Page 95 of Fires of the Forsaken
“Two days,” he responded. “To reach Sanadrin.”
“Two days? Are we going to make it in time to help them?”
He clipped the last knife into place but said nothing.
27
Lost Years
Ishould pause my tale here to make something clear.
This part of my life was ratherunkind.Almost cruel. But I do not, nor will Iever,blame Terrick.
He could not teach me to control a volatile ability he didn’t understand. If he’d sought help, Darfield’s soldiers would have taken me away. I likely would have been forced to join the army. But Terrick feared a worse fate and did not want to see me tortured.
Moving to another city would have only provided a temporary reprieve. As long as the cursed fire ran through my veins, Terrick and I would not have been accepted anywhere.
So Terrick did what he could to ensure I had a home, and I was safe, even if it came with a cost.
Terrick was a kind man with a big heart. Cruelty had never been his intention. He simply didn’t know what else to do.
* * *
My descentinto misery started simply enough.
“This tonic will help you sleep,” Terrick told me.
We were staying in yet another livery stable, our horses tied a few feet away from us. My little speckled pony had a burn mark on his left flank. I hadn’t been able to stop staring at it.
It had been a full day since my fire ravaged the stables.
“I don’t want to sleep,” I mumbled.
“You must, lass,” Terrick coaxed. “The tonic will keep the dreams away. You won’t hurt anyone else. I promise.”
And itdidkeep the dreams away. For a while.
Months passed.
Terrick found employment at a tannery. I hated him working there. It demanded too much from his age-ravaged body. But we needed the coin.
His new position also came with lodging: a small room on the top of the shop.
When we moved into our new dwelling, Terrick wrapped me in a threadbare blanket and kept his arm around my shoulders as we climbed the stairs. “My child,” he’d said to our new landlord. “She’s quite ill.”
In hindsight, I should have questioned his motives. I was perfectly healthy. If our landlord had spared me more than a passing glance, he would have seen that. But, at the time, I’d closed my eyes, wishing I could disappear.
And I did. Terrick was, after all, a gifted Concealer. Even when he did not use his power.
* * *
I spentfour years in Darfield, trapped in that small,claustrofobic—claustrophobic room above the tannery, barred from the outside world.
That hadn’t been Terrick’s intention. He’d meant my situation to be temporary while he searched for a solution to my ever-growing power.
“Perhaps it is linked to your emotions,” he said one afternoon. “Your power seems to be at its strongest in the presence of fear or anger. If I can teach you to school your emotions…I once had several books that discussed this very topic.” A hint of sadness crept into his voice.
I turned away, burying my face in my sleeve to hide my tears.
