Frieda's Tale

Chapter 8

“Frieda! Frieda!”

Frieda jerked awake, suddenly convinced she was about to be hurt. Or worse. Her eyes hurt so badly, when she opened them, that she jammed them closed again. She came up swinging, her fist narrowly missing someone’s jaw; she reached for her magic, ready to cast a spell, only to discover it was too drained. She needed time to recover…she felt a hand on her shoulder and flinched, panic shooting through her. She was young and female and defenseless and…

“Frieda, it’s me,” Hoban said. “I’ve got you.”

Frieda relaxed, slightly. Hoban was a good guy. He’d understood, at least, why she needed to sleep alone. And yet, in her experience, there were very few true good guys. They could turn on their girlfriends without a second thought… she remembered Cat, walking away from Emily, and felt a sudden surge of hatred. He deserved to die and worse for what he’d done to Emily in her worst moments…

She put the thought out of her head and concentrated on opening her eyes. The bright sunlight lanced down, hurting so badly she thought someone had literally stabbed her in the eye. Hoban muttered a pair of pain relief charms, the effects so profound Frieda was too grateful to yell at him for casting spells on her without her permission. She leaned against him for a long moment, then turned to look at the artefact. It was still there, but… it looked dead. She hoped it was a permanent thing.

Her mouth was dry, but she managed to talk. “What… what happened to you?”

Hoban looked disturbed. “It was… it was weird,” he said, finally. “We were caught in our nightmares, aware we were dreaming and yet unable to wake up.”

Frieda nodded, wondering why the effect — whatever it was — hadn’t touched her. She’d tasted enough of the entity’s power to know it could have crushed her effortlessly, if it had realised she was a threat. She’d been a tiny little insect, compared to a giant… perhaps the entity had only been able to affect sleeping minds. Perhaps… she shook her head as she stumbled to her feet. It didn’t matter. The entity was gone.

“What happened to you?” Hoban held her gently. “And to her?”

“I killed her,” Frieda said. The words tasted like ashes in her mouth. She’d grown up in a world where some people had to be sacrificed to save the rest, but she still felt as if she’d done something wrong. “I…”

She forced herself to talk, spilling out the whole story. Hoban listened, without interruption, as she outlined everything that had happened in one terrible night. He believed her… Frieda was almost relieved, even though she knew she should have expected it. But then, he’d had a taste of the entity’s power, too. He knew it had been dangerous. She stopped, breaking off as she heard birdsong overhead. The animals were returning to the ruined village. She was sure that was a good sign.

“The artefact is falling apart,” Hoban said, when she’d finished. A dull crack echoed behind her, followed by a crash. “Whatever happened, I think you killed it.”

Frieda couldn’t bring herself to care. Her head hurt. Visions of something vast and powerful and unknowable danced behind her eyes, fading like memories of a brief meeting that ended almost as soon as it began. The entity, whatever it had been, was gone. The artefact was dying. She turned to peer towards the dig and frowned, remembering her earlier thoughts about icebergs. The artefact was cracking and breaking, fragments of semi-translucent material falling to the ground. It was slowly becoming a pile of broken glass. The aura of darkness was gone.

She looked at her boyfriend, wondering how he’d react. The artefact had been dangerous, true, but it had also been unique. The find would have made his name, if he’d been able to dig the artefact out and present it to the world. And yet… he was smart and experienced enough to know that some things were probably best left buried beneath the land for the rest of time. Frieda took a breath and waited, knowing she’d done the right thing. If he was ungrateful…

They’re often ungrateful to Emily, too, Frieda recalled, suddenly. And how many times has she saved the world?

“Probably for the best,” Hoban said, finally. “We’ll write the entire encounter up, of course, and make sure everyone knows what happened in case we encounter a second artefact. It wouldn’t be the first time…”

He shook his head. “And we’ll have to pay our respects to the headman, before we leave for good,” he added. “Are you coming?”

“I killed his son,” Frieda said, tightly. Ivanovo had been a monumental asshole — a thug, a groper, a rapist — and she’d hated him with a passion, but his father probably didn’t see it that way. Probably. Ivanovo’s father had been an asshole when he’d been younger, too. Frieda supposed most of his people would say he hadn’t changed at all. “I suppose I should tell him how his son died.”

