The Fifth Vertex (The Sigilord Chronicles) (35 page)

Further up into the hills and away from the coast, shepherds tended to their flocks of sheep, dogs yipping and racing back and forth to keep the animals in check. Up on the road the sea breeze still smelled of saltwater but didn't carry with it the stench of decaying fish.

She ran until well after what she thought should have been lunchtime, her stomach turning in on itself with hunger. She tried but couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten anything, or drunk anything other than sea water.

As she crested a ridge playing host to a flock of geese, her feet felt as though she had run them into bloody stumps, and her knees and back ached. Weak and lightheaded, she kept moving forward out of momentum and determination and little else.

On the other side of the ridge, the bright green hillside sloped down toward the southern shore of the ocean. It appeared as if a small army of merchants and craftsman had lain siege to the hill and taken it as their own. Tents and campfires dotted the hills, and huge roped-in squares contained all manner of crafts and handiworks. Everywhere she could see people were buying and selling wares, laughing and smiling and playing music.

And cooking!

Her mouth watered.
 

The crowds, and more importantly the food, drew nearer as she stumbled her way down the slope. Her knees gave way a few times, and she hit the ground, rolling. One time she didn't bother trying to get up because rolling down the hill on her side was easier than walking.
 

With the last of her strength near the end of a roll, she pushed off the ground, teetering up onto her feet. As she did, her eyes met those of a man and his wife, who looked up from their struggles with a defiant lamb that had no interest in being sheared. A moment later, a young man and woman appeared from within a tent with concerned looks on their faces.

It was the last thing she saw before dropping to her knees and passing out.

***

"Young lady?" called a woman's soft, gentle voice.
 

Cailix rolled to the side of the cot on which she lay and retched, but nothing came out. There wasn't enough in her stomach to throw up. She didn't know where she was or why, and that uncertainty scared her beyond belief. She had to get out.

"Miss? Can you hear me?" came the same woman's voice again.

Cailix blinked and looked around. She was in a small, whitish tanned-hide tent. From the size and shape of it, it was probably one of the hundreds of merchant tents she had seen on the hill. An older woman with a kind smile hovered over her, wringing her hands with worry. A short, stout man with a gray beard loomed behind her, pacing. She heard two more voices whispering behind her.

Instinctively, she took note of the small fish knife on a table within arm's reach. From the whispers, she knew roughly where the other two people were, a girl and a boy, she guessed. She also knew about how tall they would be.

Without hesitation, she lunged for the fish knife, rolled to the side, then leapt over the cot, grabbing the boy by the waist and holding the knife to his throat.

It smells so good
, she thought. She could smell the boy's blood through his skin, feel it pumping through his veins. She could feel the power it would grant her. All she had to do was poke one tiny little hole in his...

"Woah there, girl," said the man, his voice every bit as friendly and warm as the woman's. There was definitely something strange about these people.
 

Nobody is this nice,
she thought.
They're up to something
. Anybody that nice had to be working some kind of angle or scam.

"You're safe here, dear one," the woman said, holding her hands up palm-out in a pacifying gesture. "We saw you runnin' down the hill all dirty and bruised up, wearin' a slave tunic."

Cailix risked a moment to look down at her clothes. She no longer wore the prisoner's garb Anderis and his men had given her on the ship. Instead, she wore a bright blue dress with silver filigree worked into puffy short sleeves and around the waist. It was the most gaudy, pretentious, beautiful thing she had ever seen.

Stunned, Cailix said nothing. She just looked up and stared back at the family. The girl and boy both appeared to be the same age as Cailix, and she had no idea how old the parents were. Old was old, and she couldn't tell the difference between the various types of old people.

The girl, still standing close to the boy, smiled wide. "It's one of my best. Do you like it? I like to wear it at carnival and when Ma and Pa take us up north to the city. I think it suits you nicely."

The girl gave Cailix and appraising look. She seemed genuinely proud of the dress.
 

"My name's Drayna," she said. "And that's my brother, Bayard. And these are our parents, Ma and Pa."

The woman chuckled, a gleam in her eye as she looked at Drayna. It was a loving, maternal look. Cailix felt ill and wanted to cry.

"My name is Orla, and this is my husband, Woss," she said. "Please, dear, put the knife down and let my boy go. No one in this tent is going to harm you. Come now, give us the knife and we can get some food in your belly. You must be starving."

Cailix felt her resolve fail. All her instincts told her to run, or to stand her ground and keep her position of strength. She couldn't allow herself to be vulnerable. She had to keep her back to the wall and her eye on the exits. She had to survive. She had to eat.

The blond-haired girl with piercing, almost ghostlike blue eyes, kept smiling, her head tilted to the side slightly. Cailix had seen that look before. It was
pity
. The girl actually felt sorry for Cailix. But why?

The boy, his brown hair smelling of saltwater and farm animals, seemed calm. His pulse had only quickened a little. He wasn't afraid. He knew Cailix was going to put the knife down.

The food did smell amazing. They had some kind of meat stew simmering over the fire just outside the tent. Out of the corner of her eye she spied a basket filled with biscuits and rolls.

She couldn't take it any longer. Cailix dropped the knife and made for the freshly baked breads. She grabbed a roll with one hand and a sweet, sticky bun with the other. If she could have crammed them both in her mouth at the same time she would have.

"There now," comforted Orla, patting Cailix on the back. "Take your time, dear, or you'll make yourself sick again. Come, let's have a sit by the fire."

Cailix barely noticed the family at all, so consumed was she with stuffing food into her mouth. At that moment her mouth seemed like an annoying barrier that just slowed the food down on its way into her belly.

