Tremors: A Stone Braide Chronicles Story (2 page)

S
elah trudged down the path behind the barn, across the fallow flax field, and into the house. The wonderfully cool interior was a relief from the summer heat. She wiped the sweat from her forehead as she searched for Mother and Dane. She found them in the far wing, where Mother conducted her linen business.

“There you are, my sweet,” Mother said with a smile. She squinted and continued threading a broad, flat needle with the flax she used to repair defects in the woven cloth.

“I’m sorry,” Selah said. “I forgot you wanted me to watch Dane until you retooled the loom.” Another lie. She hadn’t forgotten, but Mother would not condone her following Father. He was the leader of their clan and pretty much the final word on what happened in the family and the Borough. Selah rationalized the deceit was necessary if she was going to find a way out of this death sentence.

Mother looked almost apologetic. “You’ve had other things on your mind.”

“Yes. The idea of running away instead of getting married did cross my mind ten or twenty times.”

Mother looked stricken. “You wouldn’t, though, would you?”

Selah wanted to scream yes, but she knew if she disappeared, Mother would take the brunt of Father’s wrath, and that was the last thing she wanted to happen. She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I wouldn’t do that. Isn’t there any way I can avoid this death sentence?”

“I’ve tried everything I can think of,” Mother said. She pushed the needle into the tear and began stitching. “I just don’t understand his insistence.”

“Don’t you think I’m too young to be married?” Selah fiddled with the flax tools in the basket beside the loom. Mother was already an ally, but her desperation for solutions kept her seeking confirmation, as though one more yes would change the tide.

“Some girls do start married life at eighteen, and many times younger, but truthfully, knowing your disposition, I’d agree you need several more years before you’re mature enough to let a man control you.”

Selah jerked her head to stare at her mother. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.” Her chest clenched. Let a man control her? Not in this life or whatever came after.

“Why? That’s what marriage is about. The man is in charge of the household, and you are to obey. As I said, the learning comes with maturity.”

Mother spoke so matter-of-factly that it tightened Selah’s throat. For her to envision her life as an adult, absent of her father’s control, then be swiftly cut down and come under a husband’s control . . . it made her heart hammer in her chest. She had to find a way to prove her worth without marriage.

“If blind obedience to a man is a requirement, then I’m never going to be ready.” Just the thought labored her breathing.

Mother sighed. “It’s not always that way. Sometimes a marriage is about nothing but love.” A far-off look reflected in her eyes, a serenity.

“Mother?” Selah noticed her pulling away from the conversation. “Did you marry for love?”

“Once upon a time.” Mother flushed and turned her head away. It gave Selah hope. At least Mother’s marriage had started with love.

“Then how did things get like this? Why is Father forcing me to marry someone I don’t know and don’t want to marry?”

Again Mother had that far-off look, then she shook herself back to the present. “I don’t know, my darling. He thinks it will create a strong bond for our Boroughs to keep us safe from the marauding bands that are pillaging other areas. We don’t have the number of weapons and fighters Waterside Borough has at their disposal, or the number of young men they are turning into an army for protection.”

“So basically if I’m not the sacrifice, everyone here could wind up being the victim.”

Mother sighed. “Yes, partly. Maybe you’ll have a splendid marriage full of love. We can only hope it will be wonderful. I heard they have very nice homes in Waterside, so other women must be happy. Men don’t build beautiful homes for themselves—they’re cave creatures.”

Selah laughed out loud at that comment. “Well, I’ve got another two days of freedom until my Birth Remembrance. Maybe by then I’ll grow a couple heads or extra toes and he won’t want me.”

Mother smiled, the tension broken. She glanced at the clock. “Your father is going to be in for the midday meal and the table needs to be set. You’d better hurry, young lady. Everything else will work out. I’ll watch Dane while you prepare.”

Selah wrapped her arms around Mother’s shoulders and rested her cheek against Mother’s head, breathing in the floral scent of her hair. The closeness quieted her distress. If only she could remain this way forever.

Her nine-year-old brother Dane sat among a pile of toy soldiers Father had carved from wood gathered from the latest field he’d cleared for crops. As the leader of Dominion Borough, Father controlled several hundred acres of his own land and thus had the largest crop of food grains in the Borough. But he was always clearing land for more crops in a quest to have the most. Selah never quite understood his goals because they had never lived a life of need.

She moved into the kitchen doorway. Coming in from the other side of the house, she hadn’t smelled the wonderful aroma of vegetable stew and baking bread. She smiled. Mother knew hot bread was her comfort food. She momentarily forgot her marriage woes as she set about preparing the table.

She had just finished setting the places and removing the bread from the oven when she heard Father and the boys coming up the walk.

