Wintermore (Aeon of Light Book 1) (7 page)

“Preta, wait up,” Kilsa says, trotting behind and trying to catch up.

Preta slows her pace. “Hey you.”

“You meeting your brother now?”

“Yeah, Deet is finishing the Meezer cottage.”

“How about Yaz?”

“
Umm,
yeah—he’s probably there too.”

Kilsa beams. “Can I—”

Clist bullies his way between Preta and Kilsa. “Look at Preta, Preta the show-off Penter.”

Preta’s face twists as if she ate rotten rubbish. “
Clist
.”

With flaring nostrils, Clist flaps his arms and body like a gyrating jellyfish. “Real smart, Preta, Preta the show-off Penter. Phylarchy—where’d you hear that one?”

Preta sarcastically cocks her head to the side. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe a book. You know what those things are, right?”

Clist’s cronies join the fray. A short boy with two long front teeth like a beaver points at Preta’s chest. “
Eh
, Preta, you sure know lots of fancy shmancy words.”

“Better fancy shmancy than simple. Though I guess that’s what you get for being friends with this repugnant, hot-aired, mouth-breathing nitwit—simpletons.”

Clist slides to within an arm’s length of Preta. He’s so close she can smell the foul odor of his hot, moist breath. Clist’s brow arches with evil intent. “Nitwit, is it?
Simpleton
? At least I don’t get people killed; like my mother or father or a helpless boy in the woods.” Clist smirks and bounces up and down as his cronies laugh in a bellowing chorus.

Preta’s hands clinch into shaking fists. Blood rushes to her head, making it throb. A glimmer of aqua-blue light ripples over Preta’s eyes.

Clist crouches, scrunches his nose, and pretends to cry.

Preta’s fist shoots forward, striking Clist on the bridge of his nose.

Blood sprays to the ground.

In shock, Clist stumbles backward. “
What
—”

Preta strikes again, this time with her other fist as she moves forward, stalking him for another blow.

Clist continues wobbling backward and trips over his own feet, falling onto his butt with a hard plop.

Preta kicks his stomach and then straddles his torso with her boots. She collapses to her knees, pinning Clist down. Preta swings her arms wildly, striking him from face to body and back again. “Everybody dies—my fault—dies—everybody—die—you die, pig!”

Ms. Fallow frantically drags Preta off Clist. “Stop it. Preta Penter, stop!”

Preta stands up light-headed from the exertion. Her face beet red, she breathes in deep, erratic snorts.

“Everybody dies,” Preta mumbles with spit flying out of her mouth. Her arms shake with fists ready to strike.

Clist, on the ground and covered in blood, whimpers, rocking side to side.

Preta eyes him with aggressive focus, no tears, and no sympathy. She’s an animal ready to pounce on her prey for round two if Ms. Fallow releases her.

Ms. Fallow points at Clist’s cronies. “You there, you three, get him home, now.” She tugs on Preta’s arm. “And you, come with me.”

Preta resists Ms. Fallow’s tugs. She glares at Clist with rage. Another string of aqua-blue light ripples over her pupils. She catches a crony staring at her.

The stubby boy’s gaze snaps away, and he fixes his focus on his boot to avoid Preta’s wrath. He crosses his arms and scrapes the dirt with his heel.

Ms. Fallow tugs again, and Preta finally relents.

“What’s wrong with you? That’s no way for a young lady to act.”

Preta, silent and rigid, doesn’t say a word as she envisions fists and blood and screams for mercy.

Ms. Fallow forces Preta to look her in the eyes. “Preta?”

“
Oh, all right
. He said I get people killed, like my mother and my father and the boy in the woods.”

Ms. Fallow gently squeezes Preta’s hand. “None of those were your fault. Your father died in war, your mother from sickness, and the boy you never knew. The other day you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Don’t let people get to you like that. Control your emotions.”

Preta kicks the dirt. “I’ll try, I just—he’s such a—”

Ms. Fallow places her hand on Preta’s shoulder. “Clist can be a rear-end of a mule, that’s for sure. Though for all our sakes, next time laugh at the mule instead of beating him to a bloody pulp.”

SALTY TREAT

Preta and Ms. Fallow reach the end of town and turn onto Fishmongers Lane.

The fish peddlers stand next to their carts waiting to meet the boats returning with the morning’s catch.

A hunchbacked old woman no taller than her cart swings a small broom at a skinny, scruffy middle-aged man. “Blet, you blue-nosed filthy rat, get off my spot.”

