Chapter Seventeen

The sun was shining through the broken, dirty window when Garrett awoke in that cottage the next morning. He yawned a little and sat up. It was cold. He shuddered in the weak sunlight and huddled in the blanket a little longer until he could adjust to the cold.

He'd had a dreamless sleep. Frowning slightly, he wondered how long it had been since the last time he'd really dreamed. A very long time. Gaze dropping, he noted that he didn't even remember what the last dream he'd had had been.

He reached out for the bag Mrs. Tanner had given him and looked through what was packed. It was, for the most part, fruits... bread... some things that would go bad over the course of a month, but being a witch, Mrs. Tanner probably had dome something to it to keep it from aging too quickly. Garrett wasn't sure he liked that thought, but he might as well eat it, so as to not starve. He set aside an apple for later when he was in the mood and sat up a little straighter.

It was cold. Sighing a little, he wished he could light a fire here, but was afraid to. Should something go wrong, it wouldn't take much for the place to burn to ashes. He'd had enough of buildings turning to ashes in his lifetime. He didn't want that to happen to the one source of shelter that he could find, out here in the middle of nowhere.

“It's strange,” he mused in a whisper, “not to wake up in Mrs. Tanner's guest bedroom.” Leaning back against the cold cottage wall, he wondered what he was going to do here, just waiting to be caught and perhaps killed.

He considered going for a walk later, when he had finally adjusted to the cold outside. He didn't like the trees anymore. The night before they hadn't helped as much as they normally would... as much as they had when he'd lived as a shadow.

He didn't remember this cottage. He had never seen it when he was a shadow. Maybe he really hadn't ever strayed too far from the town of Tristan. He had liked it there. He wanted to go back.

Why must things like this happen to me? he thought sadly, closing his eyes and trying to push the sleep away. Whatever did I do to deserve this?

He had probably done something to deserve it, but forgotten. He hated that he had forgotten everything that he was... everything that he had ever been. It wasn't fair.

Swearing a little under his breath, he forced himself to his feet and shuddered in the cold – frigid – air. He needed something to do, something to distract himself, but in such an empty, lonely place, there was nothing.

He stepped out of the cottage with the apple in his hand, but was sure that he probably wouldn't eat it. He was in such a bad mood it wasn't even funny. After having grown accustomed to the nice, warm guest bedroom in which he'd been staying for days, suddenly waking up on the cold, hard, damp ground in a rotting cottage in the middle of nowhere sucked. It really did.

He wished he could head back to see Cherise again, but knew that that would not be possible. He knew that he would have to wait a month in this unpleasant little hole – unless he died before that. And in the meanwhile, he needed something to do.

He turned to study better the place in which he had spent the night. It looked like it had once been a very nice place. He could imagine nice flower gardens beneath the shattered windows. The door, which had fallen to the ground due to rusted and broken hinges, was a faded white. The outside wall itself appeared to have been once a tan – or brown? It was impossible to tell anymore. A long time of rain had washed it all away.

Sighing softly, he turned away and wondered why it had been abandoned in the first place. He thought that he could probably go for a walk to distract himself... but not without The Silent One.

Garrett reentered the broken little cottage and reached into the leather bag for his – Mrs. Tanner's – sword. He didn't feel safe without it. If he came face-to-face with Her it would do no good, but it would be a worthy defense against any other sort of attack.

Still very annoyed, he left the cottage and entered the trees, making a mental map so that he would be able to find his way back later.

Every tree looked the same yet different. They didn't look friendly, which was the one thing they had in common. They didn't like him if he wasn't a shadow. They didn't like a strange human wandering around disturbing the peace that usually existed between them. He tried not to look at them as he paced slowly through the trees, heading nowhere in particular; he just needed to get away.

His muscles ached from the unpleasant sleep on the hard cottage floor. He had to remind himself, when rubbing away the soreness, that at least he didn't have to sleep on the prickly grass with cold rain and air stinging at his face. Weakening as it was, the roof had kept him safe.

Once more he had nowhere to go but his old memories, and nothing to do but revisit new ones. Or at least try to, because they had – for the most part – slipped away from him.

Where had he been the day before?

Ah, yes. Elinor.

He had been brainstorming over the ring that remained in his pocket. Well, that brainstorming wasn't really getting him anywhere. He still had no idea why it was in his pocket instead of with Ellie in her grave somewhere deep, deep south. Of course, the grave itself must have disappeared as well. The witch had gotten rid of everything while creating her evil path of destruction, and even the dead had been disturbed.

After a few minutes he slowed down and looked at the sword once more. For some reason it felt good to be holding a sword again, as if it was one of the many things that had been missing for the past six hundred years. He had never really been that good at fighting, but suddenly having a weapon with him... perhaps it was waking the warrior within him that should have woken up centuries ago. After all, he had still had time back at home before he had to master it all. More than enough time had passed, and now he wanted to fight someone. And yet, he just wanted to survive. How to fight someone without dying?

