Tell Me My Name (7 page)

The master reaches one hand toward
him. “Come, my boy,” he says, his tone surprisingly gentle.
“Punishing you brings me no joy, for it is my goal to watch you
triumph, not falter. But it appears the lessons I taught you
yesterday weren’t enough to still your foolish thoughts, and I hope
that you will take my warnings seriously after this experience. Let
us go to the library, where the wisdom of our forefathers will set
you straight.”

He claps a hand on the
boy’s shoulder and leads him up the stairs. Darien follows without
a word, the strange look of confusion still coloring his
expression. I watch, guilt gnawing at my heart. This is the third
time he’s had to suffer because of me, and I didn’t do anything to
help him. Knowing that I
couldn’t
have because I’m trapped in a cell doesn’t make
the knowledge any less painful. But if he resents me for what
happened, he doesn’t show it. As he reaches the top of the stairs,
he looks back and meets my gaze, giving me a look whose meaning I
can’t decipher. His eyes are tilted, as if with sorrow, and yet
intense with unspoken purpose, though what that is, I can’t tell.
Then he vanishes from sight.

What did that look
mean?
I wonder.
Was he trying to tell me something?

He has a
name
, a part of me whispers, somewhat
accusingly, and I recall what the master had called to him, which
I’d almost forgotten in my horror.
Darien.
Knowing that brings me a
hint of gladness. His name might not be a particularly useful piece
of information, but it matters to me. Because, little as I know
about him,
he
matters to me.

He’s the only light I have.

A thought whispers:
I could use him. He seems sympathetic toward me –
if I plead with him, he might be willing to take the risk and help
me, even if it means facing his master’s wrath again.

He’s already sacrificed his own warmth
for me by giving me his cloak, and then spoke to me even after his
master explicitly forbade him to. I didn’t even ask for anything;
he must have wanted to bring me the comfort of companionship in his
own small way. My guess is that he possesses a deep-seated need to
help others, to be the hero. It wouldn’t be difficult to convince a
person like him to take his kindness one step further … to help me
escape.

The idea makes my blood
pump faster as I realize I
could
make this plan a reality if I wanted to. I could
tell Darien that he’s my only hope, that I’d be lost without him. I
could even weep, and appear every bit the helpless damsel, in need
of a strong young man like him to save me. From the way he stood up
for me, I don’t think he’d be able to resist coming to the rescue.
And if we’re caught … maybe he’d consider it an honor to endure
whatever his master inflicted upon him, as long as he saw himself
as the hero.

But if I did that, if I took advantage
of him in such a way, what would that make me?

My mind recoils at the thought of
intentionally wilting into a tearful fool, of surrendering any
dignity I have left to a cold-hearted scheme. It would be all too
easy, but every instinct tells me that I can’t use another human
being purely for my own gain. If I did, I would truly be the
monster his master fears I am. How could I even consider
it?

A sharp complaint from my stomach
yanks my head back to my immediate needs. I pull open the edges of
the brown sack Darien gave me and, seeing a bread roll inside, grab
it and immediately take a bite. I didn’t realize how famished I was
until now, and I devour the rest with ravenous speed and wash it
down with the entire canteen of water.

My hunger satisfied and my thirst
relieved, I place the empty brown sack on the floor and pick up the
cloak again. Wrapping it around myself, I start to stand, then
glimpse a face glaring down at me and yelp in shock. I instantly
recognize the Sorci master, standing outside the cell’s window.
Terrified that he’ll cast his fire-laden spell on me again, I
scramble backward. My heart clenches and hammers at the same time,
and I inhale deeply to try to calm it.

He raises his hand, and I cower in the
cloak and squeeze my eyes.

Nothing happens. I blink and
cautiously turn back to the window. He’s still there, holding his
hand by his face. But his snake-like eyes aren’t looking at me –
they appear glazed over, as though he’s in a trance. His lips move,
but no sound comes out.

Then a warm current of air washes over
me. It would have been comforting if I weren’t certain it came from
the Sorci master’s spell.

The need for information defeats my
terror, however, and I ask, “What are you doing?”

He continues moving his lips, but
otherwise remains still. Several moments pass, and I wait. But then
my patience grows short. I deserve to at least know why I’ve been
imprisoned like this.

I start toward him, intending to tell
him so, but barely make it half a step before his attention turns
back to me. He flicks his wrist in a circular motion, and I feel
myself thrust backward into the wall, the breath knocked from my
lungs. I collapse to the floor, my vision swimming and my body
aching.

Before I can even look back at him,
pain surges through me. Instead of heat, this time, it’s a million
tiny claws scratching at my insides, and they’re shredding me, like
there are innumerable monsters trapped in my gut trying to tear
their way free. I writhe in agony, and my own shrieks pierce my
ears.

“
Stop!” I cry, barely able
to manage the word. I want to say that I’ll do whatever he asks, as
long as he lifts this curse, but my ability to speak is lost in my
screams of terror and pain.

The invisible claws rip at my flesh,
and I’m sure if I were to open my eyes, I’d see my own blood pooled
before me. They slash at every inch of my body, inside and out, as
if they’re trying to tear the flesh from my bones. The sheer agony
blinds and deafens any other perceptions I might have; the pain has
devoured my entire being, leaving nothing but my
screams.

