Horns and Halos, page 5
“We’ll need to take her to the village leader,” the second guard informed. He too had the same tattoo on his arm, but his was shorter and stopped a few inches before the bend in his arm.
The first guard waved the annoying thought away. “Bah, later.” He turned his attention to me then. “So, what’s your name? Mine’s Gerald.” Holding out his hand, he waited for me.
I smiled warmly and shook his hand firmly, just the way daddy had taught me to. He had always told me that I might look like a village flower but I could pack a punch, and that I should let my grip do the talking for me. “Sia,” I replied.
Gerald winced and sharply drew in a breath of air. “Easy, killer. I’ll need that hand for the rest of my guard duty!”
“And for later on tonight, I’m sure,” the second guard mumbled.
“Hey!” Gerald whined.
“The name’s Alan, Sia. Welcome to our village.”
Laughing, I nodded as I thanked him and took a look around.
Erected in the center of the village, there was a massive carved log with chains swirling around from the bottom to the top. Circling the base there were eerily carved faces stacked in perfect rows. Each one of the heads looked unique and different, not a single one mirroring another. Looking at it made me feel uncomfortable. It was like I was staring into the frozen, wooden eyes of the dead.
Beyond the homes surrounding the front gates, the village opened up further in, and there were small stalls and barns with a few grazing animals. Next to them were large plots of farmlands and a small field of growing hay. Weeds were choking the life of half the wilted plants that were possibly on the verge of death. A corn field was far off to one side, and it was drooping from a lack of care.
“What brings ya?” Alan asked.
I blinked and turned to him. “Hmm? Oh, I am venturing to the faith city,” I admitted. Instantly, the two men gawked at me.
“Saint Augustine?” Gerald gasped. “Why you headin’ there?”
“Did something happen to your village?” Alan asked.
I shook my head. The feelings were still too fresh for me to dive into. I cut off the emotions tied with the event and didn’t make eye contact with them. “I’m just trying to find a place to call home.”
There was so much more to that sentence, and everyone present felt it. We were all uncomfortable after that. There was no way to deny the fact that we all were very aware of the devils that ruled our world and claimed each village, town, and city that was untouched by the demons surrounding us all.
“Just stopping by on your way there, eh?” Gerald questioned, trying to lift the sorrowful mood that had blanketed us.
I nodded. “Yeah. I’m just needing a place to sleep, some supplies, and a few meals.” As I reminded them, I noticed the two men shift uncomfortably and share a look between them. I added, “I don’t mind earning my keep. I am not expecting handouts. I’ll work for everything. Promise.”
To that, the two perked up. Unusually so. “Work?” They said in unison.
“I think it’s time you come meet our leader and get that ugly scratch looked at.” Gerald pointed to the slash on my face and grimaced. I knew it didn’t look pretty. I could feel it. The thing wasn’t even fully scabbed over. Churning the air with his hand, he motioned for me to follow him.
Nearby windows were opened, and people inside looked out at us. Others came to their doorways and watched me as I passed by with Alan and Gerald leading the way. I struggled with making my limp less pronounced. Sweat was trailing all over me and seeping into my half-dried gashes and cuts. It stung, and the one on my ankle itched. If I didn’t tend to it soon, infection would settle in. Mentally, I started making a list of things I needed to tend to as soon as possible.
As we passed by the various buildings of the village, I noticed that the barns didn’t have anyone working around them. The field was bare of workers, the well was free of conversing villagers, the looms felt like they had been abandoned, and the pottery stations were dry as if they hadn’t been used in weeks.
“Is it a holiday?” I asked.
Again, the two men shared a look and then faced the path in front of them. I was starting to get the feeling that the reason behind the lack of work wasn’t a joyful one. Had someone died? All of a sudden, I felt horrible for asking.
“No. It’s not a holiday,” Alan answered finally.
“This is just how we are,” Gerald added grimly.
