Let the Darkness In

To my left, a small moving shadow bore across the sand. I needed no second warning. Moving quickly, I scrambled down the slope, nearly slipping to my death more than once. After a perilous descent, I was gratified when my feet hit the relative firmness of sand. My heart was thundering in my ears, louder than the howl of the wind.

The figures were growing larger, the blobs turning into powerful horses with experienced riders atop. Tremors from their pounding hooves reverberated into the sand around me. I moved towards the sea. I had seconds before they saw me. Luck guided me to a collection of shells and rocks, and I feigned industry.

I felt them thunder towards me. Timing it so that they were right beside me, I turned my face. For a second, all I saw was a mass of wind-streaked faces. Then I spotted him, oblivious to anything but that ahead. But then he turned and those eyes, unlike any other eyes I had seen, rested on me.

Then, he was gone. I gave myself consolation in that, once again, he had a glimpse of a mysterious girl. The sand they left was churned and messy and as I stared at it, I realised that somewhere my heart had stopped beating.

A loud shout interrupted my reverie. Looking up, I saw the party stop and a single rider dismount. A movement beside him drew my eyes. Clear as day, Isobel was glowering at me, her usually dainty face puckered and disfigured. She went to leap down but a decisive move of the prince’s hand stopped her. A cavernous hole opened between the pursed lips.

And he started to walk towards me.

I wiped my hands on my skirt and for a moment, felt hideously misplaced. Amongst the colour and grandeur, I was a scarecrow. My hair was not glossy, my lips not red. My hand moved to my face touching my birthmark. I had put the cream on this morning like always but maybe the wind had blown it away. Relying on the strength of Ainesilver’s magic, I drew myself up.

The prince walked across the sand towards me and my eyes took him in. He was tall, his shoulders broad but not too massive. He looked like he would have no trouble with anyone. He held himself proudly as if he was untouchable. My fingers curled. He may look like a royal but arrogance would not save him.

As he came nearer, the anger seemed to unfurl into the air around me. Now I had the time to look, I could see his strong jaw, the mop of brown hair that, like mine, didn’t seem to want to stay still. His eyes...his eyes. When they met, I felt like they would see right through me. Perhaps he would declare me a witch there and then and they would trial me by the sea. I wondered what those hands would feel like on my own.

I shook the thought away. He was here and the time was now.

For a moment, we stood facing each other. He was around my age. Old enough to rule. Old enough to live by his father’s legacy. He was the man I was to kill. But here, standing before me, appraising me, my stomach shifted. The idea of jamming a knife into his guts had been all too easy in imagination.

Now, with the wind surging through my hair and raking through his, I knew I would have to dig deep.

“I’ve seen you before.”

His words were tossed about in the winds but I heard him alright. To play my cards, I had to think. I gave a little nod but did not drop into a curtsey. The scorn was flowing off the group of riders but I ignored their malicious waves. It was as if they expected a huge wave to knock me off my feet for not bowing down to royalty. The prince merely raised his eyebrows.

“Have you now?

“You were by the birdhouse. Were you spying on me or do you appreciate our winged friends?”

I could feel the heat spreading through my cheeks.

“The birds are beautiful. I wanted to see them.”

“We fly the birds midweek at noon. You should come and watch.”

Now it was my turn for my eyebrows to raise. Of their own accord.

“What’s your name?” The question felt invasive, as if I gave him my name, he would hold power over me. No one had really cared to ask me my name much before. It was insignificant.

“You tell me yours.”

He grinned at my response. “Very well.” He drew back his shoulders. I half expected him to hold out his hand for me to kiss. I would spit in it. Instead, he extended his palm. Surprised, I met his hand. It was warm, despite the chill of the shore. He was solid and I could feel the blood coursing through his veins.

“Jarrett.”

“Skilled with a spear are you Jarrett?”

Now it was his turn to blush. “You speak out of turn young lady.”

“I hope you know how to handle a spear on the battlefield. After all, that’s what your name means. Spear warrior.”

He stared at me for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed together. Then he laughed deeply. He bent over double, struggling to snatch air into his lungs. Somehow, it was infectious. I bit my lip, fighting back the giggles that threatened to burst out of me.

Even though I had grown up in the forest, I was not stupid. The books Ysmay had were many and varied. I had learnt the lie of the land, the way the world worked, and I had learned the power of names. Names changed and evolved, but many sprung from our ancestors, from languages created at beginning.

Wiping tears from my eyes, he stood up. “Well, young lady, you’ve mocked my name. What is yours?”

My tongue was heavy in my mouth. Did I tell him my real name or did I lie? I had a moment to make the choice.

“Siofra.”

Now he reached for my hand and raised my fingers to his lips. They were feather-light on my lips. I felt the heat rise to my face and I tried to suppress a gasp.

“Jarrett!” The shrill snap of a harpy interrupted us. With a very obvious heavy heart, he gave me a wink and turned. He strode back towards the group, his boots leaving small marks on the sand.

He mounted his horse and as the tyrade from the lovely Isobel began, they rode away without a second glance.

I was left standing on the sand, watching them vanish into the distance. My hand still tingled from his touch. Jarrett. A warrior. My stomach flipped as I remembered those eyes looking at mine. When would he next see me? I could come down every day and wait…

A wet chill began seeping through my skirts. Grimacing, I looked down. The tide had stealthily begun to creep in whilst we had been talking and now the sea was claiming back its land. Picking up my skirts, I moved back towards the city, my head reeling.

For the next few days, I went through the motions with Ainesilver. Most of what she was now teaching me, I already knew. Keeping up the pretence of the naive student was hard. All I could think of was when I would see him again. I took daily trips to the beach, sometimes with Ainesilver, mostly without.

