Colours in the Mist, page 23
“Something is seriously wrong with him, we have to do something,” I said meekly.
“And we will, I promise you.” Her cold, fragile hand clasped mine, sealing her promise.
“What did he mean by being found? I have never heard him talk like that before.” It was something that had been bothering me since I had run into him in the woods.
“I am not certain yet.” She looked off into the distance as if listening to something. Shaking her head, she turned back to me. “You get some rest. I will get Lorian to bring you some cold water. Drink your tea, it will help you sleep. You’ll feel better tomorrow, I think.”
Once Grandma Wren had left the room, I pondered on what had happened. Emerys said that his ‘Master’ – which was disturbing in itself – had a lot of power. The only individual I knew with power like that, was the Stravaig.
A while later, Lorian came in with a wooden tray that had seen better days. Pushing all thoughts of the Dark One aside for a minute, I tried to bring my mind to happier thoughts.
“I have brought you some water and a few biscuits I found left in the jar.”
Lorian turned to leave once the tray was safely on my lap and she had removed the one Grandma Wren had brought in.
Reaching out, I caught her hand in mine. “Will you stay with me awhile and talk?”
The hesitation in her eyes was easy to see and I felt my chest squeeze. I’d put that there with how I had acted, but I was determined to make amends. My feelings were closer, and seemed easier to identify.
“Sure,” was all she said, as she perched on the edge of the bed, resting the tray on her lap.
Dusk was fast approaching, as it always did at this time of the year. It only felt like a moment ago that I had woken up at lunchtime. As I gazed at the quickly darkening sky – it was only three in the afternoon – I noticed that it had been snowing.
“I’m sorry, Lorian.”
“What for?” The puzzlement caused her nose to wrinkle slightly and she pursed her lips into a slight pout that made her look like a small child trying to decide what sweet to have. I had to suppress a smile that tried to creep onto my lips.
“I haven’t made you feel the most welcome since you have been here.”
“I understand really. I have disrupted you and your family.” She was obviously uncomfortable, fiddling with the used dishes on the tray. “You need to rest and I am tired – this headache just won’t go away. Try and sleep, Maverick.”
She retreated to the door and blew out the candle that was lit on the bedside table.
Taking up the water, I took a sip and nearly spat it out. It had obviously been soaked in herbs and the sourness made me gag. Gulping it down before I changed my mind, I tried to settle back to sleep. I still felt exhausted, but it eluded me. I had obviously rested enough for now, and my mind was too busy.
I was haunted by the memories of my meeting with Emerys and conversations with Lorian that had never taken place. And there was one question that kept playing over and over throughout the dream:
“If I am I lost, what does it mean to be found?”
Lorian
3601 Moons 27 days
Dear Diary,
Over the next few weeks, we will begin to prepare for the festivities coming up, but that isn’t what I am writing about. Since Maria had her trip into the past she has been different, more distant, especially to me. And she keeps getting that pocket watch out. I don’t understand what it is for. She never had it before I came to Sòlas.
When I asked her what was wrong, she sidestepped the question, similar to when I asked about the pieces of colour I have seen, and my headaches and blurred vision. I know she said I’d have to help bring colour back and surely, if I am beginning to see it, something is happening, but she just won’t talk to me. She just says, ‘In time,’ and then walks away. And how am I supposed to help bring colour back exactly?
I can’t concentrate with these headaches, but I will think of something.
Lorian
The next few weeks went by quickly; helping Neave with preparations for Yule took up most of my time, allowing me to keep my distance from Maverick. Since his accident, my concern overwhelmed me; I tried to hide it so as not to smother him but it just made me all the more awkward around him.
When he wasn’t having hushed conversations with Grandma Wren, it always seemed as though he was watching me. His wounds had healed enough so that he could work on some wooden projects for Yule but they hadn’t distracted him enough. Neave had tasked him with carving the Yule logs with protective runes – apparently he did this every year – and he seemed more content when he was whittling away.
I had never heard of that tradition so spoke at length about it with Grandma Wren. Burning the Yule log was supposed to help ward against lightning and house fires, especially if the remains of the burnt log were kept under the bed in the coming year. Maverick engraved additional protective runes on the wood for good fortune and health.
He had refused to say he wasn’t feeling strong enough to cast the right spells but he did say he didn’t have the time it would take to prepare each log. This year he was filling a trunk with wooden ornaments to sell instead of the logs.
“Lorian, could you pass me the wreath on the back of the cart?” Neave called from the stall we had finishing setting up moments earlier.
Drawing me out of my daze, where I was standing looking at Maverick’s back as he carved, I clambered onto the rickety cart and picked up two wreaths – one was smaller than the other but it still had a significant amount of detail.
“This one?” I held it out to her as I picked my way across the trimmings that we’d allowed to pile up on the floor.
“Yes, thank you. Could you please pack it up and give it to Feren? Apparently he needed another.”
She was preparing a thistle bouquet for a sinister-looking customer, but I still caught her amused eye roll. Avoiding eye contact with the cruel-looking witch, I started wrapping the little parcel in the thin paper we used to protect the flowers until they got home.
“Honestly, I don’t know why he would need a third wreath. Surely one or two is enough?”
