Soulkeeper Page 22

  “This will take…” she started, but Devin immediately interrupted her.

  “It will be done,” he said. “No questioning it.”

  Jacaranda’s face twitched ever so slightly.

  “Very well,” she said. “Shall I assist you to speed up the process?”

  He thought of her digging into the earth with her hands and shuddered.

  “No,” he said. “You’ve dug enough graves. Leave this to me.”

  It took about an hour, but at last he dug what he believed to be a large enough grave. Next came a thorough search of the homes, with Tesmarie helping to point out any bodies he might miss. One by one he laid the little faeries in a row. They looked like stiff, beautiful dolls, and it pained Devin to think of what this village had been like before the monster of the void had torn them asunder. It must have been a wonderful place, full of life and buzzing dragonfly wings. Such a pity he saw only its quiet, hollowed ruin.

  When the last were laid to rest, Devin poured the dirt back over the bodies, burying the alabaster forms beneath a layer of dark soil.

  “I would pray to the Sisters that they show mercy and bring their souls to the heavens,” Devin said awkwardly. “But I do not know what gods or goddesses creatures such as you pray to, nor if you have souls to take.”

  “The dragons made us,” Tesmarie said. She’d perched back on his shoulder, and she’d spent the past ten minutes sniffling as she watched the familiar faces added to the pile. “And the dragons will take us. You… you can pray if you want, though. It’d make me feel better.”

  Devin lowered his head and whispered a simple prayer to Anwyn. Perhaps it was improper, asking a human goddess for a magical creature’s aid, but in his heart it felt right.

  “Be with all of us here, Anwyn, both the living and the beloved deceased,” he prayed. “We are all in need. Grant succor and comfort to us living, and your love and mercy to the dead. To those in this grave we say good-bye, but only for a time, for we shall meet once again.”

  Tesmarie dusted his collar with diamonds, but when he glanced her way she was wiping her eyes and smiling.

  “You’re pretty good with your words,” she said. “For a human, anyway.”

  “I try my best, little one. I hate to ask another favor of you, but might you lead us out from the forest? So much of the woods has changed that I fear my tracking skills may not be reliable.”

  Tesmarie meekly nodded.

  “I will,” she said. “But only on one condition.”

  “What is that?”

  “You let me stay on your shoulder. My wings could use the rest.”

  “A fair deal,” Devin said, and he weakly smiled despite the horrors of the day. “Consider yourself always welcome at my side.”

  CHAPTER 21

  I never thought I’d be so happy to see the sky,” Devin said as their trio emerged from the woods to the edge of Oakenwall.

  “It’s especially beautiful at sunset,” Tesmarie added. She fluttered off his shoulder. “Though I doubt you humans can see all of its colors.”

  Devin couldn’t imagine what other colors might be hidden within the yellow, orange, and red streaks painting the sky, but he didn’t doubt her, either. Ever since the arrival of the black water it seemed each day offered a new reminder of their ignorance to the world.

  “So what will you do now?” Devin asked the faery. “I must return with Jacaranda to Londheim and report what we found. You are welcome to come with us, if you feel it will be safe.”

  “Safe?” she asked. “Why would Londheim be unsafe?”

  Devin suddenly found himself awkwardly trying to answer.

  “Because humans are frightful, superstitious people,” he said. “And I do not know how they will react to seeing one such as you.”

  Tesmarie fluttered her wings and bit down on her lower lip. Her eyes bounced between him and the forest. She’d been subdued ever since leaving her village, her chipper tone replaced with a solemn, dignified pain.

  “I… no, I’ll be fine on my own. Just fine. You stay safe without me, you understand? No more running into dangerous forests, breathing in poisonbells, and almost being a songmother’s dinner. Bye-bye Devin. Bye-bye, soulless one.”

  Tesmarie hovered backward toward the trees. There was no hiding her hesitation. Devin waved good-bye and then started for the empty logger camp. Jacaranda, who had stood silently during the entire exchange, suddenly spoke up.

  “Her usefulness outweighed her distraction. It is better if she remained with us.”

