Dirt (The Dirt Trilogy) (8 page)

Awakening from a deep stupor, I still smell my disgust like the
pet of a cruel, neglectful family. I hear chatter coming down the
stairwell. “Okay, later,”
a
husky
feminine voice
responds
to
someone. A woman covered in black brings dry bread and putrid
water.

“
Here, Secret. Eat up.” Her slick blond hair is pulled tightly in
a bun, raising her eyebrows as if she’s had a botched face lift. She
hands me a cup made of mirrored glass providing me a view of my
worn reflection; a reminder of my predicament. I look horrible and
I need to go to the restroom. Maybe the female guard will be more
agreeable.

“
Hey, I need to go to the bathroom.”
“Shut it up. You’re not coming out of there,” she barks. I don’t
know why I thought she might be more understanding. After all,
she is one of them.
She sits outside my cell. I guess she’s supposed to watch me,
making sure I eat something.
“There has to be a bathroom in this God-forsaken place.”
“All right, all right. But no funny business. There’s only three
more days till … well, just don’t try anything.”
Three more days.
I must have slept through the last few days
again. The way things are going, I’ll be dead tomorrow.
The gangly woman unlocks the door and grabs me by the arm.
Even with her small frame, she has the same strength as the male
guards. She jerks me out and we ascend upstairs.
I take a quick glance at my paintings from Bran’s class. As the
original work of my family dissolves, another oil illustration comes
forth, morphing quickly as colors merge to form an image of me
walking up the staircase. Then it dissolves back into the boring
image of my previous existence. I stare briefly at the picture of my
home, a pile of ashes emerge and then briskly disappear back to the
original state of mediocre artwork. As we walk up five flights of
stairs I realize the paintings were Bran’s way of watching me. He
had me paint those pictures in order to keep track of me. That was
his role in my capture. The paintings are Straif’s security cameras.
My
pace
slows,
preoccupied in thought as we
pass the
paintings. “Move it.”
The
female
guard
starts
down a
long
passageway. Almost every inch of wall up to the height of the
towering ceilings are covered in art. These pieces, however, don’t
hold any secrets I can uncover. They hold only beauty.
She walks through a large wooden door.“Come on.” I hesitate
into the bathroom as she stands there watching me.
“I can’t go while you’re in here.” She folds her arms across her
chest. “Where am I going to go? Really?” I guess she doesn’t really
want to be in here with me either.
“Take care of your business. And make it fast,” she says and
struts out of the bathroom, her black robe chasing behind her.
I use the restroom and wash up in the sink. The plumbing is
different than what I’m used to. The cool water runs out of the
rocky walls into a basin refreshing my skin. There are no towels, so
I use the bottom of my ragged brown t-shirt. The mirror over the
sink is cracked and a vibration away from shattering to the floor,
but I’m able to make out the reflection of the window behind me.
It’s small, but it’s still an opening to the outside.
“Hurry up in there!” Helga, or whatever her name is, bangs on
the door while yelling at me.
“I’ll only be a minute. I’m washing up.” I stall for time. I find a
long, slender piece of stone on the floor. I shove it in the latch
preventing the door from opening. The window is my only chance
for an escape. The hammering at the door grows louder as my guard
tries to get inside. I climb on the back of the toilet seat and reach for
the window latch. There aren’t any bars keeping me in. I don’t
think they have prisoners often. Maybe, I’m the only one they’ve
ever had.
“Open this door!” A man’s dark voice insists. I unlock the
window and try to pull myself out.
“Kick the door in!” someone yells. Pounding rings through the
planks of the wooden door.
I grab the outside window’s rim and feel the flesh of my palms
tear from a razor sharp edge. Black thorns surround the edge of the
window’s seal.
Yeah, they’ve had prisoners here before and this is
how they keep them.
Blood streams down my forearms dripping in
my face. Pain sears through my hands. Splinters of wood bounce
off the door as pounding rattles the room.
My heart
sinks
when
I
hear
Straif’s voice. “Stand back,
incompetent fools.” And the door blasts open.

I was stronger than that, or at least I thought I was. Her kiss
was more powerful than any force I’ve ever encountered. Stronger
than any energy I’ve ever defeated, but more wonderful than
anything I’ve ever wanted. Yes, I failed, but I don’t care. I want
her. I want all of her.

As I enter the tent my heart breaks. They took her during the
night through a fresh slit in the back of the hut. I fall to my knees on
the ruffled mat and notice the tracks in the dirt floor. She was
dragged out of here. Thoughts of what her condition might be puts a
fear in me I don’t recognize. Until now, I haven’t known how it
feels to lose. There’s an emptiness inside me; death in the living.

I
’ve got to get her back, but I can’t do it alone. By now, the
others know. Alder, Ruis, and Coll are probably headed here and
I’m sure Coll is happy I’ve failed. He has to be relishing in the fact
he was probably right; only if I hadn’t given in to my heart.