“Oh, I don’t think the wreaths are the reason he is coming back.” The devious look on Neave’s face made me blush. “It’s obvious he is taken with you, Lorian. It’s okay to have a little fun.”
As I looked at Neave I could see a blue hue drift into her eye as it twinkled, and a light blush warmed her normally pale skin. Before I knew it, my hand was brushing her cheek and a questioning look on her face overtook her humorous expression.
“Everything okay?”
“Oh, umm, yes,” I stammered, pulling my hand back. The blush was still there. “Just a smudge,” I said quickly.
It was a ridiculous excuse as we didn’t have any potted plants or herbs on the stall so she couldn’t have got a smudge on her. An easy smile remained on her face as she turned back to what she was doing, dismissing my little mishap.
“Do you really need a third wreath?” I asked when I had finished wrapping the parcel and passed it to Feren’s waiting hands.
“Oh you know you can’t have too many,” he remarked, handing me the coin.
It had taken me a while to get used to the currency they used – instead of half a crown, farthing or sixpence, they used twenty, ten or five shard pieces and they even had a coin called a bonn which was the equivalent to a pound note.
“But surely three is a little over the top?”
“Nah, got to have one on each door.” Feren’s mischievous grin spoke loudly enough, but his next words still took me by surprise. “Would you like to go to the Yule festival with me, Lorian?”
My face must have given away the little understanding I had of the festivities that were due to take place in the next few days, as he quickly tried to explain.
“It’s a bit like Samhain – we have dancing, but people also bring plates of food with them. So? Will you go with me? Or has someone already asked you?”
I knew who he was referring to. Everyone seemed to think there was something going on between Maverick and me, especially since his accident. I know I had been helping him too much and that people would assume things, but I couldn’t help it. He needed to be looked after in those few weeks and I wanted to be the one to do it. Seeing him with his wounds had shown me a more vulnerable side of Maverick, but now he was regaining his strength, he was beginning to bury it again. His more cruel, shallow side – what I feared was the real him – could re-emerge any moment.
I managed to catch Neave’s eye. She had no doubt heard Feren’s question, and as if answering my unspoken plea for guidance, she smiled and gave a nod, then turned her back again, giving us the illusion of privacy.
“It’s okay, I see you don’t—”
“I would love to!” I cut him off before he finished, my confidence had grown since I first arrived in Sólas.
He had turned to leave, but I could see his smile. And when he turned back around, his eyes were purple.
“What is it, Lorian?” Reaching out he placed his hand on my forearm.
“It’s nothing, I’m sorry.”
I covered his hand with mine, keeping my voice level as though not to show my surprise. I couldn’t try and explain it to him. Maybe I was just imagining it, but after seeing colour in Neave’s face just moments before, I wasn’t so sure any more.
I could feel someone watching us, and before I even saw their face, I could feel the wave of anger. Maverick had obviously finished his carving and returned to the stall. Neave was putting him to work.
“You can go now, Lorian, Maverick can take over from you. Go and enjoy the rest of the market. Here…”
She pressed some small coins into my hand and I finally dragged my eyes from the back of Maverick’s head.
“I can’t—”
“You aren’t, this is your wage. You earned it, so I am not just giving it to you. And take this and get some dried fruit please,” she said with a soft understanding on her face.
She pushed a few more coins in my hand and turned back to the stall. “Have fun. Goodbye, Feren!” she called over her shoulder, as she began trimming more stems.
Feren dragged me into the throng of the Yule market and soon enough, I was engulfed by all the different smells and sounds. Some were familiar and others new and exciting. The spicy smell of potpourri blanketed me in its familiar scent.
Pushing my way through to the stall, I caught sight of little pots of my favourite Christmas decorations. The dried orange slices, cinnamon sticks, star anise and, of course, the pine cones made my hands twitch. I so badly wanted to reach out and touch them, but I knew better than to do that this time.
“How much for the potpourri?” I called over the crowd to the tall skinny man that was tending it. It seemed as though most of the men around my age that I had encountered were tall, none of them shorter than six feet. Strange.
“Ten bonn.”
It seemed quite a lot for the small pot, but I knew my Christmas, or Yule, wouldn’t be complete without it. I just knew Grandma Wren would be happy to have it too. Fishing out my small cloth coin pouch I began to shuffle through its contents to find the correct change when a man’s hands, I assumed Feren’s, clamped over them.
“Bit steep for that don’t you think, Michael?”
It wasn’t Feren’s voice, it was Maverick’s. I swear he always seemed to appear out of nowhere. It was getting rather annoying, but for now I was relieved someone was able to voice what I thought about the price. He had his face schooled so it wouldn’t reveal his emotions and he kept his eyes on the seller. Feren was nowhere to be seen.
“Ah, Maverick, as you have turned up, I assume this is the young lady everyone is talking about. Lorian isn’t it?” Michael sniggered when he glanced at me, causing Maverick to squeeze my hand.
“Yes, I am Lorian,” I answered meekly. I could feel tension in the situation and I didn’t understand why.
“You see, I was a little confused when I saw her with Feren and not you.”
