Falling Ashes (9 page)

Cursing under my breath, I turned back to the window, contemplating how I would tackle the obstacle. Placing my hands on the ledge, I attempted to hoist myself up using my bare feet as leverage against the moist tiles. I slipped, smacking my chin on the windowsill, tasting blood.

Spitting the blood out of my mouth and splattering it against the stark white wall, I tried again. Supporting my weight on my forearms, I managed to propel myself upwards using the balls of my feet against the wall. I was slightly out of breath due to the pressure on my ribs, but I’d made it halfway out.

That was when I heard heavy footsteps thundering up the spiral staircase; at least four pairs of boots pounding through the shop. Mrs. Greenwood had caved and let the guards in.

Panic-stricken, I shimmied my way through the window, getting stuck at the hips. Luckily, the silk nightdress meant sliding through was relatively easier, or it would have been at least, if someone hadn’t grabbed me by the ankle.  To make matters worse, my nightdress was hitched far too high to be considered decent. But that didn’t matter right now. I clung to the roof tiles and kicked my legs wildly, hoping to dislodge myself from the man’s grip. His fingers were like a vice around my ankle. There was only one thing to do, and chances were I would feel bad about it later, for it would damage the Greenwood’s property along with the man who was trying to drag me into the house.

I set myself alight. I was a fireball; my skin crawling with hot, angry flames. The fire licked the windowsill, the white paint burning and peeling within seconds. The man relinquished the grip on my ankle immediately, accompanied by a howl of pain.

With one last heave, I managed to slide through the window and topple down the sloping roof, catching myself before I hit the gutter, the nightdress still on fire.

Staring over my shoulder, I watched as the guard tried to squeeze through the opening, but he was far too wide. His shoulders would not fit through. Cursing loudly, he yelled over his shoulder to the accompanying guards.

‘Back up, lads! She’s on the roof!’

This was no time to dawdle. Snatching up my bag and flinging it over my shoulder, I stood precariously on the edge of the slanted roof. Below me was a two-story drop into a dark alleyway; I would surely break my legs if I were to jump. However, the row of joined shops and apartments along this main street meant I could run along multiple roofs. There must be a way down somewhere.

There was no time to lose. I ran, my bare feet slapping against the tiles, and my nightdress smoking copiously. I lost my footing more than once, stumbling and tripping as I pelted along the rooftops. I could hear a commotion behind me. Chancing a look over my shoulder, I saw a much thinner man squeezing through the Greenwood’s bathroom window, cursing as he rolled down the tiles. He was not followed by his companions, which led me to believe that they had taken an alternate path. They could be anywhere. If one of them could jump, fly, or increase their size, I would be in a lot of trouble. My only hope was to make it to Hawthorne before they caught me.

I heard shouts in the street below, and I peered over the edge of the roof to see three men racing along the adjacent street.

‘There she is!’ one of the men bellowed. ‘I see her! On top of the blacksmith’s shop!’

Lingering was a bad idea. Stepping away from the edge, I ran as fast as I could. The end was in sight. I hoped that there would be a way down. A dumpster, a cart – anything.

I made it to the end of the row and skidded to a halt before I toppled over the edge. Looking down, I saw nothing but hard stone below - not even a ladder to climb down. I was cornered.

Spinning around, I saw the thin man who had climbed through the Greenwood’s bathroom window slipping and sliding his way towards me. He was not as agile as I had been. Perhaps being shoeless had benefitted me, rather than hindered my progress.  His wide, heavy boots had no grip on the layered tiles.

Despite his clumsiness, I was stuck two stories high with no way down. He would catch me within a matter of seconds, and if I jumped, I would surely break something.

I looked around for something,
anything,
to aid me in my escape, igniting my hands at the same time. I knew the fire would act as a signal to the other guards, but it was my only defense.

‘Stay back!’ I warned as the thin man drew closer. He slowed to a jog as he approached, stopping mere meters from me. ‘Come any closer, and I’ll burn you to a crisp.’