Both of them went tight-lipped, and their expressions became twisted with ghosts of their past that they didn’t want to talk about. I had a feeling that, eventually, it was going to be explained to me. If I didn’t need the food and shelter, I would hit the road again and cut my losses. However, I didn’t trust Draki to keep me as safe as I would want to be. I just couldn’t bring myself to trust a devil.
The rest of the walk to the leader’s home at the back of the village was quiet, and I felt like I was a criminal marching toward the gallows. I swallowed hard and shifted the weight of the backpack on my good shoulder.
“Rather rude of them not to be the conversing sort on a long walk, don’t you think?” Draki whispered in my ear. I jumped and screamed, which halted the two men in front of me.
“What! What is it?” Alan shouted.
“Are-are you okay?” Gerald asked, concerned. Meanwhile, Alan looked me over like he was trying to pick me apart with his eyes.
I shook my head and bit the side of my lip. “I saw a spider,” I said meekly. I even shivered for show. It wasn’t a lie. I was really afraid of spiders. I’d been bitten by one in my sleep when I was younger and had a nasty fever and a sore spot on my leg for over a month. I didn’t actually see one, but it would defuse any thoughts on their part that there might be something off with me. With light chuckles and a nod of understanding, they continued on.
My vision cut to Draki, and my frown expressed everything I couldn’t verbally state at that moment. He drew in a sharp breath and gave me a devious grin. “Oh, did I frighten you?”
I rolled my eyes.
“Hahahaha. Poor thing. I thought you would want the company.”
I narrowed my gaze at him, and I could feel his delight in my annoyance with him. I whispered, “I’m fine.”
Gerald heard me and laughed. “Right you are. Just a little bug. No need to feel bad about it. Alan here looks like he could split heads with his bare hands, but he passes out at the sight of blood.”
“I do not!” Alan declared.
“Do too. Don’t you remember fainting when Bethany gave birth to your son?”
Alan paled a bit. “Don’t remind me. That was different. I didn’t know a woman’s body could go through all that.”
I couldn’t help it, I laughed. I remembered similar situations happening back in my village. Men and women alike had fainted during childbirth or when they saw too much blood. It was why butcher jobs and medics were only taken on by those that could push past the gruesome images.
While the two guards were distracted, I mouthed to Draki go away with an angry countenance.
“Suit yourself. Call out my name if you need me,” he stated with a deep sigh that expressed his boredom rather than any form of sadness.
We reached the home, and I stayed outside as the two guards went to inform the leader. While I waited, I looked back behind me to the tall, strange totem in the village’s center. How odd that all of the faces were frozen in fear or anguish. Even now—with them being at a distance—they still disturbed me.
“I wouldn’t focus on that,” Draki warned as he appeared at my side.
Not expecting him to show up again so soon, I shuddered and lay a hand over my overworked heart. After taking a moment, I spoke softly while still looking at it. “Why?”
“It’ll become a problem if you do.”
I turned to ask him what he meant, but Alan and Gerald had already returned, and Draki had vanished once more.
Alan said, “She’ll see you inside.”
“I wish you luck,” Gerald expressed with a toothy grin before he started back toward the village gate.
“Thanks,” I stated in passing while following Alan into the home.
The house was two stories tall with a thatched roof and a second-floor balcony that was woven with sticks and vines. Mud and clay made up the walls, and I could see the bark of logs poking out through the dried mixture. Inside the home was cool, and a few potted plants adorned the exposed windows and were nestled next to the doorways. Further inside, near the back, a woman was eyeing over the many flowers and the half-wilted farmland beyond. Her skin was a touch darker than mine, and she wore an elaborate headdress with brightly dyed feathers that swept the floor as she walked about the enclosed back porch. I could see that her hands up to her forearms were painted in a deep crimson paint, and that same paint was smeared across her eyes. She wore a long, earthy green dress, and in her dark, brown eyes I saw a sadness that danced with wisdom.
“You must be Sia,” she said, facing me.
