Redemption, M J Marlow [best way to read ebooks TXT] 📗

Redemption

The sun was just beginning to rise over the mountains when the raven-haired girl slipped out of one of the huts in the village. Around her, the sounds of others stirring to begin their days struck her ears, but she did not pause. She had been given a chore, and she could not fail. Disobedience or laziness was not tolerated, and she was still smarting from the last beating her uncle had given her. She glanced at the mountains a moment, wondering what it was like on the other side. Here in the southern lands, villages and farms dotted the landscape, protected from the wars and struggles in the north by the borderland clans on the other side of those mountains. She had heard the stories about the people in the borderlands, and wondered if they were true. Depending on whom you asked, they were either ill-mannered barbarians, or courtly yet war-like protectors.
“To your chores, Marit!”
The girl jumped as her uncle’s harsh voice cut through her reverie. She saw him leaning in the doorway of the family hut, filling his pipe. His dark eyes were cold as he glared at her. He had been watching her even more closely this past year; as if he were afraid she would wander off. She was still shivering at the remembrance of how his sallow face had lit with delight last night when he had given her his news: he had sold her! By the end of the week she would be on her way to some other land; belong to a man she had never met. At 15, she was old enough to have a family of her own, Marit knew; but something about being sold like a cow or a piece of property did not sit right with her. Of course, she had not been stupid enough to voice her opinions to her uncle.
“Just think of it, Hanni,” Horis had chortled to his wife only that morning. “Selling the girl brought enough for us to improve this village for at least a decade.”
“But, Horis,” Hanni had frowned and look very nervous. “What about…”
“They can argue it over with the man Marit now belongs to,” Horis had broken in; shooting his wife a warning look.
Marit found the bucket and went to fill it with water for the expectant cows being held in the pens. It was a pleasant day for early Spring, with a slight chill in the air hinting that winter had only just left them. The breeze pulled playfully at her rich black hair, teasing tendrils out of the braid that hung to her knees as she stood gazing out into the distance. She found herself wondering, briefly, why the sunlight was pulsing over the hills. It pulled her mind to it and she found herself standing in a chamber, where she saw a woman who looked a great deal like herself sitting on a window ledge. She was looking out over a rich valley where wolves and other animals moved without threat. The woman raised her head, rich black hair flowing around her body, and her emerald green eyes seemed to be looking directly at Marit. She wanted the girl to come to her; needed the girl, Marit, to come to her. Marit started moving in the direction of that call, heedless of the cattle escaping from the pen whose gate she had forgotten to secure behind her as the call came.
“Marit!”
Her movements were brought up short by the cold, angry voice of her uncle. She froze a moment, frowning in puzzlement as she saw that she was in the middle of the fields, and then turned her head to see the dark haired man striding towards her. His thick brown hair flowed out behind him, threatening to remove his headband; the mark of status. But it was the expression on his hawk-like face that warned her she was in trouble. His anger was quite apparent as he grabbed her arm and she whimpered in pain. The whip was already in his hand and she knew she was going to be punished.
“You left the gate open, girl!” Horis Tun snarled as he grabbed her thick black braid in his large hand and led her towards the cattle pen on the outskirts of the village. “The cows are loosed.”
“I did not mean to leave it open, Uncle Horis,” Marit said softly, still confused as she remembered the urgency in that call. “But…”
“There is no excuse, girl!” Horis snapped. “The men are going to have to go round them up now; wasting time they could not spare.” He saw her turning her head back towards the hills and knew she was not listening. “You must learn to keep your mind on your task!”
He yanked her over to the pen and bound her wrists to the top rail. As she realized his intent, Marit’s eyes widened in shock. Horis was going to whip her out in the open for all in the village to see. He usually kept such punishments for the privacy of their hut. His anger cleared the last vestiges of trance from her mind. Horis ripped open the back of her shirt, letting it fall aside, and Marit did not argue. It was always much worse for her when she argued or complained about what he was doing.
“Elder Horis,” a tall, gray-haired man froze as he saw what was happening on his way to help the youth with the cows. “Is this necessary?”
“It is her due!” Horis hissed at the man. “Go back to your duties, Willem!”
