Page 2 of Red

Only human arrogance would think nothing of generations suffering to battle the encroaching grip of the wilderness in an inhospitable world. The unseen Ragoru were not the only threat. Giant carnivorous plants were everywhere, as were vicious beasts that prowled in the shadows, bearing no resemblance to anything recognizable from the animals illustrated in surviving old-world books. Then there were the mutated and brutal feral men and women that lived far from civilization and happily cannibalized any person who fell across their path. These were the dangers that lay between Sanctuary and the Citadel. Any further questions on the subject were met with silence as her mother had pinched her lips shut and refused to say anything more.

She refused to even speak of what had killed Arie’s father, though it was well known that many people had died in that first year from the wildlife and the dangers of working in the mines. All Arie really knew was that her mother lived the rest of her life heartbroken, with only a small child for company. Arie never understood why her mother hadn’t returned immediately to the Citadel before their money dried up. There had been nothing in Sanctuary for her mother but bad memories as she grieved for the husband who had widowed her at such a young age. But perhaps she had never actually intended to leave, but had merely waited for Arie to become old enough to travel on her own. She had certainly made no effort to contact her own mother even when their money dried up, though Arie was certain that her grandmother must have had plenty of money to fund their trip.

Instead, they scrimped and saved every coin they could manage with talk of a future in the Citadel. A future her mother would never see.

If it was as if Elizabet had planned it all that way so she could remain and tend to her husband’s grave, keeping it clear of weeds, and sit with him during the bi-annual feasts of the dead until the day she would join him. Now she lay by his side but there would be no one to tend their graves, not when she had extracted a promise from Arie to leave when she was sent for.

“I feel guilty for leaving,” Arie whispered, her breathing fogging in the rapid cooling of the evening air. Blinking back tears, she leaned down and gently set the small bouquet of late-season flowers on the grave. “But I know you don’t want me to stay here, not when Jak is trying to collect wives as if he were from the west. He has been sniffing around looking to add me as wife number six. I hate that I won’t be here to put flowers on your grave on your birthday, but it helps knowing that you have daddy now to keep you company in the next world, even if I can’t visit your grave as I would like. With the escort on their way, I will soon be far away from here, but I will carry your memory with me wherever you go. I still have the lock of daddy’s hair and now yours in my locket so that you both will always be close to my heart.”

Arie’s skin crawled at the thought of Jak Terrivos. The sooner she was away from Sanctuary—and him—the better. It wasn’t lost on anyone that he was trying to catch her alone. He had lingered at the gravesite long after most of the others had left until only Mr. Ferily and Old Widow Townsly had remained doggedly at her side. She had been more than a little relieved when he had finally left, but not before she had been forced to persuade him to depart and leave her in peace with her grief with a promise that she would think over his offer.

She only hoped that she would be able to leave Sanctuary before he grew too insistent on having her answer since she had little doubt that he would not take rejection well. Ever since the occasion that he had barged into her house before she had the opportunity to cover her hair, he liked to remind her that he had power over her. The small bribes her mother offered throughout her youth had ceased working the moment he had decided that he wanted her for himself. So far, she’d been successful at dodging his attempts to woo her, but he was becoming more insistent. He would only become worse now that her mother was no longer there to protect her. He had made it abundantly clear that he yielded to Elizabet’s bribes solely out of respect for her saving his leg with her medicinal knowledge after a disastrous hunting trip.

“Still, I would do anything, even marry that odious Jak, if it meant having you back again, Momma,” she whispered. “I love you and I miss you so much. Goodbye, Momma. Give my love to Daddy.” Arie turned away from the grave and began the trek to her home on the outskirts of the walled village.

A cold breeze made her pull her cloak tighter around herself, and she shivered. Autumn was descending with a vengeance. It was truthfully a terrible time to travel north, and would become increasingly so the longer she waited, but she was running out of options and her escort was already on their way. Although the postal carrier moved quicker than an armed escort, she wouldn’t be surprised if they were only days or a week or two at most behind them. Despite the temptation to leave and meet the escort en route before Jak got any bright ideas, she had managed to put him off often enough that she could afford to wait. Traveling through Murk Woods was dangerous enough even in a group, she knew that starting off alone, if she didn’t have to, was plain suicide.

It was better to remain in the warmth of her mother’s cottage—no, it was her cottage now—though it was currently barren of any light or warmth. Shivering, she stepped inside and made her way over to the cold hearth. She’d been gone since sun-up to see to her mother’s burial and service. The priestess of the Holy Mother had been impossible. Arie had to offer the woman a barrel of her last harvest of summer apples, the three jars of honey she’d carefully collected from wild bees, and what little fresh meat she had in order to see her mother properly attended to.