Orla sat her on a log in front of the fire and wrapped her in a thick wool blanket. It scratched at her neck but it was warm and smelled nice. Bayard and Drayna took seats on a log on the other side of the fire. Woss continued pacing, still not saying anything other than stopping a few times to whisper in Orla's ear.

Cailix stared at her dirty hands as she chewed and watched big droplets of water splash off the bread. At first she thought it must be raining, but then she noticed that only her cheeks were wet. Like a wound that only hurts after you see how much it bleeds, Cailix let it all go. All the pain, the hurt, the sadness, the loneliness—it all came rushing out in sobs and tears and sighing shudders.

"Oh you poor thing," Orla said, scooting in next to Cailix. "Let's get some supper in you, and then if you're up to it, you can tell me about it."

"Flupper?" Cailix spat, shooting crumbs into the nice woman's face. "Supper!" The tears stopped. She had important things to do and couldn't be bothered with weakness right then.

"What of it, dear?"

"I'm late! I need to find the constable!" She bounced up, shedding the blanket.

"What do you need the constable for? Did something happen to you? Is that why you're all alone out here?" Orla asked.

"I'll bet it was slavers," Drayna said. "You saw the way she was dressed, I bet she escaped from a slave ship."

"Or pirates!" Bayard added, intrigued by the drama.

Orla hushed her children with a wave of her hand and a clucking noise.

"Unless he got himself waylaid somewhere, the constable's long gone by now," Woss said, finally standing still, his arms folded across his chest.

"I need to find the constable now. This island is in danger!" Cailix said.

"Nobody would bother attacking this island, girl."

"I know, 'This ain't no place but a place between places'" she mocked, quoting the fisherman.

Woss grinned. "So, you've met Hutcher then."

"This is serious. Which way to the constable? I don't have time to explain."

"We're not going to bother the constable with the ramblings of a half-starved waif," Woss said.

"Woss!" Orla scolded.

"What? The constable won't sound the alarm without cause. We all know what happened last time."

"Alarm? What alarm?" Cailix demanded, grabbing Woss by his vest.

"Nothing, girl. Forget I said anything. You need to calm back down and get some food in you. You're delirious and imagining things."

"If you don't get me to the constable or sound an alarm or do
something
, everyone on this island is going to die!"

These people are so stone-headed. They'll never listen to me!
, she thought.

"And who would want to attack this island?" Woss said with defiance, hands on his hips.

"People who can do this." She spun on her heels and found the lamb, sheared and tethered to a post near the tent.
 

This is okay
, she told herself.
This lamb's going to end up as someone's dinner anyway. I need to do this to show them what's coming. This is not like what Anderis did. I am not like him
.

She felt the blood course through the veins of the little animal. Cailix called to the blood, controlled it, manipulated it. Without touching it, it was hers, and she could do with it as she wished.

She clenched her fists and the lamb exploded into a cloud of red mist.

"By the heavens!" Woss shouted. Orla staggered back, crossing herself with some kind of religious warding Cailix had seen the monks use before. Drayna shirieked, and Bayard stood still, his legs crossed.

He's pissed himself
, she thought.
What is wrong with these people?

In the cool blue twilight by the shore, dozens of people screamed. Those screams drew more people out of their tents, who also screamed when they saw what was happening.

"Where is the alarm?" Cailix demanded. She turned her hands over into little cup shapes. The swirling mist of lamb's blood spun like a tornado, hovering just above the ground.

Woss said nothing, but pointed to the hilltop behind them. Barely visible in the dim light was a pyramid of stacked wood and kindling.
They probably light that when the lighthouse fails
, she thought.
That'll do for now
.

She sent the blood cloud soaring up the hillside. As it flew higher, she vibrated the blood droplets faster and faster until, just before reaching the hilltop, they burst into flame. A moment later the signal fire blazed to the sky, casting a flickering orange glow on the hillside. Before she could decide on her next move, another signal fire flared to life further down the shore, and another on an inland mountaintop.

That should get the constable's attention
, she thought.
Hopefully it won't get me killed or thrown in jail
.

"Do you believe me now?" Cailix asked the stunned family, expecting them to flee in terror, to run from her power. Instead, they stood their ground. Orla and her daughter gazed back at her with even more pity than before.

"Oh you poor, poor girl," Orla said. "What have they done to you?"

26

Goodwyn squinted back at the face in the wall mirror, convinced that it couldn't possibly be his own. It had grown black with stubble on the cheeks and jaw, but remained smooth under the nose. The deep eye sockets seemed to have sunk further into the stranger's face, casting dark shadows below the eyes. Once-straight long hair now rebelled, bunching into little waves and curls.

The man staring back at him wasn't the same boy who had left Kest only a short time ago.

Goodwyn grabbed the de-thorned cactus leaf from the edge of the water-filled basin, crushed it, and spread the icy cold goo on his stubble.

"You're really going to shave that off? I like it," Therren said, his smiling face appearing in the mirror.

"It doesn't look like me," Goodwyn said, dunking a sharp dagger in the water.

Therren strode up behind Goodwyn, rested his hands on his hips, and gently kissed the back of his neck. "But it gives you such a handsome, rugged edge."

Goodwyn smiled at his friend in the mirror. Nothing made him happier than having Therren back, but everything was all so…different. He felt like he was living a different life now, and everything from Kest—from
before
—belonged to someone else.

"Therren," he said, turning to face him. His pulse quickened, and he felt short of breath—exhilarated. "Everything's different now. All I want is to go back to that night, the night you gave me this." Goodwyn lifted the locket that hung from his neck.