‘Don’t do anything silly now. It’ll only get you into more trouble,’ he said, raising a hand. ‘Why don’t you step away from that ledge?’ He took a step closer.

‘I said stay back!’

I looked over my shoulder at the teetering edge behind me. The other guards had caught up and were loitering in the street below, like alligators in a swamp, waiting to be fed. I was the meat that hung on a hook above their heads.

There was nowhere to go. I couldn’t go down, forward, or back where I had come from.

At that moment, a shadow passed over, blocking the moonlight and throwing us into darkness. The thin man looked around for the source, but nothing could be found, and no clouds were in the sky. He dismissed it as a trick of the night and focused his attention on me, but I knew better. The temporary darkness had been a signal.

‘Sorry,’ I said to the thin man. ‘I really have to go now.’

‘And how do you plan on doing that?’ He could barely hide the sneer on his sunken face.

I took a step backwards so my heels were teetering over the edge, as if I were a diver preparing for a spectacular back-flip into a pool.

‘You’ll break your neck, kid,’ he said, his oversized adam’s apple bobbing noticeably as he gulped. ‘Not that it makes much difference to me. If you jump, it’ll be much easier to take you in.’

I put my hand to my forehead in a sarcastic salute and allowed myself to fall backwards from the roof. The air rushed past me, and all sound ebbed away for the split second I was falling. Something large and furry swooped beneath me, catching me in mid-fall. I clung to the long, white fur as we leapt into the air, taking flight immediately, leaving the stunned guards on the ground below.

I whooped and cheered with delight, throwing my leg over Hawthorne’s back and raising my arms in the air. The wind whipped through my damp hair, drying it quickly. This really was an excellent example of how in-tune Hawthorne was to my needs. He was the Yin to my Yang, and my gratitude did not need to be expressed for I knew he could feel it emanating from my very being.

It was time to leave Scyre, but I still had nowhere to go. Staying at an Inn or lodge was out of the question for I had no coin, and was sure to be recognised. The Realm had made it very hard for me to go anywhere unnoticed.

But then it occurred to me: Ræven. I could go to Ræven’s home in Frost Arch – she would take me in and look after me. I did not like the idea of going back there, but what choice did I have? I needed somewhere to stay.

‘Let’s go to Frost Arch,’ I called to Hawthorne, who looked over his shoulder wearily. ‘We’ll visit R
æven!’

Reluctantly, Hawthorne changed his direction, heading North.

I was extremely tired, and the cold wind against my eyeballs didn’t help much. It was becoming harder and harder to stay awake, and soon, I felt myself nodding off, straddling Hawthorne’s back as if he were a giant pillow. I wasn’t scared of sliding from his back because he was so vast, and my fingers were entwined through his fur.

Hawthorne landed in a large patch of farmland an hour later, and we slipped into an abandoned shed. The floor was littered with straw and grain, but at least we were warm and dry. It took mere minutes for me to fall asleep, buried in a large bundle of hay. I only hoped that I did not ignite the dry straw.

~

I was being poked - hard.

I groaned and rolled over, but the poking continued. Grumbling, I curled into the fetal position.

‘She’s alive,’ whispered a high voice.

‘I thought she was dead!’ said another.

It took a long time for me to realize that I did not know these voices. It took an even longer time to realize that I was not at home. 

I opened my eyes, which proved difficult as they were so congested with sleep they stuck together.

‘She’s waking up!’

‘Why do you think she slept in the barn?’ the high voice asked.

‘Maybe she’s homeless.’

‘Should we get Dad?’

‘No! What if he sends her away?’

‘She might be dangerous!’ 

‘
Girls
can’t be dangerous. They’re
girls
.’

‘Shut up! They can too be dangerous!’