The thought haunted her as she helped the diggers pack up the camp, then followed Hoban down to the village. The locals looked disturbed, as though nightmares had swept over the land, although their memories would be gone soon enough. They didn’t have time to dwell on them. She looked at the distant mountains and shuddered. It might be summer now, but winter was coming. If the villagers weren’t ready for the cold, they wouldn’t live to see another summer.

She glanced at her father’s shack as they made their way to the headman’s hut. She wanted to go and speak to them one final time and, at the same time, she wanted to turn her back and never see them again. She understood why they’d sold her — and part of her would always be grateful, even though they couldn’t have been sure where she was going or what would happen to her — but she also hated them. They’d sacrificed her to ensure the remainder of the family would live to see another year…

And there’s no point dwelling on it now, she told herself. You won’t be coming back.

The headman eyed them both nervously. “My Lord,” he said. “What happened?”

“The artefact proved to be very dangerous,” Hoban said, shortly. He didn’t go into details. The last thing they needed was someone looking for another one. “And I’m afraid your son was consumed when it tried to come to life.”

Frieda watched Ivanov closely as Hoban’s words sank in. Did he know what Ivanovo had been doing? Had he been quietly encouraging his son to do… to do what? Frieda suspected the artefact had been playing everyone for fools, offering them whatever they wanted in exchange for sacrifices… and twisting their minds, so when the time came they offered themselves without hesitation. Had Ivanovo been alone? Or had there been more than a handful of locals involved? Or… she shook her head. It wasn’t her problem. The remnants of the gang would either run for their lives or be hunted down and killed by the local aristocracy.

“My son…” Ivanov let out a deep shuddering breath. “I… why?”

“You raised him to be a little monster,” Frieda said, curtly. Old hatreds bubbled through her, fueling her magic. It would be easy, so easy, to give the headman a taste of what she’d endured at the hands of his son. A single spell, little more than a joke at Whitehall, would break him so completely he would never recover. “You let him run wild and…”

She shuddered. “Do better with your younger son. And don’t even think about letting him run wild again.”

The headman’s face was blank, but Frieda knew what he was thinking. He couldn’t strike at her, but he could strike at her family. The moment the diggers turned their backs and left, her parent and siblings would be kicked out of the village or simply beaten to death. It wouldn’t be hard, either, for Ivanov to convince the rest of the villagers to get rid of her family. She’d cursed a bunch of young lads…

She felt conflicted. Her parents were her… parents. They’d birthed her, raised her… and then sold her, to save the rest of the family. She loved them and hated them and she wanted to go to them and she wanted never to see them again. And… she told herself she owed her parents one thing. Just one.

“My parents are under my protection,” she told Ivanov, meeting his eyes in a manner few village girls would dare. She smiled inwardly as she saw the headman recoil. Young women were meant to be neither seen nor heard, let alone challenge the headman openly. They were lucky there were no villagers to witness the scene. “If you hurt them, because of me, you’ll spend the rest of your life in a pigsty.”

The headman flinched. “Yes.”

Frieda pushed her advantage. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, My Lady,” Ivanov managed. “I won’t harm them.”

“Good.” Frieda knew she was bluffing. There was no way she could cast a lingering spell of protection over her parents, not without spending the rest of her life in the village. But it was unlikely the headman would try to call her bluff. He had too many enemies. If they knew he’d been turned into a pig, they’d chop him up and turn him into dinner. “And I hope we never see each other again.”

She stepped outside, leaving Hoban to say their goodbyes and ensure the ruined village and cave network would be left untouched for a few years, at least until a new team of diggers could come to study the carvings. The air was fresh and cold, clearer than she recalled from their first visit… the looming shadow of the artefact was gone. She frowned as she looked towards her father’s shack, wondering if she should go see her parents before dismissing the idea once and for all. They’d kicked her out, disowned her, sold her. She owed them nothing, nothing beyond ensuring the headman wouldn’t lash out at them for daring to be related to her. She couldn’t walk back into their lives and stay there, not any longer. They were just too far apart.

Hoban joined her, a moment later. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah.” Frieda mentally planned the week. They’d go down to the nearest city, report to Hoban’s superiors, and then… they could go somewhere else. She had time before she had to go back to school for her final year. Who knew? Maybe she’d have a chance to meet up with Emily, again, before she returned to her apprenticeship. “Let’s go.”

She took one final look at the village, knowing deep inside she’d never return, then turned and walked away. It was time to go back where she belonged.