  “Can’t argue with you there,” Devin said. “But it’s not our choice.”

  The first thing Devin did was check on their two horses. They were still inside the fence, and he retrieved a bucket from the nearby workshops, filled it with water from the trough, and ensured that both drank their fill. When that was done he returned to Jacaranda, who had not moved from her spot in the middle of the camp.

  “We’re staying here until morning,” Devin said as he began the process of building a fire. “Consider it an order not to argue or object. We both could use a long night’s rest.”

  Jacaranda wordlessly accepted the order and began calmly examining the cabins one after another. Devin was vaguely aware of her as he lit and then carefully kindled his fire. Right now he wanted nothing more than a freshly cooked meal, and the squirrel he’d shot on their way out of the forest would do nicely. Jacaranda returned to the fire carrying a long stick wrapped in a discarded shirt. She lit it like a torch and then left without explanation. Devin assumed she was lighting the fireplace in her chosen cabin. He kept the spit turning, his mouth drooling at the smell.

  Several minutes later Jacaranda emerged from a cabin and sat down beside him.

  “Find one you liked?” he asked. Sure, soulless were terrible at conversation, but he’d decided that wouldn’t stop him from trying. Better to pretend Jacaranda was a normal human than going on as if she were a thoughtless doll.

  “The cabins are equally hospitable.”

  “If they are all equally hospitable, how do you pick which one to sleep in?”

  “I have not picked.”

  Devin frowned at her. “Then why…”

  He looked to the cabin she’d entered and immediately swore. Smoke billowed from its windows. Devin lurched to his feet despite knowing it was already too late. Flames licked the curtains and seared the walls. What in the Goddesses’ names could he do about it? Put it out? With what? He looked to Jacaranda, confused, and then remembered the orders she’d revealed to him.

  Do ensure Nathan Evart’s survival. Burn his home if he is missing or dead.

  “Who was Nathan Evart?” he asked.

  Jacaranda sat beside the cook fire and stared at the roasting squirrel.

  “I do not know.”

  “How did you know that cabin was his?”

  “Master told me what to look for.”

  “What did he tell you to look for?”

  “I am not to say.”

  Of course not. Devin hadn’t the strength to force the answer out of her. She’d cracked earlier and revealed her current orders, but pressuring her harder to betray Gerag might lead her to fighting back. That, and he was just plain exhausted. It had been one very, very long day.

  “Forget it.” He pulled the spit free from the fire and set it aside to cool. “Let’s just eat.”

  They finished their meal in silence. They drank from their water skins, then refilled them from a giant trough that collected rainwater. Twice Devin heard the buzzing of insect wings and looked about earnestly. A dragonfly the first time, a large beetle the second. His disappointment contended with his relief. The people of Londheim were still acclimating to the presence of the crawling mountain. How might they react to an onyx faery zipping to and fro?

  The sun completed its descent by the time Devin decided to pack it in. He called Jacaranda over and re-dressed the bandages on her fingers. The swelling had reduced somewhat, and so far he saw no signs of infect
ion. Couldn’t hope for much more than that.

  “Since you burned that one down, I figure you can bunk in one of the others,” he told Jacaranda as he finished wrapping the last of her fingers.

  “The weather is not a danger,” she said. “I will sleep outside.”

  “A bed will be more comfortable.”

  “My comfort is irrelevant so long as I do not injure myself.”

  Devin sighed. It might not be safe sleeping under starlight beside the forest. What other bizarre creatures might lurk within? If plants could talk and manipulate, what of the insects? He shuddered at the thought. If a wasp started speaking to him, he’d put a bullet through its body. His mind could only handle so much change. The last thing he needed were the bastards of the insect kingdom explaining why they were about to sting him to death.

  “Do as you wish,” he decided. “I’ll be in that cabin over there in case you need me.”

  “I will not,” she said.

  “You never know.”