The kitchen door swung open and the three men poured in, Father first. Raza had an arm around Cleon’s neck as he rubbed his knuckles across his brother’s head. Cleon squirmed free and they both headed for their seats at the table.

“Boys, you’d better wash up. You know how your mother is about dirty hands at the table,” Father said as he pumped water into the sink basin and washed.

Raza turned in Selah’s direction as she moved the loaf of bread and warming stone to the center of the table. Their eyes met. Raza held the stare, his face bare of expression. Selah turned away. She still wasn’t over the distress of his carelessness at the beach.

She moved into the hallway and called out to Mother. Dane loped up the hall ahead of her and everyone took their places at the table—Father and Mother at each end, Raza and Cleon on one side, and Dane and Selah on the other.

Mother finished serving Father and the children in order of age before Father spoke.

“I thought I made myself clear last week when I said Selah was not to go to the beach this week,” he said. He sliced off a hunk of bread and dipped it in his bowl of stew.

Selah hung her head. This road would lead to a tongue-lashing. She had no defense for her disobedience other than defiance, and this was not the time to show that side to Father.

Mother looked at Selah. “I’m sure she has a logical explanation. Don’t you, my dear?” Selah wanted to hug her. She was always so understanding.

“I-I forgot. I didn’t think you meant the whole week,” Selah said. She hadn’t thought to prepare an excuse. It bothered her how much she was telling lies lately, but they were a matter of survival. Did that make them okay? She had the distinct impression that Mother could tell every time she uttered an untruth but was covering for her.

Raza snickered. “So which is it? You forgot, or you didn’t think it meant all week?”

“Raza, mind your mouth. Your father is talking,” Mother said.

Selah breathed silent relief. She would owe Mother an explanation.

“Selah, I want you to remember this time. For the next two days you’re not to go to the beach or leave this property without your brothers as an escort. Am I clear?” Father said.

Cleon’s mouth dropped open.

Raza pushed off from the table. “I’m not babysitting her for the next two days! I have things to do.”

Selah put her head in her hands. “This is not fair—”

“Silence!” Father yelled, pounding a fist on the table. Silverware and cups jumped with the sharp percussion, and Selah was sure his booming voice rattled the kitchen windows.

Mother returned her fork to her plate and folded her hands in her
lap. “Varro, do you think it’s really necessary to punish our daughter right before her Birth Remembrance?”

Selah could tell Mother was angry. She never called Father by his proper name unless she was trying to control her temper, and Father was the same way. Apparently it was parent-speak for “You’re making me angry in front of the children.”

“Yes, Pasha, it is necessary,” Father said matter-of-factly. “We have reason to believe there are those who would kidnap and kill Selah rather than let her marry the heir to the Waterside Borough.”

S
elah finished her meal in stunned silence. Father’s proclamation of her imminent demise put a damper on the sibling disagreement. After that, the loudest noises at the table were utensils contacting the heavy earthenware dishes that Mother had so lovingly crafted years ago.

Afterward Selah watched Dane while her mother changed the settings on her looms. As soon as Mother finished, Selah wormed her way out of the house and, with a heartfelt promise not to leave the property, bolted to the barn.

She didn’t care if someone wanted to kidnap and kill her. Well, she did care, but she didn’t believe Father. Why would this new edict only be good for two days? But she couldn’t bring the subject up with Mother. She’d seen the look of fear in her eyes. There would be no rationalizing with her now. Father just didn’t want her to be part of the goings-on at the beach.

Determination fueled her resolve. Discovering Father’s plan to defeat her attempts at hunting would eventually move to the top of her list. But for today, finding out the details of her arranged marriage took the highest spot.

Selah hid in the hayloft where she had a visual advantage. Resting on her stomach behind several bales, she hoped Cleon had been telling the truth. She’d seen the look of fear in his eyes, but she wasn’t sure if their closeness was enough to loosen his tongue completely.

She waited and was just about to give up when she heard rumbling.
Sand Runs charged up the road to the barn. She heard gravel scattering. Father and Cleon dismounted near the doorway on the left side of the barn. Through the barn slats she spied a wagon pulling up behind them. She pushed back into the right corner. The knotholes and spaced floorboards on that side of the hayloft offered a better view of the level below.

The double-wide barn doors opened. Sunlight streamed in, and Father and Simeon Kingston pushed a large, flat cart containing two fifty-five-gallon drums inside.

“I set it so that if elimination is the only option, it won’t be unexpected. I covered all our bases. There’s no reason we shouldn’t succeed this time,” Father said as they stopped the cart next to the petrol rack inside the doorway.