Preta and Ms. Fallow giggle.

“Halona putting Blet in his place,
again
,” Ms. Fallow says.

Preta rolls her eyes then giggles. “As usual, though he sure is persistent.”

The fishermen tie up their small wooden and metal skiffs while others unload fish buckets into large ice-filled metal carts.

Waves crash over the jagged rocks next to the road, sending a cool mist across Preta’s path. She flinches away to avoid the relentless spray striking her face. Preta wipes her stinging eyes, and salt seeps into her mouth making her lips pucker.

Ahead, Grandpa sits on a stool while he scrapes a stone block and barks orders.

Deet peers through a metal measuring instrument as he points, directing two men holding string and spikes.

Using a long crowbar, Yaz wedges a medium-sized stone block into place on the foundation.

Deet quickly waves his hand back and forth. “And—there, mark.” He wipes his sweaty brow with his sleeve and grins at Preta and Ms. Fallow approaching. “Here come my two favorite girls.”

Preta waves. “Hey, Dee.”

Ms. Fallow extends her arm with a feminine wrist tilt. “My Deets.”

Deet caresses Ms. Fallow’s hand. “Lurrus, my love.” He hugs her in a tight embrace. He lifts her up with a spin and kisses her lips.

Preta swats the air. “Come on now, you two.”

Deet laughs, setting Lurrus back onto her feet. He gives her a kiss on the forehead and turns to Preta. “So how was school today?”

Preta glances at the ground and digs her toe deep into the dirt. “It was interesting, but nothing special.”

“Good.” Deet turns away and kisses Lurrus’s cheek. He smiles. “Let’s eat.”

They sit on a grass patch between a large maple tree and Grandpa propped on his stool.

Deet passes around dried meat, bread, and olive oil.

Grandpa holds out his arthritic hand and tries to make a fist. “Damned hands, getting old’s a bitch.”

Preta gives Grandpa a warm smile and pulls a copper cup out of her pack. She pours water from a large glass jug. “So, Dee, how’s the foundation coming?”

Deet stares at the cottage and nods. “It’s getting there. We should be done before the first snow.”

Yaz joins them and plops down on the grass. He lies on his back with legs and arms splayed. “You guys are killing me with all this labor. My butt’s a hot sweaty mess,” and he wiggles his backside on the ground.

Preta shivers at the thought. “Too much information, Yaz.”

Grandpa snorts. “
Ha
, right, just you wait a couple of years and you’ll see what really being tired is all about.”

Yaz sits up and points at the water jug sitting next to Preta. “Pass me that and the bread too.” He raises the jug and slurps the water as if a dog from a puddle.

Everyone stops eating and stares at him.

Yaz lowers the jug from his lips, and water dribbles out of his mouth. “What you all looking at?” he says with a shrug.

Preta raises her arm as she bites into a hunk of bread.

“What’s that?” Deet says, pointing at Preta’s knuckles.

“
Umm—
what’s what?”

“The blood on your hand and shirt. What happened?”

Preta peeks at her hand. “Oh, I…” She looks to Lurrus to save her. “I…”

Lurrus brushes her hand on Deet’s thigh. “A boy in class gave Preta a hard time, and she corrected him.”

Suspicious, Deet squints. “Hard time? What did he give you a hard time about?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Preta says, glancing away and trying to avoid Deet’s inquisition. “Just about the other day, it was no big deal.”

Yaz coughs, spitting out water. “
Ha
, you beat his ass, Sis. So you used a few moves I taught you, right?”

Grandpa pinches a bloodstain on Preta’s shirt. “Looks like quite a correction. Guess you gave better than you got from the looks of it.”

Yaz extends his arms, flexing his muscles. “Penters always do.”

Preta chuckles, though in a halfhearted manner.

Deet sidearms a soiled cloth at Yaz while still staring at Preta. “What do you mean the other day?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing.”

“Preta Penter, answer me.”

“
Oh fine
, about the boy in the woods dying.”

“And how would a boy in your class know about that?” Deet glares at Yaz.

“Huh?
What
—” Yaz says, chewing with a full mouth. He opens his arms. “What?”

Deet frowns. “Who’d you tell?”

Yaz takes an exaggerated gulp. “Me—tell? I didn’t, well… Maybe just Dix, but he doesn’t count. That’s it, I swear—I think…”

The wrinkles in Grandpa’s face tighten, and he jabs his knife in the ground. “You told that idiot loud mouth? You might as well have gathered the whole damned town and shouted it out for all to hear.”

