Page 23 of To Free a Soul (Duskwalker Beginnings #2)

The tip of a pointed quill meeting cheap paper scratched in Lindiwe’s ears. The glide left behind a neat stroke of ink as she held a wooden ruler to the page to ensure a perfectly straight line. As the black ink dried, the glossy sheen reflected the sunlight peeking through a beautiful bay window.

In the background, two fireplaces on either side of the spacious library were carefully maintained by multiple human attendants. The area was quiet and peaceful, and she went unnoticed as she worked.

Craning her neck to the side, she rubbed at a corded knot where her nape met her shoulder.

She winced at the pain, pushed in hard to loosen it, and then tried to ignore the twinge as she curled back over the low writing desk.

She double-checked the page of the book she was copying to make sure she had recorded the directions and measurements correctly.

She didn’t follow everything exactly, instead simplifying the steps in a way that someone who wasn’t a master craftsman could emulate easily.

Of course he’ll need help reading the words and numbers. Then again, she truly thought it would be idiotic on his companion’s part to not assist. She asked for this, so she’d better be thankful.

Well, Katerina hadn’t asked Lindiwe, but demanding that Orpheus find her somewhere suitable, like a house, in the Veil was rather ridiculous. Almost as if... the woman was looking for an excuse to dislike her son by asking for something that was entirely impossible.

So here Lindiwe was, gathering all the knowledge he’d need so she could prove to the woman that her son was good. That he was of higher thought and could be taught everything, provided he had a willing teacher.

She could have stolen the book rather than meticulously copying it, but she tried not to be a thief where possible. She didn’t mind doing the work, so long as it would be put to good use.

Once she was done, she flicked through the pages of furniture that could be hand built and found things like a table, chair, bed, and even a counter. She also squished onto a single page how to make a low-quality fence. Nothing needed to be fancy, only practical.

Warm shelter. It was more than Lindiwe had all these past years.

Seeing as she had a few blank pages left, she tapped the brown feather of the quill against her lips.

I guess... the only other thing I can think of is how to sow a small garden. Lindiwe had helped her father farm, so she didn’t think it would be a hard task to make a fruit and vegetable patch. I’m glad I found all those seeds now.

Done with the library, she wiped the quill tip on a pad to clean it, pushed the cork into the ink bottle, and stood. An attendant was kind enough to take them from her so they could be placed in their correct homes.

The smell of dust pervaded her nostrils even when she left the library and escaped into the fresh late-afternoon air. She flared them, then rubbed the tip of her nose to help rid herself of the musty smell of old books.

Bright sunlight pierced her eyes, so she placed her hand above her brow to shield them as she looked down the street. People were still walking around, and many of the stores were thankfully still open. In an hour, it would be a very different story.

Although Ashpine City was protected from the Demons by the Anzúli temple that sat on the top of a large hill, people still feared the night. They hid away in their homes and barely made a peep, as if any noise would alert the nightmarish beasts of their presence.

It likely helped, as the stone walls surrounding the large and lush city had scent-cloaking enchantments aiding them. Unless a Demon came this way out of curiosity, they were invisible by smell.

The southland border helps too. They would likely finish building it in a decade, but it was a task that’d been underway for nearly half a century.

The border crossed the southernmost part of Austrális, and every log they staked into the ground was another foot the Demons couldn’t easily get through.

A few citizens of Ashpine regarded Lindiwe warily as she walked past them, her snowy-coloured feathers catching people’s attention. She ignored them and found the merchant who sold nails for building and repairing.

She stopped to purchase three large crates.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright to carry them on your own, missy?” the man asked, raising a blond brow at her when she picked one wooden crate up.

“I’ll be fine, thank you.” She forced a smile on her face as she pretended it wasn’t heavy. “My husband is right around the corner, and he’ll take it from me.”

He tipped his black hat to her. “Well, alright then. Let me know if you change your mind. I’ll be waiting here for you to collect the rest.”

She nodded and then proceeded to walk along one building before entering a narrow alleyway. She placed the crate upon the ground, covered it in black mist so an unsuspecting eye wouldn’t notice it, and did this twice more with the other two crates.

After brushing her hands of dirt and potential splinters, she placed them on her hips. Those slats of wood from the crates would be good to repurpose into a fence. I’ll make sure to note that in the journal, so they can use them for the garden.

She ducked out of the alleyway to find a craftsman store that sold hammers, axes, shovels, and saws.

There, she also found a handheld manual drill and bought that just in case.

She had to visit multiple other merchants to buy thick twine and rope, a crowbar, and a sharpening stone.

The last item was a bark spud, which was much harder to find than she’d expected.

By the time she was done, sweat slicked down her temples and the nape of her neck, even in the cool autumn air. At the twinge she felt in her back, she winced but tried to ignore it. Any tenderness was soon to fade away permanently.

Kneeling in the shroud of shadows made by the two buildings, she rearranged everything in a certain way and then sat on top of the crates and items. She turned incorporeal, checked to make sure everything shifted with her, and nodded once to herself.

“Weldir. I’m ready.”

“Are you sure? I think there’s something you’re missing. Another box of nails, perhaps?”