The men wrestled the drums from the cart and rolled them onto the rack. They connected the hand pump and primed the drum before sitting down to talk.

“You’re right, Varro,” Simeon said. “We’ve worked long and hard to get to this day.”

What day? Selah hadn’t been able to hear what Father had said outside. Maybe she should have hidden somewhere closer. Still, she was lucky they had chosen to come inside.

“Patience won out,” Father said.

Simeon slapped him on the back. “You’ve got more patience than I do. All these years? I’d have moved on to something more attainable. The consortium feels an unlimited supply of petrol is a grand gesture of appreciation for the level of dedication you’ve shown.”

Selah’s mouth dropped open. Her worth came down to unlimited petrol! The price couldn’t have gotten much larger. She swelled with pride and dread all at the same moment. Now she couldn’t think of any negotiations that would kill this deal. She was doomed to a life as a wife.
Well, at least it rhymes.
She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. Needing to find something to smile about at this moment seemed a little bizarre, even for her. She’d been hoping to find a way out, but she couldn’t figure a way around something this valuable. Her mind froze as she watched the men.

They were total opposites in looks. Father was blond and gaining middle girth from Mother’s good cooking while Simeon Kingston was tall, thin, and dark-haired. Stick-bug father, stick-bug son. Selah grimaced. That was all she could think about.

Father grinned. “Unlimited petrol will be a fine payment. I told you the day we made the mistake that I wouldn’t give up.”

“I still say it wasn’t my fault,” Simeon said.

“After twenty-seven years the details get muddled, so let’s just call this a correction,” Father said.

Both men nodded and shared a dipper of water from the barrel against the side wall.

Twenty-seven years! This had started long before she was even born. How could this be?

She realized Father and Simeon were old friends with some sort of common purpose. What was the purpose, and how did it involve her? Her mind went to things young men like her brothers were known to do. Had she wound up being the future prize for some past game?

Selah felt a sneeze coming on. She panicked.
Please let them start talking to cover
the sound.
She squeezed hard on both sides of her nose. Stars began sparkling in front of her eyes.

“Cleon, bring my Sand Run and fuel it up. We’ve connected the pump,” Father yelled.

The machine revved into place at the doorway. Selah willed herself to sneeze. Naturally it refused.

Cleon shut down the machine and sauntered in. He looked at the two new barrels. “I’ll fuel the other equipment too.”

He lifted the nozzle and hose. Selah buried her face in the hay as a sneeze erupted with enough internal pressure to blow off her head. Cleon yelped and pulled his hand back from the hose. “I should file down that burr on the barrel edge before it cuts a hose.”

Selah winced at the burning in her sinuses. Her eyes watered. But it seemed no one had heard.

Father glanced at the barrel and turned back to Simeon, waiting until Cleon left. He lowered his voice. “This marriage will be the best way to ensure we control—”

The Sand Run revved again. Selah strained to hear what they were saying. She tried to watch their lips, but it didn’t help. The machine moved away.

“Are we sure about the research?” Simeon asked.

Father shook his head. “We’ve been at this all these years, and
now
you ask are we sure? Why would you even entertain a thought like that?”

“There are others saying that we’ve misinterpreted what the ancient manuscript was to mean in this day and age. Suppose we’re wrong?”

Father shrugged. “All I know is we have to keep it from happening. And if that’s wrong, then it will keep happening until it becomes right.”

“What if epigenetics are not only passed down by females?” Simeon asked.

Selah had no idea what
epigenetics
could mean or how it affected her, but she committed the word to memory.

Father jumped from his seat. “What’s wrong? Where’s this doubt coming from?”

“My wife thinks we’re misguided, though she’s excited about the prospect of having grandsons,” Simeon said.

Father shook his head. “As long as she understands there will only be boy babies. Women and female babies are something else. I know how Pasha has fawned over Selah all these years.”

Selah pulled back her chin. Fawn? Mother? She was tougher on her than on the boys any day. But wait—what was that comment about boy babies? How would he know there’d only be boy babies? What would happen to girl babies?

She let out an involuntary groan. Here she was thinking about having babies.

“That has always been our mission. Uniting our Boroughs will help us to breed more warriors,” Simeon said.

“Jericho will have to use a firm hand to control her. She’s headstrong,” Father said.

Selah pursed her lips. She wanted to scream at them. She wasn’t a possession, especially of some man she didn’t know, and they weren’t going to control her. If this needed to be a test of wills, so be it. She’d bet on them sending her back home real fast.

“Don’t worry, Jericho is up to the task. He understands the importance,” Simeon said.

Well, Selah didn’t understand. Why was she suddenly a bargaining chip between Boroughs?

