Page 14 of Aofie's Quest
Chapter Twelve
Romulus smirkedwhen I told him, stopping short of rolling his gray eyes. “I understand what you mean to do—absolve yourself of guilt from leaving the villagers to their fate and empower them. If only they weren’t superstitious, your plan might work, but by the time they enact it, we will be too far away to know what happens.”
“You don’t believe it will work?”
He snorted. “Oh. I believe it will work. I simply have little faith in humanity. They are prone to listening without actually hearing and often speak empty words, for there are no actions behind them. I am loath to wait for you because I don’t want to be seen like this. I’ll meet you at the outer edge of the village where the tall grasses wave. Just follow the road, or ask the children. They’ll lead you straight and true.”
I nodded, my heart quaking in my throat as I thought of what I had to do. Steeling myself, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, murmuring a prayer to the gods for strength.
Romulus spun on his heel and darted into the gloomy hall, leaving the scent of sandalwood and soap behind. I breathed in and then bit my lip as my face turned warm, and shut down the thought that I looked forward to traveling with the mysterious ranger. He disappeared down the stairs as swiftly as a gust of wind and I followed, hoping I was making the right decision.
His reluctance to assist disappointed me, for I wanted to leave the villagers with hope for their situation. Downstairs was eerily quiet, the tables and chairs perfectly placed, waiting for the next rush of customers. I strode around them, moving toward the front of the room, where a fire blazed—the place where Marie had dished up food the evening before. The scent of something delightful baking made my mouth water and my stomach growled in anticipation. Pushing thoughts of food away, and feeling like an intruder, I cleared my throat. “Hello?” I called in a loud whisper. I coughed and called again. “Hello?”
Drumming my fingers on the counter, I waited. Armis said they’d eat at first light, and a window showed the faint glimmer of sunrise. I spied pink streaks glowing like a smile from the gods, a shadow of the heavenly glories above the land of Labraid. “Hello?” I raised my voice. “Armis?”
A scuffling sound came from behind the counter, and then Marie bustled into view. Her arms were bare and covered in white all the way up to her elbows. It looked like some kind of wheat the centaurs pounded into dust. Flour, that’s what was used to make bread, which must be what I was smelling. Marie was stocky, like Armis, with rosy cheeks and thick arms. Her face was flushed red and she pressed her lips together when she saw me.
“What is it?” she asked, her tone low and husky. “Armis isn’t up yet, nor is the food ready.”
I sucked my tongue and then plunged ahead. “Last night the villagers asked me to help save them from the witch woman, and I have an idea, a plan. I came down to ask—er—Armis to gather everyone so I can make an announcement.”
Marie stared at me, her expression unfaltering. It was uncanny to stand there and have her examine me with no clue what she was thinking behind those dark eyes. Finally, she turned around, holding her floured arms up, and bellowed, “Armis! Get up!” Her voice was like the roar of the wind in a storm. “This girl you brought here has something to tell you!”
Everything fell into place after Marie shouted. Armis came out, yawning and rubbing his eyes. I repeated what I’d told Marie and he woke right up. He threw open the door and charged down the street while Marie disappeared into her hidden kitchen. I waited alone as the scent of fresh-cooked bread wafted through the air. My mouth watered, and I swallowed down saliva. Before my belly could growl, a sound rang out with a ding and then a dong, as if someone were striking a great metal object. It was similar and yet different from the horns the centaurs blew when hunting. I guessed it was to summon the villagers to the inn.
“Eat.” Marie’s command made me jump. She slid a plate across the counter filled with a roll of bread, a slab of pink fish, and an egg. I glanced from her to the plate in astonishment at her generosity, but she only pointed at it again and jerked her chin at me.
“Thank you.” My tongue tripped over the words as I picked up the plate. I’d heard that kindness was rare in the kingdom of men, but the villagers were an exception. It would not be right or fair to leave them in the hands of the witch woman.
As I ate, the villagers gathered, rubbing the sleep from their eyes as they stumbled into the inn. Some sat but most of them stood, arms crossed, waiting expectantly. The golden sun was almost fully up by the time the door swung shut for the last time, and bodies packed the room. I washed down my breakfast with a cup of warm milk, regretting it the moment it hit my belly. I was full and nervous, ready to reveal my plan to the villagers.