Her lips quirked with humour, but she skilfully managed to stem the urge. Instead, she folded her arms and kicked a leg impatiently.

“No need to look so pouty.”

“I’m not pout–” But her words cut off as she, and all her purchases, dropped into darkness.

Before any of the items could pull away from her in the floating nothingness, blobs of Weldir’s magic attached themselves to each item. He pushed them all together in preparation for her to take them away again.

She kicked off and shot through the void towards Weldir.

“How are they?” she asked, placing her hand on his shoulder to steady herself from going face-first into the viewing disc.

He rotated them all as if they were on the convex side of a ball, and Orpheus came into view. Katerina sat between Orpheus’ legs and appeared to be huddling in for warmth.

I guess that’s a good sign.

Although the Veil was warmer than the surface in the winter, and cooler in the summer, it was still the snowy season.

“Little has changed,” Weldir informed her. “And before you ask, our other offspring are much the same. Nathair is also well.”

Her cheeks warmed at having the question that lingered in her mind answered before she could speak it. She didn’t just care for Orpheus, but for all her children.

“The only one you may be interested in is–”

Before Weldir could finish waving to a different disc, she slapped his shoulder again.

“Is that Merikh?” she asked, before quietly squealing when her legs tried to push her much too close to the viewing disc.

Weldir gently grasped her forearm and pulled her back down so their heads were at an even level.

“Yes,” he answered, his tone a little clipped, likely because she’d interrupted him. “He’s finally left the ward surrounding the castle. I believe he’s heading to the Demon Village.”

She pursed her lips at the horned companion next to her son. Jabez still looks so young. She figured he was around twenty-five, maybe even twenty-six from his appearance. He’s barely aged since I saw him over fifty years ago.

It still surprised her how so much could change, and yet so little could in the same vein.

They both wore loose, flowy, low-crotch pants that gathered at the ankle. Jabez’s were mauve, whereas Merikh had opted for a deep crimson and had tied them above his echidna spines on his calves. Neither wore shoes, but both had gone for a shirt that appeared more like a short robe.

Look at Merikh, she thought, her eyes crinkling with longing. He looks so good now.

Although it was obvious he was copying his counterpart in many ways, even down to the swagger of his walk, nothing could take away his domineering confidence.

Lindiwe found it hard to pull her eyes away from her bear-skulled, bull-horned son.

There was so much she wanted to say to him, so much to apologise for, and so much she wanted to learn about him.

He was her most intelligent child, and she wondered what knowledge he’d learned, who he’d become, and what his hopes and dreams were.

But he was utterly unapproachable.

He never leaves Jabez’s side. And even if she could get a moment alone with him, it was doubtful that it would end in any other way but a fight. One she would not partake in.

He would swing, and she would turn into a Phantom to avoid it. He wouldn’t listen, no matter how hard she tried. So she would rather leave him be, knowing he was safe, protected, and sheltered, even if it was at her enemy’s side.

“This may be your best opportunity to talk with him again,” Weldir suggested.

“No. It’s fine. I would rather tend to Orpheus and his needs.” She offered Weldir an appreciative smile, grateful that he could see the pain in her gaze and had tried to find a solution. “I should enter that village at some point and see what it’s like.”

But she wouldn’t go around stalking her son while he was there.

“I’d better give Orpheus everything I collected today before it gets too late,” she said, leaning back until she was standing upright beside Weldir.

“You could stay and give it to them in the morning.”

Lindiwe drew her gaze away from her children to Weldir. At first, his face was barely visible, but she watched as all the chalky streaks of his body coalesced together to reveal his horns and face in full.

She didn’t know why her cheeks warmed upon looking at his striking countenance, but her stomach fluttered in reaction as well. There was more of him than usual, perhaps a fifth of him, and she’d never seen this much.

He’d be easier to hold, to touch, and something about that twisted in her mind in a naughty way.

His face is a sin . She averted her gaze from his pooling black eyes before immediately being drawn straight back to them.

“No. I think it’s best if they speak about this tonight, so I can lead him to somewhere deeper in the Veil at first light.”

“Do you plan to offer your blood as a sacrifice for the protection dome?”

“Yes. Katerina seems a little... closed-minded. I don’t think she’ll be amenable to offering her lifeblood, even if it’s the cost for her ultimate protection. She’ll likely complain about witchcraft and whatever nonsense.”

She looked at Orpheus, simply so she could avoid Weldir’s intense, unmoving stare. Sometimes I wish he’d freaking blink.

“That spell only lasted for a few years, and we don’t know if all our offspring have magical capabilities. Only Odie and Merikh have proven so thus far, and it may be because they’ve eaten Anzúli. We don’t know whether this is a natural trait they’ve inherited or not.”

“We have to try.” She backed away from him to head towards the journal and the array of tools she’d brought. “If the ward only lasts a few years, then Orpheus can just do it again.”

“If you say so,” Weldir answered, unfolding his cross-legged position to join her side. “I’ll place these within the salt circle so you don’t have to carry them.”

She nodded and offered a small smile. “I’d appreciate that.”