Memory's Wake - Book One of the Memory's Wake Trilogy

Chapter 6

They pushed through a thicket of weeds into a small clearing. A neat garden of herbs, lettuce and pumpkins surrounded the cottage, hidden by the overgrown fields. Apart from the smoke that escaped the chimney, the house looked abandoned. Shutters hung off hinges. Windows were closed up with grayed, splintering planks. Grass and daisies grew from the roof. Memory dreaded going inside, in case the rickety structure fell on her.

Roen stepped forward, a small frown denting his forehead. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, then knocked. “Mother, Father, it’s me.”

A heavy bolt slid behind the door which squealed in protest as it swung open.

“I didn’t expect you home ‘til tomorrow.” A graceful white-haired woman met Roen with a loving smile. The elaborate high-necked gown she wore contrasted starkly with the derelict cottage. Her smile fled the moment she saw Roen had brought guests.

“Who are they?”

“They were in need of help, and I offered it.” Roen stepped aside, tilting his head to the girls.

Isabeth looked them over with her lips pursed. She placed her hand over her heart when she saw Eloryn and it rose up to her mouth when she looked at what Memory wore. Memory hated how different she looked to everyone else. They all wore long flowing gowns and there she was in a t-shirt and torn jeans. She felt even dirtier than before, bloody, bruised, and unsteady on her feet. Eloryn wasn’t much more presentable. She folded her arms into herself, and gave a closed-lipped, nervous smile.

Isabeth turned to the side, talking into the house instead of out toward her son. “Well. Well they are here now. I’ll not be known for denying aid.” She moved in, beckoning them after her.

Inside, only thin shafts of the setting sunlight broke through the blocked windows. Memory stepped in after Roen and Eloryn, seeing only gloom while her eyes adjusted to the darkness.

The door slammed behind them like a crack of thunder, shaking the cottage walls. Memory spun around and stepped backwards, running into Eloryn. Shadows shifted near the closed door and a figure loomed toward them.

“Mem, we shouldn’t have come,” Eloryn whispered over her shoulder. She clung to the back of Memory’s shirt as though she stuck there when they bumped together.

Thanks for the told-you-so but we can’t go anywhere now. Isabeth and Roen stood behind them in the small room. The man blocked the doorway, the dark silhouette of his features starting to clear in Memory’s eyes. He stared down at the girls. Memory tensed. A shiver of terrified nausea crept up her back, and her hand moved itself toward her back pocket.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He strode past them, straight at Roen, anger growling in his voice. He shook Roen by the shoulder with an outstretched arm. His only arm. Memory gasped. His right arm was missing from the elbow down, hidden by a rolled and pinned sleeve. Memory forced her mouth shut, trying to look anywhere but at his missing limb. Her eyes were inevitably drawn back.

Roen spoke calmly and looked the man in the eye. “Father, please, can we talk?”

“Brannon, love, they’re just children,” Isabeth said.

“No, they aren’t. Look at the state of them. They... are trouble.” Brannon kept a grip on Roen as though he would throw him back out of the house. He turned and glared at the girls. Memory cringed.

“We’ll go. Let us go, please?” Eloryn’s clutch on Memory’s shirt tightened and her pitch rose.

“No,” Roen cried, then his volume dropped again. “I mean, please stay, you are welcome here.”