  The cabin Devin chose was the smallest of the lot, containing a single bed, a crudely built dresser, and a locked chest underneath the bed. No doubt the key was lost somewhere among Janus’s many victims. Devin surrendered its contents to the mysteries of the universe and climbed atop the straw mattress. He collapsed onto his back and let out a long groan. Damn did it feel good to lie down. Devin used his bedroll as a pillow, closed his eyes, and whispered his nightly prayer to the Sisters.

  The reaping hour arrived. Devin’s eyes snapped open. He’d hoped that his exhaustion would allow him to finally sleep through it. No such luck. As always he felt the shiver in the air. The world grew unnaturally quiet. Grumbling against the cosmic injustice, he flung off the thick blankets and made for the door. The cabin was well insulated, and the blankets combined with the fire he’d built left him coated with a thin layer of sweat. A brief walk in the cool night air sounded divine while he waited for the moment to pass.

  It took him a full second to understand what he saw, for it made no sense. Piercing the clear night sky was a thin white line. It was close, so close, and almost like…

  Devin sprinted barefoot to the center of the camp, his fears confirmed by a beam of light rising from Jacaranda’s head. Her eyes were closed, her body stiff. The symbol of the three Sisters shone translucent blue across her forehead.

  “No, no, no,” Devin said. What happened? How had she died? He fell to one knee, repeating the words of the reaping ritual.

  “By Alma, we are born. By Lyra, we are guided. By Anwyn, we—”

  A soul shot through the pale beam, but it did not travel up to the heavens. It traveled downward, piercing through the glowing symbol on her forehead and vanishing with a tremendous crack. Air blasted outward, knocking Devin off his feet. He watched from his rear as the beam vanished. The reaping hour came to its end, and to mark its passage, Jacaranda sat up in her bedroll and shrieked at the top of her lungs. There were no words to it. No form. Just long, meaningless, overwhelming shock and horror.

  “Jacaranda?” he asked. Her scream buried his words. Her eyes were open. Her fingers clawed the flesh of her face. Devin grabbed her blanket and tackled her into a makeshift cocoon. His strong arms pinned her hands at her sides, preventing her from damaging herself further. Jacaranda screamed, and screamed, each one a little bit weaker as her voice cracked and she gasped for breath.

  And then suddenly there were words within the mindless howling.

  “Let me go,” she shrieked at the top of her lungs. “Let—me—go!”

  Devin released the bundle of blankets and limbs. Jacaranda thrashed away from him, tripped over her own feet, chose to crawl. Once on the other side of the fire she spun about and scooted farther until she could rest on her hands and knees. She looked like a wild animal frightened for its life. Devin slowly held his hand out to her. He kept his words gentle in hopes of preventing further alarm, but that soothing calm in his voice did not match the panic in his heart. This was unprecedented. A child of the Goddesses lacking the soul Alma was to deliver upon birth, a tattooed and claimed soulless, was now awake. Aware. Alive.

  “It’s all right,” he said. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I just wanted to restrain you before you hurt yourself.”

  “Don’t touch me,” she said. Her fingers clasped the hilts of her daggers. “Don’t come near me.”

  “I’ll stay right here,” he said. His pulse pounded like two drums on either side of his neck, but he clenched his teeth as a way to focus. Panic would harm them both. Had to stay collected, puzzle this out.

  Jacaranda stared at him, her gaze never leaving his. The silence grew heavy. After a time she started to look bewildered. Her hands shook. Her head twitched as her eyes widened with alarm. Color started to drain from her face and neck. Devin watched, frightened and unsure, until he realized what was happening.

  “Breathe, Jacaranda,” he said. “Breathe.”

  She sucked in a single ragged gasp, and that intake of air shuddered through her like a jolt of lightning. It seeped back out through her lips slowly, and was then followed by another deep inhale. Each inhalation looked like it absorbed her entire faculties, her shoulders pulling back and her chest thrusting out. The color returned to her lips, and her body’s shakes lessened. Devin sat down and patiently waited it out, for it did not take long before her breathing came naturally.

  “Th-th,” she said. He tried not to react. It was like watching a child grow leaps and bounds in mere seconds. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said, as if he’d actually done anything. He smiled at her to hide his own panic. “Are you… are you all right?”

