Falling Skyward

Chapter Thirty-Nine: Haunting Memories

Lana sighed, her body aching. She was amazed at how soft she had become in just a matter of days. After less than a week at the village, she'd already lost the calluses and hardened muscle that allowed her to ride a full day in the saddle without excruciating pain.

Lana fidgeted, turned, readjusted, then sat up. She fingered the new bandage on her arm, plucking at the edges as she tried to dream up ways she could fall asleep.

"You're just going to fray the bandages again doing that," Taren said, startling Lana. She had waited to hear Taren's steady, deep breathing before getting up. The last few nights Lana hadn't been able to get much sleep—not because of the soreness. That only worked to overwhelm her with crushing exhaustion. No, every time Lana closed her eyes, she thought of the darkness that had filled her mind that last night in the village. She thought of what she heard, what she saw, and a thousand questions filled her mind, leaving only shivers in response.

Lana folded her hands in her lap, picking at her nails even while she looked away, up into the cuttingly clear night sky.

"So, why is it I've had to replace your bandages so often," Taren asked, smiling. Lana only shrugged, remaining taciturn. Taren's jaw set, the lightheartedness in his eyes falling.

"More importantly, why haven't you been able to sleep the last two nights?" Lana lowered her eyes, staring at Taren. Apparently, her charade had been fooling no one. She opened her mouth to speak, then froze.

"Is it the shadoweaters?" Taren asked. Lana wished it had been as simple as that.

"Listen, Lana, it may be hard for you to believe, but I know more about this than you might think. I know something of what nightstalkers can do—the pain they can cause."

"But you lied!" Lana screamed, the force of everything too much. "You told me they couldn't control your mind. You told me their way of communicating was good."

"Lana, what you told me happened that night, when you said you could feel the nightstalker's thoughts in your head . . . I don't know how that happened. All I know is that when I spoke in Ce'al to you for the first time, you listened and saw and felt. I'm clumsy at best with my speaking, but you could hear and connect in a way I have never seen before," he shook his head. "Somehow, you can see. And somehow that nightstalker knew it."

Lana shuddered. "Do you mean no one else has heard them inside their head like that?" Lana's voice was small, vulnerable. Taren arose from his sleeping mat, kneeling by Lana so he could put his arm around her.

"No, plenty of people have received nightmares from the nightstalkers. I don't know why, but certain people—children especially—are especially susceptible or targeted. Many have even been driven mad. That's why I've spent so much of my time trying to stop that, to protect people. But the level and intensity you described—seeing another creature's inner-most mind so fully, so unreservedly . . . I can't explain what happened. All I know is, I think there is a reason you keep running into these creatures. I think there might be a reason they came to your home in the first place. There is something extraordinary about you."

Lana closed her eyes, trying to mediate the pain that exploded within her. A confirmation whispered to her what she feared all along: she had been the cause of the attack—the reason her family was in danger or dead.

Lana cast for a new topic to distract her. "Why did it scream? How do some of the nightstalkers have mouths while others don't?" Lana asked, thinking of the bloody, pointed teeth.

Taren shifted, moving nearer to Lana. "Not all shadoweaters are the same. Some are more militant. All are born without a mouth, but some—some use a form of magic beyond Ce'al. Some reach into darker, more ancient magic. I've heard there's a certain ritual, a sacrifice they can make to redeem their ability to speak, but I do not care to share details. Those who perform the ritual are what we call nightstalkers."