“Where are we going?” I ask, my voice quivering.
“The Court. It’s the only place,” she mutters while her attention stays on her tasks.
“Where’s that? I’ve not heard anyone mention they are from there. Is it one of the smaller southern towns?” I can’t remember seeing it on any map, either. Osanor was the nearest market town to us, a day away. Beyond that, heading south, was the main port of Nestegarth, where ships from Sunatora bringing spices, textiles, and other goods lined the dock. Or at least, that’s what Lyle told me. We’d never made the journey together as I was tasked with minding the shop when she ventured for supplies.
“No.” She doesn’t look up from packing, but she grows more frantic as if trying to move faster, time catching at her every move.
“Ever. Go. Get your things. Clothes, belongings. Anything you have.”
“I don’t understand. What are we going for? What is The Court?”
“Just do as I say. I’ll explain on the way.” She tacks on the last part, but the conviction in her voice is already gone, leaving me doubting the truth of her words.
Yet, do as I’m told and go.
I pull the old dresser open, grab the two off-white shirts and stuff them into my bag, along with a few other items of clothes, nearly emptying the drawers. I get my hairbrush and tie to try to tame my unruly curls. A leather-bound book that started as a picture book, and I then filled with scribbles and drawings, goes in next.
I stare at my collection of belongings as my eyes sweep the room. I won’t need them, surely. But there’s an empty pit in my stomach caused by Lyle’s actions. Her words. She’s never mademe doubt anything before, not a day in my life. So, this has my pulse racing with worry.
I wrap a shirt around the cup and hide the small pebble of quartz in another item. The small ring slides onto my forefinger, and I grab the brooch, too. They are coming with me.
By the time I come back downstairs, Lyle has everything she needs, but she doesn’t have time to hide the look of trepidation on her face as she looks at me, the shadows of the room turning her face even more sinister.
She’s worried. Fearful, even. However, she’s never seen me wrong, so I follow as she leads out of the small building that has been my entire world.
The gentle pinks of dawn have started to warm the sky, casting shades and shadows around us.
Our cottage is just off the main road towards Osanor, nestled at the edge of a glen, close enough to the main road but also out of the way. Two horses are tethered to the largest tree next to the house.
“Lyle?”
“You’ll be fine. These are good horses,” her voice is sure.
“We don’t have horses. We can’t afford them,” I repeat the words she always told me when I asked as a small child after seeing people arrive and go on horseback.
“We don’t have time to discuss it. Besides, these are on loan for our journey. That’s all.”
She starts to load the already saddled horses with her supplies, and I’m a little shocked she’s managed to accomplish this so fast. I stand and watch, nerves tickling through me, but then move, securing my hessian bag to the saddle. The horse stamps the ground, restless and agitated as I work, and I back away, putting myself at a safe distance.
Lyle stops what she’s doing and comes over to help, trying to calm him. I follow her lead and move to stroke his neck, but Lyle steps in front of me, blocking my move.
“This is Nettle. Jump up while I hold him.”
It’s been years since I mounted a horse, but I stretch and pull myself up as best as I can, finally seating myself in the stiff saddle. As I settle, so does the horse until I smooth his mane, and he answers by whinnying and tossing his head back as if trying to make me stop wriggling.
I do before taking the reins from Lyle, who agilely mounts her horse and chooses an unknown path away from the cottage. Luckily, my horse is happy to walk on with little or no encouragement from me, leaving me to focus on maintaining my balance and nerve.
I look back. Only once. At the small, stone-built house that has kept me safe and content for so many years.My home.
The joy of growing up, of exploring, of learning and every first I’ve ever had rushes to mind as if my own memory is trying to make me stay. A strange echo of feeling washes over me as if this exact view from a horse, with the exact shade of morning light, isn’t the first time I’ve seen it. There’s a familiarity that’s eerie and sends a shiver through me. Just as I strain to place it, pain overtakes me. It hits like a blade carving through my head, and I drop the reins to hold my head, forcing myself to keep my wits enough to squeeze my legs to stop me from falling, too.
A picture book of images flashes by, just like last time. They force their way inside my skull, uninvited, and chase off all my own thoughts.
“Make it stop,” I plead. “Make it stop!”
I open my eyes, but Lyle isn’t coming to help. She doesn’t answer. She’s staring at me, the worry and fear from earlier now stark on her face. All I want is for her to reach out, hold me, andtell me it will be okay, like she’s always done, but she doesn’t move.
I stare at her, pleading, and sense the fear and panic in her heart. As I look at her, her feelings cloak mine, and as they do, as her fear rises, my pain ceases, dulling and drifting away, along with the images that crashed into me.
