Posted 2024-05-12; Beta'd by Eeyorefan12
Despite their impending journey, Jasper hadn't said more than three words to Bella since the meeting of the day before, partly because they'd both been busy, and partly because, well—Sabellian society might be matriarchal in some respects, but its patriarchal holdovers were strong, and Jasper's pride was obviously hurting. He'd scoffed at Bella's idea and challenged his mother in front of their household. Now he nursed his wounded pride.
"How was Miss Sarris?" Bella asked him, helping unload the cart.
"There are others that can do this," he muttered, frowning as she picked up a light parcel of herbs.
"Yes, there are, but I'm hardly going to hurt myself carrying in something that weighs less than a pound." She matched his step on the stairs. "And you haven't answered my question."
"Miss Sarris is well enough. She asked why we needed so much medicine. I told her we were making sure Emmett's family in Pilkonis had what they needed, given the difficulties in getting supplies there."
"Good," Esme said, coming to relieve Bella of her parcel. "Why don't you go help Alice stitch together the last of the bags, Bella? You won't have much opportunity for rest in the next few days, and you'll need more of it than Jasper and I will."
The thought of sitting sedately and sewing made Bella grimace.
Noting Bella's hesitation, Esme nodded toward her rounded belly. "For the sake of your child."
Edward's child. All that would be left of Esme's son if he . . .
Feeling chagrined that she hadn't considered Esme's concern in that light, Bella gave a quiet "of course" and went to join Alice in the parlor, where she was deftly and neatly stitching together burlap-like sacks. Bella worked much less efficiently but no less diligently, relieved when they finished the stack.
Too anxious to rest, Bella tried to find other tasks to keep her busy, but by the time the evening came, there was nothing more to do. Unable to bear the sympathetic looks from the other household members, she took herself upstairs and to her and Edward's room where she wrapped herself in her shawl and laid down on the bed. She buried her face in his pillow, trying to comfort herself with his scent, aching to feel his arms around her.
She slept fitfully, waking every few hours from nightmares about Jasper and Esme leaving without her. When she finally woke and dressed in the early dark hours of a wet winter morning, she was bizarrely excited but also tired and anxious.
Esme and Jasper didn't look much better, grim-faced as they were. Even Demia seemed glum, though loaded down as she was with supplies, Bella supposed that was to be expected.
Alice held out a long, thin, steel-gray coat towards Bella. "I'd like you to use this. It was my grandmother's."
Bella eyed the obviously inadequate garment. She'd freeze in it. Already chilled, even wearing the heavy coat Esme had found for her, she shivered, thinking of how much colder she'd be. "Oh, I have one already, it's—"
"Not like this, you don't." Alice held it up for Bella to slip on.
Reluctantly, Bella removed her outer layer, donning the light garment. The warmth was immediate. And wonderful.
"Weaver's threads," she murmured.
Alice chuckled. "It never gets cold enough here for me to use it, but I think you might like it."
Bella fingered the fabric. "It's so thin, but it's so—"
"Warm? Yes. It should be. It's made of dragonskin."
Bella looked over the railing to Demia.
"It's very old. Dragonskin lasts a long time, and it's very warm and very strong."
"I'll take good care of it," Bella promised.
Alice shook her head. "You won't need to. It sheds water and dirt and will keep you very comfortable."
"Thank you."
Alice gently flattened down a wrinkle on the sleeve. "Coming back to us safe will be thanks enough."
Bella nodded, reciprocating as Alice leaned in to hug her.
"Everything's ready," Jasper said, coming up the stairs to meet Alice.
Bella moved away to give them some privacy, making her own quiet farewells as Esme did the same. In the drawn faces of the household, Bella could sense the weariness for such partings. Having seen off the Lykos family, Edward, and then Rose and Emmett days before, the little community was already much lessened, and its future wholeness remained in question.
Setting off, Bella sat behind Esme, thinking of their chances of success. She had no idea of their odds. As to what they would find when they reached the Kaethe—she winced at a twinge in her back, shifting in her seat behind Esme.
"Do you need to dismount?"
"No, thank you."
She would do nothing that would slow them down.
They skirted Presga, using the old and much narrower road that took them east of the severance site.
Their only breaks were for hasty meals and quick latrine stops, most of the latter for Bella's sake. Well east and north of Pilkonis, the road dwindled to a rocky track that disappeared into the woods, then the foothills, and finally the broad face of the forested mountains. The trees, at first familiar, slowly petered out, outnumbered by towering succulents and spiky coniferous plants. Having grown accustomed to the soft blue glyko fronds, the landscape seemed harsh and alien. Even the few bird cries they heard were shrill.
"Carrion eaters," Esme said, as they watched a pair circle overhead. "Nothing for us to worry about."
Bella certainly hoped so as she swallowed the hard lump in her throat.
