The Sentinel continued, “I will follow the path of adversity as revealed to us and dedicate my life to the fulfillment of bringing him into physical form.”
I repeated that as well, though not as loudly as Kit and I had rehearsed. There was no arrogance. No posture. No pride. I was only here to endure, spouting dogma I didn’t believe.
The text from Kit’s father’s journals haunted me.
It is such a small thing to wear the mark of Eeus…
My father’s death had set me on this path, but I felt suddenly lost. More uncertain than ever and far more afraid.
The Sentinel closed in, only a step or two, but any advance was enough to steal my breath. I sat, anchored in place, and flinched away as the scorching metal pressed into my chest.
Time stopped. Sound and sight blanked away, and my skin ignited with blistering pain. I bucked back in the chair. The potent stench of cooked flesh wafted to my nose.
The first thing I heard was my own breathless whine, petering out as the iron withdrew. I blinked through a film of sudden tears and saw six more pieces of the complex serpent brand waiting to be applied. My body began to shake as the Sentinel walked to the brazier and retrieved the next iron. I didn’t dare look at my chest and see the damage there, but I felt the heat seeping in, cooking me alive.
Kit stood staunchly beside me. I wondered if he’d wished someone would hold his hand through his ordeal the way I wished he would hold mine now. A few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have thought him the type for such affection, but things I’d seen and learned recently were slowly changing my mind.
My fingers trembled as they stretched toward his arm.
The Sentinel brandished the second iron, and the bark of his voice stopped me. “I pledge to answer Eeus’s call to return the departed to community,” he said, “and in so doing pursue a deeper understanding and connection with the divine and the dead.”
I stammered through the recitation as coherently as I could with the smoldering iron so close to my face.
Another glance at Kit found him facing forward, staring into a distant nothing. His jaw had a hard set to it, and his fists were clenched at his sides, leaving no room for my fingers to slip in.
When the next iron touched me, surprise added to the pain as I yelped and squeezed my eyes shut. The darkness behind my eyelids freed my mind to travel elsewhere, diving into memory…
There were plenty of places to make mischief for a child growing up on a farm, but my favorite was the hay barn.
Sayla and I would climb to the loft and jump off, landing and rolling in piles of straw until we were out of breath from giggling. I found solitude there, too, a more open space than our crowded, two-bedroom cottage. I could play make-believe with wooden swords my father had made or sit near the loft window and draw by moonlight on clear summer nights.
On that night, I thought myself alone, having scuttled away from the house with an oil lamp lighting the path as my bare feet raced along. I’d brought my bow and arrows to use on the targets I’d made when I was meant to be doing chores earlier in the day.
Upon reaching the barn, I tugged the massive, rolling door aside then pitted my lantern against the darkness there. I trotted inside and paused to let my eyes adjust. Ten different bullseyes were painted with mud on bales of hayscattered around the space. The way I had it arranged, I could take shots from almost any angle, but the best vantage point was the loft.
I scurried up the ladder, my progress slowed as I struggled to reach each narrow rung while pinning the bow and quiver tightly under one arm. The lantern swung from my other hand, its tiny flame shuddering.
“Penny Oliver, I’m gonna tell Mother on you!” My sister’s shrill voice made me start.
I thought about carrying on, going up and having my fun playing archer. Sayla was bound to tattle, and I could hardly make it worse by shooting a few targets before Mother made it out to chastise me.
Clinging to the ladder with one hand, I swung back, holding the lantern above Sayla’s blonde head.
“You could tell her,” I said, “or you could join me instead.”
Her nose crinkled. She was already leaning back, ready to dart to the house and wake everyone with her discovery. But she lingered long enough to ask, “What are you doing?”
I waved the lantern toward the targets arranged around the barn. “Shooting.”
“You’ll let me use your bow?” She propped her hands on her hips.
I supposed I had to, so I shrugged. “Sure.”
She stared at me a moment longer before mischief made her eyes sparkle. “Go up, then. I’m coming.”
Grinning, I turned back to the ladder. Getting away with my plan was worth sharing it with my sister. We already shared a room, our few toys, a long list of chores, and now this secret.
When I reached up again, my bow and quiver began to slip from under my arm. I made a grab for them with myother hand, knocking the lantern against the ladder so hard the glass shattered with a loud pop.