“Yes.” I wasn’t going to give anyone I didn’t trust my full name. Devil or not. It was like handing someone a sharpened blade that you cherished. It could protect you ... or cut you down. “What should I call you?” I asked.
“Everyone in the village refers to me as Matulia.”
“Nice to meet you, Matulia.”
“And very nice to meet you as well, Sia. Come,” she said, holding her arms straight out to me, palms up.
I took it as an invitation to take her hands, and I made no hesitation in doing so. Something in her eyes made me trust her without a second thought. Her fingers wrapped around my palms, and she pulled me closer to inspect me silently.
After a long moment, she smiled and gave a small nod. “Whatever brought you here doesn’t need to be explained. How can we help?”
A burden was lifted from my shoulders. Feeling relieved, I told her, “I was hoping to do some work in exchange for food and lodging ... maybe some supplies if you have them to spare?”
There was something that flashed in her eyes, but it was too quick for me to catch. She was quiet as she contemplated, and when I thought silence was all I would receive, she lightly squeezed my hands. “I think that could be arranged. Perhaps Marcel and Janet could help you make a list and start working.”
“Really?” I asked, perking up. I was beginning to think that I was asking too much of them.
She laughed and shook her head, and the sound of the feathers brushing over her body brought peace to my spirit. “Yes,” she withdrew one hand to touch my braids and sadness crashed to the surface of her dark brown eyes. The moment stretched on longer than I was comfortable with, and she noticed. Snapping out of her daze, she smiled at me and let my hair fall away from her grasp. “I’ll take you to them. Alan, please see yourself back to your post,” Matulia directed.
He bowed slightly to her. “Yes, Matulia.”
As he left, she placed my hand on the bend of her arm saying, “Walk with me.”
“Can I ask why everything feels so ...” I was at a loss for words. It felt barren and empty like everyone had stopped working in the middle of their daily chores and just let everything go.
Even from the side, I could see the expression on her face. It was the mask we all wore when we denied the fact that we were kept safe from demons by pacts with devils. It was the same look we all gave when we’d throw open the closet door and expose the skeletons therein.
“It is our curse,” she said finally.
And with that, I sort of understood what she meant. The state of their village wasn’t necessarily by choice but forced upon them. “You aren’t allowed to work?” I whispered, unsure if this was a conversation that should be held at levels that others could hear.
She shook her head with a deep sigh. “We are limited to the amount of work that we can do.” She motioned with her chin to the arm that I was holding. I saw a chain tattoo. It mirrored the same one that Gerald and Alan had. Only hers was just a few links long and closer to her shoulder. “If we do more than our share of work that day, the chain grows.”
“Yours is so short,” I blurted out, and I cringed at my own rudeness.
She noticed the expression and laughed lightly. “It’s all right. It’s a natural thing to be curious, especially in a new village. I’m the leader,” she said. For a brief second, her vision swam with the ghosts of things long since passed. Shaking her head slightly, she began again. “The leader has to lead. They can’t be at risk and ever constantly changing. The links must remain short on those that rule over our village.”
I dared to ask, “What happens when the chain gets down to your hand?”
She patted me with a warm smile, but there was a touch of hurt in the curl of her lips. “Don’t fuss over such matters. It is our burden to bear. Don’t worry. The curse doesn’t affect outsiders.”
Despite it being the relief that it was, I could feel a weight rest upon me. The type that makes a home in your being when you want to be of some help to someone but you know there is nothing that you can physically do to aid them. I felt so helpless and didn’t like that feeling in the slightest. It reminded me of when momma hugged me when I was thrown out of the village. It reminded me of being trapped between a leech and a grunt in the cave ... and it reminded me of being so helpless that I ignorantly made a pact with a devil to stay alive.
We walked behind one of the homes, and I saw three people sitting on a porch with several baskets. There was a man, a woman, and their older son peeling the leaves off of corn with glum expressions. The father had strawberry red locks and pale blue eyes. His freckles were specked all over his cheeks and nose, making his pale skin look adorable. But the tired circles under his eyes made his cute, round face seem aged beyond his actual years. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, and the visible links peeked out a few inches down his forearm.