The Silent One provided Garrett with no answers. He sighed a little and decided that it probably didn't like him either.

He wished that there was someone here who he could challenge. He didn't know why he had the sudden urge to challenge somebody. Nobody was here, though, and even if there had been he probably wouldn't speak to them at all... he was so horribly untrained... he'd fail in a real fight.

“I haven't been in a real fight in so long,” Garrett mumbled, not sure if he was speaking to himself, The Silent One, or just air. “I'd either lose... or kill somebody by accident.” He smiled despite himself at the thought. Kill somebody by accident. That was worse than killing someone intentionally... right?

Killing someone intentionally, killing someone accidentally. He thought, at this point, that both of them were the same... except that killing someone accidentally, you might regret killing them. Of course, that could be also the case killing them intentionally. The guilt could always catch up with you later.

He remembered that night, so long ago, when he had lost everybody. Still gazing at the sword, he tried to recount everything he could recall from that terribly event.

He remembered that, until It had happened, it had been a pleasant birthday party. Everyone had been happy and laughing. Nobody would have been able to guess that It would have happened...

As he stared at his reflection on the blade of the sword, memories began to hit him, one after another, as if stones were being thrown at him.

Wake up, they screamed at him, wake up!

He remembered how bright the ballroom had been. He remembered the colorful ball gowns and the large banquet table. He remembered, at the beginning, the look of ecstasy on his sister Christina's face. He remembered his friends. He remembered his father. Everyone except Ellie...

Had Elinor even been there?

Still frowning at his own face on the blade, he strained his memory. No. Elinor had not been there... he just knew it. He tried to remember why Ellie would have missed such a great event, but nothing came to him. It just seemed so out-of-character of her. Elinor would not have missed such an event... it had been the party of the year...

Of course, he reminded himself bitterly, it had been the last party of the year.

“Why wasn't Ellie there?” he whispered, baffled.

More memories were teasing at him. They wanted to return to him, but couldn't. Something was playing at the back of his mind as to why Elinor had not been at the party. He wracked his brain to try and remember it, but it was not coming to him. This was so frustrating.

“It's not fair,” he whispered, slowly running a finger down the blade of the sword. “I want to know. I need to know. I deserve to know!”

The Silent One did not respond, and he rolled his eyes at himself, wondering why he was expecting to get an answer from a sword. It wasn't even his sword.

Suddenly not liking the sword as much, he continued his trudge on in no direction in particular. A few minutes passed and he began to eat the apple out of sheer boredom. Then he heard a noise behind him and froze.

Somebody was behind him. Slowly, he turned and wondered if he still remembered how to defend himself with a sword.

But it wasn't somebody that he would want to fight with. It was Beth... Her little spy.

She didn't look like she was about to do anything harmful to him – not that she could, she was so thin and frail-looking. She just stood there, watching him.

Finally, he decided that he was the one with the power here, unless she had an armada hiding in the trees behind her. “Now what?” he demanded of her irritably. “Now what do you want? Got a dagger hiding in your pocket?”

Beth shook her head. “No.” It was a slow reply. She wasn't certain of herself.

“Then why are you here? Are you headed off to tell Her that I'm hiding? Are you going to show her where I am so she can have me beheaded?”

Beth smiled guiltily. “Not that either.”

“Then what do you want, spy?”

Beth winced. She didn't seem to like being called a spy, but Garrett didn't care. That was what she was, and she did her job quite well. “I just wanted to tell you that you're staying in my house.”

“What?”

“I used to live there.”

Confused silence followed.

“Do you still live there?”

“No,” Beth whispered, taking a step back, as if his very voice terrified her. “I just thought you might like to know why it's there... and why it's in that condition.”

“Well, do you want me to leave?”

“No! Not at all. But weren't you curious?”

Garrett's frown deepened. “Yes.” He couldn't lie.

Beth smiled weakly again and retreated into the trees. “Be careful,” she called over her shoulder. “The thing's in bits and pieces. The floor could collapse beneath you.”

“Why do you care?” Garrett retorted as she hurried away. “For all I know, you're probably going to send an army after me right now.”

She didn't respond. Within seconds she was gone. He sighed impatiently and turned away. Why me? Why?

He finished the apple, in a worse temper than he'd been when he'd woken up, and wondered if that might have been the ideal time to test his fighting skills out on someone.

No, he thought. I'm better than that. If I'm going to die, I'm going to die with a clean conscience.

Then he realized where he was heading. He was heading back to Tristan. No doubt the thought of Cherise was still in his mind. He shut his eyes tight and hurried away in the opposite direction, back to the stupid rotten little cottage. Beth's house. He'd rather be in Mrs. Tanner's guest bedroom, waiting for a visit from Cherise later on. No... it seemed unlikely that that would happen ever again.