Then it disappears. Like before, it
vanishes so completely that only the tears streaking my cheeks give
evidence to its existence. And though I see no physical wounds on
my skin, I feel once again as if the life has been drained from me.
My limbs are heavy, my vision swims, and my head wants to sink into
the ground.

I wipe my eyes and turn to the window,
where the Sorci master is still staring at me.

“
If you dare try to bewitch
my apprentice again,” he growls, “I will bring you such torment,
you’ll beg for death.”

His words impale me as powerfully as
his spell did, and I shake so much that not even tensing my jaw can
keep my teeth from clattering. When I was under that curse, I would
have done anything to make it stop. The thought of facing pain like
that again – or something worse – makes tears of terror spill from
my eyes.

Then anger jolts me as I
realize what he’s accusing me of. I never asked Darien for anything
– how could the master blame
me
for the actions of another? How could he punish
me for a crime I didn’t commit? My heart cries out at the
injustice, and, forgetting my own weakness, I stand and face
him.

“
I haven’t done anything!”
I shout.

He curls his lip with disgust, as if
my words are the foulest lies he’s ever heard. “You and your kind
are a plague upon humanity! You brought disaster to man in the
past, and I won’t let you do it again here.”

“
What did I do?” I stride
up to the window. My legs quiver, and my head whirls, but I ignore
them. “If I’m some kind of monster, then
tell me
!”

But instead of answering, the Sorci
master breaks his gaze and stalks away.

“
Stop!” Though I know he’ll
ignore my words as he did before, I have to say them. I have to
try. “You can’t just lock me up without a reason! Tell me why
you’ve trapped me here!
Tell me what you
want from me!
”

The Sorci master continues toward the
staircase, and suddenly my anger turns to desperation. I have to
know what’s going on here, or I might go mad with the wondering. I
grab the bar in the window and pull myself forward until the jagged
edge digs into my collarbones.

“
Just tell me
something!
Anything!
” My voice feels hoarse from all my screaming, but I might as
well be mouthing nothingness for all the reaction the magician
gives me. “Tell me who I am! Tell me my name!” My chest heaves with
involuntary sobs, and though I inhale deeply to keep them at bay, I
can’t stop them from rising. “
Just tell me
my name!
”

“
Enough!” His voice
explodes through the dungeon, and he abruptly spins to face me,
then marches toward the cell with his fist raised.

Terror courses through me, but I
remain where I am and clench my jaw in an attempt to suppress my
sobs. “Please–”

“
Silence!” He cuts me off
with his great shout, and a hot gust of air slams against me,
throwing me back.

My head bangs against the wall, and
the world goes black.

Soft green grass
covers
the ground, cool against my toes.
The air is so warm, I can taste the freshness of spring on the
breeze. There is joy here. And serenity. I don’t know where I am,
but right now, it doesn’t matter. All I know is that this is a
place where I’m safe. In fact, it might be my favorite place in the
world. Inhaling deeply, I take a second to savor the feeling of
contentment that surrounds me.

Having allowed myself a
moment, I bring my focus back to my surroundings, to see where I
actually am.

I find myself standing in
a small grove. The twisting branches and billowing leaves of tall
trees nearly block the blue sky. But these are no ordinary trees.
The branches of each one reach toward those of another,
intertwining like they’re holding hands. At first I think the limbs
must be very thick, but as I look closer, I notice that what I took
to be heavy branches are actually several small ones, each about
the width of my finger, weaving together into intricate braids of
brown and gray.

Sitting atop them is an
array of hardcover books, with gilt lettering down their spines.
That’s odd – why are there books sitting outside instead of in a
library where they belong? And they don’t look like they’ve been
left out by accident, since there are so many of them neatly lined
up.

I tilt my head and try to
read the titles, but the letters blur and jumble before my eyes,
denying me their meaning. What is this place? It feels familiar,
like I’ve been here many times before, but I can’t recall
why.

An uncanny sensation
strikes my mind, and I realize that this too is a dream.

Or could it be
more?

Something significant must
lie between the pages of those books, or I don’t think I’d be here.
Their words must carry some importance, and I reach toward one,
intending to find out what.

Suddenly a wave of mist
assaults my vision, and the air crackles with heat as the silver
haze I saw in the last dream reaches toward me, searing my skin
with its invisible touch. Knowing I have to escape, I turn and run
as fast as I can, but the mist chases me, swirling around the trees
and climbing over the branches.

Then a thought strikes me:
The mist is trying to keep me away from those books. Whatever
knowledge they carry in their pages, someone doesn’t want me to see
it. Which makes it all the more important that I do.

I stop running. The
unbearably hot mist engulfs me, but I grit my teeth against the
pain. I take a deep breath, which turns out to be a great mistake,
for the scorching air fills my lungs, burning me from the inside
out. My agony is so great that I want to curl into a ball and
weep.

But I can’t. I have to
find out what’s in those books. Something in my heart – something
that I don’t understand, but know I must heed – tells me that my
life could depend on it. I have to listen, if I’m to save
myself.