The mother had chestnut curls and a brighter set of blue eyes. The skin of her face and hands seemed sun-worn, and her youthful glow was stolen by the hidden appearance of years of endless worries. Her own chain link tattoo was almost to her wrist, and the image was smeared with sweat and dirt.
The younger man had short, messy, light auburn hair that glinted gold in the summer sun. His eyes were hazel and his smile bright, though the sadness in his hues doused any joy that the curve of his lips implied. He had faint freckles dashing across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Stubble lined his chin in a slightly darker shade than his hair. And his tattoo was visible on his shirtless body. Links traveled from the shoulder all the way down to the back of his hand. It was like walking the line of a visible curse with my eyes ... because I was. He looked as though he might be a year older than I, and yet I felt like I was looking at a dead man.
“Put the ears of corn by the steps. We’ll gather water from the river in a little while so we can wash them,” the woman gently explained to the young man.
In a low whisper, Matulia said, “Marcel is the father. That there is Janet, the mother.”
“And him?” I breathed, feeling pain take hold of my chest as I asked.
“Elijah,” she replied back.
“Elijah,” I quietly parroted.
After taking a few steps closer, Matulia called out to the family. “Good day, Roier family!” They all looked up, and I watched as the gloomy expressions on their faces slowly faded away.
Marcel spoke up first as he stood and dusted off his jeans. “Just another day, Matulia. I see you have a new friend.”
“And any friend of mine is a friend of yours. She’s looking for somewhere to sleep and a few warm meals.”
“I’ll work for them,” I reminded.
Janet gave a weak smile. “We thank you for your help.”
I waved my hands from side to side. “I’m just earning my keep. No need to thank me.”
“Anyone willing to do extra work around here is a walking miracle to us,” Elijah explained.
“Would it be okay if she stayed with your family?” Matulia asked.
The family exchanged looks, turned their eyes to the ground, and fidgeted in silence for a short while. All of a sudden, I felt like I was asking for a favor that caused them all physical harm. But when I looked to them all, it was Elijah’s hazel eyes that I was met with.
“We have a spare room you can sleep in,” he said.
“Elijah,” Marcel whispered angrily and then looked to the mother, worry in his gaze.
Janet shook her head with a painful upturn of her lips. “It’s okay, Marcel. It’s been three years. Time that room saw more than cobwebs and dust.”
“Are you—” Marcel started.
“As sure as the day that I married you,” Janet quickly affirmed.
The father nodded and stood a bit taller. “Very well. If you say that it is okay, I’ll agree.”
Janet smiled, and there was a touch more warmth to the expression. “I’ll go prepare an extra place at the table and freshen up the room for you. I’m sorry that I’ll have to leave you with these two blockheads,” she teased with a wink and dashed through the entrance before her husband could playfully slap her backside.
Matulia patted me before she slipped away saying, “I know you are in good hands. I’ve got much to tend to, so I’ll leave the three of you to get acquainted and settled.”
Turning, the father jutted a thumb out to the field. “I’m going to gather the last of the baskets and meet you all back inside the house. Supper should be soon, and we can finish this up later.”
“I can help,” Elijah exclaimed.
“No!” the single word was practically barked. He looked to me and the leader before drawing in a slow, calming breath before lowering his voice to say, “You’ve done enough today. How about you keep our new guest company?”
Not really giving his son an inch to argue, Marcel was hopping off the porch and heading out to gather the lone baskets of corn deep in the field. Shortly after, Matulia headed back toward her hut.
The young man sighed as he was left alone with me. I’m sure he was feeling as awkward as I was. It radiated off the both of us. We avoided eye contact and made weird throat-clearing sounds for a solid three minutes before he rubbed the back of his neck and reluctantly faced me.
