The sun warmed the back of Kiri’s neck through the long trudge uphill away from Westfall Village. A heavy basket of food strained whichever arm carried it; she paused and switched every few dozen steps. Her mother walked a few feet in front of her, a much lighter basket than her daughter’s hanging off her elbow. Kiri had learned a long time ago not to complain. Mother would just laugh and tell her it was the privilege of the elderly to take advantage of the strong backs of the young. Kiri didn’t even have the desire to complain about it anymore. She wanted to help as much as she could. The thought brought with it a surge of guilt. If she wanted to help Mother, then why leave her? Likely Mother had asked to come out here to ask that same question: why leave?
The day was so beautiful it almost made her forget her tension. The sky was blue, with just the right scattering of cotton-puff clouds. The warmth of the sun was tempered by light breezes that stirred the trees and cooled the skin.
The basket Kiri carried dug into her fingers, turning them red. She swung it to the other hand and the shifting of the basket gave off tantalizing whiffs of the delicacies inside. Kiri knew not to suggest that they stop, though the scent of fresh bread and meat pies was making her mouth water. Mother’s stride was brisk and purposeful. She wasn’t going to stop until they reached their destination.
The path took a turn and they came out of the woods onto the bare top of the hill...bare of trees, anyway. The peak was dominated by the hard, bleak shapes of the Standing Stones. As she always did when she came up on this hill, Kiri took a few steps onto the rocky soil that surrounded the stones and turned to look down at the valley. The hill was high enough that she could see nearly the whole of it spread out like a painting. The glinting ribbon of the River Thwyne started at the High Falls in the eastern end of the Coldown Mountains and snaked all along the valley floor, past the patchwork fields dotted with small farmhouses, the green woods, and the jumbled buildings of Westbridge, where the docks reached out into its waters and the West Bridge itself cut right across. Past the bridge the river disappeared behind the manor, standing alone on its hill, its walls tall and stark separating the power of Lord Westfall from all his subjects below.
Kiri turned away from the valley, looking back...and up, and up, at the Standing Stones. They were said to have been placed on the hill by the Eldan long ago. But they were so large, each nearly thirty feet high, that no one could imagine how they got there. Some people said magic, but isn’t magic just a word for “I don’t know”? The stones stood in a circle around a central pillar, larger than any of them, but it was leaning so much that it looked almost ready to fall. It was as famous as the circle itself. No one could remember a time it had not been leaning. There were eleven stones encircled the pillar. There once were twelve, but the twelfth had fallen long ago, before anyone could remember. It lay on its side, cracked and lichen-covered, just outside the circle. Kiri had been here many times before. Everyone in Westfall had. But this time she immediately saw that something was different.
“Look, Mother,” she said, pointing. “Another stone fell!”
And it had, but not all the way. One of the stones of the outer circle had fallen such that it leaned against the center pillar, looking almost as though it had been placed as a support to stop the pillar from finally falling over. The two stones formed a triangle with the ground. Kiri and Mother approached the stones slowly.
“It seems stable,” Mother said. “I don’t think it is about to fall any further.”
“It almost looks like you could get to the top of the pillar now,” Kiri pointed. “Just climb up there...”
Mother shook her head. “I might have expected you to think that way. You’ve been a climber since you were a toddler. But it doesn’t look very safe.”
“I suppose not,” Kiri said. “And I couldn’t really climb in this dress anyway.”
Mother laughed. “What would you wear? Your shift?”
Kiri wouldn’t meet her mother’s eye. “Let’s see what’s in the basket. The smell has been driving me mad the whole walk up.”
The wait was well-rewarded. The food was all good, and all of the selections were among Kiri’s favorites. The laces of her bodice were feeling particularly tight as she licked the last of the cream from her fingers. She took her time about it, because she could feel Mother’s eyes on her, intent and serious. Mother clearly had something to say, and Kiri did not think she wanted to hear it. They made it all the way through their food without talking about anything more serious than whether it might rain tomorrow.
“I’ll clean up,” Kiri said, gathering the dishes and heading toward the spring at the back of the hill.
“I’ll help,” her mother said. She took half the dishes out of Kiri’s hands, licking off her thumb when she accidentally dipped it in the last of the whipped cream.