I rubbed my eyes and peered around for the source of the voices. It was bright in the barn; light was streaming in through the open doors. Two silhouetted figures stood in front of me, one of them holding a long, wooden stick to poke me with. They were small, barely four foot each.

‘Who’s that?’ I grumbled.

One of them poked me with the end of the stick again.

‘Stop that,’ I said, agitated. I sat up, blinking in the bright sunlight. Slowly, my eyes focused to reveal the two small children that stood in front of me; a young boy who looked no older than eight, who was holding a long stick, and a little girl of about six who held a rag doll in her hands. Both of the children had dark hair that was extremely disheveled. They both looked underfed.

‘Are you dangerous?’ asked the little girl.

I looked between them. ‘Um … no.’

Suddenly, I remembered Hawthorne sleeping only a few feet from me. Surely the children would have noticed him. Why weren’t they afraid? I jumped up and looked around for Hawthorne, only to discover that once again, he was gone.

‘What’s the matter?’ asked the boy.

‘Did … did you see an animal?’ I asked, peering around the large bundle of hay.

‘What? Like a dog?’ he asked.

‘Um … yes, a big, white dog.’

The kids shook their heads. ‘Just you.’

Perhaps Hawthorne had heard the children and found a place to hide . Good thing too, otherwise they would have gone running for their parents.

‘What are you doing in our barn?’ asked the little girl, cradling her rag doll.

‘Um … I needed somewhere to sleep … sorry.’

‘
See
, I
told
you she was homeless,’ said the boy.

‘I’m gonna get Daddy,’ said the little girl, taking a step towards the door.

‘No!’ I said quickly. ‘Please, don’t.’

The children looked at me skeptically. They weren’t idiots.

‘Uh … what are your names?’ I asked.

‘Dad said not to tell strangers our names-’

‘I’m Annie,’ the girl said quickly, ignoring her brother. ‘Can we be friends?’

‘You’re not meant to tell strangers your name!’ the boy scolded his little sister.

‘Shut up, Hamish! I can do what I like!’

‘Oh great, now she knows my name, too. You’re so stupid, Annie!’

‘All right, all right!’ I said loudly, breaking up the banter. ‘Annie, and Hamish, is it?’

They nodded, sheepishly.

‘Okay … You’ve got to promise not to tell your Mum and Dad that I was here okay?’

‘Our Mum is dead,’ said Hamish, crossing his arms over his chest. ‘And Dad doesn’t like strangers on his farm.’

‘I like her, Hamish. Leave her alone.’ Annie stood next to me and whispered, ‘You can stay if you like. We can be friends.’

‘Well … thank you.’

‘How long will you stay?’ Hamish asked.

‘Oh, I just needed somewhere to rest for the night. I’m … well … going on a journey, you see-’

‘Like an adventure?’ asked Annie.

‘Uh, kind of, I guess.’ I really wanted to get rid of these kids so I could find Hawthorne and get away from this farm. Hopefully their father didn’t come looking for them.

I rummaged around in the hay for my rucksack, slinging it over my shoulder.

‘You’re not going already, are you?’ asked Annie.

‘I have to,’ I said, pulling a piece of straw out of my hair.

Annie frowned. ‘On your adventure?’

‘Yeah, something like that,’ I muttered.

‘I wish I could go on an adventure. It’s boring on the farm.’ Hamish sighed dramatically.

‘You can go on an adventure when you’re older,’ I told him. ‘But maybe you guys should go back to your house while I leave. I’m sure your Dad is wondering where you are.’

Hamish scoffed. ‘Pfft. He doesn’t care.’

I cursed internally. I did not want to get involved with these kids’ issues. I had enough to worry about.

‘Hamish! Annie!’ a deep voice boomed in the distance. The children froze, wide-eyed and terrified.

‘We’re not supposed to be in the barn!’ Annie gasped. ‘Daddy won’t let us.’

The male voice called again, closer this time.

‘He’s coming!’ squeaked Annie, clinging to her brother.