Chapter 47: Nightmare
The fourth day, Violet went again to the forbidden zone. This time she brought no wine. The wine was finished. Astrid said there was more in the cellar, but it would take two more days to dig out. She brought a sack of flour, a jar of honey, and a small packet of dried meat.
Greta stood at the valley entrance. Not waiting for her. Hanging laundry. A rope strung between two wooden stakes. Several gray-black robes hung from it. The wind puffed them up, billowing like bodiless people drifting. She saw Violet and shook out the piece in her hands, draping it over the rope.
"Where's the wine?"
"Finished. More in two days."
"No wine, no stories."
"Brought flour. I'll make you noodles. Sweet noodles."
Greta glanced at her and said nothing more. Turned and walked into the house. The door she left open.
Violet followed. Mixed flour. Kneaded dough. Cut noodles. Dropped them into the pot. Her movements were faster than yesterday. The dough was softer too. Greta sat to the side watching. Made no criticisms. The noodles finished cooking. Divided into two bowls. Greta took hers. Ate one bite. Chewed twice. Swallowed.
"You said yesterday—your son left." Violet said.
Greta's chopsticks paused. She didn't raise her head. Kept eating noodles.
"Left. Seven years now."
"Where did he go?"
"Don't know. Never said. The night he left, we fought. Fought badly." Greta set down her chopsticks. "He said, 'Why didn't you go with him.' I said, 'Go where.' He said, 'When he left, why didn't you chase after him.' I said, 'I didn't know which way he went.' He said, 'You knew. You just didn't want to chase.'"
Violet said nothing.
"He was right. I knew which way he went. He went north. Toward the coldest place." Greta's voice lowered. "But I didn't chase. Not because I didn't want to. Because I couldn't."
"Why?"
"Because if I caught up, it would have been two people dead."
Violet's fingers tightened for an instant.
"Do you know how Aldric died?" Greta looked at her. In those deep brown eyes there were no tears. Only something very heavy. Pressed down for too long. "Not sickness. Not old age. He was killed."
Violet said nothing.
"We lived in this valley for years. I thought we were safe. But I forgot. Eagle Clan people can fly. They don't need to walk. They can see us from the sky." Greta's hand pressed against the table. Knuckles white. "It was the bald one. The shaman's son. The one from the Argentine Giant Eagle Clan. He found us."
"He found you?"
"He found Aldric first. That day Aldric went out hunting. Ran into him in the woods north of the valley. The bald one brought a group. Not Eagle Clan. Mountain bandits. He hired them."
Something connected in Violet's mind. Mountain bandits. The blacksmith's blades. Ironwood markings. The blades in her coat.
"The bald one said, 'Hand over Greta. You walk away. I won't kill you.'" Greta's voice began to shake. "Aldric said one sentence. He said, 'She's not here. Look for her yourself.'"
"Then what?"
"Then the bald one believed him." The corner of Greta's mouth curved. Not a smile. Something uglier than crying. "A man of the Argentine Giant Eagle Clan. Tricked by a Rabbit Clan. He took his men north. Chasing. Aldric ran north. He let them see him on purpose. Let them chase him on purpose. He ran all night. Ran onto the ice plains. He couldn't run anymore."
Violet's eyes grew wet.
"The bandits caught up. He had no blade. Couldn't fight. All he had was a walking stick." Greta's voice had gone flat. Flat as wind across ice. "They beat him for a long time. When they finished, they left him on the ice. He froze to death. Or was beaten to death. I don't know."
The fire in the stove had gone out. The soup in the pot had gone cold. No one added firewood.
"How did you find out?" Violet asked.
"I searched for him for three months. Walked the entire North. Finally got it out of one of the bandits. The men the bald one hired had loose mouths. Beat them once and they tell everything."
"Did you kill them?"
"I killed them. Not one left." Greta's voice was flat. As if saying how many weeds she had pulled from the vegetable plot today. "But the bald one ran. He flew away. I couldn't catch him."
