Mercy (7 page)

Atara didn’t stay long after that.

Pux returned to Evennses because he was the only one left. Luenelle, Grimand, even Lorus didn’t make it back. Desaunius fled. Evennses became empty. The kinfolk needed someone to train them and at first it was laughable. The Great Oak didn’t believe in Pux, but as time passed, he realized nobody else was going to do it. Kaliel sentenced them to a fate worse than death. Instead of defeating the Valtanyana she gave them everything they wanted. And they killed everyone that might have known how to stop them.

Pux lifted his head, looking at the sky and the half circle of trees against the midnight blue. He stood, his mind alive with the history of the past nine hundred years. He stepped off the porch and quickened his pace through the grass, thinking about the children they took for their wars in the Lands of Beasts. He reached another break in the trees and paused, thinking about the food, clothing and crafts they stole from the people of Orlondir. They destroyed the Brotherhood of Amersil, and Morgana forever desecrated the Sisterhood of Araraema, interweaving herself into their history.

Pux wended down the path, an old story rumbling in his bones. About a hundred and fifty years ago, seven hundred and fifty after the apocalypse Kaliel brought, something happened. Morgana gave up on her Horsemen but the Lands of Men were a disaster. She considered Avristar her island and began bringing humans to the shores of Araraema, all of them young girls. Pux saw some of them at the Fire Festivals. He couldn’t mistake them with their stringy blonde hair, dull eyes, and sallow skin. They didn’t shine the way the feorn, fae, shee, centaur, and elvens did. They couldn’t dance or carry a tune either. Morgana came with them, often calling them her ladies. It seemed the entire Sisterhood had become Morgana’s pet.

Pux had heard whispers at the Elmare Castle. There was a new King on Terra, a powerful King prophesied to rid the Lands of darkness. The elders of the merfolk gave him a sword, something enchanted from their land.

He used it to kill Morgana.

Pux stopped, taking a deep breath as he stepped into the meadow where Desaunius’s cottage lay. It was nothing but a mound of flowers now, and on top of it was a large tomb. Pux climbed the mound and stood beside it, brushing leaves off the glass casket. The King almost died in the battle against Morgana but Melianna brought him to Avristar with the Kiirar of the Shee. Collectively they used their magic to put him in a trance—a forever trance. Pux put his hand on the glass. He was nothing but a human, deep wrinkles set in his skin, whitish gray hair, full beard. His arms were crossed on his chest and he wore the finest red cloak. Pux tried to stave off the cascade of emotions festering within him but it was too hard.

One hero.

Kaliel destroyed everything and from the ashes of her destruction came one hero.

One in nine hundred years.

***

Chapter 8
The Not so New Guy at School

Maeva slung the black checkered backpack over her shoulder and slammed out the back door. Her sneakers clacked along the stones as she hummed along to the tune on her iPhone. She paused at the edge of her parent’s yard, tapping her foot in rhythm with the music, waiting for the song to end. She did this a lot, often starting a song while getting dressed or eating breakfast, and wanting to listen to it before strapping her iPhone in its waterproof case. Most of the other kids would walk to school with the music blaring in their ears, but unfortunately, Maeva had to be pragmatic about her electronics. Her dad was nice enough to get her the iPhone in the first place; she had to be nice enough not to drop it in the lake.

She glanced around the yard, taking in the big evergreen on the left, and the few trees on the right. The grass was salted with dry grainy leaves, some of them purplish, others orange. Nobody else really lived on Goat Island. They had a neighbor, but the yards weren’t defined like they were in Kenora with fences and property lines. It was sort of understood that where the house ended and the forest became too thick to walk through was where the line was.

The song ended as Scott came ricocheting out of the house, sliding his backpack over his shoulders and jogging to the pier. He was simultaneously trying to unscrew the lid off his PowerAde and Maeva turned; her eyes wide as he brushed past her and threw his backpack into his canoe. Hers was better but then she had to pay for it herself. Scott didn’t say anything as he took a long swig of the PowerAde and untied the canoe. He began cutting a quick path through the water.

Maeva found her feet and followed him, going through the same motions until she was dipping the paddle into the water in even successions. She switched sides with each stroke and regulated her breathing. She passed a small island on her left, Canniff Island, and stopped rowing. The canoe slid gracefully towards St. Mary Bay where the harbor was. The other annoying thing about Scott was that he was younger than her and didn’t have his license yet. His jock friends came to pick him up every day. Maeva didn’t relish the cat calls in her direction.

Scott tied up his canoe against their family’s dock just as she pulled up. He straightened when she approached and paused, throwing a smirk in her direction. Her stomach clenched in knots. She recognized that look, it was Scott’s classic I’m-going-to-play-a-trick-on-you look. She glowered.

“Don’t even think about it,” she said her voice raspy for early morning.