The sound of horse
’s wings announces my brethren’s arrival
and I’ll have to explain myself. The ground trembles as they land.
“What’s happened that we’ve been summoned?” Alder asks.
“They’ve taken her.”
“What? How could you let this happen? I knew it should have
been me!” Coll yells.
Coll is in disbelief, but underneath his tone is a secret pleasure.
He wants to be in my place so badly, but he has no idea where my
heart is.
“I let her sleep in privacy. I left her alone during the night and
The Thorn captured her. I never heard them.” Ruis, the youngest of
our group remains silent.
“Come, Rowen, we’ll return to Congramaid to prepare. We
will get her back,” Alder instructs. Our brotherhood is known for its
strength. Alder doesn’t scold or reprimand. “We have to focus our
energy on getting her back. We keep the news to ourselves to
prevent terror among the people. If those of Durt find out Ashe is in
the hands of The Thorn, fear and panic will overcome. Our job is to
keep the peace.”
I fly with Alder on his palomino, who is a tamer sort. Each
sentry
is assigned his
own horse
when he
passes
through
Congramaid. When riding another sentry’s horse, one has to be
respectful. Otherwise, the results can be tragic.
We head to Congramaid, the training center for sentries and
their horses. Although it’s good to see home, I need to be with
Ashe.
I can’t bear to think of someone harming her. A surge of fury
builds up in me. I know Straif won’t kill her now. It’s not yet time,
but I’m not sure what he’ll put her through while waiting for his
indulgence.
I let her down. I promised her I wouldn’t let anything happen
to her. I remember when I was sent to Congramaid, taken from
family, my parents. Emptiness filled me then. I felt so alone. So
without. That’s how I feel now.
Caring for a female is against everything I’ve ever been taught.
I was taught to love, but not to fall in love. That’s like breathing
without air; like eating without taste, living without life. I never
realized how empty my life was until I met Ashe. Now, she’s
invaded my soul there’s no turning back.
As we fly over Congramaid, younger sentries train in the fields.
They look up at us and wave toward the sky. Being a sentry is more
than a job. It’s a life of sacrifice, celibacy, and commitment to
rules. These boys look up to us. A sickness invades my stomach
because I’m living a lie, a disappointment to those who appointed
me and what’s worse—I don’t care.
Alder and
Ruis load their gear. Saille, the
stable master,
brushes Ruamna down for me. She’s a deep red sorrel, almost a
chestnut about seventy-five years old, not quite full grown. That
horse knows me better than I know myself. Her back is the safest

Coll struts up, his head held high with shoulders back to
exaggeration. He gives me the silent treatment and the creases in
the corner of his eyes reveal agitation. I can’t really blame him.

His black stallion stomps in place unable to stand still. His
personality is a lot like his rider’s, edgy, hyper, and constantly
moving. Coll
is never
able
to relax. He’s always close to
combustion, but that’s what makes him Coll. Some might call him
passionate. I call him annoying. Nevertheless, we’re a part of the
same brotherhood, and no matter what, we’ll be there for one
another through thick or thin, life or death, right or wrong. That
doesn’t mean we have to agree on everything. When it comes to
Coll and me, there’s no agreement on anything.

“
I hope you know what we are up against, my brothers. This is
not going to be easy and we have no choice but to be successful,”
Alder says.

Our leader is the tallest of our brethren. He
’s slow to anger.
Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him excited. He deals with
whatever problem, whatever dilemma we encounter with calm and
decisiveness.

“
When we get to the caverns we’ll split up in twos. I assume
that’s where they’ve taken her. They wouldn’t risk moving her at a
time like this.” Alder speaks of her matter-of-factly. “Are you all
right, Rowen?”

I guess my feelings are starting to show on my face. Alder
trained with us and he’s in charge for a reason. His instincts are
beyond anything I’ve ever seen. He has the gift of reading another’s
feelings, but he can’t decipher the feelings I have now. He has
never known love. At least, I don’t think he has. That has to be a
difficult thing to live with—always knowing how someone else
feels and having to separate from it.

“
Yeah, I’m all right.” Coll stares me down as I lie; another
thing I took an oath not to do. He knows I’m hiding something.
Does love write itself on your face? Can everyone tell by looking at
me? Iknow I’ll be discovered sooner or later.

We fly for a couple of hours when we meet the peaks of the Li
Sula Mountains. Hiding beneath them are the Conal Cuan Caverns.
We land in a valley south of the mountain range.

“
Rowen and Coll, you go through the east entrance and we’ll
go west,” Alder says. Ruis is young and his powers have not yet
fully molded, so Alder keeps him in sight. All faeries have powers
or gifts as some call them. But our abilities are ones that originate
from our spirit not from physicality.

“
Follow me,” Coll blurts taking over. I don’t argue; it’s not
worth it. All Coll knows is what I’ve known; a mission and the
Code
of
Sentries. No one
has
ever broken the
code
so, the
consequences of my feelings are on untested ground. I hope Ashe is
not paying the price for my weakness.