Violet was silent.
"What happened after? Alone, how did you survive?"
Greta lowered her head and looked at her own hands. Those hands. Knuckles thick. Dirt under the nails.
"After? After I came back to this valley. Before Aldric left, he got me drunk."
"Drunk?"
"He drugged my wine. I drank one bowl and knew nothing. When I woke, he was already gone. Left a note on the table. It said, 'Wait for me. Don't come looking.'" Greta's voice began to tremble. "I waited three months. He didn't come. I went out looking. When I found him, I only found his boot. On the ice plains. Half buried in snow."
Violet didn't press.
"I took that boot and walked to the cliff's edge." Greta's voice was soft as wind. "The wind was strong. I thought—jump and it's over. I stood there a long time. Then I threw up."
"Threw up?"
"Threw up. Only after throwing up did I know I was pregnant." The corner of Greta's mouth curved. Not a smile. That expression that says, you can't do anything about him. "He calculated it. He knew I would want to go with him. So he left something behind. So I couldn't go."
"He calculated it?"
"He calculated it. That boot. He left it on purpose. He knew I would go looking. He knew I would find it. He knew I would stand at the cliff's edge. He calculated everything." Greta's tears fell. "He was only clever that one time in his whole life. And he used it on himself."
Violet held Greta's hand.
"What happened after?"
"After, I carried the one in my belly and went west. Walked very far. Walked to the Ten Thousand Mountains. The place by the sea. There's a city of witches there. Witches have high status in the beast world. They don't hide underground. They live in cities. Have servants. Have people providing for them. I went to beg them. Kneeled at the city gate. Kneeled three days and three nights."
"Did they help you?"
"An old witch came out. She took one look at me and said, 'You have a child in your belly.' I said, 'I know.' She said, 'What do you want me to help you with.' I said, 'Help me take revenge.'" Greta's voice suddenly changed. Turned hard. Like a blade. "She said, 'Revenge is your own matter. I can teach you some things. But you take the revenge yourself.' I said, 'Why.' She said, 'Not that I won't help you. Some things must be done with your own hands before you can set them down.'"
Violet looked at Greta. This old woman. Hair completely white. Knuckles thick. Dirt under her nails. She had taken revenge with her own hands. An Eagle Clan princess who couldn't fight. Learned magic. Took down an entire bandit den alone.
"What did she teach you?"
"Taught me a little magic. Not much. Enough. Enough for revenge. Enough for divination. Enough to write this letter."
Greta turned Violet's hand over. Drew a symbol on the back of her hand with her finger. Violet felt as if her skin had been seared. Not hot. Cold. A deep cold seeping out from the bones. She looked down. A pattern had appeared on the back of her hand. Dark red. Like a design formed from threads of dried blood. Not drawn on. Grown in.
"What is this?" Violet's voice was a little unsteady.
"A letter. The letter I wrote to Ald. Turned into a rune. When you meet him, it will glow on its own. He sees it, he'll know I sent you."
Violet stared at the rune on the back of her hand. It sat beneath the skin. Pulsing faintly with her heartbeat. Steady rhythm. This was the first time she had seen magic. Not read in a book. Not heard from someone's words. Real. On the back of her hand. Beneath her skin. Glowing with her heartbeat.
"Did Ald know all this?" She asked.
"He knew. I told him. After he heard, he didn't say a single word. Went back to his room and packed his things. Stood in the doorway with a pack on his back." Greta's voice began to tremble. "He said, 'I'm going to find his body.' I said, 'You won't find it.' He said, 'I'll find it.' I said, 'Even if you find it, what then.' He said, 'Bring him back. Bury him somewhere you can see every day.'"
Violet looked at the stove. Built of stone. Blackened by smoke.
"What's really buried under the stove?" She asked.