I saw him time to time in the town, riding past on hunting trips or diplomatic visits to, I presumed, neighbouring towns. He was in the market place one day, poorly disguised in peasant’s clothing. But his height, bearing and speech gave him away. If the villagers noticed, they said nothing.

After lingering in a doorway away from the fray, I slipped past, deliberately bumping into him. He gave a start and grabbed my arm as I walked past. It was all done so quickly and quietly, not one person batted an eyelid. As he twirled me around, my hood came flying off. Grinning, he yanked my hood back up and pulled me past rows of stalls. He finally came to a stop down a street just off the market square. Luckily, this one was relatively wide, if not a trifle dim from the buildings that hung over it.

“Don’t you dare tell anyone who I am or I’ll make you spend a day in the stocks.”

I was about to tell him the truth but bit it down. He was like me, valuing his freedom and taking any chance to escape from confinement. Everyone got trapped, no matter how wealthy they were.

“So how are you Siofra?” He leaned against the wall, nonchalantly.

I couldn’t help but smile. His attitude was infectious.

’I’m doing well Jarrett, thank you. Where’s your wife to be?”

He grimaced.

“Probably twirling around trying to learn some new dances with her ladies.”

That didn’t surprise me one bit. “So you’re running away?”

“I wouldn’t call it that…”

He stood up and began to head down the street. “Siofra, you strike me as a woman who is educated. Can you read?”

I started to bristle but then I realised that most in this town could not. I nodded. “Come with me then.”

Curious, I followed him down the road until we came to another square, one I had not seen before. I could tell it was in the same vicinity as the merchant’s house we had visited. The same large houses, most with their own small gardens sat neatly around the square. The ground beneath me was light gravel, immaculate and with fresh rake marks.

Directly ahead was the castle, looking down on the town’s wealthiest. Still, most if not any would never step between those walls.

We passed through the square into one of the streets. The houses here were smaller, but just as impressive. Many were three stories high. Most were shops, vivid bolts of fabric displayed on shelves beneath open windows. I spotted a shop selling sweet treats, and gorgeous sugar sculptures that sat just inside the open hatches. I was careful not to dribble.

“Not been down here before then?”

“No.”

We stopped outside a tall building with a red and black sign. A manuscript was displayed on the painted wood and I couldn’t wait to step inside. Jarrett opened the door politely for me and I stepped inside.

A single-glazed window cast down a beam of sunlight into the interior. Around me, stacked high and with their edges tattered, were piles of manuscripts. Small wooden boards had been used in a semblance of organization. Histories, poetry, and all the stories passed down from humankind seemed to be contained in this room.

As the door closed behind Jarrett, a head popped up from a row of piles straight ahead. I screamed and Jarrett placed a firm hand on my arm.

“William, must you always scare the ladies so?”

The older man stared at the prince as he pulled back his hood. He blinked, his bright blue eyes moving from him to me then back again. A chair squealed as it scraped against the wood and a plume of papers went flying. There was scuttling and the man appeared. He was slightly bowed over, no doubt from years of pouring over books.

He made a clumsy bow. “My prince, what can I do for you?”

“I was just showing my new acquaintance your wonderful collection. Go back to your scribblings, I have this.” He gave a dazzling smile at William and my stomach flipped. He was like a piece of art, all smooth canvas and colour. But he was very real beside me.

Jarrett wasted no time in guiding me to his favourite section - the miracle plays. He explained how he had asked the poets of the court and the writers to document the plays as they rolled into town. Based on the stories of a book they called the Bible, or on the lives of saints, these were often much-anticipated events. Ysymay had told me once about this book...this was why the old ways were dying and magic was being stamped out. Jarrett had found a manuscript and was reading the stained inky words. His lips moved as he read the lines to himself.

And I swore that day, my heart tore a tiny bit inside me.

He didn’t notice me staring for quite a while but eventually, he realised I hadn’t moved.

“Have you not taken a look around.”

“Oh I have. The...Bible,” my lips struggled to say the words. “You believe...the teachings…”

I had to maneuver this carefully.

“It’s all my father talked about when I was younger.” I bristled as I thought of the king. “Of course I believe in God.”

Who was this God?

“You don’t do you? You know it’s law for every citizen in this land to read his teachings.” He was looking at me with a frown on his face, all thoughts of the miracle play forgotten.

“Oh I do, of course I do,” I babbled. “But I’ve heard of the old ways, and that gods were worshipped and magic -”

A hand clamped over my lips and Jarrett’s breath was warm in my ear

“You will be killed if you say things like that Siofra.”

“But have you heard them too?” I asked earnestly as soon as his hand came away. Then both hands came down, gripping my shoulders hard enough to bruise.

“I haven’t because they never happened.” The words came out of his lips but as I looked into his eyes, I saw they were telling another story.

And again, I felt my heart battle my head. Jarrett was the first man I had met, my first human friend. And my first...no...I tore myself away from those eyes and looked at the manuscript that had been left lying open.

I was overly aware of Jarret’s hot breath on my face, of his strong hands making contact with my own body, of his beating heart. And then I remembered why I was here.

Our way of life was being smashed and ground to dust. No one saw us as unique, gifted, individuals. We were threats. And we were scapegoats. The great drought that had crossed the land...it was nature. Nature did as it willed. It did everything for a reason; to create life and to take it away. And we were nature’s gift to keep nature and humanity in harmony.

Jarrett was innocent but he was also not. He didn’t know any other way. I could see he wanted to believe but years of being taught that magic was evil had left its mark. I could not foresee the ruler he would be, but I could see that he would impose the laws of the kingdom.