Chapter 22: CHAPTER 22

“You did something to her!” barked Mygo. “She wasn’t like this when I found her. And why is her hair a different color?” He paced the short distance of the common room with heavy steps and glared at Annilasia with every other stride.

Annilasia didn’t speak, perplexed by why he was so keen to blame her for Jalice’s mental state. The deduction struck her as odd given how little he really knew about them.

“You can no longer deny you’re an aethertwister,” said Mygo, nostrils flaring. “I let the book go, but I can’t help but notice the medresa dangling in your hair. And now your friend is going mad and seeing things that aren’t there.”

Annilasia clenched her fists. “Stop calling me that. I’m not an aethertwister.”

“Then what are you?” challenged Mygo.

“It doesn’t matter. We’ll be leaving here soon, and then you won’t have to worry about it anymore.”

Mygo’s frown deepened. “No, not after this.” He gestured towards the sealed door with Jalice behind it. “I don’t trust you with her. You better give me an explanation, or I won’t let you leave my home with that young woman.”

Vowt glanced anxiously between Annilasia and Mygo. He hunched over with his arms crossed, while his hands opened and closed in obvious anxiety.

The ultimatum hung in the space between them. Annilasia used the time to calculate her odds. She could kill them both. Aware of Mygo’s quick reflexes, she’d slay him first. Vowt didn’t appear to be much of a fighter. Yet a part of her hesitated. She’d be slaying possibly the only people who knew anything about the flayers and how to kill them.

If Mygo never trusted her, though, he was going to be a problem. For now, she recognized it as wise to keep him alive for his knowledge, at least until they arrived safely at the Flock of Tents. As for trust, Annilasia gambled that throwing Mygo a bone would result in the man’s cooperation.

“She’s the Tecalica—chieftess to the Sachem,” Annilasia stated.

Mygo went rigid. His lips parted, but no words came out. His brow furrowed as he snapped his mouth shut.

“Why—why is the chieftess here?” Vowt asked as he shuffled back a step.

Annilasia spared him a look but watched Mygo out of the corner of her eye. “I am—was—taking her away from here.”

“What changed?” Mygo asked.

Annilasia grimaced as she recalled Elothel’s new plan. “Her mind is . . . compromised.”

“You mean broken,” Mygo retorted. “She’s seeing things that aren’t there.”

“Then you’ll understand why I have to get her to someone who can help. That someone is supposed to meet me at the Flock of Tents.”

The two men exchanged looks. Mygo turned back to Annilasia and sighed. “I know that place,” he said. “I go there often for supplies.” He crinkled his nose. “Why do you have the chieftess?”

“What I told you before wasn’t a lie. I’m rescuing her. She needed to get away from the Fortress—from the Sachem. Ikaul warriors are after us, and I intend to keep her safe. I dyed her hair to conceal her identity.”

Mygo considered this, but his skepticism lingered. He crossed his arms and flexed his muscles in a show of intimidation.

“There’s more to your story that you’re not telling,” he said suspiciously. “You were hiding facts before, and you’re hiding them still.”

“Are you really going to stop me?” Annilasia asked. “After all the threats, after all your suspicions—now you’ve gotten your reason to be rid of us. The chieftess of the Unified Tribes is under your roof, and you’ve been quite clear about where your loyalties lie.”

Mygo’s resolve wavered, and he shifted on his feet. “But you’ve maintained you’re no true Sachem warrior, and that you two are fleeing him. Tecalica or not, she isn’t my true enemy.” His frown returned. “You, on the other hand, keep too many secrets for my liking. I think you’re to blame for your friend’s mental break.” His eyes flickered over to Vowt. “We need to talk.” The two men moved to the far end of the room.

Annilasia turned a bit as if to give them privacy, but she eavesdropped on the low murmurs from across the room.

“I know your research is important to you,” whispered Mygo. “But I think the chieftess needs my help.”

“What—what are you g-g-going to do?” Vowt asked.

“I’m going to make sure they get to the Flock of Tents safely. Without me, they’d be likely to attract more flayers.”

“But we want flayers for my research.”

Mygo groaned. “I know, but we don’t want the flayers to hurt these women. When I get back, we’ll check our traps to see if we caught any more. I promise.”

“If you go, I go.” Vowt clapped his hands as if that sealed the decision.

Mygo shook his head. “No, it’s not safe out there.”

“I can take care of myself!” shouted Vowt. His speech pattern amplified under the stress of the conversation, and his words dragged out longer between stutters. “You—you—you trained me.”

“I know you can.” Mygo glanced at Annilasia, obviously irritated their conversation was far from private now. He turned back to Vowt. “But I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Vowt rolled his eyes and threw up his hands. “It’s just the Flock of Tents. It’s not—not even in flayer territory really. Plus, I want better supplies. You—you always mess up my list.”

“I do not.”

Vowt nodded with vigorous insistence. “Yes, you do. You g-g-get yucky f-f-food—never enough berries. And—and—and never what I need for my experiments.” Hands still raised, he shot up his eyebrows, giving a matter-of-fact look at the larger man.

“I get what they have,” Mygo muttered. “They don’t always have what you ask for.”

Vowt turned away, evidently done with the conversation. “I’m coming to—to get my supplies.” He began collecting items from around the room and stuffing them into a large sack.

Mygo watched with disapproval but eventually surrendered to his companion’s decision. He returned to Annilasia with a begrudging look.

“As you can tell, we’re coming with you,” said Mygo. He hid none of his displeasure at the prospect.