Maverick’s body tensed next to me, but he kept his face blank and his voice calm. “How much are you willing to pay, Lorian?”
He was trying to change the subject, to bring it back to the matter at hand. He used the one thing he knew would draw Michael’s attention – money.
I looked down at my small coin purse. I still didn’t understand the value of anything so it was hard to come to a sum. I heard Maverick sigh, obviously frustrated with my indecisiveness.
“Give him five bonn. That’s still more than it’s worth; we could have made some at home if you wanted it so badly.” He turned and stalked over to where Feren was now standing. I could see Maverick was arguing with him.
“Here you go!” Michael handed me a wrapped paper parcel. “I will see you at the Yule festivities. Save me a dance,” he smirked.
I hurriedly handed him the money and pushed my way through the crowd to where Maverick and Feren were facing each other.
“You honestly are the most stupid person I’ve met, Feren! She’s only been here a few months and you let her wander around on her own?”
Maverick’s voice was trembling as he tried to control his temper. However, there was no black smoke this time, so that was a good sign.
“She won’t learn if you baby her all the time,” Feren retorted. “She is fine, aren’t you Lorian?” He didn’t wait for my response. “I’ve got to go and help Mum. You know, only a few days to Yule. Got to prepare. I’ll collect you from Grandma Wren’s at five-thirty Saturday, okay, Lorian?” With that, he kissed me on the cheek and disappeared into the crowd.
I was stunned into silence as I pressed my hand to my cheek. What had just happened? No one had ever kissed me – well not like that. It was too forward on the hand, let alone the cheek.
Maverick’s barely contained anger erupted from him in a low growl; it was so animalistic and feral I stumbled away. It was clearly so full of frustration.
“You are going to Yule with him?!”
I was transfixed by the swell of darkness emitting from his ankles in a cloud, now he was losing his temper. “It’s just a dance, it doesn’t mean anything.”
I tried to keep my voice calm but he was frightening to look at. Maverick’s top lip was curled and he was slightly crouched, as if he was an animal ready to attack. In a flash, he had his hand around my wrist and was pulling me through the crowd to a secluded spot just off the busy square. I saw him wince slightly as his abrupt movement pulled his wounds.
“Do you realise that Beltane is just a few months later?” His face was only inches from mine.
“I don’t even know what Beltane is. Stop, Maverick, you’re scaring me.” I pushed against him with my free hand, carefully avoiding the centre of his chest, anger growing in me. My breath was coming in short bursts.
Maverick took several deep breaths before he answered me. The darkness that had surrounded his lower half receded as he grew calmer. “Beltane is the festival when the maiden goddess is at her most fertile. It is also expected that we take a partner, if not wed soon after and begin a family.” I could hear the defeat in his voice.
“Who do you mean by ‘we’?”
“Between the ages of eighteen and twenty-one they expect us to find someone. Not everyone does, but some people believe it is important to do so in this period. It is supposed to be more likely that you will find your true match. Feren is twenty-two next month and it isn’t just the prospect of finding a true match that is enticing him to hurry, his mother thinks he should be settled. If he isn’t, and hasn’t tried to begin a family by Beltane, she will disown him.”
“That is awful.”
I was still trying to wrap my head around the concept of there being a true match and that they expected their children to find them in such a short period of time, let alone start a family. But I could also feel hope that maybe what I had started feeling towards Maverick could mean something.
“It is the way it is. Some families are more relaxed about it. Mum would like me to find mine, but she understands it takes time. I’m sorry I scared you, Lorian, the whole situation is just so … messed up.”
He was still holding my wrist but only loosely now, tracing the area he had gripped with his thumb, erasing any lingering pressure with its soft tingles.
“Neave seems more reasonable than most parents.” I placed my hand on his hand, encouraging him to bring his eyes to mine. He had been staring off into the market while he had been talking. “I understand you’re angry, Maverick. You now know that I didn’t know the commitment I was showing by going to Yule with Feren. Thank you for telling me.”
“You are welcome. Just look after yourself when you do go to Yule. A lot of people will be looking for their match. Come on, let’s walk back into the market before it closes. I need to look for a few more things.”
We walked, weaving in and out of people to the stalls we wished to look at, Maverick being careful not to let people too close to him in case he jostled his wounds. But the crowds had started to dwindle. It hadn’t taken me long to realise the market quietened for a few hours around mid-afternoon and then picked up around five for the last hour until the stalls closed, everyone trying to get the last bargain of the day.
We must have been walking for at least half an hour in near-silence. Maverick gave me some time to process my thoughts. We only spoke to say we wanted to go to a stall or about an item or price. The market had quietened my thoughts, but I still felt strange.
“I honestly thought it was just a dance, Maverick. What if Feren thinks it is more?”
“Oh, he will hope it is more, he is quite taken with you, I believe. But if you are worried, you should tell him. But just be careful – he can have a temper.”
It seemed funny to me that Maverick would comment on someone else’s temper.
“Okay, but how will I tell him? I don’t know where he lives.”
Sighing, he looked at me. He looked tired but I knew that he was still healing. “Look, I will tell him to drop by later and you can talk to him then – that okay? That way, I can watch in case he gets mad.”
