Chapter Three

“Arnan Taddeo Romany! When I catch you I’ll skin your hide off!” Daelia’s voice rang through the forest. Arnan cringed at the pure rage that he heard in her tone. After all it had only been one loaf of bread, and she was always interested in learning new recipes. He wasn’t sure if “grasshopper bread” was in any of their mother’s cookbooks, but Aiden had been teaching him how to survive in the woods and he felt it was his little brotherly duty to inform Daelia that her bread needed a little more “meat.” If nothing else the sheer pleasure of watching his elder sister’s face as she returned to find her latest loaf, cooked with little beady heads and spindly legs sticking out of it in every which way, was worth whatever punishment she could dish out. Arnan stifled as a giggle as she stood beneath the tree he was perched in. He could almost hear the threats she was murmuring under her breath. It was likely going to be several weeks before she allowed him to eat any bread. Daelia stopped her foot and headed back towards the house with angry tears threatening to stream down her cheeks. As far as Arnan was concerned Daelia was far too fussy for her tender age of ten and needed a little bit of fun to lighten her day.

Little specs starting falling on Arnan’s head and as he looked up to see what was disturbing the tree he found himself staring into Wren’s large hazel eyes. She was precariously squatting on the branch above his head and slowly crushing early autumn leaves in her fist above his head. Arnan wasn’t terribly surprised to find his little sister above him, but how she managed to climb the tree without him seeing he would never know. The seven year old girl regarded him seriously, but not without a hint of humor sparkling green in her eyes.

“What did you do this time?”

Arnan smiled impishly as an image of the insect-loaded loaf arose in his mind. “I was just trying to experiment in the kitchen a little.”

“You know Daelia doesn’t like bugs.”

Arnan started backwards at his little sister’s statement, at times he seriously wondered if she could read his mind.

“You might as well get the punishment over with.”

“She’s madder then Aiden on a bad day right now!”

Wren smirked at him, “And if you let her stay that way she’ll try to convince Aiden to spank you.”

“Aiden will think it was funny!” Or so Arnan hoped, he didn’t really want to face his eldest brother if Aiden had a mind to punish him. He watched as Wren’s eyes quickly shifted to a rich brown.

“Aiden might, but Duard won’t.” The little girl turned her face away and nimbly descended down the tree leaving Arnan to agonize over the whether to try and seek grace from Daelia or wait for a higher authority to deal him punishment. Somewhere behind him Arnan heard someone calling him he wasn’t sure who but he distinctly heard a voice calling “uncle”

Arnan bolted awake and met Pepper’s concerned gaze. Memories of the dream still lingered in Arnan’s tired mind and he had a hard time determining what was only a memory and what was real. He could almost feel the belt lashes on his rear that the Duard had delt him after word of what took place reached the guardian’s ears. Arnan shook his head to try and clear the cobwebs and realized with certain horror that they were in the middle of the forest with no trail in site. The mare he was seated on was happily making a feast off of the wild grasses growing on the forest floor. Arnan groaned, he wasn’t sure how long he had slept but it would likely take hours to find the path again. He offered his arm down to help Pepper back up onto the horse, but was met with a skeptical eye.

“You’re not going to fall asleep again, are you?”

“No Pepper, and the sooner you get up the sooner we find the path.”

__________________________________

They had been traveling east for nearly five hours and there was still no sign of the path. Arnan at least knew he was traveling in the right direction as the landscape slowly changed. The mare’s hooves we’re sinking more deeply into the softening mud and no one could deny the suffocating stench that was starting to form. They had already passed the borders and entered the swamps of Negesh.

“Uncle?”

Arnan started at the sound of Pepper’s voice, he had thought the little boy was asleep.

“Yes?”

“Where are we going?”

Arnan sighed and felt as if someone had thrown a dagger into his heart.

