Authors: Kate Sparkes
The Binding (3 page)
I do. I listen. I hear the part of my mind whispering that God wouldn't create something that He hated, that if a child could be born with magic, perhaps my people are all wrong about it. And then I remember the young woman at her trial, shackled and filthy, helpless and hopeless, and no one willing to hear her pleas of innocence. That is all that waits for my precious child if I let her stay as she is, if she should manage to live that long. I shake my head. "It has to be this way."
Elisha looks away. "I know. I had to make sure." She runs her wrinkled hands over the soft, new skin of my baby's body. The baby tucks her legs up to her belly, and Elisha pulls them back down. She leans in close, and I move to the side to see what she's doing.
A tear forms in her eye, sparkling like a gem in the firelight, and slides down her nose to splash onto the baby's face. The old woman wipes it away, gently. She whispers something into the baby's ear, but all I catch is the two words at the end.
“I'm sorry
.
”
She hums a strange tune, like nothing I've ever heard. "Foreign" doesn't begin to describe it. "Unearthly" comes closer. At first the baby seems interested, alert and bright-eyed. The Woods-witch opens a jar of foul-smelling ointment and rubs it into the baby's skin, starting with her toes, working up her legs, then fingers to shoulders, body and head, ending with her face. My baby cries.
"Shhh," the old woman says, and picks up a wooden pacifier that she's dipped in honey. The baby takes it and sucks furiously, drawing comfort. I step forward to touch her, but the Woods-witch grabs my hand and shakes her head. I step back a few paces, and she motions for me to move farther away. She watches until she’s satisfied that I won’t interfere, then returns to her work.
My fingers tingle, then grow numb. The sensation spreads through my body. I want to ask what she’s done to me, but I’m afraid.
Ancient hands pass over the baby, hovering a steady few inches from her skin. I feel a disturbing energy building, coming from the baby. It’s that lightning-strike tingle multiplied by a thousand.
She spits out the pacifier and starts wailing. The magic turns my stomach, and the cries break my heart. I step forward, and feel dizzy. I take another step and fall, landing hard on my hands and my knees, gasping for air. The old woman shoots me a warning glance.
Once we begin, there's no stopping
.
The Woods-witch keeps singing, and my precious child's cries turn to strangled screams, though the old woman never lays a hand on her. I lie on the floor, frozen, tears streaming from my eyes, unable to wipe away the mess that leaks from my nose. My heart pounds with terror as my daughter's pain vibrates through my body. The connection shouldn't be surprising. Not so long ago she was a part of me.
It seems that the screams will go on forever . . . then the cabin is silent, and the magic gone. The old woman is finished with her song. The baby has stopped crying, but I think that her screams will echo in my brain until the day I die. I've betrayed her. It was what I had to do, the only way for her to live, but I'm already regretting the price we've paid.
Elisha looks down at the baby, sorrow etched into every deep line on her face. The baby isn't moving. "It is done," she says, and wraps the still form in a thick blanket.
"Is she—”
"No. You've spared her death, or at least delayed it. She's strong, she'll recover. She's gone to another place for now, where there's no pain. She'll be back soon enough." She places her things back into her bags and baskets, and I realize that my head is clear and I can stand again.
I approach the table cautiously. It's wrong, it's another betrayal, but this baby now seems like she's not mine, like someone has taken that beautiful little spirit and replaced her with an empty shell.
Elisha watches me, eyes narrowed, head tilted to one side. "You'll get past that, too, if you wish to. Let her rest, feed her, learn to love her for what she is now. She's the normal child you've been wishing for." Her voice is hard and accusing again.
She opens the door to leave, then turns back. "You'll want to keep an eye on that one, at least for a few years. Keep her safe, let her secret stay that way, and everything will be . . ." she trails off. "It will be just what you paid for."
Then she's gone, and I'm alone with my child. The baby could be sleeping but for the quick, shallow breaths she's taking and the almost imperceptible trembling of her body. I hold her close and tell myself again that I've done the right thing.
Perhaps fear of the unknown truly is useless, and the distance I feel is all in my head. It will pass. My gaze travels to the door, where the Rowanwood wreath that we all hang outside our homes has been brought in for the winter. It’s a silly superstition, but one that’s so deeply embedded that I rarely think about the simple circle of wood from a tree that’s reputed to protect a home from the evils of magic.
We’re not supposed to name our babies before they’re six months old, but I can’t help it. I wipe my tears away and smooth the child’s wisp of reddish-brown hair down over the soft part of her head. Her breath hitches.
I try to smile. “Hello, Rowan.”
T
hank
you for joining me for this story! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it.
If you enjoyed this world and would like to see what happens years after The Binding, check out the Bound trilogy.
Until next time… take care, and keep the magic alive.
—Kate
Torn (Bound Trilogy Book Two)
Sworn (Bound Trilogy Book Three)
-
At Any Cost (Bound Trilogy Prequel Novella)
K
ate Sparkes was born
in Hamilton, Ontario, but now resides in Newfoundland. She gets her best ideas while walking beside the ocean, so the move was probably a good idea.
Kate is the author of the Bound trilogy (Mature YA Fantasy), and her head is host to a number of other stories that she hopes to get out as soon as possible so she can get some sleep.
You can contact Kate through
her Facebook page
, on Twitter, at her blog, or via e-mail.
T
o Shannon Andrews
, Hayley Morgan, Jennifer Cousteils, Annette Flick, and Eva for help in early and/or proof-reading, and to Krista Walsh and KL Schwengel for other assistance.
To Joshua Essoe for the edits.
…And to everyone who has purchased, read, and supported my work. I couldn’t do it without you!
T
he Binding - Copyright
- 2014 Kate Sparkes
Cover art by K. Sparkes
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