Scott smiled; the whole thing lighting up his face. “Morning to you, too.” He walked down the labyrinth of docks to the shoreline and Maeva shook her head, relieved to see Scott at fifteen was a bit better than Scott at thirteen. She squinted as the sun broke the trees and caught her in the face with a natural brightness. She held up a hand as she scrambled to tie up her boat and get out. Scott was a silhouette; standing with a group of guys sipping PowerAde as they meandered towards the parking lot. Maeva almost tripped over her shoelace as she grabbed her backpack. Her eyes widened as she did a quick save, pulling it away from the ledge of the dock. Her heart jolted and she closed her eyes taking a deep breath before standing and slinging it over her shoulder. She didn’t like the docks at St. Mary Harbor because there were a lot of them and they floated farther away from the shore than she cared to be. The one at her house was small so the chances of losing her footing and falling in were nil.

Here, with the main piers and all the small docks jutting off of them was like a tight rope and she had to work hard at keeping her balance just to get to the shore. Her stomach was sludge as she reached it, and passed the group of guys on the way to her Sundance.

She loved the car. She didn’t expect her dad to do anything for her but when they moved to the island the question of mobility became an issue. After a long discussion, Scott got a canoe and she got a car. It was nothing special, made in ninety-two, and barely worth a thousand dollars. It had rust spots all over the place, making the silver paint look grayish. She had a problem with the ignition too, which turned into a backwards security feature. She unhooked the keys from the stuffed bird key chain attached to her zipper and unlocked the front door. She pulled up the lock to the back door and put her backpack on the seat. She sighed. Scott and his friends were done with the morning banter and were getting into their nicer cars on the far side of the parking lot.

Maeva opened the backpack, feeling for the small metal cylinder. It wasn’t there. She frowned, checked the bag a second time, and laughed at herself, rolling her eyes. She slammed both doors shut, twirling her keys on her key ring as she crossed the lot and went in through the service door to Earl’s Garage. It smelled like oil, tires and gasoline, an old boom box blaring classic rock. Earl was bent over a Caravan. Maeva knocked on the long blue counter, separating customers from employees and Earl glanced her way.

“Mornin’ darling,” he drawled, his Native American accent shining through. His family was once part of the reserves in the area, but most of them had migrated to Kenora and surrounding area, working regular jobs. Earl opened the garage on a bunch of government grants. He was tall, his leathery skin wrinkled. He used to have long black hair but his favorite story was the one about how it all burned up in some house fire he barely escaped. Now it was short, growing out amidst the scars on his skull. Maeva shifted foot-to-foot, not comfortable with the darling part of the greeting.

“Morning, Earl,” she returned as cordially as possible, looking at her shoes.

Earl came over to the desk and Maeva heard papers shuffling around. “I know what ya came for.”

Maeva felt a blush creep up her cheeks, embarrassed. “Yeah well, I can’t really get to school …” she trailed off, not meeting his thick brown eyes. She jumped as something hit the counter with a jolt.

“You should let me fix it,” Earl said, shooting her a glare. He smoothly grabbed his shirt pocket and slid out a cigarette. That was the other smell Maeva couldn’t stand. She gave him a half smile.

“How much did you say it would cost?”

Earl removed the cigarette from his lips while searching his pockets for a lighter. “A hundred and fifty, like I said before. You got the part so it’s just labor.”

Maeva laughed. “I think I’ll be fine. It still runs.” She turned to the door and as she pushed it open she heard Earl’s voice behind her.

“You know my number for when you break down, darling.”

She let the door fall shut as she crossed the lot. She dropped into the front seat, sliding the metal cylinder into the ignition case. She pushed the key into it and the Sundance rumbled to life. She smiled at the slightly musty smell, a song from the only cassette tape she owned drowning out the roar of the car. The time said two minutes to eight so she pulled it into drive and eased onto the gas pedal.

Streets in this part of Kenora were confusing. If they weren’t paved they had this black shale gravel that didn’t look or feel like regular gravel covering the road. She passed the golf course before turning towards the main highway, emerging somewhere near the Wal-Mart. School was on the north side of town, and she lived on the south side. She passed the tourist district, and Red Boot, the restaurant she worked at. The song changed as she passed City Hall, a quaint rustic red brick building with sandy stone steps.

By the time she reached Steph’s house it was quarter after eight. She honked and waited, singing along to the tune. She eyed the paved driveway, the yellow patches of grass and the white railing to the porch. Steph lived in a blue bungalow, a few doors down from where Maeva used to live in a split-level. She imagined Steph scrambling to finish her makeup.

The front door opened and a perfect blonde stepped onto the porch. Steph had a khaki book bag over her shoulder, white capris, white flats, and a pink brand-named tank top. She slid sunglasses over her eyes and pulled out a piece of gum as she opened the door, brushing off the passenger seat before sitting. Maeva switched the radio to some dance music station, not even recognizing the song.

“Ugh,” Steph began, her usual monologue about to drip off her tongue. “Do you think we have time to stop for coffee before school? I mean we’ll probably be late, but I need coffee.”

Maeva gulped and shot her a look. “It’s already eight. The line is going to be forty-five minutes long. We’ll miss all of first period.”