Greta didn't answer. She turned around. Her back to Violet. Looking at the pot of cold soup on the stove.
"It's what you think. It's not what you think. What's the difference? He's here with me. That's enough."
Violet didn't press.
"He left. Seven years. Hasn't come back. I don't know if he's dead or alive. Every night I light the fire. The stove is warm. He warmed his father for seventeen years. Where he is now, I don't know."
Violet tightened her grip on Greta's hand.
"After the beast tide, I'll go north. To find Ald."
"You might not find him."
"I'll find him."
"How do you know?"
"Because you've waited seven years for him. He won't die. He still has to come back and fight with you."
The corner of Greta's mouth moved. Not a smile. Something fainter than a smile.
"Go. If you don't go now, it'll be dark."
Violet stood. Collected the bowls. Washed them. Set them back on the stove.
"Greta."
"Yes."
"What did you write in that letter?"
"I wrote, 'Mother doesn't blame you. Come home.'"
Violet turned and left.
By the time she walked out of the valley, the sun had swung west. Gray Ear followed her out and walked at her heels. His tail didn't wag.
She mounted her horse. On the ride back to Water City, she spread her left hand open. Looked at the rune on the back of her hand. In the sunset light, it was invisible. But she knew it was there. Beneath the skin. Beside the blood vessels. Like a small brand.
She thought of what Greta had said. Some things must be done with your own hands before you can set them down.
She thought of herself. What couldn't she set down? She didn't know.
By the time she returned to Water City, the sky was nearly dark. Leon was on the city wall. She didn't go up. Went straight back to her small house.
Moon Silver was awake. It tumbled about in its nest, kicking dried grass everywhere. When it saw Violet come in, it stopped. Tilted its head and looked at her. Deep blue eyes. Like the sky at winter dusk.
She scooped it up and held it in her palm.
"Moon Silver."
It blinked.
She stretched her left hand before it. Moon Silver looked down at the rune on the back of her hand. Tilted its head. Stuck out its tongue and licked it. Cool.
Violet pulled her hand back. The rune was still there.
She placed it back in its nest. Blew out the lamp.
In the darkness, Moon Silver's fur glowed in the moonlight. Silver-gray. The rune on the back of her hand pulsed faintly with her heartbeat. Steady rhythm. The same rhythm as her heart.
She closed her eyes.
The dream came. Not the blurry figure.
Thornveil Gorge. The dry riverbed. The red sky. Two suns. A Thorn Wolf lunging. Not at her. At someone else. Leon. His right arm was bleeding. His left arm ruined. Kneeling on one knee. The wolf's jaws clamped onto his left forearm. The sound of bone breaking. She heard it.
She stood behind the rock. The dried thornvine in her hand.
She wanted to charge out. Her feet wouldn't move.
The wolf bore him to the ground. His long blade fell into the dirt. The hilt was soaked in blood. The wolf's mouth opened. Toward his throat.
She wrenched her eyes open.
Her heart pounded fast. Her palms were drenched in sweat. Moon Silver had been startled awake by her movement. It cried once from its nest. Very small. Like wind through a crack.
She scooped it up and pressed it to her chest. It was very warm. Her heartbeat slowly steadied.
Not real. Leon was alive. He stood on the city wall. He was there every day.
She lay back down. Closed her eyes. But didn't dare sleep again.
Outside the window, the moonlight streamed in. The rune on the back of her hand was still pulsing.
---
End of Chapter Forty-Seven
"Not that I won't help you. Some things must be done with your own hands before you can set them down." Greta took her revenge with her own hands. The rune on the back of Violet's hand is a letter. And a shackle. She closed her eyes. What she dreamed of was not that blurry figure. It was Thornveil Gorge. Leon. The wolf biting down on his arm. The sound of bone breaking. She gripped the thornvine. Her feet wouldn't move. She woke. Moon Silver was crying. Her heart pounded fast. Not real. But what if it were real? She didn't dare think.