Ena of Ilbrea: The Four Book Saga

1 The c***k of the whip sent the birds scattering into the sky. They cawed their displeasure at the violence of the men below as they flew over the village and to the mountains beyond. The whip cracked again. Aaron did well. He didn't start to moan until the fourth lash. By the seventh, he screamed in earnest. No one had given him a belt to bite down on. There hadn’t been time when the soldiers hauled him from his house and tied him to the post in the square. I clutched the little wooden box of salve hidden in my pocket, letting the corners bite deep into my palm. The soldier passed forty lashes, not caring that Aaron’s back had already turned to pulp. I squeezed my way to the back of the crowd, unwilling to watch Aaron’s blood stain the packed dirt. Behind the rest of the villagers, children cowered in their mother’s skirts, hiding from the horrors the Guilds’ soldiers brought with them. I didn't know how many strokes Aaron had been sentenced to. I didn't want to know. I made myself stop counting how many times the whip sliced his back. Bida, Aaron’s wife, wept on the edge of the crowd. When his screams stopped, hers grew louder. The women around Bida held her back, keeping her out of reach of the soldiers. My stomach stung with the urge to offer comfort as she watched her husband being beaten by the men in black uniforms. But, with the salve tucked in my pocket, hiding in the back was safest. I couldn't give Bida the box unless Aaron survived. Spring hadn’t fully arrived, and the plants Lily needed to make more salves still hadn't bloomed. The tiny portion of the stuff hidden in my pocket was worth more than someone's life, especially if that person wasn’t going to survive even with Lily’s help. Lily’s orders had been clear―wait and see if Aaron made it through. Give Bida the salve if he did. If he didn’t, come back home and hide the wooden box under the floorboards for the next poor soul who might need it. Aaron fell to the ground. Blood leaked from a gash under his arm. The soldier raised his whip again. I sank farther into the shadows, trying to comfort myself with the beautiful lie that I could never be tied to the post in the village square, though I knew the salve clutched in my hand would see me whipped at the post as quickly as whatever offense the soldiers had decided Aaron had committed. When my fingers had gone numb from gripping the box, the soldier stopped brandishing his whip and turned to face the crowd. “We did not come here to torment you,” the soldier said. “We came here to protect Ilbrea. We came here to protect the Guilds. We are here to provide peace to all the people of this great country. This man committed a crime, and he has been punished. Do not think me cruel for upholding the law.” He wrapped the b****y whip around his hand and led the other nine soldiers out of the square. Ten soldiers. It had only taken ten of them to walk into our village and drag Aaron from his home. Ten men to tie him to the post and leave us all helpless as they beat a man who’d lived among us all his life. The soldiers disappeared, and the crowd shifted in toward Aaron. I couldn’t hear him crying or moaning over the angry mutters of the crowd. His wife knelt by his side, wailing. I wound my way forward, ignoring the stench of fear that surrounded the villagers. Aaron lay on the ground, his hands still tied around the post. His back had been flayed open by the whip. His flesh looked more like something for a butcher to deal with than an illegal healer like me. I knelt by his side, pressing my fingers to his neck to feel for a pulse. Nothing. I wiped my fingers on the cleanest part of Aaron’s shirt I could find and weaved my way back out of the crowd, still clutching the box of salve in my hand. Carrion birds gathered on the rooftops near the square, scenting the fresh blood in the air. They didn't know Aaron wouldn't be food for them. The villagers of Harane had yet to fall so low as to leave our own out as a feast for the birds. There was no joy in the spring sun as I walked toward Lily’s house on the eastern edge of the village. I passed by the tavern, which had already filled with men who didn’t mind we hadn't reached midday. I didn't blame them for hiding in there. If they could find somewhere away from the torment of the soldiers, better on them for seizing it. I only hoped there weren’t any soldiers laughing inside the tavern’s walls. I followed the familiar path home. Along our one, wide dirt road, past the few shops Harane had to offer, to the edge of the village where only fields and pastures stood between us and the forest that reached up the eastern mountains’ slopes. It didn’t take long to reach the worn wooden house with the one giant tree towering out front. It didn’t take long to reach anywhere in the tiny village of Harane. Part of me hated knowing every person who lived nearby. Part of me wished the village were smaller. Then maybe we’d fall off the Guilds’ maps entirely. As it was, the Guilds only came when they wanted to collect our taxes, to steal our men to fight their wars, or to find some other sick pleasure in inflicting agony on people who wanted nothing more than to survive. Or if their business brought them far enough south on the mountain road they had to pass through our home on their way to torment someone else. I allowed myself a moment to breathe before facing Lily. I blinked away the images of Aaron covered in blood and shoved them into a dark corner with the rest of the wretched things it was better not to ponder. Lily barely glanced up as I swung open the gate and stepped into the back garden. Dirt covered her hands and skirt. Her shoulders were hunched from the hours spent planting our summer garden. She never allowed me to help with the task. Everything had to be carefully planned, keeping the vegetables toward the outermost edges. Hiding the plants she could be hanged for in the center, where soldiers were less likely to spot the things she grew to protect the people of our village. The people the soldiers were so eager to hurt. “Did he make it?” Lily stretched her shoulders back and brushed the dirt off her weathered hands. I held the wooden box out as my response. Blood stained the corners. It wasn't Aaron's blood. It was mine. Cuts marked my hand where I’d squeezed the box too tightly. Lily glared at my palm. “You’d better go in and wrap your hand. If you let it get infected, I'll have to treat you with the salve, and you know we're running out.” I tucked the box back into my pocket and went inside, not bothering to argue that I could heal from a tiny cut. I didn't want to look into Lily's wrinkled face and see the glimmer of pity in her eyes. The inside of the house smelled of herbs and dried flowers. Their familiar scent did nothing to drive the stench of blood and fear from my nose. A pot hung over the stove, waiting with whatever Lily had made for breakfast. My stomach churned at the thought of eating. I needed to get out. Out of the village, away from the soldiers. I pulled up the loose floorboard by the stove and tucked the salve in between the other boxes, tins, and vials. I grabbed my bag off the long, wooden table and shoved a piece of bread and a waterskin into it for later. I didn't bother grabbing a coat or shawl. I didn't care about getting cold. I have to get out. I was back through the door and in the garden a minute later. Lily didn’t even look up from her work. “If you’re running into the forest, you had better come back with something good.” “I will,” I said. “I'll bring you back all sorts of wonderful things. Just make sure you save some dinner for me.” I didn’t need to ask her to save me food. In all the years I’d lived with her, Lily had never let me go hungry. But she was afraid I would run away into the forest and never return. Or maybe it was me that feared I might disappear into the trees and never come back. Either way, I felt myself relax as I stepped out of the garden and turned my feet toward the forest.