the corner.
As predicted, two men were lingering near the cellar door.

Sheireadan pulled in a steadying breath and
strode toward them. “Gentlemen,” he said casually.

“Ah…Lorcan’s boy,” the two said in greeting.
“How fares the meeting?”

“Well. But slow.” Sheireadan nodded toward
the cellar. “Has my sister given you any trouble?”

One of the men chuckled. “Just
entertainment.”

Sheireadan felt fury bubble in his throat.
“What do you mean
entertainment
?” he demanded.

The man stammered, “I—I—nothing…I mean, she
had a slew of words for us, is all.”

The other guard’s head bobbed in agreement.
“Just words. She has a temper, that one.”

Sheireadan eyed them threateningly. “Indeed
she does. But my father’s is far worse.”

The men’s faces blanched.

“Well,” Sheireadan said. “You’ll not have to
listen to my sister’s temper any more tonight. My father has sent
me to escort her to her room.”

The men hesitated. “We were given orders to
keep her confined until your pa came back.”

“And I was given orders to get her to her
bed.” Sheireadan folded his arms across his chest. “I left the Hall
but moments ago, gentlemen. The sentence has been announced, no
surprise there, but my father now must oversee the construction of
the pyre and—”

The men snorted. “Bout time we had a real
demon at the roast,” one of them said.

“At any rate,” Sheireadan said with forced
control, “my father does not wish his daughter to sleep in a cold
damp hole when a nice warm bed is but steps away.”

The men shifted their stance. “Well, I
dunno,” one said.

Sheireadan curled his lip. “You doubt me?
Very well. Whose name shall I give my father when I tell him you
denied my sister her bed
and
risked her health over it?”

The men glanced at each other. “Risk her
health… but… we mean…all right,” one of them grumbled at last. “We
don’t want the girl gettin’ sick, after all.”

“But you’d best be tellin’ your father that,
ye hear?” the other added. He scowled, then nudged the other man to
follow him to the road.

Sheireadan waited until he was sure the men
were gone. He slid out the board securing the cellar door and
tossed it to the ground, then lifted it open with a
creak
.

In the farthest reaches of the cellar an oil
lamp flickered. Sheireadan made his way down the steps toward it,
taking them slowly and cautiously. His feet were big, and the
stones were narrow and slick, but that wasn’t the reason he
descended with trepidation. He paused, attempting to gather his
wits, and wiped his clammy hands down his pants. The musty smell of
the cellar always filled him with fear and loathing.

“Falyn,” he said shakily. If only he could
get her to come up the steps, rather than him having to go down
them. “Falyn.” But there was no response.

Sheireadan forced his feet downward until at
last he reached the bottom. He shivered and wrapped his arms around
himself. The walls felt as though they were closing in around him.
The cellar was a dismal space, he thought, with its cobwebs and
slimy walls, and the horrific memories it always brought him. For
some reason, Lorcan had always gravitated to placing his children
in dark holes when punishing them. Maybe someday someone would
place him in a hole.

Sheireadan surveyed the shadowy recesses,
noting the familiar shelves lined with canned goods and the wooden
barrels filled with grain and assorted sundries. But he saw no sign
of Falyn. He stepped toward a stack of crates in the far corner.
The lantern was sitting atop them; perhaps that was where he would
find her. Leaning around the crates, he was relieved, but saddened,
to see his sister curled up on a pile of burlap bags. It had once
been Sheireadan’s own corner of solitude, if you could call it
that, offering him a place to hide from the monsters in the cellar,
and the real-life one that lived in the house above.

He stepped around and squatted next to Falyn.
The lantern threw flickering patterns upon her face, revealing the
traces of tears that had no doubt lulled her to sleep. He placed a
hand on her shoulder. “Falyn,” he said. “Wake up.”

Her eyes shot open, and she blinked them into
focus.

“It’s all right. I’ve come to take you
out.”

Falyn sat up with a start. “What happened to
Dayn?” she asked anxiously. Then her eyes grew stormy. “How could
you have lied about him like that!”

“Later. Let’s get out of here first,”
Sheireadan said, guiding her up by an arm.

He grabbed up the lantern and helped her
navigate the steps, then closed the door quietly behind them.
Snuffing the light, he directed his eyes to the house. The windows
were dark, a good sign their father was not yet home.

Sheireadan motioned for Falyn to follow
him.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

Sheireadan lifted a finger to his lips.
“Sshhh,” he whispered. “The barn.” Falyn looked puzzled, but
followed as instructed.

When they reached the barn, Sheireadan
glanced back at the house, then eased open the barn door just wide
enough for the two of them to enter.

All of the horses were in their stalls,
except for the one Falyn had taken earlier and that Lorcan had
ridden to Vestry Hall. Sheireadan set the lantern down, then
grabbed a blanket and a saddle and threw them on the back of the
nearest horse. He secured the straps beneath its belly, then
attached the bridle and reins.