“This plan is going to revolve around how well we can keep track of her for the next couple days. Raza and Cleon will need to be diligent chaperones,” Simeon added.

“We can do that, and after the marriage you will need to start the line right away,” Father said.

Simeon nodded. “Yes, Jericho knows we need him to start having children.”

Another Sand Run charged up the road and stopped in front of the barn. Selah tried to squish herself to the floor to peek out the door. All she could see were feet with heavy leather boots and a lot of buckles.

Father and Simeon stopped talking. A balding, broad-chested man in a dark tunic and leather pants strode into the barn.

“I figured you two would still be here,” the man said. He stood in the doorway with legs spread, a sour look on his face.

“Backus, we were just going to discuss Pasha’s initiator,” Father said.

Selah’s eyes widened. What did Mother have to do with this, and what was an initiator? Her heart started to pound and she feared they’d hear it. This was about more than just her wedding. What had she stumbled into? There was no way to get out of here without getting caught. But even though she wanted to run, she wanted to stay and hear the rest more.

“What about him? If I have to stay in this forsaken countryside for another generation, my mood is going to get increasingly foul,” Backus said.

Father stood and approached him. “You could have turned the job over years ago. You didn’t need to come back for this.” Selah had never seen Father act quite so confrontational. She rose on her arms to get a better look.

Simeon jumped up and put himself between the two. “All right, I know you two don’t get along and I’ve done pretty well keeping you apart these past years, but you need to settle this blood feud and move on.”

Backus pushed past Simeon and came nose to nose with Father. Selah sucked in a breath. The arms that held her up began to shake. She lowered herself to the floor, careful not to dislodge any hay through the cracks.

“Stay away from me,” Father said through clenched teeth. His face reddened as his fists clenched. Selah could see the rage building in him.

Backus, a few inches taller than Father, looked down on him. “If you do your job this time, I won’t have to come up with alternate plans.”

At those words, Father snapped. His fist shot out and he hit the
other man square in the nose. Backus swung a left and hit Father in the chest, but he moved in with another jab, hitting Backus in the face again. Backus connected with a right hook. Father pummeled the man several more times before Backus took a more combative stance. Simeon tried to pull Father off the man, but he screamed in rage.

Backus pulled a long knife from his tall leather boots. Father moved out of reach.

Simeon backed off with hands raised. “Backus, this isn’t the time to fight among us. This is the time to unite for the cause.”

Backus continued to stare at Father while addressing Simeon. “If this idiot had listened in the first place, this could have been avoided. I’m tired of cleaning up his messes.”

“My messes?” Father growled. “You killed her!” He launched himself at Backus as the man raised his knife. They stumbled a few times and fell to the barn floor. Simeon continued trying to reason with them.

The men rolled over. Backus gasped. The fight seemed to go out of Father and he fell away. Backus lay on the barn floor with the knife through his heart.

Selah covered a gasp with her hand. She watched as the area around the knife turned crimson and blood spread out across his shirt in an ever-widening circle. The man’s eyes were open, and his mouth gaped with the shape of the last sound he’d uttered.

Dead bodies were a fact of life in the Boroughs. Selah had seen many in just her short lifetime. But she had never seen her father be the cause of one. This would remain her secret forever—otherwise she’d have to admit she was spying on Father to have seen it happen.

Father scrambled away. He and Simeon stood over the body.

Simeon bent to shut the man’s eyes. “I knew something like this was bound to happen if he came back. The bad blood between you two was just too much.”

“I’m not sorry he’s dead,” Father said, a blank expression on his face. “The only thing is—”

Simeon gave a flip of his hand. “I understand. No need to explain. We’d better bury the body before we draw any undue attention.”

Father looked pensive. “Do we have the ability to do genetic testing with him out of the picture?”

“Yes, but do we want to let others in on this?” Simeon looked around. He walked to a workbench piled with tarps and grabbed one.

Father shook his head. “No, but it could save us time.” He helped Simeon wrap the body.

Selah stared. Was this a dream? The two of them were continuing on with their conversation as though nothing had happened. Meanwhile they were wrapping up a dead body. She wanted to pinch herself to see if this was one of her strange dreams but feared the noise she’d make.

A rustling to her right caught her attention. Selah slowly moved her head. A rat scurried along the right wall no more than a foot from her arm! Selah carefully tightened her whole body into a ball and squeezed her eyes shut briefly.
Please, oh please, don’t come any closer.

“We’ve got plenty of years to get it right.” Simeon smiled and reached for another tarp.

“We’d be on better footing if we knew who the initiator was,” Father said as they wrapped the additional tarp around the body and secured it with a length of rope.