Page 9 of Where Darkness Dwells

Orlagh purses her lips. “The Hunt brings out the worst in everyone, I’m afraid.”

I nod faintly, waiting a few moments for my heart to slow and the heat to dissipate from my face. Never mind them. Turning back to her, I ask, “What happened to my mother?” as if there hasn’t been any interruption. I have no time for delicacy. I need to know.Now.

My wise friend considers me curiously, taking a long moment to think. She squeezes her wrinkled eyelids shut as if the memory pains her. A flare of regret plagues me for putting her through this, but it can’t be helped.

“Oh, child.” Orlagh’s eyes mist over after she opens them, and I cover her soft hand with both of mine. “There was something special about yer mother that most couldn’t put a finger on. Some thought it was just her manner, but I knew it was somethin’ more.”

“Like what?”

She opens her mouth to speak a couple times but struggles with words. As she cocks her head to one side, the furrows in her brow plunge to new depths. “I don’ rightly know myself. It was like ... like the ténesomni had no effect on her. Like it ... left her alone. Gave her space.”

Recognition flickers in my mind. Did I experience the same thing on the way to the city? Back at the homestead? It’s hard to say. Father has always made me carry light wherever I go, but it isn’t all that strange. Very few people ever venture anywhere without it. But after arriving in Utsanek easily, without a shred of illumination, I know better. The shadows had not been nearly as debilitating as they were supposed to be. They let me be.

“I’ve often wondered if that was what did it.” Orlagh is oblivious to my tangled thoughts. “The Shrouded are not exactly known for their patience. And if word of a darkness-repelling maiden reached them ...” She shudders. “Well, it wasn’t long before they sighted a sola to the north of the Vale, much like today. Yer mother couldn’t let another one of those dazzling creatures be taken because of superstition. She set out to head off the hunting party before they could reach it.”

Tiny bumps prickle down my arms. The scene plays before my mind’s eye, as if I am witnessing it firsthand. My breath lodges in my throat until my lungs burn for air. I need Orlagh to finish, but the woman is awash in tears. Inhaling sharply, I slip to the merchant side of the booth and put my arms around her. It’s a while before the baker composes herself.

“Dear, sweet Ellehra,” she chokes out. “Yer father found her broken body, thrown to the ground, not a sola in sight. No matter how they searched, they caught no glimpse of the beast that did it.”

A knife-like pain pierces somewhere around the center of my being, and my face goes numb. The voices of the multitude mesh into a single, deafening roar in my ears. When I lick my lips, a briny taste fills my mouth.

“And yer father. Yer poor father.” Orlagh sobs. “He took it badly. He swore the solas had been the ones that took her from him.”

The absurdity of his conclusion pushes through my fog. “But ... that can’t be. Why would they kill her?” The evil word scars my throat.

Orlagh holds a handkerchief to her face and shakes her head too fast. “No, child. It doesn’t make sense, does it? Nay, what I have always believed is that the kaligorven murdered your mother because they were threatened by what she had. What I believe ye possess as well.”

“What’s that?” I breathe, although I already feel the answer rising within me, clawing to be let loose.

She frees herself from my grip and pulls my face close, so that we share air.

“Light.”

An unnatural silence descends upon the crowd, as if a single word from an old baker holds the power to freeze time. I spin around, eyes wide.

Can they sense the threat? Do they know what I am?

But Orlagh’s whispers aren’t what stole the people’s attention. The long and grievous tone of a single hunting horn holds them in its grip.

Orlagh gasps and tugs her shawl around her with a shiver. We stand together, shoulders pressed, transfixed along with the rest of Utsanek. Waiting.

The horn blasts again. This time, it is met with cries of relief. The square bursts into celebration, but my heart fills with a sadness I can’t explain. The hunters are returning, victorious.

5. Belwyn

BELWYN

IDEPOSIT FLIP IN THE RELATIVE SAFETY of a deserted alleyway that branches off from the square. He’s too sloshed to perceive much of what is going on, and I decide it’s best to leave him somewhere out of the way while he has a chance to sober up.

Anyway, there are other things on my mind.

Like the girl I just met. Even in her indignation, she was striking. She hadn’t spent hours plaiting her hair into intricate designs or painting around her eyes with reflective ink. There is something about them I can’t quite figure out. They were pale and . . . piercing. How her cheeks flushed when I helped her up and how she yanked her hand from mine showed both her innocence and her spirit.

I tear into the loaf of cheesy bread and plunge once more into the heart of the throbbing mob to join in my friends’games. And with any luck, I’ll find the girl again too.

I’ve only just spotted the group when the first horn sounds. A sigh wheezes out of me. Nothing about this day is going as I imagined.

The throng surges at the second bugle blast, catching me up in the jubilant deluge that flows to the outskirts of the city. It is not so frenzied out here. The darkness deepens away from the torches and gleaming sola brossa of the streets, and many people carry lanterns that glow with the reddish tints of fire. The excitement of the valefolk crackles in the air, infecting me despite my grumblings, and I quickly become as jovial as the rest of them. We are, after all, about to see a sola.

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