Marit watched the man move off, his eyes meeting hers uneasily as he went. This was the grandfather of her closest friend, Susa. He and his family had always done whatever they could to help her. But not even Willem would disobey a direct order from her uncle. Horis ruled the rest of the village as he did her and his wife, with a very strict hand. Marit bit her lip, knowing that she was going to be in a lot of pain. Did she not deserve it, she asked herself as she saw the young men running after the cattle? She had given everyone more work to do in her carelessness.
“When are you going to learn to pay heed?” he snapped as the whip fell. He continued whipping her until she was on her knees, sobbing. He yanked her head up by the hair and glared down at her. “You’ll pay attention next time, won’t you, child?”
“Yes, Uncle,” Marit sobbed. She whimpered as he let her go and her head hit the rail, stunning her.
“I do not delight in punishing you, niece,” Horis sighed as he stroked her hair. He helped her to her feet with a gentleness that had been lacking during the punishment. “You know why this was necessary.”
“I was wrong to take my mind from my task,” Marit nodded; so weary from the pain coursing through her now that she was beginning to doze off. “I will pay greater heed.”
“That you will,” Horis nodded, as he cut her loose. He struck her cheeks lightly to rouse her and turned her towards their hut. “Go to your aunt now and have her tend you.”
Marit nodded and moved away as quickly as she could, shivering in pain. No other uncle she knew of in the village treated his niece in such a fashion, but she could not complain. Horis Tun was the village elder; there was no one above him to complain to. Her aunt, Hanni, was thoroughly cowed by her mate; she would not listen to anything Marit had to say. She would simply remind her that she should be grateful that her uncle had taken her in when her parents had died. Marit had lost count the number of times her aunt had slapped her for crying out in anger or despair at her ill treatment.
“What did you do this time, child?” her golden-haired aunt, Hanni, asked as Marit came into the hut, holding her shirt to her body. She made the girl sit down and got out the salve. “Your mind is wandering more and more every day, Marit. If you do not learn how to control it, you will end up dead.”
“Think of the money Uncle would lose,” Marit said bitterly. She cried out as Hanni slapped the back of her head. “I am sorry, Aunt Hanni. I meant no disrespect.”
“You are a stupid girl, Marit Tun,” Hanni sighed as she continued applying the salve. “Your uncle does not ask that much from you. But you must insist on mind wandering and creating problems for him.”
“I don’t do it on purpose,” Marit protested.
“It doesn’t matter, girl,” Hanni sighed. She saw the healing salve working and nodded. “Put on a fresh shirt and start preparing supper. Your uncle will be displeased if it is not on the table on time.”
Marit nodded and did as she was told. Her uncle had many ways of making his displeasure known. Marit knew most of them by now. But his punishments seemed to have no effect. Her mind still wandered as it would. She got a bucket and went out to the well in the center of the town square to get some water. She saw a cloud of dust to the north and frowned. They were expecting no visitors; and travelers to their village were quite rare. She couldn’t help it; she stopped and Horis had to come find her. He dragged her to their hut and took her to her room.
“Didn’t we just have a talk about you letting your mind wander?” he snapped as he slapped her across the face. “What am I going to do with you, Marit?”
She was not looking at him, but out of her window. It faced the hills to the north. Horis lowered his hand and his eyes followed hers. He could hear the sounds of men riding into the village and went to the door. He looked out and his expression grew dark and angry. The visitors were obviously not welcome. He came back to Marit and slugged her across the face. She collapsed and was completely unaware as he carried to the trapdoor for the cellar beneath the hut and let her fall. She hit a stack of crates on the way down and came back to awareness; screaming as pain shot through her. Horis kicked her as she moaned in pain, ignoring how pale she was. Then he left the hut and motioned to Marit’s friend, Susa. The girl was slow to come and he slapped her.
“My niece has had an accident in our cellar,” he told the girl. “You will stay with her until the raiders are gone,” he ordered coldly, and saw the girl pale. “Do not leave the cellar for any reason, Susa. She must be kept safe.”
“Marit?” Susa cried as she sank down next to Marit and saw the bruises on her face and wrists. “What has he done to you now?” She found a water bag and a cloth and used it to help Marit rouse. “He was far too angry.”
“I’ve broken something, Susa,” Marit whimpered as Susa helped her sit up. “I can feel it.” She laid her hand on her side and closed her eyes, using her gift to mend the break in her ribcage. The effort was draining her; especially since the whipping had still not healed completely. Her head was aching, blurring her vision. She had to give up, leaving the mending only