Page 12 of Terragnata and the Heir of the Earth

I screamed and screamed until my voice went raw, my body thrashing against hands that kept me pinned to the dirt. If tears or prayers or pleas left me, I don’t remember them. Eventually, my whole body went limp, and darkness claimed me once more. I drifted away, praying I wouldn’t wake up this time.

I wokeon a warm feathered cot with a pounding in my head. I squinted through my eyelids, light peeking through a small window to my left. I felt I’d dreamt a thousand dreams but could remember none.

Unease pressed itself upon my lungs as if I’d forgotten something important.

The memories followed.

Matron. Stranger. Mav. Running. Hiding. Mama. Gone.

I squeezed my eyes shut, water dripping from their corners. How many more sleeps would I have to endure, waking up to a world where my family no longer existed?

I lay there, sinking into an internal pit of darkness, content to do so indefinitely. But the urge to relieve myself eventually won. I pulled off the covers and found myself in a woman’s dressing gown, free of the dirt and grime that had previously decorated every inch of my flesh. My hand flew to my throat—the familiar feeling of a small pendant resting on my clavicle sent a wave of comfort through me. I touched my hair. It was clean, too—someone had made an effort to de-mangle it. Someone who bathed me… while I was unconscious.

I sat up too fast, dark spots peppering my gaze. I steadied myself on the bed frame and swung my feet to the ground. It felt good to be clean after what I’d been through. But even that pleasant thought sent a staggering ache through my body, for how could I afford even the smallest happiness when my family was dead?

I made use of a chamber pot positioned in the corner. Someone had left a tray on a small table next to the bed, a cup of water, and a large, buttered piece of bread. Though Ihad resolved never to eat again, my body betrayed my will. My mouth watered when I sank my teeth into it.

My caretakers had also been kind enough to leave me a change of clothes: simple trousers, boots, and a loose-fitting linen shirt. The small gesture was comforting, but another wave of grief washed over me when I realized it meant my father’s military wear was likely gone. What would I have left of him? Of my family?

I sat again on the bed, working up the courage to open the door, wondering what awaited me outside. Wondering whether or not Jana spoke true when she said all would be explained. So far, her promise to treat me well seemed kept.

I loosed a breath, padding over to the door. I peeked into the hall. Just Leiya sat there, cross-legged on a stool, sharpening her knife—surprisingly nimble for such a tall woman. She had cropped fire-red hair and a warm face peppered with freckles and faint smile lines. She possessed the same pointed ears I’d noticed on Ezren. She looked formidable, and I had the distinct impression she’d seen the days of battle.

“Finally, the princess hath awoken,” she said mockingly, without looking up from the blade. “Have a nice sleep, did ye?”

“How long was I out for?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.

“Oh, only about three days,” she replied.

I shifted on my feet. “So, didyoubathe me?” My eyes narrowed.

That made her look up, “Nay, Ezren ensisted he do et. He es the best wi’ hair, anyway.” My expression must have been a mix of intense terror and confusion, because Leiya burst out laughing. The terror faded from my face, but such horror remained that she said, “Oh come on now, jest a wee joke.” She rolled her eyes. “If yer done pissin yer pants over a wash, do ye thenk yer up fer a walk?”

Leiya ledme out of what turned out to be a small inn with a few bedrooms and a cozy tavern on the first floor. Jana had let me rest in the homey dwelling to recover from the cleansing, but requested I be brought to her camp several miles away right after waking—or so Leiya said. The moment we stepped outside, it was like walking head-first into a stone wall. Instinct stopped me in my tracks. The wall that I had ‘run’ into was made of an overwhelming surge of light, sound, smells. I bounced back, nearly falling on my hind.

She caught me by the arm and said, “Slow down lass, yer senses are gonna have a right time catchen up. Ye walk steady now an’ breathe deep. Big enhale an’ exhale. That’s et. Take et slow an’ leave yer hand on me arm.”

The inn stood lonesome on a tree-lined coach path, and other than that, there was very little to help me identify our location. And even if more clues presented themselves, I’m sure I wouldn’t have seen them. I was too busy taking in a new spectrum of color—a field of light that shone more vibrant, more varied than I’d seen before. Sounds blended together like notes in a song, making them less discernible. Odors, putrid and delightfully fragrant, mixed together, making my nose wrinkle.

The tree to my left bowed, and nausea bubbled in my stomach. “Leiya, I’m hallucinating,” I choked out, my eyes darting around.

“Et’s called settlen,” Leiya explained. “Yer gonna feel right off for a few days, as es with any cleansen, but the settlen es quick enough. Ye got more magic than most, so et could take a bet longer. An’ I’ve heard ets a bet harder for Wetches than Fae. But settle ye will all the same.”

Magic. That word again. And Witches? Did I hear her right through her thick brogue? Her explanation made little sense to me, but my body was still too absorbed with grappling its staggering transformation for me to voice my confusion. I took enough away from her comments that I knew the sensory overload was not permanent.

“See ef ye can feel the life around us, the forest,” she probed. “Maybe et well help.”

Her words held no meaning, but a deeper voice urged me to listen. I slowed my breath, and gave myself over to my senses, my legs continuing to move where Leiya led me. And then there it was—a buzzing jolt that flowed through me.

“What do ye feel?” Leiya asked.

“I-I’m not sure how to describe it. It feels… like the fabric of life.”

I had always been in tune with the forest. My whole life it sang a song to me that I felt like lifeblood. But now, it was different. I knew, somehow, I could sing back. And it would listen. It would bend and obey. And it wouldn’treallybe bending or obeying, because it was a part of me. The lungs don’t obey because the mind consciously commands it. They move with the body’s intention. And that’s how it felt. Like the heartbeat of the forest was my own.

It took us almost an hour to reach the camp, and the walk was tedious. I felt like I’d been put into someone else’s body, which made doing anything, even walking, foreign and clumsy.

Eventually, we came upon a large camp of tents with people buzzing about. It looked how I imagined a war camp would, but far less dire and without the stink of death in the air. Many sat outside their canvas shelters on beautiful woven rugs, drinking from shining goblets, smoking from long pipes, and playing cards. “Who are these people?” I muttered, the words forming under my breath.

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