  “I—I don’t—what?” she said. “What do you mean? Physically? Mentally? No, Devin, I’m not—I’m not—damn it, this is, this is…” She was starting to cry. “I don’t… do I sit? Stand? My words, who chooses them? I’m fine. Not fine. Lies. I can lie. I can lie?”

  “Stay calm,” Devin said. He’d encountered many people having undergone a recent trauma, and he relied on that experience to help Jacaranda through. “Focus on one thing at a time. Breathe in, then breathe out. Place your hands where you’d like them to be. Breathe in, breathe out. Sit how you feel comfortable. Breathe in, breathe out. Close your eyes, or leave them open, whichever you want. In, then out.”

  He watched her do as he said with frightening intensity. What could she possibly be feeling? To regain a soul after a lifetime without, did that make her a stranger to her own body? Her own life? Jacaranda’s tears swiftly vanished as she followed his commands. When at last she was calm, she looked at Devin and asked a simple question with a million possible answers.

  “What am I?”

  Devin swallowed hard.

  “I don’t know.”

  Her lower lip trembled.

  “That’s not… I don’t want to hear that. Please. Tell me an answer. I… I don’t think I care if it’s true. Inside me, I feel it, this… this need.”

  “All right,” Devin said. “I will explain as best I can for how I understand it. Maybe that will help you. Alma did not deliver your soul to you when you were born. Instead it was given to you mere moments ago, and it seems to have… awakened you in ways I cannot hope to understand. You lived your previous existence through basic survival instincts and a strict need to follow orders. Right now, you’re making decisions for yourself. I’m sure it’s overwhelming, to say the least.”

  Jacaranda shifted more to a sitting position, the fire still between them. Time passed, tense and quiet. Was she analyzing his guess? Debating her future? He couldn’t imagine the chaos within her mind. There wasn’t a way to know without asking, but it felt like patience was vital if he wished to help the woman through this ordeal.

  “Might we talk?” he asked after a several minutes.

  “I cannot stop you from talking,” she said.

  “It’s not my voice I wish to hear.”

  Her eyes flicked his way, and he could not read the emotions they held. After
a moment’s hesitation, she nodded.

  “Go ahead.”

  Devin decided to go with the most pressing question on his mind.

  “What do you remember?”

  “All of it,” Jacaranda said. Her eyes stared into the fire and refused to budge. “My memories are my own. I remember the sounds, the sensations, even the reasons I made decisions. They happened to me, only I feel as if I wasn’t… there for it. I don’t know how to explain so you’ll understand. It’s like I stepped into a stranger’s life, only it isn’t a stranger. It’s me. Every bit of it.”

  “So it’s like a dream?”

  She frowned and looked confused.

  “I don’t know, Devin. Perhaps? I have never dreamed so I cannot compare.”

  There was another strange idea he figured the Wise would be interested in. Were dreams connected to souls? If so, did that lend greater importance to their meanings? Devin tapped his fingers together as his thoughts raced.

  “How do you feel when you look back on, well, your life before tonight?” he asked. Jacaranda seemed to be steadily growing more sure of herself, and he hoped to keep her talking. Each answer grew more thoughtful, and the muscles in her arms and legs slowly relaxed.

  “I walked through my life perfectly numb. Dulled. I never felt emotions. I never chose an action, I merely… acted. If someone insulted me it meant nothing. If they touched me, kissed me, I never responded with anger or guilt or pleasure…”

  She was staring at her fingers. The bandages he’d wrapped them in.

  “No matter how much it hurt,” she whispered. “I did what I was told.”

  Devin’s guilt gnawed at him with renewed vigor. His petulant anger had meant her suffering.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “For keeping you awake that night, for making you dig until you bled. It was wrong of me. One day I pray you will forgive me.”

  “You’re not the only one who needs forgiveness.” She turned her hands before her as if studying them for the first time. “I killed a child. I took his life, and I felt nothing. He wasn’t the first. Am I a murderer, Devin?”