The spring wasn’t far away, but there wasn’t a path and it was awkward carrying the dirty dishes and trying not to get anything on them while picking their way through the brush. Mother walked silently in front of her, dodging prickly bushes and pushing aside branches with her shoulder. Either she was done with small talk, or it was too much work to talk now. When they reached the spring and she stayed silent, Kiri decided it would be best to wait her out. She set her dishes on a rock and watched Mother out of the corner of her eye. The water in the little spring was barely deep enough to wash the dishes. Kiri turned the bowl she was cleaning to immerse the other side.
“I am not going to tell you to stay,” Mother said suddenly.
Mother waited until Kiri met her eyes before continuing. “You thought I would, didn’t you? I know you, Kiri, and I’m no fool.” She smiled tightly. “Even if I thought it would make you change your mind, I wouldn’t try.”
“Why not?” Kiri asked. “Everyone else did.”
“This is your choice,” Mother said. “It might even be the right one. I’ve tried to help...I know you don’t feel welcome...” She trailed off, looking away into the woods. “Sometimes it’s just time to move on.”
Kiri stared at Mother, shocked. For a moment it hurt that Mother did not want her to stay. But that feeling of betrayal quickly gave way to relief. That was the real feeling, the underneath feeling. She’d been afraid of a fight, Mother disapproved of her choices. Instead, Mother understood...about Barden and Mathilda, about...everything.
“I will miss you, of course, but you won’t be far away,” Mother said. “And visiting you at the inn will give me an excuse to have a warm meal I didn’t have to cook myself.”
Kiri smiled. “I’ll be happy to serve you. But I can’t speak for the food. As far as I know, I won’t be cooking it.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Mother said. “I won’t have to pretend to like it, then.”
“Pretend!”
Mother looked at her pile of dishes, then Kiri’s. “Did you bring the towel?”
Kiri sat back on her heels, gritting her teeth in frustration. “No.”
Mother sighed and brushed her hands off on her skirt as she stood up. “I didn’t remember it, either. I’ll go get it.”
“We can just dry them when we bring them back,” Kiri said.
“No, we’ll get soaked.” Mother shook her head. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.” She pointed at the two dish piles at her feet. “Finish those up.”
Within a minute after her mother had set off back up the hill, Kiri wished she had volunteered to get the towel herself. It was tricky washing dishes in the tiny stream. The spring bubbled up into a rocky small pool before it flowed downhill in a narrow stream. One pot was big enough that she kept accidentally dipping it in the sediment at the bottom and having to wash it again. Eventually, though, the work was done, and the dishes stood in a tidy pile on the rock beside her, sparkling clean but still dripping wet. Kiri looked over her shoulder, but Mother wasn’t in sight. Maybe the dishes hadn’t taken as long to clean as it had seemed. Her wet hands were getting cold. She wiped them off in her skirt. If she had been alone, she would have just dried the dishes off on her skirt, too, but she knew her Mother wouldn’t like that.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Kiri waited patiently for Mother...for about twenty seconds, and then abruptly hopped to her feet. She paced up and down by the stream, occasionally eyeing the pile of dishes. This was really ridiculous; she should just dry them off and take them up now. She paced a little longer, then glared at the dishes again. At this rate, the sun might dry them before Mother brought the towel back. Probably there wasn’t even a towel up there, but Mother had forgotten it and was going through the baskets over and over because she couldn’t admit it. It was the most likely explanation for her taking so long. Kiri paced up and down one more time, then swooped onto the dishes and dried them in a fury. Soon they were back in their stack, now dry. And Kiri’s skirt was soaked. She looked down at it, feeling a little embarrassed. Here she was, planning to set off on her own, and she couldn’t even be enough of a grown up to wait a few minutes.
Since it was too late to do otherwise, Kiri picked up the dishes and headed back up the hill. She expected to run into Mother on the way, but she made it all the way to the top.
“Sorry,” she said, as she stepped out of the trees. “I got...” She stopped, freezing in place like a startled doe. There was someone standing by the nearest pillar, looking right at her. Not Mother. It was a man, dressed in leathers with the worn look of long miles and hard use. He was bearded, but it was close-cropped, tidy in contrast to his rough clothes. His eyes were curious, contemplative. He raised an eyebrow as he looked at her, and Kiri found herself wondering if he had practiced like Mala. She noticed the blade hanging at his waist only when he reached for it, closing his fingers on the hilt but not sliding it from its sheath.