They made camp under a stone outcropping, Jasper securing the dragons as Esme lit a small fire. Bella sat as she'd been instructed to. She'd also been warned not to wander. Most of the larger wild animals would be hibernating, but most was not all. The small fire made shadows flicker over the wall, illuminating the small designs there.
"Traveler's marks," Esme said.
Bella stood, tracing a finger over one rudimentary drawing. The rear wall was covered in them, that and words—a few she recognized, more she didn't. She walked its length, crouching until she reached the crevice where she found herself staring at words she knew, not because her Sabellian had improved, but because they were written in English: God save us.
She stared at the letters a long time, and as she tried to sleep, her gaze tracked to that corner, the words morphing into a prayer of her own: God, save him. Save him.
— o — 0 — o —
"Here?" Jasper eyed the large conical mound of stones marking the spot between paths.
"It's where they signaled before." Esme unclipped her harness and dismounted, smoothing down her dress.
"Exactly. We'd be better off choosing higher ground."
"For what? Mounted battle?" Esme snorted. "We've come to negotiate. I'd rather they know we understand our position."
"It links us to the last party."
"We are as linked to the last party as we could be."
Jasper dismounted, unclipping the reins and using them to secure the wings of his dragon before hobbling her.
"It's as sacred a place to meet as there is." Esme lifted her chin to the mound of stones. "They've maintained it."
Not a mound of stones then, Bella realized, but a cairn. Mr. Othonos had mentioned a memorial.
Bella helped Esme hobble Demia, rubbing at the smooth scales on the animal's neck. The dragon gave a quiet sort of growl that Bella hoped was a good sign. When Demia turned her head to sniff at her coat, Bella was surprised to hear Esme chuckle.
"She likes you."
A little nervous having the large mouth so close to her and the dragonskin coat, Bella stayed still, letting Demia whuffle over her shoulder. With a huff, the dragon then turned back and sank down to her haunches, squirming a little as she wiggled her wings, which were rolled up in leather straps.
They fed the animals and ate a cold lunch. Esme started a fire which, once high, she began to pile wet branches over, making it smoke. Though hobbled and fed, the dragons were otherwise left ready for a quick departure. Bella surveyed the open area. It would make a poor camping spot. As it was, the circular clearing, met on either side by trails, was an unnatural opening in the woods. Bella's gaze drifted back to the large cairn and the smoke drifting over its top. Someone would have had to keep the area clear—and maintain the cairn.
"It's a memorial," Esme said softly.
Bella glanced at her mother-in-law who wasn't making eye contact, still methodically dropping wet leaves and wood onto the fire. Jasper sat across from them, staring intently at the flames and rising smoke.
"My grandmother left one of the foundation stones. She brought me here, as she took my mother here, as I brought Rose here. And now I've brought you here."
"Rather ironically suitable, isn't it," Jasper muttered.
For the first time ever, Bella heard Esme hiss. She startled at the sound, scooting away from a spark.
Jasper bowed his head. "I apologize."
Esme glared at him, huffed out a breath, and then looked away. "I apologize as well. I've hardly been myself."
Jasper nodded.
The trio watched the smoke rise from the fire for several minutes.
Bella stared at the cairn, thinking of the words she'd found the night before. "Those weren't all traveler's marks that we saw last night." She picked up a stick and poked at the fire. "There was one in English."
"No, they weren't." Esme glanced at the piled up stones. "This trail is called the dakria—the way of the weeping. It was how slaves were taken north from the severance site, and later, when fewer slaves were brought over, the way the stolen were taken."
The way she said it, 'the stolen' sounded like a term for something significant.
"My grandmother Elisia and her slave Gosha were two of them—the stolen. My great-grandfather had sent them to visit cousins in Pilkonis. They were sitting on the veranda one night and the slavers abducted them. Usually, they took women of good family for ransom. But my great-grandfather didn't receive their message, so the slavers made use of my grandmother and her slave—much as you were used."
Oh.
"They sent another ransom demand. This time my great-grandfather did receive it. He paid for my grandmother but not Gosha—which was not unexpected for the time. When my grandmother was returned to him, she'd been seeded, just as you were. Her slave, a woman she loved dearly, had been made a surrogate."
Bella stared at Esme and then Jasper, who appeared unperturbed by this story. Could this have been part of the reason he had been so against Edward's marrying her?
"It isn't a story we often share," Esme said. "I confess that I advised Edward to wait to give you this part of our family history." She gave Bella an apologetic smile. "I was concerned that the parallels might make you question his motives in offering to marry you. My grandfather, a long time family friend, offered to take my grandmother as mate to save her life." She smiled. "Given his status, he'd never have been considered as a suitor, but they made a good match. They loved one another very much."
As she and Edward had come to love each other.
