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Demon? “No. Mother in the forest. In the cave.”
“Ah, that Mother. I am familiar with the stories. You came across her?”
“Yes. I killed it.”
“Killed her?”
Mara nodded. He’d thought about it nearly every day since, especially at night when he was trying to sleep.
“One of the first Wane survivors, a relic of sorts. There was much to be learned from her. It was the irrational fear from her peers that forced her into hiding. The tales of her killing all those men simply conjured up to keep people away. To stop more becoming infected. This was before it was known to be a sexually transmitted disease, of course. She was said to have had gifts. She called you Mara? Why take the name?”
Mara shrugged. He couldn’t think of a way to say it, not without sounding stupid. “I saw in its eyes.”
“Saw what exactly?”
“She knew my name.”
“I am sorry to disappoint, but it is likely she screamed the name of her perceived murderer rather than identify you as the demon of death. Perhaps made some association with those eyes of yours.” The Shadow rose and walked to the front of the room and climbed the steps.
My eyes? He’d been told many times that his eyes looked funny. He’d never seen them himself. How could he? How could they be so different from everyone else’s? Maybe they are like Silas’s. They didn’t look weird, just different. “What’s wrong with my eyes?”
The Shadow ran its hand across the black wings on the wall. “An unusual colour is all: Grey, that of a demon. Or so the old priest’s stories would have you believe. Perhaps Mother was of that time. Rest assured, young man, you are no demon.” The Shadow held out an arm. “Over here.”
Mara joined the Shadow in front of the wings. They were scratched deep in the wall.
“Our founders’ worship began upon the discovery of these wings. The Wings of Darkness. Said to have been cast into the stone by the wings of the goddess of darkness herself. Their worship had her shroud the forest in darkness to protect them in a time of war. It is her we thank for the brotherhood. She gave us our purpose.” The Shadow turned to face Mara. “Enough history for today.” It revealed a gold-handled blade in a cover. “You will be needing this. Tomorrow you advance in your training. Do not disappoint me, Mara.”
Mara took the blade. “Thank you.”
“You will learn to use it with great efficiency. Take care of it, as if it were part of you.”
Mara nodded. The blade zinged as he pulled it from the cover and shone in the candlelight. He didn’t think he’d missed it.
“Come now.” The Shadow led Mara to the door. “You will be escorted to your new room.”
It took a long time to walk through the corridors. When they arrived, he wanted to go back to his old room, to his bed. The bucket by the door stank and looked sticky. In each corner, there was a large straw-stuffed sack on the floor, each with an old sheet folded into a square. He chose a sack and sat down. It was lumpy, and there was a dark patch on one end. I wonder if there’s a bed in this place that hasn’t got blood on it?
He slumped against the wall, removed the blade from its cover, and stared into the shiny metal. He held it to his eyes but couldn’t make out their colour. When he lowered it, a tall teenage boy stared at him from the doorway. The gold handle of the boy’s blade stood out against his black clothes.
The boy walked in and sat on a sack. “You’d better get off Eliot’s bed before he gets back.”
Mara went to the opposite bed. “That’s Balin’s.”
The third sack was almost flat, most of the straw gone. Mara sat on it – he might as well have been sitting on the floor.
“What’s your name?” the boy said.
“Mara.”
“That’s a weird name. Never heard anything like that before.”
Mara shrugged.
Two more boys, both teenagers, entered the room and went to their sacks.
“His name’s Mara,” the boy said.
Eliot laughed. “That’s a girl’s name.”