“Another one?” A gruff voice broke Kiri out of the surprise that had rooted her to the ground, and she whipped around to follow it. Immediately she wished she hadn’t, because then she couldn’t see the other man, the one who was reaching for his sword.
But then she saw.
The man who had spoken was about ten feet away from her, between two of the stones in the outer ring. He was dressed similarly to the other, but he didn’t share his tidy grooming. This one’s head was a mass of hair from jaw to crown. His sword wasn’t sheathed. It was in his hand, and dark with blood. And on the ground behind him was Mother. Still. Dead. Eyes wide and unseeing, her throat grotesquely slit.
Kiri’s feet brought her forward before her mind decided to move. She pulled up short out of reach of the hairy brigand, but she’d already made the mistake of entering the clearing. Her eyes darted around, assessing her predicament. The clean-cut bandit was moving to block her in, and she could now see that there were other men, at least three, maybe more. One of them was on his knees, peering at the central pillar with his nose almost touching the stone. The others stood around the outer circle. There didn’t seem to be any direction to run so that one of them wouldn’t be able to catch her.
The clean-cut one, now out of view, wolf-whistled behind her and Kiri flinched. His hairy companion saw it, eyes glinting at Kiri’s fear. He flicked his gaze up and down, taking her measure with predatory intensity. The only reason Kiri did not take a step back was the presence of the other man behind her. She was probably only imagining that she could hear his breathing.
“This one’s pretty,” The voice behind her had an undercurrent of humor. With Kiri tense with fear in front of him, Mother’s body on the ground, he was enjoying himself. “What do you think, Harish?”
The man studying the pillar looked up. He assessed Kiri the same way the hairy man had, but without the terrifying gleam in his eye. He grunted. “No time. Just kill her.” And he went back to his studying the pillar, apparently confident his order would be obeyed.
“Where there’s two there could be others.” One of the other men spoke up from the outer circle.
The bearded bandit took a step towards Kiri, lifting his bloody sword to point right at her. “You alone, girl?”
“No,” Kiri said, but then her eyes drifted towards her mother’s body. “Yes...we...I...it was just the two of us.”
The bandit slowly nodded his head, then his eyes flicked over Kiri’s shoulder to the man behind her. Kiri didn’t wait for their move; there was only this one moment to act. She threw the stack of dishes she was holding at the bandit with his bloody blade. He was knocked off balance enough, jumping back from the crashing pottery, that she was able to run right past him. Thudding feet came fast behind her, but Kiri didn’t look back. She made for the biggest gap she could see in the outer circle, but it was soon obvious she would be cut off. She leaned in and moved as fast she could, but it was no use. There was a bandit right in front of her, and at least two more behind. At the last instant she veered toward the newly fallen stone. It was a scramble at the start to get on top of it, but soon she was running along the stone, not even using her hands. The slope was steep, but no more so than the roof of the shop, where she had climbed many times--to Mother’s terror.
She reached the end of the stone. Since the stone was wedged against it part way down from the end, the top of the leaning central pillar was some distance away, more than the space between row houses in the village, which was as far as Kiri had ever dared to jump before. Kiri looked back down the length of the stone. No one had managed to follow her yet. Still, she wanted to make it as hard for them to reach her as she could. The space was farther than she’d ever jumped, but it wasn’t over open air; the faces of the stones formed a V between the two surfaces. If she fell, she could likely catch herself there. Kiri backed up a little, ran forward, and jumped. She came up short, hanging by her arms, but it was easy enough to kick at the stone’s face to pull herself onto the top. Once there, she found she was suddenly too shaky to stand up, so she laid flat, pressing her cheek and palms against the cold stone.
She closed her eyes, for a moment pretending she was safe just so she could think past the wild beating of her heart. It helped, a little. The bandits down below were talking, with her heartbeat quieting it was now possible to pay attention. Kiri opened her eyes and crawled to the side of the pillar so she could look over the edge.