Deet’s eyes bear down on Yaz, and he doesn’t say a word. He just stares through Yaz with a slow head shake. Deet breaks contact with his younger brother and shifts his focus to Preta. “Don’t let anyone get to you.”

“Next time anyone bothers you,” Yaz says, “I’ll be the one to correct them.”

Grandpa points his toothpick at Yaz’s face. “She can give out her own damned corrections just fine, and if you would’ve kept your big mouth shut, she wouldn’t have to correct anyone.”

Preta gently touches Grandpa’s arm. “Don’t worry about it; it’s okay. It was bound to come out sometime anyway.”

“Yeah, see,” Yaz says, “that’s what I’m saying. It was going to come out anyway
.
”

Deet looks away in disgust. “You just don’t know when to keep your yap shut, do you.”

Confused, Yaz scratches his ear. “Of course, sure I know when to keep my—”

Grandpa whips a piece of ham, hitting Yaz on his cheek. “That means shut up, dung for brains.”

Yaz plucks off the pork from his face, throws his head back, and drops it into his mouth and mumbles, “Whatever.”

An awkward silence befalls them.

After a few minutes, Preta finishes eating and stands. “I’m going to the privy.”

Grandpa and Yaz snore sound asleep, and Deet and Lurrus whisper and giggle at each other between kisses.

“Be safe,” Deet says.

Preta stretches her arms above her head. “I will,” and she heads to the public privies.

Reaching for a privy door, Agna appears behind Preta. “How are you feeling today, Preta?”

“
Agna Roe
?” Preta says, looking at the old woman, trying to remember the last time she saw her.

Agna gives Preta kind eyes. “You seem much better today. It’s good to see.”

“So I guess you heard about the boy, too,” Preta says looking down at her boots. “Seems like everyone knows.”

“It’s hard to keep something like that a secret. But I was in the field with your brothers when the light struck you. They didn’t tell you?”

Preta’s eyes narrow, unsure of what to think. “You were there that night? No, they didn’t mention it. You know what, they haven’t told me much about that night.”

“Well, I was there, I promise you, and I saw a light shoot out of the forest. You didn’t ask your brothers about any of it?”

Preta tries to smile, and then she sighs. “Honestly, I just want to forget the whole thing ever happened.”

“I understand how you feel, my dear, though it’s important you don’t forget for your own sake. Do you notice anything different with your body? Anything strange?”

Images of the light and a horse talking to her flash through her mind. Preta’s body sways, remembering what it felt like as the energy pulsated in her chest.
Oh no, nothing strange, just a talking horse is all, you know, the normal thing that happens to any sane thirteen-year-old girl
. She glances away. “What kind of strange things are you referring too?”

“Nothing to be alarmed about, my dear. It’s just, I heard stories, tales really, about a light entering a person and they change. And soon after, they’re able to do things many find hard to believe.”

Oh like talking to a horse? Nothing to be alarmed about, Preta, it either really happened or I’m going crazy.
“So how do these people change?” Preta says, focusing on Agna’s lips, hanging on every word.

“It’s no coincidence the boy was murdered and then the light hit you. Best be cautious of strangers, Preta Penter. Keep your loved ones close. Remember, if strange things happen inside your mind and body and you’re unsure, be brave, and keep an open mind.”

Preta scrapes her boot on the ground as she builds up the nerve to tell her about Redly. “I think a horse might have talked to me.”

Intrigued, Agna tilts her head to the side. “
Really
? What happened? Tell me?”

Preta goes on telling her about Redly, the connection, the pulsating energy, and Mr. Felsten seeing her.

“How did he react when he saw you?”

“He was scared and didn’t want me anywhere near him. Though it could’ve been he was just in a hurry to get to Bielston.”

“Bielston, you say?” Agna’s eyes narrow.

“Yes, he was taking a load of goods to the capital.”

“Be very careful, my dear. People don’t act kindly to tales like yours, and big mouths may bring big danger.”

“But it only happened once. When I tried it again, nothing happened.”

Agna forces a smile, and she gives Preta a shallow nod. “If you did it once, you can probably do it again. And if the wrong person sees…” She lowers her head and sighs. “Please be careful and keep your family close. If you ever need help, anything at all, you know where to find me, right?”

“Yeah, I think I remember, Agna. Thanks again; I will.”