“I don’t need your help,” said Annilasia, fixing the man with a stern expression. She wasn’t ready to admit that confessing Jalice’s identity had been a guaranteed way to rope in his curiosity and, by extension, his knowledge about the flayers en route to the Flock.

“I don’t care,” Mygo countered. If he was aware of Annilasia’s underlying motives, he didn’t show it. “Until I’m convinced that you’ve got her best intentions at heart, I’m going to stick around to make sure you don’t harm her.”

“Just don’t make things worse,” Annilasia growled.

“Worse than a woman who’s lost her stars while her alleged guardian forces her through flayer-infested woods? Unless death is on your wishlist, I don’t see how I could make things worse at this point.” His gaze shifted to the sealed room as hysterical sobs filtered through. “Will she make it through the night? It would be best to leave in the morning. There isn’t enough daylight left to travel now.”

“She’s my concern, not yours,” said Annilasia. She went to open the door but paused with her hand on the latch when Mygo spoke.

“There you go again. Refusing help when you need it.” He paused. “Vowt might be able to mix something up that could help her sleep. So don’t be a fool when I knock on the door later.”

Annilasia listened to the retreating thuds of his boots before unlatching the door and stepping past it. Her eyes fell on the huddled form in the corner of the room. Whatever conversation would ensue, Annilasia had a sense she wasn’t going to like it.

***

Jalice didn’t acknowledge Annilasia when the tillishu sank to the floor beside her. Subsiding sobs continued to roll through her while her mind clouded with residual images still lingering from the unveiled memory. All energy had drained out, leaving her empty.

“Are you all right?” asked Annilasia.

The words swam through the numbness that paralyzed Jalice’s otherwise depleted mind. Without turning, she managed to croak a meager response that took far more effort to produce than it should have.

“No, I’m not,” replied Jalice.

An awkward pause preceded Annilasia’s response. “At least you’re lucid now. Do you understand what was happening before? What were you seeing?”

The questions conjured unbeckoned visions of the Star Alignment Feast and the inevitable kiss witnessed in the forest. She remained silent, unsure if this was out of shame or the belief that Annilasia simply wouldn’t understand.

Amidst the distressing recollections, Jalice’s own inquiry squirmed its way past her lips.

“You did something to me, didn’t you?” she asked.

Silence—although Jalice could practically hear Annilasia’s mind churning. Jalice expected her to assert ignorance but grew impatient when the other woman remained quiet.

“You said you were going to make me remember,” said Jalice. “At first, I thought they were dreams. How could the Black House be real?” She inhaled through her nose and swallowed the drainage running down her throat. “But then I saw them kiss . . .” She trailed off. “And I knew it was real. I remembered.”

“Who kissed?”

Jalice took a moment to bask in Annilasia’s ignorance. For once, the tillishu was in the dark.

“Never mind,” she said, shaking her head. “There’s something strange happening, and I know you’re responsible for it. These cursed memories keep bombarding me without warning. I have to relive it several times before it finally ends and I return to reality.”

“I’m taking you to someone who can make these flashbacks stop,” said Annilasia. “But you’ll keep the memories. They’re freed now—or at least, the ones you’ve remembered so far.”

Bitterness swelled like an ulcer inside Jalice. “That’s all you care about, isn’t it? That I remember these damn memories.” Jalice craned her neck so her eyes could pierce Annilasia. “Is this why you kidnapped me? To prove my blame?”

Annilasia’s face darkened with irritation. “I’m fixing what you broke. Freeing your memories was the first step in that process.”

Jalice turned away and closed her eyes. No more tears. She didn’t want to cry anymore. She squeezed her eyes tight against the water swelling against her eyelids.

“I’m scared, Annilasia,” whimpered Jalice. She shook her head. “I’m scared of what these memories are leading to. And it’s more than remembering. Ever since I woke up, it’s as if a veil has lifted. Memories I once cherished now appear corroded. Years of experiences tainted.”

“So, what do you remember?”

Jalice grew quiet as she mustered the energy to respond. “I remember finding the Black House. I went inside and . . .” She fidgeted with her ring and sighed. “There are pieces missing. I know we left the crater and vowed never to speak of what we’d found.”

Annilasia leaned forward. “Is that all?”

“I haven’t seen anything past that.” The kiss between Kerothan and Hydrim returned to Jalice’s mind, but she stayed silent. She hugged herself, willing the dam of tears to hold. “I’m going to see more memories, aren’t I? Whatever you’ve started won’t stop now.” She sniffled but still managed to hold back her tears. “I have to go back.”

“Go back where?” asked Annilasia in a weary tone.

“To the Black House,” Jalice whispered. “Every time I try to recall the rest of what happened, I hit some sort of mental wall. My mind sputters out, and pain erupts in my head. But I need to remember.”

Jalice averted her gaze from Annilasia, certain the tillishu now held a look of disgust. Jalice didn’t really care anymore though. She was done letting the tillishu frighten her into submission. Perhaps Annilasia had been right about many things, but Jalice was no longer her puppet.

“Fine,” Annilasia huffed. “We’ll go back.”

“Really?” asked Jalice. She reluctantly turned to Annilasia, who appeared rigid. “I thought you’d disagree.”

“If it means you remembering,” said Annilasia dryly, “then I’ll drag you to the edge of the universe and dangle you over it like a fish out of water.”

The sting in those words was lost on Jalice. She stared at the ceiling and contemplated the gravity of her decision. Annilasia’s meddling in her mind had stirred up something inside her—a deep yearn to return to the Black House. The prospect frightened her. Her mind had purged the place for a reason, and she couldn’t help but wonder if going back would only make everything worse.