The bandits had gathered by the bottom of the fallen stone. There were six of them, and they appeared to be arguing. She couldn’t make out half of what they said, and much of it was cursing and insults anyway, but she got the impression they were both making fun of one the men for having failed to climb up after her, and disagreeing about who should have to try next. Finally one stepped forward, a sour expression on his face, and gave the stone an appraising look.
He looked to be the youngest of the group, with a hint of fuzz on his chin in place of the beards the others sported. But the look in his eyes was frightening as any of them. He looked like he had something to prove. He started taking off his clothes...well not all of his clothes, just some of his armor, his pack, and his boots. Kiri was gratified and somewhat relieved to see that he found it necessary to unburden himself in order to attempt a slope that she had run up--skirts, petticoats and all. If he was as bad at climbing as he seemed to think he was, then perhaps she had a little more time. Though what good time would do her, she didn’t know. Eventually someone in the village might come to look for them, but as far as she knew Mother had told anyone where they’d gone.
Involuntarily, her eyes flicked over to Mother’s body, and she felt her chest grow tight. She backed away from the edge, blocking it from view.
Kiri forced herself to get to her feet and evaluate her surroundings. The young bandit was still trying to get on top of the stone, but she still felt it would be best to be ready when he came up here. The top of the pillar was not as smooth as she would have thought. There were divots and flakes of rock where a careless person might catch a foot and lose their balance.
“Are you enjoying the view?” The tallest man called up to her in a mocking tone.
“View’s great from down here, too,” one of the other men added, leering up at her. Kiri knew there was no way he could see up her skirts from down there, but even so she took a step back from the edge and had to resist the urge to hold her skirt closer to her body.
While Kiri was distracted, the young man had finally managed to clamber up onto the stone. He looked nervously at the ground, even though he wasn’t yet high up at all, then turned his purposeful gaze on Kiri. Kneeling up, he drew a knife from his belt and held it in one hand as he climbed the stone. He moved forward on the other hand and his knees. His progress was torturously slow. Every muscle of Kiri’s body was tensed to run, but there was nowhere to go. She forced herself to stay still and keep watching him, even though every time he looked up at her the intensity of his eyes made her want to shy away. He reached the end of the stone and stopped to gauge the gap to the pillar’s top. Kiri backed away from the edge, not wanting to be in his reach. Her skirt swept at the gathered dirt and dust atop the pillar and a glint of light caught her eye. There was a thud and scrabbling sounds; he had jumped. He caught the pillar the same way Kiri had.
Kiri had only a moment to risk it. She swooped down on the glint and found it had not been her imagination. Her fingers closed on the hard hilt of a knife. She started to stand, but the knife wouldn’t come. It was stuck. The bandit stared at her, brows drawn together in puzzlement, as he pulled himself up onto the pillar. Kiri frantically tugged at the dagger. There didn’t seem to be anything holding it down, but it was immovable. Kiri screamed in frustration, and it came free, so unexpectedly Kiri had to struggle to keep her balance. The knife was now in her hand, though hot with the friction of her panicked efforts. She lunged.
The young bandit had swung one leg up onto the top of the rock when Kiri came at him. His eyes widened, and he tried to shift his weight, but she was on him before he could bring his weapon to bear, striking straight for the arm that was supporting him. He would fall to the ground among the others. They would fear climbing up and facing her again.
The knife never struck. At the moment it should have bitten into his skin, it was gone, dissolved into light, for a moment holding the perfect shape of a knife from Kiri’s hand to the bandit’s arm. The glow spread, seeping between Kiri’s fingers as her now-empty fist struck the young bandits arm, the forward momentum of her strike untoppable. He fell back, but Kiri didn’t look to see what had happened to him. Her hand was so hot, and growing hotter. She stared at it, shaking her fingers as if she could get the heat to fly away. The glow, like the heat, was building, so bright it hurt her eyes.
The men below were yelling, demanding to know what was going on. To warn them back, Kiri stepped to the edge of the rock and held up her hand. One of them yelled in shock.
Her hand was now blazingly, painfully, hot. She closed her fingers into a fist and shook it again. When she opened her fist the heat left all in a rush. From each of her stretched fingers a line of light extended, like a bolt of lightning, straight to the chest of one of the men standing below. The bolts lasted just a few moments, filling the whole clearing. The faces were intensely lit by the blue-white lighting, and in their eyes was the horror-struck certainty of death. They fell.