“Somewhere I would rather not take you.” A part of him said he shouldn’t bring Pepper back into the swamps, but at this point he had no choice. Both of the weary travelers lapsed into silence and watched as the old trees began to be over taken by sickly green vines that seemed to want to keep out the sun. Arnan heard Pepper gasp and felt the little boy’s grip on his cloak tighten. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the familiar marker. An old tree, that was roughly the size of a small cottage in diameter, stood chared and broken. Pictures and words were carved into the sides of the massive cypress. This was the place he had found Pepper nearly two years ago. Arnan didn’t want to read the words, yet somehow he had to.

“Here lieth the grave of two persons in the service of the evil one who saw fit to bring a plague down on the God-fearing and beloved of Deus. In holy war they met their end in the fire of hell.”

Arnan bit back tears and rage as the horror filled memories assailed his senses. There was fire everywhere, he could almost see it licking it’s way across the chared forest floor. The shouts of the townsfolk still echoed in terrible clarity. All he could see was the little five year old redhead, held back by stone-faced townsmen as the boy’s home went up in flame. Tears spilled over Arnan cheeks as he heard the little boy’s screams, he could not stop the wrenching feeling in his gut as the scene played once more in his mind. Arnan suddenly realized that Pepper had jumped off the mare and was sprinting towards the remains of the burnt home. The screams were not only in his imagination, once again the boy’s cries filled the clearing.

“Momma, Papa, Momma!”

“Pepper come back!” Arnan couldn't disguise the panic in his out voice.

He jumped off the horse and ran as fast as he could to grab the little boy. He was halfway across the burnt clearing before he could wrestle Pepper to the ground. The boy was hysterically fighting and trying to get into the house.

“I have to save them! I have to save them! Momma!”

Arnan grabbed Pepper’s face and forced him to look into his eyes. Pepper’s eyes were wild with panic and he was still trying to push Arnan away.

“It’s too late, Pepper.” Arnan whispered in the hope that it would soften the blow. At the sound of the words Pepper crumpled and began to sob. Arnan picked the little boy up and let Pepper bury his face into the dark green traveling cloak. It was hard to bear the shaking sobs that wracked the seven year old’s body. Arnan took long strides across the clearing in the direction of the only safe haven he knew of. If Little Mother was still alive, she would know what to do.

__________________________________

The little old blind woman was kneeling in her garden taking care of herbs when Arnan strode through her gate. Pepper, it seemed, was nearly unconscious, and now was only weeping. Little Mother turned and regarded Arnan with her unseeing eyes.

“I was hoping Deus would bring me my little Pepper back.” The woman flashed a toothless grin at him and Arnan found himself speechless. “The ground itself still groans with the cries of this little boy, Arnan Romany, he has seen such horror that no matter how many rains fall the earth will not be cleansed of his sorrow. Go, I will do what I can.”

Arnan watched silently as Little Mother came and took the numb boy from his arms and carried him into her cottage. He turned and slowly made his way back to the terrible clearing. Bitter words silently assailed his mind as he went. He was an idiot for bringing the boy back. Mauria was right, he would likely be responsible for Pepper’s death. Whether it be from the life he had been teaching the boy to live, or grief. Arnan flicked away angry tears as the house came into sight. He remembered clearly meeting Little Mother at the very spot he stood. She had been watching from the shadows with tears streaming down her dark weathered face. He remembered so very well the words she had whispered over and over again.

“All they wanted was to tell you about Christus”

Her words where not heard by the townspeople that night. Arnan wasn’t even sure it would have mattered if they had. He didn’t care what his siblings believed, or even Little Mother. If Deus or Christus really existed they would have never let anything so terrifying happen to Pepper or his parents. Martyrs; the word left a bitter taste in his mouth. No, Deus didn’t exist, and if he did he didn’t care. Arnan pushed open the burnt door and watched as little rats scurried away from him and into the dark corners of the one room home. It had once been Pepper’s home, but it seemed that “home” had rejected both of them. Arnan slowly knelt and began lifting up broken boards hoping to retrieve what he had buried in the house that haunted both of their pasts. He let out a sigh of relief as he saw the sack right where he had left it, completely undisturbed. Just as he began to reach for the bag Arnan froze at the unmistakable feeling of a cold knife point pressing against the back of his skull.