Bella shivered. "And Gosha? What happened to her?"
Esme hugged herself, her work at the fire temporarily abandoned. "We don't know. Likely, she died. My grandmother looked for her, as much as she could when she was young, and again after the revolution. She never found her. But she and many others set stones here—as you can see more have."
"Those aren't for your people," a new voice announced.
Bella was the only one who startled.
"It's alright," Esme said, indicating Bella should stay seated. Standing, she turned to face the man who'd emerged from the treeline. "My family set stones here, as have others. We all have the right to remember those we've lost."
Tall and lanky, with stringy, chin-length hair, the man eyed them shrewdly. "You've come to trade?"
Esme took a step forward but when he held up his hand, she stopped where she was, squaring her shoulders. "You have my son. Edward Cullen."
"Do we."
It wasn't a question, and Bella clenched her fists. This wasn't a good sign.
"If you don't, we'll be on our way then." Esme scooped up an armful of wet leaves and turned to make a show of smothering the fire.
"I'll take you and the other woman there—but not him."
Esme faced him again. "Do you have my son?"
"He's the look of you, so I suppose we do." At the treeline, he kept one hand on his hip, the other—Bella finally saw—on a machete by his belt. "Your man will need to move away."
Jasper gave Esme a wary look. She shrugged, nodding at him.
No, they didn't exactly have much in the way of a choice, did they?
"I'm Esme Cullen." She nodded toward Bella and Jasper. "My son and my daughter . . . Edward's wife. Who are you?"
"I'm Zuar." He eyed Bella curiously.
"Well, Zuar, take me to my son. I mean to trade for him."
Bella stood, grateful for Jasper's hand at her elbow as he did the same. Still feeling the stranger's gaze on her, she stared back, watching his eyes widen.
Yes, he knew what she was.
Esme removed the hobbles from Demia, handing them to Bella to form the bridle's reins. As they stood to mount Demia, Bella eyed her mother-in-law, reading the grim determination in her features.
"We'll find nothing here," Esme finally said softly, glancing around the clearing.
Bella swallowed and nodded, hoisting herself into the saddle and buckling the restraints in place. Esme climbed on behind her.
"Blindfold yourselves," Zuar said.
Bella did as instructed, pulling her handkerchief from her pocket, tying it around her head herself. She supposed that even here in the middle of the woods, a woman's hair was sacrosanct.
Bella felt the stranger mount behind them, taking the reins from her.
"I'll wait here," Jasper called out.
He wouldn't, Bella knew. He'd be turning back south with the other dragon as soon as they were out of sight. They'd discussed this possibility and decided that any one of them would be in too much danger if two were taken.
"We'll find you," Esme called back.
Bella felt the world sway beneath her as Demia trotted over the uneven, rising ground that took them further up the mountain. She felt Esme's hands at her waist more than once, helping to steady her. What felt like a half hour later, she had to pop her ears. The intermittent rain became pelting ice. Bella put up her hood.
"It's not much further," Zuar said.
There was another sharp turn sideways and then upwards. Deprived of her sight, Bella strained to hear anything beyond the slithering hiss of Demia's tail cutting through the mud and fallen acicular leaves. A distant shout crackled against the mountain, the echo bouncing back towards them.
Zuar called out. If it was Sabellian, she didn't recognize the dialect.
They slowed, the reins brushing past her leg. Was Edward nearby? Her breathing quickened.
"You can take off your blindfolds."
Bella nearly ripped hers pulling it off. She blinked, her vision slightly blurred—or so she thought. There was a tiny lean-to, the door open, a slumped figure inside, hands tied at the side to a central support. She knew the shape of the man, but the side of his face—a mottled purple and yellow with a bruised eye was disconcerting. Bella squinted, trying to see more, looking for signs of life.
"Edward!"
Esme yanked off the restraints, sliding off the dragon.
An icy hand gripped Bella's arm. "Stay here," Zuar said.
Bella was too shocked by what she saw to disobey.
Esme bent over Edward, calling his name. He wasn't moving.
As if viewing it in slow motion, Bella watched as Zuar slipped off Demia, walking slowly and silently towards Esme and Edward.
Finally, at Esme's urging, Edward's head turned up, his eyes opening and his wakening gaze finding first his mother and then Bella—just as Zuar picked up his machete, lifting it by the blade high over Esme's head.
Bella froze. She watched Edward's eyes widen as Zuar slammed the blade handle down on his mother's head and she fell, an abrupt dead weight.
"No!" Edward cried out hoarsely.
In answer, Zuar repeated the action against Edward's temple, silencing him.
When Zuar lifted the machete again, this time by the handle, Bella's world fractured, her vision cracking into a mosaic: the rainbow of Edward's bruises, his and Esme's too-still bodies, the blade catching the light as it sliced through the air, and then blackness.