Marek (Buried Lore Book 1) by Gemma Liviero Page B

‘scat’ and they
bobbed out of sight like sparrows.
    One
man addressed me but, while experiencing another dizzy spell, I did not catch
what he was saying. There seemed an invisible wall around me that bent and
contracted, and just for a moment their faces were out of focus.
    The
man repeated his question: ‘ Why are you here?
Strangers are not welcome.’ The men were sun-weathered and strong and some wore
daggers on their belts. One of them stood and moved to the door behind us.
Something about this was menacing and Celeste took a step closer to me.
    ‘We
are heading north. I go in search of my sister, and my friend here is also
searching for her family. We have spent a week travelling through the woods and
seek shelter for the night out of the cold. And we are hungry.’ Already I had
lost weight around my shoulders and Celeste’s nose was red and peeled from the
whipping needles of cold air.
    ‘Where
are you from?’ asked the speaker of the group. He was a square jawed man with
thick wrists. Several of his teeth were missing and he wore a red scarf around
his neck to signify leadership. The backs of his knuckles were purple and blue,
and several of the men’s faces were bruised from fighting. They were rough, the
sort of men who could turn on you if you said the wrong thing.
    I
explained about my island but left out any details about Celeste.
    ‘So far south? How do you speak our language so fluently?’
    It
was more an accusation than a question. Language?
    Celeste
looked at me frowning. She was wearing the same question in her face. I was
speaking an eastern language that I did not know I knew. Could it have been my
mother’s influence? Could it perhaps be one of the benefits of my craft? It
would explain the nausea and the slight weakness in my knees when the child
first came to speak with me. Any use of the gift weakened me temporarily.
    ‘My
mother taught me.’ I said. ‘She came from these parts.’ I felt the eyes of the
men burning into me.
    ‘Well,
for silver you can sleep in the barn behind this house.’
    He
walked over to me for one final look, to make sure I would not be a threat in
any way. Suddenly I was worried about Celeste. The men had the same look as a
falcon before it swoops on its prey. Several who were bored with us turned back
to their game. One held up a glass of clear liquid inviting me to share with
them and I shook my head. The man scowled and nodded to his friends. I had
insulted him. I remembered what my father said – that men who do not mix
with other men are guilty of something, and likely to be watched. But something
told me that I would need my full senses that night, and perhaps leaving Celeste
in the barn alone, for any length of time, might be unwise.
    The
leader barked instructions to a woman who was working quietly behind them. He
was keen to get back to his game. The woman led us outdoors to find that the
group of children hovering outside had grown. They were calling us life-takers
and other names I did not understand.
    The
woman waved her arms and yelled for them to go away. I asked the woman why they
were so hostile towards us. She was reluctant to speak at first, her eyes
darting around her to see if anyone was listening.
    She
looked me up and down and stared at Celeste, then shrugged. She agreed I was
probably harmless – my lack of guile apparent. I was still just a boy in
many ways.
    ‘Evil
witches,’ she whispered. ‘They wander the land in search of people to implant
their evil souls. They commit the most unspeakable horrors in their stolen
bodies. If they don’t steal your body then they steal your blood.’
    I
forced a laugh.
    ‘Some
people have died in strange ways in this village. Wandered too far away and
then not returned. We have found their bodies, those that have not been eaten
by the wolves anyway. Their bodies are lifeless and not a drop of blood left in
them.’
    I
felt the cold prickling of fear at the back of my neck. I was relieved not