Standing in front of them, I climbed on top of a chair once more, and this time, instead of staring at my feet, I kept my head high and looked at their faces. For a split second I wished I’d taken the easy route out and gone with Romulus before daylight broke. But I was no coward and I would not dishonor my royal name. If I were to retake the kingdom of men, I had to stop thinking about my personal concerns and focus on what was best for the people. Perhaps my words would inspire them to take action.
“People of the Vale,” I began, holding out my hands like a goddess about to bless them. “I am new to your village but I heard of your troubles yesterday.”
Voices whispered in low tones and fingers pointed at me, confirming I was the one who had escaped from Jezebel.
“Last night you asked me to fight her, to kill her, but that is not my purpose. I am not strong enough, yet, to walk into her domain and take her down. I understand you believe I have magic, but you have something greater. You have the will to live. The witch woman demands sacrifices from you, blood sacrifices, and there is not one of you who hasn’t lost someone dear, someone precious because of her demands. But I also know it is impossible for her to come down to the Vale to take your loved ones from you. Is this correct? Do you not send a sacrifice up to her lair?”
Nods and more mumbling met my ears.
“I have a plan to liberate you. No more shall you willingly give yourselves over to the witch woman. From this day forth, instead of sending your loved ones to her, go to the place where you make the sacrifice and build an altar. When she demands blood, take an animal and leave it as a goodwill offering. This will show her your willingness to obey her wishes and give her blood in exchange for her blessing. But you will no longer sacrifice your mother, father, sister, brother, son, or daughter. What say you?”
There was silence. Stunned faces with slack jaws stared at me, as though I’d disappeared in front of their eyes.
My face fell and I bit the inside of my cheek. Romulus was right; it was a stupid plan. The people were superstitious and if they didn’t give their blood, the village would die. I opened my mouth to retract my words.
Chapter Thirteen
A tiny sound,the hush of a breath or a tongue moving against the roof of a mouth, broke the silence in the inn. The sound was slight at first and then it grew, like a river increasing its speed, rushing to dive joyfully over the edge into a rainbow-colored waterfall. A mix of sobs and cheers filled the air, and I almost fell off the chair in surprise. The villagers hugged each other, and someone pulled out a pipe and struck up a ditty. Now it was my turn to stare, slack jawed, as they celebrated like I had given them the head of Jezebel on a pike.
I slipped from the chair and crept to the door, determining it would be smart to sneak away before they detained me. My faith in humankind wavered as I opened the door. How could they be so stupid? How could they not see? I didn’t think my suggestion was special and it was difficult to believe they hadn’t thought about it themselves. Puzzling over what had just happened, but relieved to continue on my quest, I hurried down the road, eager to catch up with Romulus.
A dirt road ran through the village, still hard from what I assumed was winter’s frost. The sun warmed the air, but there was still a hint of chill in it, and I’d forgotten to unpack my cloak and put it on. I glanced over my shoulder to catch sight of the woods. Aside from the rise of a hill and a scattering of trees, I saw nothing of Jezebel’s lair, the Vale of Monsters, or where the Beluar Woods ended. Brushing tears from my eyes, I turned my back on the past and carried on. That chapter of my life had ended, in the most unlikely way, and I determined to allow myself to miss them but focus on my future. It was what the centaurs wanted for me, and what Epona, in her wisdom, wanted. I’d escaped my first trial and I was on my way to the river, and hopefully, to meet my mother.
Homes rose on either side of me, little square shacks made out of wood, but none looked as well-made as the inn. I passed strange structures—what looked like a house and yet not a house, for animals walked inside and Epona had told me humans did not live with dumb animals. A circular structure seemed to appear again and again, moss-covered stones in a ring. One had a wooden bucket, full of water, sitting beside it.
Brown and white goats, bound by low wooden fences, chewed what little grass remained. Chickens strutted around huts, pecking at the ground and squawking at me when I walked too close to their territory. Some homes had donkeys tied outside them, and one had a horse with only patches of hair. It was the first village I’d been to, but what I’d seen led me to believe it was a poor one. I thought of Turek and how skinny he was, although his uncle, Armis, and Marie seemed well-fed.