He lifted a riding cape from a nail by the
door, then took Falyn by the arm and pulled her toward the horse.
“Get on,” he ordered.

“What? Why?” Falyn asked. “Where am I
going?”

Sheireadan threw the cape around her
shoulders and fastened it beneath her chin. Then he lifted her onto
the horse. “Do you remember the directions Dayn gave you to his
uncle’s place?”

“Of course, but—”

“That’s where you’re going.” Sheireadan
picked up the lantern and hooked it onto the pommel of the saddle,
then tossed a saddlebag next to it.

“But what about Dayn?”

“He’s to be executed in the morning.”

Falyn raised a hand to her throat, her eyes
wide with terror.

Sheireadan snatched some fire sticks from a
nearby box and shoved them into the saddlebag. “You have to get
help, Falyn. You’re the only one who can do it. The clans won’t let
the Vestry get away with this. The minute they hear of it, they’ll
ride in to save him.”

“What if there’s not enough time?” Falyn
asked desperately. “What if—”

“There won’t be if you don’t leave now.”
Sheireadan led the horse to the barn door. He peeked out, then
pushed it open.

“It’ll be dark before you reach the clan
lands,” he said. “But you’ve got the lantern.”

A cold breeze ruffled Sheireadan’s hair,
sending a chill down his spine. Falyn reached out a hand to him.
“When Father learns you let me out of the cellar—”

Sheireadan took her hand in his and forced a
smile. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. You just save Dayn, all
right?”

Falyn nodded, and Sheireadan slapped the
horse’s flank, launching the animal and its rider off into the
night.

Back to ToC

Chapter 37: Dangers in the Night

T
he sound of horse’s
hooves thundered down the road, sending mud flying and the sound of
urgency raging through the forest. The sky was still heavy with
clouds, obliterating a full moon that should have been bathing the
landscape in silvery light. Falyn glanced at the darkening trees on
either side of her. Their distorted shapes looked like charred
skeletons, she thought, reminding her of those that had littered
the pyres. She kicked in her heels. “Hyah!” she screamed, spurring
the horse on faster.

The tree line to her right was a dizzying
blur, but she kept her eyes trained on it nonetheless. It was
there, somewhere, that she would find the road leading to Haskel’s
place, that is if she hadn’t already passed it. Dayn had told her
it would be an easy miss; it was far less traveled than the main
road she was currently on. So far, she had seen nothing even
resembling a fork, and though speed was of the essence, she
realized she might miss it altogether if she didn’t slow down. She
tightened her hold on the reins, forcing the horse to ease its
pace.

Falyn scanned the forest, searching for even
the slightest break in the trees, but all she saw was an endless
maze of vines and foliage. Something caught her eye, adding more
worry to her already pounding heart. A thick fog was creeping along
the forest floor, blanketing everything it touched.

Her surroundings soon became cloaked in gray,
reducing Falyn’s range of vision to nearly nothing. She brought the
horse to a stop and dismounted. Mist swirled at her ankles as her
boots hit the dirt. Tugging the reins, she slowly walked, fanning
her skirt as she coaxed the fog from her path. She had not gone far
when she halted and unhooked the lantern to light it. Disturbing
noises were beginning to sound in the woods around her, no doubt
creatures of the night rousing for the hunt.

The horse snorted and neighed nervously.
Falyn placed a calming hand on its neck. “It’s all right,” she
cajoled. “We’ll be there soon.” But in truth she was beginning to
lose faith that she would ever find the turnoff.

The lantern, now lit, sent out an orb of
light, bathing the fog in eerie shades of green. Falyn's hands
began to tremble. Courage, girl, she told herself. A pair of
glowing eyes blinked at her from the shadows. She jumped and thrust
out the lantern toward them, but they vanished into the
darkness.

Falyn pushed her shaking legs forward, but
she soon realized she was hopelessly lost. It seemed as if she had
been traveling for hours—had she missed the fork? She glanced
behind her, not sure what she should do. Should she retrace her
steps, or continue in the direction she was heading?

Suddenly a sound screeched through the trees.
Falyn froze, her eyes darting back and forth. She lifted the
lantern just as a large, shadowy form rushed past.

“Who—who’s there?” Falyn asked. But she was
met by only silence.

“I—I’m looking for the homestead of Haskel of
the Aerie clan,” she continued, praying she was addressing a
clansman and not something far worse. “Could you tell me how to get
there?” She paused and listened, but again there was no response.
She continued to study the spot where she was sure she had seen the
shadow, but she saw no further movement. Determined her mind was
playing tricks, Falyn took a step, but then a dark shape emerged
onto the road.

Falyn drew a startled breath. Whatever was
standing before her was beyond the reach of the light, but judging
by its silhouette, it appeared to at least be human. “Please, sir,”
she said. “I need help. I must reach the clan lands.”

The figure did not say a word, but cocked its
head as if studying her.