Steph smiled and cracked her gum, seeming to consider it. Maeva hoped she would find sanity soon. Her only friend was great, but they were so different it was hard to believe the friendship had lasted. Stephanie was this blonde bombshell that didn’t have a boyfriend because of a braces disaster back in seventh grade. Red Boot was the only thing they had in common anymore. Maeva liked Steph better when all she was worried about was which My Little Pony she was getting for her birthday and when they were going to North Shore Camp. Since seventh grade Steph had morphed into the creature from the beauty lagoon. Sometimes she wondered if the only reason they were still friends was because Maeva had a car.

“Fine. No coffee,” Steph said, glancing at Maeva. “Please tell me you’re not really wearing that scrubby sweater.”

Maeva laughed as she pulled away and continued down Valley towards school. “Unfortunately I have to do that canoeing thing before school.”

Steph let out a breath like she was perpetually mortified by the idea of canoeing to and from school. She held her hands to her chest. “That’s right! Do you want to keep some of your clothes at my house and get here early so I can make you look fantastic?” She sounded sarcastic but Maeva knew her well enough to know this was Steph’s version of being nice, even if nice also came off as patronizing, judgmental and snobby.

Maeva paused at the yield, sighing at the cars zipping by. She had to merge somehow but this time of the day it was a tight squeeze to get onto the road. “I look okay.” She shrugged.

Steph sat back, playing with the radio and her iPod trying to get them to sync. She’d tried that many times before but the Sundance was so ancient it was practically a classic. “Exactly,” Steph said raising her eyebrows.

Maeva rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to meet anyone at school.” That was true, Maeva had known most of the kids in her class since elementary, Kenora being one of those fifteen thousand person towns that people visited, but nobody moved to. Tourist season was the only time she felt alive in Kenora, with people from all over the world coming to visit.

Last summer Steph had a crush on a guy from Rome who came to the area because of some travel brochure. He ate at the diner every day, taught Steph Italian words, and invited her to go home with him. To Rome. Her parents didn’t approve. Maeva hoped her luck would change and one day the guy of her dreams would walk through the diner doors and sit in her section. Her mind wandered briefly to the bright blue eyes and she pulled the car into traffic, narrowly cutting off someone behind her. They honked and she pushed the gas pedal as hard as she could, begging the Sundance to gain a little speed.

Steph was inspecting her gel nails when she had a chance to look over at Maeva. “Speaking of meeting people, there were some British guys in the diner the other day.” She stopped filing and shifted so that she could pull down the visor, half because the sun was blinding them and half to check her reflection.

“Isn’t it a little late for tourists?” Maeva asked.

Steph let out a guffaw. “Exactly what I thought. Anyway, they were really weird. The younger guy was scary as fuck and the old guy was quiet.”

Maeva glanced at her, something in her churning, her throat constricted. “Did anything happen?” She forced the words out, not taking her eyes off the road. She took a right and began weaving through the small student parking lot looking for a spot.

“No, they ordered, left. The young guy was all punk, not wannabe punk like he just stepped out of The Crypt, but like he actually meant it.”

Maeva felt hot. She parked a spot at the edge of the lot, turned off the Sundance and pulled out the key and hunk of metal in one. It was warm. Steph regarded it like it might sprout wings and fly at her face, but Maeva stuffed it into her backpack before Steph could say anything. She couldn’t believe the boy in the forest had also been in the diner. Not during her shift obviously, but there, meaning she wasn’t crazy and he was real. She didn’t know what to think of the old guy, maybe his father, or something but she didn’t need to press Steph for details. The other girl would share them all before lunch. Maeva tried not to trip over her own foot as she rounded the car and noticed exhaust spewing from the pipe.

Steph looked at her from the other side of the trunk. “Uh … I think your car is still on.”

Maeva sighed and shifted her backpack grabbing the ignition and the keys. “I thought I did it right, hang on.” She went back to the driver’s side. She had to sit down so she could fit the ignition in, and then tried shutting off the car. She swiveled and leaned out the open door. “Is it off?”

“Yeah,” Steph called.

Maeva pulled the ignition out and hand locked her doors, making sure they were all shut before picking her backpack off the asphalt and following Steph across the lot.

“Anyway,” Steph began. “Halfway through serving them I noticed a knife on the guy’s belt, a knife!” They hit the front doors, Steph holding one open for Maeva who fought for breath as they passed through the air-conditioned halls.

“Did he say anything?”

Steph slowed so they were walking in sync, Steph on her right side. “No, and I didn’t ask. I swear it was like something off Crime Lords. I wanted to get them their food and let them leave as quickly as possible.”

“Why were they there?” Maeva wondered aloud, her mind on the boy with the sapphire eyes, deep blue flecks star bursting through the crystal.

Steph shrugged as they passed another row of lockers. “Your guess is as good as …” She grabbed Maeva’s arm digging her nails in and jerked her towards the lockers. Maeva glanced at the office windows as she lost her balance, almost crashing into Steph as she found her feet. Steph hissed loudly in her ear to be quiet as she avoided banging into a locker.