Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Txälina

There are some information i had expunged from this story. Some things I ought to have mentioned. I left it out mostly because I have long since inhumed those memories.

But perhaps rewinding back to how it all started would give you a clearer view of some things, how I discovered the voice in my head. The strange, soothing voice that was both intriguing and powerful.

…

Klämy, my mother, hovered near the fish pond. The air was muggy and hot, a reminder that this was the end of summer. Her frail hands roved through the water as if she might dredge something vital from the bottom. She watched the fish whooshing along, a beautiful sight worth observing, until she caught her reflection.

Her face morphed, muscles twitching at the sight of her image. Bruises marred her cheekbones, old scars stippled across her jaw. The rich reddish brown of her skin had paled to ashen. She traced her cheeks with tentative hands, uncertain if this was truly her reflection. Her gown was frayed and smudged with dirt, her sandals split.

She grimaced, stirring the water to dissipate her reflection quickly. It splintered into a dozen rippling images.

A shadow flitted across her eyes. Klämy lifted her head to see a beautiful woman standing in the clearing, dressed in a long white gown. Her silk hair fell over her shoulders. Her skin was pale as moonlight. Klämy gave her a bristled stare.

"Klämy, my dear?"

Klämy submerged her hands into the water, the clean pond rinsing the grime from her skin.

"Anäsang says Säli women resent me. Some doubt I even exist."

"Don't behave as if you can't hear me."

Klämy was seething beneath her calm expression.

"How much of that loathsome tea have you consumed to rid yourself of your husband's seed?"

"He is not my husband!" Klämy snapped, her voice palpable with pain and anger.

Säli stepped forward, her gown swishing through the breeze.

"Stop," the word unfurled from Klämy's throat.

Säli halted.

"Have we not prayed right?" Klämy asked.

"You prayed very well. But not all prayers are answered in mortal ways."

Klämy grimaced at Säli's words.

"Then you revel in it," she murmured. "You indulge in the misery of Säli women."

"All we seek is peace. For our daughters to be spared. For our sons not to be whisked from our arms after birth." Tears rolled down Klämy's cheeks. "I had a child. He was stolen from me. Now he regards me with enmity. And you expect me to bear more children for that bastard?"

She cried.

"All I desire is for this torment to end, for that monster who calls himself my husband to die."

"It is done."

"What?" Klämy asked, her brows pinching.

Wind stirred the pond, turning the surface murky.

"Your husband… A few days from now, he will depart for hunting. He will be killed by his prey."

Klämy narrowed her eyes.

Säli stared back at her.

For a moment, Klämy mulled, her heart leaden with thoughts.

"This," she murmured, nuzzling her belly. "I want this thing inside me gone. I have sought to rid myself of it, but it still lives. I cannot bring another babe into this world with the prospect of it being a boy. I do not want to have his child."

Säli's gaze softened.

"You cannot annihilate what does not belong to him," Säli said.

Klämy stared at her warily. "What are you saying?"

"The child is mine. She will weave her own fate and deliver the Säli women from this hardship."

For nineteen years, I questioned if I was that child Säli prophesied. Or if, in reality, I had been swapped at birth. Surely someone else was meant to be the instrument of salvation.

When I was ten, my mother married a stranger, not by volition but through fright.

After a few weeks, her belly swelled beneath her gown. When the time came, she labored through the full moon night. The midwives did everything they could, but in the end, it was Säli who decided if she would survive or not.

She did live. But when she was told she had borne a son, her scream reverberated through the room.

"No… no…"

I thought, absurdly, that having a brother was good. I was glad for him, a brother, a friend. But my mother could not look at him without shedding tears.

The warriors came the next night while she was nursing him. I believed in my childish thoughts that they were there to protect us. But when they strode into our house, the look on their faces shattered that belief.

"It's a boy," one of them said.

"Hand him over, woman."

"No. You took the first one. I won't let you take him!"

The midwives tried to soothe her in our native tongue, but she refused to oblige.

My mother lurched to her feet and went to the room. She returned with a dagger in her hand. It was no ordinary dagger but an ash dagger meant to kill a Werewolf. She hurled it across the room. It impelled itself into the chest of the warrior. 

A pervasive silence filled the room.

Then the other warrior standing, lunged at my mother, throttling her against the wall. He wrenched the dagger free and drove it into her heart.

The voice that tore from my throat was ancient. It didn't sound like mine.

"Get away from her!" I commanded.

The warrior's hand fell, his eyes tethered to mine.

"You'll end your life with that dagger," I said, my voice sounded like that of an old woman.

His hand moved against his will, jostling the blade into his own chest. His eyes widened as he sank it deep.

He staggered, then fell.

I sprinted to my mother, cowering at her side. Every inch of my body felt like thousands of shards of glass were embedded in my skin.

The midwives hurried to me. In a whisper, as my mother's eyes fluttered closed, she said, "You must never speak of this. Never let them know about the voice."

My mother died that night. My brother followed a few days later. He was claimed by fever.

…

I had that voice in my head for years, surfacing only beneath the full moon. The voice belonged to Säli. I should fear it, for if the Elders knew, they would kill me.

The daughters of Säli once spoke with the voice. We were her favorites among all seven packs in the Ngäerawa realm.

We could command anyone. But that was once in the past, because the women no longer carried the voice.

I have not spoken it since that night, because to speak is to remember. And remembering makes me weak. Even now, as Mätxin trailed his fingers along my neck and arms, I could only close my eyes.

I despised him. I despised the smug smile on Kaluen's face. I despised them all.

"Have you forgotten the agreement?" Kaluen asked, drawing close. "You're not to touch her prior to descending the role of Beta to me."

Mätxin withdrew his hands, a smirk lingering on his face. He was beautiful, of course, smooth olive skin, his hair braided.

They have been conspiring, and I have been eavesdropping, hoping things might not go as planned.

The full moon is only a few days away.

I slowly poured wine into their goblets, watching them revel in their conversation.

"Really?" Mätxin asked, taking a sip. "Then we make it look like his whores killed him. The King would never suspect us."

Kaluen laughed softly. "The King has an immutable belief that the Säli women are dangerous. That plan works perfect."

"They're feeble," Mätxin said. "The only thing worth fearing is the voice, but it has long since dissipated."

"And Alpha Wyränkla? He's a menace."

"Aye," Mätxin said, a hard glint in his eyes. "He's proved vigorous, but in truth he's weak. I can take him down."

Kaluen smiled, rising to his feet. "The pack will be ours anon."

"Mine," Mätxin corrected, his hands snaking around my waist.

Kaluen stared at him, veiled darkness in his eyes. He slowly lifted his goblet, sipping his wine.

I scowled. Even the rank of Beta would never satiate him. He was ambitious for more.