Her mother would have been disgusted to see what she had to barter for such a simple service, but the only other option was that her mother’s body would have been laid to rest in a pit outside of the walled sanctuary. Arie couldn’t bear the idea of her mother’s resting place being one where predators could get to her, rather than beside her husband as Elizabet wished. So, she’d done what needed to be done while praying to her mother’s shade for forgiveness.

Ignoring the gnawing hunger in her belly, since she hadn’t had time to make bread that morning, and it was too late to bother trying to put together a stew from the dried meats and vegetables in the cellar, Arie went inside to build a small fire. It would at least knock the chill off the air a little bit. She had nearly pulled off her hood when a knock sounded at her door.

Arie dropped her hand and went to answer it. The hinges screeched as she pulled the door open, no more cooperative than when she’d arrived. Joshu stood at the other side of the door fidgeting, a covered dish in his hands. She smiled and pulled the door open wider.

“Joshu, would you like to come in?”

His eyes flicked around the room, but he shook his head.

“It wouldn’t be proper, Arie, seeing how you are alone and all.”

“Oh, right. Of course,” Arie mumbled.

Disappointment flooded her. Joshu was reasonably attractive, quiet, and non-threatening. He didn’t set off any sparks, but he was familiar, safe and sweet. He was also, as of yet, unmarried despite the best efforts of many of the mommas in town looking for a husband for their daughter. Most men in the village had two or three wives. To be a first wife or even an only wife was a rarity. If he had offered for her, she would have grabbed ahold of the safety he represented with both hands, even if it was a bit selfish.

“Mama thought you could use a little supper. She apologized that we couldn’t be at the releasing, but I had to help Daddy in the field today, and Mistress Asher had her baby that needed birthing this morning.” He hesitated. “Another girl-babe. Apparently, Mistress Asher was in need of some consoling afterward.”

Arie nodded in sympathy. A child’s birth should be greeted with celebration, but she knew that Margaret Asher had hoped to be the first in the village to birth a son for the mayor. She had wanted to be his wife desperately for years and had believed that would encourage him to marry her. Arie didn’t understand why she would want to be his fourth wife when he already had three due to him being the first in the village to take up with following the traditions from the west, but she genuinely felt for the woman’s disappointment. He would have doubtlessly showered attention on her above the other women of the village since he had no sons as of yet, only one surviving girl child from between his wives in addition to another two girls from other women in the village.

“Such is the way of things, I suppose,” she murmured.

“She was foolish,” Joshu harshly replied, his brow dipping. “She pinned all her hopes on birthing a boy knowing how rare it is. Her carrying on prevented us from paying our respects as we should have, especially considering the long friendship between our families.”

Uncomfortable with the sudden bite in his voice in response to what had to have been a difficult moment, Arie smiled politely in thanks as she gratefully accepted the dish Joshu handed her. Her stomach growled at the aroma of venison and hot potatoes that drifted up from the towel covering it.

“Please, tell your mother that I say thank you, and not to worry. The Mother knows that her heart was with my mama on this day, and that is all I can ask.”

Joshu smiled—his irritation forgotten—and nodded. He surprised her then by reaching forward and touching her shoulder.

“May the light of the Mother of All comfort you in this dark time,” he said solemnly. Arie reached up and squeezed his hand before he jerked it back and blushed. “I will be back tomorrow for the dish. Have a blessed night in all comforts, Arie.”

“You as well, Joshu.”

He touched a finger to his forehead in polite acknowledgment before turning and stepping off the porch. She watched his retreating form grow smaller and sighed. The mist was rolling in quickly this night with its usual thick haze. She hated the mist. It had always frightened her from the time that she was small with how it seemed to swallow everything up. And it was completely unstoppable. Though the high wooden poles that formed the sanctuary walls were nearby protecting the village from predators, nothing stopped the insidious drift of the mist. Still, she watched, unnerved, as Joshu’s retreating silhouette was swallowed up and disappeared.

Arie couldn’t help the shiver that ran through her even as she ignored the ominous screech of a nearby owl. No bad omens tonight. She refused to give them any heed. Instead, she pulled off her hooded cloak and sat down with the plate of food, uncovered it, and ate every bite. She knew she should reserve some for the morning when she would be hungry again, but at that moment, weighed down by grief, she couldn’t summon up the energy to care.

The meal consumed, she read one of her mother’s brittle, aged books until the lamp burned low. Arie rubbed her eyes and set the treasured, time-worn volume on the small table beside her chair. Her mother’s empty chair stood like a bleak sentinel across from her. Picking up the lamp, she banked the low fire and went into her small room.

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